I have hitherto endeavoured to shew how a believer shall strengthen and comfort himself against the fears of Death; but now I shall add something more, with Heaven's assistance. I shall labour to prove, not only that Death is to be expected without apprehension, but to be received with an holy joy; that it is not at all dreadful, but rather is to be earnestly desired. I shall no longer give, to speak properly, any consolations against the fears of Death; for I hope to make it plain, that Death itself is to be looked upon as the greatest consolation and comfort.

That I may attain my purpose, I shall shew, as in a picture, a short view of all the dreadful miseries from which Death delivers us; and then I shall endeavour to paint out in the brightest colours, or rather, I shall chalk out unto you, the blessedness and glories into which it ushers us.

Man's life and misery are twin sisters that are born at the same time, and own Adam for their first parent; they die together at the same instant in true believers. We all know that man begins his life weeping and crying, and ends with sighs and groans. We come into the world all covered with blood, and we go out covered all over with a cold sweat. If the child cries not so soon as it is born, we judge that it is dead; and when the sick body ceases to groan and sigh, we say that he is past hopes. So that our crying is a token of life, and the end of our sighs is likewise an infallible sign of our death. Wretched man! how miserable is thy condi tion! Thy best friends rejoice at thy crying, and they weepand lament when thou ceasest to sigh and groan.

All the rest of thy time between the cradle and the grave is no happier: It is but a continued chain of misery, a mixture of pains, a succession of evils, and a sea of bitterness. As. one wave falls upon the back of another, one evil is no sooner

gone,

gone, but another follows and threatens us. One depth calleth to another, and all manner of floods and storms pass over our heads. As the sparks rise out of the fire to fly up, man is born for misery and pain, Job v. and as the wisest of kings speaks, his days are nothing but pain, and his employments but trouble; in the night his heart resteth not," Eccles. iii. There are scarce any dwellings, but messengers of ill news ar rive at them sometimes, as they did to that of Job, ch. i.

J

By God's unchangeable order and appointment the days succeed the nights, and divide the year into two equal parts. For if the nights are longer in one season, so much the shorter they are in another. But the nights of our afflictions are so long, that they seem to last several ages; whereas the days of prosperity are so short, that they are gone in a moment. So that we may justly say with the prophet Moses," The best of our days are but labour and sorrow; so soon doth our life pass away, and we are gone," Ps. xc. It is as easy a task. to number the stars of the firmament, and to reckon up the grains of the sand upon the sea-shore, as to make an exact examination of all the evils that happen to us as men belonging to a civil society, or as members of God's church, and his adopted children. Therefore old Jacob had cause to complain, that the years of his life had been so short and evil; but ours are so evil, that they cannot be too short.

I should compose many volumes, if I should undertake to describe perfectly all the infirmities and diseases that undermine the body, all the cutting pains, and cruel tortures, that torment and rack us..

The most languishing sicknesses, and the most violent pains, that afflict and disturb this body, are nothing in comparison of the excessive sadness and mortal anguish, that seize upon our souls, and fill them full of gall and bitterness. I think

there

there is no man upon earth that can boast of having passed but one day without some displeasure, either inward or outward. For we either feel present evils, that strike through our hearts as so many darts, or the remembrance of former griefs trouble us, or else the fears of future mischiefs vex and fret us. I may justly say, that the devil is not so cruel to himself, as we are to our own persons: for this evil spirit cares not to be tormented before the time; whereas we anticipate the evils by unquiet apprehensions, and wilful vexations entertained in our minds. The fear of misery makes us far more miserable; and the apprehension of an imaginary evil causeth us to feel a real affliction, and an unfeigned torment.

