THE SOVLS SOLILOQUIE: AND, A Conference with Conſcience.

THis Pſalme was directed to the Sons of Core, but with this Inſcription, In finem intellectûs filiis Core, implying a caution, that they ſhould be ſure, they underſtood what they ſung; which that they might the eaſier doe, you ſhall find this very Verſe thrice re­peated over; twice in this Pſalme; once in the next: ſuch Repetitions being uſuall, when God would awake the Memory: As he does in the 136 Pſal. where, that his Mercy might not be forgotten, (without any danger of Tautologie) ſeven and twenty times he repeats it over, For his mercy endureth for ever.

If we look on This Pſalme in the Generall current of2 it, we ſhall find it divided between Light and Darkneſſe; Here a Clowd, and There a Sun-ſhine; Here a Soule Caſt downe, and There Erected: But if we looke upon theſe words onely, we ſhall find more clowd then ſun-ſhine. Like a picture, Commended rather by the ſha­dowing of it, then the Colours. For however the An­themes ſung in the upper Choyre in the Triumphant Church, have ever been of joy, yet in the Militant, Gods lower Choyre hath ever been of Mourners. Among us, he that Sets the ſaddeſt tunes, proves the beſt Muſician: For, where the ground-work is our Sin, the deſcant on it, muſt needs be our Sorrow.

As Saint Ambroſe therefore told his Auditory, That they ſhould not looke in his Sermon for matter to Ap­plaud, but Mourne with him; So, while I touch upon this ſtring of ſorrow, if any here ſenſible of their ſinne, or miſery, anſwer me with a ſigh, or GOD that ſpeaks to them By me with a Teare, it ſhall be my Joy, as S^t. Paul told the Corinthians, That I have made them ſorry.

But, if there be others that think the Text too melan­choly for this Place, that come rather to have their Eares pleaſed, then their Hearts wounded; To theſe, I muſt alter my Note, and ſay, as S^t. Hierome did to Sa­binian, Hoc ipſum plango, quod vos non plangitis, This makes me ſorry, that nothing can make you ſo.

But, as many that go to ſee dead bodies cut up, al­though they came not with the purpoſe to learne Ana­tomy, yet go away informed by that ſight, what kind of ſubſtance the Heart is, the forme and poſture of it; where abouts the Spleen lies, or where the Liver; ſo you, that came not hither purpoſely to heare of ſorrow, yet when you have looked a while on this Anatomy, when you have ſeen this Prophet how he diſſects himſelf,3 rifling his breaſt, and cutting up his entrals, you may chance to go away inſtructed too, (perhaps againſt your wills) what the Soule is, or what the Conſcience, what is that ſorrow of the one, or what that diſquiet of the o­ther; for theſe are the Leſſons that I am now to read you, Theſe are the Troubles that made David crie, Why art thou caſt downe, ô my ſoule, and why art thou diſquie­ted within me?

Athanaſius counſell'd his friend, that when any trouble ſhould fall upon him, he ſhould fall preſently to the reading of this Pſalme; For there was a way, (he thought) of curing by the like, as well as by the contrary: for 'tis obſerved indeed that when two inſtruments are tuned to the ſame Uniſon, if you touch the ſtrings of the one, the ſtrings of the other will move too, though untouch'd, if placed at a convenient diſtance: That therefore you may trie the ſame experiment in your ſelves, doe but ſet your affections for a time in the ſame key, in which theſe words were ſpoken, if really you feel none, Ima­gine ſome affliction laid upon you; when you have done ſo, that you may be the more fully moved, place your attention at a Convenient diſtance, looke narrowly on this Holy Prophet, obſerve how he retires himſelf, ſhuts out the world, calls his ſad ſoule, to as ſad a Reckon­ing, Quare tam triſtis? O my ſoule! thou that wert in­fuſed to give me Life, nay, ſaies Philo the Jew; A ſpark, a beame of the Divinity, thou, which ſhould'ſt be, to this darke body of Mine, as the Sun is to the Earth, in­lightning, quickning, cheering up my ſpirits, tell me, why art thou clowded? why art thou caſt downe?

This is the firſt Interpellation of the Soule, as Saint Am­broſe calls it; but the next is more abrupt, more trouble­ſome, cauſed rather by pangs, and gripes, and tumults,4 then by ſorrow; when the Sinner feeling thornes in his ſides, fire in his bones, warre in his Conſcience, can hold no longer from expoſtulating, Not onely why art thou caſt downe? But as Symachus renders it, Why art thou diſquieted, not within me onely, but againſt me?

