of the world. A renewed nature is the very image of God; Christ dwelling in us; and the Spirit of God abiding in us: It is a beam from the face of God; the seed of God remaining in us: the only inherent beauty of the rational soul: It ennobles man above all nobility: fits him to understand his Maker's pleasure, do his will, and receive his glory. If this grain of mustard seed be so precious, what is "the tree of life in the midst of the paradise of God!" If a spark of life, which will but strive against corruptions, and flame out a few desires and groans, be of so much worth; how glorious then is the fountain of this life! If we are said to be like God, when we are pressed down with a body of sin; sure we shall be much more like God, when we have no such thing as sin within us. Is the desire after, and love of heaven so excellent; what then is the thing itself! Is our joy in foreseeing and believing so sweet; what will be the joy of full possession! How glad is a Christian when he feels his heart begin to melt and be dissolved with the thoughts of sinful unkindness! Even this sorrow yields him joy. O what then will it be, when we shall know, and love, and rejoice, and praise in the highest perfection! Think with thyself, "What a change was it, to be taken from that state wherein I was born, and in which I was riveted by custom, when thousands of sins lay upon my score, and if I had so died, I had been damned for ever! What an astonishing change, to be justified from all these enormous crimes, and freed from all these fearful plagues, and made an heir of heaven! How often, when I have thought of my regeneration have I cried out, O blessed day! and bles sed be the Lord that ever I saw it! How then shall I cry out in heaven, O blessed eternity! and blessed be the Lord that brought me to it! Did the angels of God rejoice to see my conversion? Surely they will congratulate my felicity in my salvation. Grace is but a spark raked up in ashes, covered with flesh from the sight of the world, and sometimes covered with corruption from my own sight; but my everlasting glory will not be so clouded, nor my light be under a bushel, but on a hill, even upon mount Sion, the mount of God."

§ 11. Once more, compare the joys which thou shalt have above, with those foretastes of it which the Spi. rit hath given thee here. Hath not God sometimes revealed himself extraordinarily to thy soul, and let a drop of glory fall upon it? Hast thou not been ready to say, "O that it might be thus with my soul continual

ly?" Didst thou never cry out with the martyr, after thy long and mournful expectations, "He is come, He is come?' ?" Didst thou never, under a lively sermon of heaven, or in thy retired contemplations on that blessed state, perceive thy drooping spirits revive, and thy dejected heart lift up the head, and the light of heaven dawn on thy soul? Think with thyself, "What is this earnest to the full inheritance? Alas, all this light, that so amazeth and rejoiceth me, is but a candle lighted from heaven, to lead me thither through this world of darkness! If some godly men have been overwhelmed with joy, till they have cried out, Hold, Lord, stay thy hand; I can bear no more: What then will be my joys in heaven, when my soul shall be so capable of seeing and enjoying God, that though the light be ten thousand times greater than the sun, yet my eyes shall be able for ever to behold it? Or, if thou hast not yet left these sweet foretastes, (for every believer hath not left them) then make use of such delights as thou hast felt, in order the better to discern what thou shalt hereafter feel.

§ 12. (II.) I am now to show how heavenly contem. plation may be preserved from a wandering heart.Our chief work is here to discover the danger, and that will direct to the fittest remedy. The heart will prove the greatest hinderance in this heavenly employment; either, by backwardness to it; or, by trifling in it; or, by frequent excursions to other objects; or, by abruptly ending the work before it is well begun. As you value the comfort of this work, these dangerous evils must be faithfully resisted.

§ 13. (1.) Thou wilt find thy heart as backward to this, I think, as to any work in the world. O what excuses will it make! What evasions will it find out! What delays and demurs, when it is ever so much convinced! Either it will question whether it be a duty or not, or if it be so to others, whether to thyself. It will tell thee, This is a work for ministers that have nothing else to study; or for persons that have more leisure than thou hast. If thou be a minister, it will tell thee, "This is the duty of the people; it is enough for thee to meditate for their instruction, and let them meditate on what they have heard:" As if it was thy duty only to cook their meat and serve it up, and they alone must eat it, digest it, and live upon it. If all this will not do, thy heart will tell thee of other business, or set thee upon some other duty; for it had rather go to any duty

than this. Perhaps it wil tell thee, "Other duties are greater, and therefore this must give place to them, because thou hast no time for both. Public business is. more important: to study and preach for the saving of souls must be prefered before these private contemplations." As if thou hadst not time to care for thy own salvation, for looking after that of others. Or thy charity to others were so great, that it obliges thee to neglect thy own eternal welfare. Or, as if there were any better way to fit us to be useful, to others, than making this proof of our doctrine ourselves. Certainly heaven is the best fire to light our candle at, and the best book for a preacher to study; and if we would be persuaded to study that more, the church would be provided with more heavenly lights; and when our stu dies are divine, our preaching will also be divine, and we may be called divines indeed. Or, if thy heart have nothing to say against the work, it will trifle away the time in delays, and promise this day and the next, but still keep off from the business. Or, it will give thee a flat denial, and oppose its own unwillingness to thy reason. All this I speak of the heart; so far as it is still carnal; for I know, so far as it is spiritual, it will judge this the sweetest work in the world.