When we consider any man's life, we only look upon that which appears most delightful and pleasant. We consider the nobility of his blood, the variety of his pleasures, the greatness of his riches, the glory of his offices and victories, and the pomp of his triumphs. But scarce any man takes notice of his miseries and afflictions; or, if some be so observed, they are but such as are too obvious to every man's eye; as the public affronts and disgraces, the loss of a battle, the degradation from an office, banishments, imprisonments, and such like unhappy afflictions. But, besides these calamities, which are visible to all the world, and the common motives of the condoling lamentations of our friends, there are many secret evils, that be far more painful. Our nearest relations discover not always our most sensible wounds, to pour into them a healing balm; they see not our deepest sorrows, nor do they dream of applying to our souls the most proper comforts.

When you behold stage-players capering upon a theatre, speaking as big as kings and princes, you seldom think, that under their magnificent and glorious attire they hide many

filthy rags, and perhaps some incommodious vermin, that sting them to the quick. Thus when you cast your eyes upon riches, glory, pomp, and the magnificence of worldly men, you do not discover and see the canker-worm that gnaws their hearts, and the secret fire that devours their souls. Some there be, that laugh in public before company, and appear with a merry countenance, who are full of despair, and in private tear off their hair, sigh, and pour forth abundance of tears. Some feed themselves before the world with the most delicious meats, and drink the rarest wines; but inwardly they are glutted with poison and gall. This was the consideration of the wisest of kings, when he writ this sentence, "I have said of laughter, it is mad; and of gladness, what profiteth it?" Eccles. ii. 2.

As poverty and a mean estate are never without a train of fretful sorrows and cares; likewise riches and honours are never without fears and disturbances. And as there is no flame ever so pure, but sends up a smoke, nor a rose so beautiful, but has its prickles; so there is no condition so splendid or glorious, nor any prosperity so flourishing, but hath its troubles and sharp thorns. Every man upon earth, without exception, bears his cross, or hath a grievous thorn in his side. The moth sticks to the richest stuffs; the worm gets into the heart of the fairest flowers and fruits; and the thunderbolt strikes down the loftiest oaks, the highest steeples, and the most magnificent palaces: Likewise care and grief commonly eat up the flower of the greatest prosperities; and the noblest dignities are often subject to the strangest alterations, and to the most terrible downfalls. The richest crowns cast all their splendour and glory outwardly, but inwardly they are felt to be weighty upon the heads of such as bear them. A great Prince found his diadem so burdensome and unsufferable, that he cried out, "O crown! if thy weight were well known, none would lift thee up from the ground." It

is not without a good cause, that such as are passionate for the world, and inclinable to the delights of the flesh, are in a continual fear and dread; for they be exposed to the most imminent dangers. If their eyes were open, they would see a naked sword always hanging over their heads. As in that statue which Nebuchadnezzar saw in his dream, the head that was of pure gold was as easily broken as the earthen feet, and became as light as the chaff which the wind car ries away likewise the most honourable, the richest, and the most glorious estate, is equally subject to the same mis> chances, as the lowest, the poorest, and the most wretched. Where are any riches and treasures that are not succeeded by poverty? Where rides that pride and pomp that hath not shame to attend it? Is there any grandeur in the age.not subject to the furious blasts of envy? Where is that lighted taper, that a whirlwind and a storm of rain cannot put out? Christian souls, take good notice of the fruits which the world gives to its servants and children, and you shall find that they are much like to certain apples of America, of an excellent beauty, and of a sweet smell; yet they are full of the rankest poison, that kills infallibly such as unadvisedly eat of them. There is no sweetness so great upon earth, but hath a mixture of bitter; nor joy so pure and lasting, but is often interrupted with sighs and tears. The rarest plea sures have a sad countenance, and a groaning aspect. Our hearts, in the midst of laughter, feel an oppression, and our joy is accompanied with sorrow. Therefore, when the most experienced of all former princes had taken exact notice of all things under the sun, and tasted all the delights of life, he concludes with this confession, "That all things under the sun are nothing but vanity and vexation of spirit."

It is not needful, that I shall make here anexact and particular description of all the sad and troublesome accidents of life, that are able to turn the most flourishing estate upside down.