You ſee then the two maine parts of my Text. The ſubject of the firſt, The Dejection of the Soule: the Ar­gument of the latter, the Diſquiet of the Conſcience. But becauſe there are other obſervations worth the looking after, We muſt firſt make a generall diſcovery of this Enquiry, Why art thou caſt down, O my Soule? &c.

The words imply rather a Soliloquie, then a Dialogue: yet Clemens of Alexandria calls it a Proſopopoeia, where one is made two by way of fiction. But however, there are not many at this Conference, Onely two, if two, Man and his Soule: for Tota domus duo ſunt: yet two ſometimes ſuch ſtrangers, that man may ſay of his ſoul, as the Epigrammatiſt did of his ſullen neighbour, In Urbe totâ, nemo tam propè, tam proculque nobis, None lives more neer me, nor none farther off: or as Myrrha com­plained, She could not enjoy her owne Father, becauſe he was too much her owne: Nunc quia jam Meus eſt, non eſt meus, ipſaque damno eſt mihi proximitas. So be­cauſe my Soule is mine, therefore it is not mine. No­thing ſo much as nearneſſe makes us ſtrangers. The truth is, that though Aquinas tels us, That 'tis one of the Prerogatives of the ſoule, to reflect upon her ſelfe; yet the ordinary Glaſſe we uſe, is rather Diaphonous then Reflexive; We looke not in it on our ſelves, but through it on others; which hath made ſome imagine the Soule to be of that nature as Moiſture is, which Phi­loſophy concludes to be bounded, facilè alienis terminis, difficilimè ſuis, with any thing eaſier then it ſelfe.

But to examine this farther. Why ſhould my ſoule and I become ſuch ſtrangers? Why like my two eyes? There is not an inch betweene them, yet one eye never ſees the other. It is as Saint Bernard confeſſeth of him­ſelfe, Nihil eſt corde meo fugacius. The heart is a kind of Runagate, harder to be fix'd then Quick-ſilver. So that, if I would I cannot find it out. Or is it, that few of us can look on our Wounded Soules, with that pati­ence, as on the ſoules of others; Like ſome Chyrur­gians, that (I have ſeene) faint at a ſcar of their owne, yet could unmoved either feare, or ſcarrifie, or launce the fleſh of others? Or (to looke no farther for it) Are we elſe in that ſtrait which Biſhop Anſelme was in his Meditations, when he cryes out, Gravis Anguſtia! Si me inſpicio, non tolero meipſum; ſi non, neſcio meipſum; ſi me conſidero, terret me facies mea; ſi non, fallit me damnatio mea: ſi me video, horror eſt; ſi non video, mors. What ſhall I dee? If I looke into my ſelfe, I ſhall not en­dure my ſelfe; if not, I ſhall not know my ſelfe: If I conſider what I am, the face of my ſins affrights me; if not, my damnation ſteales upon me: to ſee my ſelf is horror; not to ſee my ſelfe is death.

But, what ever the betraying motives are, the effect (I am ſure) is dangerous: For he that willingly puts out the Taper of his Conſcience, the Candle which God hath ſet there for him, to ſee himſelfe by, let him know, that he is paſſing from that voluntary darkneſſe to a worſe; that like an Offender on the Scaffold, he doth but blind his eyes to have his head cut off. But Saint Auguſtines Prayer ſhall goe along with me, Noverim me Domine, noverim te: Let me know my ſelfe, O God, ſo ſhall I know thee. In my Afflictions (what ever become of my other friends) let me have, at leaſt, my Soule to6 talk to. May Sinne never divorce us, nor the Devil ne­ver make us ſtrangers; That, when Thou ſhalt ſet me up for a marke for all thine Arrowes, when thou ſhalt fill me with bitterneſſe, and cover me with ſorrowes, I may not then feare to aske, Why art thou caſt downe O my ſoule, and why art thou, &c.

