although the physicians call'd it the hypocondriack melancholy. I had at several times the advice of no less than six and thirty physicians, by whose order I us'd druggs without number almost, which God thought not fit to make successful for a cure: and indeed all authors that I read acquainted me that my disease was incurable; whereupon I at last forsook the doctors for the most part, except when the urgency of a symptom, or pain, constrained me to seek some present ease. The second mercy which I met with was, that my pains, though daily and almost continual, did not very much disable me from my duty; but I could study, and preach, and walk almost as well if I had been free: (of which more anon).

Cured of Inclination to Gaming.

While I look back to this, it maketh me remember how God at that time did cure my inclination to gaming: About seventeen years of age, being at Ludlow Castle, where many idle gentlemen had little else to do, I had a mind to learn to play at tables; and the best gamester in the house undertook to teach me ! As I remember, the first or second game, when he had so much the better that it was an hundred to one, besides the difference of our skills, the standers by laugh'd at me, as well as he, for not giving it up, and told me the game was lost I knew no more but that it was not lost till all my table-men were lost, and would not give it over till then. He told me that he would lay me an hundred to one of it, and in good earnest laid me down ten shillings to my six pence: as soon as ever the money was down, whereas he told me that there was no possibility of my game, but by one cast often, I had every cast the same I wished, and he had every one according to my desire, so that by that time one could go four or five times about the room his game was gone, which put him in so great an admiration that I took the hint, and believed that the devil had the ruling of the dice, and did it to entice me on to be a gamester. And so I gave him his ten shillings again, and resolved I would never more play at tables whilst I lived.

Fruits of Experience.

I now see more good and more evil in all men than heretofore I did. I see that good men are not so good as I once thought they were, but have more imperfections; and that nearer approach and fuller trial doth make the best appear more weak and faulty than their admirers at a distance think. And I find that few are so bad as either malicious enemies or censorious

separating professors do imagine. In some indeed I find that human nature is corrupted into a greater likeness to devils than I once thought any on earth had been. But even in the wicked, usually there is more for grace to make advantage of, and more to testifie for God and holiness, than I once believed there had been. I less admire gifts of utterance, and bare profession of religion, than I once did; and have much more charity for many who, by the want of gifts, do make an obscurer profession than they. I once thought that almost all that could pray movingly and fluently, and talk well of religion, had been saints. But experience hath opened to me what odious crimes may consist with high profession; and I have met with divers obscure persons, not noted for any extraordinary profession or forwardness in religion, but only to live a quiet blameless life, whom

I have after found to have long lived, as far as I could discern, a truly godly and sanctified life; only, ther prayers and duties were by accident kept secret from other men's observation. Yet he that upon this pretence would confound the godly and the ungodly, may as wel go about to lay heaven and hell together.

Of his own and other Men's Knowledge. Heretofore I knew much less than now, and yet was not half so much acquainted with my ignorance. I had a great delight in the daily new discoveries which I made, and of the light which shined in upon me (like a man that cometh into a country where he never before) but I little knew either how imperfectly I understood those very points whose discovery so much delighted me, nor how much might be said against them. nor how many things I was yet a stranger to: But now I find far greater darkness upon all things, and perceive how very little it is that we know, in comparison of that which we are ignorant of, and have far meaner thoughts of my own understanding, though I must needs know that it is better furnished than it was then. Accordingly I had then a far higher opinion of learned persons and books than I have now; for what I wanted myself, I thought every reverend divine had attained, and was familiarly acquainted with; and what books I understood not by reason of the strangeness of the terms of matter, I the more admired, and thought that others understood their worth. But now experience hath constrained me against my will to know that reverend learned men are imperfect, and know but little as well as I, especially those that think themselves the wisest: and the better I am acquainted with them, the more I perceive that we are all yet in the dark: and the more I am acquainted with holy men, that are all for heaves. and pretend not much to subtilties, the more I valu and honour them. And when I have studied hard to understand some abstruse admired book (as De Scientia Dei, De Providentia circa Malum, De Decretis, De Prædeterminatione, De Libertate Creaturæ, &c.) I have but attained the knowledge of humane imperfections and to see that the author is but a man as well as I. And at first I took more upon my author's credit than now I can do; and when an author was highly com mended to me by others, or pleased me in some part, I was ready to entertain the whole; whereas now I take and leave in the same author, and dissent in some things from him that I like best, as well as from others.

On the Credit due to History.

