self; and if their conditions were but altered, would look as high, and speak as big to him, whom he now answers with a plausible and dejected reverence.

It is thus betwixt God and us. He sees that the way to tame us is to hold us short of these earthly enjoyments. Even the most savage beasts are made quiet and docile, with want of food and rest. Oh thou who only knowest what I would do, if I had health, ease and abundance; do thou in thy wisdom and mercy, so proportion thy gifts and restraints, as thou knowest best for my soul. If I be not humbled enough, let me want; and so order all my condition, that I may want any thing, save thyself.

A Crow pulling the wool from a Sheep's back.

How well these creatures know, whom they may be bold with. That crow durst not do this to a wolf or a mastiff. The known simplicity of this innocent beast gives advantage to this presumption.

Meekness of spirit commonly draws on injuries. The cruelty of ill natures usually seeks out those, not who deserve worst, but who will bear most. Patience and mildness of spirit is ill bestowed, where it exposes a man to wrong and insult. Lamb-like dispositions are best to others, worst to themselves. I could be willing to take injuries, but I will not be guilty of provoking them by lenity. For harmlessness, let me go for a sheep; but whosoever will be tearing my fleece, let him look to himself.

The Two Snails.

THERE is much variety, even in creatures of the same kind. See there two snails. One hath a house, the other wants it; yet both are snails; and it is a question which case is the best. That which hath a house hath more shelter; but that which wants it more freedom. The privilege of that cover is only a burden. You see if it have but a stone to climb over, with what stress it draws up that beneficial load; and if the passage prove strait,

it finds no entrance. The empty snail in the meantime finds no difficulty in his way.

Surely, it is always an ease, and sometime a happiness, to have nothing. No man is so worthy of envy as he that can be cheerful in want.

The Street-cries of London.

WHAT a noise do these poor souls make, in proclaiming their commodities! Each tells what he hath, and would have all hearers take notice of it: yet after all, it is but poor stuff that they exhibit with so much ostentation. I do not hear any of the rich merchants talk of what bags he has in his chests, or what treasures he has in his warehouse. Every man rather desires to hide his wealth; and when he is urged, is ready to dissemble his ability.

Just so is it in the true spiritual riches. He that is full of grace and good works, makes no show of it to the world; but rests in the secret testimony of a good conscience, and the silent applause of God's Spirit witnessing with his own. On the contrary, the proclaiming of our own worth, or parts, or merits, argues a miserable indigence in them all.

Oh God, if the confessing of thine own gifts may glorify thee, my modesty shall not be guilty of a niggardly unthankfulness; but for ought that concerns myself, I cannot be too reserved. Let me so hide myself that I may not wrong thee, and wisely distinguish betwixt thy praise and my own.

Flies gathering to a Galled Horse.

How these flies swarm to the galled part of this poor beast; and there sit, feeding upon that worse piece of his flesh, not meddling with the other sound parts of his skin.

Even thus do the malicious tongues of detractors. If a man have any infirmity in his person or actions, to that they will be sure to gather, and there they will dwell. Meanwhile, his commendable parts and well-deservings

are passed by without mention, and without regard. It is an envious self-love and base cruelty that causes this ill disposition in men. But after all, this only they have gained it must needs be a filthy creature that feeds upon nothing but corruption.

A Dark Lantern.

THERE is light indeed, but so shut up as if it were not; and when the side is most open, there is light enough to give direction to him that bears it, but none to others. He can discern another man by that light which is cast before him, but another man cannot discern him.

Such is reserved knowledge: no man is the better for it but the owner. There is no outward difference betwixt concealed skill and ignorance; and when such hidden knowledge will look forth, it casts so sparing a light as only shows it to have an unprofitable being. It is like an ability, without a will to do good; a power to censure, but none to benefit. The suppression or engrossing of those helps which God would have us to impart, is but a thief's lantern in a true man's hand.

Oh God, as all our light is from thee, the Father of lights; so make me no niggard of that poor rush-candle which thou hast lighted in my soul. Make me more happy in giving light to others, than in receiving it into myself.

A Swallow in the Chimney.

HERE is music, such as it is; but how long will it hold? When a cold morning comes, my guest is gone, without either warning or thanks. This pleasant season hath the least need of cheerful notes: the dead of winter shall want, and wish them in vain.

Thus doth an ungrateful parasite. No man is more ready to applaud and enjoy our prosperity; but when with the times our condition begins to alter, he is a stranger at least. Give me that bird which will sing in winter, and come to my window in the hardest frost. There is no trial of friendship, but adversity. He that is

not ashamed of my bonds, not daunted with my checks, not alienated with my disgrace, is a friend for me. One dram of that man's love, is worth a world of false and inconstant formality.

A Fly burning itself in the Candle.

SOLOMON says, The light is a pleasant thing; and so certainly it is; but there is no true outward light which proceeds not from fire. The light of that fire then is not more pleasing, than the fire of that light is dangerous : and that pleasure doth not more attract our sight, than that danger forbids our approach. How foolish is this fly, that in love and admiration of this light, will know no distance; but puts itself heedlessly into the flame in which it perishes. How many circles it fetched, every one nearer and nearer, till it made this last venture. And now that merciless fire, taking no notice of the affection of an over-fond client, hath suddenly consumed it.

Thus do those bold and busy spirits, who will needs draw too near to that inaccessible light, and look into things too wonderful for them. They hover about the secret counsels of the Almighty, till the wings of their presumptuous conceits are scorched, and their daring curiosity hath paid them with everlasting destruction.

Oh Lord, let me be blessed with the knowledge of what thou hast revealed. Let me content myself to adore thy divine wisdom, in what thou hast not revealed. So let me enjoy thy light, that I may avoid thy fire.

The Skylark.

How nimbly doth that little lark mount up, singing towards heaven in a right line; while the hawk, which is stronger of body and swifter of wing, towers up by many gradual compasses, to his highest pitch. That bulk of body and length of wing hinders a direct ascent, and requires the help both of air and scope to advance his flight; but the small bird cuts the air without resistance, and needs no outward aid to speed her flight.

Just so is it with the souls of men, in flying up to heaven. Some are hindered by those powers which would seem helps to their soaring up thither. Great wit, deep judgment, quick apprehension, send men about with no small labour, for the recovery of their own incumbrance; while the good affections of plain and simple souls raise them up immediately to the fruition of God. Why should we be proud of that which may slacken our way to glory? Why should we be disheartened with the small measure of that, the very want whereof may, as the heart may be affected, facilitate our way to happiness?

A Spring Morning.

How cheerfully do these little birds chirp and sing, at the approach of the sun and the return of the spring; as f their life had departed, and returned with those glorious and comfortable beams.

Thus the penitent and faithful soul is affected towards the true Sun of righteousness, the Father of lights. When he hides his face it is troubled, and silently mourns away that sad winter of affliction. When he returns, in his presence is the fulness of joy; no song is cheerful enough to welcome him. Oh thou who art the God of all consolation, make my heart sensible of the sweet comforts of thy gracious presence; and let my mouth ever show forth thy praise.

A Coal covered with Ashes.

NOTHING appears in this heap but dead ashes: here is neither light, smoke, nor heat. Yet when I stir up these embers to the bottom, there are found some living gleeds which contain fire, and are apt to propagate it.

Many a christian's breast is like this hearth. No life of grace appears there for the time, either to his own. sense or to the apprehension of others: while the season of temptation lasts, all seems cold and dead. Yet still at the worst, there is a secret coal from the altar of heaven raked up in their bosom, which betrays some remainder of that fire, and by divine influence is easily raised to