The Works of the Rev. Hugh Binning Part 23

too evident, that many Christians are kept in bondage, almost all their lifetime, through fear of eternal death. How many dismal representations of sin and wrath, are in the souls of some Christians, which keep them in much thraldom? At least, who is it that is not once and often brought in bondage after conversion, and made to apprehend fearfully their own estate, who hath such constant uninterrupted peace and joy in the Holy Ghost, or lies under such direct beams of divine favour, but it is sometimes eclipsed, and their souls filled with the darkness of horror and terror? And truly the most part taste not so much sweetness in religion as makes them incessant and unwearied in the ways of G.o.dliness. Yet, notwithstanding of all this, we must vindicate Christianity itself, and not impute these things unto it which are the infirmities and faults of the followers of it, who do not improve it unto such an use or use it so far as in itself it is capable. Indeed, it is true that often we are brought to fear again, yet withal it is certain that our allowance is larger, and that we have received the Spirit, not to put us in bondage again to fear, but rather to seal to our hearts that love of G.o.d, which may not only expel fear but bring in joy. I wish that this were deeply considered by all of us, that there is such a life as this attainable,-that the word of G.o.d doth not deceive us in promising fair things which it cannot perform, but that there is a certain reality in the life of Christianity, in that peace and joy, tranquillity and serenity of mind that is holden out, and that some have really found it, and do find it, and that the reason why all of us do not find it in experience, is not because it is not, but because we have so little apprehension of it and diligence after it. It is strange that all men who have pursued satisfaction in the things of this life, being disappointed, and one generation witnessing this to another, and one person to another, that, notwithstanding, men are this day as fresh in the pursuit of that, as big in the expectations as ever. And yet, in this business of religion, and the happiness to be found in it, though the oracles of G.o.d in all ages have testified from heaven how certain and possible it is, though many have found it in experience and left it on record to others, there is so slender belief of the reality and certainly of it, and so slack pursuit of it, as if we did not believe it at all. Truly, my beloved, there is a great mistake in this, and it is general too. All men apprehend other things more feasible and attainable than personal holiness and happiness in it, but truly, I conceive there is nothing in the world so practicable as this,-nothing made so easy, so certain to a soul that really minds it.

Let us take it so then, the fault is not religion's, that those who profess it are subject to so much fear and care, and disquieted with so much sorrow. It is rather because Christianity doth not sink into the hearts and souls of men, but only puts a tincture on their outside, or because the faith of divine truths is so superficial, and the consideration of them so slight, that they cannot have much efficacy and influence on the heart, to quiet and compose it. Is it any wonder that some souls be subject again to the bondage of fear and terror when they do not stand in awe to sin? Much liberty to sin will certainly embondage the spirit of a Christian to fear. Suppose a believer in Jesus Christ be exempted from the hazard of condemnation, yet he is the greatest fool in the world that would, on that account, venture on satisfaction to his l.u.s.ts. For though it be true that he be not in danger of eternal wrath, yet he may find so much present wrath in his conscience as may make him think it was a foolish bargain. He may lose so much of the sweetness of the peace and joy of G.o.d as all the pleasures of sin cannot compense.

Therefore to the end that you whose souls are once pacified by the blood of Christ, and composed by his word of promise, may enjoy that constant rest and tranquillity as not to be enthralled again to your old fears and terrors, I would advise and recommend to you these two things:-One is, that you would be much in the study of that allowance which the promises of Christ afford. Be much in the serious apprehension of the gospel, and certainly your doubts and fears would evanish at one puff of such a rooted and established meditation. Think what you are called to, not "to fear"

again, but to love rather, and honour him as a Father. And, then, take heed to walk suitably and preserve your seal of adoption unblotted, unrusted. You would study so to walk as you may not cast dirt upon it, or open any gap in the conscience for the re entry of these h.e.l.lish-like fears and dreadful apprehensions of G.o.d. Certainly, it is impossible to preserve the spirit in freedom if a man be not watchful against sin and corruption. David prays, "re establish me with thy free Spirit," as if his spirit had been abased, embondaged, and enthralled by the power of that corruption. If you would have your spirits kept free from the fear of wrath, study to keep them free from the power of sin, for that is but a fruit of this, and it is most suitable that the soul that cares not to be in bondage to sinful l.u.s.ts, should, by the righteousness of G.o.d, tempered with love and wisdom, be brought under the bondage he would not, that is, of fear and terror, for by this means the Lord makes him know how evil the first is, by the bitterness of the second.

