The unbeliever should press his soul with the strong obligation we are under to believe

           Fifth Direction.  Press and urge thy soul home with that strong obligation that lies upon thee, a poor humbled sinner, to believe.  Possibly, God hath [so] shamed thee in the sight of thy own con­science for other sins, that thou loathest the very thought of them, and durst as well run thy head into the fire as allow thyself in them.  If thou shouldst wrong thy neighbour in his person, name, or estate, it would kindle a fire in thy conscience and make thee afraid to look within doors—converse, I mean, with thy own thoughts—till thou hadst repented of it.  And is faith the only indifferent thing—a business left to thy own choice, whether thou wilt be so good to thy­self as to believe or no?  Truly, the tenderness of con­science which many humbled sinners express in trem­bling at, and smiting them for, other sins, compared with the little sense they express for this of unbelief, speaks as if they thought that they offended God in them, and only wronged themselves by this their un­belief.  O how greatly thou art deceived and abused in thy own thoughts if these be thy apprehensions!—yea, if thou dost not think thou dishon ourest God and of­fendest him in a more transcendent manner by thy unbelief than by all thy other sins!

           What Bernard saith of a hard heart I may say of an unbelieving heart, illud cor verè durum, quod non trepidat, ad nomen cordis duri—that is a hard heart indeed, saith he, that trembles not at the name of a hard heart.  And that is an unbelieving heart indeed, that trembles not at the name of an unbelieving heart. Call thyself, O man, to the bar, and hear what thy soul hath to say for its not closing with Christ, and thou shalt then see what an unreasonable reason it will give.  It must be either because thou likest not the terms, or else because thou fearest they are too good ever to be performed.  Is the first of these thy reason, because thou likest not the terms on which Christ is offered?  Possibly, might thou but have had Christ and thy lusts with him, thou wouldst have been better pleased.  But to part with thy lusts to gain a Christ, this thou thinkest is ‘a hard saying.’  It is strange this should offend thee, which God could not have left out and truly loved us.  Thou art a sot, a devil, if thou dost not think thy sins the worst piece of thy misery.  O what is Christ worth in thy thoughts if thou darest not trust him to recompense the loss of a base lust?  That man values Gold little who thinks he shall pay too dear for it by throwing the dirt or dung out of his hands, with which they are full, to receive it.  Well sinner, the terms for having Christ, it seems, content thee not.  Ask then thy soul how the terms on which thou holdest thy lusts like thee?  Canst thou, doth thou think, better spare the blissful presence of God and Christ in hell, where thy lusts, if thou hold­est of this mind, are sure enough to leave thee at last, than the company of thy lusts in heaven, whither faith in Christ would as certainly bring thee?  Then take thy choice, and leave it for thy work in hell to repent of thy folly.  But I should think, if thou wouldst be so faithful to thyself as to state the case right, and then seriously acquaint thy soul with it, giving it time and leisure to dwell upon it daily, that thou wouldst soon come to have better thoughts of Christ, and worse of thy sins.

           But may be this is not the reason that keeps thee from believing.  The terms thou likest highly, but it cannot enter into thy heart to think that ever such great things as are promised should be performed to such a one as thou art.  Well, of the two, it is better the rub in thy way to Christ should lie in the difficulty that thy understanding finds to conceive, than in the obstinacy of thy will not to receive, what God in Christ offers.  But this must be removed also.  And therefore fall to work with thy soul, and labour to bring it to reason in this particular, for, indeed, nothing can be more irrational than to object against the reality and certainty of God's promises.  Two things well wrought on thy soul, would satisfy thy doubts and scatter thy fears as to this.

           First.  Labour to get a right notion of God in thy understanding, and it will not appear strange at all that a great God should do so great things for poor sinners.  If a beggar should promise you a thousand pounds a year, you might indeed slight it, and ask where should he have it?  But if a prince should promise more, you would listen after it, because he hath an estate that bears proportion to his promise. God is not engaged for more by promise than infinite mercy, power, and faithfulness can see discharged.  'Be still, and know that I am God,’ Ps. 46:10.  Of this psalm Luther would say, in times of great confusion in the church, ‘Let us sing the six and fortieth psalm, in spite of the devil and all his instruments.’  And this clause of it, poor humbled soul, thou mayest sing with comfort, in spite of Satan and sin also, ‘Be still, O my soul, and know that he who offers thee mercy is God.’ ‘They that know his name will trust in him.’

           Second.  Peruse well the securities which this great God gives for the performance of his promise to the believer, and thou shalt find them so many and great—though his bare word deserves to be taken for more than our souls are worth—that if we had the most slippery cheating companion in the world under such bonds for the paying of a sum of money, we should think it were sure enough; and wilt thou not rest satisfied when the true and faithful God puts himself under these for thy security, whose truth is so immutable that it is more possible for light to send forth darkness, than it is that a lie should come out of his blessed lips?