VIII.

Which is the last thing they cry unto our Saviour and call upon him; beseeching with fervent desires that he would come. So some understand those words to be the voice of Christian people, not inviting strangers to come and embrace their religion, but earnestly inviting our Saviour Christ to come to perfect their happiness. In this they all agreed, The Spirit (that is, prophetical persons, endowed with the most eminent gifts of the Holy Ghost) and the bride, (that is, the whole body of the church,) with one consent, say, Come. And they exhort all others who should read this, and receive Christianity, to join with them in these prayers; for so it follows: let him that heareth say, Come. And let every soul (that is their conclusion) who thirsts after divine knowledge, especially of future things, come and read this prophecy; and partake of that refreshment, that water of life, which is here freely offered to him.'

But if that verse should have another meaning, yet it is certain that St. John himself (who was a fit pattern to all those who believed his book) concludes all his visions with a prayer to Christ that he would hasten his coming. For when our Lord had said, Surely, I come quickly, he answers Amen to this promise; and echoes back his own words to him: Even so, (let it be so,) come, Lord Jesus. Thy word is all our wishes. There is nothing so desirable as that thou wouldst come and fulfil thy gracious word.

It will be very fit then for us, who are come a great deal nearer to the day of the Lord, to descend down into ourselves and see what passions we have like to these which were of old in Christian breasts. Let us call ourselves to a strict account, and examine whether we be in the number of those thirsty souls that have this hearty affection for the appearing of Christ. It is safe for us to feel the pulse of our souls, and by these tokens make a judgment of them, whether they beat heavenward or no. What is it, may every one say to himself, what is it that I most admire, and holds the principal place in my esteem? On what is it that I have fixed my mind and set

mine heart? What is the chiefest loadstone of my affections, and whither doth the main current of them run? To what is it that my actions are addressed? What is my hope, and the strength and support of my heart? If I might have my wish, what would I now see? The whole world fall down at my feet to worship me; or all these things vanish and disappear before the glory of the Lord Jesus, that we might go, and fall down and worship his Majesty? What am I content to suffer and endure for this, though I stay long before I enjoy it? Hath patience had its perfect work? and do I rejoice, though in tribulation, in hope of this glory? Is this my satisfaction also, in the greatest fulness of worldly goods, and are mine eyes, even then, ever towards the Lord? Am I still looking up unto Jesus, sighing for him, and saying, Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly? I can appeal to thee, that thou knowest there is nothing I so much long for as that thou wouldst come. O come, make haste to come, and satisfy the desires of thy church, which have long cried, Come, Lord Jesus.

Let us not deceive ourselves; this great apostle hath pronounced a curse upon every one that loves not the Lord Jesus3. And he that loves him loves his appearing: and he that loveth his appearing sets his thoughts, his heart, his design so much upon it, as to contrive by all means (whatsoever become of him here) that, when Jesus who is our life shall appear, he may appear with him in his glory. Riches, greatness, pleasures, fame, long life, and all the train that waits upon them, are but as so many big names; loud, but empty sounds, which signify nothing to him, in comparison with these exceeding great things, the coming, the appearing, the kingdom and the glory of Christ Jesus. The sweetest friend in this world, to whom he hath conceived the most passionate love, will not hinder him from seeking these: but rather by that love he will be excited to remember with what inexpressible affection he ought to pursue such divine enjoyments; not only for his own soul, but for his second self. The best wish he can make for both is, that they may be carried with the same eager desires and hasty speed, to perfect their love in the incomparably greater joys and blessedness of Christ's heavenly kingdom.

s 1 Cor. xvi. 22.

So great they are, that, having now finished all that was at first propounded to be considered on this subject, this love will not be content that I should here make an end. It being such a masterly affection, and governing the soul so absolutely, as hath been related, will not suffer us to lay that presently out of our thoughts which it hath once planted very deep in our hearts. It is one of its greatest pleasures, to think very much of that good, whose company it doth not yet enjoy: and, when it is far distant of itself, to make it present by a constant image of it in the mind.

And therefore it cannot be any wonder, if we bear a true love to the appearing of Christ, that it will not permit us to be willing to cease our meditations on so delightful an argument. It doth but act according to its nature, if it require us again to take another view of it; and spend a few more thoughts upon so bright and glorious an object. And happy were it for us, if it were nothing else but mere love that made me resume this discourse and begin it again; and that made those who read it to be willing or rather desirous to know further what are the causes of this heavenly affection to the appearing of our Lord.

