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in to our aid that more spiritual and refined doctrine introduced upon it by Christ, namely, -To forgive a brother not only to seven times, but to seventy times seven: that is, without limitation.

In this the excellency of the gospel is said by some one to appear with a remarkable advantage: 'That a Christian is as much disposed to love and serve you when your enemy as the mere moral man can be when he is your friend.' This, no doubt, is the tendency of his religion; but how often, or in what degrees, it succeeds, -how nearly the practice keeps pace with the theory, the allwise Searcher into the hearts of men alone is able to determine. But it is to be feared that such great effects are not so sensibly felt as a speculative man would expect from such powerful motives; and there is many a Christian society which would be glad to compound amongst themselves for some lesser degrees of perfection on one hand, were they sure to be exempted on the other from the bad effects of those fretful passions which are ever taking, as well as ever giving, the occasions of strife; the beginnings of which Solomon aptly compares to the letting out of waters-the opening of a breach which no one can be sure to stop till it has proceeded to the most fatal events.

species of forgiveness, which is seldom enforced or thought of, and yet is no way below our regard: I mean the forgiveness of those, if we may be allowed the expression, whom we have injured ourselves. One would think that the difficulty of forgiving could only rest on the side of him who has received the wrong; but the truth of the fact is often otherwise. The consciousness of having provoked another's resentment often excites the aggressor to keep beforehand with the man he has hurt, and not only to hate him for the evil he expects in return, but even to pursue him down, and put it out of his power to make reprisals.

The baseness of this is such that it is sufficient to make the same observation which was made upon the crime of parricide among the Grecians: It was so black, their legislators did not suppose it could be committed, and therefore made no law to punish it.

XIII.-DUTY OF SETTING BOUNDS TO

OUR DESIRES.

'And he said unto him, Say now unto her, Behold, thou hast been careful for us with all this care; what is to be done for thee? wouldst thou be spoken for to the king, or the captain of the host? And she answered, I dwell among mine own people.'-2 KINGS IV. 13. THE first part of the text is the words which the prophet Elisha puts into the mouth of his servant Gehazi, as a message of thanks to the woman of Shunem for her great kindness and hospitality; of which, after the acknowledgment of his just sense,-which Gehazi is bid to deliver in the words, Behold, thou hast been careful for us with all this care,―he directs him to inquire in what manner he may best make a return in discharge of the obligation :-'What shall be done for thee? wouldst thou be spoken for to the king, or the captain of the host?' The last part of the text is the Shunammite's answer, which implies a refusal of the honour or advantage which the prophet intended to bring upon her by such an application, which she indirectly expresses in her contentment and satisfaction with what she enjoyed in her present station:-'I dwell among mine own people.' This instance of self-denial in the Shunammite is but properly the introduction to her story, and

With justice, therefore, might the son of Sirach conclude concerning pride, that secret stream which administers to the overflowings of resentments, that it was not made for man; nor furious anger for him that is born of a woman. That the one did not become his station; and that the other was destructive to all the happiness he was intended to receive from it. How miserably, then, must those men turn tyrants against themselves as well as others, who grow splenetic and revengeful, not only upon the little unavoidable oppositions and offences they must meet with in the commerce of the world, but upon those which only reach them by report, and accordingly torment their little souls with meditating how to return the injury before they are certain they have received one! Whether this eager sensibility of wrongs and resentment arises from that general cause to which the son of Sirach seems to reduce all fierce anger and passion; or whether to a certain sourness of temper, which stands in everybody's way, and therefore sub-gives rise to that long and very pathetic transject to be often hurt;-from whichever cause the disorder springs, the advice of the author of the Book of Ecclesiasticus is proper: 'Admonish a friend,' says he, 'it may be he hath not done it; and if he have, that he do it not again. Admonish thy friend, it may be he hath not said it; and if he have, that he speaks it not again. There is that slippeth in his speech, but not from his heart: and who is he who hath not offended with his tongue?'

action which follows,-in the supernatural grant of a child, which God had many years denied her; the affecting loss of him as soon as he was grown up, and his restoration to life by Elisha after he had been some time dead; the whole of which, though extremely interesting, and forming such incidents as would afford sufficient matter for instruction, yet as it will not fall within the intention of this discourse, I shall beg leave at this time barely to consider I cannot help taking notice here of a certain those previous circumstances of it to which the

text confines me; upon which I shall enlarge with such reflections as occur, and then proceed to that practical use and exhortation which will naturally fall from it.

