and distress challenges mercy; a good woman, a faithful suppliant, a Canaanitish disciple, a Christian Canaanite, yet rated and whipt out for a dog by thee, who wert all goodness and mercy! How different are thy ways from ours! Even thy severity argues favour. The trial had not been so sharp, if thou hadst not found the faith so strong, if thou hadst not meant the issue so happy. Thou hadst not driven her away as a dog, if thou hadst not intended to admit her for a saint; and to advance her as much for a pattern of faith, as thou depressedst her for a spectacle of contempt. The time was when the Jews were children, and the Gentiles dogs; now the case is happily altered. The Jews are the dogs, (so their dear and divine countryman calls the concision); we Gentiles are the children. What certainty is there in an external profession, that gives us only to seem, not to be; at least, the being that it gives is doubtful and temporary. We may be children to-day, and dogs to-morrow. The true assurance of our condition is in the decree and covenant of God on his part; in our faith and obedience on ours. How they of children became dogs, it is not hard to say: their presumption, their unbelief transformed them; and, to perfect their brutishness, they set their fangs upon the Lord of life. How we of dogs become children, I know no reason. But, O the depth!" That which at the first singled them out from the nations of the world, hath at last singled us out from the world and them. "It is not in him that willeth, nor in him that runneth, but in God that hath mercy." Lord, how should we bless thy goodness, that we of dogs are children! how should we fear thy justice, since they of children are dogs! Olet us not be highminded, but tremble. If they were cut off who crucified thee in thine humbled state, what may we expect who crucify thee daily in thy glory? Now, what ordinary patience would not have been overstrained with so contemptuous a repulse? how few but would have fallen into intemperate passions, into passionate expostulations? Art thou the prophet of God, that so disdainfully entertainest poor suppliants? Is this the comfort that thou dealest to the distressed? is this the fruit of my humble adoration, of my faithful profession? Did I snarl or bark at thee, when I called thee the "Son of David?" did I fly upon thee otherwise than with my prayers and tears? And if this term were fit for my vileness, yet doth it become thy lips? Is it not sorrow enough to me, that I am afflicted with my daughter's misery, but that thou, of whom I hoped for relief, must add to mine affliction in an unkind reproach? But here is none of all this. Contrarily, her humility grants all, her patience overcomes all, and she meekly answers, "Truth, Lord; yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their master's table." The reply is not more witty than faithful. O Lord, thou art truth itself; thy words can be no other than truth: thou hast called me a dog, and a dog I am; give me therefore the favour and privilege of a dog, that I may gather up some crumbs of mercy from under that table whereat thy children sit. This blessing, though great to me, yet to the infiniteness of thy power and mercy, is but as a crumb to a feast. I presume not to press to the board, but to creep under it. Deny me not those small offals, which else would be swept away in the dust. After this stripe, give me but a crumb, and I shall fawn upon thee, and depart satisfied. O woman, say I, great is thine humility, great is thy patience: but, "O woman," saith my Saviour, "great is thy faith." He seeth the root, we the stock. Nothing but faith could thus temper the heart, thus strengthen the soul, thus charm the tongue. O precious faith! O acceptable perseverance! It is no marvel if that chiding end in favour: "Be it to thee even as thou wilt." Never did such grace go away uncrowned. The beneficence had been strait, if thou hadst not carried away more than thou suedst for. Lo! thou that camest a dog, goest away a child! thou that wouldst but creep under the children's feet, art set at their elbow! thou, that wouldst have taken up with a crumb, art feasted with full dishes! The way to speed well at God's hand, is to be humbled in his eyes and in our own. It is quite otherwise with God, and with men. With men we are so accounted of, as we account of ourselves. He shall be sure to be accounted vile in the sight of others, which is vile in his own. With God nothing is got by vain ostenta. tion, nothing is lost by abasement. O God, when we look down to our own weakness, and cast up our eyes to thy infiniteness, thine omnipotence, what poor things we are! but when we look down upon our sins and wickedness, how