11. They are utterly unable to rejoice in any thing; they cannot apprehend, believe, or think of any thing that is comfortable to them.

They read all the threatenings of the word with quick sense and application, but the promises they read over and over, without taking notice of them, as if they had not read them; or else say, They do not belong to me: the greater the mercy of G.o.d is, and the riches of grace, the more miserable am I that have no part in them. They are like a man in continual pain or sickness, that cannot rejoice, because the feeling of his pain forbiddeth him. They look on husband, wife, friends, children, house, goods, and all without any comfort; as one would do that is going to be executed for some crime. 12. Their consciences are quick in telling them of sin, and putting them upon any dejection as a duty; but they are dead to all duties that tend to consolation; as to thanksgiving for mercies, praises of G.o.d, meditating on his love, and grace, and Christ, and promises: put them never so hard on these, and they feel not their duty, nor make any conscience of it, but think it is a duty for others, but unsuitable to them. 13. They always say that they cannot believe, and therefore think they cannot be saved: because that commonly they mistake the nature of faith, and take it to be a believing that they themselves are forgiven and in favour with G.o.d, and shall be saved; and because they cannot believe this, (which their disease will not suffer them to believe,) therefore they think that they are no believers: whereas saving faith is nothing but such a belief that the gospel is true, and Christ is the Saviour to be trusted with our souls, as causeth our wills to consent that he be ours and that we be his, and so to subscribe the covenant of grace. Yet while they thus consent, and would give a world to be sure that Christ was theirs, and to be perfectly holy, yet they think they believe not, because they believe not that he will forgive or save them. 14. They are still displeased and discontented with themselves; just as a peevish, froward person is apt to be with others: see one that is hard to be pleased, and is finding fault with every thing that he sees or hears, and offended at every one that comes in his way, and suspicious of every body that he sees whispering; and just so is a melancholy person against himself; suspecting, and displeased and finding fault with all. 15. They are much addicted to solitariness, and weary of company for the most part.

16. They are given up to fixed musings, and long, poring thoughts to little purpose: so that deep musings and thinkings are their chief employments, and much of their disease. 17. They are much averse to the labours of their callings, and given to idleness; either to lie in bed, or sit thinking unprofitably by themselves. 18. Their thoughts are most upon themselves, like the millstones that grind on themselves, when they have no grist: so one thought begets another: their thoughts are taken up about their thoughts: when they have been thinking irregularly, they think again what they have been thinking on: they meditate not much on G.o.d, (unless on his wrath,) nor heaven, nor Christ, nor the state of the church, nor any thing without them (ordinarily); but all their thoughts are contracted and turned inwards on themselves: self-troubling is the sum of their thoughts and lives.

19. Their thoughts are all perplexed like ravelled yarn or silk; or like a man in a maze, or wilderness, or that hath lost himself and his way in the night: he is poring and groping about, and can make little of any thing, but is bewildered, and moidered, and entangled the more; full of doubts and difficulties, out of which he cannot find the way.

20. He is endless in his scruples: afraid lest he sin in every word he speaketh, and in every thought, and every look, and every meal he eateth, and all the clothes he weareth: and if he think to amend them, he is still scrupling his supposed amendments: he dare neither travel, nor stay at home, neither speak, nor be silent; but he is scrupling all; as if he were wholly composed of self-perplexing scruples. 21.