It is usual on such a scripture as this, to propound many questions, and debate many practical cases as, whether a soul after believing can be under legal bondage, and wherein these differ, the bondage of a soul after believing, and in its first conversion, and how far that bondage of fear is preparatory to faith, and many such like. But I choose rather to hold forth the simple and naked truth for your edification, than put you upon to entertain you in such needless janglings and contentions. All I desire to say to a soul in bondage, is, to exhort him to come to the Redeemer, and to consider that his case calls and cries for a delivery. Come, I say, and he shall find rest and liberty to his soul. All I would say to souls delivered from this bondage, is, to request and beseech them to live in a holy fear of sin, and jealousy over themselves, that so they may not be readily brought under the bondage of the fear of wrath again. Perfect love casts out the fear of h.e.l.l, but perfect love brings in the fear of sin. Ye that love the Lord, hate ill, and if ye hate it, ye will fear it in this state of infirmity and weakness, wherein we are. And if at any time ye, through negligence and carelessness of walking, lose the comfortable evidence of the Father's love, and be reduced again to your old prison of legal terror, do not despair for that, do not think that such a thing could not befall a child of G.o.d, and from that ground do not raze former foundations, for the scripture saith not, that whosoever believes once in Christ, and receives the Spirit of adoption, cannot fear again; for we see it otherwise in David, in Heman, in Job, &c., all holy saints. But the scripture saith, Ye have not received the spirit of bondage for that end, to fear again. It is not the allowance of your Father. Your allowance is better and larger, if you knew it, and did not sit below it.

Now, the great gift, and large allowance of our Father, is expressed in the next words, "But ye have received the Spirit of adoption," &c, which Spirit of adoption is a Spirit of intercession, to make us cry to G.o.d as our Father. These are two gifts, adoption, or the privilege of sons and the Spirit of adoption revealing the love and mercy of G.o.d to the heart, and framing it to a soul like disposition. Compare the two states together, and it is a marvellous change,-a rebel condemned, and then pardoned, and then adopted to be a son of G.o.d,-a sinner under bondage, a bond slave to sin and Satan, not only freed from that intolerable bondage, but advanced to this liberty, to be made a son of G.o.d. This will be the continued wonder of eternity, and that whereabout the song of angels and saints will be. Accursed rebels expecting nothing but present death, sinners arraigned and sentenced before his tribunal and already tasting h.e.l.l in their consciences, and in fear of eternal peris.h.i.+ng, not only to be delivered from all that, but to be dignified with this privilege, to be the sons of G.o.d, to be taken from the gibbet to be crowned! That is the great mystery of wisdom and grace revealed in the gospel, the proclaiming whereof will be the joint labour of all the innumerable companies above for all eternity. Now, if you ask how this estate is attainable, himself tells us, John i. 12, "As many as believed (or received) him, to them he gave the privilege to be the sons of G.o.d." The way is made plain and easy.

Christ the Son of G.o.d, the natural and eternal Son of G.o.d, became the Son of man. To facilitate this, he hath taken on the burden of man's sin, the chastis.e.m.e.nt of our peace, and so of the glorious Son of G.o.d he became like the wretched and accursed sons of men, and therefore G.o.d hath proclaimed in the gospel, not only an immunity and freedom from wrath, to all that in the sense of their own misery cordially receive him as he is offered, but the unspeakable privilege of sons.h.i.+p and adoption for his sake, who became our elder brother, Gal. iv. 4, 5. Men that want children, use to supply their want by adopting some beloved friend in the place of a son, and this is a kind of supply of nature for the comfort of them that want. But it is strange, that G.o.d having a Son so glorious, the very character of his person, and brightness of his glory, in whom he delighted from eternity,-strange, I say, that he should in a manner lose and give away his only begotten Son, that he might by his means adopt others, poor despicable creatures, yea, rebellious, to be his sons and daughters.

Certainly, this is an act infinitely transcending nature,-such an act that hath an unsearchable mystery in it, into which angels desire to look and never cease looking, because they never see the bottom of it. It was not out of indigency he did it, not for any need he had of us, or comfort expected from us, but absolutely for our necessity and consolation, that he might have upon whom to pour the riches of his grace.

Sermon x.x.xVIII.

Verse 15.-"But ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father."

"Behold what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of G.o.d," 1 John iii. 1. It is a wonderful expression of love to advance his own creatures, not only infinitely below himself, but far below other creatures, to such a dignity. Lord, what is man that thou so magnified him! But it surpa.s.seth wonder, that rebellious creatures, his enemies, should have, not only their rebellions freely pardoned, but this privilege of sons.h.i.+p bestowed upon them, that he should take enemies, and make sons of them, and not only sons, but heirs, co-heirs with his own only begotten Son. And then, how he makes them sons, is as wonderful as the thing itself, that he should make his own Son our brother, "bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh," and make him spring out as a branch or rod out of the dry stem of Jesse, who himself was the root of all mankind. This is the way, G.o.d sent his Son, made of a woman, under the law, that we might receive the adoption of sons, Gal. iv. 5. The house of heaven marries with the earth, with them who have their foundation in the dust, the chief heir of that heavenly family joineth in kindred with our base and obscure family, and by this means we are made of kin to G.o.d. "But of him are ye in Christ Jesus," 1 Cor. i. 30. It behoved Christ, in a manner to lose his own sons.h.i.+p as to men, to have it so veiled and darkened by the superadded interest in us, and his nearness to us. He was so properly a Son of man, subject to all human infirmities, except sin, that without eyes of faith, men could not perceive that he was the Son of G.o.d. And by this wonderful exchange are we made the sons of G.o.d. Whoever, in the apprehension of their own enmity and distance from G.o.d, receive Christ Jesus, offered as the peace, the bond of union between the two families of heaven and earth, that were at an infinite odds and distance, whoever (I say) believes thus in him, and flies to him, desiring to lay down the weapons of their warfare, their peace is not only made by that marriage which Christ made with our nature, but they are blessed with this power and privilege, to be the sons and daughter of the Most High.

