be cheated with easy pretext; but he, that looks through the heart at the face, justly answers our apologies with scourges.

None but the hand of public authority must reform the abuses of the temple. If all be out of course there, no man is barred from sorrow; the grief may reach to all, the power of reformation only to those whom it concerneth. It was but a just question, though ill propounded, to Moses, "Who made thee a judge or a ruler?" We must all imitate the zeal of our Saviour; we may not imitate his correction. If we strike uncalled, we are justly stricken for our arrogation, for our presumption. A tumultuary remedy may prove a medicine worse than the disease.

But what shall I say of so sharp and imperious an act from so meek an agent? Why did not the priests and Levites, whose this gain partly was, abet these money-changers, and make head against Christ? why did not those multitudes of men stand upon their defence, and wrest that whip out of the hand of a seemingly weak and unarmed prophet; but, instead thereof, run away like sheep from before him, not daring to abide his presence, though his hand had been still? Surely had these men been so many armies, yea, so many legions of devils, when God will astonish and chase them, they cannot have the power to stand and resist. How easy is it for him that made the heart, to put either terror or courage into it at pleasure! O Saviour, it was none of thy least miracles, that thou didst thus drive out a world of able offenders, in spite of their gain and stomachful resolutions! Their very prophet had no power to stay them against thy frowns. "Who hath resisted thy will?" Men's hearts are not their own: they are, they must be such as their Maker will have them.

CONTEMPLATION XXVI.

THE FIG-TREE CURSED.

WHEN, in this state, our Saviour had ridden through the streets of Jerusalem, that evening he lodged not there. Whether he would not, that, after so public an acclamation of the people, he might avoid all suspicion of plots or popularity (even unjust jealousies must be shunned, neither is there less wisdom in the prevention, than in the remedy of evils), or whether he could not, for want of an invitation; hosanna was better cheap than an entertainment; and perhaps the envy of so stomached a reformation discouraged his hosts. However he goes that evening, supperless, out of Jerusalem. Oh unthankful citizens! do ye thus part with your no less meek than glorious King? His title was not more proclaimed in your streets than your own ingratitude. If he hath purged the temple, yet your hearts are foul. There is no wonder in men's unworthiness; there is more than wonder in thy mercy, O thou Saviour of men, that wouldst yet return thither where thou wert so palpably disregarded. If they gave thee not thy supper, thou gavest them their breakfast: if thou mayest not spend the night with them, thou wilt with them spend the day. Oh love to unthankful souls, not discourageable by the most hateful indignities, by the basest repulses! What burden canst thou shrink under, who canst bear the weight of ingratitude?

Thou, that givest food to all things living, art thyself hungry. Martha, Mary, and Lazarus kept not so poor a house, but that thou mightest have eaten something at Bethany. Whether thy haste outran thine appetite; or whether on purpose thou forbearest repast, to give opportunity to thine ensuing miracle, I neither ask nor resolve. This was not the first time that thou wast hungry. As thou wouldst be a man,

so thou wouldst suffer those infirmities that belong to humanity. Thou camest to be our high-priest: it was thy act and intention, not only to intercede for thy people, but to transfer unto thyself, as their sins, so their weaknesses and complaints. Thou knowest to pity what thou hast felt. Are we pinched with want? We endure but what thou didst, we have reason to be patient; thou enduredst what we do, we have reason to be thankful.

But what shall we say to this thine early hunger? The morning, as it is privileged from excess, so from need; the stomach is not wont to rise with the body. Surely, as thine occasions were, no season was exempted from thy want thou hadst spent the day before in the holy labour of thy reformation; after a supperless departure, thou spentest the night in prayer; no meal refreshed thy toil. What! do we think much to forbear a morsel, or to break a sleep for thee, who didst thus neglect thyself for us?