shall we express our shame! None of all thy creatures, except devils, are capable of so foul a quality. As we have thus made ourselves worse than beasts, so let us, in a sincere humbleness of mind, acknowledge it to thee, who canst pity, forgive, and redress it; so setting ourselves down at the lower end of the table of thy creatures, thou the great Master of the feast mayst be pleased to advance us to the height of glory. than our aid: these, such as may hear of a Christ and sue to him, but will not; a condition so much more fearful, as it is more voluntary. This kind is full of woful variety while some are deaf by an outward CONTEMPLATION II. -THE DEAF AND DUMB obturation, whether by the prejudice of the MAN CURED. OUR Saviour's entrance into the coasts of Tyre and Sidon was not without a miracle, neither was his egress; as the sun neither rises nor sets without light. In his entrance he delivers the daughter of the faithful Syro-Phoenician, in his egress he cures the deaf and dumb. He can no more want work, than that work can want success. Whether the patient were naturally deaf and perfectly dumb, or imperfectly dumb, and accidentally deaf, I labour not: sure I am, that he was so deaf that he could not hear of Christ; so dumb that he could not speak for himself. Good neighbours supply his ears, his tongue; they bring him to Christ. Behold a miracle led in by charity, acted by power, led out by modesty! It was a true office of love to speak thus in the cause of the dumb, to lend senses to him that wanted. Poor man! he had nothing to entreat for him but his impotence; here was neither ear to inform, nor tongue to crave. His friends are sensible of his infirmity, and, unasked, bring him to cure this spiritual service we owe to each other. It is true, we should be quick of hearing of the things of God and of our peace, quick of tongue to call for our helps; but, alas! we are naturally deaf and dumb to good. We have ear and tongue enough for the world: if that do but whisper, we hear it; if that do but draw back, we cry after it; we have neither for God: ever since our ear was lent to the serpent in Paradise, it hath been spiritually deaf; ever since we set our tooth in the forbidden fruit, our tongue hath been speechless to God: and that which was faulty in the root, is worse in the branches. Every soul is more deafened and bedumbed by increasing corruptions, by actual sins. Some ears the infinite mercy of God hath bored, some tongues he hath untied, by the power of regeneration: these are wanting to their holy faculties, if they do not improve themselves in bringing the deaf and dumb unto Christ. There are some deaf and dumb upon necessity, some others upon affectation: those, such as live either out of the pale of the church, or under a spiritual tyranny within the church; we have no help for them but our prayers; our pity can reach further teacher, or by secular occasions and distractions; others by the inwardly aposthuming tumours of pride, by the ill vapours of carnal affections, of froward resolutions: all of them, like the deaf adder, have their ears shut to the divine Charmer. O miserable condition of foolish men, so peevishly averse from their own salvation, so much more worthy of our commiseration, as it is more incapable of their own! These are the men whose cure we must labour, whom we must bring to Christ by admonitions, by threats, by authority, and, if need be, by wholesome compulsions. They do not only lend their hand to the deaf and dumb, but their tongue also; they say for him that which he could not but wish to say for himself. Doubtless they had made signs to him of what they intended, and, finding him forward in his desires, now they speak to Christ for him. Every man lightly hath a tongue to speak for himself; happy is he that keeps a tongue for other men. We are charged not with supplications only, but with intercessions: herein is both the largest improvement of our love, and most effectual. No distance can hinder this fruit of our devotion. Thus we may oblige those that we shall never see, those that can never thank us. This beneficence cannot impoverish us; the more we give, we have still the more. It is a safe and happy store, that cannot be impaired by our bounty. What was their suit, but that Christ would put his hand upon the patient? not that they would prescribe the means, or imply a necessity of his touch; but for that they saw this was the ordinary course both of Christ and his disciples, by touching to heal. Our prayers must be directed to the usual proceedings of God: his actions must be the rule of our prayers; our prayers may not prescribe his actions. That gracious Saviour, who is wont to exceed our desires, does