portunity, which appears in the elegant gradation of the words: Hear my prayer, my words; if not that, yet, Give ear to my cry, which is louder; and if that prevail not, yet, Hold not thy peace at my tears, which is the loudest of all; so David, elsewhere, calls it the voice of his weeping. Though this gift of tears doth often flow from the natural temper, yet where that temper becomes spiritual and religious, it proves a singular instrument of repentance and prayer. But yet there may be a very great height of piety and godly affections where tears are wanting; yea, this defect may proceed from a singular sublimity of religion in their souls, being acted more in the upper region of the intellectual mind, and so not communicating much with the lower affections, or these expressions of them. We are not to judge of our spiritual proficiency by the gift of prayer, for the heart may be very spiritually affected, where there is no readiness or volubility in words. The sure measure of our growth is to be had from our holiness, which stands in this, to see how our hearts are crucified to the world, and how we are possessed with the love of God, and with ardent longings after union with him, and dwelling in his presence hereafter, and in being conformed to his will here.

It is the greatest folly imaginable in some to shed tears for their sins, and within a little while to return to them again; they think there is some kind of absolution in this way of easy venting themselves by tears in prayer, and when a new temptation returns, they easily yield to it. This is lightness and foolishness, like the inconstancy of a woman who entertains new lovers in her mourning apparel, having experienced much sorrow and grief for her former husband.

Now, fervency in prayer, hath in it, 1. Attentiveness of mind. If the mind be not present, it is impossible that much of the heart and affections can be there. How shall we think that God will hear those prayers which we do not hear ourselves? And shall we think them worthy of his acceptance, that are not worthy of our thoughts? Yet we should not leave off prayer because of the wanderings of our hearts in it, for that is the very design of the devil, but still we must continue in it, and amend this fault as much as we can; by remembering, in the entry, with whom we have to do, by freeing our minds as much as may be from the entanglements and multiplicity of business, and

by laboring to have our thoughts often in heaven. For where the heart is much, it will be ever and anon turning thitherward, without any difficulty.

2. Fervency of prayer hath in it an intense bent of the affections to have our desires as ardent as can be for the pardon of sin, for the mortifying of our lusts and passions, for the delivering us from the love of ourselves and this present world; and for such spiritual things to pray often, and to follow it with importunity. That is to pray fervently, never to rest till an an

swer come.

The third qualification is faith. He who comes to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of all that diligently seek him. And certainly, as he that comes to God must believe this, so he that believes this, can not but come to God; and if he be not presently answered, he that believes makes no haste-he resolves patiently to wait for the Lord, and to go to no other.

Surely, there is much to be had in prayer. All good may be obtained, and all evil averted by it; yea, it is a reward to itself. It is the greatest dignity of the creature, to be adınitted to converse with God. And certainly, the soul that is much in prayer, grows in purity, and is raised by prayer to the despising of all those things that the world admires and is in love with, and by a wonderful way is conformed to the likeness of God.

For I am a stranger with thee, and a sojourner, as all my fathers were. In the law, God recommends strangers to the care and compassion of his people; now David returns the argument to him, to persuade him to deal kindly with him: “For I am a stranger with thee, that is, before thee-in this world wherein thou hast appointed me to sojourn a few days. And I betake myself to thy protection in this strange country; I seek shelter under the shadow of thy wings; therefore have compassion upon me." He that looks on himself as a stranger, and is sensible of the darkness both around about him in this wilderness, and also within him, will often put up that request with David, I am a stranger on this earth; hide not thy commandments from me-do not let me lose my way. And as we should use this argument to persuade God to look down upon us, so, likewise, to persuade ourselves to send up our hearts and desires to him. What is the joy of our life, but the thoughts of that other life, or home, before us? And, certainly, he that lives much in these thoughts,

set him where you will here, he is not much pleased or displeased; but if his Father call him home, that word gives him

his heart's desire.

NOVEMBER 15.

BAXTER.

A prudent man foreseeth the evil, and hideth himself.—Prov. xxii. 3.

FAITH is the wisdom of the soul; and unbelief and sensuality are its blindess, folly, and brutishness. How short is the knowledge of the wisest unbelievers! They know not much of what is past, (and less they would know if histories were not of more credit with them than the word of God ;) but alas! how little do they know of what is to come! Sense tells them where they are, and what they are now doing; but it tells them not where they shall be to-morrow. But faith can tell a true believer, what will be when this world is ended, and where he shall live to all eternity, and what he shall be doing, and what thoughts he shall be thinking, what affections shall be the temper and employment of his soul; what he shall see, and feel, and enjoy; and with what company he shall converse for ever. If the pretenders to astrological prediction could foretell the changes to men's lives, and the time and manner of their deaths, what resort would be to them! and how wise would they be esteemed! But what is all this to the infallible predictions of the all-knowing God, that hath given us a prospect into another world, and showed us what will be for ever, more certainly than you may know what a day may bring forth?

