must be neither mean nor vicious. But I have treated this and the foregoing heads more copiously in human life; to which I refer my reader.

As to fuch, in the next place, who are engaged in a profeffion, I have particularly confidered their state in feveral places, and find little to add here, but only to mind them, that they may be guilty of idleness too; that their idlenefs is the more criminal, the lefs temptation they have to it. They may neglect the duties of their calling, I mean their fecular calling; and if they be unfaithful and negligent in their temporal concern, it is not to be expected that they fhould be more folicitous and induftrious about their spiritual one. They may again fuffer the cares of this life to thruft out thofe of another; and then they are truly idle and flothful servants to God, how induftrious and faithful foever they are to the world: for life is but wafted and mif-fpent, if it makes not provifion for eternity; and it matters little whether it be wafted in pleafure or in drudgery.

CHAP.

Of Unfruitfulness, as it confifts in Lukewarmness or formality. The caufes from which Lukewarmness proceeds. The folly, guilt, and danger of a Laodicean ftate.

N the former chapter I confidered that

in the omiffion of duty: I am now to confider another part of it, which confifts in too perfunctory a performance of it. Befides those who are truly unprofitable, be cause they flight or neglect the duties of religion; there is another fort of men, who at the last day will fall under the fame character and condemnation; not because they perform no duties, but because their performance of them is depreciated by Coldnefs and formality: men, who make a fair appearance of religion, and yet have no inward fpiritual life: men, who do generally obferve the external duties of religion, but with fo little guft, with fuch indifference and Lukewarmnefs, that they are neither acceptable to God, nor useful to themselves. This state of deadness may be confidered either more generally, as it runs through the whole courfe of our lives and actions; or more particularly, in this or that inftance of religion. 1. When

1. When 'tis fo general, that the bent and course of our lives is, for want of· relish of the things of God, perverted and depraved; when we have no defigns, drive on no ends, that are fuitable to the excellency and dignity of our nature; to the holiness of our profeffion, and to the great and manifeft obligations of God: when we have no joys or pleasures, no thirfts or appetites, that do truly become a Christian; when we make no progrefs, no advance towards our great end; when our difcourfes and employments have no tincture of the Spirit, and no tendency to edification. I think we may then boldly conclude, that this is a ftate of carnality and death. And that this want of relish in the general courfe of our lives, proceeds from a real want of a fincere faith, and true illumination. For were the mind once truly enlightened; were it once clearly convinced, firmly and habitually perfuaded, of the beauty and excellency of the things of God; as we should have notions different from thofe of worldly carnal men, fo would there confequently be a difference in the nature of our hopes and fears, of our defires and defigns, of our joys and forrows; and as neceffarily in the main fcope and tendency of our converfation. Whoever therefore finds this general ftupidity in the

courfe

courfe of his life, let him not flatter himfelf in the performance of any of the duties of religion: he has a corrupt, carnal, and blind heart; his performances proceed not from true principles, and have not that life and vigour in them that they ought; they are as different from the performances of a man truly regenerate and fanctified, as the civilities and complements of a wellbred acquaintance, from the fustantial offices of a fincere and affectionate friend. Nor can any man, who will take the leaft pains to examine himself, be ignorant of, or mistaken in the condition of his foul, if this be it. For whoever will act honestly and impartially, ought not to pass a sentence of abfolution on himself, upon the bare performance of fome relative, or inftrumental duties of religion; but he ought to inquire, first, what virtues he practiles, which put him upon expence, hazard, or travel; what works of piety or charity he performs; and what proportion they bear to his ability. Next, he ought to confider the defign and end he proposes to himself in all his religious performances; whether he seek the honour of God, the welfare of man, and his own improvement and growth in goodness; or whether he does this merely to acquit himself of a task, and discharge himself of what he takes Bb

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for granted as a duty, tho' he finds no pleafure, no advantage in it. Thirdly, He muft reflect upon the frame and temper of his mind in reference to thefe duties; what hunger and thirst he has for righteoufnefs; what warmth, ardor, elevation, or earnestness of mind accompanies his performances; what peace and pleasure his reflection on them; or whether religion be not a burthen to him, or fomething to which custom only reconciles him. Laftly, He ought to examine what operation, what influence his religious performances have upon him. Prayer, hearing, reading, and fuch-like duties, do naturally tend to enlighten the mind, purify the heart, increase our love, ftrengthen our faith, and confirm our hope; and therefore, where this is not the effect of them, we may conclude, that they are not discharged in that manner and with that fincerity they ought. He therefore, that will examine himself aright, muft not ask himfelf how often he reads, how often he hears, &c. and then reft there; but must ask himself what effect these performances have had upon his mind; which he will foon difcern, if he demand of himself, what the bent and fcope of his life is; how much he advances and improves in the conqueft of any vice, and the attain

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