yea an assurance, of being happy! He, that is the Lord of Life, and tried what it was to die, hath proclaimed them blessed that die in the Lord. Those are blessed, I know, that live in him; but they rest not from their labours: toil, and sorrow, is between them, and a perfect enjoying of that blessedness, which they now possess only in hope and inchoation: when death hath added rest, their happiness is finished. The Taste of O death, how sweet is that rest, wherewith thou our Meditation. refreshest the weary pilgrims of this vale of mortality! How pleasant is thy face to those eyes, that have acquainted themselves with the sight of it, which to strangers is grim and ghastly! How worthy art thou to be welcome, unto those, that know whence thou art, and whither thou tendest! Who, that knows thee, can fear thee? Who, that is not all nature, would rather hide himself amongst the baggage of this vile life, than follow thee to a crown? What indifferent judge, that should see life painted over with vain semblances of pleasures, attended with troops of sorrows on the one side, and on the other with uncertainty of continuance and certainty of dissolution; and then should turn his eyes unto death, and see her black, but comely, attended on the one hand with a momentary pain, with eternity of glory on the other; would not say, out of choice, that which the Prophet said out of passion, It is better for me to die than to live? The Com- But, O my soul, what ails thee to be thus suddenly plaint. backward and fearful? No heart hath more freely discoursed of death, in speculation: no tongue hath more extolled it, in absence. And now, that it is come to thy bed's side, and hath drawn thy curtains, and takes thee by the hand, and offers thee service, thou shrinkest inward; and, by the paleness of thy face and wildness of thine eye, bewrayest an amazement at the presence of such a guest. That face, which was so familiar to thy thoughts, is now unwelcome to thine eyes. I am ashamed of this weak irresolution. Whitherto have tended all thy serious meditations? What hath Christianity done to thee, if thy fears be still heathenish? Is this thine imitation of so many worthy saints of God, whom thou hast seen entertain the violentest deaths with smiles and songs? Is this the fruit of thy long and frequent instruction? Didst thou think death would have been content with words? didst thou hope it would suffice thee to talk, while all others suffer? Where is thy faith? Yea, where art thou thyself, O my soul? Is heaven worthy of no more thanks; no more joy? Shall heretics, shall pagans give death a better welcome than thou? Hath thy Maker, thy Redeemer sent for thee; and art thou loth to go? hath he sent for thee, to put thee in possession of that glorious inheritance, which thy wardship hath cheerfully expected; and art thou loth to go? Hath God, with this sergeant of his, sent his angels to fetch thee; and art thou loth to go? Rouse up thyself for shame, O my soul: and, if ever thou hast truly believed, shake off this unchristian diffidence; and address thyself joyfully for thy glory. Yea, O my Lord, it is thou, that must raise up this The Wish. faint and drooping heart of mine: thou only canst rid me of this weak and cowardly distrust: thou, that sendest for my soul, canst prepare it for thyself: thou only canst make thy messenger welcome to me. Oh, that I could but see thy face through death! Oh, that I could see death, not as it was, but as thou hast made it! Oh, that I could heartily pledge thee, my Saviour, in this cup; that so I might drink new wine with thee, in thy Father's kingdom! But alas, O my God, nature is strong and weak in The Confession. me, at once! I cannot wish to welcome death, as it is worthy when I look for most courage, I find strongest temptations: I see and confess, that when I am myself, thou hast no such coward as I. Let me alone, and I shall shame that name of thine, which I have professed: every secure worldling shall laugh at my feebleness. O God, were thy martyrs thus haled to their stakes? might they not have been loosed from their racks, and choose to die in those torments? Let it be no shame, for thy servant to take up that complaint, which thou madest of thy better attendants; The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. The Petition and Enforce ment. O thou God of Spirits, that hast coupled these two together, unite them in a desire of their dissolution: weaken this flesh to receive, and encourage this spirit either to desire or to contemn death; and now, as I grow nearer to my home, let me increase in the sense of my joys. I am thine, save me, O Lord. It was thou that didst put such courage into thine ancient and late witnesses, that they either invited or challenged death; and held their persecutors their best friends, for letting them loose from these gieves of flesh. I know, thy hand is not shortened; neither any of them hath received more proofs of thy former mercies. Oh, let thy goodness enable me to reach them, in the comfortable steadiness of my passage. Do but draw this veil a little, that I may see my glory; and I cannot but be enflamed with the desire of it. It was not I, that either made this body for the earth, or this soul for my body, or this heaven for my soul, or this glory of heaven, or this entrance into glory all is thine own work. Oh, perfect what thou hast begun; that thy praise and my happiness may be consummate at once. Yea, O my soul, what needest thou wish the God The Assurance of Mercies to be tender of his own honour? Art or Confidence. thou not a member of that body, whereof thy Saviour is the Head? Canst thou drown, when thy Head is above? Was it not for thee, that he triumphed over death? Is there any fear in a foiled adversary? O my Redeemer, I have already overcome in thee: how can I miscarry in myself? O my soul, thou hast marched valiantly! Behold, the damsels of that Heavenly Jerusalem come forth with timbrels and harps to meet thee, and to applaud thy success: and Now, there remains nothing for thee but a crown of righteousness, which that righteous Judge shall give thee, at that day: 0 death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The Thanks- Return now unto thy rest, O my soul; for the Lord giving. hath been beneficial unto thee. O Lord God, the strength of my salvation, thou hast covered my head in the day of battle: O my God and King, I will extol thee, and will bless thy Name for ever and ever. I will bless thee daily, and praise thy Name for ever and ever. Great is the Lord, and most worthy to be praised, and his greatness is incomprehensible: I will meditate of the beauty of thy glorious Majesty, and thy wonderful works: Hosanna, thou that dwellest in the highest heavens. Amen. |