fagot, or provoking God to pour in a foreign domineering enemy upon us, an enemy whom we have been always so sottishly fond of; for hardly any other judgment remains yet untried upon the nation? This surely it is natural and reasonable enough to imagine, that such as thus "glory in their shame," (be they never so high and great,) should have shame and confusion cast upon their glory. My business, I confess, hitherto has been to discourse upon the prophet's words; and I heartily wish, that in so doing, I may not prove too much a prophet myself.

But whether things may so happen to us or no, and that this notorious, and almost national impudence in sin, should ever bring down any of the forementioned judgments upon us, (which God in mercy avert,) one judgment, I am sure, it will infallibly bring along with it, and that is itself. And can there be a dreadfuller judgment than that which gives a man an universal disposition to all sin? which offers up his soul, as it were, a blank to the devil, to write what he will upon it? Of all the curses which can possibly befall a sinner, there is none comparable to this, that he should add iniquity to iniquity, and fall from sin to sin; which the shameless person cannot but do, till he falls by it too, his recovery, while under that character, being utterly impossible. For where there is no place for shame, there can be none for repentance. Shamelessness naturally and necessarily seals a man up under impenitence, and impenitence seals him up to destruction. God, of his infinite goodness, work better minds in us, which he must and will do, if he intends better things for us.

To whom be rendered and ascribed, as is most due, all praise, might, majesty, and dominion, now and for evermore. Amen.

SERMON XL.

CONCEALMENT OF SIN NO SECURITY TO THE SINNER.

"Be sure your sin will find you out."-NUMB. XXXII. 23.

Or all the ways to be taken for the prevention of that great plague of mankind, sin, there is none so rational and efficacious as to confute and baffle those motives by which men are induced to venture upon it; and amongst all such motives, the heart of man seems chiefly to be overpowered and prevailed upon by two, to wit, secrecy in committing sin, and impunity consequent upon it.

VOL. I.

Accordingly, Moses, in this chapter, having to deal with a company of men suspected guilty of a base and fraudulent design, though couched under a very fair pretence, (as most such designs use to be,) he endeavours to dash it in its very conception, by particularly applying himself to encounter those secret ratiocinations and arguments, which he knew were the most likely to encourage them in it; and this he does very briefly, but effectually, by assuring them, that how covertly and artificially soever they might carry on their dark project, yet their sin should infallibly find them out.

The subject and occasion of the words is indeed particular, but the design of them is manifestly of an universal import, as reaching the case of all sinners in the world, in their first entrance upon any sinful act or course. And therefore, I shall consider them according to this latter and more enlarged sense, casting the prosecution of them under these three following heads; as,

First, I shall shew, that men generally, if not always, proceed to the commission of sin, upon a secret confidence of concealment of impunity.

Secondly, I shall shew the grounds and reasons upon which men take up such a confidence. And,

Thirdly and lastly, I shall shew the vanity of this confidence, by declaring those several ways, by which, in the issue, it comes certainly to be defeated.

Of each of which in their order,—

First. And first, for the first of them; to wit, that men generally, if not always, proceed to the commission of sin upon a secret confidence of concealment or impunity.

For the better handling of which proposition, I shall lay down these two assertions,

1. That no man is induced to sin, considered in itself as a thing absolutely or merely evil, but as it bears some resemblance or appearance of good in the apprehensions of him who commits it. Certain it is, that there can be no real good in sin; but if it had no shadow, no show of good, it could not possibly be made the object of a human choice, the will of man never choosing or embracing any thing under the proper notion of evil. But then, as to the kind of this good; if we would know what that is, it is also as certain, that no man can be so far deluded, or rather besotted in his judgment, as to imagine that sin can have any thing of moral good in it; forasmuch as that imports a direct contradiction to the very nature, notion, and definition of sin; and therefore, besides that, philosophy, we know, owns and asserts two other sorts of good, to wit, pleasing and profitable-good being properly the denomination of a thing, as it suits with our desires or inclinations. According to which acception of the word, whatsoever pleases or profits us,

Y

may, upon that general account, be called good, though otherwise it swerves from the stated rules and laws of honesty and morality. And upon the same ground, sin itself, so far as it carries either pleasure or profit with it, is capable of being apprehended by the mind of man as good; and consequently, of being chosen or embraced by the will as such.

