The sight of a Feast.

WHAT a variety is here of flesh and fish, as if both nature and art were striving to pamper us! Yet methinks, enough is better than all this. Excess is only a burden, both to the provider and the guest. It pities and grieves me to think what toil, what charge hath gone to the ga thering of all these dainties together; what pain so many poor creatures have been put to, in dying for a needless sacrifice to the belly; what a penance must be done by every attendant in setting out all these dishes; what a task the stomach must be put to in digesting so many mixtures. I am not so austerely scrupulous as to deny the lawfulness of these abundant provisions upon just occasions, I find my Saviour himself, more than once, at a feast this is recorded, as well as his one long fast. Doubtless, our bountiful God hath given us his creatures, not for necessity only, but also for pleasure. But these exceedings should be both rare and moderate; and when they must be, they require no less patience than temper

ance.

Might I have my choice, oh Lord, I would say; give me rather a little, with peace and love, He whose provision for every day was thirty measures of fine flour, and threescore measures of meal, thirty oxen, a hundred sheep, besides venison and fowl, can still pray, ' Give me bread sufficient.' Let me have no perpetual feast, but a good conscience and from these great preparations for the health both of soul and body, let me rise, rather hungry than surcharged.

On the Sound of a Lute.

THERE may be, for ought we know, infinite inventions of art, the possibility of which we should hardly ever believe, if they were foretold. Had we lived in some rude and remote part of the world, and heard that it is possible, only by a hollow piece of wood, and the entrails of beasts moved by the fingers of men, to make so sweet and melodious a sound; we should have thought it utterly

incredible. Yet now that we see and hear it commonly done, we make no wonder of it. Hence it is not astonishing that we cannot imagine what kind and means of harmony, God will have used by his saints and angels in heaven, seeing that these poor matters appear so strange to us, even though our very senses are convinced.

Oh God, thou hast innumerable ways of glorifying thyself by thy creatures, which far transcend our weak and finite capacities. Let me wonder at thy wisdom and power, and be more awful in my adorations, than curious in my enquiries.

The Peacock.

I SEE there are many kinds of hypocrites. Of all birds, this makes the fairest show, and the worst noise. This indeed is a hypocrite to the eye. There are others, as the blackbird, that looks foul and sooty, but sings well. This is a hypocrite to the ear. Others please us much, both in show and voice, but are unpleasant in their carriage and condition; as the popingay, whose colours are beautiful, and notes delightful; yet is it apt to do mischief, in scratching and biting any hand that come near it. These are hypocrites both to the eye and ear. Yet there is a degree further, beyond the example of all irrational creatures, of those whose appearance, whose words and actions are fair; but their hearts are foul and abominable. No outward beauty can make the hypocrite other than odious. For me, let my profession agree with my words, my words with my actions, my actions with my heart; and let all of them be approved of the God of truth.

A Penitent Malefactor.

I KNOW not whether I should more admire the wisdom or the mercy of God, in his proceedings with men. Had not this man sinned thus notoriously, he had never been thus happy. While his courses were fair and civil, he himself was graceless. Now that his miscarriage hath drawn him into a just affliction, his affliction hath hum

bled him. God hath taken this advantage of his humiliation, for his conversion. Had not one foot slipped into the mouth of hell, he had never been in this forwardness to heaven.

No man is so weak or foolish, but he has strength and wit enough to sin, and to make an ill use of his sin. It is only the goodness of an infinite God that can make our sin good to us, though evil in itself. No thanks to ourselves or to our sins, that we are bettered with evil. The work is thine, oh Lord, and thine be all the glory.

The Lily.

THIS must needs be a goodly flower, seeing that our Saviour hath singled it out, to compare with Solomon; and that not in his ordinary dress, but in all his royalty. Surely the earth had never so glorious a king as he. Nature yielded nothing to set forth royal magnificence, that he did not possess: yet he that made both Solomon and this flower, says, that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.

