An Extract from Mr. Law’s Spirit of PRAYER

PART II.

The first Dialogue between Academicus, Rusticus and Theophilus. At which Humanus was present.

Theophilus.ACADEMICUS,
your education has so accustomed you to the pleasure of reading variety of books, that you hardly propose any other end in reading, than the entertainment of your mind: thus the spirit of prayer has only awakened in you a desire to see another part upon the same subject. This fault is very common to others, as well as scholars, and even to those who delight in reading good books.

Philo for these twenty years has been collecting and reading all the spiritual books he can hear of. He reads them, as the critics read commentators and lexicons; to be nice and exact in telling you the stile, spirit, and intent of this or that spiritual writer; how one is more accurate in this, and the other in that. Philo will ride you forty miles in winter to have a conversation about spiritual books, or to see a collection larger than his own. Philo is amazed at the deadness and insensibility of the Christian world, that they are such strangers to the spiritual nature of the Christian salvation; he wonders how they can be so zealous for the outward letter and form of ordinances, and so averse to that spiritual life, that they all point at, as the one thing needful. But Philo never thinks how wonderful it is, that a man who knows regeneration to be the whole, should yet content himself with the love of books upon the new birth, instead of being born again himself. For all that is changed in Philo, is his taste for books. He is no more dead to the world, no more delivered from himself, is as fearful of adversity, as fond of prosperity, as easily provoked and pleased with trifles, as much governed by his own will, tempers and passions, as unwilling to deny his appetites, or enter into war with himself, as he was twenty years ago. Yet all is well with Philo; he has no suspicion of himself; he dates the newness of his life from the time that he discovered the pearl of eternity in spiritual authors.

All this, Academicus, is said on your account, that you may not lose the benefit of
this spark of the divine life that is kindled in your soul.

It demands at present an eagerness of another kind, than that of much reading, even upon the most spiritual matters.

Academicus. I thank you, Theophilus; but did not imagine my eagerness after such books to be so dangerous a mistake.

Theophilus. I have said nothing, my friend, with a design of hindering your acquaintance with all the truly spiritual writers. I would rather in a right way help you to a true intimacy with them: for he that converses rightly with them has an happiness, that can hardly be overvalued.

My intention is only to abate, for a time, a spirit of eagerness after much reading, which in your state rather gratifies curiosity, than reforms the heart.

Suppose you had seen an angel from heaven, who had discovered to you a glimpse of that glorious union in which it lived with God. Suppose it had told you that your own soul was capable of all this, but that your flesh and blood would not suffer it to be imparted to you. Suppose it had told you, that all your life had been spent in helping this flesh and blood to more and more power over you, to hinder you from knowing and feeling the divine life within you. Suppose it had told you, that to this day, you had lived in the grossest self-idolatry, loving, serving, honouring, and adoring yourself instead of loving, serving, and adoring God: that all your intentions, projects, cares, pleasures, and indulgences, had been only so much labour to bring you to the grave in a total ignorance of that great work, for which alone you was born into the world.

Suppose it had told you, that all this insensibility of your state, was wilfully brought upon yourself, because you had boldly resisted all the inward and outward calls of God, all the teachings, doings, and sufferings of the Son of God. *Suppose it left you with this farewell, O man, awake; thy work is great, thy time is short, I am thy last trumpet; the grave calls for thy flesh and blood, thy soul must enter into a new lodging. To be born again, is to be an angel: not to be born again, is to become a devil.

Tell me now, Academicus, what would you expect from a man who had been thus awakened, and pierced by the voice of an angel? Could you think he had any sense left, if he was not cast into the deepest depth of self-dejection, and self-abhorrence? Casting himself with a broken heart, at the feet of the divine mercy, desiring nothing but that, from that time, every moment of his life might be given unto God, in the most perfect denial of every temper and inclination that nourished the corruption of his nature: wishing and praying from the bottom of his heart, that God would lead him into and thro’ every thing inwardly and outwardly, that might destroy the evil workings of his nature, and awaken all that was holy and heavenly within him.

Or would you think he was enough affected with this angelic visit, if all that it had awakened in him, was only a longing desire to hear the same, or another angel talk again?

Academicus. Oh Theophilus, you have said enough: for all that is within me consents to the truth of what you have said. I now feel in the strongest manner, that I have been rather amused, than edified, by what I have read.

Theophilus. A spiritual book, Academicus, is a call to as real and total a death to the life of corrupt nature, as that which Adam died in paradise, was to the loss of heaven. All our redemption consists in our regaining that first life of heaven, to which Adam died in paradise: and the one work of redemption, is the one work of raising up a life and spirit, contrary to that we derive from our fallen parents. To think therefore of any thing, but the continual, total denial of our earthly nature, is to overlook the one thing on which all depends. And to hope for any thing, to trust or pray for any thing, but the life of God, in our souls, is as useless to us, as placing our hope and trust in a graven image.

Now is your time, Academicus, to enter deeply into this great truth. You are just come out of the slumber of life, and begin to see the nature
of your salvation. You are charmed with the discovery of a kingdom of heaven within you, and long to be entertained more and more with the nature, progress, and perfection of this kingdom in your soul.

But, my friend, stop a little. It is indeed great joy that the pearl of great price is found; but take notice, it is not your’s till, as the merchant did, you sell all that you have, and buy it. Think of a lower price, or be unwilling to give thus much for it; plead in your excuse, that you keep the commandments, and then you are that very rich young man in the gospel, who went away sorrowful from our Lord, when he had said, If thou wilt be perfect, that is, if thou wilt obtain the pearl, sell all that thou hast, and give to the poor; that is, die to thyself and then thou hast given all that thou hast to the poor, all is devoted and used for the love of God and thy neighbour. The apostate nature corrupts every thing it touches; it defiles every thing it receives; it turns all the gifts and blessings of God into coveteousness, partiality, pride, hatred and envy.

*Hence it is that sin rides in triumph over church and state, and from the court to the cottage all is over-run with sensuality, guile, falseness, pride, wrath, selfishness, and every form of corruption. Every one swims away in this torrent, but he who hears and attends to the voice of the Son of God, calling him to die to this life, to take up his cross and follow him. Much learned pains has been often taken to prove Rome, or Constantinople, to be the seat of the beast, the antichrist, the scarlet whore. But, alas! they are not at such a distance from us, they are the properties of fallen human nature, and are all of them alive in our ownselves, till we are dead to all the spirit and tempers of this world. They are every where, in every soul, where the heavenly nature, and the Spirit of the holy Jesus is not. But when the human soul turns from itself, and turns to God, dies to itself, and lives to God in the Spirit, tempers, and inclinations of the holy Jesus, loving, pitying, suffering, and praying for all its enemies, and overcoming all evil with good, as Christ did; then, but not till then, are these monsters separate from it.

This, Academicus, is the fallen human nature, which is alive in every one, though in various manners, till he is born again. To think therefore of any religion, or to pretend to real holiness without dying to this old man, is building castles in the air; and can bring forth nothing, but Satan in the form of an angel of light. Would you know, Academicus, whence it is, that so many false spirits have appeared in the world, who have deceived themselves and others with false fire, and false light? It is this; they endeavoured to have turned to God, without turning from themselves; would be alive in God, before they were dead to their own nature; a thing as impossible in itself, as for a grain of wheat to be alive before it dies.

Now religion in the hands of corrupt nature, serves only to discover vices of a worse kind, than in nature left to itself. Hence are all the disorderly passions of religious men, which burn in a worse flame, than passions only employed about worldly matters; pride, hatred, and persecution, under a cloak of religious zeal, will sanctify actions, which nature, left to itself, would start at.

Observe, Sir, the difference which cloaths make in those, who have it in their power to dress as they please: some are all for shew, colours, and glitters; others are quite fantastical and affected in their dress: some have a grave and solemn habit; others are quite simple and plain in the whole manner. But all this difference of dress is only an outward difference, that covers the same poor carcase, and leaves it full of all its own infirmities. Now all the truths of the gospel, when possessed by the old man, make just such a difference as is made by cloaths. Some put on a solemn, formal, prudent, outside carriage; others appear in all the glitter and shew of religious colouring, and spiritual attainments; but under all this outside difference, there lies the poor soul, unhelped, in its own fallen state. And, it is not possible to be otherwise, till the spiritual life begins at the true root, grows out of death, and is born in a broken heart. Self-contempt, and self-denial, are as suitable to this new-born spirit, as self-esteem, and self-seeking to the unregenerate man. Let me, therefore, my friend, conjure you, not to look forward, or cast about for spiritual advancement, till you have rightly taken this first step in the spiritual life. All your future progress depends upon it: for sin has its root in the bottom of your soul, it comes to life with your flesh and blood, and breathes in the breath of your natural life; and therefore, till you die to nature, you live to sin; and whilst this root of sin, is alive in you, all the virtues you put on, are only like fine painted fruit hung on a dead tree.

Academicus. But how am I to take this first step, which you so much insist upon?

Theophilus. You are to turn wholly from yourself, and to give up yourself wholly unto God,¹
in this or the like manner.

¹ Amazing! First step! It is the very highest attainment of the greatest saint under heaven.

*“Oh my God, with all the strength of my soul, assisted by thy grace, I desire and resolve to resist and deny all my own will, earthly tempers, selfish views, and inclinations; every thing that the spirit of this world, and the vanity of fallen nature, prompt me to. I give myself up wholly unto thee, to be all thine, to have, and do, and be, inwardly and outwardly, according to thy good pleasure. I desire to live for no other ends, with no other
designs, but to accomplish the work which thou requirest of me, an humble, obedient, faithful, thankful instrument in thy hands, ♦to
be used as thou pleasest.”

