to the service of Christ her Saviour, whom she had offended. If our satisfaction be not in some kind proportionable to our offence, we are no true penitents. All this while, I hear not one word fall from the mouth of this woman. What need her tongue speak, when her eyes spake, her hands spake? Her gesture, her countenance, her whole carriage, was vocal. I like this silent speaking well, when our actions talk, and our tongues hold their peace. The common practice is contrary; men's tongues are busy, but their hands are still. All their religion lies in their tongue; their hands either do nothing, or ill, so as their profession is but wind, as their words. Wherefore are words, but for expression of the mind? if that could be known by the eye or by the hand, the language of both were alike. There are no words amongst spirits, yet they perfectly understand each other. "The heavens declare the glory of God." All tongues cannot speak so loud as they that have none. Give me the Christian that is seen and not heard. The noise that our tongue makes in a formality of profession, shall, in the silence of our hands, condemn us for hypocrites. injuriously dost thou take this woman for what she was? not conceiving, as well thou mightest, were not this woman a convert, she would never have offered herself into this presence. Her modesty and her tears bewray her change; and if she be changed, why is she censured for what she is not? Lastly, How strongly did it savour of the leaven of thy profession, that thou supposedst, were she what she was, that it could not stand with the knowledge and holiness of a prophet to admit of her least touch, yea, of her presence; whereas, on the one side, outward conversation in itself makes no man unclean or holy, but according to the disposition of the patient; on the other, such was the purity and perfection of this thy glorious guest, that it was not possibly infectible, nor any way obnoxious to the danger of others' sin. He, that said once, "Who touched me?" in regard of virtue issuing from him, never said, whom have I touched? in regard of any contagion incident unto him. We sinful creatures, in whom the prince of this world finds too much, may easily be tainted with other men's sins. He, who came to take away the sins of the world, was incapable of pollution by sin. Had the woman then been still a sinner, thy censure of Christ was proud and unjust. The Pharisee spake, but it was within himself; and now, behold, “Jesus answer The Pharisee saw all this, but with an evil eye. Had he not had some grace, he had never invited such a guest as Jesus; and if he had grace enough, he had never entertained such a thought as this of the guest he invited: "If this man were a pro-ing, said." phet, he would have known what manner of woman it is that toucheth him, for she is a sinner." with words. God, who hears them, judges of them accordingly. So here, the heart of Simon speaks, "Jesus answers." What we think, we speak to our hearts, and we speak to God; and he equally hears, as if it came out of our mouths. Thoughts How many errors in one breath! Justly, are not free. Could men know and conO Simon, hath this one thought lost thee vince them, they would be no less liable to the thank of thy feast. Belike, at the high-censure, than if they came forth clothed est, thou judgedst thy guest but a prophet; and now thou doubtest whether he were so much. Besides this undervaluation, how unjust is the ground of this doubt! Every prophet knew not every thing; yea, no prophet ever knew all things. Elisha knew the very secrets of the Assyrian privychamber; yet he knew not the calamity of his worthy hostess. The finite knowledge of the ablest seer reaches but so far as it will please God to extend it. Well might he therefore have been a prophet, and, in the knowledge of greater matters, not have known this. Unto this, how weakly didst thou, because of Christ's silent admission of the woman, suppose him ignorant of her quality! as if knowledge should be measured always by the noise of expression. Stay but awhile, and thou shalt find that he well knew both her life and thy heart. Besides, how Jesus answers him, but with a parable. He answers many a thought with judgment; the blasphemy of the heart, the murder of the heart, the adultery of the heart, are answered by him with a real vengeance. For Simon, our Saviour saw his error was either out of simple ignorance, or weak mistaking; where he saw no malice, then it is enough to answer with gentle conviction. The convictive answer of Christ is by way of parable. The wisdom of God knows how to circumvent us for our gain; and can speak that pleasingly, by a prudent circumlocution, which downright would not be digested. Had our Saviour said in plain terms, Simon, whether dost thou or this sinner love me more? the Pharisee could not for shame but have stood upon his re