more than they sue for: not only doth he touch the party, but takes him by the hand, and leads him from the multitude. He that would be healed of his spiritual infirmities, must be sequestered from the throng of the world. There is a good use, in due times, of solitariness; that soul can never enjoy God, that is not sometimes retired. The modest Bridegroom of the church will not impart himself to his spouse .. before company. Or perhaps this secession | how well thou likest that there should be a was for our example, of a willing and care- ceremonious carriage of thy solemn actions, ful avoidance of vain glory in our actions. which thou pleasest to produce clothed with Whence also it is, that our Saviour gives such circumstantial forms? an aftercharge of secrecy. He that could say, He that doeth evil hateth the light,' escheweth the light even in good. To seek our own glory, is not glory. Although, besides this bashful desire of obscurity, here is a meet regard of opportunity in the carriage of our actions. The envy of the Scribes and Pharisees might trouble the passage of his divine ministry; their exasperation is wisely declined by this retiring. He in whose hands time is, knows how to make his best choice of seasons: neither was it our Saviour's meaning to have this miracle buried, but hid. Wisdom hath no better improvement than in distinguishing times, and discreetly marshalling the circumstances of our actions; which, whosoever neglects, shall be sure to shame his work, and mar his hopes. Is there a spiritual patient to be cured? aside with him: to undertake him before the face of the multitude, is to wound, not to heal him. Reproof and good counsel must be like our alms, in secret; so as, if possible, one ear or hand might not be conscious to other: as, in some cases, confession, so our reprehension must be auricular. The discreet chirurgeon that would cure a modest patient, whose secret complaint hath in it more shame than pain, shuts out all eyes save his own. It is enough for the God of justice to say, "Thou didst it secretly, but I will do it before all Israel, and before this sun." Our limited and imperfect wisdom must teach us to apply private redresses to private maladies: it is the best remedy that is least seen, and most felt. What means this variety of ceremony. O Saviour, how many parts of thee are here active? Thy finger is put into the ear, thy spittle toucheth the tongue, thine eyes look up, thy lungs sigh, thy lips move to an Ephphatha: thy word alone, thy beck alone, thy wish alone, yea, the least act of velleity from thee, might have wrought this cure. Why wouldst thou employ so much of thyself in this work? Was it to show thy liberty, in not always equally exercising the power of thy deity? in that one while thine only command shall raise the dead, and eject devils; another while thou wouldst accommodate thyself to the mean and homely fashions of natural agents, and, condescending to our senses and customs, take those ways which may carry some more near respect to the cure intended? Or was it to teach us It did not content thee to put one finger into one ear, but into either ear wouldst thou put a finger: both ears equally needed cure; thou wouldst apply the means of cure to both. The Spirit of God is the finger of God: then dost thou, O Saviour, put thy finger into our ear, when thy Spirit enables us to hear effectually. If we thrust our own fingers into our ears, using such human persuasions to ourselves as arise from worldly grounds, we labour in vain : yea, these stopples must needs hinder our hearing the voice of God. Hence the great philosophers of the ancient world, the learned Rabbins of the synagogue, the great doctors of a false faith, are deaf to spiritual things. It is only that finger of thy Spirit, O blessed Jesus, that can open our ears, and make passage through our ears into our hearts. Let that finger of thine be put into our ears; so shall our deafness be removed, and we shall hear, not the loud thunders of the law, but the gentle whisperings of thy gracious motions to our souls. We hear for ourselves, but we speak for others. Our Saviour was not content to open the ears only, but to untie the tongue. With the ear we hear, with the mouth we confess: the same hand is applied to the tongue, not with a dry touch, but with spittle: in allusion, doubtless, to the removal of the natural impediment of speech. Moisture, we know, glibs the tongue, and makes it apt to motion; how much more from that sacred mouth! There are those whose ears are open, but their mouths are still shut to God; they understand, but do not utter the wonderful things of God. There is but half a cure wrought upon these men; their ear is but