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7. How unreasonable is it, either to quit the service of, our blessed Lord, or to serve him dejectedly! Quit it! Who hath more right in us? or where will we mend ourselves? O the treacherous folly of apostacy! and how severely is it wont to be animadverted on! 2 Chron. xii. 1. 'Tis said Rehoboam forsook the law of the Lord, and all Israel with him; and what followed? Shishak, the king of Egypt, comes against them with a great power, and God sends them this message, by Shemaiah the prophet; that because they had forsaken him, (ver. 5.) therefore he also had left them in the hands of Shishak. And afterwards, that though, upon their humbling themselves, he would not quite destroy them, but grant them some deliverance; yet he adds, Nevertheless ye shall be his (i. e. Shishak's) servants, that ye may know my service, and the service of the kingdoms of the countries, ver. 8. Since they would abandon God, and the true religion, he would, by a very sensible instruction and costly experience, teach them to distinguish, and understand the difference, and make them know when they had a good master. And if we serve him despondingly and with dejected spirits, how causeless a reproach do we cast upon him, and his service! 'tis a greater miquity than is commonly considered, implies dislike of his work, and the rules and orders of the family, impatiency of the restraints of it, distrust of his power to protect or bounty to reward us; and we may expect it to be resented accordingly. So we sometimes find it hath been, Deut. xxviii. 47, 48. Because thou servedst not the Lord thy God, with joyfulness and with gladness of heart, for the abundance of all things; therefore shalt thou serve thine enemies, which the Lord shall send against thee, in hunger, and in thirst, and in nakedness, and in want of all things, and he shall put a yoke of iron upon thy neck, until he have destroyed thee.

things; as if truth were more akin and connatural to him than to most others, sooner digested, made his own, and inwrought into the temper and habit of his mind. Which afterwards, he liked not to muddy and discompose by busy agitations with others, about that truth which he found himself in a pleasant secure possession of; nor to contend concerning that which he had not found it necessary to contend for. He declined controversy, not from inability, but dislike; for as he less needed it for a further good end, so he was most remote from loving it for itself; he was satisfied to have attained his end, and was better pleased to know, than to seem to others that he knew. He was of curious sublime fancy, and a lofty style both in speaking and writing even in his most familiar letters; though he industriously depressed it, in his popular sermons, and other negociations with those of meaner capacity. But his moral and holy excellencies were his chief lus tre, being in themselves of a more excellent kind, and shining in him in a very eminent degree. The bent of his soul was towards God. I never knew any man under the more constant governing power of religion, which made it be his business both to exercise and diffuse it to his uttermost He was a mighty lover of God and men, and being of a lively active spirit, that love was his facile, potent mover to the doing even of all the good that could be thought ( an ordinary way) possible to him, and more than was pos sible to most other men. To give a true succinct account of the complexion of his soul, he was even made up of life and love. Such was the clearness and sincerity of his sp rit, his constant uprightness and integrity, so little dark ened by an evil conscience, (and indeed, little overclouded with melancholy fumes,) that he seemed to live in the constant sense of God's favour and acceptance, and bad nothing to do but to serve him with his might; whence his 8. How are we concerned to follow the example, and spirit was formed to an habitual cheerfulness, and seemed expect the acceptance and reward, of any such faithful ser- to feel within itself a continual calm. So undisturbed a vant of Christ! And that we may imitate such a good and serenity hath, to my observation, rarely been