ployments, which it naturally, and with pleasure performs; because having lost all sense of its native excellency and dignity, and forgotten its heavenly original, it now relishes nothing but earthly things, and catching at present advantages, disregards eternal enjoyments, as altogether unknown, or removed quité out of sight. But if in any particular soul, either from some spark of its native excellency still remaining alive, or any indistinct report that reaches it, some desires or emotions towards the recovery of its native liberty should arise; yet, as it has no sufficient strength of its own, nor finds any way open, that can lead to so great a blessing, these ineffectual wishes come to nothing, and the unhappy soul, having lost its hopes, languishes in its chains, and is at last quite stupified. Philosophy, as we have already observed, perceiving that man was born to higher views than this world affords, attempted to raise him from his present dejection, secure his claim to heaven, and restore him to a conformity and likeness to God; but in vain. To redeem the sons of man, and restore them to what they had lost, it was necessary that the eternal Son of God should come down from heaven. Our fall was easily brought about, but our restoration was a work of the greatest difficulty, and only to be performed by the powerful hand of God; there are but few, whom the exalted Father of spirits has loved, and Christ has raised up to heaven. He is the source whence the spirit of God flows down to us, he is the fountain of that ven. new life and sanctified nature, by which we mount towards God, whereby we overcome the world, and, in consequence thereof, are admitted into heaAnd happy, to be sure, are those truly noble souls, whose fate it is to be thus born again, to be admitted into the choirs of the holy angels, and to be clothed with those glorious robes that are whiter than snow they will follow the lamb wherever he goes, and he will lead them to the crystal streams, and even to the fountain of life itself. But all those, that are to be the attendants of the lamb, in those blessed pastures, which are to be met with in his heavenly country, must of necessity, even while they live in this lower world, be followers of him in his humble innocence and purity. This spotless, holy, and pure lamb of God, is the guide and shepherd of a pure and holy flock, a flock dear to God, and of distinguished beauty; but the shepherd is still more beautiful than they*. But the impure goats, and uncleanly hogs, he beholds at a distance, and leaves them to unclean spirits, to be possessed by them at pleasure, and afterwards to be precipitated into the depth of misery; unless it be determined to deliver some of them from that shocking form, by a wonderful and divine change, and to convert them into lambs, which is effected in proper time, by the influence of the Holy Ghost. Whence they are called the holy, pure, and divine sons of God; and all love to earthly things, all carnal, impure affections, are banished out of those * Formosi pecoris custos formosior. hearts; which are, as it were, temples consecrated henceforth to God: "for the dwelling place of the holy one must be holy also*." LECTURE XVII. Of TRUE FELICITY and ETERNAL PUNISHMENT. O How insipid and unsatisfactory are all the plea sures of this earthly life, which we now live, in respect of that incomparable, and altogether heavenly delight, which attends the meditation and contemplation of divine things! When mortals are thus employed, they eat the bread of angels; and if there are any, who do not relish the sweetness of this food, it is because the divine part of their composition is become brutish, and, forgetting its original, lies buried in earth and mud. But though the soul is reduced to these woeful circumstances, it is not yet so entirely divested of itself, but it still retains some faint remains of its heavenly original, and more exalted nature; insomuch, that it cannot acquiesce in, or be at all satisfied with those fading enjoyments, wherewith it is surrounded, nor think itself happy or easy in the greatest abundance of earthly comforts. And though, possibly, it may not be fully sensible of what it wants; yet ἅγιε γάρ ἅγιον ἐςι οικητήριον. it perceives, not without some pain and uneasiness, that something is still wanting to make it happy. The truth is, besides that great and unknown good, even those, whom by an abuse of that term we call most happy, are in want of a great many things: for if we look narrowly into the condition of those, who are arrived at the highest pitch of earthly splendor, we shall certainly find some defect, and imperfection in it, and be obliged to conclude with the poet, "That since the earth began to be inhabited by men, a full cup of good things, without any mixture of evil, never fell to the share of one man; a graceful body is often dishonoured by bad morals, and a mind of uncommon beauty is sometimes joined to a deformed body, &c.*." But what we call the chief and supreme good must, of necessity, be complete, and entirely free from every defect; and therefore, what is not in every respect perfect, properly speaking, is not perfect at all. The happiness of rich and great men, which the poor admire and respect, is only a gaudy and splendid species of misery. What St Bernard says of the rash and ill-founded opinion, which the generality of mankind form, of the lives of the saints, from the imperfect knowledge they have of them, "They see our crosses, but they see not our Etenim mortalibus ex quo Tellus cæpta coli, nunquam sincera bonorum comforts," may be here inverted: we see the advantages of those men, that are puffed up with riches and honours, but we see not their troubles and vexations. "I wish, I wish, says one, that those, who desire riches, would consult with rich men; they would then, to be sure, be of another opinion t." I will spend no more time in describing or lamenting the wretched state of mankind on this earth, because it would answer no end. For, suppose a more complete assemblage of sublunary enjoyments, and a more perfect system of earthly felicity than ever the sun beheld, the mind of man would instantly devour it, and, as if it was still empty and unsatisfied, would require something more. And indeed, by this insatiable thirst, the mind of man discovers its natural excellence and dignity; for thus it proves, that all things here below are insufficient to satisfy, or make it happy; and its capacity is so great and extensive, that it cannot be filled by the whole of this visible frame of things. For as St Augustine observes, "Thou hast made us, O Lord, for thyself, and our hearts are restless till they return to theet." The mind, that makes God its refuge, after it has been much tossed to and fro, and distressed in the world, enjoys * Cruces nostras vident, unctiones non vident. + Utinam, utinam qui divitias appetunt, cum divitibus deliberarent; certe vota mutarent. Fecisti nos, Domine, propter te, et inquietum est cor nostrum, donec in te redeat. |