open to hear their own judgment, except their mouth be open to confess their Maker and Redeemer. O God, do thou so moisten my tongue with thy graces, that it may run smoothly, "as the pen of a ready writer," to the praise of thy name. While the finger of our Saviour was on the tongue, in the ear of the patient, his eye was in heaven. Never man had so much cause to look up to heaven as he there was his home, there was his throne; He only was "from heaven, heavenly." Each of us hath a good mind homeward, though we meet with better sights abroad: how much more when our home is so glorious, above the region of our peregrination? But thou, O Saviour, hadst not only thy dwelling there, but thy seat of majesty; there the greatest angels adore thee; it is a wonder that thine eye could be ever any where but there. What doth thine eye in this, but teach ours where to be fixed? Every good gift, and every perfect gift, coming down from above, how can we look off from that place whence we receive all good? Thou didst not teach us to say, O infinite God, which art everywhere; but, "O our Father, which art in heaven.' There let us look up to thee. O let not our eyes, our hearts, grovel upon this earth, but let us fasten them "above the hills, whence cometh our salvation:" thence let us acknowledge all the good we receive; thence let us expect all the good we want. Why our Saviour looked up to heaven, though he had heaven in himself, we can see reason enough. But why did he sigh? Surely not for need: the least motion of a thought was in him impetratory: how could he choose but be heard by his Father, who was one with the Father? not for any fear of distrust, but partly for compassion, partly for example, for compassion of those maniold infirmities into which sin had plunged nankind, a pitiful instance whereof was here resented unto him: for example, to fetch 0 ghs from us for the miseries of others, ghs of sorrow for them, sighs of desire for heir redress. This is not the first time nat our Saviour spent sighs, yea tears, upon human distresses. We are not bone of his pone, and flesh of his flesh, if we so feel not he smart of our brethren, that the fire of our passion break forth into the smoke of ighs. "Who is weak, and I am not weak? ho is offended, and I burn not?" Christ was not silent while he cured the mb; his Ephphatha gave life to all these is other actions. His sighing, his spitting, is looking up to heaven, were the acts of a an; but his command of the ear and mouth o open, was the act of God. He could not ommand that which he made not; his word is imperative, ours supplicatory. He doth what he will with us; we do by him what he thinks good to impart. In this mouth the word cannot be severed from the success. Our Saviour's lips are no sooner opened in his Ephphatha, than the mouth of the dumb and the ears of the deaf are opened. At once behold here celerity and perfection. Natural agents work by leisure, by degrees: nothing is done in an instant; by many steps is every thing carried from the entrance to the consummation. Omnipotence knows no rules: no imperfect work can proceed from a cause absolutely perfect. The man hears now more lightly, than if he had never been deaf; and speaks more plainly, than if he had never been tongue-tied: and can we blame him, if he bestowed the handsel of his speech upon the Power that restored it? if the first improvement of his tongue were the praise of the Giver, of the Maker of it? or can we expect other than that our Saviour should say, Thy tongue is free, use it to the praise of Him that made it so; thy ears are open, hear him that bids thee proclaim thy cure upon the house-top? But now, behold, contrarily, he that opens this man's mouth by his powerful word, by the same word shuts it again, charging silence by the same breath wherewith he gave speech: "Tell no man." Those tongues, which interceded for his cure, are charged for the concealment of it. O Saviour, thou knowest the grounds of thine own commands; it is not for us to enquire, but to obey; we may not honour thee with a forbidden celebration. Good meanings have ofttimes proved injurious; those men, whose charity employed their tongues to speak for the dumb man, do now employ the same tongues to speak of his cure, when they should have been dumb. This charge, they imagine, proceeds from an humble modesty in Christ, which the respect to his honour bids them violate. I know not how we itch after those forbidden acts, which, if left to our liberty, we willingly neglect. This prohibition increaseth the rumour; every tongue is busied about this one: what can we make of this, but a well-meant disobedience? O God, I should more gladly publish thy name at thy command. I