It was a Proverbiall ſpeech among the Jewes, when they would Characterize an extravagant Buſie-body, to ſay of him, Ben-Zoma nunquam eſt domi, This man is never at home: But God loves no ſuch ſtraglers; you ſhall heare him call to his people, by his Prophet Eſay, Come my people, enter into your chambers, ſhut the doores upon you. But Quaenam iſta cubicula, ſaith Saint Augaſt. niſi ipſa corda? What are theſe Chambers that God calls us to, but our owne hearts? What is it to ſhut the doores upon us, but to ſhut out the world? Yea but this is not all: I have heard of men that have barr'd, and lock'd, and bolted doores upon themſelves, and yet all that while have been playing with a feather, or with ſome thoughts as light. Therefore in the fourth Pſalme, God goes farther, In cubilibus veſtris compun­gimini, as the Old Tranſlation hath it: Or, as our Bibles render it, Examine, or Commune with your owne hearts in your chambers.

Yea, but this is not enough neither; for the foole could doe as much, he could commune with his owne ſoule, Soule, thou haſt much goods laid up for many yeeres, Live as eaſe therefore, eate, drinke, and be merry, take thy pleaſure. The ambitious man can doe as much, he can talke of ſuch an honour, ſuch a preferment, as if he now enjoy'd it.

But this is not the Argument we are to treat on, this is not to ſhut out the world, to have ſo much of the world7 within us. The Roman that Seneca ſpeaks of, had a better way then this, to keep his ſoule as cleane, as good Huſwives keep their Plate; for every night he look'd in­to it, wiping off the duſt, clearing the ſpots of it, exami­ning it on ſeverall Interrogatories, Quod malum hodie ſanaſti? cui vitio obſtitiſti? quâ parte melior es? Tell me, my ſoule, What ſin haſt thou this day conquer'd? what paſſion haſt thou powerfully reſiſted? how art thou improved ſince the morning? or how decayed? But when he had done this, when he had made this ac­compt with the day, O qualis ſomnus! quam altus! quam tranquillus! how ſweet a ſleep did ever follow! how in­nocent I how untroubled! What think you, beloved? Shall not this Morall Heathen riſe up in judgement a­gainſt them that lie downe in their beds, as the beaſt doth in the Litter, without any ſuch enquiry made up­on themſelves, nay without ſo much as bidding their owne ſoules Good night? Or ſhall he not riſe againſt them, who when God viſits them with croſſes, have a conceipt, they can drowne their griefe in exceſſe of Wine, or out-roare their Conſcience with loud Inſtru­ments, calling for company, when they ſhould call for Prayers; Buſineſſes, or ſport, or any thing, rather then their owne ſoules that troubled them? The Jews had a cuſtome indeed to give them Wine that were to ſuffer death, that they might leſſe feele their torments, (a cu­ſtome not yet out-dated in ſome Forraigne Parts, at Executions.) But it is obſervable, that when they of­fered our Saviour Wine at his Paſſion, he received it not; but when they gave him Vinegar, he took it: Not be­cauſe the Wine was bitter of the Myrrhe, as many of the Interpreters conceive; for Vinum Myrrhanum or Myrrhi­num, as Plantus calls it, may be ſweet Wine, for any8 thing I find. But the reaſon rather was, (if we beleeve Saint Chryſoſtome) that, that Wine being of a ſtupifying quality, the Sonne of God that took on him all our ſor­rowes, He would be ſenſible of every naile that pierc'd his hands, or feet, of every thorn that ran into his head: And was he ſenſible of his ſorrowes, and ſhall not we be ſenſible of our ſinnes, that cauſed thoſe ſorrows? Shall we ſtill deale with our ſouls, as Women when they grow old, deale with their Looking-glaſſes, turning the wrong ſide towards them? How comes it elſe, that we that have the courage to dare to ſin, have not the courage to look back on our ſouls when we have ſinned? Had we the leaſt wound in the Body, we ſhould not ſleep till we had ſeene it dreſt; But we have Soules all mangled over, ul­cerated with Luſt, impoſtumated with Malice, wounded with Temptations; yet as the Levite paſſed by the wounded man, ſo every man paſſeth by his owne ſoule too, not ſo much as asking bow it came hurt.

But how ſhall I move thee wretched and careleſſe fin­ner? Shall I tell thee, that as thy ſoule is an immortall ſub­ſtance, ſo the wages of thy ſinne is as Immortall as thy ſoule, an immortall and everlaſting death: That in the next life thou ſhalt ſee thy ſelfe with trembling, if in this life thou turneſt away thine eye in wilfulneſſe. But I for­beare; It is an argument that concerns us all ſo nearly, that I will not doubt, but it hath already made impreſ­ſion: That there are ſome here, that by this time, are be­ginning a Dialogue with their ſoules, that are reſolved to renew their acquaintance with them. You have a Royall Example for it, I am ſure, for you have no leſſe then a King that hath led the way; He it is that begins the accompt, commends the Inquiſition to you. If there­fore any trouble ariſe, away every one of you to his9 owne home, diſcuſſe examine, commune with thy ſelf, Why art thou caſt downe, O my ſoule, and why art thou diſ­quieted, &c.