*You are not to content yourself with now and then making this oblation of yourself to God. It must be the daily, the hourly exercise of your mind; till it is wrought into your very nature, and becomes an essential state of your mind, till you feel yourself as habitually turned from all your own will, selfish ends, and earthly desires, as you are from stealing and murder; till the whole turn and bent of your spirit points as constantly to God, as the needle touched with the loadstone does to the north. This, Sir, is your first¹ step in the spiritual life; this is the key to all the treasures of heaven; this unlocks the sealed book of your soul, and makes room for the light and Spirit of God to arise up in it. Without this, the spiritual life is but spiritual talk, and only assists nature to be pleased with a fancied holiness.

¹ Not so: it is not the threshold, but the whole building.

You may perhaps think this an hard saying. But do not go away sorrowful, like the young man in the gospel. I shall now leave you to consider, whether you will give up all the wealth of the old man for this heavenly pearl. I do not expect your answer now, but will stay for it till to-morrow.

But pray, gentlemen, who is this Humanus? I do not remember to have seen him before: he seems not willing to speak, yet is often biting his lips at what is said.

Rusticus. This Humanus, Sir, is my neighbour; but so ignorant of the nature of the gospel, that he is often trying to persuade me into a disbelief of it. I say ignorant (though he is a learned man) because I am well assured, that no man ever did or can oppose the gospel, but through a total ignorance of what it is in itself: for the gospel, when rightly understood, is irresistible: it brings more good news to the human nature, than sight to the blind, limbs to the lame, health to the sick, or liberty to the condemned slave. But this neighbour of mine has never yet been in sight of the real gospel; he knows nothing of it, but what he has picked up out of the books that have been written against it, and for it.

But this is enough concerning the man. He comes with me at his own desire, and upon promise, not to interrupt our conversation; but to be a silent hearer, till it is all over. And therefore, if you please, Sir, I beg our conversation may for a while turn upon the chief points of religion, that he may hear the whole nature, the necessity and blessedness of the Christian redemption.

*Theophilus. Your neighbour is welcome, and I pray God to give him an heart attentive to those truths, which have made so good an impression upon you. Your friend Humanus lays claim to a religion of nature and reason: I join with him, with all my heart. No other religion can be right but that which has its foundation in nature. For the God of nature can require nothing of his creatures, but what the state of their nature calls them to. Nature is his great law, that speaks his whole will both in heaven and on earth; and to obey nature, is to obey the God of nature; to please him, and to live to him, in the highest perfection. God indeed has many after-laws; but it is after his creatures have fallen from nature, and lost its perfection. But all these after-laws have no other end or intention, but to repair nature, and bring men back to their first natural state of perfection. What say you now, Academicus, to all these matters?

*Academicus. You know, how these matters have affected me, ever since I read some books lately published. From that time, I have seen things in such a newness of light, as makes me take my former knowledge for a dream. A dream I may justly say, since all my labour was taken up in teaching into a seventeen hundred years history of doctrines, disputes, decrees, heresies, schisms, and sects, wherever to be found, in Europe, Asia, and Africa. From this goodly heap of stuff crouded into my mind, I have been settling matters betwixt all the present Christian divisions both at home and abroad, according to the best rules of criticism; having little or no other idea of a religious man, than that of a stiff maintainer of certain points against all those that oppose them. And in this respect, I believe I may say, that I only swam away in the common torrent.

*And in this laborious dream I had in all likelihood ended my days; had not those books shewn me, that religion lay nearer home. But however, though I seem to be entered into a region of light, yet I must not forget to tell you, what some of my friends say: that in those books, there are many things asserted, which have not scripture to support them.

Theophilus. Is there not some reason Academicus, to take this objection of your learned friends to be a mere pretence? For what is more fully grounded upon scripture, than the doctrine of a real regeneration? And yet the plain letter of scripture, upon the most important of all points, the very life and essence of our redemption, is not only overlooked, but openly opposed, by the generality of men of sober learning. But this point has not only the plain letter of scripture for it; but what the letter asserts, is absolutely required by the whole spirit and tenor of the New Testament. All the epistles of the apostles proceed upon the supposed certainty of this one great point.

A Son of God, united with, and born in, our nature, that his nature may be produced in us; an holy Spirit, breathing in our souls, ♦quickening
the dead in sin, is the letter and spirit of the
apostles writings: grounded upon the plain letter of our Lord’s own words, that unless we are born again of water, and the Spirit we cannot see the kingdom of heaven.

Again: Is not the plain letter of scripture, that Adam died the day that he did eat of the earthly tree? Have we not the most solemn asseveration of God for the truth of this? Was not the change which Adam found in himself, a demonstration of the truth of this fact? Instead of the image and likeness of God which he was created, he was stript of all his glory, afraid of being seen, and unable to see himself uncovered; delivered up a slave to the rage of all the elements of this world, not knowing which way to look, or what to do in a world, where he was dead to all that he formerly felt, and alive only to a new and dreadful feeling of heat and cold, shame and fear, and horrible remorse of mind, at his said entrance in a world, whence God and his own glory, was departed. Death enough surely!

Death in its highest reality, a much greater change, than when an animal of flesh and blood is only changed into a cold lifeless carcase.

A death, that in all nature has none equal to it, none of the same nature with it, but that which the angels died, when, from angels of God, they became living devils, and slaves to darkness. Say that the angels lost no life, that they did not die a real death, because they are
yet alive in the horrors of darkness; and then you may say, with the same truth, that Adam did not die when he lost God, and the first glory of his creation, because he ♦afterwards
breathed in a world which was outwardly, in all its parts, full of the same curse that was within himself. But farther, not only the plain text, and the change of state which Adam found in himself, demonstrated a real death to his former state; but the whole tenor of scripture requires it; all the system of our redemption proceeds upon it. For what need of redemption, if Adam had not lost his first state? What need of the Deity to enter again into the human nature, not only as acting, but being born in it? What need of all this mysterious method to bring the life from above again into man, if the life from above had not been lost? It is true indeed that Adam, in his death to the divine life, was left in the possession of an earthly life. But ’tis wonderful that any man should imagine Adam did not die on the day of his sin, because he had as good a life left in him as the beasts of the field have.

For is this the life, or is the death that such animals die, the life and death with which our redemption is concerned? Are not all the scriptures full of a life and death of a much higher kind? What ground or reason then can there be to think of the death of an animal of this world, when we read of the death that Adam was to die the day of his sin? For does not all that befel him on the day of his sin shew that he lost a much greater life, suffered a more dreadful change, than that of giving up the breath of this world? For in the day of his sin, this angel of paradise; this Lord of the new creation, fell from the throne of his glory (like Lucifer from heaven) into the state of a poor, naked, distressed animal of flesh and blood; inwardly and outwardly feeling the curse in himself, and all the creation; and reduced to have only the faith of the devils, to believe and tremble. Proof enough, surely, that Adam was dead to the life of God; and that, with his death, all that was divine and heavenly in his soul, was quite at an end. Now this life to which Adam then died, is that life which all his posterity are in want of. And is there any reason to say, that mankind, in their natural state, are not dead to that first life in which Adam was created, because they are alive to this world? Yet this is as well as to say, that Adam did not die a real death, because he had afterwards an earthly life in him. How comes our Lord to say, that unless ye eat the flesh and drink the blood of the Son of Man, ye have no life in you? Did he mean, ye have no earthly life in you? How comes the apostle to say, he that hath the Son of God has life, but he that hath not the Son of God hath not life? Does he mean the life of this world? No. But both Christ and his apostles assert this great truth, that all mankind are in the state of Adam’s death, till they are made alive again by the Son and Holy Spirit. So plain is it, both from the letter and spirit of scripture, that Adam died a real death to the kingdom of God in the day of his sin. Take away this death, and all the scheme of our redemption has no ground left to stand upon.

For without the reality of a new birth, founded on a real death in the fall of Adam, the Christian scheme is but a skeleton of empty words, a detail of strange mysteries between God and man, that do nothing, and have nothing to do.

Oh Academicus, what a blindness there is in the world! What a stir is there among mankind about religion, and yet almost all seem to be afraid of that, in which alone is salvation!

Poor mortals! What is the one desire of your hearts? What is it that you call happiness, and matter of rejoicing? Is it not when every thing about you helps you to stand upon higher ground, and gratifies every pride of life? And yet life itself is the loss of every thing, unless pride be overcome. Oh stop awhile in contemplation of this great truth. It is a truth as unchangeable as God; it is written and spoken thro’ all nature; heaven and earth, fallen angels, and redeemed men, all bear witness to it. The truth is this: Pride must die in you, or nothing of heaven can live in you. Under the banner of this truth, give up yourselves to the meek and humble Spirit of the holy Jesus. This is the one way, the one truth, and the one life. There is no other door into the sheepfold of God. Every thing else is the working of the devil in the fallen nature of man. Humility must sow the seed, or there can be no reaping in heaven. Look not at pride only as an unbecoming temper; or humility only as a decent virtue; for the one is death, and the other is life; the one is all hell, and the other is all heaven.

So much as you have of pride, so much you have of the fallen angel in you: so much as you have of true humility, so much you have of the Lamb of God. Could you see with your eyes what every stirring of pride does to your soul, you would beg of every thing you meet to tear the viper from you; tho’ with the loss of an hand or an eye. Could you see what a sweet, divine, transforming power there is in humility, how it expels the poison of your fallen nature, and makes room for the Spirit of God to live in you; you would rather wish to be the footstool of all the world, than to want the smallest degree of it. My friends, for this time, adieu!

The Second Dialogue.

Theophilus.FROM
this view of things, we see ♦a
spirit of longing after the life of this world, made Adam and us to be the poor pilgrims on earth that we are; so the spirit of prayer, or the longing desire of the heart after Christ, and God, and heaven, raises us out of the miseries of time into the riches of eternity. Thus seeing and knowing our first and our present state, every thing calls us to prayer; and the desire of our heart becomes the spirit of prayer. And when the spirit of prayer is in us, then prayer is no longer considered as only the business of this or that hour, but is the continual panting or breathing of the heart after God. Its petitions are not picked out of manuals of devotion; it loves its own language; it speaks most when it says least. If you ask what its words are, they are spirit, they are life, they are love, that unite with God.