discernible in faithful servant, let me briefly set the example of such a any man; nor was his a dull, sluggish peace, but vital and one before you, in this excellent person lately taken from joyous; seldom hath that been more exemplified in any among us; which, were it possible to represent entirely, man, (Rom. viii. 6.) To be spiritually minded is life and were one of the fairest copies to write after, that this, or peace. Seldom have any lived more under the govern perhaps many former ages could afford us. That indeed, ment of that kingdom, which stands in righteousness, peace, which it is fit should first be noted of him, is least of all and joy in the Holy Ghost, Rom. xiv. 17. His reverence imitable; I mean his natural temper, (with its more imme- of the Divine Majesty was most profound, his thoughts of diate dependencies,) which no man can have the privilege God high and great, that seemed totally to have composed to choose. His indeed was one of the happiest that I ever him to adoration, and even made him live a worshipping knew, and did so set off all that was superadded and in-life: he was not wont to speak to God, or of him, at a vul serted into it, by human culture or divine grace, as an ad- gar rate, he was most absolutely resigned and given up to vantageous setting doth the lustre of a diamond. He had him; devotedness to his interest, acquiescence in his wis all the advantages of education from his childhood, which dom and will, were not mere precepts with him, but habits. the pious care of an affectionate, prudent, learned father No man could be more deeply concerned about the affairs could give him, that were proper and preparatory to the of religion, and God's interest in the world; yet his soli function he was intended for; viz. that of the sacred mi- citude was tempered with that steadfast trust, that it might nistry. An office whereof his excellent father (the eminent, be seen the acknowledged verities of God's governing the holy, heavenly, reverend, ancient, Mr. Fairclough, of Suf- world, superintending and ordering all human affairs, h folk, whose name in that country hath still a grateful sa- wise and steady counsel, and almighty power, which in vour with all good men, of whatsoever persuasion) showed most others are but faint notions, were with him turned his high esteem and love, not only by the most diligent dis- into living sense, and vital principles, which governed his charge of it himself, but by dedicating all his sons (which soul! Whereupon his great reverence of the majesty of were four in number) to it; and giving his two daughters God, falling into a conjunction with an assured trust, and in marriage to such also. So that he was the father of a sense of his love and goodness, made that rare and happy sacred tribe, an offspring and race of ministers, or that temperament with him, which I cannot better express than (even naturally) united with such. This was the eldest of by a pleasant seriousness. What friend of his did ever. his children, and of whose education the first care was to at the first congress, see his face but with a grave smile! be taken. Scarce any mind could be more receptive of the When unexpectedly and by surprise he came in among his proper impressions, from an ingenuous institution. About familiar friends, it seemed as if he had blest the room, as twelve years he continued a student (whereof divers, a fel- if a new soul, or some good genius, were come among low) and great ornament of Emanuel-College, in Cambridge, them. as he was also much adorned by it. He went from it furnished with such a stock of rational, substantial, as well as polite literature, that showed him to have been no loiterer there. He was a man of a clear, distinct understanding, of a very quick, discerning, and penetrating judgment, that would on a sudden (as I have sometimes observed in discourse with him) strike through knotty difficulties, into the inward centre of truth, with such a felicity that things seemed to offer themselves to him, which are wont to cost others a troublesome search. Nor were his notions merely book-learned, borrowed from systems, and taken on trust, but formed by a due (but more speedy) comparing of