Having done therefore with the examination in gene­rall, the Parties, the Manner, the Neceſſity; Our next work muſt be to ſurvey the firſt interrogatory, Why art thou caſt downe O my ſoule?

Sorrow is Sin's Eccho, which made the Prophet ſay, Peccata noſtra reſponderunt nobis, our ſins have anſwer'd, and (as it were) ecchoed to us: But as the Eccho an­ſwers not the voice ſo well, as where there are broken walls, and ruined buildings to return it: ſo neither doth Sorrow anſwer unto ſin, unleſſe reverberated by a broken, a ruined heart: For, I have read of a melancholy man, that could not believe he had an Head, till his Phyſitian having made a Leaden hat for him, with the weight of that, forced him to crie out, O his head! ſo there are men amongſt us, ſo loſt in ſenſuall pleaſure, ſo buried in their fleſh, that til miſchief, like ſheets of lead, be thrown upon them, to ſqueez out a Confeſſion, they have much adoe to remember, that they have a Soule within them. Not to go farther then this Prophet for an In­ſtance, when almoſt an whole yeare (as Cajetan com­putes the time) he lay aſleep in the dregs of his ſin, (his foule adultery with Uriahs Wife) where was his ſorrow? or where then was his Soule? well then might he crie out, O his Body, ſaith S. Auguſtine, but ô! his Soule was cleane forgotten; nay, they farther had a conceipt, that during all that time, Ipſa anima Davidis tranſierat in carnem, the very Soule of David was turned into fleſh. But no ſooner did God begin to ſhake his rod over him, to puniſh him with the raviſhing of his Daughter, the murder of one Son, the rebellion of another, but inſtantly10 we find him, mourning as a Turtle, chattering as a Crane, ſitting alone as a Sparrow on the houſe top. The Devil had given him a Fall, but he felt not that, Sin had given him many, but he felt not them neither; At laſt God under­took him, he at whoſe very word the mountains ſmoake; he threw him downe, and this fall onely made him feel all the reſt; This onely made him crie, Why art thou caſt downe, O my ſoule?

It is memorable in Job, that upon the ill news that was brought him, inſtantly ſurrexit Job, ſaith the Text, when one would have thought he would rather have ſwounded and fallen downe for grief, then he aroſe. But we find our Prophet in another kind of poſture, dejected, proſtrate, caſt downe in his more noble part, yet S. Hie­rome goes not ſo far, who tranſlates it according to Symmachus, Why art thou bowed downe? Affliction is a burden; true, but though it bow us, yet we may ſtand un­der it; But ſin is a burden that goes beyond the extent of that word, that doth not onely bow, but caſt us downe, which makes Saint Chriſoſtome ſay, Nihil eſt grave niſi peccatum, that nothing is heavy but ſin; nothing ſo hea­vy, as to caſt us down, not poverty, not ſickneſſe, not diſgrace, nor any thing, that the wit of ſullenneſſe, or melancholy can deviſe. As for ſuch afflictions as thoſe, Know you not, ſaith Saint Paul, that all ye that are bap­tized into Jeſus Chriſt, are baptized into his death, that is, ſaith Saint Hierome, as into his faith, ſo into his ſuf­ferings too: ſo that it is part of our engagement in our Baptiſme. Beſides, think of it well, and what is there in that Cup of bitterneſſe, which thy Saviour hath not ta­ſted, for prior bibit Medicus, ut bibere non dubitaret aegro­tus, ſaith Saint Auguſtine: He began to thee in all, to encourage thee to follow him; nay, to thy comfort,11 Ambroſe adds a degree farther, Non tam haec ante te quam pro te ſuſtulit, His ſufferings were not onely before thee, but for thee. Wouldſt not thou think him a ſtrange Phyſitian, who when he came to cure thee of a Feaver, ſhould himſelf drink up the Potion? Yet thus did thy Saviour, Thine was the ſickneſſe, but he that was not ſick he kept the diet: Thine the feaver, but it was he that ſweat: Thine the Pluriſie, but 'twas he that bled for it: Who then can conſider this without erecting his de­jected Soule? at leaſt, without a ſerious inquiſition in­to the reaſon of this melancholy? For, be not decei­ved, God is not alwaies taken with the head that hangs downe, with the folded armes, or with the melting eyes: For inſtance, when God told Ezekiel, that he would ſhew him a ſtrange abomination, what was it but, Behold there ſate a Woman weeping for Adonis? for Tammuz faith our tranſlation, for ſo (according to Saint Hierome) the Hebrews named the Adonis of the Heathen, for as Venus mourned for her loſt Adonis, ſo ſinners for their plea­ſures, when they are either ſnatch'd from them, or out­dated. The exhauſted Adulterer, whoſe luſt outlives his body, that mournes not for having offended God, but for not being able to offend him longer, he is one of thoſe plangentes. He againe that hath his wealth taken from him, the occaſion of his ryot, that is temperate only becauſe he is needy, and ſorry, becauſe he is either; he is another Mourner of the train: ſo that you ſee, there may be a kind of wantonneſſe in Grief, an effeminateneſſe of the mind, that melts upon all occaſions.