And from thence you may conclude, that if G.o.d be your Father, you can want nothing that is good. But the determination of what is good for you, whether in spiritual enlargements, or in the things of this life, you must refer to his wisdom, for his love indeed is strong as death, nothing can quench it. In the point of reality and constancy, there is nothing to shadow it out among men. The love of women is earnest and vehement, but that is nothing to it, (Isa. xlix. 15,) for they may forget, but he cannot. Yet his love is not a foolish dotage, like mans that is often miscarried with fancy and l.u.s.t; but it is a rational and wise affection, administered and expressed with infinite reason and wisdom; and therefore, he chooses rather to profit us than to please us in his dealings. And we who are not so fit to judge and discern our own good, should commit all to his fatherly and wise Providence. Therefore, if you be tempted to anxiety and carefulness of mind, either through the earthliness of your dispositions, or the present straits of the time, you who have resigned yourself to Jesus Christ, should call to mind that your heavenly Father careth for you. And what need you care too? Why not use your lawful callings, be diligent in them? This is not to prejudge that, but if you believe in G.o.d, then you are obliged by that profession to abate from the superfluous tormenting thoughtfulness that is good for nothing but to make you more miserable than your troubles can make you, and to make you miserable before you be miserable, to antic.i.p.ate your sorrows. If you say, G.o.d is your father, you are tied to devolve yourselves over on him, and trust in his good will and faithfulness, and to sit down quietly as children that have parents to provide for them.

Now, the other gift is great too, "the Spirit of adoption," and because ye are sons, therefore hath he given you "the Spirit of his Son," saith this apostle, Gal. iv. 6. And so it is a kind of consectary(216) of the great privilege and blessed estate of adoption. They who adopt children, use to give them some kind of token to express their love to them. But as the Lord is higher than all, and this privilege to be his son or child is the greatest dignity imaginable, so this gift of his Spirit suits the greatness and glory and love of our Father. It is a father's gift indeed, a gift suitable to our heavenly Father. If a father that is tender of the education of his child, and would desire nothing so much as that he might be of a virtuous and gracious disposition, and good ingine,(217) I think if he were to express his love in one wish, it would be this, that he might have such a Spirit in him, and this he would account better than all that he could leave him. But if it were possible to transmit a gracious, well-disposed and understanding spirit from one to another, and if men could leave it, as they do their inheritance to their children, certainly a wise and religious parent would first make over a disposition of that to his children; as Elisha sought a double measure of Elijah's spirit, so a father would wish such a measure to his children, and, if it were possible, give it. But that may not be. All that can be done is to wish well to them, and leave them a good example for imitation. But in this our heavenly Father transcends all, that he can impart his own Spirit to his adopted children, and his Spirit is in a manner the very essential principle that maketh them children of the Father. Their natures, their dispositions, are under his power. He can as well reform them, as you can change your children's garments. He can make of us what he will. Our hearts are in his hand, as the water, capable of any impression he pleaseth to put on it, and this is the impression he putteth on his children, he putteth his Spirit in their hearts, and writeth his law in their inward parts, a more divine and higher work than all human persuasion can reach. This Spirit they receive as an earnest of the inheritance, and withal, to make them fit for the inheritance of the saints in light.

Now, the working of this Spirit of adoption, I conceive to be threefold, beside that of intersession expressed in the verse. The first work of the Spirit of adoption, that wherein a father's affection seems to break first from under ground, is, the revealing to the heart the love and mercy of G.o.d to sinners. I do not say, to such a soul in particular, for that application is neither first, nor universal. But herein the Spirit of adoption first appears from under the cloud of fear; and this is the first opening of the prison of bondage, wherein a soul was shut, when the plain way of reconciliation to G.o.d in Christ, and delivery from the bondage of sin and wrath, is holden out; when such a word as this comes into the soul, and is received with some gladness, "G.o.d so loved the world that he gave his Son," &c. "This is a true and faithful saying," &c. "Come, ye that labour and are weary, and I will give rest to your souls." When a soul is made to hear the glad tidings of liberty preached to captives, of light to the blind, of joy to the heavy in spirit, of life to the dead, though he cannot come that length as to see his own particular interest, yet the very receiving affectionately and greedily such a general report as good and true, gives some ease and relaxation to the heart. To see delivery possible, is some door of hope to a desperate sinner. But to see it, and espy more than a possibility, even great probability, though he cannot reach a certainty, that will be as the breaking open of a window of light in a dark dungeon. It will be as the taking off of some of the hardest fetters, and the worst chains, which makes a man almost to think himself at liberty. Now this is the great office of the Spirit of the Father, to beget in us good thoughts of him, to incline us to charitable and favourable constructions of him, and make us ready to think well of him, to beget a good understanding in us and him, and correct our jealous misapprehensions of him. For certainly we are naturally suspicious of G.o.d, that he deals not in sad earnest with us. Whenever we see the height of our provocation, and weight of deserved indignation, we think him like ourselves, and can hardly receive without suspicion the gospel that lays open his love in Christ to the world.

