and even innumerable. Because as thou considerest the whole with all its parts in one distinctly, so dost thou see all, though never so many, never so different, never so remote; and seest them all together, with one and the same act of thy Divine knowledge. This is of such unbounded comprehension, so incapable of being separated in its own operations, or distracted with variety of objects, that one and many are the same, and both understood and observed alike, because falling alike under the same undivided and entire wisdom, which applies the whole of itself to the consideration of each and every thing.

me so.

And thus I ought to believe myself, and every thing belonging to me, as much under thy eye, as if thy providence had no other care: for thou art always present, always ready, if thou do but find Wheresoever I go, thou goest along with me, except I first forsake and fall from thee. Wherever I am, thou abidest with me; for thou art every where; that I may find thee upon every remove, and so subsist by thee: for otherwise I must perish, not being able to subsist without thee. I must acknowledge, then, that every thing I do is done in thy presence; thou understandest every action, and the nature of it, much better than even I who am the doer of it. For let me do what I will, and when I will, still thou art present at all times equally, an incessant observer of all my views and intentions, my inclinations and inward complacencies, my words and actions. So good reason have I to cry out with David, Lord, thou knowest all my desire, and understandest my thoughts afar off.

Thou seest how the Spirit moves me, whence it comes, where it rests, and whither it tends, be

cause thou art the weigher of spirits. The outward act, like a well-leaved tree, may be fair and flourishing, and impose upon the eyes of men; but the all-seeing Judge goes deeper, he examines the sap and root thoroughly. If this be rotten or bitter, if the intentions be corrupt, he deals with the tree according to its root, and recompenses the man after the bent of his heart. The evil that he would do is punished, and the good he endeavoured and heartily desired to do, but could not, is as kindly accepted as if it had been actually accomplished. Thou seest, as soon as I begin to move, what I design and delight in; thy ears and eyes are ever open; thou attendest diligently, and enterest punctually into thy book, whatever I do, whether it be good, or whether it be evil, that the one may receive a bountiful reward, the other its deserved punishment. And this shall surely be when the books shall be opened, and all mankind shall be judged out of the things which are written in those books, according to their works.

Thus may we understand what is said of thee, that thou searchest out all perfection; because in human actions thou hast a greater regard to what we wish and intend to do, than to what we really do. And when I seriously consider, that this is the method by which thou proceedest, shame and confusion, fear and horrible dread, sink my spirits: to think how holy and upright, how pure and sincere, all our intentions and behaviour ought to be, since we do every thing in the sight of our Judge; a Judge on whom no disguise can impose, but who does not only see our actions, but perfectly discern our most secret thoughts.

MEDITATION XLVIII.

The Weakness of Human Nature and Need of Divine Grace.

O LORD, the God of the spirits of all flesh, whose eyes are upon all the ways of the sons of men, from the very instant of their entrance into this world, to that of their departure out of it, that thou mayest render to every man according to his doings; bring me, I beseech thee, acquainted with myself, that I may be truly sensible of my weakness and my wants: I have indeed presumed to say, but they were but vain boasts, that I was rich, and stood in need of nothing; while, alas! I was poor and blind, and naked, and miserable, and weak. Thus I thought myself something, when in truth I was nothing; and professing myself to be wise, I became a fool; I arrogated the little good I had to my own wisdom and diligence, but thou hast undeceived my partial mistakes, and convinced me now effectually, that every excellence is entirely thy gift, that without thee we can do nothing; and as the Psalmist well observes, except thou, Lord, art pleased to keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain. Thou hast taught me experimentally, of how little significance are human strength and industry, by leaving me for a while destitute of thy help, and bringing my supposed abilities to the proof; not for thy better information, who knowest me perfectly before, but in order to the creating in me right views of myself, and abating that unjust

esteem I entertained for qualifications not yet understood. For it is true, my God, I did not only think myself something, but that my being so, was owing to myself, and that my own strength was security sufficient; nor did I discover that my safety was the effect of thy guidance and protection, till thou thoughtest fit to withdraw thyself for a season, and sufferedst me to fall for want of thy support. By this event, alas! I had but too sensible and too sad a demonstration, that all I did commendably before was the effect of thy gracious governance; that my misery and my fall were properly my own; but my recovery and my standing, thine and only thy doing.

And

Thus hast thou in mercy opened my eyes, and awakened me out of my deceitful dream, by letting me see, that man is appointed to a state of warfare upon earth, that dangers and temptations beset him every where, that no flesh can have whereof to glory before God, in hope to be justified in the sight of their almighty Judge; since whatever good thing we have to do, be the proportion less or more, still the whole is thy gift, and nothing truly our own but our sins and our miseries. what shall man then find to glory of? Of his sins and miseries? That were most absurd, a cause of shame and sorrow, but none for boasting or selfsatisfaction. What then? of any good? No, not that neither; for this is equally absurd, to glory of that which is not our own, but another's. For thine, O Lord, is all the good, and consequently thine all the glory. He that assumes to himself the honour of the good that is thine, the same is a thief and a robber; and thus far resembles the devil himself, that he would usurp upon the majesty and

S

property of his Master. He that is ambitious of praise for thy gifts, and aims not at promoting thy honour, but his own, how profuse soever men may be in their commendations of him, yet thou wilt be sure to reproach and condemn him for his arrogance and injustice. And what shall the praise of men then profit him? For though they extol never so much, yet if thou disapprove, they shall not be able to defend him when thou sittest in judgment, nor to deliver him from vengeance, when thy awful voice shall pass the fatal sentence upon him.

Therefore, O Lord, who hast formed and sustained me from my mother's womb, suffer me not, I implore thee, to fall under that condemnation, of attempting to steal away any part of thy glory. Thine is all the good, and fit it is that thine should be all the honour of it. To me belongs only confusion of face, and misery unspeakable; for mine is all the evil, and of that evil this must be the consequence, unless thy mercy interpose and rescue me. But thou, my Lord, wilt have mercy; thy mercy extends to all thy works, and thou hatest nothing that thou hast made; thou impartest to us of thy own goodness, and enrichest us with many excellent gifts; having declared thyself a lover of the poor, and a provider for their necessities out of thy hid treasures. Behold we are poor, we are thy needy children, thy little flock; open to us thy gates, that the poor may eat and be satisfied, and the heart of them that seek thee, may praise thee and live for ever. For I am taught, that none but they who see, and acknowledge, and lament their poverty, shall be enriched by thee; while the rich and great in their own conceits, (who are in reality the least and most wretchedly indigent of all others)