I need not tell them that survive, who were nearest to him, how pleasant a relative he was, nor doth any man need to tell me how pleasant a friend! No man ever more understood, than he, the ingenuities and delights of friendship, especially the high pleasure of gratifying and obliging another; the relishes whereof were so delicious to him, that no festival could be so grateful to any man as the op portunity was to him of making another taste and feel his kindness. Nor did I ever observe any thing so like a fre quent fault in him, as an aptness to overvalue his friend. He was a man of most punctual scrupulous fidelity, word was ever with him so strictly sacred, that, in the

his

smallest matters, his appointments, though numerous, were | have sometimes had the opportunity to observe in such a through his great prudence so sure, that one might, without place, that did usually attend his most fruitful ministry. the intervenience of extraordinary providence, as certainly And O how hath that congregation been wont to melt expect them, as the returns of day and night. So that they under his holy fervours! His prayers, sermons, and other that knew him, though most delighted with his society, ministerial performances, had that strange pungency, quickwere never wont to urge for his stay with them, beyond ness, and authority with them, at some times; that softness, his prefixed time, (which he commonly mentioned at his gentleness, sweetness, alluringness, at others; that one first entrance,) knowing it would be in vain. would think it scarce possible to resist the spirit and power He was of a large and great soul, comprehensive of the wherewith he spake. And the effect did in a blessed interests of God, the world, the church, his country, his measure correspond; they became a much enlightened, friends, and (with a peculiar concernedness) of the souls knowing, judicious, convinced, reformed, even somewhat of men, ready to his uttermost to serve them all: made up generally, and in good part a seriously, religious people. of compassion towards the distressed, of delight in the His labours here were almost incredible. Beside his usual good, and of general benignity towards all men. He had exercises on the Lord's day, of praying, reading the Scripa soul, a life, a name, darkened with no cloud but that of tures, preaching, catechising, administering the sacraments, his own great humility, which clouded him only to himself, (as the occasions or stated seasons occurred,) he usually but beautified and brightened him in the eyes of all others: five days in the week, betimes in the morning, appeared in an humility that allowed no place with him to any aspiring public, prayed, and preached an expository lecture upon design, or high thought, that could ever be perceived by some portion of the Holy Scriptures, in course, to such as word, look, or gesture; except the high thoughts and de- could then assemble, which so many did, that he always signs which neither ought to be excluded, nor repressed. had a considerable congregation; nor did he ever produce His greatest ambition was to do good, and partake it in the in public any thing, which did not smell of the lamp. highest and the best kind of it; to make the nearest ap- And I know that the most eminent for quality and judgproaches he could to the pattern and fountain of all good-ment, among his hearers, valued those his morning exerness. And now looking upon so qualified a person, as cises for elaborateness, accuracy, instructiveness, equally engaged by office in a peculiar sort of service to Christ, with his Lord's-days sermons. Yet also he found time, to gather and draw in souls to him, and prepare them for a not only to visit the sick, (which opportunities he caught blessed eternity; how great things may we expect! What at with great eagerness,) but also, in a continual course, all do we not find? Mells in Somersetshire was his first and the families within his charge; and personally and seveonly (public) station. Thither he was brought, by so pe- rally to converse with every one that was capable, labouring culiar a conduct and direction of Providence, as seemed to to understand the present state of their souls, and applying carry with it some signification what great use he was himself to them in instructions, reproofs, admonitions, exafterwards to be of, in that place. The very reverend Dr. hortations, and encouragements, suitably thereto: and he Whichcot, being also at that time fellow of the same went through all with the greatest facility and pleasure college in Cambridge, and presented to a living in that imaginable; his whole heart was in his work. Every day, country, that was in the disposition of that college; ob- for many years together, he used to be up by three in the tained of him to accompany him in a journey to visit, and morning, or sooner, and to be with God (which was his make some trial of the people, he had been designed to dear delight) when others slept. Few men had ever less take the charge of. Where that so accomplished person hinderance from the body, or more dominion over it; a betexpressed a resolution fit to be exemplary to others, of ter habited mind and body have rarely dwelt together. No profoundest learning, (and which was strictly afterwards controversies arose among his neighbours, within his nofollowed by this his chosen companion,) preaching his first tice, which he made it not his business to get presently comsermon (as himself was pleased to tell me) upon those posed; and his help and advice was wont to be sought by words, I determined to know nothing among you, but persons of eminent rank, and in matters of very great diffiJesus Christ, and him crucified. After some time spent culty, and importance, for that purpose. His own love of together here, the Doctor's affairs recalling him for the peace always inclining him, and his great prudence well present to Cambridge; he prevailed with our worthy friend enabling him, to be exceedingly useful, in any such case. to stay behind, and supply his absence among his people. Nor were his labours confined within that narrower verge, What follows, I was informed of by another hand, but his name and worth were too well known abroad, to let one so nearly related to this our deceased friend, and him be engrossed by one single parish; in how many places so well acquainted with the more desirable occurrences of did he scatter light, and diffuse the knowledge of God, his life, as not to leave me in doubt concerning so moment-wheresoever, within his reach, the opportunity of a lecture, ous a thing, as how he came to be settled in a country so occasional or fixed, did invite! remote from his own, and where he was so mere a stranger. And it fell out thus. During his abode upon this occasion, in those parts, a noted gentleman, the patron of the rectory of Mells, being at that time high sheriff of the county, sent to Mr. Fairclough, (of whose worth, fame had not let him long be ignorant,) desiring him to preach the assize sermon; some circumstances having also brought the matter within so narrow a compass, that the straits of time made it necessary to press the request with more importunity than could admit of a denial. That performance was so highly acceptable, and so newly over, when the patron was surprised by the tidings of the former rector of Mell's death; that he immediately told our worthy friend, he could not otherwise so fitly gratify him for his sermon, as by conferring upon him such a living, which, if he pleased to accept it, was his.