Hence it comes to pa.s.s that he is greatly addicted to superst.i.tion; to make many laws to himself that G.o.d never made him; and to insnare himself with needless vows, and resolutions, and hurtful austerities; "touch not, taste not, handle not;" and to place his religion much in such outward, self-imposed tasks;[314] to spend so many hours in this or that act of devotion; to wear such clothes, and forbear other that are finer; to forbear all diet that pleaseth the appet.i.te, with much of the like. A great deal of the perfection of popish devotion proceeded from melancholy, though their government come from pride and covetousness. 22. They have lost the power of governing their thoughts by reason; so that if you convince them that they should cast out their self-perplexing, unprofitable thoughts, and turn their thoughts to other subjects, or be vacant, they are not able to obey you: they seem to be under a necessity or constraint; they cannot cast out their troublesome thoughts; they cannot turn away their minds; they cannot think of love and mercy; they can think of nothing but what they do think of, any more than a man in the tooth-ache can forbear to think of his pain. 23. They usually grow hence to a disability to any private prayer or meditation; their thoughts are presently cast all into a confusion, when they should pray or meditate; they scatter abroad a hundred ways; and they cannot keep them upon any thing: for this is the very point of their disease; a distempered, confused fantasy, with a weak reason which cannot govern it. Sometimes terror driveth them from prayer; they dare not hope, and therefore dare not pray: and usually they dare not receive the Lord's supper; here they are fearfulest of all; and if they do receive it, they are cast down with terrors, fearing that they have taken their own d.a.m.nation, by receiving unworthily. 24. Hence they grow to a great averseness to all holy duty: fear and despair make them go to prayer, hearing, reading, as a bear to the stake; and then they think they are haters of G.o.d and G.o.dliness, imputing the effects of their disease to their souls; when yet at the same time, those of them that are G.o.dly, would rather be freed from all their sins, and be perfectly holy, than have all the riches or honour in the world. 25. They are usually so taken up with busy and earnest thoughts, (which being all perplexed, do but strive with themselves, and contradict one another,) that they feel it just as if something were speaking within them, and all their own violent thoughts were the pleadings and impulse of some other; and therefore they are wont to impute all their fantasies, either to some extraordinary actings of the devil, or to some extraordinary motions of the Spirit of G.o.d: and they are used to express themselves in such words as these, It was set upon my heart, or it was said to me, that I must do thus and thus; and then it was said, I must not do this or that; and I was told I must do so or so. And they think that their own imagination is something talking in them, and saying to them all that they are thinking. 26. When melancholy groweth strong, they are almost always troubled with hideous, blasphemous temptations, against G.o.d, or Christ, or the Scripture, and against the immortality of the soul; which cometh partly from their own fears, which make them think most (against their will) of that which they are most afraid of thinking: as the spirits and blood will have recourse to the part that is hurt.

The very pain of their fears doth draw their thoughts to what they fear. As he that is over-desirous to sleep, and afraid lest he shall not sleep, is sure to wake, because his fears and desires keep him waking: so do the fears and desires of the melancholy cross themselves. And withal, the malice of the devil plainly here interposeth, and taketh advantage by this disease, to tempt and trouble them, and to show his hatred to G.o.d, and Christ, and Scripture, and to them. For as he can much easier tempt a choleric person to anger, than another, and a phlegmatic, fleshly person to sloth, and a sanguine or hot-tempered person to l.u.s.t, and wantonness; so also a melancholy person to thoughts of blasphemy, infidelity, and despair. And ofttimes they feel a vehement urgency, as if something within them urged them to speak such or such a blasphemous or foolish, word; and they can have no rest unless they yield in this, and other such cases, to what they are urged to. And some are ready to yield in a temptation to be quiet: and when they have done, they are tempted utterly to despair because they have committed so great a sin: and when the devil hath got this advantage of them, he is still setting it before them. 27. Hereupon they are further tempted to think they have committed the sin against the Holy Ghost; not understanding what that sin is, but fearing it is theirs, because it is a fearful sin: at least they think they shall not be forgiven; not considering that a temptation is one thing, and a sin another; and that no man hath less cause to fear being condemned for his sin, than he that is least willing of it, and most hateth it. And no man can be less willing of any sin, than these poor souls are of the hideous, blasphemous thoughts which they complain of. 28. Hereupon some of them grow to think that they are possessed of devils: and if it do but enter into their fantasy how possessed persons used to act, the very strength of imagination will make them do so too: so that I have known those that would swear, and curse, and blaspheme, and imitate an inward alien voice, thinking themselves that it was the devil in them that did all this. But these that go so far are but few. 29. Some of them that are near distraction, verily think that they hear voices, and see lights and apparitions, that the curtains are opened on them, that something meets them, and saith this or that to them, when all is but the error of a crazed brain and sick imagination. 30. Many of them are weary of their lives, through the constant, tiring perplexities of their minds; and yet afraid of dying: some of them resolutely famish themselves: some are strongly tempted to murder themselves, and they are haunted with the temptation so restlessly, that they can go no whither but they feel as if somewhat within them put them on, and said, Do it, do it; so that many poor creatures yield, and make away with themselves.

