by lively examples set before their eyes, than by any discourses or reasonings, how strong or convincing soever: the one is more easily apprehended, and leaves a deeper impression, than the other, which does not prevail on us, till, by frequent and serious reflections, we be satisfied about them; and when we hear any one speak well, we are not assured he thinks as he says, but do often suspect he is showing his wit or eloquence at our cost, that he may persuade us into some opinions that may prove gainful to himself. But when we see a man pursuing a constant course of holiness, in the most painful instances, which do most prejudice his visible interests, we have great reason to believe he is in good earnest persuaded of those truths, which engage him to such a conversation.

After the ages of miracles, nothing prevailed so much on the world as the exemplary lives, and the painful martyrdoms of the Christians; which made all sorts of people look, with amazement, on that doctrine that wrought so powerfully on all ranks, and did raise persons of the meanest educations and dispositions, and of the weaker sex, and tender age, to do and suffer beyond what their greatest heroes, and most celebrated philosophers had ever done. And in those days, the apologists for the Christian religion did appeal to the lives of the Christians, to prove their doctrine to be holy; concluding, that there could be nothing but good in that doctrine which made all its votaries such. But, alas! when we write apologies, we must appeal from the lives of most that pretend to be religious, to the rules and precepts of our most holy faith, and must decline the putting the trial of Christianity upon that issue and though, thanks be to God, there are beautiful and shining instances of the power of religion among us; yet, alas! there be too few of them, and they lie hid in vast mixture of others that are nought.

The two great prejudices the tribes of libertines and ruffians are hardened in against religion, are, first, That they do not see those that profess they believe the truths of religion, live, like men who do so, in good earnest: and I have known them to say, that, did they believe

the great God governed all human affairs, and did know all we do, and would call us to an account for it, and reward and punish accordingly, in an endless and unchangeable state, they could not live as the greater part of Christians do, but would presently renounce all the vanities and follies of this world, and give themselves up, wholly, to an holy and exact course of life. Secondly, The other prejudice is, That, as for those in whose deportment they find little to blame, yet they have great cause of suspecting there is some hidden design under it, which will break out, when there is a fit opportunity for it: and they conclude, that such persons are either secretly as bad as others, only disguising it by a more decent deportment, or, that all they do, is a force upon themselves for some secret end or other. And if there be some on whom they can fasten neither of these, (as it is hardly possible but one that is resolved to possess himself with prejudices, will either find, or pretend, some colours for them), then, at last, they judge such persons are morose and sullen, and that they find, either from the disposition of their body, or education, as much satisfaction in such their sour gravity, as others do in all their wanton and extravagant follies.

These prejudices, especially the first, must be discussed by real confutations; and the strict conduct of our lives, as well as our grave and solemn devotions, must shew we are over-ruled by a strong belief of the authority of that law, which governs our whole actions. Nor will our abstaining from gross immoralities be argument enough, since even decency may prevail so far, though, alas! never so little as now, when fools do so generally mock at the shame and sense of sin, (as if that were only the peevishness of a strict and illiberal education), but we must abstain from all those things that are below the gravity of a Christian, and which strengthen a corrupt generation in their vices. What signifies endless gaming, especially when joined with so much avarice and passion as accompany it generally; but that people know not how to dispose of their time, and therefore must play it away, idly at best? What shall be said of those constant crowds at plays, (especially

when the stage is so defiled with atheism, and all sorts of immorality), but that so many persons know not how to fill up so many hours of the day; and, therefore, this contrivance must serve to waste them, and they must feed their eyes and ears with debauching objects, which will either corrupt their minds, or, at least, fill their imaginations with very defiling and hateful representations? as if they were not a sufficient growth of ill thoughts ready to spring up within us, but this must be cultivated and improved by art. What are those perpetual visits, in the giving or receiving of which, most spend the better half of the time in which they are awake? And how trifling, at best, but generally how hurtful, the discourse that pass in those visits are, I leave to those who live in them to declare. How much time is spent in vain-dressing? (not to mention those indecent arts of painting, and other contrivances to corrupt the world) and all, either to feed vanity, or kindle lust. And, after all this, many that live in these things, desire to be thought good Christians, are constant at church, and frequent at the Sacrament. What wonder, then, if our libertines, seeing such things in persons that pass for very religious, and having wit enough to discern, that such a deportment does not agree with the belief of an account to be made for all we do, conclude, they do not believe it, otherwise they would not behave themselves as they do. Some failures, now and then, could not justify such an inference; but a habit and course of those things, is an argument against the reality of that belief, which I confess I cannot answer.