The opportunity of stated service, in a calling to which he had most seriously devoted himself, more than the emolument, (as did afterwards sufficiently appear,) soon determined his thoughts, and fixed him in this station. There he shone many years a bright and a lively light, a burning as well as a shining one; it was soon observed what a star was risen in that horizon, and a confluence was quickly gathered of such as rejoiced in the light of it, which made an obscure country village soon became a most noted place; from sundry miles about, thither was the great resort, so that I have wondered to see so thronged an auditory as I

The state of things, in those days, making it necessary (and not hindering) that what was to be done for the preservation of common order, must be by the spontaneous associating of the pastors of many congregations; how did he inspirit those assemblies! The deference that was given to him, even by very reverend persons of great value, and much exceeding him in years, with the effectual influence he had upon all their affairs, (manifestly aiming at nothing but the promoting of religion, and the common good,) were only arguments of the commanding power of true worth. And the good effects upon the people, showed how much could be done by a naked, undisguised recommendation of oneself to men's consciences, in the sight of God. Nor would his brethren, of greatest value, (and divers there were, in those parts, of very great,) think it any detraction from themselves to acknowledge much more to the wise, modest, humble activity of his spirit, in their common concernments, than I shall be willing to arrogate to him. He was, upon the whole, a very public blessing in that country, while he kept his public station in it; and when the time approached of his quitting it, he eminently showed his constant, great moderation in reference to the controverted things, that occasioned his doing so, in all his reasonings with his brethren about them. And it further appeared, in the earnest bent of his endeavours to form the minds of his people, as much as was possible, unto future union, under the conduct of whoso should succeed

him, in the serious care of their souls; and to a meek, unrepining submission to that present separation, which was now to be made between him and them; whereof the extant abridgment of sundry his later sermons to them are an abundant testimony; though such a repression of their sorrows it was not possible to them to receive, otherwise than as dutiful children are wont to do the exhortations of an affectionate, dying father, not to mourn for his death. In the substantial things of religion, no man was more fervently zealous; about the circumstantials, none more cool and temperate.

But he could in nothing prevaricate with his (once settled) judgment, or depart in his practice one ace from it; yet such was the candour and softness of his spirit, that nothing could be more remote from him, than to pass any harsh censures upon those that received that satisfaction in the scrupled points, which he could not; but he continued a most entire undiminished friendship with many of them (and several of eminent note, by whom also it was equally cherished, on their parts) even to the last. His great contempt of the world, and remoteness from making the sacred office subservient to secular interest, a design of enriching himself by it, or more than to subsist, too soon appeared in the mean condition to which he was brought, by that deprivation. For though the annual profits of his living were very considerable, yet his free (but well regulated) hospitality, and large diffusive charity, (wherein his excellent consort, one of the most pious, prudent, well accomplished matrons I ever knew, most readily concurred with him,) kept them from being superfluous, or flowing into coffers. He had laid no treasure, but in heaven; and was the son of a no way unlike father, from whom the expectancy of a patrimonial estate could not be great; and whom (to his no small joy while he continued) he survived but a little. So that for some years (as I have heard him say) he did owe much of his subsistence to the bounty of some worthy citizens of London, whose temper it is to take more pleasure in doing such good, than in having it told the world who they were. His usefulness was such, since his deprivation, (not in serving a party, a thing too mean and little to be ever thought of by him, without disdain; but,) in pressing the great, and agreed things, that belong to serious, living religion; that it even melts my soul to think of the overwhelming sorrows wherewith the tidings of his death must have been received, by multitudes in the west, that were often wont with greatest delight and fruit to enjoy his most lively, edifying labours.

His decease confirms it to us, once more, that nothing, belonging to this world of ours, is too good to die. But it is a great argument of God's kind propensions towards it, and speaks much of his good-will to men, that now and then such heavenly creatures are permitted to inhabit it, and such specimina and efforts of the divine life to appear, and be put forth in it. It shows God hath not forsaken the earth, and that his tabernacle is with men, when any such are to be found here.