We find that, after Elisha had rescued the distressed widow and her two sons from the hands of the creditor, by the miraculous multiplication of her oil,-he passed on to Shunem, where, we read, was a great woman, and she constrained him to eat bread; and so it was, that as often as he passed by he turned in thither to eat bread. The sacred historian speaks barely of her temporal condition and station in life,-'That she was a great woman,' but describes not the more material part of her (her virtues and character), because they were more evidently to be discovered from the transaction itself; from which it appears that she was not only wealthy, but likewise charitable, and of a very considerate turn of mind; for after many repeated invitations and entertainments at her house, finding his occasions called him to a frequent passage that way, she moves her husband to set up and furnish a lodging for him, with all the conveniences which the simplicity of those times required: 'And she said unto her husband, Behold, now I perceive that this is a holy man of God, which passeth by us continually. Let us make him a little chamber, I pray thee, on the wall, and let us set for him there a bed, and a table, and a stool, and a candlestick; and it shall be when he cometh to us that he shall turn in thither.' She perceived he was a holy man; she had many opportunities, as he passed by them continually, of observing his behaviour and deportment, which she had carefully remarked, and saw plainly what he was, that the sanctity and simplicity of his manners, the severity of his life, his zeal for the religion of his God, and the uncommon fervency of his devotion, when he worshipped before him, which seemed his whole business and employment upon earth,-all bespoke him not a man of this world, but one whose heart and affections were fixed upon another object, which was dearer and more important to him. But as such outward appearances may be, and often have been, counterfeited, so that the actions of a man are certainly the only interpreters to be relied on, whether such colours are true or false,—so she had heard that all was of a piece there, and that he was throughout consistent; that he had never in any one instance of his life acted as if he had any views in the affairs of this world, in which he had never interested himself at all, but where the glory of his God, or the good and preservation of his fellow-creatures, at first inclined him: that, in a late instance, before he came to Shunem, he had done one of the kindest and most charitable actions that a good man could have done, in assisting the widow and the fatherless; and as the fact was singular,

and had just happened before her knowledge of him, no doubt she had heard the story with all the tender circumstances which a true report would give it in his favour, namely, that a certain woman, whose husband was lately dead, and had left her with her children in a very helpless condition,-very destitute, and, what was still worse, charged with a debt she was not able to pay; that her creditor bore exceeding hard upon her, and, finding her little worth in substance, was going to take the advantage which the law allowed of seizing her two sons for his bondsmen ; so that she had not only lost her husband, which had made her miserable enough already, but was going to be bereaved of her children, who were the only comfort and support of her life: that upon her coming to Elisha with this sad story, he was touched with compassion for her misfortunes, and had used all the power and interest which he had with his God to relieve and befriend her, which, in an unheard-of manner, by the miraculous increase of her oil, which was the only substance she had left, he had so bountifully effected as not only to disentangle her from her difficulties in paying the debt, but withal, what was still more generous, to enable her to live comfortably the remainder of her days. She considered that charity and compassion was so leading a virtue, and had such an influence upon every other part of a man's character, as to be a sufficient proof by itself of the inward disposition and goodness of the heart; but that so engaging an instance of it as this, exercised in so kind and so seasonable a manner, was a demonstration of his ; and that he was in truth, what outward circumstances bespoke, a holy man of God. As the Shunammite's principle and motive for her hospitality to Elisha was just, as it sprung from an idea of the worth and merit of her guest, so likewise was the manner of doing it kind and considerate. It is observable, she does not solicit her husband to assign him an apartment in her own house, but to build him a chamber on the wall, apart; she considered that true piety wanted no witnesses, and was always most at ease when most private; that the tumult and distraction of a large family were not fit for the silent meditations of so holy a man, who would perpetually there meet with something either to interrupt his devotion or offend the purity of his manners; that, moreover, under such an independent roof, where he could take shelter as often as his occasions required, she thought he might taste the pleasure which was. natural to man in possessing something like what he could call his own, and, what is no small part of conferring a favour, he would scarce feel the weight of it, or at least much seldomer in this manner than where a daily invitation and repetition of the kindness perpetually put him in mind of his obligation. If anything could still add to this, it was that it

did not appear to be the dry offer of a faint civility, but that it came directly from the heart. There is a nicety in honest minds which will not accept of a cold and suspected offer; and even when it appears to be sincere and truly meant, there is a modesty in true merit which knows not how to accept it; and no doubt she had one, if not both these difficulties to conquer in their turns, -for we read that she constrained him, and in all likelihood forced his acceptance of it, with all the warmth and friendly openness of a humane and hospitable temper.