31. Many of them are restlessly vexed with fears of want, and poverty, and misery to their families; and of imprisonment or banishment; and lest somebody will kill them; and every one that they see whisper, they think is plotting to take away their lives. 32. Some of them lay a law upon themselves that they will not speak, and so live long in resolute silence. 33. All of them are intractable, and stiff in their own conceits, and hardly persuaded out of them, be they never so irrational. 34. Few of them are the better for any reason, conviction, or counsel that is given them: if it seem to satisfy, and quiet, and rejoice them at the present, to-morrow they are as bad again: it being the nature of their disease, to think as they do think; and their thoughts are not cured while the disease is uncured. 35. Yet in all this distemper, few of them will believe that they are melancholy; but abhor to hear men tell them so, and say it is but the rational sense of their unhappiness, and the forsakings and heavy wrath of G.o.d. And therefore they are hardly persuaded to take any physic or use any means for the cure of their bodies, saying that they are well, and being confident that it is only their souls that are distressed.

This is the miserable case of these poor people, greatly to be pitied, and not to be despised by any. I have spoken nothing but what I have often seen and known. And let none despise such, for men of all sorts do fall into this misery; learned and unlearned, high and low, good and bad, yea, some that have lived in greatest jollity and sensuality, when G.o.d hath made them feel their folly.

The causes of it are, 1. Most commonly some worldly loss, or cross, or grief, or care, which made too deep an impression on them. 2.

Sometimes excess of fear upon any common occasion of danger. 3.

Sometimes over-hard and unintermitted studies, or thoughts, which screw up and rack the fantasy too much. 4. Sometimes too deep fears, or too constant, and serious, and pa.s.sionate thoughts and cares about the danger of the soul. 5. The great preparatives to it, (which are indeed the princ.i.p.al cause,) are a weak head, and reason, joined with strong pa.s.sion, which are oftest found in women, and those to whom it is natural. 6. And in some it is brought in by some heinous sin, the sight of which they cannot bear, when conscience is but once awakened.

When this disease is gone very far, directions to the persons themselves are vain, because they have not reason and free-will to practise them; but it is their friends about them that must have the directions. But because with the most of them, and at first, there is some power of reason left, I give directions for the use of such.

_Direct._ I. See that no error in religion be the cause of your distress: especially understand well the covenant of grace, and the riches of mercy manifested in Christ. Among others, it will be useful to you to understand these following truths.

[Sidenote: Special truths to be known for preventing causeless troubles.]

1. That our thoughts of the infinite goodness of G.o.d, should bear proportion with our thoughts concerning his infinite power and wisdom.

2. That the mercy of G.o.d hath provided for all mankind so sufficient a Saviour, that no sinner shall perish for want of a sufficient satisfaction made for his sins by Christ, nor is it made the condition of any man's salvation or pardon, that he satisfy for his own sins.

3. That Christ hath in his gospel covenant (which is an act of oblivion) made over himself with pardon and salvation, to all that will penitently and believingly accept the offer. And that none perish that hear the gospel, but the final, obstinate refusers of Christ and life.

4. That he that so far believeth the truth of the gospel, as to consent to the covenant of grace, even that G.o.d the Father be his Lord and reconciled Father, and Christ his Saviour, and the Holy Ghost his Sanctifier, hath true, saving faith, and right to the blessing of the covenant.

5. That the day of grace is so far commensurate or equal to our lifetime, that whosoever truly repenteth and consenteth to the covenant of grace, before his death, is certainly pardoned, and in a state of life: and that it is every man's duty so to do, that pardon may be theirs.

6. That Satan's temptations are none of our sins, but only our yielding to them.

7. That the effects of natural sickness or diseasedness, are not (in themselves) sins.

8. That those are the smallest sins (formally) and least like to condemn us, which we are most unwilling of, and are least in love or liking of.

9. That no sin shall condemn us which we hate more than love, and which we had rather leave and be delivered from than keep: for this is true repentance.

10. That he is truly sanctified who had rather be perfect in holiness of heart and life, in loving G.o.d, and living by faith, than to have the greatest pleasures, riches, or honours of the world; taking in the means also by which both are attained.

11. That he who hath this grace and desire may know that he is elect; and the making of our calling sure by our consenting to the holy covenant, is the making of our election sure.

