been his act, and not Christ's: neither doth he say, "Pray that I may come to thee," as if this act had been out of the power of either: but," Bid me come to thee. I know thou canst command both the waves and me: me to be so light, that I shall not bruise the moist surface of the waves; the waves to be so solid, that they. shall not yield to my weight. All things obey thee: bid me come to thee upon the waters."

It was a bold spirit, that could wish it; more bold, that could act it. No sooner hath our Saviour said, Come, than he sets his foot upon the unquiet sea; not fearing, either the softness or the roughness of that uncouth passage. We are wont to wonder at the courage of that daring man, who first committed himself to the sea in a frail bark, though he had the strength of an oaken plank to secure him: how valiant must we needs grant him to be, that durst set his foot upon the bare sea, and shift his paces! Well did Peter know, that he, who bade him, could uphold him; and therefore he both sues to be bidden, and ventures to be upholden. True faith tasks itself with difficulties; neither can be dismayed with the conceits of ordinary impossibilities. It is not the scattering of straws or casting of molehills, whereby the virtue of it is described, but removing of mountains. Like some courageous leader, it desires the honour of a danger, and sues for the first onset; whereas, the worldly heart freezes in a lazy or cowardly fear, and only casts for safety and ease.

Peter sues; Jesus bids. Rather will he work miracles, than disappoint the suit of a faithful man. How easily might our Saviour have turned over this strange request of his bold disciple; and have said, "What my Omnipotence can do is no rule for thy weakness? It is no less than presumption in a mere man, to hope to imitate the miraculous works of God and man. Stay thou in the ship, and wonder; contenting thyself in this, that thou hast a Master, to whom the land and water is alike." Yet I hear not a check, but a call; Come. The suit of ambition is suddenly quashed, in the mother of the Zebedees: the suits of revenge prove no better, in the mouth of the two fiery disciples: but a suit of faith, though high and seemingly unfit for us, he hath no power to deny. How much less, O Saviour, wilt thou stick at those things which lie in the very road of our Christianity! Never man said, "Bid me to come to thee in the way of thy commandments," whom thou didst not both bid and enable to come.

True faith rests not in great and good desires, but acts and executes accordingly. Peter doth not wish to go, and yet stand still; but his foot answers his tongue, and instantly chops down upon the waters. To sit still and wish, is for sluggish and cowardly spirits. Formal volitions, yea velleities of good, while we will not so much as step out of the ship of our nature to walk unto Christ, are but the faint motions of vain hypocrisy. It will be long enough, ere the gale of good wishes can carry us to our haven. Ease slayeth the foolish. O Saviour, we have thy command, to come to thee out of the ship of our natural corruption: let no sea affray

us; let no tempest of temptation withhold us. No way can be but safe, when thou art the end.

Lo, Peter is walking upon the waves: two hands uphold him; the hand of Christ's power, the hand of his own faith; neither of them would do it alone. The hand of Christ's power laid hold on him; the hand of his faith laid hold on the power of Christ commanding. Had not Christ's hand been powerful, that faith had been in vain had not that faith of his strongly fixed upon Christ, that power had not been effectual to his preservation. While we are here in the world, we walk upon the waters: still the same hands bear us up. If he let go his hold of us, we drown; if we let go our hold of him, we sink and shriek as Peter did here, who, when he saw the wind boisterous, was afraid, and beginning to sink, cried, saying, Lord, save me,

When he wished to be bidden to walk unto Christ, he thought of the waters; Bid me to come to thee on the waters: he thought not of the winds, which raged on those waters; or if he thought of a stiff gale, yet that tempestuous and sudden gust was out of his account and expectation. Those evils, that we are prepared for, have not such power over us, as those, that surprise us. A good waterman sees a dangerous billow coming towards him, and cuts it, and mounts over it with ease; the unheedy is overwhelmed. O Saviour, let my haste to thee be zealous, but not improvident: ere I set my foot out of the ship, let me foresee the tempest: when I have cast the worst, I cannot either miscarry or complain.

So soon as he began to fear, he began to sink. While he believed, the sea was brass; when once he began to distrust, those waves were water. He cannot sink, while he trusts the power of his Master; he cannot but sink, when he misdoubts it. Our faith gives us, as courage and boldness, so success too: our infidelity lays us open to all dangers, to all mischiefs.

