First, It is deceitful because it is weak. When we have the growth of a man, we have the weakneffes of a child. The heart of man hath not ftrength enough to think one good thought of itself; it cannot command its own attentions to a prayer of ten lines long, but, before the end thereof, it fhall wander after fomething that is to no purpose. And no wonder then that it grows weary of an holy religion, which confifts of fo many parts as make the bufinefs of a whole life. And there is no greater argument in the world of our fpiritual weakness, and of the falfeness of our hearts in the matters of religion, than the backwardness which moft men have always, and all men have sometimes, to their prayers; fo weary of their length, fo glad when they are done, fo inventive to excufe and fruftrate an opportunity. And yet there is no manner of trouble in the duty, no weariness of bones, no violent labours; nothing but begging a bleffing, and receiving it; nothing but doing ourselves the greatest honour, of speaking to the great- eft perfon, and greatest king of the world. B 4 And

And that we should be unwilling to do this, fo unable to continue in it, so backward to return to it, fo without tafte and relish in the doing it, can have no visible reason in the nature of the thing, but something within us, a ftrange fickness in the heart, a fpiritual loathing, fomething that hath no name; but we are fure it comes from a weak, a faint, and a false heart.

And yet this weak heart is ftrong in paffions, violent in defires, irresistible in its appetites, and furious in its anger; here are ftrengths enough, one should think. But these are the ftrengths of a man in a fever; notwithstanding which, we still say, he is weak and fick unto death. This is

not the ftrength of health, but of furioufnefs and disease. It is weakness in another kind. And so are the strengths of a man's heart, They are fetters and chains; ftrong, but they are the cordage of imprifonment; fo ftrong, that the heart is not able to ftir. And yet it cannot but be a mighty fadness, that the heart fhall pursue a temporal intereft with wit and diligence, and an unwearied induftry; and shall not have strength, in a matter that concerns its

eternal

eternal intereft, to answer one objection, to refift one affault, to defeat one art of the devil; but shall certainly and infallibly fall, whenever it is tempted to a pleasure.

This, if it be examined, will prove, to be a deceit indeed, a pretence, rather than true upon a just cause; that is, it is not a natural, but a moral and a vicious weakness. And we may try it in one or two familiar inftances. One of the great ftrengths, or rather weakneffes, of the heart is, that it is strong, violent, and active in a wrong cause. Take an extortioner, an oppreffor, a rebel, a traitor, any person that hath an ill cause to manage; what he wants in the strength of his reason, he fhall make it up with diligence. But a person that hath right on his fide, is cold, indiligent, lazy, and unactive, trusting that the goodness of his cause will do it alone. But fo, wrong prevails; while evil perfons are zealous in a bad matter, and others are remifs in a good; and the fame perfon fhall be very induftrious always, when he hath least reason fo to be.

The heart, in like manner, is weak, in making judgement concerning its own acts. It doth not know when it is pleafed or difpleased;

pleased; it is peevish and trifling; it would and it would not; and it is in many cases impoffible to know whether a man's heart defires fuch a thing or not.

Even in the matter of repentance: Suppofe a man, that hath spent his younger years in vanity and folly, is by the grace of God apprehenfive of it, and thinks of returning to fober counfels; this man will find his heart fo falfe, fo fubtil and fugitive, fo fecret and undiscernable, that it will be hard to determine whether he repents or no. For if he confiders that he hates fin, and therefore repents; alas, he fo hates it, that he dares not, if he be wife, tempt himself with an opportunity to act it. For in the midft of that which he calls hatred, he hath fo much love left for it, that if the fin comes again, and speaks him fair, he is loft again, and falls into its embraces. And why elfe fhould it be neceffary for us to pray that we be not led into temptation, but because we hate the fin, and yet love it too well; we difapprove of it, and yet follow it; we are angry at ourselves, and yet cannot be without it; we know it undoes us, but we think it pleafant. And when we are to execute

the

the fierce anger of the Lord upon our fins, yet we are kind-hearted, and spare the favourite fin, and have still some kindneffes left towards it.

There have been perfons in feveral ages of the church, who have thought themfelves in fo good an eftate, that they made no question of their falvation; being confident, only because they were confident; and yet they were, at the fame time, extremely timorous and fearful. How many perfons are there in the world, that fay they are fure of their falvation, and yet they dare not die? And if any man pretends that he is now fure he fhall be faved, and that he cannot fall away from grace; there is no better way to confute him, than by advising him to get out of the world as faft as he can. For what fhould hinder him? not the fin; for it cannot take him from God's favour: not the change of his condition; for he fays he is fure to go to a better. Why does he not then refolve to die? The reafon is plainly this, They fay they are confident, and yet are extremely timorous; they profefs to believe that doctrine, and yet dare not trust it; nay, they think they believe, but they do not. So

falfe