12. That the same thing which is a great duty to others, may be no duty to one, who by bodily distemper (as fevers, phrensies, melancholy) is unable to perform it.

_Direct._ II. Take heed of worldly cares, and sorrows, and discontents.

Set not so much by earthly things, as to enable them to disquiet you; but learn to cast your cares on G.o.d. You can have less peace in any affliction which cometh by such a carnal, sinful means. It is much more safe to be distracted with cares for heaven than for earth.

_Direct._ III. Meditation is no duty at all for a melancholy person, except some few that are able to bear a diverting meditation, which must be of something furthest from the matter which troubleth them; or except it be short meditations like ejaculatory prayers. A set and serious meditation will but confound you, and disturb you, and disable you to other duties. If a man have a broken leg, he must not go on it till it is knit, lest all the body fare the worse. It is your thinking faculty, or your imagination, which is the broken, pained part; and therefore you must not use it about the things that trouble you.

Perhaps you will say, That this is to be profane, and forget G.o.d and your soul, and let the tempter have his will. But I answer, No; it is but to forbear that which you cannot do at present, that by doing other things which you can do, you may come again to do this which you now cannot do: it is but to forbear attempting that, which will but make you less able to do all other duties. And at the present, you may conduct the affairs of your soul by holy reason. I persuade you not from repenting or believing, but from set, and long, and deep meditations, which will but hurt you.

_Direct._ IV. Be not too long in any secret duty which you find you are not able to bear. Prayer itself, when you are unable, must be performed but as you can; short confessions and requests to G.o.d must serve instead of longer secret prayers, when you are unable to do more. If sickness may excuse a man for being short, where nature will not hold out, the case is the same here, in the sickness of the brain and spirits. G.o.d hath appointed no means to do you hurt.

_Direct._ V. Where you find yourselves unable for a secret duty, struggle not too hard with yourselves, but go that pace that you are able to go quietly. For as every striving doth not enable you, but vex you, and make duty wearisome to you, and disable you more, by increasing your disease: like an ox that draweth unquietly, and a horse that chafeth himself, that quickly tireth. Preserve your willingness to duty, and avoid that which makes it grievous to you. As to a sick stomach, it is not eating much, but digesting well, that tends to health; and little must be eaten when much cannot be digested; so it is here in case of your meditations and secret prayers.

_Direct._ VI. Be most in those duties which you are best able to bear; which, with most, is prayer, with others hearing, and good discourse.

As a sick man whose stomach is against other meats, must eat of that which he can eat of. And G.o.d hath provided variety of means, that one may do the work, when the other are wanting. Do not misunderstand me; in cases of absolute necessity, I say again, you must strive to do it whatever come of it. If you are backward to believe, to repent, to love G.o.d and your neighbour, to live soberly, righteously, and G.o.dly, to pray at all; here you must strive, and not excuse it by any backwardness; for it is that which must needs be done, or you are lost. But a man that cannot read may be saved without his reading; and a man in prison or sickness may be saved without hearing the word, and without the church communion of saints: and so a man disabled by melancholy, may be saved by shorter thoughts and e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns, without set and long meditations and secret prayers; and other duties which he is able for will supply the want of these. Even as nature hath provided two eyes, and two ears, and two nostrils, and two reins, and lungs, that when one is stopped or faulty, the other may supply its wants for a time; so it is here.

_Direct._ VII. Avoid all unnecessary solitariness, and be as much as possible in honest, cheerful company. You have need of others, and are not sufficient for yourselves; and G.o.d will use and honour others, as his hands, to deliver us his blessings. Solitariness is to those that are fit for it, an excellent season for meditation and converse with G.o.d and with our hearts; but to you, it is the season of temptation and danger. If Satan tempted Christ himself, when he had him fasting and solitary in a wilderness; much more will he take this as his opportunity against you. Solitude is the season of musings and thoughtfulness, which are the things which you must fly from, if you will not be deprived of all.