Now, this is the Spirit's work, to make us entertain that honourable thought of G.o.d, that he is most inclinable to pardon sinners; and that his mercy is infinitely above man's sin; and that it is no prejudice to his holiness or justice; and to apprehend seriously a constant reality and solid truth in the promises of the gospel; and so to convince a soul of righteousness, (John xvi.) that there is a way of justifying a sinner or unG.o.dly person, without wrong to G.o.d's righteousness; and this being well pondered in the heart, and received in love, the great business is done.

After that, particular application is more easy, of which I shall not speak now, because occasion will be given in the next verse, about the Spirit's witnessing with our spirits, which is another of the Spirit's workings: only I say this, that which makes this so difficult, is a defect in the first. But the common principles of the gospel are not really, and so seriously apprehended, because many souls do not put to their seal to witness to the promises and truth of it. Therefore the Lord often denies this seal and witness to our comfort. It is certainly a preposterous way Satan puts souls upon, first, to get such a testimony from the Spirit before they labour to get such a testimony to Christ, and echo or answer in their hearts to his word. This way seems shortest; for they would leap into the greater liberty at the first hand. But certainly it is farthest about, because it is impossible for souls to leap immediately out of bondage to a.s.surance, without some middle step. They cannot pa.s.s thus from extremes to extremes, without going through the middle state of receiving Christ, and laying his word up in the heart; and therefore it proves the way furthest about, because when souls have long wearied themselves, they must at length turn in hither.

But there is another working of the Spirit I wish you were acquainted with. As the first work is to beget a suitable apprehension of G.o.d's mind and heart towards sinners, so the next is, to beget a suitable disposition in our hearts towards G.o.d as a Father. The first apprehends his love, the next reflects it back again with the heart of a sinner to him. The Spirit first brings the report of the love and grace of G.o.d to us, and then he carries the love and respect of the heart up to G.o.d.

You know how G.o.d complains in Malachi, "If I be a Father, where is my fear and honour?" For these are the only fitting qualifications of children, such a reverent, respective observance of our heavenly Father, such affectionate and humble carriage towards him, as becometh both his majesty and his love. As these are tempered one with another in him, his love not abasing his majesty, and his majesty not diminis.h.i.+ng his love; so we ought to carry, as reverence and confidence, fear and love, may be contempered one with another, so as we may neither forget his infinite greatness, nor doubt of his unspeakable love. And this inward disposition engraven on the heart, will be the principle of willing and ready obedience. It will in some measure be our meat and drink to do our Father's will. For Christ gave us an example how we should carry towards him. How humble and obedient was he, though his only begotten Son!

Sermon x.x.xIX.

Verse 15.-"Whereby we cry, Abba, Father."

As there is a light of grace in bestowing such incomparably high dignities and excellent gifts on poor sinners, such as, to make them the sons of G.o.d who were the children of the devil, and heirs of a kingdom who were heirs of wrath; so there is a depth of wisdom in the Lord's allowance and manner of dispensing his love and grace in this life. For though the love be wonderful, that we should be called the sons of G.o.d; yet, as that apostle speaks, it doth not yet so clearly appear what we shall be, by what we are, 1 John iii. 1. Our present condition is so unlike such a state and dignity, and our enjoyments so unsuitable to our rights and privileges, that it would not appear by the mean, low, and indigent state we are now into, that we have so great and glorious a Father. How many infirmities are we compa.s.sed about with! How many wants are we pressed withal! Our necessities are infinite, and our enjoyments no ways proportioned to our necessities. Notwithstanding even in this, the love and wisdom of our heavenly Father shows itself, and oftentimes more gloriously in the theatre of men's weakness, infirmities, and wants, than they could appear in the absolute and total exemption of his children from necessities.