It is with benefits as with injuries, in this respect, that we do not so much weigh the accidental good or evil they do us as that which they were designed to do us,—that is, we consider no part of them so much as their intention; and the prophet's behaviour consequent upon this shows he beheld it through this medium, or in some such advantageous light as I have placed it.

There is no burthen so heavy to a grateful mind as a debt of kindness unpaid, and we may believe Elisha felt it so, from the earnest desire which he had, upon the immediate receipt of this, to discharge himself of it; which he expresses in the text in the warmest manner: -Behold, thou hast been careful for us, with all this care; what shall be done for thee? Wouldst thou be spoken for to the king, or the captain of the host?' There is a degree of honest impatience in the words, such as was natural to a good man, who would not be behind hand with his benefactor. But there is one thing which may seem strange at first sight, that, as her station and condition of life was such that she appeared rather to have abounded already than stood in want of anything in this world which such an application could supply, why the prophet should not rather have proposed some spiritual advantage, which, as it would better have become the sanctity of his character on the one hand, so, on the other, it would have done a more real and lasting service to his friend.

But we are to reflect that, in returning favours, we act differently from what we do in conferring them in the one case we simply consider what is best; in the other, what is most acceptable. The reason is, that we have a right to act according to our own ideas of what will do the party most good, in the case where we bestow a favour; but where we return one we lose this right, and act according to his conceptions who has obliged us, and endeavour to repay in such a manner as we think it most likely to be accepted in discharge of the obligation. So that, though we are not to imagine Elisha could be wanting in religious duties, as well as wishes, to so hospitable a friend, we may yet suppose he was directed here by this principle of equity; and that in reflecting in what manner he

should requite his benefactress, he had considered that to one of her affluent condition, who had all the reasonable comforts of an independent life,-if there was any passion yet unsatisfied, it must certainly be ambition; that though in general it was an irregular appetite, which in most cases 'twas dangerous to gratify, yet, in effect, 'twas only so far criminal as the power which is acquired was perverted to bad and vicious purposes, which it was not likely to be here, from the specimen she had already given of her disposition, which showed that, if she did wish for an increase of wealth or honour, she wished it only as it would enable her more generously to extend her arm in kind offices, and increase the power as well as the opportunities of doing good.

In justice to Elisha's motive, which must have been good, we must suppose he considered his offer in this light; and what principally led him to propose it was the great interest that he had with the king of Israel at that time, which he had merited by a signal service; and as he had no views for himself, he thought it could not be employed so well as in establishing the fortune of one whose virtue might be so safely trusted with it. It was a justifiable prepossession in her favour, though one not always to be relied on; for there is many a one who in a moderate station, and with a lesser degree of power, has behaved with honour and unblemished reputation, and who has even borne the buffetings of adverse fortune well, and manifested great presence and strength of mind under it, whom nevertheless a high exaltation has at once overcome, and so entirely changed as if the party had left not only his virtue, but even himself, behind him.

Whether the Shunammite dreaded to make this dangerous experiment of herself, or, which is more likely, that she had learned to set bounds to her desires, and was too well satisfied with her present condition to be tempted out of it, she declines the offer in the close of the text,'I dwell amongst mine own people :' as if she had said, "The intended kindness is far from being small, but it is not useful to me. I live here, as thou art a witness, in peace, in a contented obscurity; not so high as to provoke envy, nor so low as to be trodden down and despised. In this safe and middle state, as I have lived amongst my own people, so let me die, out of the reach both of the cares and glories of the world. 'Tis fit, O holy man of God! that I learn some time or other to set bounds to my desires; and if I cannot fix them now, when I have already more than my wants require, when shall I hope to do it? Or how shall I expect that even this increase of honour or fortune would fully satisfy and content my ambition, should I now give way to it?'