Academicus. I apprehend, Sir, that what you here say of the spirit of prayer, will be taken by some for a censure upon hours and forms of prayer; tho’ I know you have no such meaning.

Rusticus. Pray let me speak again to Academicus: His learning seems to be always upon the watch, to find out some excuse for not receiving the
whole truth. Does not Theophilus here speak of the spirit of prayer, as a state of the heart, which is become the governing principle of the soul? And if it is a living state of the heart, must it not have its life in itself, independent of every outward time and occasion? And yet must it not, at the same time, be that alone which disposes the heart to delight in hours, and times, and occasions of prayer? Suppose he had said, that honesty is an inward living principle of the heart, a rectitude of the mind, that has all its life and strength within itself. Could this be thought to censure all times and occasions of performing outward acts of honesty? Now the spirit of prayer differs from all outward acts and forms of prayer, just as the honesty of the heart, or a living rectitude of mind, differs from outward and occasional acts of honesty. And yet should a man disregard times and occasions of outward acts of honesty, on pretence that true honesty was an inward living principle; who would not see that such a one had as little of the inward spirit, as of the outward acts of honesty? St.
John saith, If any man hath this world’s goods, and seeth his brother hath need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion to him, how dwelleth the love of God in him? Just so, it may be said, if a man neglects times and hours of prayer, how dwelleth the spirit of prayer in him? And yet, its own life and spirit is vastly superior to, and stays for no particular hours, or forms of words. And in this
sense it is truly said, that it has its own language; that it wants not to pick words out of manuals of devotion, but is always speaking forth spirit and life, and love towards God. But pray, Theophilus, do you go on as you intended.

*Theophilus. I shall only add, before we pass on to another point, that, from what has been said, it plainly follows, that the sin of all sins, or the heresy of all heresies, is a worldly spirit. We are apt to consider this temper only as an infirmity, or pardonable failure; but it is indeed the great apostasy from God, and the divine life. It is not a single sin, but the whole nature of sin, that leaves no possibility of coming out of our fallen state, till it be renounced with all the strength of our hearts. Every sin, be it of what kind it will, is only a branch of the worldly spirit that lives in us. There is but one that is good, saith our Lord, and that is God. In the same strictness of expression it must be said, there is but one life that is good, and that is the life of God and heaven. Depart in the least degree from the goodness of God, and you depart into evil; because nothing is good but his goodness.

Chuse any life, but the life of God and heaven, and you chuse death; for death is nothing else but the loss of the life of God. The creatures of this world have but one life, and that is the life of this world: this is their one life, and one good. Eternal beings have but one life, and one good; and that is the life of God. God could
not create man to have a will of his own, and a life of his own, different from the life and will that is in himself; this is more impossible than for a good tree to bring forth corrupt fruit. God can only delight in his own life, his own goodness, and his own perfections; and therefore cannot love, or delight, or dwell in any creatures, but where his own goodness and perfections are to be found. Like can only unite with like, heaven with heaven, and hell with hell; and therefore the life of God must be the life of the soul, if the soul is to unite with God. Hence it is, that all the methods of our redemption have only this one end, to take from us that earthly life we have gotten by the fall, and to kindle again the life of God and heaven in our souls. Not to deliver us from that gross and sordid vice called coveteousness, which Heathens can condemn, but to take the whole spirit of this world entirely from us; because all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father; that is, is not that life, which we had from God by our creation; but is of this world; is brought into us by our fall from God into the life of this world. And therefore a worldly spirit is not to be considered as a single sin; but as a state of real death to the kingdom and life of God in our souls. Management, prudence, or an artful trimming betwixt God and mammon, are here all in vain; it is not only the grossness of an outward,
worldly behaviour, but the spirit, the prudence, the wisdom of this world, that is our separation from the life of God.

Hold this therefore, Academicus, as a certain truth, that the heresy of all heresies is a worldly spirit. It is the whole nature and misery of our fall; it keeps up the death of our souls; and, so long as it lasts, makes it impossible for us to be born again. It is the greatest blindness and darkness of our nature, and keeps us in the grossest ignorance both of heaven and hell. For we feel neither the one nor the other, so long as the spirit of this world reigns in us. Light, and truth, and the gospel, so far as they concern eternity, are all empty sounds to the worldly spirit. His own good, and his own evil, govern all his hopes and fears; and therefore he can have no religion, farther than as it can be made serviceable to the life of this world. Publicans and Harlots are all of the spirit of this world; but its highest birth are Scribes, the Pharisees, and Hypocrites, who turn godliness into gain, and serve God for the sake of mammon; these live, and move, and have their being in and from the spirit of this world.――Of all things therefore my friends, detest the spirit of this world, or you must live and die an utter stranger to all that is divine and heavenly. You will go out of the world in the same poverty and death in which you entered into it. For a worldly spirit can know nothing, feel nothing, taste nothing, delight in nothing but with earthly senses, and after an earthly manner. The natural man, saith the apostle, receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God, they are foolishness unto him. He cannot know them, because they are spiritually discerned; that is, they can only be discerned by that Spirit, which he hath not. Now the true reason of the absolute impossibility of the natural man, how polite, and learned, and acute soever he be, is this; so far as our life reaches, so far we understand, and feel, and know, and no farther. All after this is, only the play of our imagination, amusing itself with the dead pictures of its own ideas. Now this is all that the natural man can possibly do with the things of God. He can only contemplate them as so many dead ideas, that he receives from books, or hearsay; and so can learnedly dispute and quarrel about them, and laugh at those as Enthusiasts, who have a living sensibility of them. He is only the worse for his dead ideas of divine truths; they become bad nourishment to all his natural tempers: he is proud of his ability to discourse about them, and loses all humility, thro’ a vain and haughty contention for them. His zeal for religion is envy and wrath, his orthodoxy is pride and obstinacy, his love of the truth is hatred and ill-will to those who dare to dissent from him. This is the constant effect of the religion of the natural man, who is under the dominion of the spirit of this world. He cannot make a better use of his knowledge than this; and all for this plain reason, because he stands at the same distance from a living sensibility of the truth, as the man that is born blind, does from a living sensibility of light.

Academicus. You know, Sir, that in the morning you told me of a first step, that must be the beginning of a spiritual life; you gave me till to-morrow to speak my mind and resolution about it. But you have now extorted my answer from me: with all the strength that I have, I turn from every thing that is not God, and his holy will; with all the desire of my heart, I give up myself wholly to the light and Holy Spirit of God; pleased with nothing in this world, but as it gives time and place, and occasions of doing and being that, which my heavenly Father would have me to do and be; seeking for no happiness from this earthly fallen life, but that of overcoming all its spirit and tempers. But I believe, Theophilus, you had something farther to say.

Theophilus. Indeed, Academicus, there is hardly any knowing when one has said enough of the evil effects of a worldly spirit. It is the canker that eateth up all the fruits of our other good tempers; it leaves no degree of goodness in them, but transforms all that we are to do, into its own earthly nature. The philosophers of old, began all their virtue in a total renunciation of the spirit of this world. They saw with the eyes of heaven, that darkness was not more contrary to light, than the wisdom of this world to the spirit of virtue; therefore they allowed of no progress in virtue, but so far as a man had overcome himself, and the spirit of this world.

But the doctrine of the cross of Christ, the last, the highest, the most finishing stroke given to the spirit of this world, that speaks more in one word than all the philosophy of voluminous writers, is yet professed by those, who are in more friendship with the world than was allowed to the disciples of Pythagoras, Socrates, Plato, or Epictetus.

Nay, if those antient sages were to start up among us with their divine wisdom, they would bid fair to be treated by the sons of the gospel, if not by some fathers of the church, as dreaming enthusiasts.

But, Academicus, this is a standing truth, the world can only love its own, and wisdom can only be justified of her children. The heaven-born Epictetus told one of his scholars, that then he might first look upon himself, as having made some true proficiency in virtue, when the world took him for a fool; an oracle like that, which said, The wisdom of this world is foolishness with God.

If you was to ask me, whence is all the degeneracy of the present Christian church, I should place it all in a worldly spirit. If here you see open wickedness, there only forms of godliness; if here superficial holiness, political piety, crafty prudence; there haughty sanctity, partial zeal, envious orthodoxy; if almost every where you see a Jewish blindness, and hardness of heart, and the church trading with the gospel, as visibly, as the old Jews bought and sold beasts in their temple; all this is only so many forms and proper fruits of the worldly spirit. This is the great net, with which the devil becomes a fisher of men; and be assured of this, that every son of man is in this net, till, thro’ the Spirit of Christ, he breaks out of it.

I say the Spirit of Christ, for nothing else can deliver him from it. Trust to any kind, or form of religious observances, to any number of the most plausible virtues, to any kinds of learning, or efforts of human prudence, and I will tell you what your case will be; you will overcome one temper of the world, merely by cleaving to another. For nothing leaves the world, nothing can possibly overcome it, but the Spirit of Christ. Hence it is, that many learned men, with all the rich furniture of their brain, live and die slaves to the spirit of this world; and can only differ from gross worldlings, as the Scribes and Pharisees differ from Publicans and Sinners: it is because the Spirit of Christ is not the one thing that is the desire of their hearts; and therefore their learning only works with the spirit of this world, and becomes itself no small part of the vanity of vanities. Would you farther know, the evil effects of a worldly spirit, you need only look at the blessed effects of the spirit of prayer; for the one goes downwards with the same strength as the other goes upwards; the one weds you to an earthly nature, as the other unites you to Christ, and God, and heaven. The spirit of prayer is a pressing forth of the soul out of this earthly life; it is a stretching with all its desire after the life of God; it is a leaving, as far as it can, all its own spirit, to receive a spirit from above, to be one life, one love, one Spirit with Christ in God. This prayer, which is an emptying itself of all its own natural tempers, and an opening itself for the love of God to enter into it, is the prayer in the name of Christ, to which nothing is denied. For the love which God bears to the soul, his eternal, never-ceasing desire to enter into it, dwell in it, stays no longer, than till the door of the heart opens for him. For nothing can keep God out of the soul, or hinder his union with it, but the desire of the heart turned from him.