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It ought to be reckoned very monitory, and a great rebuke, when such are (earlier than according to natural course) taken away. It should make us love heaven so much the better, that such as he are gathered thither; not that it needs any thing to better it in itself, but that we can now better relish the thoughts that arise out of our own present knowledge; and having seen true goodness exemplified, may thence more easily take our advantage to apprehend what that state is, wherein there will be so vast a collection of excellent creatures, so perfectly good, by most liberal eternal participations from the first and uncreated good. How taking is this notion of heaven! I especially pronounce this holy man blessed, saith a great man in the ancient church, speaking of an excellent person deceased, for that he hath passed from one order to another, (erarážaro,) and leaving our city, hath ascended to another city, even that of God himself; and leaving this church of ours, is gone into the church of the first-born who are written in heaven; and hath left our solemn conventions for that of myriads of angels; referring to that of the apostle, Heb. xii. and magnifying (that wavńyvpis) that glorious convention, not for the multitude of the powers above only, but for the confluence of the good, with a perfect vacancy of envy, and an abounding perpetual joy and satisfaction of mind-love, peace, goodness, &c. and every fruit of the Spirit in most plenteous fulness, (to this purpose he speaks.) and what an amiable heaven is this!

Yea, and it may incline us to have somewhat the kinder thoughts of this our meaner native element, and less to regret that our earthly part should dissolve and incorporate with it, to think what rich treasure, what shrines of a lately inhabiting deity, (now become sacred dust,) it hath from time to time received, and transmuted into itself. How voluminously have some written of Roma Subterranea kol the tombs of martyrs, and other excellent persons, (as many of them were,) collected in one little spot of this earth And if there were as particular an account of the more refined part of the subterraneous London, much more of all places where just and holy men have dropped, and deposed their earthly tabernacles; how would our earth appear ennobled (and even hallowed) by such continual accessions to it, in all times and ages? What a glorious host wil arise and spring up, even out of one London! Is not the grave now a less gloomy thing? Who would grudge to he obscurely awhile, among them with whom we expect to rise, and ascend so gloriously? It should make us diligent in the remaining time of our abode here; what should not the expectation of such a welcome carry us through? Well done, good and faithful servant, &c. How studious should we be, so to acquit ourselves, as he hath done? Blessed is that servant whom the Lord, when he comes, shall find so doing. Let us then be steadfast, unmoveable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, as knowing our labour shall not be in vain in the Lord.

k Jo. Severanus, P. Aringhus, &c.

A SERMON

ON THE MUCH LAMENTED DEATH OF THAT REVEREND AND WORTHY SERVANT OF CHRIST,

MR. RICHARD ADAMS, M. A.

SOMETIME FELLOW OF BRAZEN-NOSE COLLEGE IN OXFORD, AFTERWARDS MINISTER OF SAINT MILDRED, BREADSTREET, LONDON, MORE LATELY PASTOR of a conGREGATION IN SOUTHWARK,

WHO DECEASED FEBRUARY 7TH, 1697-8.

TO MRS. ANNA ADAMS, WIDOW, AND COLONEL JOHN ADAMS, BROTHER, TO THE DECEASED MR. RICHARD ADAMS.

MY HONOURED FRIENDS,

DEATH is too common a theme, and too obvious to our sense, to be thought strange, any more than that we live. But that the course of our life, as to the rise, progress, and period of it, is at the dispose of one common Lord of all, because it belongs to a sphere above sense, is little considered by the most. To you, I doubt not, it's far from being a new or unfamiliar thought. And thereupon, that the precious life you have lately seen finished, was measured by him who could not therein be unkind to him who is gone; or to you who stay behind.

We do, indeed, tempt ourselves, if we expect from his kindness unreasonable things. As that he should, to gratify us, alter the course of nature, or recall the universal commission of death, or only let it stand in force with an exception, as to ourselves, our relatives, and friends, or that he should tear his own most inviolable constitutions; by which the present state is to be but transitory, and the future the only fixed state; which were to subvert the whole frame of religion, to nullify the design of redemption, to take down his tribunal, to abolish and lay aside all thoughts of a judgment to come, and finally to make the kingdom of his dear Son to terminate in a dunghill. While no such wish hath place with you, your reconciliation is easy to the providence that hath for the present bereaved you of so delectable a relation. And the love of God, which, prevailing in you, will prompt you to compliance with his will, must be the evidence of your title to the best blessings of both worlds. For both the things in the other state, the eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, &c. And the concurrent operation of all things for good in this present state, do all belong to persons of the same character, the lovers of God, 1 Cor. ii. 9. Rom. viii. 28. Which that you may constantly and fully experience to the end, and in the end, is the serious prayer, for you, of,

Your very respectful

and affectionate servant in Christ,

JOHN HOWE.

PHILIPPIANS I, 23.