But when we have got so far as to escape those things that are blame-worthy, it is far from being all we must aim at it is not enough to be ill; we must be good, and express it in all the instances which our state of life and circumstances call for. Doing good to all, forgiving injuries, comforting all in trouble, supplying the necessities of the poor; but chiefly studying to advance the good of all people's souls as much as we can, improving whatever interests we have in any persons to this end, of raising them to a sense of God and another life: the chief motive we offer to this, being the unaffected

strictness of our own deportment, which will make all our discourses have the greater weight and force in them.

And for the other prejudices, it is true, there is no fence or security against jealousy; yet, we ought carefully to avoid every thing that may be an occasion of it as all secret converse with suspected persons; the doing any thing (that, without sin, we may forbear) which is singular, or may bring a disesteem on others, or may make us be observed or talked of: and, in a word, to shun all forced gestures, or modes of speech, and every thing that is not native and genuine; for, let men think what they will, nothing that is constrained, can ever become so natural, but it will appear loathsome and affected to others; which must needs afford matter of jealousy and disesteem, especially to all prying and critical observers.

Were there many who did live thus, the atheists would be more convinced, at least, more ashamed, and out of countenance, than the most learned writings or laboured sermons could make them: especially if a spirit of universal love and goodness did appear more among Christians, and those factions and animosities were laid aside, which both weaken the inward vitals of holiness, and expose them to the scorn of their adversaries, and make them an easy prey to every aggressor. There is scarce a more unaccountable thing to be imagined, than to see a company of men professing a religion, (one great and main precept whereof is mutual love, forbearance, gentleness of spirit, and compassion to all sorts of persons,) and agreeing in all the essential parts of its doctrine, and differing only in some less material, and more disputable things, yet maintaining those differences with a zeal so disproportioned to the value of them, and persecuting all that disagree from them, with all possible violence or if they want means to use outward force, with all bitterness of spirit: they must needs astonish every impartial beholder, and raise great prejudices against such person's religion, as made up of contradictions-possessing love, but breaking out in all the acts of hatred.

But the deep sense I have of these things have carried me too far; my design, in this preface, being only to introduce the following discourse, which was written by a pious and learned countryman of mine, for the private use of a noble friend of his, without the least design of making it more public. Others seeing it, were much taken both with the excellent purposes it contained, and the great clearness and pleasantness of the style, the natural method, and the shortness of it, and desired it might be made a more public good; and knowing I had some interest with the author, it was referred to me, whether it should lie in a private closet, or be let go abroad. I was not long in suspense, having read it over; and the rather, knowing so well as I do, that the author has written out nothing here, but what he himself did well feel and know; and, therefore, it being a transcript of those divine impressions that are upon his own heart, I hope the native and unforced genuineness of it will both more delight and edify the reader. I know these things have been often discoursed, with great advantages both of reason, wit, and eloquence; but the more witnesses that concur in sealing these divine truths with their testimonies, the more evidence is thereby given.

It was upon this account, that the author, having seen a letter, written by a friend of his, to a person of great honour, but far greater worth, "of the Rise and Progress of a Spiritual Life," wherein, as there were many things which he had not touched, (so, in those things of which they both discoursed, the harmony was so great, that he believed they would mutually strengthen one another,) was earnest with his friend that both might go abroad together: and the other pressing him to let his discourse be published, he would not yield to it, until he granted the same consent for his.

And so the reader has both, the one after the other, which he is desired to peruse with some degree of the same seriousness in which they were both penned, and then, it is presumed, he will not repent him of his pains.

G. Burnet.