But conſider I beſeech you the value of the Soule, that is thus caſt downe, That your Sights are the breath of Heaven, your Teares are the wine of Angels, your Groanes the Eccho's of the Holy Ghoſt, that there­fore to imploy this ſacred Treaſure in prophane expen­ces,12 to lay it out on the trifles of this world, is a Sin no leſſe then Sacriledge; Be therefore more thrifty of your ſorrow, for the time may come, when you ſhall want thoſe ſighs, which now ſo impertinently you throw a­way; nay, ſaith Bonaeventure, ſhould the Devil ſet thee on that Pinacle where he had our Saviour, ſhould he of­fer thee all the Kingdomes of the whole world for one Teare, to be ſpent in his ſervice, O doe not give it him, for on thy death-bed, for that One Teare, perhaps thou wouldſt give a thouſand worlds.

Think of this, ye that feel the heavineſſe of your Soul, think of it ye that doe not, for ye may feel it. Know there is a ſorrow that worketh repentance, not to be repented of; Know againe there is a ſorrow that worketh Death. Re­member there were tears, that got ſinfull Mary heaven, Remember again, there were tears that could get Eſau nothing. For as in Martyrdome it is not the ſword, the boyling lead, or fire, not what we ſuffer, but why, that makes us Sufferers: ſo in our ſorrows, it is not how deep they wound, but why, that juſtifies them. Let every one therefore, that hath a troubled heart, aske his ſoule the why, Why art thou caſt downe? Is it not for thine owne ſins, or for the ſins of others? take either of them, thine eyes will have a large field to water; Is it for that thou haſt been a Child of wrath, a Servant of the Devil? Is it for that thou art a Candle ſet in the wind, blowne at by ſeverall temptations? or is it for that thou wouldſt be freed from them? Woe is me that I dwell in Meſech, that I dwell ſo long in the tents of Kedar. Art thou trou­bled, as Saint Auguſtine was, when he read that the way to Heaven was narrow, the number ſmall, that travail'd thither? Or haſt thou put on Saint Bernards reſolution, who had made a compact with his Soule, never to joy13 till he had heard his Saviour call him, Come thou bleſſed, nor never to leave ſorrowing till he had eſcaped the bit­ter ſentence, Goe ye curſed? If any of theſe be the Why, the ground of thy ſorrowes, if ſuch thoughts have caſt thee downe; know, that thy Saviour hath already bleſ­ſed thee; For, Bleſſed are they that mourne. The Angels are thy ſervants, they gather thy teares; God is thy Treaſurer, he layes them up in his bottle; the holy Ghoſt is thy Comforter, he will not leave thee. Feare not then to be thus caſt downe, feare not to be thus diſquieted within thee. Thus having ſail'd through one ſea of bit­terneſſe, the Dejection of the ſoule, we are againe to ſet forth, but in a roughet ſtorme, the Trouble of the Con­ſcience, implyed in the next Interrogatory, Why art thou diſquieted within me?