§ 14. What is now to be done? Wilt thou do it, if I' tell thee? Wouldest thou not say in a like case, "What should I do with a servant that will not work? or with a horse that will not travel? Shall I keep them to look at?" Then faithfully deal thus with thy heart; persuade it to the work, take no denial, chide it for its backwardness, use violence with it. Hast thou no command of thy own thoughts? Is not the subject of thy meditations a matter of choice, especially under this conduct of thy judgment? Surely God gave thee, with thy new nature, some power to govern thy thoughts. Art thou again become a slave to thy depraved nature? Resume thy authority. Call in the Spirit of Christ to thine assistance, who is never backward to so good a work, nor will deny his help in so just a cause. Say to him, "Lord, thou gavest my reason the command of my thoughts and affections; the authority I have rereceived over them is from thee; and now behold, they refuse to obey thine authority: Thou commandest me to set them to the work of heavenly meditation, but they rebel and stubbornly refuse the duty. Wilt thou not assist me to exercise that authority which thou hast given me?. O send down thy Spirit, that I may enforce:

thy commands, and effectually compel them to obey thy will!" Thus thou shalt see thy heart will submit, its resistance overcome, and its backwardness be turned into cheerful compliance.

§ 15. (2.) Thy heart will also be likely to betray thee by trifling, when it should be effectually meditating. Perhaps, when thou hast an hour for meditation, the time will be spent before thy heart will be serious. This doing of duty, as if we did it not, ruins as many as the omissions of it. Here let thine eye be always upon thy heart. Look not so much to the time it spends in the duty, as the quantity and quality of the work that is done. You can tell by his work, whether a servant hath been diligent. Ask yourself, "What affections have been yet exercised? How much am I yet. got nearer to heaven?" Think not, since thy heart is so trifling, it is better to let it alone: for, by this means, thou wilt certainly banish all spiritual obedience; because the best hearts, being but sanctified in part, will resist, so far as they are carnal. But rather consider well the corruption of thy nature; and that its sinful indispositions will not supersede the commands of God; nor one sin excuse for another; and that God has appointed means to excite our affections. This self-reasoning, self-considering duty of heavenly meditation, is the most singular means, both to excite and increase love. Therefore stay not from the duty, till thou feelest thy love constrain thee; any more than thou wouldest stay from the fire, till thou feelest thyself warm; but engage in the work till: love is excited, and then love will constrain thee to further duty.

§ 16. (3.) Thy heart will also be making excursions from thy heavenly meditation to other objects. It will. be turning aside, like a careless servant, to talk with every one that passeth by. When there should be nothing in thy mind but heaven, it will be thinking of thy calling, or thy afflictions, or of every bird, or tree, or place thou seest. The cure is here the same as before; use watchfulness and violence. Say to thy heart, "What, did I come hither to think of my worldly business, of persons, places, news, or vanity, or of any thing but heaven, be it ever so good? Canst thou not watch one hour? Wouldst thou leave this world, and dwell for ever with Christ in heaven, and not leave it one hour to dwell with Christ in meditation? Is this thy love to thy friend? Dost thou love Christ, and the place of thy eternal, blessed abode, no more than this?

If the ravening fowls of wandering thoughts devour the meditations intended for heaven, they devour the life and joy of thy thoughts: Therefore drive them away from thy sacrifice, and strictly keep thy heart to the work.

§ 17. (4.) Abruptly ending thy meditation before it is well begun, is another way in which thy heart will deceive thee. Thou mayest easily perceive this in other duties. In secret prayer, is not thy heart urging thee to cut it short, and frequently making a motion to have done? So in heavenly contemplation, thy heart will be weary of the work, and will stop thy heaven. ly walk before thou art well warm. But charge it in the name of God to stay, and not do so great a work by halves. Say to it, "Foolish heart! if thou beg a while, and goest away before thou hast thy alms, is not thy begging a lost labor? If thou stoppest before the end of thy journey, is not thy travel lost? Thou camest hither in hope to have a sight of the glory which thou must inherit; and wilt thou stop when thou art almost at the top of the hill, and turn back before thou hast taken thy survey? Thou camest hither in hope to speak with God, and wilt thou go before thou hast seen him? Thou camest to bathe thyself in the streams of consolation, and to that end didst unclothe thyself of thy earthly thoughts, and wilt thou only touch the bank and return? Thou camest to spy out the land of promise; go not back without one cluster of grapes, to show thy brethren for their encouragement. Let them see that thou hast tasted of the wine by the gladness of thy heart; and that thou hast been anointed with the oil, by the cheerfulness of thy countenance: and hast fed of the milk and honey, by the mildness of thy disposition, and the sweetness of thy conversation. This heavenly fire would melt thy frozen heart, and refine and spiritualize it; but it must have time to operate." "Thus pursue the work till something be done, till thy graces be in exercise, thy affections raised, and thy soul refreshed with the delights above; or if thou canst not obtain these ends at once, be the more earnest at another time. "Blessed is that servant, whom his Lord, when he cometh, shall find so doing."