A will, given up to earthly goods, is at grass with Nebuchadnezzar, and has one life with the beasts of the field: for earthly desires keep up the same life in a man and an ox. When therefore a man wholly turneth his will to earthly desires, he dies to the excellency of his natural state, and may be said only to live, and move, and have
his being in the life of this world, as the beasts have. Earthy food, only desired and used for the support of the earthly body, is suitable to a man’s present condition, and the order of nature: but when the desire of the soul is set upon earthly things, then the humanity is degraded, is fallen from God; and the life of the soul is made as earthly and bestial, as the life of the body.

*And this is to be noted well, that death can make no alteration in this state of the will; it only takes off the outward covering of flesh and blood, and forces the soul to see, and feel, and know, what a life, what a state, food, body, and habitation, its own will has brought forth for it. Oh Academicus, stop awhile, and let your hearing be turned into feeling. Tell me, is there any thing in life that deserves a thought, but how to keep our will in a right state, and to get that purity of heart, which alone can see, and know, and find, and possess God? Is there any thing so frightful as this worldly spirit, which turns the soul from God, makes it an house of darkness, and feeds it with the food of time, at the expence of all the riches of eternity.

On the other hand, what can be so desirable a good as the spirit of prayer, which empties the soul of all its evil; separates death and darkness from it; leaves time and the world; and becomes one life, one light, one Spirit with Christ and God?

Think, my friends, of these things, with something more than thoughts; let your hungry souls eat of the nourishment of them; and desire only to live, that with the whole spirit of your minds, you may live and die united to God; and thus let this conversation end, till God gives us another meeting.

The Third Dialogue.

Rusticus. I HAVE brought again with me, gentlemen, my silent friend Humanus, and upon the same condition of being silent still. But tho’ his silence is the same, yet he is quite altered. For these twenty years I have known him to be of an even, chearful temper, full of good-nature, and even quite calm and dispassionate in his attacks upon Christianity; never provoked by what was said either against his infidelity, or in defence of the gospel. He used to boast of his being free from those four passions, which, he said, were so easy to be seen, in most defenders of the gospel-meekness. But now he is morose, peevish, and full of chagrin; and seems to be as uneasy with himself, as with every body else. I tell him, but he will not own it, that his case is this: the truth has touched him, but it is only so far, as to be his tormentor. It is only as welcome to him, as a thief that has taken from him all his riches, goods, and armour, wherein he trusted. The Christianity he used to oppose is vanished; and therefore all the weapons he had against it, are dropt out of his hands. It now appears to stand upon another ground, to have a better nature, than what he imagined; and therefore he, and his scheme of infidelity, are quite disconcerted. But tho’ his arguments have lost their strength, his heart is left in the state it was; it stands in the same opposition to Christianity as it did before, and yet without any ideas of his brain to support it. And this is the true ground of his present, uneasy, peevish state of mind. He has nothing now to subsist upon, but the resolute hardness of his heart, his pride and obstinacy. Tho’ it is with some reluctance, yet I have chosen thus to make my neighbour known both to himself, and to you, that you may speak of such matters as may give the best relief to the state he is in.

Theophilus. His trial is the greatest and hardest that belongs to human nature: and yet it is absolutely necessary to be undergone.

*Nature must become a torment and burden to itself, before it can willingly give itself up to that death, thro’ which alone it can pass into life. There is no real conversion, whether it be from infidelity, or any other life of sin, till a man comes to know, and feel, that nothing less than his whole nature is to be parted with, and yet finds in himself no possibility of doing it. This is the despair by which we lose all our own life, to find a new one in God. For here, in this place it is, that faith, and hope, and true seeking to Christ, are born. But till all is lost that we had any trust in; faith and hope, and turning to God in prayer, are only things practised by rule and method; but they are not in us, till we have done feeling any trust or confidence in ourselves. Happy therefore is it for your friend, that every thing is taken from him in which he trusted. In this state, one sigh or look to God for help, would be the beginning of his salvation. Let us therefore try to improve this happy moment to him, not so much by arguments, as by the arrows of divine love.

*For Humanus, tho’ hitherto without Christ, is still within the reach of divine love: he belongs to God; God created him for himself, to be an habitation of his own Spirit; and God has brought him and us together, that the lost sheep may be found, and brought back to its heavenly shepherd.

Oh Humanus, love is my bait: you must be caught by it; it will put its hook into your heart, and force you to know, that of all strong things, nothing is so strong, so irresistible, as divine love.

It brought forth all the creation; it kindles all the life of heaven; it is the song of all the angels of God. It has redeemed all the world: it seeks
for every sinner upon earth; it embraces all the enemies of God; and, from the beginning to the end of time, the one work of providence, is the one work of love.

Moses and the prophets, Christ and his apostles, were all of them messengers of divine love. They came to kindle a fire on earth, and the fire was the love which burns in heaven. Ask what God is? His name is love; he is the good, the perfection, the joy, the glory, and blessing of heaven and earth. Ask what Christ is? He is the universal remedy of all evil; he is the destruction of misery, sin, death, and hell. He is the resurrection and life of all fallen nature. He is the unwearied compassion, the long-suffering pity, the never-ceasing mercifulness of God to every want and infirmity of human nature.

He is the breathing forth of the heart, and Spirit of God, into all the dead race of Adam. He is the seeker, the finder, the restorer, of all that was lost and dead to the life of God. He is the love, that, from Cain to the end of time, prays for all its murderers; the love that willingly suffers and dies among thieves, that thieves may have a life with him in paradise: The love that visits publicans, harlots, and sinners, that wants and seeks to forgive, where most is to be forgiven.

Oh, my friends, let us surround and incompass Humanus with these flames of love, till he cannot make his escape from them, but must become a willing victim to their power. For the universal God is universal love; all is love, but that which is hellish and earthly. All religion is the spirit of love; all its gifts and graces are the gifts and graces of love; it has no breath, no life, but the life of love. Nothing exalts, nothing purifies, but the fire of love; nothing changes death into life, earth into heaven, men into angels, but love alone. Love breathes the Spirit of God; its words and works are the inspiration of God. It speaketh not of itself, but the word, the eternal word of God speaketh in it; for all that love speaketh, that God speaketh, because love is God. Love is heaven revealed in the soul; it is light, and truth, it has no errors, for all errors are the want of love. Love has no more of pride, than light has of darkness; it stands and bears all its fruits from a depth of humility. Love is no sect or party; it neither makes, nor admits of any bounds; you may as easily inclose the light, or shut up the air, as confine love to a sect or party. It lives in the liberty, the universality, and impartiality, of heaven. It believes in one, holy, catholic God, the God of all spirits; it joins with the catholic Spirit of the one God, who unites with all that is good, and is meek, patient, well-wishing, and long-suffering over all the evil that is in nature. Love, like the Spirit of God, rideth upon the wings of the wind; and is in communion with all the saints that are in heaven and on earth. Love is quite pure; it hath no by-ends; it seeks not its own; it has but one will, and that is, to give itself into every thing, and overcome all evil with good. Lastly, love cometh down from heaven; it regenerateth the soul from above; it blotteth out all transgressions; it taketh from death its sting, from the devil his power, and from the serpent his poison. It healeth all the infirmities of our earthly birth; it gives eyes to the blind, ears to the deaf, and makes the dumb to speak; it cleanses the lepers, and casts out devils, and puts man in paradise before he dies. It liveth wholly to the will of him, of whom it is born; its meat and drink is, to do the will of God. It is the resurrection and life of every divine virtue, a fruitful mother of true humility, boundless benevolence, unwearied patience, and bowels of compassion. This Rusticus, is the religion of divine love, the true church of God, where the life of God is found, and lived, and to which your friend Humanus is called by us. We direct him to nothing but the inward life of Christ, to the working of the Holy Spirit of God, which alone can deliver him from the evil that is in his own nature, and give him a power to become a Son of God.

Rusticus. My neighbour has infinite reason to thank you, for this lovely draught you have given of the spirit of religion. But pray let us now hear, how we are to enter into this love, or rather what God has done to introduce us into it.

Theophilus. The beginning of this redeeming love of God, is in that Immanuel, or God with us, given to the first Adam, as the seed of the woman, which in him, and his posterity, should bruise the head and overcome the life of the serpent. This is love indeed, because it is universal, and reaches from the first to the last man. Miserably as mankind are divided, and all at war with one another, every one appropriating God to themselves, yet they all have but one God, who is the Spirit of all, the life of all, and the lover of all. Men may divide themselves, to have God to themselves; they may hate and persecute one another for God’s sake; but this is a blessed truth, that God with an unalterable meekness, sweetness, patience, and good-will towards all, waits for all, calls them all, redeems them all, and comprehends all in the outstretched arms of his ♦catholic love. Ask not therefore how we shall enter into this religion of salvation; we have not far to go to find it. It is every man’s own treasure; it is a root of heaven, a seed of God, sown into our souls; and, like a small grain of mustard-seed, has a power of growing to be a tree of life. Here my friend, you should once for all, observe, where and what the true nature of religion is, its place is within; its work and effect is within: its glory, its life, its perfection, is all within; it is the raising a new life and new love in us. This was the spiritual nature of religion in its beginning, and this is its whole nature to the end of time; it is nothing else but the power, and life, and Spirit of God, as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, creating and reviving life in the fallen soul, and driving all its evil out of it.

