der upon their own persons, as if they were afraid not to die by a hand wicked enough. The expectation of Death, to them, is more unsufferable than Death itself; and they had rather cast themselves into the bottomless pit of hell, than endure the apprehensions and fears of hell in their guilty consciences: and to be delivered of the flashes of hell-fire, and mount up their souls in this life, they cast themselves in a brutish manner into that unquenchable burning.

That which is most terrible is, that the horrid and insufferable fears that seize upon the wicked, are not short and transitory; for as a criminal, that knows there is a sentence of death pronounced against him, continually thinks upon those torments that are preparing for him; as soon as he hears the door unlocking, or a fly buzzing at his ears, he imagines that some are entering to drag him from his prison to execution. In some sense, he desires what he apprehends, and hastens the approaches of that which he wishes, but cannot avoid. Thus desperate sinners, that know there is a sentence of eternal death proclaimed against them in the court of the King of kings, and that from this sentence there is no appeal nor escape, must needs be in continual fears. Such foresee the fearful image of Death, that disturbs their quiet, and, as St Paul expresses himself, "through fear of Death, they are all their life-time subject to bondage," Heb. ii. 15. That is, they are like so many wretched slaves, that tremble under the inhuman power of a merciless tyrant.

I know that there be some atheists, who talk of Death with contempt or scorn, and who make an open profession of braving Death without the least sense of fear nevertheless they feel in their souls some secret thorns, with which Death often galls them; some fears and apprehensions, with which it tortures and disquiets them,

when they dream least of it. It is true, they, for the most part, boast of not fearing the approaches of Death, and laugh at it, when they imagine that it is at a distance from them: but these are they who are most apt to tremble at the near and grim countenance of Death, and soonest discover their weakness and despair. If there be any that seem to laugh at Death, their laughter is only an appearance upon the lips. They are like a child newly born, that seems to smile, when it is inwardly tormented in the bowels; or like those that eat of the famous herb mentioned by the herbalist, which causes a pleasant laughter to appear upon the lips of such, into whose noble parts it conveys a mortal poison that kills them.

There be some, I confess, that die without any concern; but these are either brutish or senseless persons. much like unto a sleeping drunkard, who may be cast down a precipice, without any knowledge or foresight of the danger; or they be pleasant mockers, who are like the foolish criminals, who go merrily to the gallows; or they be such as are full of rage and fury, whom I may well compare to an enraged wild boar, that runs himself in the huntsman's snare: such monsters of men deserve not to be reckoned among rational and understanding creatures.

CHAP. II.

That in all the Heathen Philosophy, there is no solid and true comfort against the Fears and Apprehensions of Death,

THERE

are certain empirics, that seem at the first discourse to be very well skilled in their art, that talk of diseases, and of their causes, most learnedly and acutely; and, nevertheless, in their practice, they are both un

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happy and ignorant. Their unseasonable learning disturbs the patient more than their physic eases him, and increases the sufferings of the languishing body. These kind of physicians very well describe to us, in this particular, the properties of the heathen philosophers; for when they represent the calamities of our human condition, they sharpen their wits, and discover all their skill and rhetoric. Some of them laugh ingenuously at our miseries; others artificially weep to behold them. But in all their writings and tragic expressions, we find not any solid and sincere comforts to strengthen us against the apprehensions of Death. Therefore their contemptible and vain fancies oblige us to tell them, as Job his troublesome friends, "Your remembrances are like unto ashes, your bodies to bodies of clay," Job xiii. 12. It is true, some of those learned philosophers have very well spoken, that we begin to die as soon as we begin to breathe; that our life is like unto a candle, that lives by its consumption, whereof the flame devours and consumes it: for, the natural heat that entertains our life insensibly undermines it; it is that which spends our radical moisture, that yields the same benefits to our life as oil to a lamp, or wax to a taper. Others have as well said, that our present life is but a swift race from one mother to another. They meant, from the womb of our mothers that brought us into the world, into the womb and bosom of the earth, that will receive us at last; for, as soon as we are born, we run a swift race towards our grave. At that instant, when we fly from Death, we approach in* sensibly towards it; and, contrary to our intention, we cast ourselves into its embraces. Some of the same school have compared man to a bubble upon the water, that rises and swells, and immediately decreases and breaks. Others make him like unto the waterish bottles of divers colours, that children blow with their breath, and destroy

with the same. In truth, all man's beauty is but a vain appearance, that vanishes away in an instant, Isa. xl. "All flesh is like grass, and all the glory of man like "the flower of the field," 1 Pet. i.

One of these great philosophers, being asked what the life of man was, answered never a word; because such a question deserved none, or rather because he would imitate the custom of his age, of speaking by guess, and symbolical representations. For that purpose he entered into a chamber, and passed out again at the same instant, to signify, to his disciples that questioned him, how that man's life is but an entrance in, and an egress out of, the world; the one succeeds immediately the other.

Another, of the same sect, walked in a bravado two or three turns, and then shrunk into a pit, to shew that our life is but a kind of masquerade, a vain appearance that soon vanishes: When men have well admired themselves in their splendour, and have drawn to them the looks and esteem of the world, Death surprises them, and spoils all their lustre, and covers their borrowed glory in a mournful grave. It is with us as with actors in a comedy; the one represents a king, the other an emperor; the one a I counsellor, the other a minister of state; but, when the comedy is ended, and the garments changed, you know not which is which. We are like counters upon a table; some signify units, others tens, others hundreds, and others thousands and millions; but, when they are shuf fled together, and put again into the purse, the vast difference appears no more. This is a lively image of all mankind; for in this life some appear upon a throne, others are seated upon a dunghill; some flourish in golden and silken attire, others are clothed in nakedness; some command as princes, others submit as galley-slaves; some are fed with exquisite dainties, others must be content with the bread of affliction. But, when Death has No, 1.

cast them all into their graves together, then they appear distinction.

without any

All these witty expressions, and others of the like nature, are pleasant and true; they teach well, and flatter the fancy; but they afford no real comfort. Therefore, to all these learned doctors we may say, as Job by the way of reproach to his friends that added sorrow to his affliction, "You are all physicians of no value. How "then comfort ye me in vain ?" Job xiii. 9. When a patient is afflicted with the tortures of an unmerciful gout, or of the stone in the kidneys, that force from him every moment most grievous sighs and groans; if any should offer to paint before him his looks and grimaces, or should counterfeit them ingeniously in his presence, he would bring him little ease to his torments, but rather increase to his vexation and trouble. The most beautiful flower, also, can give no delight to such as are racked in the executioner's hand, or tied to four horses that are ready to tear him to pieces. Thus it is with the most eloquent and florid discourse; it can bring no comfort to a soul that is departing: David's harp alone can drive away the evil spirits, and appease the troubles of a wounded conscience.

But some may imagine, in this general survey of the wise follies and vanity of the heathen philosophers, I should except the Stoics: I confess, in this particular, they express more gravity, but they proceed with no better success; nay, when I have well considered them, I find them to be far more insufferable and impertinent than the rest; for, besides that they treat of the immortality of the soul in a very doubtful and inconsistent manner, the pretended comforts that they offer render death more dreadful. They tell us, that Death is the end and centre where all human afflictions and miseries cease; therefore, it is rather to be desired, than avoided or feared. They might have some colourable reason for this conclu