Let any Handy-crafts-man that works in his Shop, imprint in his Mind, this excellent Sentence, Our days are like the days of an hireling; and when he hath ended his Task, and is departing to his Reft, let him comfort himself with this Affurance, That as foon as he fhall have ended that Work that GOD hath given him to do, he fhall reft from all his Labours, Job 7.

Whenever the Phyfician vifits the Patient, or when the Chirurgeon dreffes the Wounds, let them confider, that they have no Secret or Art able to protect them from Death, or to cure the Breaches that it makes in our corruptible Nature.

Let the most cunning Lawyers, the most advised Counsellors, and the moft eloquent Orators, remember that all their Rhetorick and Subtilty will never obtain for them their Suit against Death, nor procure a Moment of Refpite or Delay.

And let the most learned Philofophers learn, That the foundest Philofophy is the Meditation of Death.

In short, Whatever be our Imployment, Condition, or Age, let us lift up our Minds and Hands unto GOD, to speak to him in the Language of the Prophet David; Lord, let me know my end, and the number of my days, that I may know how long I am to live. Or of Mofes, So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto Wisdom.

A Prayer and Meditation on our Mortality.

My God and Heavenly Father, fince 'tis thy Pleasure,

that I fhould be mortal, and that my Body fhould return to the Duft; Grant me Grace to be always mindful of my frail Condition, and seriously to reflect upon the feveral Changes of Times, the Variety of Seafons, the Unconftancy of the World, and Alterations I meet with, as Memento's of my laft Change and Departure. Let my Infirmities and frequent Diftempers be lookt upon as so many Messengers fent to fummon and warn me that I must shortly leave this Tabernacle. Let the Bed I reft on call to my mind, that when

all

all the Bufinefs of my Life shall be finished, I must lie down and reft in a Bed of Duft. Let the Garments that I caft off at Night, the Sleep that benums my Senfes, the Tombs of my Predeceffors, Forefathers and Friends, refresh in me the Thoughts of my Daparture to my last Home: Gracious GOD, give me Grace fo often to look upon Death and the Grave, that I may be acquainted with them, and that they may not fright or terrify, but comfort me; for tho' I know I am born to die, I know alfo this, that Death fhall introduce me into the Prefence of my GOD, the onely Author of Life and Happiness, to live for ever with Him in Blifs. Amen.

CHA P. VIII.

The Second Remedy against the Fears of Death, is to expect it at every Moment.

T

IS not fufficient to think often upon Death, and to Difcourfe of it in a Pathetical manner; and there be fome that frequently mention Death with many pious Reflections; yet nevertheless they cannot boast of being free from all Apprehenfions of it. Their Tongue is always ready to fpeak of Death, but their Heart cannot yield to expect it. They know that Death will feize upon them, but they entertain this dangerons Opinion, That the Time is not yet come; they acknowledge that they are indebted to GOD and Nature, but they delay the Payment of the Debt from Day to Day, as if they were able to corrupt the Servants of Death, and ob tain a Reprieve at their Pleafure. There is no Man fo old and decrepit, but flatters himfelf with the fany of having as yet at leaft a Year to live in the World. In short, we imagine always, that we perceive Death at a vaft Diftance from us, and that we.

fhall

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fhall at our leifure prepare ourselves to receive it as we ought. Therefore whenever, or where-ever it comes to drag us out of the World, it surprizeth and aftonisheth us.

To prevent this Mischief, we must not only confider that we are mortal, but that our Life is fhort and of no long Continuance; we muft continually fay with Job, Are not my Days few? Job 10. And imprint in our Minds this Sentence of David, The Lord hath made my Days as an Hands-breadth, mine Age is as nothing before him, Pfal. 39. Or that of Mofes, The best of our Days are but Labour and Sorrow, for they are foon cut off, and we fly away, Pfal. 90.

The Ancients painted Time with Wings, to exprefs its unavoidable Swiftnefs. The Holy Spirit compares our Life to a Weaver's Shuttle, to an hired Servant, to a Poft that runs apace, to a Packet-Boat, or to an Eagle that flies after its Prey. The Sacred Writers fpeak of our Life as of a Torrent of Waters, of a Cloud, a Vapour, a Wind or a Breath. They tell us that our Days are gone as a Dream, they fly away as a Shadow, they vanish as a Word in the Air, and that they perifh as a Thought. In a Word, all the Lighteft and the moft unconftant things of the World, whereof the Motion is very fudden and quick, are imploy'd in Holy Scripture, to exprefs the Vanity of our Life, and fhortnefs of our Days.