know thou canst not bid me to dishonour thee; there is no danger of such an injunction: but if thou shouldst bid me to hide the profession of thy name and wondrous works, I should fulfil thy words, and not examine thine intentions. Thou knowest how to win more honour by our silence, than by our promulgation. A forbidden good differs little from evil. What makes our actions to be sin, but thy prohibitions? our judgment avails nothing. If thou forbid us that which we think good, it becomes as faulty to theeward, as that which is originally evil. Take thou charge of thy glory; give me grace to take charge of thy precepts. CONTEMPLATION III. ZACCHEUS. Now was our Saviour walking towards his passion. His last journey had most wonders. Jericho was in his way from Ga. lilee to Jerusalem; he baulks it not, though | house, as the streets of Jericho, may be thronged, and yet but one Zaccneus. As, therefore, in the lottery, when the great prize comes, the trumpet sounds before it; so the news of a convert is proclaimed with "Behold Zaccheus !" Any penitent had been worthy of a shout; but this man, by an eminence, a publican, a chief of the publicans, rich. No name under heaven was so odious as this of a publican; especially to this nation, that stood so high upon their freedom, that every impeachment of it seemed no less than damnable; insomuch as they ask not, Is it fit, or needful? but, "Is it lawful to pay tribute unto Cæsar?" Any office of exaction must needs be heinous to a people so impatient of the yoke; and yet not so much the trade, as the extortion, drew hatred upon this profession: out of both they are deeply infamous. One while they are matched with heathens, another while with harlots, always with sinners: "And behold Zaccheus, a publican." We are all naturally strangers from God; the best is indisposed to grace: yet some there are, whose very calling gives them better advantages. But this catchpollship of Zaccheus carried extortion in the face, and, in a sort, bade defiance to his conversion; yet, behold, from this tolbooth is called both Zacor-cheus to be a disciple, and Matthew to be an apostle. We are in the hand of a cunning workman, that, of the knottiest and crookedest timber can make rafters and ceiling for his own house; that can square the marble or flint, as well as the freest stone. Who can now plead the disadvantage of his place, when he sees a publican come to Christ? No calling can prejudice God's gracious election. Never didst thou, O Saviour, set one step in vain: wheresoever thou art walking, there is some Zaccheus to be won. As in a drought, when we see some weighty cloud hovering over us, we say there is rain for some grounds, wheresoever it falls: the dinances of God bode good to some souls, and happy are they on whom it lights. How justly is Zaccheus brought in with a note of wonder! It is both great and good news to hear of a convert. To see men perverted from God to the world, from truth to heresy, from piety to profaneness, is as common as lamentable; every night such stars fall: but to see a sinner come home to God, is both happy and wondrous to men and angels. I cannot blame that philosopher, who undertaking to write of the hidden miracles of nature, spends most of his discourse upon the generation and formation of man: surely we are "fearfully and wonderfully made!" But how much greater is the miracle of our spiritual regeneration, that a son of wrath, a child of Satan, should be transformed into the son and heir of the ever-living God! O God, thou workest both: but in the one, our spirit animates us; in the other, thine own. Yet some things, which have wonder in them for their worth, lose it for their frequence; this hath no less rarity in it than excellence. How many painful Peters have complained to fish all night, and catch nothing! Many professors, and few converts, hath been ever the lot of the gospel God's To excel in evil must needs be worse. If to be a publican be ill, surely to be an arch-publican is more. What talk we of the chief of publicans, when he that professed himself the chief of sinners, is now among the chief of saints? who can despair of mercy, when he sees one Jericho send both an harlot and a publican to heaven? The trade of Zaccheus was not a greater rub in his way, than his wealth. He that sent word to John for great news, that "The poor receive the gospel," said also, "How hard is it for a rich man to enter into heaven!" This bunch of the camel keeps him from passing the needle's eye; although not by any malignity that is in the creature itself (riches are the gift of God), but by reason of these three pernicious hang-byes, cares, pleasures, pride, which too commonly attend upon wealth: |