putation, and, in a scorn of the comparison, have protested his exceeding respects to Christ. Now, ere he is aware, he is fetched in to give sentence against himself, for her whom he condemned. O Saviour, thou hast made us fishers of men: how should we learn of thee so to bait our hooks, that they may be most likely to take! Thou, the great householder of thy church, hast provided victuals for thy family, thou hast appointed us to dress them: if we do not so cook them, as that they may fit the palates to which they are intended, we do both lose our labour and thy cost. The parable is of two debtors to one creditor; the one owed a lesser sum, the other a greater; both are forgiven. It was not the purpose of him that propounded it, that we should stick in the bark: God is our creditor, our sins our debts; we are all debtors, but one more deep than another. No man can pay this debt alone: satisfaction is not possible; only remission can discharge us. God doth in mercy forgive as well the greatest as the least sins. Our love to God is proportionable to the sense of our remission. So then the Pharisee cannot choose but confess, that the more and greater the sin is, the greater mercy in the forgiveness; and the more mercy in the forgiver, the greater obligation and more love in the forgiven. Truth, from whose mouth soever it falls, is worth taking up: our Saviour praises the true judgment of a Pharisee. It is an injurious indiscretion in those who are so prejudiced against the persons, that they reject the truth. He, that would not quench the smoking flax, encourages even the least good. As the careful chirurgeon strokes the arm ere he strikes the vein, so did Christ here: ere he convinces the Pharisee of his want of love, he graceth him with a fair approbation of his judgment; yet the while turning both his face and his speech to the poor penitent, as one that cared more for a true humiliation for sin, than for a false pretence of respect and innocence. With what a dejected and abashed countenance, with what earth-fixed eyes, do we imagine the poor woman stood, when she saw her Saviour direct his face and words to her. She that durst but stand behind him, and steal the falling of some tears upon his feet, with what a blushing astonishment doth she behold his sidereal countenance cast upon her! While his eyes were turned towards this penitent, his speech was turned to the Pharisee concerning that penitent, by him mistaken: "Seest thou this wo man?" He who before had said, If this man were a prophet, he would have known what manner of woman this is," now hears, "Seest thou this woman?" Simon saw but her outside; Jesus lets him see that he saw her heart, and will thus convince the Pharisee that he is more than a prophet, who knew not her conversation only, but her soul. The Pharisee, that went all by appearance, shall by her deportmert see the proof of her good disposition: it shall happily shame him, to hear the comparison of the wants of his own entertainments, with the abundance of hers. It is strange that any of this formal sect should be defective in their lotions. Simon had not given water to so great a guest ; she washes his feet with her tears. By how much the water of the eye was more precious than the water of the earth, so much was the respect and courtesy of this penitent above the neglected office of the Pharisee. What use was there of a towel, where was no water? she, that made a fountain of her eyes, made precious napery of her hair: that better flax shamed the linen in the Pharisee's chest. A kiss of the cheek had wont to be pledge of the welcome of their guests: Simon neglects to make himself thus happy; she redoubles the kisses of her humble thankfulness upon the blessed feet of her Saviour. The Pharisee omits ordinary oil for the head; she supplies the most precious and fragrant oil to his feet. Now the Pharisee reads his own taxations in her praise, and begins to envy where he had scorned. It is our fault, O Saviour, if we mistake thee. We are ready to think, so thou have the substance of good usage, thou regardest not the compliments and ceremonies. whereas now we see thee to have both meat and welcome in the Pharisee's house, and yet hear thee glance at his neglect of washing, kissing, anointing. Doubtless, omission of due circumstances in thy entertainment may deserve to lose our thanks. Do we pray to thee? do we hear thee preach to us? now we make thee good cheer in our house: but if we perform not these things with the fit decency of our outward carriages, we give thee not thy water, thy kisses, thy oil. Even meet ritual observances are requisite for thy full welcome. Yet how little had these things been regarded, if they had not argued the woman's thankful love to thee, and the ground of that love, sense of her remissior, and the Pharisee's default in both! Love and action. do necessarily evince | each other. True love cannot lurk long unexpressed; it will be looking out at the eyes, creeping out of the mouth, breaking out at the fingers' ends, in some actions of dearness, especially those wherein there is pain and difficulty to the agent, profit or pleasure to the affected. O Lord, in vain shall we profess to love thee, if we do nothing for thee! Since our goodness cannot reach up unto thee, who art our glorious head, let us bestow upon thy feet, thy poor members here below, our tears, our hands, our ointment, and whatever of our gifts or endeavours may testify our thankfulness and love to thee in them. O happy word! "Her sins, which are many, are forgiven her." Methinks I see how this poor penitent revived with this breath; how new life comes into her eyes, new blood into her cheeks, new spirits into her countenance, like unto our mother earth, when, in that first confusion, "God said, Let the earth bring forth grass, the herb that beareth seed, and the fruit-tree yielding fruit;" all runs out into flowers, and blossoms, and leaves, and fruit. Her former tears said, "Who shall deliver me from this body of death?" now her cheerful smiles say, "I thank God, through Jesus Christ my Lord." Seldom ever do we meet with so perfect a penitent; seldom do we find so gracious a dismission. What can be wished of any mortal creature but remission, safety, faith, peace? all these are here met, to make a contrite soul happy; remission the ground of her safety, faith the ground of her peace, safety and salvation the issue of her remission, peace the blessed fruit of her faith. O woman, the perfume that thou broughtst is poor and base, in comparison of those sweet savours of rest and happiness that are returned to thee! Well was that ointment bestowed, wherewith thy soul is sweetened to all eternity. CONTEMPLATION XVII.-MARTHA AND MARY. WE may read long enough ere we find Christ in a house of his own. "The foxes have holes, and the birds have nests:" he that had all, possessed nothing. One while I see him in a publican's house, then in a Pharisee's; now I find him at Martha's. His last entertainment was with some neglect, this with too much solicitude. Our Saviour was now in his way; the sun might as soon stand still as he. The more we move, the liker we are to heaven, and to this God that made it. His progress was to Jerusalem, for some holy feast. He, whose devotion neglected not any of those sacred solemnities, will not neglect the due opportunities of his bodily refreshing: as not thinking it meet to travel and preach harbourless, he diverts (where he knew his welcome) to the village of Bethany. There dwelt the two devout sisters, with their brother, his friend Lazarus : their roof receives him. O happy house, into which the Son of God vouchsafed to set his foot! O blessed women, that had the grace to be the hostesses to the God of heaven! How should I envy your felicity herein, if I did not see the same favour, it I be not wanting to myself, lying open to me! I have two ways to entertain my Saviour; in his members, and in himself: in his members, by charity and hospitableness: "What I do to one of these his little ones, I do to him;" in himself by faith: "If any man open, he will come in and sup with him." O Saviour, thou standest at the door of our hearts, and knockest by the solicitations of thy messengers, by the sense of thy chastisements, by the motions of thy Spirit: if we open to thee by a willing admission and faithful welcome, thou wilt be sure to take up our souls with thy gracious presence, and not to sit with us for a momentary meal, but to dwell with us for ever. Lo! thou didst but call in at Bethany; but here shall be thy rest for everlasting. Martha, it seems, as being the eldest sister, bore the name of the housekeeper: Mary was her assistant in the charge. A blessed pair! sisters not more in nature than grace, in spirit no less than in flesh. How happy a thing is it when all the parties in a family are jointly agreed to entertain Christ! No sooner is Jesus entered into the house, than he falls to preaching; that no time may be lost, he stays not so much as till his meat be made ready, but, while his bodily repast was in hand, provides spiritual food for his hosts. It was his meat and drink to do the will of his Father: he fed more upon his own diet than he could possibly upon theirs; his best cheer was, to see them spiritually fed. How should we, whom he hath called to this sacred func. tion, "be instant in season and out of season!" We are, by his sacred ordination, the lights of the world. No sooner is the candle lighted, than it gives that light which it hath, and never intermits till it be wasted to the snuff. Both the sisters, for a time, sat atten tively listening to the words of Christ. Household occasions call Martha away; Mary sits still at his feet, and hears. Whether shall we more