2. The other assertion to be laid down is, that God has annexed two great evils to every sin, in opposition to the pleasure and profit of it, to wit, shame and pain. He has, by an eternal and most righteous decree, made these two the inseparable effects and consequents of sin. They are the wages assigned it by the laws of Heaven; so that, whosoever commits it, ought to account shame and punishment to belong to him as his rightful inheritance. For it is God who has joined them together by an irreversible sentence, and it is not in the power or art of man to put them asunder. And now, as God has made these two evils the sure consequents of sin, so there is nothing which the nature of man does so peculiarly dread and abhor as these, they being indeed the most directly and absolutely destructive of all its enjoyments, forasmuch as they reach and confound it in the adequate subject of enjoyment, the soul and body-shame being properly the torment of the one, and pain of the other. For the mind of man can have no taste or relish of any pleasure in the world, while it is actually oppressed and overwhelmed with shame. Nothing does so keenly and intolerably affect the soul as infamy-it drinks up and consumes the quickness, the gaiety, and activity of the spirits-it dejects the countenance, made by God himself to look upwards, so that this noble creature, the masterpiece of the creation, dares not so much as lift up either his head or his thoughts, but it is a vexation to him even to look upon others, and yet a greater to be looked upon by them. And as shame thus mortifies the soul, so pain or punishment (the other twin-effect of sin) equally harasses the body. We know how much misery pain is able to bring upon the body in this life, (in which our pains and pleasures, as well as other things, are but imperfect,) there being never a limb or part, never a vein or artery of the body, but it is the scene and receptacle of pain, whensoever it shall please God to unfence it, and let in some sharp disease or distemper upon it. And so exceedingly afflictive are these bodily griefs, that there is nothing which affects the body in the way of pleasure, in any degree comparable to that which affects it in the way of pain. For is there any pleasure in nature which equals the impressions of the gout, the stone, or even of the toothache itself? But then, farther, when we shall consider that the pains which we have here mentioned, and a great many more, are but the preludiums, the

first-fruits, and beginnings of that pain which shall be infinitely advanced, and finally completed, in the torments of another world, when the body shall descend into a bed of fire and brimstone, and be lodged for ever in the burning furnace of an Almighty wrath; this consideration surely will or ought to satisfy us, that God will not be behindhand with the sinner in point of punishment, whatsoever promises his sin may have made him in point of pleasure.

And now, if we put these two assertions laid down by us together as first, That no man ever engages in sin, but as he apprehends in it something of pleasure or advantage; and secondly, That shame and pain are, by God himself, made the assured consequents of sin; which are utterly inconsistent with, and destructive of, all such pleasure or advantage— it must needs follow from hence, that the will cannot possibly choose sin, so long as the understanding is under a full conviction or persuasion that shame and punishment shall certainly follow the commission of it. For no man, doubtless, is so furiously bent upon his lust, or any other infamous passion, as to attempt the satisfaction of it in the market-place, or in the face of the sun and of the world, or with the sword of the avenger applied to his heart.

Covetousness, we all know, is a blinding, as well as a pressing and a bold vice; yet certainly it could never blind nor infatuate any one to that degree, as to make a judge take a bribe upon the bench, or in the open sight of the court. No; no man is so far able to conquer and cast off those innate fears which nature has thought fit to bridle and govern the fury of his affections by, as to bid defiance to an evil which his best and strongest reasonings assure him to be unsupportable; and therefore, his apprehensions must be, some way or other, first unshackled from a belief of these evils, before his will and his choice can be let loose to the practice of sin. And does not this give us a most philosophical, as well as true account, of the infinite reasonableness of the Scripture's charging all sin upon unbelief, as the first root and source of men's apostasy from God? For, let men think and say what they will, yet when they venture upon sin, they do not really believe that God will ever revenge it upon them. They may, indeed, have some general, faint, speculative belief of hell and damnation; but such a belief as is particular and practical, and personally applies and brings it home to their own condition, this they are void of; and it is against the methods of reason and nature for any man to commit sin with such a belief full and fresh upon his spirit: and consequently, the heart must prevaricate, and shift off these persuasions the best it can, in order to its free passage to sin; and this can by no other means

be so effectually done, as by promising itself secrecy in sin, and impunity or escape after it. For these two reach and remove all a man's fears, by giving him security against those two grand terrifying effects of sin, shame and pain. Assure but the sinner, that he shall neither be discovered nor punished, and presently the reins lie loose upon all his appetites, and they are free to take their full swing in all enormities whatsoever. But yet, since this is not to be effected without the help of some arguments and considerations, which may have something of show, at least, to delude, though nothing of strength to convince the reason; therefore,

