patient, and thou shalt be comforted; remember thou art militant: dost thou find thyself timorous? strengthen thyself with resolution; dost thou find thyself spent? fortify thyself with prayer.

His Prayer.

O God, that hearest the sighing of a contrite heart, and bottlest up the tears of a repentant eye, bow down thy gracious ear, and hear the torments of a grieved breast; look on my tears, and read in them what my closed lips are even ashamed to utter. Thou madest me free, but I have lost my freedom by my rebellion; thou madest me like thyself, but I have blurred thine image by my sin; thou madest me clean and holy, but I have wallowed in the mire of my own corruptions; thou madest me for thy glory, but I have lived to thy dishonour; thou madest me a man, but I

have made myself a worm and no man. Lord, I see the misery of my own condition, and without thy mercy I am worse than nothing: but thou art gracious and of great compassion, and thy truth endures from generation to generation. Lord, thou hast promised joy to those that grieve, and comfort to them that mourn'; in full assurance of thy gracious promise, upon my bended knees, I humbly sue for thy seasonable performance! Strengthen me, that I may endure this night's sorrow, and let the joy of thy good Spirit cheer me in the morning; let me not grieve like those that go into the pit, nor let my mourning be like theirs that have no hope; let not the vain comforts of the world please me, nor the dead pleasures of the earth rejoice me; make me a willing prisoner to my grief, until thou please to shew thyself the God of consolation; sanctify my sorrows to me,

and direct my mourning to the right
object; open the flood-gates of mine
eyes, that I may weep bitterly for my
offences; dissolve my head into a tide
of tears, that thou mayest wash away
the filth of my corruptions; let nothing
stop the current but the assurance of
thy love; and let my furrowed cheeks
be dried in the sunshine of thy favour.
Accept, O God, of this wet sacrifice of
tears, and let my groaning be a peace-
offering for my trespasses.
my trespasses. Look at thy
right hand, and for HIS sake that sits
there, grant these my petitions, firmly
grounded on thy promise and his merits;
that my sad soul, being relieved by thy
mercy, may receive endless comfort, and
thy name, eternal glory.

L

261

THE SERPENT.

His Subtilty.

WHAT miserable dignity belongs unto the honourable name of man! what sad prerogatives pertain to that unhappy generation of mankind! Ah! what is man but a polluted lump of living clay, a little heap of self-corrupted earth? created for happiness, born to sorrow: and what is mankind but a transitory succession of misery, on whom mortality is generally entailed from generation to generation? Each particular man is the short and sad story of mankind, written by his own dear experience in a more favourable style, wherein every one is naturally inclined to spare himself, and hide his nakedness among the shades; where, being lost, he seeks himself unfound, or finds himself un

known, or knows himself most miserable. The devil appeared not as a lion; strength could not constrain an upright soul: he appeared not as a Aragon; fear could not compel a dauntless spirit: but he appeared A SERPENT, to insinuate and creep into the bosom of his soft affections. How often is this story acted by me, the miserablest of Adam's sons! Behold, how the forbidden tree of vain delight stands laden with her pleasant fruits! see how the serpent twists and winds, and tempts the weaker vessel of my body! which, having yielded, tastes, and tempts my better part; which done, what nakedness, what shame is presented before my guilty eyes? what slight excuses (patched like leaves together) I frame to hide my nakedness, my shame! and when the voice of my crying conscience calls me in the cool of my lusts, oh, how I start and tremble, and seek for covert among the trees! where, being