_Direct._ VIII. When blasphemous or disturbing thoughts look in, or fruitless musings, presently meet them, and use that authority of reason which is left you, to cast them and command them out. If you have not lost it, reason and the will have a command over the thoughts as well as over the tongue, or hands, or feet. And as you would be ashamed to run up and down, or fight with your hands, and say, I cannot help it; or to let your tongue run all day, and say, I cannot stop it; so should you be ashamed to let your thoughts run at random, or on hurtful things, and say, I cannot help it. Do you do the best you can to help it? Cannot you bid them be gone? Cannot you turn your thoughts to something else? Or cannot you rouse up yourself, and shake them off? Some by casting a little cold water in their own faces, or bidding another do it, can rouse themselves from melancholy musings as from sleep. Or cannot you get out of the room, and set yourself about some business which will divert you? You might do more than you do, if you were but willing, and know how much it is your duty.

_Direct._ IX. When you do think of any holy things, let it be of the best things; of G.o.d, and grace, and Christ, and heaven; or of your brethren, or the church: and carry all your meditations outward; but be sure you pore not on yourselves, and spend not your thoughts upon your thoughts. As we have need to call the thoughts of careless sinners inwards, and turn them from the creature and sin, upon themselves; so we have need to call the thoughts of self-perplexing, melancholy persons outwards; for it is their disease to be still grinding upon themselves. Remember that it is a far higher, n.o.bler, and sweeter work to think of G.o.d, and Christ, and heaven, than of such worms as we ourselves are. When we go up to G.o.d, we go to love, and light, and liberty; but when we look down into ourselves, we look into a dungeon, a prison, a wilderness, a place of darkness, horror, filthiness, misery, and confusion. Therefore, though such thoughts be needful, so far as without them our repentance and due watchfulness cannot be maintained, yet they are grievous, ign.o.ble, yea, and barren, in comparison of our thoughts of G.o.d. When you are poring on your hearts, to search whether the love of G.o.d be there or no, it were wiser to be thinking of the infinite amiableness of G.o.d; and that will cause it, whether it were there before or not. So instead of poring on your hearts, to know whether they are set on heaven, lift up your thoughts to heaven, and think of its glory, and that will raise them thither, and give you and show you that which you were searching for.

Bestow that time in planting holy desires in the garden of your hearts, which you bestow in routing and puzzling yourselves in searching whether it be there already. We are such dark, confused things, that the sight of ourselves is enough to raise a loathing and a horror in our minds, and make them melancholy; but in G.o.d and glory there is nothing to discourage our thoughts, but all to delight them, if Satan do not misrepresent him to us.

_Direct._ X. Overlook not the miracle of love which G.o.d hath showed us in the wonderful incarnation, office, life, death, resurrection, ascension, and reign of our Redeemer; but steep your thoughts most in these wonders of mercy, proposed by G.o.d to be the chief matter of your thoughts. You should in reason lay out many thoughts of Christ and grace, for one that you lay out on your sin and misery. G.o.d requireth you to see your sin and misery, but so much as tendeth to magnify the remedy, and cause you to accept it. Never think of sin and h.e.l.l alone; but as the way to the thoughts of Christ and grace. This is the duty even of the worst. Are your sins ever before you? Why is not pardoning grace in Christ before you? Is h.e.l.l open before you? Why is not the Redeemer also before you? Do you say, Because that sin and h.e.l.l are yours, but Christ, and holiness, and heaven, are none of yours? I answer you, It is then because you will have it so: if you would not have it so, it is not so. G.o.d hath set life first before you, and not only death. He hath put Christ, and holiness, and heaven in his end of the balance; and the devil puts the pleasure of sin for a season in the other end. That which you choose unfeignedly is yours; for G.o.d hath given you your choice. Nothing is truer than that G.o.d hath so far made over Christ and life to all that hear the gospel, that nothing but their final obstinate refusal can condemn them:[315] Christ and life are brought to the will and choice of all, though all have not wills to accept and choose him. And if you would not have Christ, and life, and holiness, what would you rather have? and why complain you?

_Direct._ XI. Think and speak as much of the mercy which you have received, as of the sin you have committed; and of the mercy which is offered you, as of what you want. You dare not say that the mercy you have received, is no more worthy to be remembered and mentioned, than all your sins. Shall G.o.d do so much for you, and shall it be overlooked, extenuated, and made nothing of? as if his mercies had been a bare bone, or barren wilderness, which would yield no sustenance to your thoughts. Be not guilty of so great unthankfulness.