Secondly, We shall now, under our next head, endeavour to give some account of those fallacious grounds upon which the sinner is apt to take up such a confidence, as to believe that he shall be able to carry off his sin clear, without either discovery or retribution. And, no doubt, weak and shallow enough we shall find them all, and such as could never persuade any man to sin, did not his own love to sin persuade him much more forcibly than all such considerations; some of which are these that follow. As,

1. First, men consider the success which they have actually had in the commission of many sins; and this proves an encouraging argument to them to commit the same for the future, as naturally suggesting this to their thoughts, that what they have done so often, without either discovery or punishment, may be so done by them again. For nothing does so much confirm a man in the continuance of any practice, as frequent experience of success in what he does, the proper genuine result of this being confidence.

Some men, indeed, stumble in their very first entrance upon a sinful course; and this their disappointment frequently proves their cure, by making them to retreat and draw off timely, as being disheartened with so unfortunate a beginning. And it is, no doubt, the singular mercy and indulgence of God to such, thus to cross and turn them out of the paths of destruction, which, had they found smooth, safe, and pleasurable, the corruption of their hearts would have infallibly engaged them in them to their lives' end. That traveller, surely, has but little cause to complain, who, by breaking a leg or an arm at his first setting out upon an unfortunate journey, prevents the losing of his head at his journey's end; it being but a very uncomfortable way of travelling to finish one's journey and one's life together. Great reason, therefore, have they to own themselves particularly favoured by Providence, who have been stopped and withstood by it in the very first attempts of any sin, and thereby snatched, as it were a brand, out of the fire, or, which is yet better, have been kept from ever falling into it; their being

scorched has prevented their being burnt; while the fright, caused by the danger they so narrowly escaped, has been always fresh upon their memories; and such as come to be thus happily frighted into their wits, are not so easily fooled out of them again. In short, all frustration in the first essays of a vicious course, is a balk to the confidence of the bold undertaker. And therefore, on the contrary, when God is pleased to leave a man under the full sway and power of any vice, he does not concern his providence to lay any block or impediment in such an one's way, but suffers him to go on and succeed in his villainy, to effect all his projects, and compass the full satisfaction of his lewd desires. And this flushes him up, and makes him hard and insensible; and that makes him venturous and daring, and so locks him fast in the embraces of his sin, while he has not the least surmise of the sadness of the issue, and that the present sweets of sin will and must be bitterness in the end; but, like a sot in a tavern, first drinks himself drunk, and then forgets that there is a reckoning to be paid.

Such an one the devil accounts he has fast enough; and for that cause, none shall so studiously endeavour to promote a man's quiet and success in sin, as he who at present tempts him to it, and will hereafter torment him for it. For the devil desires not that the sinner should feel any trouble for sin, till he comes to feel it for good and all, in that place which is designed only for payment and not amendment, and where all that he can do or suffer to eternal ages can contribute nothing to his release. And therefore, that the sinner may sleep on soundly in his sin, the devil will be sure to make his bed soft enough. It is said of the Spaniard, that there are two things much accounted of, and desired by, many in the world, which yet he heartily wishes his enemy; one is, that if he be a gamester, he may win; the other, that if he be a courter of women, he may obtain his desires; for that he knows well enough, that either of these courses will, in all likelihood, prove his undoing at long run. In like manner, when the devil has the management of a sinner, he will spread his wing over him so, that he shall never be alarmed with dangers, disgraces, and other calamitous effects of sin, (if the officious tempter can ward them off,) but shall pursue his vice with ease, safety, and reputation,