The Conſcience is in the ſoule, but none can tell well, whether a portion of it; none can tell you what, whe­ther it be an Habit, or an Act, or both; whether in the Underſtanding, or in the Will, or in both; whether Pra­cticall, or Theoricall, or mixt of both, is ſtill diſputed. But Saint Auguſtine gives me the truer ſatisfaction, Sen­tio, quam non Intelligo, I feele thee Conſcience, though I doe not underſtand thee. For as they whom States­men employ as Spies, though they mingle with all com­panies, yet keep themſelves concealed: ſo the Conſci­ence which is Gods Informer, ſent by him, as a Spie in­to the Soule, mixeth with all our thoughts, as well as actions; and though we know not what the Conſcience is, yet what We are, our Conſcience knowes full well. Yet as I have ſeene Lines drawne upon a wall with a coale, ſo far reſemble a face, as he that look'd on it at leaſt might gueſſe at it: ſo the Ancient Fathers have ventur'd at ſome Expreſſions of this ſubtile, ſpirituall thing, the Conſcience.

Firſt, if we look to the Nature of it, they tell us, that Conſcience is an habit of the ſoule, not acquir'd, but crea­ted with it: That it is an Inviſible Inſtinct, or a Practi­call Syllogiſme, by which we conclude what we ſhould doe, and what not. If we look farther for the uſe, for the Office of it, Origen calls it Paedagogum Animae, the buſie Paedant of the Soul, varying as our actions vary, now diſcouraging, ſtraight heartning, approving here, re­proving there; Or, if this be not enough, Tertullian ſhall tell you, that it is Praejudicium Judicii, a kinde of Antidated day of Judgement, a domeſtick Doomes-day, or as Saint Baſil tells you, that it is Naturale Judicatorium, the very Conſiſtory of the Law of Nature. A ſtrange Court, where (almoſt againſt nature) the Plaintife, the Defendant, the Judge, the Witneſſe, all is but one. For, — Me mihi perſide prodit, may every man ſay, the Con­ſcience againſt the Conſcience, bringing in Evidence; producing the Law, proving the Forfeit, urging the Pe­nalty, giving the Sentence, beginning the Puniſhment.

But art thou ſenſible of this, O my ſoule? that thou carryeſt thine Accuſer, thy Judge, nay thy Hell, or if not Hell, I am ſure, one of the paines of it, about thee in thine owne boſome? Doſt thou know withall, that it is a Volume which no Jeſuite can corrupt, nor no In­dex Expurgatorius ſtrike a Letter out of it; That it is the onely Book of all thy Library that ſhall goe along with thee into the world to come? Art thou verily per­ſwaded, Saint John hath not deceived thee, when he tels thee, in the 20. of the Revel. That on that terrible day of Judgement this Booke of thine (though now never ſo cloſe ſhut up) ſhall be then throwne open in the ſight of God, in the view of all his Angels: Doſt thou not reckon of theſe things, onely as bug-bears to affrighten15 thee? But art thou perſwaded thus in earneſt? If ſo, O my ſoul, wert thou cut out of the rock, or marble, yet theſe are thoughts would make a way into thee, wert thou as rugged as the Alpes, yet this vineger would cat into thee, no wonder then, that ſuch a Meditation caſt thee down, or that thou art diſquieted with­in me.

They that call the Conſcience ſcintillam Animae, the ſpark of the Soule, make an enquiry, whether this ſpark may be put out or no? But the generall verdict goes, it never was extin­guiſhed, no not in Cain, nor Judas, it never will be not in the moſt deſperate Sinner; for caſt this ſparke into a ſea of thy ſinnes, yet it will live there even in that ſea: ſcatter it abroad even in the wilderneſſe of thy thoughts, or cover it with the multitude of thine employments, yet it will live there too: no Cord can ſtrangle it, nor no hand ſtifle it. Perire nec ſine Te, nec Tecum poteſt, It can neither die with thee, nor without the: yet as the pulſe doth not alwaies beat alike, but ſome­times is more violent, ſometimes more remiſſe; ſo neither is this ſpirituall pulſe, the Conſcience, alwaies in equall agitati­on, ſomtimes it beats, ſomtimes it intermits, but ſtraight againe is recurrent. If it come not ſo faſt, as a Quotidian Ague, yet look for it as a Tertian, or if it forbear thee longer, imagine it a Quartan, or if it obſerve no time, prepare for it in every piece of Time, for theſe fits will come again, there is no avoiding them.