Strength perfected in weakness, grace sufficient in infirmities, hath some greater glory than strength and grace alone. Therefore he hath chosen this way as most fit for the advancing his glory, and most suitable for our comfort and edification, to give us but little in hand, and environ us with a crowd of continued necessities and wants within and without, that we may learn to cry to him as our Father, and seek our supplies from him; and withal he hath not been sparing, but liberal in promises of hearing our cries and supplying our wants; so that this way of narrow and hard dispensation, that at first seems contrary to the love and bounty and riches of our Father, in the perfect view of it, appears to be the only way to perpetuate our communion with him, and often to renew the sense of his love and grace, that would grow slack in our hearts, if our needs did not every day stir up fresh longing, and his returns by this means are so much the more refres.h.i.+ng. There is a time of children's minority when they stand in need of continual supplies from their parents, or tutors, because they are not entered in possession of their inheritance; and while they are in this state, there is nothing more beseeming them, than in all their wants to address to their father, and represent them to him; and it is fit they should be from hand to mouth, as you say, that they may know and acknowledge their dependence on their father. Truly this is our minority, our presence in the body, which because of sin that dwells in it, and its own natural weakness and incapacity, keeps us at much distance with the Lord, that we cannot be intimately present with him. Now, in this condition, the most natural, the most comely and becoming exercise of children, is, to cry to our Father, to present all our grievances; and thus to entertain some holy correspondence with our absent Father, by the messenger of prayer and supplication, which cannot return empty, if it be not sent away too full of self-conceit. This is the most natural breathing of a child of G.o.d in this world. It is the most proper acting of his new life, and the most suitable expiration of that Spirit of adoption that is inspired into him, since there is so much life as to know what we want, and our wants are infinite. Therefore that life cannot but beat this way, in holy desires after G.o.d, whose fulness can supply all wants. This is the pulse of a Christian, that goeth continually, and there is much advantage to the continuity and interruptedness of the motion, from the infiniteness and inexhaustedness of our needs in this life, and the continual a.s.saults that are made by necessity and temptation on the heart, "But ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry," &c. He puts in his own name in the latter part, though theirs was in the former part. When he speaks of a donation or privilege, he supplies to the meanest, to show that the lowest and most despised creature is not in any incapacity to receive the greatest gifts of G.o.d; and then, when he mentions the working of that Spirit in way of intercession, because it imports necessity and want, he cares not to commit some incongruity in the language, by changing the person, that he may teach us, that weakness, infirmities, and wants, are common to the best and chiefest among Christians; that the most eminent have continual need to cry, and the lowest and obscurest believers have as good ground to believe the hearing and acceptance of their cries; that the highest are not above the weakest and lowest ordinance, and that the lowest are not below the comfort of help and acceptation in him. Nay, the growth and increase of grace, is so far from exempting men from, or setting them above, this duty of constant supplication, that by the contrary, this is the just measure of their growth and alt.i.tude in grace.

As the degrees of the height of the water Nilus in its overflowing, are a sure sign of the fertility or barrenness of that year, so the overflowings of the spirit of prayer in one gives a present account how the heart is,-whether barren and unfruitful in the knowledge of Jesus Christ, or fruitful and lively, and vigorous in it. It is certain that contraries do discover one another, and the more the one be increased, that is not only the more incompatible and inconsistent with the other, but gives the most perfect discerning of it. When grace is but as twilight in the soul, and as the dawning of the day only, gross darkness and uncleanness is seen; but the more it grow to the perfect day, the more sin is seen, and the more its hated wants are discovered that did not appear; and therefore it exerciseth itself the more in opposition to sin, and supplication to G.o.d.

To speak the truth, our growth here is but an advancement in the knowledge and sense of our indigency,-it is but a further entry into the idolatrous temple of the heart, which makes a man see daily new abominations worse than the former. And therefore you may easily know that such repeated sights and discoveries will but press out more earnest and frequent cries from the heart. And such a growth in humility, and faith in G.o.d's fulness, will be but as oil to feed the flame of supplication. For what is prayer, indeed, but the ardency of the affection after G.o.d, flaming up to him in cries and requests?

To speak of this exercise of an holy heart, would require more of the spirit of it than we have. But truly this is to be lamented, that though there be nothing more common among Christians in the outward practice of it, yet that there is nothing more extraordinary and rare, even among many that use it, than to be acquainted with the inward nature of it. Truly, the most ordinary things in religion are the greatest mysteries, as to the true life of them. We are strangers to the soul and life of these things, which consist in the holy behaviour and deportment of our spirits before the Father of spirits.

These words give some ground to speak of some special qualifications of prayer, and the chief principle of it. The chief principle and original of prayer, is, the Spirit of adoption received into the heart. It is a business of a higher nature than can be taught by precepts, or learned by custom and education. There is a general mistake among men, that the gift of prayer is attained by learning, and that it consists in the freedom and plenty of expression. But O! how many doctors and disputers of the world are there, that can defend all the articles of faith against the opposers of them; yet so unacquainted are they with this exercise, that the poor, and unlearned, and nothings in the world, who cannot dispute for religion, send up a more savoury and acceptable sacrifice, and sweet incense to G.o.d daily, when they offer up their soul's desires in simplicity and sincerity. Certainly this is a spiritual thing, derived only from the Fountain of spirits,-this grace of pouring out our souls into him, and keeping communication with him. The variety of words and riches of expression is but the sh.e.l.l of it, the external shadow; and all the life consists in the frame of the heart before G.o.d. And this none can put in frame but he that formed the spirit of man within him. Some through custom of hearing and using it, attain to a habit of expressing themselves readily in it, it may be, to the satisfaction of others; but, alas! they may be strangers to the first letters and elements of the life and spirit of prayer. I would have you who want both, look up to heaven for it. Many of you cannot be induced to pray in your family, (and I fear little or none in secret, which is indeed a more serious work,) because you have not been used, or not learned, or such like. Alas! beloved, this cometh not through education, or learning. It cometh from the Spirit of adoption; and if ye say, ye cannot pray, ye have not the Spirit; and if ye have not the Spirit, ye are not the sons of G.o.d. Know what is in the inevitable sequel of your own confessions.