It was Peter's improvidence, not to foresee; it was his weakness, to fear; it was the effect of his fear, to sink; it was his faith, that recollects itself, and breaks through his infidelity, and in sinking could say, Lord, save me. His foot could not be so swift in sinking, as his heart in imploring: he knew who could uphold him from sinking, and, being sunk, deliver him; and therefore he says, Lord, save me.

It is a notable both sign and effect of true faith, in sudden extremities to ejaculate holy desires; and, with the wings of our first thoughts, to fly up instantly to the Throne of Grace, for present succour. Upon deliberation, it is possible for a man, that hath been careless and profane, by good means to be drawn to holy dispositions; but, on the sudden, a man will appear as he is: whatever is most rife in the heart will come forth at the mouth. It is good, to observe how our surprisals find us: the rest is but forced; this is natural. Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. O Saviour, no evil can be swifter, than my thought my thought shall be upon thee, ere I can be seized

upon by the speediest mischief: at least, if I overrun not evils, I shall overtake them.

It was Christ his Lord, whom Peter had offended in distrusting; it is Christ his Lord, to whom he sues for deliverance. His weakness doth not discourage him from his refuge. O God, when we have displeased thee, when we have sunk in thy displeasure, whi ther should we fly for aid, but to thee, whom we have provoked? Against thee only, is our sin; in thee only, is our help. In vain shall all the powers of heaven and earth conspire to relieve us, if thou withhold from our succour. As we offend thy justice daily by our sins, so let us continually rely upon thy mercy by the strength of our faith. Lord, save us.

not say,

The mercy of Christ is, at once, sought and found; Immedi ately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him. He doth "Hadst thou trusted me, I would have safely preserved thee; but since thou wilt needs wrong my power and care with a cowardly diffidence, sink and drown;" but rather, as pitying the infirmity of his fearful disciple, he puts out the hand for his relief. That band hath been stretched forth for the aid of many a one, that hath never asked it; never any asked it, to whose succour it hath not been stretched. With what speed, with what confidence, should we flie to that sovereign bounty, from which never any suitor was sent away empty!

Jesus gave Peter his hand; but withal he gave him a check: O thou of little faith, why doubtedst thou? As Peter's faith was not pure, but mixed with some distrust; so our Saviour's help was not clear and absolute, but mixed with some reproof. A reproof, wherein there was both a censure and an expostulation; a censure of his faith, an expostulation for his doubt; both of them sore and heavy,

By how much more excellent and useful a grace faith is, by so much more shameful is the defect of it; and by how much more reason here was of confidence, by so much more blame-worthy was the doubt. Now Peter bad a double reason of his confidence; the command of Christ, the power of Christ: the one in bidding him to come, the other in sustaining him while he came. To misdoubt him, whose will he knew, whose power he felt, was well worth a reprehension.

When I saw Peter stepping forth upon the waters, I could not but wonder at his great faith; yet behold, ere he can have measured many paces, the Judge of Hearts taxes him for little faith, Our mountains are but moats to God. Would my heart have served me, to dare the doing of this, that Peter did? Durst I have set my foot where he did? O Saviour, if thou foundest cause to censure the weakness and poverty of his faith, what mayest thou well say to mine? They mistake, that think thou wilt take up with any thing. Thou lookest for firmitude and vigour in those graces, which thou wilt allow in thy best disciples, no less than truth.

The first steps were confident; there was fear in the next.

Oh the sudden alteration of our affections, of our dispositions! One pace varies our spiritual condition. What hold is there of so fickle creatures, if we be left never so little to ourselves? As this lower world, wherein we are, is the region of mutability; so are we, the living pieces of it, subject to a perpetual change. It is for the blessed saints and angels above, to be fixed in good. While we are here, there can be no constancy expected from us, but in variableness.