Saint Bernard, a tried Phyſitian of the Conſcience, diſtin­guiſheth four ſeverall habitudes, or ſtates of it; the firſt, Tran­quilla, non Bona, a quiet Conſcience, but not a Good: the ſe­cond, Bona, non Tranquilla, a good Conſcience, but not a Quiet: the third, nec Bona, nec Tranquilla, neither Good, nor Quiet: the laſt, tam Bona, quam Tranquilla, as well Good, as Quiet. The firſt, ſear'd; the ſecond, wounded; the third, deſperate; the fourth, happy. They that are in the firſt ſtate, go the way of Naball, who when he had ſlept, (ſaith the Text)16 found his heart dead within him. They that are in the ſecond, go the way of David, ſtill bleſſed with Gods protection, yet ſtill complaining of his Anger. They that are in the third, go the way of Caine, with their backs againſt the Sun, not ſo much are with a look to Heaven. They that are in the laſt ſtate, go the way of Saints, with joy above their fellows. Give me leave therefore of theſe foure waies, to make a ſhort deſcription, which when I have done, let every one of you tell his owne ſoule in which of theſe paths, he now is travelling.

Firſt, to the moſt beaten way, Tranquilla, non Bona, the quiet Conſcience, not the Good. I may ſafely ſay, Hell gets more Paſſengers by this path, then by any; which makes the Devil ſo carefull in the dreſſing it, that he wil not leave a ſmall pible in the way, nor an uneven mole-hill to offend thee, as if he had bin once one of thoſe Angels to whom God had given the Charge that thou ſhouldſt not hurt thy foot againſt a ſtone. If thou chance to travell on the way, he ſings to thee; if to ſleep, he ſits by thee, whiſpering as ſoftly, as the Spouſe to the Daughters of Jeruſalem, (though to a far worſe end) I charge you, O you Tormentors of the heart, that you ſtir not up, nor a­wake my beloved untill he pleaſe. Let there be no outcrie of ſorrow, no noiſe of feare, no alarme ſounded of Repentance, but Peace, peace, Lie downe, lie downe in peace, with thy warme ſins cleaving to thy boſome. This is the opium, theſe are the charmes, by which ſo many ſouls are laid aſleep, but if ever ſleep were the true image of death, this is the ſleep. Saint Hierome knew the danger of it, when he made that paſ­ſionate exclamation, O qualis Tempeſtas iſta Tranquillitas! what ſtorme ſo cruell as this calme? what rock, what ſhip­wrack? None; Let thy winds rage O God, and the ſea roare, let the waves of thy puniſhments like Mountains fall upon me, ſplit and teare, and ſink this veſſel of my fleſh, rather then ever to let my ſoule be thus becalmed.

We read, that the Grecians, had an Hill ſo high above that17 region of the ayre where Winds are bred, that he that had drawn his name in the aſhes of the laſt years ſacrifices, might the next year at his return find the ſame Letters un-blowne a­way: but if any ones heart here be ſo calmly ſeated, that the Devil may at this inſtant read in the ſluttiſh duſt of it, the ſins which long agoe he wrote there, if no thunder have clear'd the ayre about thee, nor no wind ſcatter'd thoſe guilty Cha­racters; if all be huſh'd, ſilence, and reſt, and ſleep about the Conſcience, like the Country of the Sibarites, where not ſo much as a Cock, the Remembrancer of Saint Peter, was left alive to trouble them; If ſo, know then, that as long as this ſoule is thus benum'd, thy God hath given thee over, he will not ſo much as favour thee with a frown, or bleſſe thee with his anger. It may be true that perhaps thou doeſt not feel thy miſery, but therefore the more wretched, in Saint Auguſtine's judgment, becauſe thou doeſt not feel it; for, Quid miſerius miſero, non miſerante ſeipſum? Cleopatra that had not a mind to feel her death, poyſon'd her ſelf with Aſpes, that ſhe might die ſleeping; and juſt ſo is thy ſtate, thy habituall cuſtomary ſinnes, thoſe which thou drinkeſt down like water, as if they were no ſins, theſe are the Aſpes that doe benumme thy ſoule, as cold poyſon doth the brain, that caſts thee into a ſleep ne­ver to be awakened till the Worm that never ſleeps awake thee.

