DEATH.

MEDITATION I

S it appointed for all men once to die? O let me wifely confider this, and learn how to live. Let me remember, that the night is coming, wherein no man can work; and therefore let me do what I have to do to day, whilft it is called to day. Let me confider, amidst all my worldly enjoyments, that there will certainly come a time when I fhall be taken from them, whether I will or no; and confidering this, let me not cleave fo faft to them as if I was never to leave them. Let me always be mindful, that I have here no abiding city, that I am a ftranger and a pilgrim in this world, and that my Father's houfe is in another country; and therefore let me not fo firmly fet my affections upon the things of this world, as if they were to be lot and my portion for ever; but let me use them only as conveniencies in my journey, and be ready to part with them, whenever it fhall

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feem good to my Father to call me home. Let me often confider, that this poor body of mine, upon which I fpend now fo much time and care, to trim and adorn it, fhall one day become more noifom than the vileft carrion, that it fhall be laid low in the earth, and become a prey to the worms; and then let me be proud of it if I can. Then fhall all my beauty be turned into duft, and my bones into rottennefs. But my foul fhall ftill live, death has no power over that, it fhall in fpight of death furvive the body, and live to all eternity. Bleffed God! how foolish a creature then am I, who spend all my time in cultivating and adorning this fading and perishing body, and can afford none to my most precious and immortal foul? I am afhamed and confounded at the thoughts of this my great folly, and am refolved for the future what I will do. I will fhew how truly fenfible I am of the worth of my foul, by my care of it; and what a mean opinion I have of this fhort-liv'd body, by regarding it no farther than the good of my foul requires. And, if I do this, I fhall not be afaid to meet death whenever it comes. Death has no fting, but what fin

gives it; if therefore I am careful to pluck out this fting, I need not be afraid of it. If I am careful in my life-time continually to watch my foul, and to keep it pure and undefiled from fin, then may I cry out with St. Paul, O death, where is thy fling? O grave, where is thy victory? Then fhall I fmile, even in the agonies of death, and welcome the kind meffenger that comes to invite me home. But if I difarm not death of this fting, I fhall indeed have reafon to fear him. It will be no wonder if I tremble at the fight of death, when it fhall be to me the gate of hell, and an entrance out of this world into a place of endless and unspeakable torment. wife therefore, O my foul, betimes; remember that nothing but the thoughts of a well-spent life can free thee from the fear, and arm thee against the affaults of death, and refolve fo to live that thou may'ft not be afraid to die. Refolve to be righteous, and then thou fhalt be fo far from fearing death, that thou fhalt have joy and hope in it.

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MEDITATION II.

Is it most certain that I fhall die, but uncertain when? May I be called hence, for any thing I know to the contrary, the next week, or the next day, nay, this very day, or this very moment, why then do I not live in conftant expectation of death? Why do I flatter my self with the hopes of long life, because I am young, healthful, lufty and ftrong? Alas! vain man, does not every day's experience teach thee, that the young die as well as the old, the healthful as well as the fickly, the lufty and ftrong as well as the weak and decrepit? Why then doft thou deceive thy felf by building upon a fandy foundation? Art thou able to say thou wilt be alive to morrow? Alas! poor foul, to morrow is out of thy power, and perhaps thou may'ft never live to see it. thou may'ft in thy fancy extend thy life as far as thou pleafeft, thou may`ft lay projects and designs for many weeks and months, nay, for many years to come; but notwithstanding this, thy Soul may be this night required of thee. Thou art

every moment of thy life in danger of death, and can'ft not tell but that every gafp of breath thou fetcheft may be thy Ïaft. When to thy felf and to thy friends thou feemeft to be fartheft from it, then perhaps art thou indeed nearest to it. What a madness then is it not to be always prepared for it? Were we fure of living any certain time, we might then with fome colour of reason, defer our preparation for death, till we faw it draw near us. But it is downright madness for a man to say, he will prepare for death to morrow, when he knows not but it may come to day. Thou art afraid of miffing any opportunity of improving thy worldly affairs, because thou art not sure that thou shalt ever meet with fuch another. Oh, why art thou not much more afraid of letting thy present opportunities of repentance and preparation for death flip by thee, when thou thy felf confeffeft, that it is hazardous and uncertain, whether thou fhalt live to enjoy the like again. How can'ft thou be fo wife in the trifling concerns of this life, and fo very foolish in the much more important concerns of another? Happy is that man, who, because he knows not when his fa

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