INSTANCES wherein the Christian should live up to his hopes 2/4

           Thou hast not, Christian, a weightier argument to knock down all temptations to sin, nor a more honourable way to get the victory of them, than by setting thy hope to grapple with them.  I confess it is well when this enemy is worsted, what hand soever he falls by; though it be the fear of hell that clubs it down in the lives of men, it is better than not at all.  Yet I must tell you, that as the Israelites’ state was poor and servile, when they were fain to borrow the Philis­tines’ grindstone ‘to sharpen every man his axe and mattock,’ I Sam. 13:20, so it speaks the Christian to be in no very good state as to his spiritual affairs when he is fain to use the wicked man’s argument to keep him from sinning, and nothing will set an edge upon his spirit to cut through temptation, but what the un­circumcised world themselves use. Thou, Christian, art of a nobler spirit, and more refined temper than these, I trow. And as we have a finer stone to sharpen a razor with that we use for a butcher’s knife, so, certainly, a more spiritual and ingenuous argument would become thee better, to make thee keen and sharp against sin, than what prevails with the worst of men sometimes to forbear at least acting their wicked­ness.  Go thou, Christian, to thy hope, and while the slavish sinner scares and terrifies himself from his lust with fire and brimstone, do thou shame thyself out of all acquaintance with it from the great and glorious things thou lookest for in heaven. Is it a sin of sensual pleasure that assaults thy castle?  Say then to thy soul, ‘Shall I play the beast on earth, that hope to be such a glorious creature in heaven?’  Shall that head be found now in a Delilah’s lap, that ere long I hope to be laid in Abraham’s bosom?  Can I now yield to defile that body with lust and vomit, which is the gar­ment my soul hopes to wear in heaven?  O no! Avaunt, Satan!  I will have nothing to do with thee, or anything that will make me unmeet for that blessed place and holy state I wait for.

           Third Instance.  Let thy hope of heaven moder­ate thy affections to earth.  ‘Be sober, and hope,’ saith the apostle, I Peter 1:13.  You that look for so much in another world, may very well be content with a little in this.  Nothing more unbecomes a heavenly hope than an earthly heart.  You would think it an un­seemly thing for some rich man, that hath a vast es­tate, among the poor gleaners at harvest‑time, as busy to pick up the ears of corn that are left in the field, as the most miserable beggar in the company.  O how all the world would cry shame of such a sordid‑spirited man!  Well, Christian, be not angry if I tell thee that thou dost a more shameful thing to thyself by far; if thou, that pretendest to hope for heaven, beest as eager in the pursuit of this world's trash as the poor carnal wretch is who expects no portion but what God hath left him to pick up in the field of this world. Certainly thy hope is either false, or at best very little. The higher that the summer sun mounts above the horizon, the more force it bears both to clear and also heat the air with his beams.  And if thy hope of salva­tion were advanced to any ordinary pitch and height in thy soul, it would scatter these inordinate desires after this world with which now thou art choked up, and put thee into a greater heat of affection after heaven, than now thou feelest to things below.

           I remember Augustine, relating what sweet dis­course passed once between his mother and himself concerning the joys of heaven, breaks forth into this apostrophe, ‘Lord, thou knowest quàm viluit nobis in illo die hic mundus—how vile and contemptible this sorry world was in our eye in that day when our hearts were warmed with some sweet discourse of that bless­ed place.’  And I doubt not but every gracious person finds the same by himself; the nearer to heaven he gets in his hopes, the further he goes from earth in his desires. When he stands upon these battlements of heaven, he can look down upon this dunghill world as a nigrum nihil, a little dust‑heap next to nothing.  It is Scultetus’ observation, that though there are many blemishes by which the eminent saints and servants of God recorded in Scripture are set forth as instan­ces of human frailty, yet not one godly man in all the Scripture is to be found, whose story is blotted with the charge of covetousness.  If that hold true, which, as yet, I am not able to disprove, we may wonder how it comes about that it should, now‑a‑days, be called the professors’ sin, and become a common charge laid by the profane upon those that pretend to heaven more than themselves.  O woe to those wretched men who, by their scandalous practices in this kind, put the coal into wicked men’s hands, with which they now black the names of all the godly, as if to be covetous were a necessary consequent of profession.