Here therefore we are come to this firm conclusion, that let religion have ever so many shapes, forms, or reformations, it is no true divine service, no proper worship of God, but so far as it serves, worships, conforms, and gives itself up to this operation of the holy, triune God, as living and dwelling in the soul. Keep close to this idea of religion, as an inward spiritual life in the soul; observe all its works within you, the death and life that are found there; seek for no good, no comfort, but in the awakening of all that is holy and heavenly in your heart; and then, so much as you have of this inward religion, so much you have of a real salvation. For salvation is only a victory over nature; so far as you resist and renounce your own selfish and earthly nature, so far as you overcome all your own natural tempers, so far God lives and operates in you; he is the light, the life, and the spirit of your soul; and you worship him in spirit and in truth. For nothing worships God, but the Spirit of Christ his beloved Son, in whom he is well pleased. This is as true, as that no man hath known the Father but the Son, and he to whom the Son revealeth him. Look now at any thing as religion, but a strict conformity to the life and Spirit of Christ; and then, tho’ every day was full of burnt-offerings, and sacrifices, yet you would be only like those religionists, who drew near to God with their lips, but their hearts were far from him.

For the heart is always far from God, unless the Spirit of Christ be in it. But no one has the living Spirit of Christ, but he, who in all his conversation walketh as he walked. Consider these words of the apostle, My little children, of whom I travail in birth, till Christ be formed in you. This is the sum total of all, and, if this is wanting, all is wanting. Thus saith he, If any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his; nay, tho’ he could say of himself, (as our Lord says many will) Have I not prophesied in the name of Christ, cast out devils, and done many wonderful works? Yet such a one not being led by the Spirit of Christ, is that very man, whose high state the apostle makes to be a mere nothing, because he hath not that spirit of charity, which is the Spirit of Christ. Again, There is no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus; therefore to be in Christ Jesus, is to have that spirit of charity, which is the spirit and life of all virtues. Now here you are to observe, that the apostle no more rejects all outward religion, when he says circumcision is nothing, than he rejects prophesying, and faith, and alms-giving, when he says they profit nothing; he only teaches this solid truth, that the kingdom of God is within us, and that it all conflicts in the state of our heart; and that therefore all our outward observances, all the most specious virtues, profit nothing, are of no value, unless the hidden man of the heart, the Spirit of Christ, be the doer of them.

Thus, says he, They who are led by the Spirit of God, are the sons of God. And therefore none else, be they who, or where, or what they will, clergy or laity, none are, or can be, sons of God, but they who give up themselves to the leading and guidance of the Spirit of God, desiring to be moved, inspired, and governed solely by it. Indeed all scripture brings us to this conclusion, that all religion is but a dead work, unless it be the work of the Spirit of God; and that sacraments, prayers, singing, preaching, hearing, are only so many ways of giving up ourselves more and more to the inward working, enlightening, quickening, sanctifying Spirit of God; and for this end, that the curse of the fall may be swallowed up in victory; and a true, real, Christ-like nature formed in us, by the same Spirit, by which it was formed in the holy Virgin Mary. Now for the absolute necessity of this turning wholly to God, the spirit of Satan, or the spirit of this world, are, and must be, the one or the other of them, the continual leader, guide, and inspirer of every thing that lives in nature. The moment you cease to be moved, inspired by God, you are moved and directed by the spirit of Satan, or the world, or both. *As creatures, we are under an absolute necessity of being under the guidance and inspiration of some spirit, that is greater than our own. All that is in our power, is only the choice of our leader; but led and moved we must be, and that by the Spirit of God, or the spirit of fallen nature. To seek therefore to be always under the inspiration and guidance of God’s Holy Spirit, and to act by an immediate power from it, is not enthusiasm, but as sober a thought, as to think of renouncing the world and the devil. For they never can be renounced by us, but so far as the Spirit of God is living, breathing, and moving in us.

Academicus. You have taken from me every difficulty or perplexity that I had. It now appears to me with the utmost clearness, that to look for salvation in any thing else, but the Spirit of God working in us, is to be as carnally minded, as ignorant of God and salvation as the Jews were, when their hearts were set upon the glory of their temple-service, and a temporal saviour to defend it, by a temporal power. For every thing but the Spirit of God forming Christ in the soul, has and can have no more of salvation in it, than a temporal, fighting saviour. Upon this ground I stand in the utmost certainty, looking wholly to the Spirit of God for an inward redemption from all the inward evil that is in my fallen nature. All that I now want to know is this, what I am to do, to procure this continual operation of the Spirit of God within me.

Theophilus. Ask not Academicus, what you are to do to obtain the Spirit of God; for your measure of receiving it, is just according to your faith and desire to be led by it. For to this faith, all things are possible, to which all nature, tho’ as high as mountains, and as stiff as oaks, must yield and obey. It heals all diseases, breaks the bands of death, and calls the dead out of their graves.

It is strictly true, that man’s salvation dependeth upon himself; and it is as strictly true, that all the work of his salvation, is solely the work of God in his soul. All his salvation dependeth upon himself, because his will has its power of motion in itself. As a will, it can only receive that which it willeth; every thing else is absolutely shut out of it. For it is the unalterable nature of the will, that it cannot possibly receive any thing into it, but that which it willeth; its willing is its only power of receiving; and therefore there can be no possible entrance for God or heaven into the soul, till the will of the soul desireth it; and thus all man’s salvation dependeth upon himself. On the other hand, nothing can create, effect, the divine life in the soul, but that Spirit of God, which brings forth the divine life in heaven. And thus the work of our salvation is wholly and solely the work of God, dwelling and operating in us. Thus, you see that God is all; that nothing but his life and working-power in us, can be our salvation; and yet that nothing but the spirit of prayer can make it possible for us to have it. And therefore neither you, nor any other human soul, can be without the operation of the Spirit of God in it, but because its will or its spirit of prayer is turned towards something else; for we are always in union with that, with which our will is united. Again: Look at the light and air of this world, you see with what a freedom of communication they overflow and enliven every thing; they enter every where, if not hindered by something that withstands their entrance. This may represent to you the ever-overflowing, free communication of the light and Spirit of God, to every human soul. They are every where; we are encompassed with them; our souls are as near to them, as our bodies are to the light and air of this world; nothing shuts them out of us, but the will and desire of our souls turned from them, and praying for something else. I say, praying for something else; for you are to notice this as a certain truth, that every man’s life is a continual state of prayer; he is no moment free from it, nor can possibly be so. For all our natural tempers, be they what they will, ambition, covetousness, selfishness, worldly-mindedness, pride, envy, hatred, malice, or any other lust whatever, are all of them in reality only so many different forms of a spirit of prayer, which is as inseparable from the heart, as weight is from the body. For every natural temper is a manifestation of the desire and prayer of the heart, and shews us, how it works and wills. And as the heart worketh, and willeth, such, and no other, is its prayer. All else is only form and fiction, and empty beating of the air. If therefore the desire of the heart is not habitually turned towards God, we are necessarily in a state of prayer towards something else, that carries us from God. For this is the necessity of our nature; pray we must, as sure as we are alive; and therefore when the state of our heart is not a spirit of prayer to God, we pray without ceasing to some or other part of the creation. The man whose heart habitually tends towards the riches, honours, powers, or pleasures of this life, is in a continual state of prayer towards all these things. His spirit stands always bent towards them; they have his hope, his love, his faith, and are the many gods that he worships: And tho’ when he is upon his knees, and uses forms of prayer, he directs them to the God of heaven; yet these are in reality the gods of his heart, and in a sad sense of the words, he really worships them in spirit and in truth. Hence you may see how it comes to pass, that there is so much praying, and yet so little true piety amongst us. The bells are daily calling us to church, our closets abound with manuals of devotion, yet how little fruit! It is all for this reason, because our prayers are not our own; they are not the abundance of our own heart; are not found and felt within us, as we feel our own hunger and thirst; but are only so many borrowed forms of speech, which we use at certain times, and occasions. And therefore it is no wonder that little good comes of it. What benefit could it have been to the Pharisee, if, with an heart inwardly full of its own pride and self-exaltation, he had outwardly hung down his head, smote upon his breast, and borrowed the Publican’s words, God be merciful to me a sinner? What greater good can be expected from our saying the words of David, or singing his psalms seven times a day, if our heart hath no more of the spirit of David in it, than the heart of the Pharisee had, of the spirit of the humble Publican?

Academicus. O Theophilus, I consent to what you say; and yet I am afraid of following you: for you seem to condemn forms of prayer in public, and manuals of devotion in private.

Theophilus. Dear Academicus, abate your fright. Can you think, that I am against your praying in the words of David, or breathing his spirit in your prayers, or that I would censure your singing his psalms seven times a day? At three several times we are told, our Lord prayed, repeating the same form of words; and therefore a set form of words are not only consistent with, but may be highly suitable to, the most divine spirit of prayer. If your own heart, for days and weeks, were unable to alter, or break off from inwardly thinking and saying, Hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done; if at other times, it stood always inwardly in another form of prayer, saying, Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly, with all thy holy nature, Spirit, and tempers, into my soul; that I may be born again of thee, a new creature; I should be so far from censuring this, that I should say, Blessed are they whose hearts are tied to such a form of words. It is not therefore a set form that is spoken against, but an heartless form, a form that has no relation to, or correspondence with, the state of the heart that uses it. All that I have said is only to teach you the true nature of prayer, that it is the work of the heart, and that the heart only prays in reality (whatever its words are) for that which it habitually wills, likes, loves, and longs to have. It is not therefore the using the words of David, or any other saint, in your prayers, that is censured, but the using them without that state of heart, which first spake them forth; and the trusting to them, because they are a good form; tho’ in our hearts we have nothing that is like them. It would be good to say incessantly with holy David, My heart is athirst for God. As the hart desireth the water-brooks, so longeth my soul after thee, O God. But there is no goodness in saying daily these words, if no such thirst is felt in the heart. And, you may easily know that numbers of repeated forms, keep men content with their state, because they make use of such holy prayers; tho’ their hearts, from morning to night, are in a state quite contrary to them, and join no farther in them, than in liking to use them at certain times.