For that is it wherein I intend to employ the remainder of my thoughts upon this subject. Love is a passion that is very desirous to feel itself; and to be satisfied of its own sincerity, by the strength, and force, and restlessness of its motion. It fills the heart also with such a secret joy, that it would fain know the very spring of all its delectable motions, and be led to the rise of every one of its desires and inclinations. Both the strangeness and the variety of its surprising pleasures are so great, that our hearts cannot but be invited thereby to the very bottom of it; to see from whence it flows, as we perceive whither it tends. And therefore, as I have touched upon the general cause and reason of this passion of love in the foregoing part of this small treatise; so it is not fit to deny it, in the following part, a brief consideration of the particular reasons why it should be set upon the appearing of Christ.

And they may be reduced to these two heads :

First, The great affection that all good souls have for our blessed Saviour himself: and,

Secondly, The natural affection we all bear to our own good and welfare.

Which when we have considered, we shall be ashamed that we do not with greater fervour say, with respect to this, in our daily prayers, Thy kingdom come; and be mightily excited to call upon our souls more frequently to meditate on that blessed hope, and to look, with much affection, for the glorious appearing of the great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ. Who will be so much honoured thereby himself, and then confer such upon us, as should make us long for the accomplishment of both.

CHAP. XI.

Reasons for our love to this appearing, drawn from the respect we ought to have to our Lord himself.

As for the first of these, the affection that is due to our blessed Saviour, it ought to be strong, you will easily confess, that death itself should not be an equal match for it. That which conquers all things should itself be conquered by this; and the king of terrors should yield all his force, and yield himself a captive to the love of the King of love.

For since there is so great a power in hearty and unfeigned love, to beget love in those to whom it is expressed; and since the love whereby our Lord attracts our affection doth so vastly exceed all other; it is a prodigious obstinacy or negligence, that the dullest and heaviest souls are not drawn by so big a loadstone.

Do we not feel, as I have said elsewhere, some motions of kindness in our hearts for the most contemptible creatures; when they constantly fawn upon us, and follow us, and lie down by us, and will by no means leave us, but take our part if any body assault us? Are we not much pleased with this affection they have to us, and concerned for their safety, and ready to reward them with tokens of our love to them? We must be infidels then, or very inconsiderate and regardless of our blessed Saviour; or else find our hearts put into the greatest passion, when we read and seriously weigh the strange expressions which our Saviour hath made of the most endearing love

to us.

When we remember how he neglected himself to serve us;

how he endured hunger and thirst that we might be satisfied; how he gave the people the very bread out of his mouth, and forgot to feed himself, that he might nourish them; when we see how he addresses himself unto us; how he woos and courts us (to speak in our own language) with the greatest kindness to come to him; how solicitous he is for our happiness; how he sighed for us; how he groaned in spirit to see men so obstinate; how he sweat; how he bled; how he gave his very life for us; and was content to be exposed to the greatest shame rather than we should perish; what heart can be so insensible as not to be mightily affected with it, and to think of returning back his love, and that in some proportion to the wonderful greatness of it?

But then, alas! it must be confessed that we find, when our passion is stirred up, and our hearts begin to burn within us, we have little or nothing there that is worthy of him. A present we would fain make to him, but have none fit to be offered to so great a Majesty. Nay, so void many times and empty are our hearts of all that is good, that we may well be ashamed to let him see them. Our thoughts are so dull, and the resentments we have of his kindness so feeble and weak, that we ourselves in whom they are can scarce feel them. And at the best our affections are so small and so short, that we cannot but blush to come furnished with no better oblation to him.

What shall we do in this case? How shall we behave ourselves with some due regard to his incomprehensible love? Love him we must; but love him as he is worthy, and as we would, we are not able. We cannot choose but bring him our hearts, and yet we are sensible they are not worth the bringing.

We shall find ourselves naturally inclined, in these circumstances, to do just as a grateful poor man doth; who, being unable himself to requite a friend's courtesies, rejoices to hear that so very great a person will take that care upon him. Or as the divine Psalmist doth, who, finding his own thoughts too short and low, calls upon the angels, who excel in strength, to set forth the praises of Him, whose name is highly exalted above all blessing and praise. That is, since we ourselves cannot requite the benefits our Lord hath done us, nor worthily magnify his goodness towards us; we ought in all reason to be