Thoughts of love and mercy would breed love and sweetness in the soul; while thoughts of sin and wrath only breed averseness, terror, bitterness, perplexity, and drive away the heart from G.o.d.

_Direct._ XII. Tie yourselves daily to spend as great a part of your time in your prayers, in the confessing of mercy received, as in confessing sin committed; and in the praises of G.o.d, as in the lamenting of your own miseries. You dare not deny but this is your duty, if you understand your duty; thanksgiving and praise are greater duties than confessing sin and misery. Resolve then that they shall have the largest share of time. If you will but do this much, (which you can do if you will,) it will in time take off the bitterness of your spirits; and the very frequent mention of sweeter things, will sweeten your minds, and change their temperature and habit, as change of diet changeth the temperature of the body. I beseech you, resolve, and try this course. If you cannot mention mercy so thankfully as you would, nor mention G.o.d's excellencies so holily and praisefully as you would, yet do what you can, and mention them as you are able. You may command your time, (what shall have the greatest share in prayer,) though not your affections; you will find the benefit very great, if you will but do this.

_Direct._ XIII. Overvalue not the pa.s.sionate part of duty, but know that judgment, will, and practice, a high esteem of G.o.d and holiness, a resolved choice, and a sincere endeavour, are the life of grace and duty, when feeling pa.s.sions are but lower, uncertain things. You know not what you do, when you lay so much on the pa.s.sionate part; nor when you strive so much for deep and transporting apprehensions; these are not the great things, nor essentials of holiness. Too much of this feeling may distract you. G.o.d knoweth how much you are able to bear.

Pa.s.sionate feelings depend much upon nature. Some persons are more sensible than others; a little thing goeth deep with some: the wisest and weightiest persons are usually least pa.s.sionate; and the weakest hardly moderate their pa.s.sions. G.o.d is not an object of sense, and therefore more fit for the understanding and will, than the pa.s.sions, to work upon. That is the holiest soul which is most inclined to G.o.d, and resolved for him, and conformed to his will; and not that which is affected with the deepest griefs, and fears, and joys, and other such transporting pa.s.sions; though it were best, if even holy pa.s.sions could be raised at the will's command, in that measure which fitteth us best for duty. But I have known many complain for want of deeper feeling, who if their feeling (as they called their pa.s.sion) had been more, it might have distracted them. I had rather be that christian that loathes himself for sin, resolveth against it, and forsaketh it, though he cannot weep for it; than one of those that can weep to-day, and sin again to-morrow, and whose sinful pa.s.sions are quickly stirred, as well as their better pa.s.sions.

_Direct._ XIV. Make not too great a matter of your own thoughts; and take not too much notice of them; but if Satan cast in molesting thoughts, if you cannot cast them out, set light by them, and take less notice of them. Making a great matter of every thought that is cast into your mind, will keep those thoughts in your mind the longer.

For that which we are most sensible of, we most think on; and that which we least regard, we least remember. If you would never be rid of them, the way is to be still noting them, and making too great a matter of them. These troublesome thoughts are like troublesome scolds, that if you regard them, and answer them, will never have done with you; but if you let them talk, and take no notice of them, nor make any answer to them, they will be weary and give over. The devil's design is to vex and disquiet you; and if he see you will not be vexed and disquieted, he will give over attempting it. I know you will say, Should I be so unG.o.dly as to make light of such sinful thoughts? I answer, Make not so light of them as to be indifferent what thoughts are in your mind, nor so as to take the small sin to be none; but make so light of them as not to take them for greater nor more dangerous sins than they are; and so light of them as not to take distinct, particular notice of them, nor to disquiet yourselves about them; for if you do, you will have no room in your thoughts for Christ and heaven, and that which should take up your thoughts; but the devil will rejoice to see how he employeth you in thinking over your own thoughts, or rather his temptations; and that he can employ you all the day in hearkening to all that he will say to you, and in thinking of his motions instead of thinking on the works of G.o.d. There are none of G.o.d's servants without irregularities and sin of thoughts, which they must daily ask forgiveness of, and rejoice to think that they have a sufficient Saviour and remedy, and that sin shall but occasion the magnifying of grace; but if they should excessively observe and be troubled at every unwarrantable thought, it would be a snare to take them off almost all their greater duties. Would you like it in your servant, if he should stop in observing and troubling himself about every ordinary imperfection in his work, instead of going on to do it?