So engaging an instance of unaffected moderation and self-denial deserves well to be con

sidered by the bustlers in this world; because, if we are to trust the face and course of things, we scarce see any virtue so hard to be put into practice, and which the generality of mankind seem so unwilling to learn, as this of knowing when they have enough, and when it is time to give over their worldly pursuits. Ay! but nothing is more easy, you will answer, than to fix this point, and set certain bounds to it. 'For my own part (you will say), I declare I want, and would wish no more, but a sufficient competency of those things which are requisite to the real uses and occasions of life, suitable to the way I have been taught to expect from use and education.'-But recollect how seldom it ever happens, when these points are secured, but that new occasions and new necessities present themselves; and every day, as you grow richer, fresh wants are discovered, which rise up before you as you ascend the hill; so that every step you take-every accession to your fortune, sets your desires one degree further from rest and satisfaction; that something you have not yet grasped, and possibly never shall; that devil of a phantom, unpossessed and unpossessable, is perpetually haunting you, and stepping in betwixt you and your contentment. Unhappy creature!-to think of enjoying that blessing without moderation! or imagine that so sacred a temple can be raised upon the foundation of wealth or power! If the groundwork is not laid within your own mind, they will as soon add a cubit to your stature as to your happiness. To be convinced it is so, pray look up to those who have got as high as their warmest wishes could carry them in this ascent. Do you observe they live the better, the longer, the merrier? or that they sleep the sounder in their beds for having twice as much as they wanted, or well know how to dispose of? Of all rules for calculating happiness, this is the most deceitful, and which few but weak minds, and those unpractised in the world too, ever think of applying as the measure in such an estimation. Great and inexpressible may be the happiness which a moderate fortune and moderate desires, with a consciousness of virtue, will secure. Many are the silent pleasures of the honest peasant who rises cheerful to his labour: why should they not? Look into his house, the seat of each man's happiness: has he not the same domestic endearments, the same joy and comfort in his children, and as flattering hopes of their doing well, to enliven his hours and gladden his heart, as you could conceive in the highest station? And I make no doubt, in general, but if the true state of his joys and sufferings could be fairly balanced with those of his betters, whether anything would appear at the foot of the account but what would recommend the moral of this discourse. This, I own, is not to be attained to by the cynical stale trick of haranguing against

the goods of fortune: they were never intended to be talked out of the world. But as virtue and true wisdom lie in the middle of extremes, -on one hand, not to neglect or despise riches so as to forget ourselves; and, on the other, not to pursue and love them so as to forget God: to have them sometimes in our heads, but always something more important in our hearts.

XIV. SELF-EXAMINATION.

'The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's crib; but Israel doth not know, my people doth not consider.-ISAIAH I. 3.

'TIS a severe but an affectionate reproach of the prophet's laid against the Israelites, which may safely be applied to every heedless and unthankful people, who are neither won by God's mercies nor terrified by his punishments. There is a giddy, thoughtless, intemperate spirit gone forth into the world, which possesses the generality of mankind; and the reason the world is undone is because the world does not consider,-considers neither the awful character of God, nor the true relation themselves bear to him. Could they consider this, and learn to weigh the causes and compare the consequences of things, and to exercise the reason which God has put into us for the government and direction of our lives, there would be some hopes of a reformation. But, as the world goes, there is no leisure for such inquiries; and so full are our minds of other matters, that we have not time to ask nor a heart to answer the questions we ought to put to ourselves.

Whatever our condition is, 'tis good to be acquainted with it in time, to be able to supply what is wanting,—and examine the state of our accounts before we come to give them up to an impartial Judge.

The most inconsiderate see the reasonableness of this,-there being few, I believe, either so thoughtless, or even so bad, but that they sometimes enter upon this duty, and have some short intervals of self-examination, which they are forced upon, if from no other motive, yet at least to free themselves from the load and oppression of spirits they must necessarily be subject to without it. But, as the Scripture frequently intimates-and observation confirms it daily-there are many mistakes attending the discharge of this duty,-I cannot make the remainder of this discourse more useful than by a short inquiry into them. I shall therefore, first, beg leave to remind you of some of the many unhappy ways by which we often set about this irksome task of examining our works without being either the better or the wiser for the employment.