As if meat were no part of thy care, as if any thing would serve to stop the mouth of hunger, thy breakfast is expected from the next tree. A fig-tree grew by the way side, full grown, well spread, thick leaved, and such as might promise enough to a remote eye: thither thou camest to seek that which thou foundest not; and, not finding what thou soughtest, as displeased with thy disappointment, cursedst that plant which deluded thy hopes. Thy breath instantly blasted that deceitful tree; it did no otherwise than the whole world must needs do, wither and die with thy curse,

O Saviour, I had rather wonder at thine actions than discuss them. If I should say, that, as man, thou either knewest not, or consideredst not of this fruitlessness, it could no way prejudice thy divine omniscience: this infirmity were no worse than thy weariness or hunger; it was no more disparagement to thee to grow in knowledge than in stature; neither was it any more disgrace to thy perfect humanity, that

thou, as man, knewest not all things at once, than that thou wert not in thy childhood at thy full growth. But herein, I doubt not to say, it is more likely thou camest purposely to this tree, knowing the barrenness of it answerable to the season, and fore-resolving the event, that thou mightest hence ground the occasion of so instructive a miracle: like as thou knewest Lazarus was dying, was dead, yet wouldst not seem to take notice of his dissolution, that thou mightest the more glorify thy power in his resuscitation. It was thy willing and determined disappointment for a greater purpose.

But why didst thou curse a poor tree for the want of that fruit, which the season yielded not? if it pleased thee to call for that which it could not give, the plant was innocent; and, if innocent, why cursed? O Saviour, it is fitter for us to adore than to examine. We may be saucy in inquiring after thee, and fond in answering for thee.

If that season were not for a ripe fruit, yet for some fruit it was. Who knows not the nature of the fig-tree to be always bearing? that plant, if not altogether barren, yields a continual succession of increase; while one fig is ripe, another is green; the same bough can content both our taste and our hope. This tree was defective in both, yielding nothing but an empty shade to the mishoping traveller.

Besides that, I have learned that thou, O Saviour, were wont not to speak only, but to work parables: and what was this other than a real parable of thine? all this while hadst thou been in the world; thou hadst given many proofs of thy mercy (the earth was full of thy goodness), none of thy judgments: now, immediately before thy passion, thou thoughtest fit to give this double demonstration of thy just austerity. How else should the world have seen thou canst be severe as well as meek and merciful? and why mightest not thou, who madest all things, take liberty to destroy a plant for thine own glory? wherefore serve

thy best creatures, but for the praise of thy mercy and justice; what great matter was it, if thou who once saidst, "Let the earth bring forth the herb yielding seed, and the tree yielding the fruit of its own kind," shouldst now say, "Let this fruitless tree wither?" All this yet was done in figure: in this act of thine I see both an emblem, and a prophecy. How didst thou herein mean to teach thy disciples how much thou hatest an unfruitful profession, and what judgments thou meantest to bring upon that barren generation! Once before hadst thou compared the Jewish nation to a fig-tree in the midst of thy vineyard, which, after three years' expectation and culture, yielding no fruit, was by thee, the owner, doomed to a speedy excision; now thou actest what thou then saidst. No tree abounds more with leaf and shade, no nation abounded more with ceremonial observations and semblances of piety. Outward profession, where there is want of inward truth and real practice, doth but help to draw on and aggravate judgment. Had this fig-tree been utterly bare and leafless, it had perhaps escaped the curse. Hear this,

ye vain hypocrites, that care only to show well; never caring for the sincere truth of a conscionable obedience: your fair outside shall be sure to help you to a curse.

That which was the fault of this tree, is the punishment of it, fruitlessness: "Let no fruit grow on thee henceforward for ever." Had the boughs been appointed to be torn down, and the body split in pieces, the doom had been more easy, and that juicy plant might yet have recovered, and have lived to compensate this deficiency; now it shall be what it was, fruitless. Woe be to that church or soul that is punished with her own sin! Outward plagues are but favour, in comparison of spiritual judgments.

That curse might well have stood with a long continuance; the tree might have lived long, though fruitless; but no sooner is the word passed, than the