praise her humility or her docility? I do not see her take a stool and sit by him, or a chair and sit above him; but, as desiring to show her heart was as low as her knees, she sits at his feet. She was lowly set, richly warmed with those heavenly beams. The greater submission, the more grace. If there be one hollow in the valley lower than another, thither the waters gather. Martha's house is become a divinity school: Jesus, as the doctor, sits in the chair; Martha, Mary, and the rest, sit as disciples at his feet. Standing implies a readiness of motion; sitting, a settled composedness to this holy attendance. Had these two sisters provided our Saviour never such delicates, and waited on his trencher never so officiously, yet, had they not listened to his instruction, they had not bidden him welcome; neither had he so well liked his entertainment. This was the way to feast him; to feed their ears by his heavenly doctrine: his best cheer is our proficiency, our best cheer is his word. O Saviour, let my soul be thus feasted by thee, do thou thus feast thyself by feeding me: this mutual diet shall be thy praise and my happiness. Though Martha was for the time an attentive hearer, yet now her care of Christ's entertainment carries her into the kitchen; Mary sits still. Neither was Mary more devout than Martha busy: Martha cares to feast Jesus; Mary to be feasted of him. There was more solicitude in Martha's active part; more piety in Mary's sedentary attendance: I know not in whether more zeal. Good Martha was desirous to express her joy and thankfulness for the presence of so blessed a guest, by the actions of her careful and plenteous entertainment. I know not how to censure the holy woman for her excess of care to welcome her Saviour. Sure she herself thought she did well: and, out of that confidence, fears not to complain to Christ of her sister. I do not see her come to her sister, and whisper in her ear the great need of her aid; but she comes to Jesus, and in a kind of unkind expostulation of her neglect, makes her moan to him: "Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone?" Why did she not rather make her first address to her sister? was it for that she knew Mary was so tied by the ears with those adamantine chains that came from the mouth of Christ, that, until his silence and dismission, she had no power to stir? or was it out of an honour and respect to Christ, that, in his presence, she would not presume to call off her sister without his leave? Howsoever, I cannot excuse the holy woman from some weaknesses. It was a fault to measure her sister by herself, and, apprehending her own act to be good, to think her sister could not do well if she did not so too; whereas goodness hath much latitude. Ill is opposed to good, not good to good. Neither in things lawful nor indifferent are others bound to our examples. Mary might hear, Martha might serve, and both do well. Mary did not censure Martha for her rising from the feet of Christ to prepare his meal: neither should Martha have censured Mary for sitting at Christ's feet to feed her soul. It was a fault, that she thought an excessive care of a liberal outward entertainment of Christ was to be preferred to a diligent attention to Christ's spiritual entertainment of them. It was a fault, that she durst presume to question our Saviour of some kind of unrespect to her toil: "Lord, dost thou not care?" What sayest thou, Martha? dost thou challenge the Lord of heaven and earth of incogitancy and neglect? dost thou take upon thee to prescribe unto that infinite wisdom, instead of receiving directions from him? It is well thou mettest with a Saviour, whose gracious mildness knows how to pardon and pity the errors of our zeal. Yet I must needs say, here wanted not fair pretences for the ground of this thy expostulation. Thou, the elder sister, workest; Mary, the younger, sits still; and what work was thine but the hospitable receipt of thy Saviour and his train? Had it been for thine own paunch, or for some carnal friends, it had been less excusable; now it was for Christ himself, to whom thou couldst never be too obsequious. But all this cannot deliver thee from the just blame of this bold subincusation: "Lord, dost thou not care?" How ready is out weakness, upon every slight discontent. ment, to quarrel with our best friend, yea, with our good God! and the more we are put to it, to think ourselves the more neglected, and to challenge God for our neglect ! Do we groan on the bed of our sickness, and, languishing in pain, complain of long hours and weary sides? Straight we think, Lord, dost thou not care that we suffer? Doth God's poor church go to wreck, while the ploughes, ploughing on her back, make long furrows!"Lord, dost thou not care?" But know, O thou feeble and distrustful us, as that our tongues should not be free to reprove faults where we find