And first, then, let us begin with that which is the foundation of all the other false measures we take in this matter,-that is, the setting

about the examination of our works before we are prepared with honest dispositions to amend them: this is beginning the work at the wrong end. These previous dispositions in the heart are the wheels that should make this work go easily and successfully forwards; and to take them off, and proceed without them, 'tis no miracle if, like Pharaoh's chariots, they that drive them, drive them heavily along.

Besides, if a man is not sincerely inclined to reform his faults, 'tis not likely he should be inclined to see them; nor will all the weekly preparations that ever were wrote bring him nearer the point: so that, with how serious a face soever he begins to examine, he no longer does the office of an inquirer, but an apologist; whose business is not to search for truth, but skilfully to hide it. So long, therefore, as this pre-engagement lasts betwixt the man and his old habits, there is little prospect of proving his works to any good purpose, of whatever kind they are, with so strong an interest and power on their side. As in other trials, so in this, 'tis no wonder if the evidence is puzzled and confounded, and the several facts and circumstances so twisted from their natural shapes, and the whole proof so altered and confirmed on the other side, as to leave the last state of that man even worse than the first.

A second unhappy, though general, mistake in this great duty of proving our works is that which the Apostle hints at ; in doing it not by a direct examination of our own actions, but from a comparative view of them with the lives and actions of other men.

When a man is going to enter upon this work of self-examination, there is nothing so common as to see him look round him, instead of looking within him. He looks round,-finds out some one who is more malicious,-sees another that is more covetous,- -a third that is more proud and imperious than himself; and so indirectly forms a judgment of himself, not from a review of his life and a proving of his own works, as the Apostle directs him, but rather from proving the works of others, and from their infirmities and defects drawing a deceitful conclusion in favour of himself. In all competitions of this kind, one may venture to say there will be ever so much of self-love in a man as to draw a flattering likeness of one of the parties; and 'tis well if he has not so much malignity too as to give but a coarse picture of the other, finished with so many hard strokes as to make the one as unlike its original as the other.

Thus the Pharisee, when he entered the temple, no sooner saw the publican but that moment he formed the idea to himself of all the vices and corruptions that could possibly enter into the man's character, and with great dexterity stated all his own virtues and good qualities over against them. His abstinence

and frequent fastings, exactness in the debts and ceremonies of the law; not balancing the account, as he ought to have done, in this manner :-'What! though this man is a publican and a sinner, have not I my vices as well as he? 'Tis true his particular office exposes him to many temptations of committing extortion and injustice; but then am not I a devourer of widows' houses, and guilty of one of the most cruel instances of the same crime? He, possibly, is a profane person, and may set religion at nought; but do not I myself for a pretence make long prayers, and bring the greatest of all scandals upon religion, by making it a cloak to my ambitious and worldly views? If he, lastly, is debauched and intemperate, am not I conscious of as corrupt and wanton dispositions; and that a fair and guarded outside is my best pretence to the opposite character?'

If a man will examine his works by a comparative view of them with others, this, no doubt, would be the fairer, and least likely to mislead him. But this is seldom the method this trial has gone through; in fact, it generally turns out to be as treacherous and delusive to the man himself as it is uncandid to the man who is dragged into the comparison; and whoever judges of himself by this rule, so long as there is no scarcity of vicious characters in the world, 'tis to be feared he will often take the occasions of triumph and rejoicing, where in truth he ought rather to be sorry and ashamed.

A third error in the manner of proving our works is what we are guilty of when we leave out of the calculation the only material parts of them; I mean the motives and first principles whence they proceeded. There is many a fair instance of generosity, chastity, and self-denial, which the world may give a man the credit of; which, if he would give himself the leisure to reflect upon, and trace back to their first springs, he would be conscious proceeded from such views and intentions as, if known, would not be to his honour. The truth of this may be made evident by a thousand instances in life; and yet there is nothing more usual than for a man, when he is going upon this duty of self-examination, instead of calling his own ways to remembrance, to close the whole inquiry at once with this short challenge,- That he defies the world to say ill of him.' If the world has no express evidence, this indeed may be an argument of his good luck; but no satisfactory one of the real goodness and innocence of his life. A man may be a very bad man, and yet through caution, through deep-laid policy and design, may so guard all outward appearances as never to want this negative testimony on his side,"That the world knows no evil of him,'-how little soever he deserves it. Of all assays upon a man's self, this may be said to be the slightest; this method of proving the goodness of our works differing but little in kind from that

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