But I haste to the qualifications of this divine work,-fervency, reverence, and confidence; _fervency_ in crying, _reverence and confidence_ in crying, "Abba, Father;" for these two suit well toward our Father. The first, I fear, we must seek elsewhere than in prayer. I find it spent on other things of less moment. Truly, all the spirit and affection of men runs in another channel,-in the way of contention and strife, in the way of pa.s.sion and miscalled zeal, and because these things whereabout we do thus earnestly contend, have some interest or coherence with religion, we not only excuse but approve our vehemency. But O! much better were that employed in supplications to G.o.d: that were a divine channel. Again, the marrow of other men's spirits is exhausted in the pursuit of things in the world. The edge of their desires is turned that way, and it must needs be blunted and dulled in spiritual things, that it cannot pierce into heaven, and prevail effectually. I am sure, many of us useth this excuse, who are so cold in it, that we do not warm ourselves.

And how shall we think to prevail with G.o.d? Our spirits make little noise when we cry all the loudest. We can scarce hear any whisper in our hearts, and how shall he hear us? Certainly it is not the extension of the voice pleaseth him; it is the cry of the heart that is sweet harmony in his ears. And you may easily perceive this, if you but consider that he is an infinite Spirit, that pierceth into all the corners of our hearts, and hath all the darkness of it as light before him. How can you think that such a Spirit can be pleased with lip cries? How can he endure such deceit and falsehood, (who hath so perfect a contrariety with all false appearances,) that your heart should lie so dead and flat before him, and the affection of it turned quite another way? There were no sacrifices without fire in the Old Testament, and that fire was kept in perpetually; and so no prayer now without some inward fire, conceived in the desires, and blazing up and growing into a flame in the presenting of them to G.o.d.

The incense that was to be offered on the altar of perfume, (Exod. x.x.x.) behoved to be beaten and prepared; and truly, prayer would do well to be made out of a beaten and bruised heart, and contrite spirit,-a spirit truly sensible of its own unworthiness and wants; and that beating and pounding of the heart will yield a good fragrant smell, as some spices do not till beaten. The incense was made of divers spices, intimating to us, that true prayer is not one grace alone, but a compound of graces. It is the joint exercise of all a Christian's graces; seasoned with all. Every one of them gives some peculiar fragrancy to it, as humility, faith, repentance, love, &c. The acting of the heart in supplication, is a kind of compend and result of all these, as one perfume made up of many simples. But above all, as the incense, our prayers must be kindled by fire on the altar. There must be some heat and fervour, some warmness, conceived by the Holy Spirit in our hearts, which may make our spices send forth a pleasant smell, as many spices do not till they get heat. Let us lay this engagement on our hearts, to be more serious in our addresses to G.o.d, the Father of spirits; above all, to present our inward soul before him, before whom it is naked and open, though we do not bring it. And certainly, frequency in prayer will much help us to fervency, and to keep it when we have it.

Sermon XL.

Verse 15.-"Whereby we cry, Abba, Father."

All that know any thing of religion, must needs know and confess that there is no exercise either more suitable to him that professeth it, or more needful for him, than to give himself to the exercise of prayer. But that which is confessed by all, and as to the outward performance gone about by many, I fear is yet a mystery sealed up from us, as the true and living nature of it. There is much of it expressed here in few words, "whereby we cry, Abba, Father." The divine const.i.tution and qualifications of this divine work, are here made up of a temper of fervency, reverence, and confidence. The first I spoke of before; but I fear our hearts were not well heated then, or may be cooled since. It is not the loud noise of words that is best heard in heaven, or that is constructed to be crying to G.o.d. No, this is transacted in the heart more silently to men, but it striketh up into the ears of G.o.d. His ear is sharp, and that voice of the soul's desires is shrill, and though it were out of the depths, they will meet together. It is true, the vehemency of affection will sometimes cause the extension of the voice; but yet it may cry as loud to heaven when it is kept within. I do not press such extraordinary degrees of fervour as may affect the body, but I would rather wish we accustomed ourselves to a solid calm seriousness and earnestness of spirit, which might be more constant than such raptures can be, that we might always gather our spirits to what we are about, and avocate them from impertinent wanderings and fix them upon the present object of our wors.h.i.+p. This is to wors.h.i.+p him in spirit who is a Spirit.

The other thing that composes the sweet temper of prayer, is reverence.