Academicus. I acquiesce, Theophilus, in the truth of what you have said, and plainly see the necessity of condemning what you have condemned; which is not the form, but the heartless form. But still I have a scruple upon me: I shall be almost afraid of going to church, where there are so many good prayers offered up to God, as suspecting they may not be the language of my own heart, and so become only a lip-labour.

Theophilus. I do not dislike your scruple at all; you do well to be afraid of saying any thing to God, which your heart does not truly say. It is also good for you to think, that many of the prayers of the church may go higher, than your heart can go along with them. For this will put you upon a right care over yourself, so to live, that, as a true son of your mother the church, your heart may be able to speak her language, and find delight in the spirit of her prayers. But this will only then come to pass, when the spirit of prayer is the spirit of your heart; then every good word, whether in a form, or out of a form, will be as suitable to your heart, as gratifying to it, as food is to the hungry, and drink to the thirsty soul. But till the spirit of the heart is thus renewed, till it is emptied of all earthly desires, and stands in an habitual hunger and thirst after God (which is the true spirit of prayer) all our forms of prayer will be, more or less, but too much like lessons that are given to scholars. But be not discouraged, Academicus; take the following advice, and you may go to church without any danger of a mere lip-labour; altho’ there should be a psalm, or a prayer, whose language is higher than that of your own heart. Do this: Go to the church, as the Publican went into the temple; stand inwardly in the spirit of your mind, in that form which he outwardly expressed, when he cast down his eyes, smote upon his breast, and could only say, God be merciful to me a sinner! Stand unchangeably (at least in your desire) in this form and state of heart; it will sanctify every petition that comes out of your mouth; and when any thing is read, or sung, or prayed, that is more exalted than your heart is, if you make this an occasion of a farther sinking down in the spirit of the Publican, you will then be helped, and highly blessed, by those prayers and praises, which seem only to fit a better heart than yours.

This, my friend, will help you to reap where you have not sown, and be a continual source of grace in your soul. This will not only help you to receive good from those prayers, which seem too good for the state of your heart, but will help you to find good from every thing else: for every thing that inwardly stirs in you, or outwardly happens to you, becomes a real good to you, if it either finds or excites in you this humble form of mind: for nothing is in vain, or without profit, to the humble soul; like the bee, it takes its honey even from bitter herbs; it stands always in a state of divine growth; and every thing that falls upon it, is like a dew of heaven to it. Shut up yourself therefore in this humility, all good is inclosed in it. Let it be as a garment wherewith you are always covered, and the girdle with which you are girt; breathe nothing but in and from its spirit; see nothing but with its eyes; hear nothing but with its ears: and then, whether you are in the church, or out of the church; hearing the praises of God, or receiving wrongs from men; all will be edification, and every thing will help forward your growth in the life of God.

Academicus. Indeed, Theophilus, this answer to my scruple is good. All my desire now is, to live no longer to the world, to myself, my natural tempers and passions, but wholly to the will of the blessed and adorable God.

*Theophilus. This resolution, Academicus, only shews that you are just come to yourself; for every thing short of this earnest desire to live wholly unto God, may be called a most dreadful infatuation or madness, and insensibility that cannot be described. For what else is our life, but a trial for the greatest evil, or good that an eternity can give us? What can be so dreadful, as to die possessed of a wicked immortal nature, or to go out of this world with tempers, that must keep us for ever miserable? What has God not done to prevent this? His redeeming love began with our fall, and calls every man to salvation, and every man is forced to hear, tho’ he will not obey his voice. God has so loved the world, that his only Son hung and expired, bleeding on the cross for us. Are we yet sons of pride, and led away with vanity? Do the powers of darkness rule over us? Do evil spirits possess and drive on our lives? Is remorse of conscience no longer felt? Are falshood, guile, debauchery, profaneness, perjury, bribery, corruption, and adultery, no longer seeking to hide themselves in corners, but openly entering into all our high places, giving battle to every virtue, and laying claim to the government of the world? Are we thus near being swallowed up by a deluge of vice and impiety? All this is not come upon us, because God has left us without help from heaven, or exposed us to the powers of hell; but because we have rejected and despised the whole mystery of our salvation, and trampled under foot the precious blood of Christ, which alone has that omnipotence that can either bring heaven into us, or drive hell out of us. O Britain, Britain, think that the Son of God saith unto thee, as he said, O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, how often would I have gathered thy children, as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not! Behold, your house is left unto you desolate. And now let me say, what aileth thee, O British earth, that thou quakest, and the foundations of thy churches that they totter? Just that same aileth thee, as ailed Judah’s earth, when the divine Saviour of the world, dying on the cross, was reviled, scorned, and mocked, by the inhabitants of Jerusalem; then the earth quaked, the rocks rent, and the sun refused to give its light. Nature again declares for God, the earth and the elements can no longer bear our sins: Jerusalem’s doom for Jerusalem’s sin, may well be feared by us. O ye miserable pens dipt in Satan’s ink, that dare to publish the folly of believing in Jesus Christ, where will you hide your guilty heads when nature dissolved, shall shew you the rainbow, on which the crucified Saviour shall sit in judgment, and every work receive its reward? O tremble! ye apostate sons, that come out of the schools of Christ, to fight Lucifer’s battles, and do that for him, which neither he, nor his legions can do for themselves. Their inward pride, malice and rage against God, and Christ, and human nature, have no pens but yours, no apostles but you. They must be forced to work in the dark, to steal privately into impure hearts, could they not beguile you into a fond belief, that you are lovers of truth, friends of reason, detectors of fraud, great genius’s, and moral philosophers, merely, because ye blaspheme Christ, and the gospel of God. Poor deluded souls, rescued from hell by the blood of Christ, called by God to possess the thrones of fallen angels, permitted to live only by the mercy of God, that ye may be born again, my heart bleeds for you. Think, I beseech you, in time, what mercies ye are trampling under your feet. Say not that reason, and your intellectual faculties, stand in your way; that these are the best gifts which God has given you, and that these suffer you not to come to Christ. All this is as vain a pretence, and as gross a mistake as if ye were to say, that you had nothing but your feet to carry you to heaven. For your heart is the best and greatest gift of God to you; it is the highest, greatest, and noblest power of your nature; it forms your whole life, be what it will; all evil and all good comes from it; your heart alone has the key of life and death; it does all that it will; reason is but its play-thing, and whether in time or eternity, can only be a mere beholder of the wonders of happiness, or forms of misery, which the right or wrong working of the heart has caused.

*I will give you a touch-stone. Offer as continually as you can, this following form of prayer to God. Offer it frequently on your knees; but, whether sitting, standing, or walking, be always inwardly longing, and earnestly praying this one prayer to God: “That, of his great goodness, he would make known to you, and take from your heart, every kind, and form, and degree of pride, whether it be from evil spirits, or your own corrupt nature; and that he would awaken in you the depth and truth of all that humility, which can make you capable of his light and Holy Spirit.” Reject every thought, but that of wishing, and praying in this manner from the bottom of your heart, with such truth and earnestness, as people in torment wish and pray to be delivered from it. Now if ye dare not, if your hearts will not, cannot give themselves up in this manner to the spirit of this prayer, then the touch-stone has done its work, and ye may be as fully assured both what your infidelity is, and from what it proceeds, as ye can be of the plainest truth in nature. This will shew you, how vainly you appeal to your reason, as the cause of your infidelity: that it is full as false and absurd, as if thieves and adulterers should say, that their theft and adultery was entirely owing to their bodily eyes, which shewed them external objects, and not to any thing that was wrong in their hearts. On the other hand, if you can, and will give yourselves up in sincerity to this spirit of prayer, I will venture to affirm, that if ye had twice as many evil spirits in you, as Mary Magdalen had, they will all be cast out of you, and ye will be forced with her, to weep with tears of love, at the feet of the holy Jesus.

But here, my friends, I stop, that we may return to the matter we had in hand.

Rusticus. You have made no digression Theophilus, from our main point, which was to recommend Christianity to poor Humanus. He must, I am sure, have felt the death’s-blows, that you have here given to the infidel scheme. Their idol of reason, which is the vain god they worship, is here like Dagon fallen to the ground. Humanus is caught by your bait of love, and I dare say wants only to have this conversation ended, that he may try himself, by this divine touch-stone, which you have put into his hands.

Academicus. Give me leave, gentlemen, to add one word. Theophilus has fairly pulled reason out of its usurped throne, and shewn it to be a powerless, idle toy, when compared to the royal strength of the heart, which is the kingly power, that has all the government of life in its hands.

But now, Theophilus, I beg we may return to that very point concerning prayer, where we left off. I think my heart is entirely devoted to God: and that I desire nothing but to live in such a state of prayer, as may best keep me under the guidance and direction of the Holy Spirit.
Assist me therefore, in this important matter; give me the fullest directions that you can; and if you have any manual of devotion, that you prefer, or any method that you would put me in, pray let me know it.

Rusticus. I beg leave to speak a word to Academicus. Ask not Academicus, for a book of prayers; but ask your heart what is within it, what it feels, how it stirs, what it wants, what it would have altered, what it desires; and then, instead of calling upon Theophilus for assistance, stand in the same form of petition to God.