_Direct._ XV. Remember that it is no sin to be tempted, but only to yield to the temptation; and that Christ himself was carried about and tempted blasphemously by the devil, even to fall down and worship him; and yet he made these temptations but an advantage to the glory of his victory. Take not the devil's sin to be yours. Are your temptations more horrid and odious than Christ's were? What if the devil had carried you to the pinnacle of the temple as he did Christ? Would you not have thought that G.o.d had forsaken you, and given you up to the power of Satan? But you will say, that you yield to the temptation, and so did not Christ. I answer, It cannot be expected that sinful man should bear a temptation as innocently as Christ did? Satan found nothing in Christ to comply with him; but in us he findeth a sinful nature! Wax will receive an impression when marble will not. But it is not every sinful taint that is a consent to the sin to which we are tempted.

_Direct._ XVI. Consider how far you are from loving, delighting in, or being loth to leave these sinful thoughts; and that no sin condemneth, but that which is so loved and delighted in, as that you had rather keep than leave it. Would you not fain be delivered from all these horrid thoughts and sins? Could you not be willing to live in disgrace, or want, or banishment, so you might but be free from sin?

If so, why doubt you of the pardon of it? Can you have any surer sign of repentance, or that your sin is not a reigning, unpardoned sin, than that it is not loved and desired by you? The less will, the less sin, and the more will, the more sin. The covetous man loveth his money, and the fornicator loveth his l.u.s.t, and the proud man loveth his honour, and the drunkard loveth his cups, and the glutton loveth to satisfy his appet.i.te; and so love these that they will not leave them. But do you love your disturbing, confused, or blasphemous thoughts? Are you not so weary of them, as to be even weary of your lives because of them? would you not be glad and thankful never to be troubled with them more? And yet do you doubt of pardon?

_Direct._ XVII. Charge not your souls any deeper than there is cause with the effects of your disease. Indeed remotely a man that in distraction thinks or speaks amiss, may be said to be faulty, so far as his sin did cause his disease; but directly and of itself, the involuntary effects of sickness are no sin. Melancholy is a mere disease in the spirits and imagination, though you feel no sickness; and it is as natural for a melancholy person to be hurried and molested with doubts, and fears, and despairing thoughts, and blasphemous temptations, as it is for a man to talk idly in a fever when his understanding faileth; or to think of and desire drink, when his fever kindleth vehement thirst. And how much would you have a man in a fever accuse himself for such a thirst, or such thoughts, desire, or talk? If you had those hideous thoughts in your dreams, which you have when you are awake, would you think them unpardoned sins, or rather unavoidable infirmities? why your distemper makes them to be to you but almost as dreams.

_Direct._ XVIII. Be sure that you keep yourself constantly employed (as far as your strength will bear) in the diligent labours of a lawful calling; and spend none of your precious time in idleness.

Idleness is the tide-time of the tempter: when you are idle, you invite the devil to come and vex you. Then you can have while to hearken to him, and think on all that he will put into your minds, and then to think over all those thoughts again! When you have nothing else to do, the devil will find you such work. Then you must sit still and muse; and your thoughts must be stirring in the mud of your own distempers, as children lie paddling in the dirt. And idleness is a sin, which G.o.d will not favour. He hath commanded you to "labour six days, and in the sweat of your brows to eat you bread; and he that will not labour is unworthy to eat," 2 Thess. iii. Remember that time is precious, and doth haste away, and G.o.d hath given you none in vain.

Therefore, as you are troubled for other sins, make conscience of this sin, and waste not one quarter of an hour's time in your idle, unprofitable musings. It is just with G.o.d to make your sin itself to be your punishment, and your own idle thoughts to chastise you daily, when you will not get up and go about your lawful business. Nor will pretences of prayer, or any devotion, excuse your idleness, for it is against the law of G.o.d. Above all that I have said to you, let me entreat you therefore to obey this one direction. I have known despairing, melancholy persons cured by setting themselves resolutely and diligently about their callings (and changing air and company, and riding abroad.) If you will sit musing in a corner, and sin against G.o.d by idleness and loss of time, and increase your own miseries withal, rather than you will rouse up yourself, and ply your business, your calamity is just. Say not, that you have little or nothing to do; for G.o.d hath made it the duty of all, be they never so rich, to labour in such employment as is suitable to their place and strength.