So necessary is foreknowledge in the common affairs of men, that without it the actions of the world would be but mad, tumultuary confusion. What would you think of that man's understanding, or how would you value the employments of his life, that looked no further in all his actions, than the present hour, and saw no more than the things in hand? What would you call him that so spends the day, as one that knoweth not there will be any night; and so passed the night, as one that looked not for the day? that knew not in the spring there would be a harvest, or in the summer that there would be any winter, or in youth that there would be age or death? The silly brutes that have no foreknowledge, are furnished with an instinct that

supplieth the want of it, and also have the help of man's foreknowledge, or else their kind would be soon extinct. The bees labor in summer, as if they foresaw the winter's need. And can that man be wise, that knoweth not his everlasting state? Indeed, he that knoweth not what is to come, hath no true knowl edge of what is present; for the worth and use of present things, is only in their respects to things eternal; and there is no means, where there is no end. What wisdom then remains in unbelievers, when all their lives are misemployed, because they know not the end of life; and when all their actions are utterly debased, by the baseness of those brutish ends to which they serve and are referred? Nothing is truly wise or honorable that is done for small and worthless things. To draw a curious picture of a shadow, or elegantly write the history of a dream, may be an ingenious kind of folly; but the end will not allow it the name of wisdom and such are all the actions of the world, (though called heroic, valiant, and honorable,) that aim at transitory trifles, and tend not to the everlasting end. A bird can neatly build her nest, but is not therefore counted wise. How contrary is the judgment of the world to Christ's! when the same description that he giveth of a fool, is it that worldlings give of a wise and happy man: "One that layeth up riches for himself, and is not rich towards God." Will you persuade us that the man is wise, that can climb a little higher than his neighbors, that he may have the greater fall? that is attended in his way to hell with greater pomp than others? that can sin more syllogistically and rhetorically than the vulgar; and more prudently and gravely run into damnation; and can learnedly defend his madness, and prove that he is safe at the brink of hell? Would you persuade us that he is wise, that contradicts the God and rule of wisdom, and that parts with heaven for a few merry hours, and hath not wit to save his soul? When they see the end, and are arrived at eternity, let them boast of their wisdom as they find cause: we will take them then for more competent judges. Let the eternal God be the portion of my soul; let heaven be my inheritance and hope; let Christ be my Head and the promise of my security; let faith be my wisdom, and love be my very heart and will, and patient, persevering obedience of my life; and then I can spare the wisdom of the world, because I can spare the trifles that it secks.

For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.-Phil. i. 21.

had they power But as long as me, still I live,

IN dying, he means, I shall not have perished, for I have my life in myself: then would they truly slay me, through this fear to cast faith out of my soul. Christ is with me, even though death overtake and in this present life, not this, but Christ is my life. Since, then, not even in the present life is it so, but the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith; so I say in that state also, I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me. Such ought a Christian to be! I live not, he says, the common life. How livest thou then, O blessed Paul? Dost thou not see the sun, dost thou not breathe the common air? art thou not nourished with the same food as others? dost thou not tread the earth as we ? needest thou not sleep, nor clothing, nor shoes? what meanest thou by, I live not? how dost thou not live? Why boastest thou thyself? No boasting is here. For if indeed the fact did not witness to him, a man might with some show call it boasting; but if facts do witness, how is boasting here? Let us then learn how he lives not, for he himself says in another place, I am crucified to the world, and the world to me. Hear then how he says, I no longer live. And here again, to me to live is Christ.

The word life is much significant, beloved, that is, it showeth many things, as also the word death. There is this life of the body, and there is the life of sin, as he himelf elsewhere says, But if we are dead to sin, how shall we any longer live therein? It is then possible to live the life of sin. Attend diligently, I entreat you, lest my labor be vain. There is a life eternal, immortal, heavenly, after this. For our conversation is in heaven. There is the life of the body, whereof he speaks, through him we live, and move, and have our being. He does not then deny that he lives the natural life, but that of sin, which all men live; and rightly so, for how does he live this life, who desires not the present life? He who is hastening to another, how does he live this life? He who despises death, how does he live this life? He who desires naught of the things here, how does he live it? For as one made of adamant, though he were struck a thousand blows, would never attend to it, no more would Paul. And I