But, ſhall I leave thee ſo? As the quartan Ague is call'd op­probrium Medici, the ſhame of the Phyſitian; ſo this dead ſleep, this Lethargie of ſinne may be opprobrium Theologi, the ſhame of the Divine. I confeſſe, I never liked thoſe that put ſo much Vineger in their Sermons, as if their onely errand were, to eate out the hearts of their hearers; ſo much of the Law, as if the Goſpel were not yet given; for though bitter pills may be good phyſick, yet he that ſhould let his Patient eate no other meat then pills, would prove a mad Phyſitian: yet for all this, ſomething of bitterneſſe doth well, there muſt18 be a ſearching of the wound, before there be a skinning. Feare not then thy remedy O my ſoule, but if thou findeſt this hard­neſſe, this ſtupidity, this ſenſleſneſſe, within thee, get thee to Mount Ebal, ſee the Curſes that were given there, if they wound not deep enough, adde to theſe ſome few ſerious thoughts of Hell, of the utter darkneſſe, the eternall fire, the everlaſting Worme. But when thou haſt done this, doe not dwell there, but be ſure to look upward again to thy Saviour, Downe with thy knees, though thy heart be ſtiffe, up with thy Hands, at leaſt, to Heaven, though thy ſoule ſtir not; hope in thy God againſt hope, as Abraham did: get out but an eja­culation, a piece, a word of prayer, ever cleaving to the Rock of thy ſalvation Chriſt Jeſus, till from the clefts of that bleſ­ſed Rock, thou hear his Mercy anſwer thee; for ſo in ſtead of a quiet conſcience, but not a good, God will give thee a good Conſcience though for a time unquiet, turning thee out of this ſleepy way of Nabal, into the ſighing way of David, which gives us the next proſpect of the Conſcience. Bona, non Tran­quilla, a Good, but not a Quiet.

It is a Maxime in Philoſophy, that no Element is heavy in the proper place of it; For ſhould we dive into the bottome of the Sea, we ſhould not feele the weight of all thoſe waves that roul upon us; but out of the Ocean, to carry a ſmall pit­cher of that water, would prove a burden. The like experi­ment we may finde in our ſelves, as long as we are in the Proper place, the Element of ſinne, we do not feele the weight of it, but once being out, the eaſieſt ſinne ſeemes heavy: We then ſtart at a ſinfull thought, who before would have leaped confidently from that thought, into the action. Or have we gone farther then thought? have we actually offended? Inſtant­ly our hearts ſtrike us, we complain, we grieve, we melt into repentance, our very Souls are diſquieted within us. But let us take heede we do not alwayes meaſure Gods anger, by this diſquiet; for the diſquiet may be the meanes to take away his19 anger. Tis true, that there are ſinnes of infirmity that will ſtill creep upon us; there will be a continuall fight of the fleſh againſt the ſpirit: But yet, if with an unfeigned reluctancy we can then but cry, either as this Prophet did: O that I had the wings of a dove, that I might flie away, and be at reſt: or as the Apoſtle did: O wretched man that I am, who ſhall deliver me from the body of this death? aſſure your ſelf you ſhall not die, Sin may hang upon you, as the Viper did upon S. Pauls hand, but poyſon you it cannot: It may bring a damnability (as the Schoole ſpeakes) but not damnation.

Yea, but this is not all; Doth not God ſometimes would deep the hearts of them he loves? Doth he not leave them in the ſenſe of his bitter wrath? Hath not this Saint of his felt as much, when he was enforced to cry, Will God caſt me off for ever? will he be favourable no more? is his mercy clean gone, doth his promiſe faile for evermore? hath he forgotten to be gra­tious? hath he ſhut up his tender mercy in diſpleaſure? Nay, hath not the Son of God felt as much? Were they not his words upon the Croſſe, My God, my God, why haſt thou forſaken me? What then can we vile wormes expect? He that could hide his face from thee, O bleſſed Saviour, how ſhall he ever turne againe his face to us? Yea but ſaith Saint Bernard, that turning away his face from him, is become the onely cauſe that he will look on thee. Since that time, ſaith that Father, if God troubles thee, it is, that thou ſhouldſt pray to him; if he flyes from thee, it is that thou ſhouldſt find him. Origen knew as much, when he ſaid, Diſcedit Deus meus, ſed expecto iterum; ve­nit, ſed elabitur; elapſus redit, ſed nondum teneo. My God for­ſakes me often, but ſtill I wait for him againe; he comes, but againe he vaniſheth; and againe I have him, though I cannot hold him. Saint Cyprian knew as much, when he likened the acceſſes and receſſes, theſe commings and goings of God, to the quick flaſhes of Lightning; the entrance and departure20 ſudden: for Heavineſſe may endure for a night, but as ſure as the morning Sun ſhall ariſe, ſo ſure ſhall thy morning joy, for joy comes in the morning. And ſo from this way we paſſe unto the third, a way rather to look on, then walk in: for this is Cains way, nec Bona, nec Tranquilla, a Conſcience that is neither Good nor Quiet.