for substantial treasure; yet now, since the cheat is discovered, since you have seen this false pack opened and nothing but counterfeit wares obtruded upon you, your folly will be inexcu sable, if, after experiments and admonitions, you should contribute any longer to your own cheat, and set a price upon things which you know to be vile and worthless. The Wise Man, as you have heard, sums up their whole value, only in a great cypher and a great blot, Vanity and Vexation. At what price would you rate Vanity, which is nothing? or Vexation, which is worse than nothing? No And, therefore, our Saviour, Mark iv. 7. compares the things of this world to thorns: some fell among thorns: which thorns he interprets to be the cares of this world, and the deceitfulness of riches: v. 19. Now, he were a madman, that, to assuage his hunger, would attempt to swallow a bush of thorns. less is the madness and extreme folly of most men, who, to satisfy the eager appetite of a hungry and indigent soul, gape after the thorns of this world, and chew thistles; which, instead of yielding them either grapes or figs, will only serve to pierce them through with innumerable sorrows. A man's wisdom or folly is commonly judged by the bargains he makes. If he lay out that, which is very precious, to purchase what is of no worth, this we justly account a foolish bargain. If, on the other hand, he purchase that, which is of great price, with something little worth, we account it a wise and thriving bargain. Now here we may see the gross folly of most men. Though they are wise enough, in bartering one part of the world for another; yet they shew themselves very fools, in purchasing any part of the world with that which is no part of it. The Scripture hath told us, that all that is in the world, is honour, pleasure, or profit. While we only traffic with these for one another, we do not amiss. The world is a proper price for itself. And, doubtless, we may lawfully part with some worldly advantages to procure others. But, then, there are other things, which do not belong to the world, under this acception: our affections; our consciences; our precious and immortal souls. And these God hath given us to trade with for heaven and eternal glory. Now herein lies the folly of most men, that they purchase the vile things of this world, with such an inestimable price; and extravagantly outbid themselves, to procure trifles with that, which might procure them eternal happiness. More particularly. (1.) Is it not extreme folly, to lavish out precious affections, upon vile and vain objects? Affections are the wings of the soul, without which the soul itself, were but a dull and unactive carcase. These God hath given it, that it might be able to take its flight to heaven, and lodge itself in his bosom. Now, how unworthy a thing is it, only to flutter to and fro upon the surface of the earth; to clog and clotter these wings with mire and dirt, which were at first made to take so high and so noble a flight! The Apostle hath commanded us to set our affections on things above, and not on things on the earth: Col. iii. 2. And, indeed, there is great reason for it. For the two choice affections of the soul are Love and Joy. Now that is most worthy our love, that can return a joy most worthy of us. But the joy, that the world gives, is usually tumultuous, always checked with some secret annoy, and it ends with a dulness and damp upon the spirits: it is but like the empty crackling of thorns under a pot*, that for the present makes a great noise and blaze,, but suddenly vanisheth all away into smoke. Whereas, a heavenly Christian feels sometimes a ponderous and weighty joy; a joy springing up in his soul, almost intolerable, and altogether unutterable ; a joy, that melts him into ecstasy and rapture. How infinitely doth he then disdain, that any soul.should be so wretchedly sottish, as to prefer the world before, or equalize it with God! He thinks the happiness he then enjoys so great, that, although he believes it is, yet he cannot conceive how it should be more or greater in heaven itself. Then the soul claps its wings: it would fain take its flight, and be gone: it breathes, it pants, it reaches after God, and falls into an agony of joy and desire inconceivably mixed together. Can the world give us any such over-powering joy as this? It may afford us corn and wine; the weak recruits of a frail life: but, when it hath emptied all its store and abundance into our bosoms, it is not worthy to be mentioned with the love and favour of God, which is better than life itself: Psal. Ixiii. 3. And, therefore, the Psalmist makes it his prayer, Psal. iv. 6, 7. Lord, lift thou up the light of thy coun * Eccl. vii. 6. Flamma stipula exorta, claro crepitu, largo fulgore, eito incremento; sed enim materiá levi, caduco incendio, nullis reliquiis. Apul. Apol. tenance upon us. Thou hast put gladness in my heart, more than The joy of the world resembles a torrent. As, upon a glut of rain, you shall have a torrent come rolling along with noise and violence, overflowing its banks, and bearing all before it; yet it is but muddy and impure water, and 'tis soon gone and dried up such is all the joy this world can give: it makes a great noise, 'tis commonly immoderate, and swells beyond its due bounds; yet 'tis but a muddy and impure joy; it soon rolls away, and leaves nothing behind but a drought in the soul. Now, since the world's joy is but such a poor empty thing as this, it is most gross folly for us to lay out our best love upon that, which cannot repay us with the best joy. (2.) If the world be thus vain, what folly is it, to lay out our most serious cares and contrivances upon it! The cares of worldly men are most absurd and irrational. Ask them why they care; they will tell you it is,. that they may live without care and, yet, the more they get, the more do their cares swarm and increase about them. To what purpose do they thus disquiet themselves? They were as good make nets to catch the wind, as lay plots either to obtain or secure a world, which is so slippery and so full of disappointments, that neither they who have it, are sure of keeping it, nor they who have it not of getting it. We may observe a kind of coyness in the world. Those, who court it most and pursue it closest, ofttimes miss of their designs, because they overact them. And, it is commonly seen, that those, who, as we use to say, have many irons in the fire, get nothing thereby, but only the burning of their own fingers. 