_Direct._ XIX. Do but mark well how much the devil gets by keeping you in sad, despondent thoughts; and then you may easily see that it cannot be your duty, nor best for you, which is so gainful and pleasing to the devil. By keeping you in these self-perplexing doubts and fears, he robs G.o.d of the thanks and praise which you owe him for all his mercies. These highest duties you cast aside, as if they did not belong to you. You give not G.o.d the honour of his most miraculous mercy, in our redemption; nor do you study, or relish, or admire, or magnify the riches of grace in Jesus Christ! You have poor, low thoughts of the infinite love of G.o.d, and are unfit to judge of it or perceive it, being like a choleric stomach, which puts a continual bitterness in the mouth, which hinders it from tasting any sweetness in their meat. It hereby unfitteth you for the love of G.o.d, and more inclineth you to hate him, or fly from him as an enemy, while the devil representeth him to you as one that hateth you; it loseth your time; it depriveth you of all your willingness to duty, and delight in duty, and maketh all G.o.d's service a burden and vexation to you. It is very contrary to the spirit of adoption, and to the whole frame of evangelical worship and obedience. And will you, under pretence of being more humbled, and sorrowful, and sensible, thus gratify Satan, and wrong G.o.d and yourselves.

_Direct._ XX. Trust not to your own judgment, in your melancholy state, either as to the condition of your souls, or the choice and conduct of your thoughts or ways; but commit yourselves to the judgment and direction of some experienced, faithful guide. You are no fit judges of your own condition, nor of the way of your duty, in this dark, distempered condition that you are in. Either your mind and imagination is well or ill: if it be well, why complain you of all those disturbances, and confusions, and disability to meditate and pray? If it be ill, why will you be so self-conceited as to think yourselves able to judge of yourselves, with such a distempered fantasy of mind? It is one of the worst things in melancholy persons, that commonly they are most wise in their own eyes, and stiff in their own conceits, when their brains are sickest, and their understanding weakest; and that they are confident, and unruly, and unpersuadable, as if they were proud of those pitiful understandings, and thought n.o.body knows so well as they. Oh!

say they, you know not my case! Am not I liker to know your case, who have seen so many score in that case, than you are that never knew it in any but yourself? A man that stands by may better know the case of a man that is in a dream, than he can know his own. You say that others feel not what you feel! no more doth the physician feel what a man in a fever, or falling-sickness, or distraction feeleth; and yet by the report of what you say you feel, and by what he seeth, he far better knoweth your disease, the nature and the cure of it, than you that feel it. Therefore as a wise man, when he is sick, will trust himself, under G.o.d, to the direction of his physician and the help of his friends about him, and not lie wrangling against their help and counsel, and wilfully refuse it, because they advise him contrary to his feeling; so will you do, if you are wise; trust yourself with some fit director; and despise not his judgment either about your state, or about your duty. You think you are lost, and there is no hope: hear what he saith that is now fitter to judge. Set not your weak wit too wilfully against him. Do you think he is so foolish as to mistake? should not humility make you rather think so of yourself? Be advised by him about the matter of your thoughts, the manner and length of your secret duties, and all your scruples that you need advice in. Will you answer me this one question?

Do you know any body that is wiser than yourself? and fitter to judge of your condition and advise you? If you say, no; how proud are you of such a crazed wit! If you say, yea; then believe and trust that person, and resolve to follow his direction. And I would ask you, were you not once of another judgment concerning yourself? If so, then were you not as sound and able to judge, and liker to be in the right than you are now.

_Direct._ XXI. My last advice is, to look out for the cure of your disease, and commit yourself to the care of your physician, and obey him; and do not as most melancholy persons do, that will not believe that physic will do them good, but that it is only their soul that is afflicted; for it is the spirits, imagination, and pa.s.sions, that are diseased, and so the soul is like an eye that looketh through a coloured gla.s.s, and thinks all things are of the same colour as the gla.s.s is. I have seen abundance cured by physic; and till the body be cured, the mind will hardly ever be cured, but the clearest reasons will be all in vain.

_t.i.t._ 6. _Directions for young Students, for the most profitable ordering of their studying Thoughts._