For this turning to God according to the inward feeling, want, and motion of your own heart, in love, in trust of having from him all that you want, and wish, is the best form of prayer in the world.――――*Now no man can be ignorant of the state of his own heart, or a stranger to those tempers, that are stirring in him; and what should be the form of his prayer, but that which the state of his heart demands? If you know of no trouble, feel no burden, want nothing to be altered, or removed, nothing to be increased or strengthened in you, how can you pray for any thing of this kind? But if your heart knows its own plague, feels its inward evil, knows what it wants to have removed, will you not let your distress form the manner of your prayer? Or will you pray in a form of words, that have no more agreement with your state, than if a man walking above-ground, should beg every man he met, to pull him out of a deep pit? For prayers not formed according to the real state of your heart, are but like a prayer to be pulled out of a deep well, when you are not in it. Hence you may see, how unreasonable it is to make a mystery of prayer, or an art, that needs so much instruction; since every man is, and only can be, directed by his own inward state, and condition, when and how, and what he is to pray for, as every man’s outward state shews him what he outwardly wants.

Academicus. I did not imagine, Rusticus, that you would have so openly declared against manuals of devotion, since you know not only the most learned, but the most pious doctors of the church, consider them as necessary helps to devotion.

Rusticus. If you was obliged to go a long journey on foot, and yet through a weakness in your legs could not set one foot before another, you would do well to get the best travelling crutches that you could.

But if, with sound and good legs, you would not stir one step, till you had got crutches to hop with; surely a man might shew you the folly of not walking with your own legs, without being thought an enemy to crutches, or the makers of them. Now a manual is not so good an help, as crutches, and yet you see crutches are only proper, when our legs cannot do their office. It is, I say, not so good an help as crutches, because that which you do with the crutches, is that very same thing, that you should have done with your legs: you really travel; but when the heart cannot take one step in prayer, and you therefore read your manual, you do not do that very same thing, which your heart should have done, that is, really pray. A fine manual therefore is not to be considered as a means of praying, or as something that puts you in a state of prayer, as crutches help you to travel; but its chief use to a dead and hardened heart, that has no prayer of its own, is to shew it, what a state and spirit of prayer it wants, and at what a sad distance it is from feeling all that variety of humble, penitent, grateful, fervent, resigned, loving sentiments, which are described in the manual, that so, being touched with a view of its own miserable state, it may begin its own prayer to God for help. But I have done. Theophilus may now answer your earnest request.

Theophilus. Your earnest desire, Academicus, to live in the spirit of prayer, and be truly governed by it, is a most excellent desire; for to be a man of prayer is that which the apostle means by living in the Spirit, and having our conversation in heaven. It is to have done, not only with the confessed vices, but with the allowed follies and vanities of this world. To tell such a soul of the innocency of levity, that it need not run away from idle discourse, vain gaiety, and trifling mirth, as being the harmless relief of our heavy natures, is like telling the flame, that it need not ascend upwards. But here you are to observe, that this spirit of prayer is not to be taught you by a book, or brought into you by an art from without; but must arise from within, from the painful sense and feeling of what you are. And its first prayer is nothing else but a sense of penitence, self-condemnation, confession, and humility. It feels nothing but its own misery, and so is all humility. This prayer of humility is met by the divine love, the mercifulness of God embraces it; and then its prayer is changed into hymns, and songs, and thanksgivings. When this state of fervour has done its work, has melted away all earthly passions and affections, and left no inclination in the soul, but to delight in God alone, then its prayer changes again. It is now come so near to God, has found such union with him, that it does not so much pray as live in God. Its prayer is not any particular faculty, not confined to times, or words, or place, but is the work of his whole being, which continually stands in fulness of faith, in purity of love, in absolute resignation, to do, and be, what and how his beloved pleaseth. This is the last state of the spirit of prayer, and is its highest union with God in this life. Each of these states has its time, its variety of workings, its trials, temptations, and purifications, which can only be known by experience in the passage through them. The one infallible way to go safely through all the difficulties, trials, temptations, or opposition, of our own evil tempers is this: to expect nothing from ourselves, to trust to nothing in ourselves, but in every thing expect, and depend upon God. Keep fast hold of this thread, and then let your way be what it will, darkness, temptation, or the rebellion of nature, you will be led through all, to an union with God: for nothing hurts us in any state, but an expectation of something in it, and from it, which we should only expect from God. We are looking for our own virtue, our own piety, our own goodness, and so live on and on in our own poverty and weakness; to-day pleased and comforted with the seeming strength and firmness of our own pious tempers; to-morrow, fallen into our own mire, we are dejected, but not humbled; we grieve, but it is only the grief of pride, at seeing our perfection not to be such as we vainly imagined. And thus it will be, till the whole turn of our minds is so changed, that we as fully see and know our inability to have any goodness of our own, as to have a life of our own.

*When we are brought to this conviction, then we have done with all thought of being our own builders; the whole spirit of our mind is become a mere faith, and hope, and trust in the sole operation of God’s Spirit, looking no more to any other power, to become new creatures, than we look to any other power for the resurrection of our bodies at the last day. Hence may be seen, that the trials of every state are its greatest blessings; they do that for us, which we most of all want to have done, they force us to know our own nothingness, and the all of God.

*The soul is always safe in every state, if it makes every thing an occasion either of rising up, or falling down into the hands of God, and exercising faith, and trust, and resignation to him. And therefore the pious soul that eyes only God, that means nothing but being his alone, can have no stop put to its progress; joy and heaviness equally assist him; in the joy he looks up to God; in the heaviness he lays hold on God, and so they both do him the same good.

The best instruction that I can give you, as preparatory to the spirit of prayer, is already fully given, where we have set forth the original perfection, the miserable fall, and the glorious redemption of man. It is the true knowledge of these great things that can do all for you, which human instruction can do. These things must fill you with a dislike of your present state, and create an earnest longing after your first perfection. For prayer cannot be taught you, by giving you a book of prayers, but by awakening in you a sense of what you are, and what you should be; that so you may see, and know, and feel, what things you want, and are to pray for. For a man does not, cannot pray for any thing because a fine petition for it is put into his hands, but because his own condition is a reason and motive for his asking for it. And therefore it is, that this tract began with a discovery of these high and important matters, at the sight of which the world, and all that is in it, shrinks into nothing, and every thing past, present, and to come, awakens in our hearts a continual prayer, and longing desire, after God and eternity.

Academicus. But surely you do not take this to be right in general, that the common people, who are mostly of low understandings, should kneel down in private, without any form of prayer, saying only what comes into their own heads.

Theophilus. It would be wrong to condemn a manual as such, or to say that none ought to make use of it; but it cannot be wrong, to shew, that prayer is the natural language of the heart, and such, does not want any form or borrowed words. Now all that has been said of manuals of prayers, only amounts to thus much; that they are not necessary, nor the most natural and excellent way of praying. If they happen to be necessary to any person, it is because the natural prayer of his heart is already engaged, loving, wishing, and longing after, the things of this life; which makes him so insensible of his spiritual wants, so blind and dead to the things of God, that he cannot pray for them, but so far as the words of other people are put into his mouth.

But when a man has had so much benefit from the gospel, as to know his own want of a Redeemer, who he is, and how he is to be found;
there every thing seems to be done, both to awaken and direct his prayer, and make it a true praying in and by the spirit. For when the heart really pants after God, its prayer is a praying, as moved by the Spirit of God; it is the breath or inspiration of God, stirring, moving, and opening itself in the heart. Nothing can have the least desire to ascend to heaven, but that which came down from heaven; and therefore nothing in the heart can pray, and long after God, but the Spirit of God moving and stirring in it. Every breath therefore of the true spirit of prayer, is nothing else but the Spirit of God, breathing, inspiring, and moving the heart, in all its variety of motions and affections, towards God. And therefore every time a good desire stirs in the heart, a good prayer goes out of it, that reaches God, as being the fruit and work of his holy Spirit. When any man, feeling his corruption, looks up to God, with desire to be delivered from it, whether with words or without words, how can he pray better? What need of any change of thoughts, or words, or any variety of expressions, when the one desire of his heart made known to God, and continued in, is not only all, but the most perfect prayer he can make? Again, suppose the soul in another state, feeling with joy its offered Redeemer, and opening its heart for the full reception of him; if it stands in this state of wishing and longing for
Christ, how can its prayer be in an higher degree?

Or if it breaks out frequently in these words, Come Lord Jesus, come quickly, with all thy holy nature, Spirit, and tempers into my soul, is there any occasion to enlarge or alter these words into another form or expression? Can he do better, or pray more, than by continually standing from time to time in this state of wishing for Christ? Nay, is it not likely, that his heart should be more divided and dissipated by a numerous change of expressions, than by keeping united to one expression that sets forth all that he wants? For it is the reality, the steadiness, and continuance of the desire, that is the goodness of prayer. Our Lord said to one that came to him, What wilt thou that I should do unto thee? He answered, Lord, that I may receive my sight: and he received it. Another said, Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean: and he was cleansed. Tell me what learning, or fine parts, are required to make such prayers as these? And yet what wonders of relief are recorded in scripture, as given to such short prayers as these! And what blessing may not now be obtained in the same way, and with as few words? Every man therefore that has any feeling of the weight of his sin, or any desire to be delivered from it by Christ, has learning and capacity enough to make his own prayer. For praying is not speaking eloquently, but simply, the true desire of the heart; and the heart, simple and plain in good desires, is in the truest preparation for all the gifts of God. And the most simple souls, that have accustomed themselves to speak their own desires and wants to God, in such short, but true breathings of their hearts, will soon know more of prayer, than any persons who have only their knowledge from learning, and learned books.

*And yet it is not either silence, or a simple petition, or a great variety of outward expressions, that alters the nature of prayer, or makes it to be good or better, but only and solely the reality, steadiness, and continuance of the desire; and therefore whether a man offer this desire to God in the silent longing of the heart, or in simple, short, petitions, or in a great variety of words, is of no consequence; but all are equally good, when the true and right state of the heart is with them.