HAVING A DESIRE TO DEPART, AND TO BE WITH CHRIST; WHICH IS FAR BETTER.

IF you should have no other subject for your present consideration, than only, that one in your neighbourhood is lately dead; even that itself would deserve your very serious thoughts. The translation of human souls from world to world, and out of this present into their eternal state, is no light matter; and does claim and challenge more serious thoughts, than it is commonly wont to find and meet with. Nor does the commonness of such an occasion at all excuse the slightness of men's thoughts upon it; but rather aggravate it unspeakably more. That which we find to be so common and universal a case, we may be sure will shortly be our own: and as it is now matter of discourse with us, that such a one is dead, we shall, ere it be long, according as we have been more or less regarded in the world, be a like subject of discourse to others. But it is a greater thing, when it can be said, a good man is gone; there is a more special remark to be put upon the decease of such a one, Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright, the end of that man is peace, Psal. xxxvii. 37. There is that agreement between his

way and his end, they are so much of a piece, and do so exactly correspond; a course transacted in a constant serenity and peace, meeting at length with peace as the end of it; an even course, still, uniform, self-agreeable, ever equal to and like itself, ending at last in peace: Mark this! how he goes off, mark such a life so ending! But it yet challenges more intense consideration, when such a one is taken away from amongst us, and the progress and period of his course come to be viewed together, whose life was a continued series of labours in the Lord's vineyard, from the earlier to the later hours of his day; when such a one has finished his course, and fought out the good fight of faith, and is entered into his rest; by the vouchsafement of his indulgent Lord and Master is made to rest from his labours, and receive the reward of them, the reward of grace, with a Well done, good and faithful servant, enter into the joy of thy Lord!

And sure it cannot be ungrateful to you, to be desired here to stay a little, to make a stand, and pause, and entertain yourselves awhile with the consideration of such a

theme and subject as this. Especially it cannot be an un- | grateful contemplation, to such as have known the doctrine, and purpose, and faith, and charity, and manner of life, of such a one, as the apostle speaks; so as to be told of nothing, but what you knew before: and so they are not dubious and uncertain thoughts, that you are to employ upon such a theme; you are well assured of the truth of the fact, and when you know it to be true, you cannot but discern it to be very considerable and important truth, and of very great concernment to you. What the spirit of such a one has been through his whole course, you have a very high example of in this blessed apostle; and a copy has been written out fair, after such a pattern, by this lately deceased worthy servant of Christ. Besides the many straits and difficulties that great apostle met with in the course and current of his time, he meets with this towards the end of it, to be in a strait between two, and he does not know what to choose, viz. between these two things, the consideration of what would be the best and most valuable good to himself; and the consideration of what would be the more valuable good unto the Christian church; and particularly unto these Christian Philippians, to whom he now writes. He had no doubt at all in the case, but that to depart, and to be with Christ, would be the best and most valuable good to himself: and it was as little to be doubted of, but that his continued abode and stay in this world, would be much more a valuable good unto the Christian church; and unto this or that church in particular, that had enjoyed, and might further enjoy, his most fruitful labours. His difficulty and strait was not either what was best for him, or what was best for them; but which of these two he should, upon the whole, prefer; whether he should prefer his own private interest, or prefer the common interest of Christ in the world. And upon weighing and pondering the matter with himself, he does prefer the latter, so as, without any kind of hesitation to express a great complacency in it, that he should be continued yet longer, some time longer, for common good, in this world. And it was a most noble piece of self-denial that was exercised herein, if you consider what the apostle's privileges had been. He had been caught up into the third heaven, he had there seen unutterable things; nor could he doubt his interest in the felicity and glory of the heavenly state. On the other hand consider, his life here on earth was no voluptuous life, it was not a life of ease and pleasure. See the account that he gives of it in 1 Cor. iv. and 2 Cor. vi. and in chap. xi. of the same epistle. And to find, amongst how many deaths he conversed as it were every day of his life, how familiar labours, and fastings, and watchings were to him; yea stripes and imprisonments; and that he was now at this time a prisoner, as we see in some foregoing verses of this very chapter, viz. ver. 13, 14, 16. even in the very lion's paw, in the continual expectation of being devoured, and not long after to be offered up, as he elsewhere speaks. Yet he seems to take great complacency in the thoughts of having some addition made to his time in this world, on the common Christian account; and that his own blessedness and glory should be, for this reason, a little while deferred; he was patient of this, he could endure it, out of his love to Christ and the souls of men. But as to himself, for what he esteemed, and desired accordingly, as his best and most valuable good, he was in no hesitation or doubt concerning that; but pronounces without any more ado, that he did desire to be dissolved, or depart, (the words may be read either way,) and to be with Christ, which is far better; only he distinguishes what was his own most valuable good, and what was the most valuable good of the Christian church. And though he give this latter the preference, as in itself the more considerable thing; yet as to himself, and his own concerns, to depart, and be with Christ, he reckons far better and accordingly he did desire it as such, as better for him; as having nothing to detain him, or nothing which, on his own private account, he could so much mind or covet, as that.