And what more suitable, whether you consider him or yourselves? "If I be your Father, where is my honour? and if I be your Master, where is my fear?" Mal. i. 6. While we call him Father, or Lord, we proclaim this much, that we ought to know our distance from him, and his superiority to us. And if wors.h.i.+p in prayer carry not this character, and express not this honourable and glorious Lord, whom we serve, it wants that congruity and suitableness to him that is the beauty of it. Is there any thing more uncomely, than for children to behave themselves irreverently and irrespectively towards their fathers, to whom they owe themselves? It is a monstrous thing even in nature, and to nature's light. O how much more abominable must it be, to draw near to the Father of spirits, who made us, and not we ourselves, in whose hand our breath is, and whose are all our ways; in a word, to whom we owe not only this dust, but the living spirit that animates it, that was breathed from heaven, and finally, "in whom we live, and move, and have our being," and well-being; to wors.h.i.+p such an one, and yet to behave ourselves so unseemly and irreverently in his presence, our hearts not stricken with the apprehension of his glory, but lying flat and dead before him, having scarcely him in our thoughts whom we speak to. And finally, our deportments in his sight are such, as could not be admitted in the presence of any person a little above ourselves,-to be about to speak to them, and yet to turn aside continually to every one that cometh by, and entertain communication with every base creature.

This, I say, in the presence of a king, or n.o.bleman, would be accounted such an absurd incivility, as could be committed. And yet we behave ourselves just so with the Father of spirits.

O the wanderings of the hearts of men in divine wors.h.i.+p! While we are in communication with our Father and Lord in prayer, whose heart is fixed to a constant attendance and presence, by the impression of his glorious holiness? Whose Spirit doth not continually gad abroad, and take a word of every thing that occurs, and so mars that soul correspondence? O that this word (Psal. lx.x.xix. 7.) were written with great letters on our hearts, "G.o.d is greatly to be feared in the a.s.sembly of the saints, and to be had in reverence of all them that are about him." That one word, _G.o.d_, speaketh all. Either we must convert him into an idol, which is nothing; or if we apprehend him to be G.o.d, we must apprehend our infinite distance from him, and his unspeakable, inaccessible glory above us. He is greatly feared and reverenced in the a.s.semblies that are above, in the upper courts of angels. Those glorious spirits who must cover their feet from us, because we cannot see their glory; they must cover their faces from him, because they cannot behold his glory, Isa. vi. What a glorious train hath he, and yet how reverend are they? They wait round about the throne, above and about it, as courtiers upon their king, for they are all ministering spirits, and they rest not day and night to adore and admire that holy One, crying, "Holy, holy, holy, the whole earth is full of his glory." Now, how much more then should he be greatly feared and had in reverence in the a.s.sembly of his saints, of poor mortal men, whose foundation is in the dust, and in the clay, and besides drink in iniquity like water? There are two points of difference and distance from us. He is nearer angels, for angels are pure spirits, but we have flesh, which is furthest removed from his nature. And then angels are holy and clean; yet theirs is but spotted to(218) his unspotted holiness. But we are defiled with sin, which putteth us farthest off from him, and which his holiness hath greatest antipathy at. Let us consider this, my beloved, that we may carry the impression of the glorious holiness and majesty of G.o.d on our hearts, whenever we appear before him, that so we may serve and rejoice with trembling, and pray with reverence and G.o.dly fear. If we apprehend indeed our own quality and condition, how low, how base it is, how we cannot endure the very clear aspect of our own consciences, we cannot look on ourselves steadfastly without shame and confusion of face, at the deformed spectacle we behold. Much less would we endure to have our souls opened and presented to the view of other men, even the basest of men. We would be overwhelmed with shame if they could see into our hearts? Now then, apprehend seriously what he is, how glorious in holiness; how infinite in wisdom, how the secrets of your souls are plain and open in his sight, and I am persuaded you will be composed to a reverend, humble, and trembling behaviour in his sight.