Befides that, our Life is of a fhort Continuance, it flide away infenfibly, like a Clock, the Wheels move without ceafing, altho' the Hand appears to us to be fteady; or to a Plant that grows continually, altho' the Increase and Growth is not to be difcern'd by our Eye-fight; or like to a Man who ftands in a Ship under Sail, he goes forward whether he will or no. Thus, whether we Sleep or Wake, whether we Go or Lie down, whether we Eat or Faft, whether we Work or Reft, we proceed on continually forward, towards our Grave. Our Body is like a Tree eaten continually by Worms; for Day and Night they feed

upon

upon it, without intermiffion. In vain do ye banish out of your minds the thoughts of Death; if ye will not call it to your remembrance, it will not fail to mind and remember you. The more ye fly from it, the more it follows and purfues you at the heels; and when ye imagine Death to be fartheft off from you, 'tis nearest to you.

As the Cancer when it infects and enters into the Breaft, devours the Flesh without Interruption; fo Time confumes and devours us continually. The Meat that we swallow, and nourisheth us, brings us by degrees into the Imbraces of Death, as the Oyl that caufeth a Lamp to burn, brings it to an end; or as when a Torch is lighted, it begins to decay, as foon as it begins to burn; thus I may fay without mistake, that the very firft moment of this Animal Life, is the firft moment of our Death. As we fay of all fublunary Bodies, that the Generation of the one, is the Corruption of the other: So 'tis with Time, the Birth of an Hour, of a Day, of a Week, of a Month, of a Year, is the End of that which precedes. 'Tis like a Wheel that mounts to no other end, but to fall down again.

Since therefore our Life is nothing elfe but a continued Death, in proper Terms, we are mistaken to name only the moment of the feparation of the Soul and Body, the hour of Death. For as when many Cannon fhot are discharg'd against a Caftle to open a Breach, we don't fay that the laft hath done the Work: Or as when an hard Stone is cut with a Chiffel and Hammer, or infenfibly carv'd or undermin'd with Water, the laft blow, or drop don't carry away alone the Glory of the Performance: Thus when our Bodies decay and crumble away to Duft, we must not only confider the laft strugglings against Death,or the last Attempt of this Enemy. Of a Ladder where we afcend and defcend, we view every step from the top to the bottom: Of an Hour-glafs we look to every Grain of Sand; Of a Journey, we reckon the firft League, as well as the lait; and in a Race, we take no

tice of the first step that we go out as well as that when we ftopt: Thus we muft reckon our Death to begin from the firft Moment that we draw our Breath until the laft when we yield up the Ghoft..

Befides what happens every Moment to this poor and despicable Nature, an Infinite Number of ftrange unlucky, and unexpected Accidents, ftop and fhorten our Race. The Taper is not always confum'd by its own Flame, many unkind Blafts and Showers extinguifh it. If our Life is fhort, 'tis no lefs weak and uncertain. The Body in which we lead a languifhing Life, is like Jonas's Gourd. For if it be but mov'd with a contrary and unwholfome Wind, or touch'd by an unhappy Worm, it whithers upon a fudden, Jonas 4. This was the Thought of Eliphaz, when he faith, We dwell in Houfes of Clay, our Foundation is in the Duft,we are crushed before the Moth, Job 4. When GOD intends to deftroy Mankind in his Wrath, and kill Multitudes in his Difpleasure, he doth not always commiffion an Angel as his Agent, as in the Cafe of the Firft-born of Egypt; as when he ftretched forth the Sword of his Vengeance upon Jerufalem, and as when he cut off Sennacherib's Army in one Night, One hundred fourfcore and five thoufand Men. He doth not always let loofe the wicked Spirits, as when he gave them leave to raise a furious Tempeft, which caft to the Ground the Houfe where Job's Children were buried in the Ruins, Job 1. He opens not always the Fountains of Heaven, as when he washed away the firft wicked World with a fearful Deluge, Gen. 7. He caufeth not always Fire and Brimftone to rain from Heaven, as , upon Sodom and Gomorrah, upon Admah and Zeboim. He works not always Miracles in the Waters, as when he drowned Pharaoh and his Egyptian Hoft in the Waters of the Red-Sea. He prepares not always Whales to devour us, as he did Jonas. He fends not always Burning-Serpents, as to the murmuring Generation of Ifraelites in the Defarts. He commands not always the Earth to open and fwallow us up, as he did Coral, Datban,