What a poor thing is this earthly dignity, which is so easily surpassed. What ill judges are we of outward beauties, who contemn these goodly plants which their Creator thus magnifies; and admire those base metals, which he in comparison contemns. If it be their transitoriness that abases them, then what are we? All flesh is grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass.' As we cannot be so beautiful, so neither are we more permanent.

Oh God, let it be my ambition to walk with thee hereafter in white. Could I put on a robe of stars here, like proud Herod, that glittering garment could neither keep me from lice or worms. Might I sit on a throne of gold within a house of ivory, I see I should not compare with this lovely flower. I might be as transitory, but not so beautiful. What matters it whether I now go for a flower, or a weed. Let it be which it will, I must wither. Oh thou who art greater than Solomon, do thou clothe me with thy perfect righteousness: so shall I flourish for ever n the courts of the house of my God.

A Coffin dressed with Flowers.

Too fair an appearance is never free from just suspicion. While here was nothing but mere wood, no flower was to be seen: now that this wood is lined with an unsavoury corpse, it is adorned with this sweet variety. The fir of which the coffin is made, yields of itself a fragrance: now that it is stuffed with a human body, all helps are too little to countervail that scent of corruption.

Nor is it otherwise in the living: perpetual use of strong perfumes, argues a guiltiness of some unpleasant savour. The case is the same spiritually; an over-glorious outside profession, implies some inward filthiness that wants to escape notice. Our uncomely parts have more abundant comeliness put upon them. Too much ornament imports extreme deformity. For me, let my show be moderate so shall I neither seek applause, nor merit too deep a censure.

View of the World.

It is a good thing to see this material world; but it is still better to think of the intelligent world. It is thus that the soul discerns things like itself, spiritual and immortal; which are so much beyond the worth of these sensible objects, as a spirit is beyond a body, a pure substance beyond one that is corruptible, an infinite God above a finite creature.

How great a word is that which the Psalmist says of thee, oh Lord; That thou abasest thyself to behold the things both in heaven and on earth. It is our glory to look up even to the meanest part of heaven: it is an abasement to thine incomprehensible Majesty to look down upon the best of heaven. Oh what a transcendent glory must that be, which is abased to behold the things that are in heaven! What a happiness it will be, that mine eyes shall be exalted to see thee, who art humbled to see the place and state of my blessedness. Yea, those very angels that see thy face, are so resplendently glorious, that we could not outlive the sight of one of their faces,

who are constrained to hide their faces from the sight of thine. How many millions attend thy throne above, and thy footstool below, in ministering to thy saints. Yet it is only a communion with the invisible world that can make me truly blessed. Oh God, if my body have fellowship here amongst beasts, of whose earthly substance it participates; yet let my soul be united to thee, the God of spirits, and be raised up to enjoy the society of the blessed above. Acquaint me beforehand with those citizens and affairs of heaven; and let me be no stranger to my future glory.

The Stinging of a Wasp.

WHAT Small things may annoy the greatest! Even a mouse troubles an elephant, a gnat a lion, and a flea may disquiet a giant. What weapon can be nearer to nothing than the sting of this wasp; yet what a painful wound it has given me. That scarce-visible point how it envenoms, and rankles, and swells up the flesh. The tenderness of the part adds much to the grief.

And if I be thus vexed with the touch of an angry fly, how shall I be able to endure the sting of a tormenting conscience. As that part is most active and most sensible, so the wound which it receives from itself is most intolerably grievous. There were more ease in a nest of hornets, than under this one torture. Oh God, howsoever I may fare abroad, give me peace at home; and whatever my flesh suffer, keep my soul free.

Thus pained, wherein do I find ease, but in laying honey to the part affected. That medicine only abates the anguish. How near hath nature placed the remedy to the disease. Whenever my heart is stung with remorse for sin, only thy sweet and precious merits, oh blessed Saviour, can mitigate and heal the wound. They have virtue to cure me; give me grace to apply them. That sovereign receipt shall make my pain happy, and thus shall I applaud my grief: It is good for me that I was thus afflicted.