But withal I must add this, that because he is your Father, you may intermingle confidence; nay, you are commanded so to do, and this honours him as much as reverence. For confidence in G.o.d, as our Father, is the best acknowledgment of the greatness and goodness of G.o.d. It declareth how able he is to save us, and how willing, and so ratifieth all the promises of G.o.d made to us, and setteth to a seal to his faithfulness. There is nothing he accounts himself more honoured by, than a soul's full resigning itself to him, and relying on his power and good-will in all necessities, casting its care upon him, as a loving Father, who careth for us. And truly, there is much beauty and harmony in the juncture of these two, rejoicing with trembling, confidence with reverence, to ask nothing doubting, and yet sensible of our infinite distance from him, and the disproportion of our requests to his highness. A child-like disposition is composed thus, as also the temper and carriage of a courtier hath these ingredients in it. The love of his Father, and the favour of his Prince, maketh him take liberty, and a.s.sume boldness; and withal he is not unmindful of his own distance, from his Father or master. "Let us draw near with full a.s.surance of faith," Heb. x. 22. There is much in the scripture, both exhorted, commanded, and commended, of that pa???s?a, that liberty and boldness of pouring out our requests to G.o.d, as one that certainly will hear us, and grant that which is good. Unbelief spoileth all. It is a wretched and base spirited thing, that can conceive no honourable thoughts of G.o.d, but only like itself. But faith is the well-pleasing ingredient of prayer. The lower thoughts a man has of himself, it maketh him conceive the higher and more honourable of G.o.d. "My ways are not your ways, nor my thoughts as your thoughts, but as far above as the heavens above the earth," Isa. lv. 8. This is the rule of a believing soul's conceiving of G.o.d, and expecting from him; and when a soul is thus placed on G.o.d, by trusting and believing in him, it is fixed; "His heart is fixed, trusting in the Lord," Psal. cxii. 7. O how wavering and inconstant is a soul, till it fix at this anchor, upon the ground of his immutable promises! It is tossed up and down with every wind, it is double-minded; now one way, then another, now in one mind, and shortly changed; and indeed the soul is like the sea, capable of the least or greatest commotion, James i. 6-8. I know not any thing that will either fix your hearts from wandering in prayer, or establish your hearts from trouble and disquiet after it, nothing that will so exoner(219) and ease your spirits of care as this, to lay hold on G.o.d as all-sufficient, and lay that constraint on your hearts, to wait on him and his pleasure, to cast your souls on his promises, that are so full and so free, and abide there, as at your anchor-hold, in all the vicissitudes and changes of outward or inward things. In spiritual things that concern your salvation, that which is absolutely necessary, you may take the boldness to be absolute in it, and as Job, "though he should slay me, yet will I trust in him;" and as Jacob, "I will not let thee go till thou bless me." But either in outward things, that have some usefulness in them, but are not always fittest for our chiefest good; or in the degrees of spiritual gifts, and measures of graces, the Lord calls us without anxiety to pour out our hearts in them unto him. But withal we would do it with submission to his pleasure, because he knows best what is best for us. In these, we are not bound to be confident to receive the particular we ask, but rather our confidence should pitch upon his good-will and favour, that he will certainly deny nothing that himself knows is good for us. And so in these we should absolutely cast ourselves without carefulness upon his loving and fatherly providence, and resign ourselves to him to be disposed of in them as he sees convenient. There is sometimes too much limitation of G.o.d, and peremptoriness used with him in such things, in which his wisdom craves a lat.i.tude both in public and private matters, even as men's affections and interests are engaged. But ordinarily it is attended and followed with shame and disappointment in the end. And there is, on the other hand, intolerable remissness and slackness in many, in pressing even the weightiest pet.i.tions of salvation, mortification, &c. which certainly ariseth from the diffidence and unbelief of the heart, and the want of that rooted persuasion, both of the incomparable necessity and worth of the things themselves, and of his willingness and engagement to bestow them.

The word is doubled here, "Abba, Father," the Syriac and Greek word signifying one thing, expressing the tender affection and love of G.o.d towards them that come to him. "He that cometh to G.o.d must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that seek him diligently." So he that cometh to G.o.d must believe that he hath the bowels and compa.s.sion of a Father, and will be more easily inclined with our importunate cries, than the fathers of our flesh. He may suffer his children to cry long, but it is not because he will not hear, but because he would hear them longer, and delights to hear their cry oftener. If he delay, it is his wisdom to appreciate and endear his mercies to us, and to teach us to press our pet.i.tions and sue for an answer.

Besides, this is much for our comfort, that from whomsoever, and whatsoever corner in the world, prayers come up to him, they cannot want acceptance. All languages, all countries, all places are sanctified by Jesus Christ, that whosoever calls upon the name of the Lord, from the ends of the earth, shall be saved. And truly it is a sweet meditation to think, that from the ends of the earth, the cries of souls are heard; and that the end is as near heaven as the middle; and a wilderness as near as a paradise; that though we understand not one another, yet we have one loving and living Father that understands all our meanings. And so the different languages and dialects of the members of this body make no confusion in heaven, but meet together in his heart and affection, and are one perfume, one incense, sent up from the whole catholic church, which here is scattered on the earth. O that the Lord would persuade us to cry this way to our Father in all our necessities!

FELLOWs.h.i.+P WITH G.o.d

Or, Twenty-Eight Sermons on the First Epistle of John, Chapters I. and II.

Wherein The True Ground And Foundation Of Attaining The Spiritual Way Of Entertaining Fellows.h.i.+p With The Father And The Son, And The Blessed Condition Of Such As Attain To It, Are Most Succinctly And Dilucidly Explained. To The Sincere Seeker After Fellows.h.i.+p With G.o.d, And Seriously Heaven-Ward-Tending Christian.

Preface.

DEAR AND WELL-BELOVED FRIEND,

As thou art in thyself a rare jewel, a most precious stone, one of a thousand, yea, of ten thousand, being compared with the many thousands of common stones, I mean, external professors in the visible church, who rest on a bare name, and of whom that is verified in every nation, which our Saviour saith, Matth. xx. 16. "Many are called, but few are chosen;" and of many of whom that is also too true in every generation, (and, oh! that it were not too manifest in this also,) which Paul observed in his time, Phil. iii. 18, 19. "For many walk, of whom I have told you often, and now tell you, even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ.