heart, that all thofe other excellent affections of foul, which I before named, could be rendered natural and habitual. The nearer we come to this, undoubtedly the perfecter. I doubt mortality is incapable of any fuch height: but the more frequent as well as the more vehement and fervent fuch affections are, the better certainly; for great is the force and virtue of holy paffion; the flame of love refines our nature, and purifies it from all its drofs; the tears of a godly forrow extinguifh all our carnal and worldly lufts; and the agitations of fear preferve the chastity and purity of the foul. 'Tis plain then, that our religion ought to be animated by holy paffions; that the more frequent and natural thefe grow, the more perfect we are; that being the most excellent frame of spirit, when we are moft apt to be fenfibly and thoroughly affected by divine truths. By what means we may attain to this, is now briefly to be confidered. 'Tis certain, that great and important, wonderful and glorious truths, will not fail to affect us, and that throughly, unless luft or infidelity have rendered us ftupid and impenetrable. And that gospel-truths are fuch, is no doubt at all; let the conviction be full, the reprefentation lively, and the truth will do its work. 'Tis for want of fuch circumftances and fuch fenfible notions of

an

an object as may ftrike the imagination; for want of clofe and particular applications, when divine truths do not move

us.

This now does not only call us to the frequent meditation of the most affecting fubjects, the majefty and omniprefence of God; the fuffering of Christ, death and judgment, heaven and hell; but it fhews alfo, how to model and form our meditations, that they prove not cold and fluggish. Let the object of our thoughts be described by the moft fenfible images or resemblances; let it be clad with the most natural circumftances; let it be made as particular as it can, by fixing its eye upon us, and pointing its motion towards us but above all, and in the first place, let the proof of it be clear and ftrong. Prayer is an exercife very apt to move the paffion: the mind having difengaged it felt from all earthly and bodily affections, is prepared for the impreffion of truth and the Spirit of God; it draws nearer into the prefence of God, and the sense of this fheds an awful reverence upon it; it has a clearer, calmer, and more ferious view of divine things, than when it is obfcured and disturbed by worldly objects. In a word, meditation is in this exercife rendered more folemn and more particular; and when the holy fire is kindled in the foul, it dilates and diffuses it felf

more

more and more, till the ftrength of defire, the vehemence of holy love transcending the weakness of this mortal nature, we faint under the paffions that we cannot bear. The Lord's Supper is an holy rite, wonderfully adapted to raise excellent paffons: Here Chrift is, as it were Jet forth crucified amongst us; we fee his body broken, and his blood poured forth; here with a devout joy we receive and embrace him by faith and love in thofe fymbols of his body, and blood, and pledges of his love. The foul must be very ill prepared, it must have very imperfect notions of fin and damnation, the cross of Chrift, grace and falvation, which is not fenfible of a croud of holy paffions fpringing up in it at this facrament. Hymns and Pfalms have, by I know not what natural magick, a peculiar force and operation upon a pious mind. Divine poetry has a noble elevation of thoughts; it does not devife and counterfeit paffions, but only vents those which it feels; and thefe are pure and lovely, kindled from above. Therefore are all its characters natural, its defcription lively, its language moving and powerful; and all is fo directly fuited to a devout mind, that it presently enters, moves, and actuates it, inspires and informs it with the very paffions it defcribes. And though all good men are not equally moved in this

duty,

duty, yet all, I believe, are more or less moved. It was very much the bufinefs of the prophets, and all of prophetick education; our Lord and his difciples practifed it frequently; it was ever a great part of religious joy, and one of the greateft pleafures of pious retirement: and I wish from my heart the efteem of it were revived in our days; I perfwade myself it would add much to the warmth and pleafure of devotion; it would contribute to introduce religion into our families; and, for ought I know, into our very recreations and friendships. And this minds me, that as I have under every foregoing head ta ken notice of the advantages of conver Sation, fo Ifhould not forget it here. This has a lively influence upon our minds, and always kindles in the foul a gentle heat. And did we but accuftom our felves to en tertain one another with discourse about another world; did we mingle the praises of God with the feafts and joys of life; did we retire to our country-houfes to contemplate the variety and riches of divine wisdom and bounty in those natural scenes of pleasure which the country affords, and did we now and then invite our friends to join with us in offering up Hallelujahs to God on this account, with brightness and ferenity, what calm and pleafure would this diffuse through all our fouls, through

all

all our days! to this that I have faid touching the exciting holy paffions, I will only add one obfervation, formed upon those words of the apoftle, James v. 13. Is any among you afflicted? let him pray. Is any merry? let him fing Pfalms. That religion must be accommodated to nature, and that devout paffions will foon fhoot up, when they are engrafted upon a natural ftock. With which I will join this other, that fince we are moft affected by fuch truths as are moft particular, circumftantiated, and fenfible, and therefore imprint themselves more eafily and deeply on our imagination; for this reafon I fhould recommend the reading the lives of faints and excellent perfons, were they not generally writ fo, that we have reafon to defire fomewhat more of the fpirit of piety in the learned, and more of judgment in the pious, who have employed their pens on this argument.

§. 4. The immediate ends of difcipline are the fubduing the pride of the heart, and the reducing the appetites of the body: By difcipline, I here understand whatever voluntary rigours we impofe upon our felves, or whatever voluntary reftraints we lay upon our allowed enjoyments. And when I fay, that the humiliation of the heart, and fubjection of the body are the