Now in this comparison, 'tis this one side of it which the words that I have read to you do call us to consider, and confine us to at this time. As to that other part, it lies within the compass of the context, but not of the text; and so we shall not treat of that at present: but consider,

what is the genuine temper and disposition of a Christian, and more particularly of a minister of Christ, in reference to what he is to eye and look upon as his own best and most valuable good; and that is, to depart, and to be with Christ. This indeed the apostle speaks of himself, a great and eminent minister of the Gospel of Christ. But though this temper and disposition of spirit was agreeable, it was not appropriate, to such a one. It is indeed very agreeable, it is very suitable to the spirit of a faithful minister of Christ in reference to himself, and any interest and concern of his, to desire to depart, and to be with Christ: but it is not so agreeable to such a one, as to be appropriate to him, or to exclude the generality of serious and living Christians; because it is upon one account, principally common to ministers and to other Christians, that this judgment is to be made, and this desire is to have place in reference to that judgment. And therefore, that is what I will, for the little time that remains, chiefly insist upon:That it ought to be, and in very great measure is, the tem per and character of gracious persons, or sincere Christians, but principally of the faithful ministers of Christ, with reference to any interest or concern of theirs, to desire to leave this world, and to be with Christ.-And in speaking to this, I shall briefly, I. Explain what requires to be explained in it; and then, II. Show you upon what grounds this temper and disposition of mind is agreeable, in the general, to sincere Christians:-III. Upon what more peculiar grounds it is more especially suitable to the faithful ministers of Christ: and so make use of the whole, I. As to what requires explication. Here we must show you what the object of this desire is in the first place; and then, secondly, show you what this desire, with the judg ment unto which it is conformable, imports and carries in it. Then we shall proceed to consider the grounds, both with reference to Christians in general, and the faithful ministers of Christ in special, of their having this as an habitual temper of spirit belonging to them.

1. We are to consider the object, which this disposition of spirit, here described, has reference to. And that is two-fold, privative, and positive. There is,

(1.) The privative object, that this disposition has reference to; and that is, departing from hence. Their desire is to be gone, not to stay always here, i. e. as to any concern of their own. Indeed upon other accounts, abstracted from their own and more important, there may be considerations that may induce their willingness to stay; but as to their own concerns, the privative object of their de sire, is, to be dissolved, or to be gone, cis rò áradioai, they would fain be dissolved; take that reading, and this is such a one's sense, I would fain have my bonds and shackles taken off, I would be loose, not be always confined to a body of sin and death, and to a vain and wicked world; for these are the things to which we are united: or take the other reading, that are to be left, in this departure. To depart, what are we to depart from? Why, the grate mina; the most grievous things are, a body of sin and death, and a vain and sinful world. When God sees good, I would depart says, such a one, from these irksome griev ous things, that, while they detain me, torment me every hour. And then,

(2.) There is the positive object, that this disposition has reference to; and that is, to be with Christ. This is a mighty thought, if we had time to stay upon it. It is generally to be considered here, with reference to what state of our Lord Christ, this was spoken, and then what it is to be with him in that state.

First, With reference to what state of our Lord Jesus this was spoken, I desire to be with Christ. Christ was not at this time in his state of humiliation; he was not now in the form of a servant; he was not now going to die, and sacrifice himself upon an ignominious cross, as it was mentioned he had done, in the next chapter, who be ing in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God; he made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was obedient to death. It is not in reference to this state, but what follows, that this is spoken; Wherefore God has highly exalted him, and given him a name above every name; that at his name, or in his name, every knee shall bow, both of things in heaven, and things on earth, and things under the earth

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