'Tis true, there is a prudential and providential care, that is so far from being chargeable with folly, that it is necessary, and a great part of our duty; not only as we are men, but as we are Christians*. And this prudential care is, when we do what lawfully we may to procure the comforts of life; and, then, with all quietness and indifferency, submit the success to God. This is a Care of Diligence. But that, which is justly branded with folly, is a Care of Diffidence; which is alway accompanied with torment, fears, and distractions about the success and issue; and most unreasonably vexeth us, for what is not in our power to determine. Such a * 1 Tim. v. 8. care as this usurps upon God. And, certainly, it is no less a fault to invade God's part, than to neglect our own; and a like folly. The right temper a Christian should observe in procuring any worldly comfort, is, to interest his judgment in the choice of means, but to keep his affections disinterested and unconcerned in the event. But, when we are anxious how our designs will succeed, we make it a torment to us in getting, before we can make it a comfort to us in enjoying. To what purpose, then, dost thou, O Worldling, rack thy brains with contrivances, how to fill thy bags with treasure, how to empty them out with advantage? When thou hast added heap to heap, of all thy store thou enjoyest no more, than what thou eatest, or drinkest, or wearest. And, of this too, thou enjoyest no more, than will just suffice to satisfy thy hunger, to quench thy thirst, and to fence off the injuries of the weather: all the rest turns either to diseases or burdens. True reason will teach us to chuse our estates, as we would do our garments: not those, which are largest ; but those, which are fittest for us*. Vast and overflowing estates are but like huge enormous rud. ders, that rather serve to sink the ship, than steer it. Their abundance is useless, and their excess dangerous. To what end, therefore, is all our care and carking, all our perplexing and solicitous thoughts; those parching and consuming distractions, which can hasten on nothing but our own natural decays: to what end are they, unless it be to contradict our Saviour, and shew that we have a power to make our black hairs white +? When we lay subtle and intricate designs, to obtain the things of this world, we are but like spiders, that, with a great deal of art and labour, weave a curious cobweb, only to catch flies; and, possibly, spend more of their bowels in framing it, than the prey they catch can again repair: yea, and it may be too, before the prey be caught, both they and their web are swept down together and trod in the dust, * Fortuna, velut tunica, magis concinna quàm longa probanda: quippe etiam ea, si non gestetur et trahatur, nihilo minùs quàm lacinia præpendens im▾ pedit et præcipitat. Etenim in omnibus ad vitæ munia utendis, quicquid ap, tam moderationem supergreditur oneri potius quàm usui exuberat. Apul. Apol. + Mat. v. 36. So, when we frame designs, to get any worldly advantage, it is but taking a great deal of pains to catch a fly: and, possibly, before it be caught, the rude hand of death wraps us about in our cobweb, and sweeps us down into the grave; and, in that very moment, we and all our well-laid projects perish together: Ps. cxlvi. 4. (3) If the world be thus vain, what extreme and prodigious folly is it, to take as much pains to secure the poor and perishing concernments of it, as would suffice to secure heaven and eternal glory, were they laid out that way! We labour for the bread that perisheth, and we perish with it in our very mouths. About this, are our hearts, our hands, our strength, our time employed: whereas the great things of eternity are so utterly neglected by us, as if they were none of our concernments to look after. Were we but as laborious in our Christian Calling, as we commonly are in our Worldly Callings, salvation would not lie upon our hands unwrought; God, and Christ, and all heaven were ours. Who would doubt, when they see men so busy about impertinencies, and the trivial affairs of this world, but that they were much more anxious about their souls? Who would not conclude, that certainly their great work is already done, that shall see them so earnest and solicitous about petty matters? But, alas! it may astonish men and angels, that rational creatures, who have immortal souls, souls whose endless duration must abide either in inconceivable misery or bliss, should trifle away that time and strength, which might secure their everlasting happiness, about those vain nothings, that have neither happiness in them nor continuance. Certainly, the service of God is not more painful than the drudgery of the world: and, sure I am, it is far more cleanly. Thou shalt not in his service set thy hand to any foul office: whereas, the World employs thee basely to rake together thick clay, and load thyself with it; and the Devil, yet worse, to rake in the mire and filth of all manner of defilements, which now pollute the soul, and will hereafter damn it. Both these are most grievous task-masters. Some draw iniquity with cords of vanity, and sin as it were with a cart-rope: Isa. v. 18. They are so enslaved to the work of the Devil, that he puts them into his team, makes them draw and strain for their iniquities, and doth them a courtesy when their sins come easily. He makes them toil and sweat, in carry |