them. They are base and servile spirits that will have their tongue tied to their teeth. soul, the more thou dost, the more thou | misprision. No obligations may so enthral sufferest, the more thou art cared for neither is God ever so tender over his church, as when it is most exercised. Every pang, and stitch, and gird is first felt of him that sends it. O God, thou knowest our works, and our labour, and our patience: we may be ignorant and diffident, thou canst not but be gracious. It could not but trouble devout Mary to hear her sister's impatient complaint: a complaint of herself to Christ, with such vehemence of passion, as if there had been such strangeness betwixt the two sisters, that the one would do nothing for the other, without an external compulsion from a superior. How can she choose but think, If I have offended, why was I not secretly taxed for it in a sisterly familiarity? what if there had been some little omission? must the whole house ring of it before my Lord, and all his disciples? is this carriage beseeming a sister? is my devotion worthy of a quarrel? Lord, dost thou not care that I am injuriously censured? Yet I hear not a word of reply from that modest mouth. O holy Mary, I admire thy patient silence: thy sister blames thee for thy piety; the disciples afterwards blame thee for thy bounty and cost: not a word falls from thee in a just vindication of thine honour and innocence, but, in a humble taciturnity, thou leavest thine answer to thy Saviour. How should we learn of thee, when we are complained of for well-doing, to seal up our lips, and to expect our righting from above! And how sure, how ready art thou, O Saviour, to speak in the cause of the dumb! "Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things, but one thing is needful, and Mary hath chosen the better part." What needed Mary to speak for herself, when she had such an advocate? Doubtless, Martha was, as it were, divided from herself with the multiplicity of her careful thoughts our Saviour therefore doubles her name in his compellation, that, in such distraction, he may both find and fix her heart. The good woman made full account, that Christ would have sent away her sister with a check, and herself with thanks; but now her hopes fail her; and though she be not directly reproved, yet she hears her sister more approved than she: "Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things." Our Saviour received courtesy from her in her diligent and costly entertainment; yet he would not blanch her error, and smooth her up in her weak ness: This glance towards a reproof implies an an opposition of the condition of the two sisters: themselves were not more near in nature, than their present humour and estate differed. One is opposed to many, necessary to superfluous, solicitude to quiet"Thou art careful and troubled about many things, one thing is necessary." How far then may our care reach to these earthly things? On the one side, O Saviour, thou hast charged us to “take no thought what to eat, drink, put on;" on the other, thy chosen vessel hath told us, that “he that provides not for his family hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel." We may, we must, care for many things, so that our care be for good, and well; for good, both in kind and measure; well, so as our care be free from distraction, from distrust; from distraction, that it hinder us not from the necessary duties of our general calling; from distrust, that we misdoubt not God's providence, while we employ our own. We cannot care for thee, unless we thus care for ourselves, for ours. Alas! how much care do I see everywhere, but how few Marthas! Her care was for her Saviour's entertainment; ours for ourselves. One finds perplexities in his estate, which he desires to extricate; another beats his brains for the raising of his house: one busies his thoughts about the doubtful condition, as he thinks, of the times, and casts in his anxious head the imaginary events of all things, opposing his hopes to his fears; another studies how to avoid the cross blows of an adversary. "Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things." Foolish men! why do we set our hearts upon the rack, and need not? why will we endure to bend under that burden, which more able shoulders have offered to undertake for our ease? Thou hast bidden us, O God, to cast our cares upon thee, with promise to care for us. We do gladly unload ourselves upon thee: O let our care be to depend upon thee, as thine is to provide for us. Whether Martha be pitied or taxed for her sedulity, I am sure Mary is praised for her devotion: "One thing is necessary." Not by way of negation, as if nothing were necessary but this; but by way of comparison, as that nothing is so necessary as this. Earthly occasions must vail to spiritual. Of those three main grounds of all our actions, |