And while the sinner can do so, such is the proneness of man by nature to deceive himself in a thing which he passionately desires, that having thus acquitted himself to himself, he takes it for granted that God will acquit him too; and, like our late sanctified, and since justified, rebels, concludes, that God and he, forsooth, are still of a mind, (Eccles. viii. 11,) Because," says the wise man, sentence against an evil work is not executed speedily,

therefore the heart of the sons of men is fully set in them to do evil." Here he gives us an account of the secret reasoning of most sinners' hearts, namely, that because God does not confound them in the very act of sin, by some immediate judgment, therefore they resolve upon a more audacious progress in it, and so sing Agag's requiem to themselves, that surely the bitterness of death is past; but much surer will such find it, that no man's being past fear makes him past feeling too, nor that the distance of an evil abates the certainty of it. And yet, the great knower of hearts ascribes men's resolution to sin to such reasonings as these, (as sottish and absurd as they are;) so that in Psalm 1. having reckoned up several flagitious practices, he adds, (ver. 21,) "These things hast thou done, and I kept silence, and thou thoughtest that I was altogether such an one as thyself." God's silence, it seems, passes with such for his consent, and his not attacking the guilty wretch by a present execution, makes him conclude, that Heaven has passed an act of oblivion upon all his rogueries, so that henceforth he shall live and die a prosperous, indemnified villain, and his sin never find him out. In which case, certainly, for a sinner thus to presume to absolve himself from his own sins, is itself a greater sin than any of those which he can pretend to absolve himself from. But,

2. A second ground upon which men are apt to persuade themselves that they shall escape the stroke of divine justice for their sins, is their observation of the great and flourishing condition of some of the topping sinners of the world. They have seen perjury and murder nestle themselves into a throne, live triumphant, and die peaceably; and this makes them question whether God will ever concern himself to revenge that hereafter which he seems so much to connive at and countenance here; especially, since men are so geuerally apt to judge of things and persons according to the present face and appearance of them, that they make the present the sole measure of the future, guide their hopes and their fears by what they actually see and feel; and, in a word, make their outward senses the rule and ground of their inmost ratiocinations.

For could we hear the secret language of most men's thoughts, we should hear them making such kind of answers and replies to the checks of conscience dissuading them from sin, and laying the danger of it before them, as these: Pray, what mischief befell such an oppressor, such a tyrant, or such a rebel? And who passed his life with more affluence and jollity, than such an epicure, such a money-monger, such a tally-broker, and cheater of the public? And have not some dexterous accomptants got estates, and made their fortunes, by a clever stroke or two of

their pen? and by a skilful mistake, wrot themselves forty or fifty thousand pounds richer than they were before, in a trice? And did not that discreet Roman, Verres, lighting into a wealthy province, plunder and carry off from thence enough to serve himself, his friends, and his judges too? And why may not others, whose parts lie the same way, follow such lucky examples? and the thriving hypocrites of the present age find as fair quarter from God and man, as any of the former? With such considerations as these, (if they may be called so,) men commonly arm themselves against all the threatenings of the divine judgments; and think that, in the strength of them, they can warrant the most resolute pursuit of their vices for safe and rational. They see not the smoke of the bottomless pit, and so dread not the fire.

Flourishing sinners are indeed plausible arguments to induce men to sin; but, thanks be to God, that for a sinner to spend and end his days flourishing, is a privilege allowed by him to very few; and those only such, as are likely to be much lower in the other world, than ever they were high in this. But,

3. As we have shewn how mightily men are heartened on to their sins by the successful examples of others, as bad as themselves, or perhaps worse; so the next ground, upon which such are wont to promise themselves security, both from the discovery and punishment of their sins, is the opinion which they have of their own singular art and cunning to conceal them from the knowledge, or, at least, of their power to rescue them from the jurisdiction of any earthly judge. The eye of man, they know, is but of a weak sight and a short reach; so that he neither sees in the dark, nor pierces into the cabinet-council and corner-practices of his neighbours; and therefore these sons of darkness, who love to work as well as walk in the dark, doubt not but to contrive and cast the commission of their villainies under such sure coverts of secrecy, that they shall be able to laugh at all judges and witnesses, and defy the inspection of the most curious and exact inquirers. And this makes them proceed to sin with such bravadoes in their hearts as these: Who shall ever see, or hear, or know what I do? The sun itself, the eye of the world, shall never be conscious to my actions; even the light and the day shall be strangers to my retirements. So that, unless the stones I tread upon cry out against me, and the beam out of the wall accuse, and my own clothes arraign me, I fear no discovery. This is the language, these the inward boasts of secret, or rather self-befooled sinners.

But now, what if such strange things as these should sometimes come to pass ss? And it should so fall out, (as it will appear by and by,) that even these dumb, inanimate things