All that I have said of prayer, has been only to this end: to shew its real nature; whence it is to arise; where it is to be found: and how you are to begin, and become a true proficient in it. If, therefore, you was at present to look no farther, than how to begin to practise a prayer proceeding from your heart, and continue in it, leaving all that you are farther to know of prayer, to be known in its time by experience: this would be much better for you, than to be asking before-hand about such things, as are not your immediate concern.

Begin to be a man of prayer, in this easy, simple, and natural manner, that has been set before you; and when you are faithful to this method, you will then need no other instructor in the art of prayer. Your own heart thus turned to God will want no one to tell it, when it should be simple in its petitions, or various in its expressions: or prostrate itself in silence before God. But this hastiness of knowing things, before they belong to us, is very common. Thus a man that has but just entered upon the reformation of his life, shall want to read or hear a discourse upon perfection, whether it be attainable or not; and shall be more eager after what he can hear of this, though at such a distance, than of such things as concern the next step he is to take.

You, my friend, have taken the first step¹ in the spiritual life; you have devoted yourself absolutely to God, to live wholly to his will, under the light and guidance of his holy Spirit, intending, seeking nothing in this world, but such a passage thro’ it as may tend to the glory of God, and the recovery of your own fallen soul. Your next step is, looking to the continuance of this resolution, and donation of yourself to God, to see that it be kept alive, that every thing you do may be animated and directed by it, and all the occurrences of every day, from morning to night, be received by you, as becomes a spirit that is devoted to God. Now this second step cannot be taken but purely by prayer; nothing else has the least power here but prayer; I do not mean you must frequently read or say a number of prayers, (tho’ this in its turn may be good and useful to you) but the prayer I mean, and which you must practise, if you would take this second step in the spiritual life, is prayer of the heart, or a prayer of your own, proceeding from the state of your heart, and its own tendency to God. Of all things therefore look to this prayer of the heart; consider it as your infallible guide to heaven; turn from every thing that is an hindrance of it, that quenches or abates its fervour; love and like nothing but that which is suitable to it; and let every day begin, go on, and end in the spirit of it. Consider yourself, as having gone aside and lost your right path, when any delight, desire, or trouble is suffered to live in you, that cannot be made a part of this prayer of the heart to God. For nothing so infallibly shews us the true state of our heart, as that which gives us either delight or trouble; for as our delight and trouble is, so is the state of our heart: if therefore you are carried away with any trouble or delight, that has not relation to your progress in the divine ♦life, you may be assured your heart is not in its right state of prayer to God. Look at a man who is devoted to some one thing, or has some one great worldly matter at heart; he stands turned from every thing that has not some relation to it; he has no joy or trouble but what ariseth from it; he has no eyes or ears but to see or hear something about it. All else is a trifle, but that which some way or other concerns this great matter. You need not tell him of any rules or methods to keep it in his thoughts; it goes with him into all places and companies; it has his first thoughts in the morning; and every day is good or bad, as this great matter seems to succeed or not. This may shew you how easily, how naturally, how constantly, our heart will carry on its own state of prayer, as soon as God is its great object, or it is wholly given up to him. This may also shew you, that the heart cannot fully enter into the spirit of prayer, till it takes God for its all, or gives itself up wholly to God. But when this foundation is laid, the seed of prayer is sown, and the heart is in a continual state of tendency to God; having no other delight or trouble in things of any kind, but as they help or hinder its union with God. Therefore, the way to be a man of prayer, and be governed by its spirit, is not to get a book full of prayers; but the best help you can have from a book, is to read one full of such truths and awakening informations, as force you to see and know who, and what, and where you are; that God is your all; and that all is misery, but a heart and life devoted to him. This is the best outward prayer-book you can have, as it will turn you to an inward book and spirit of prayer in your heart, which is a continual longing desire of the heart after God. When, for the sake of this inward prayer, you retire at any time of the day, never begin till you know and feel why and wherefore you are going to pray; and let this why and wherefore, form and direct every thing that comes from you, whether it be in thought or word. As you know your own state, so it must be the easiest thing in the world to look up to God with such desires as suit the state you are in; and praying in this manner, whether it be in one, or more, or no words, your prayer will be always highly beneficial to you.――Thus praying, you can never pray in vain; but one month in the practise of it, will do you more good, make a greater change in your soul, than twenty years of prayer only by books, and forms of other peoples making.

¹ Surely, one of the last steps.

No vice can harbour in you, no good desire languish, when once your heart is in this method of prayer; never beginning to pray, till you first see how matters stand with you; asking your heart what it wants, and having nothing in your prayers, but what the known state of your heart puts you upon demanding, saying, or offering unto God. Such a prayer gives new life and growth to all your virtues; whereas, overlooking this true prayer of your own heart, and only at certain times taking a prayer that you find in a book, you have nothing to wonder at, if you are every day praying, and yet every day sinking farther under your infirmities. For your life can only be altered by that which is the real working of your heart. And if your prayer is only a form of words, made by the skill of other people, such a prayer can no more change you into a good man, than an actor upon the stage, who speaks kingly language, is thereby made a king. Again, another great and infallible benefit of this kind of prayer is this; it is the only way to be delivered from the deceitfulness of your own heart.

Our hearts deceive us, because we are absent from them, taken up in outward things, in outward rules and forms of living and praying. But this kind of praying, which takes all its thoughts from the state of our hearts, makes it impossible for us to be strangers to ourselves. The strength of every sin, the power of every evil temper, the most secret working of our hearts, the weakness of any or all our virtues, is seen with a noon-day clearness, as soon as the heart is made our prayer-book, and we pray for nothing, but according to what we read and find there.

Academicus. O Theophilus, you have shewn me, that the best prayer in the world is that which the heart sends forth from itself. And yet I am not free from suspicions about it: I apprehend it to be that very praying by the spirit, or as moved by the spirit, or from a light within, which is condemned as Quakerism.

Theophilus. There is but one good prayer that you can possibly make; and that is a prayer as the Spirit of God moves you in it, or to it. This alone is a divine prayer; no other prayer can possibly have any communion with God. Therefore to ridicule praying by the Spirit, or as moved by the Spirit, is ridiculing the only prayer that is divine; and to reject and oppose it as a vain conceit, is to quench and suppress all that is holy, heavenly, and divine within us. For if this Holy Spirit does not live and move in us, and bring forth all the praying affections of our souls, we may as well think of reaching heaven with our hands, as with our prayers.

Earnestly therefore to pray, humbly to hope, and faithfully to expect, to be continually inspired and animated by the Holy Spirit of God, has no more of vanity, fanaticism, or enthusiastic wildness in it, than to hope and pray, to act in every thing from and by a good spirit. For as sure as the lip of truth hath told us, that there is but one that is good, so sure is it, that not a spark of goodness, nor a breath of piety can be in any creature, either in heaven or on earth, but by that divine Spirit. The matter is not about forms of virtue, rules of religion, or a prudent piety, suited to time, and place, and character; all these are degrees of goodness that our old man can as easily trade in, as in any other matters of this world. But so much as we have of an heavenly and divine goodness, so much we must have of a divine inspiration in us. For as nothing can fall to the earth, but because it has the nature of the earth in it: so nothing can ascend towards heaven, or unite with it, but that very Spirit which came down from heaven and has the nature of heaven in it. This truth therefore, that the kingdom of God is within us, and that its spirit is the Spirit of God, stands upon a rock, against which all attempts are in vain. But how shall I know when, and how far, I am led and governed by the Spirit of God?

*Theophilus. “God is unwearied patience, an ever enduring mercifulness; he is unmixed goodness, impartial, universal love; his delight is in the communication of himself, his own happiness to every thing according to its capacity. He does everything that is good, righteous, and lovely, for its own sake, because it is good, righteous, and lovely. He is the good from which nothing but good cometh, and resisteth all evil, only with goodness.” This is the nature and Spirit of God, and hereby you may know, whether you are moved and led by the Spirit of God. Here is a proof that is always at hand. If it be the earnest desire, and longing of your heart, to be merciful as he is merciful; to be full of his unwearied patience, to dwell in his unalterable meekness; if you long to be like him in universal, impartial love; if you desire to communicate every good, to every creature that you are able; if you love and practise every thing that is good, righteous, and lovely, for its own sake, because it is good, righteous, and lovely; and resist no evil, but with goodness; then you have the utmost certainty, that the Spirit of God liveth, dwelleth, and governeth in you. But if you want any of these tempers, at least if the whole bent of your heart and mind is not set upon them, all pretences to an immediate inspiration, and continual operation of the Spirit of God are vain. Where his Spirit dwells and governs, there all these tempers spring, as the certain fruits of it. Therefore keep but within the bounds here set you; and you may safely say, with St. John, Hereby we know that he abideth in us, by the Spirit which he hath given us.

Academicus. But surely the Spirit of God often discovers itself, and operates in very extraordinary ways, in uncommon illuminations and openings of divine light and knowledge, in strong impulses and sallies of a wonderful zeal, full of the highest gifts and graces of God: and these have frequently been God’s gracious methods of awakening a sinful world.

Theophilus. What you say, Academicus, is very true; and almost every age of the church is a sufficient proof of it.

But would you know the sublime, the exalted, the angelic, in the Christian life, see what the Son of God saith, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, with all thy soul, with all thy mind, and with all thy strength; and thy neighbour as thyself. On these two, saith he, hang all the law and the prophets. And without these two things, no good light ever can arise or enter into your soul. Take all the sciences, shine in all the accomplishments of the lettered world, they will only lead you from one vain passion to another; every thing you send out from within you is selfish, vain, and bad; every thing you see or receive from without, will be received with a bad spirit; till these two heavenly tempers have overcome the natural perverseness of fallen nature. Till then, nothing pure can proceed from within, nor any thing be received in purity from without.

Think yourself therefore incapable of judging rightly, or acting virtuously, till these two tempers have the government of your heart. Then every truth will meet you; no hurtful error can get entrance into your heart; but you will have a better knowledge of all divine matters, than all human learning can help you to.