As well as our Saviour loves Peter, yet he chides him. It is the fruit of his favour and mercy, that we escape judgment; not that we escape reproof. Had not Peter found grace with his Master, he had been suffered to sink in silence: now, he is saved with a check. There may be more love in frowns, than in smiles: whom he loves he chastises. What is chiding, but a verbal castigation? and what is chastisement, but a real chiding? Correct me, O Lord, yet in thy judgment, not in thy fury. Oh let the righteous God smite me, when I offend, with his gracious reproofs; these shall be a precious oil, that shall not break my head. `Matt.xiv.

THE BLOODY ISSUE HEALED.

THE time was, O Saviour, when a worthy woman offered to touch thee, and was forbidden; now, a meaner touches thee, with approbation and encouragement. Yet, as there was much difference in that body of thine which was the object of that touch, (being now mortal and passible, than impassible and immortal,) so there was in the agents; this a stranger, that a familiar; this obscure, that famous.

The same actions vary with time and other circumstances; and accordingly receive their dislike or allowance.

Doubtless, thou hadst herein no small respect to the faith of Jairus, unto whose house thou wert going. That good man had but one only daughter, which lay sick in the beginning of his suit; ere the end, lay dead. While she lived, his hope lived; her death disheartened it. It was a great work, that thou meantest to do for him; it was a great word, that thou saidst to him, Fear not; believe, and she shall be made whole. To make this good, by the touch of the verge of thy garment thou revivedst one from the verge of death. How must Jairus needs now think; "He, who, by the virtue of his garment, can pull this woman out of the paws of death, which hath been twelve years dying; can as well, by the power of his word, pull my daughter, who hath been twelve years living, out of the jaws of death, which hath newly seized on her!" It was fit the good Ruler should be raised up, with this handsel of thy Divine power, whom he came to solicit."

That thou mightest lose no time, thou curedst in thy passage. The sun stands not still, to give his influences, but diffuses them in his ordinary motion. How shall we imitate thee, if we suffer our

hands to be out of use with good? Our life goes away with our time. We lose that, which we improve not.

The patient laboured of an issue of blood; a disease, that had not more pain than shame, nor more natural infirmity than legal impurity.

Time added to her grief: twelve long years had she languished under this woeful complaint. Besides the tediousness, diseases must needs get head by continuance; and so much more both weaken nature and strengthen themselves, by how much longer they afflict us. So it is in the soul; so in the state: vices, which are the sicknesses of both, when they grow inveterate, have a strong plea for their abode and uncontrollableness.

Yet more, to mend the matter, poverty, which is another disease, was superadded to her sickness: She had spent all she had upon physicians. While she had wherewith to make much of herself, and to procure good tendance, choice diet, and all the succours of a distressed languishment, she could not but find some mitigation of her sorrow; but now want began to pinch her, no less than her distemper, and helped to make her perfectly miserable.

Yet could she have parted from her substance with ease, her complaint had been the less. Could the physicians have given her, if not health, yet relaxation and painlessness, her means had not been misbestowed; but now, she suffered many things from them many an unpleasing potion, many tormenting incisions and divulsions, did she endure from their hands: the remedy was equal in trouble to the disease.

Yet had the cost and pain been never so great, could she have hereby purchased health, the match had been happy; all the world were no price for this commodity: but alas! her estate was the worse, her body not the better; her money was wasted, not her disease. Art could give her neither cure nor hope. It were injurious to blame that noble science, for that it always speeds not. Notwithstanding all those sovereign remedies, men must, in their times, sicken and die. Even the miraculous Gifts of Healing could not preserve the owners from disease and dissolution.

It were pity, but that this woman should have been thus sick; the nature, the durableness, cost, pain, incurableness of her disease, both sent her to seek Christ, and moved Christ to her cure. Our extremities drive us to our Saviour; his love draws him to be most present and helpful to our extremities. When we are forsaken of all succours and hopes, we are fittest for his redress. Never are we nearer to help, than when we despair of help. There is no fear, no danger, but in our own insensibleness,

This woman was a stranger to Christ. It seems she had never seen him, The report of his miracles had lifted her up to such a confidence of his power and mercy, as that she said in herself, If I may but touch the hem of his garment, I shall be whole. The shame of her disease stopped her mouth from any verbal suit. Had she been acknown of her infirmity, she had been shunned and abhorred, and disdainfully put back of all the beholders; as