I am much more cautelous [cautious] in my belief of history than heretofore; not that I run into their extream that will believe nothing because they cannot believe all things. But I am abundantly satisfyed by the experience of this age that there is no believing two sorts of men. ungodly men and partial men (though an honest heathen of no religion may be believed, where enmity against religion byasseth him not): yet a debauched Christian, besides his enmity to the power and practice of his own religion, is seldom without some further byass of interest or faction; especially when these concurr, and a man is both ungodly and ambitious, espousing an interest contrary to a holy heavenly life, and also factious, embodying himself with a sect or party suited to his spirit an! designs, there is no believing his word or oath. If you read any man partially bitter against others, as differing

from him in opinion, or as cross to his greatness, interest, or designs, take heed how you believe any more than the historical evidence distinct from his word compelleth you to believe. The prodigious lies which have been published in this age in matters of fact, with unblushing confidence, even where thousands of multitudes of eye and ear witnesses knew all to be false, doth call men to take heed what history they believe, especially where power and violence affordeth that priviledge to the reporter, that no man dare answer him or detect his fraud, or if they do, their writings are all supprest. As long as men have liberty to examine and contradict one another, one may partly conjecture, by comparing their words, on which side the truth is like to lie. But when great men write history, or flatterers by their appointment, which no man dare contradict, believe it but as you are constrained. Yet in these cases I can freely believe history: 1. If the person shew that he is acquainted with what he saith. 2. And if he shew you the evidences of honesty and conscience, and the fear of God, which may be much perceived in the spirit of a writing. 3. If he appear to be impartial and charitable, and a lover of goodness and of mankind, and not possessed of malignity or personal ill-will and malice, nor carried away by fac tion or personal interest. Conscionable men dare not lye: but faction and interest abate men's tenderness of conscience. And a charitable impartial heathen may speak truth in a love to truth and hatred of a lye; but ambitious malice and false religion will not stick to serve themselves on anything. . . . Sure I am, that as the lies of the Papists, of Luther, Zwinglius, Calvin, and Beza, are visibly malicious and impudent, by the common plenary contradicting evidence, and yet the multitude of their seduced ones believe them all, in despight of truth anl charity; so in this age there have been such things written against parties and persons, whom the writers design to make odious, so notoriously false, as you would think that the sense of their honour at least should have made it impossible for such men to write. My own eyes have read such words and actions asserted with most vehement, iterated, unblushing confidence, which abundance of ear-witnesses, even of their own parties, must needs know to have been altogether false: and therefore having myself now written this history of myself, notwithstanding my protestation that I have not in anything wilfully gone against the truth, I expect no more credit from the reader than the self-evidencing light of the matter, with concurrent rational advantages from persons, and things, and other witnesses, shall constrain him to, if he be a person that is unacquainted with the author himself, and the other evidences of his veracity and credibility.

Character of Cromwell.

And as he went on, though he yet resolved not what form the new Commonwealth should be moulded into, yet he thought it but reasonable that he should be the chief person who had been chief in their deliverance (for the Lord Fairfax he knew had but the name). At last, as he thought it lawful to cut off the king, because he thought he was lawfully conquered, so he thought it lawful to fight against the Scots that would set him up, and to pull down the Presbyterian majority in the Parliament, which would else by restoring him undo all which had cost them so much blood and treasure. And accordingly he conquereth Scotland, and pulleth

down the Parliament: being the easilier perswaded that all this was lawful, because he had a secret byas and eye towards his own exaltation: for he (and his officers) thought that when the king was gone a government there must be, and that no man was so fit for it as he himself, as best deserving it, and as having, by his wit and great interest in the army, the best sufficiency to manage it: yea, they thought that God had called them by successes to govern and take care of the Commonwealth, and of the interest of all his people in the land; and that if they stood by and suffered the Parliament to do that which they thought was dangerous, it would be required at their hands, whom they thought God had made the guardians of the land.

Having thus forced his conscience to justifie all his cause (the cutting off the king, the setting up himself and his adherents, the pulling down the Parliament and the Scots), he thinketh that the end being good and necessary, the necessary means cannot be bad and accordingly he giveth his interest and cause leave to tell him how far sects shall be tollerated and commended, and how far not; and how far the ministry shall be owned and supported, and how far not; yea, and how far professions, promises, and vows shall be kept, or broken; and therefore the Covenant he could not away with; nor the ministers, further than they yielded to his ends, or did not openly resist them. He seemed exceeding open hearted, by a familiar rustick affected carriage (especially to his soldiers in sporting with them) but he thought secrecy a vertue, and dissimulation no vice, and simulation, that is, in plain English, a lie, or perfidiousness, to be a tollerable fault in a case of necessity: being of the same opinion with the Lord Bacon (who was not so precise as learned), that 'the best composition and temperature is, to have openness in fame and opinion, secrecy in habit, dissimulation in seasonable use, and a power to feign if there be no remedy' (Essay 6. pag. 31). Therefore he kept fair with all, saving his open or unreconcileable enemies. He carried it with such dissimulation, that Anabaptists, Independants, and Antinomians did all think that he was one of them: but he never endeavoured to perswade the Presbyterians that he was one of them, but only that he would do them justice, and preserve them, and that he honoured their worth and piety; for he knew that they were not so easily deceived. In a word, he did as our prelates have done, begin low and rise higher in his resolutions as his condition rose, and the promises which he made in his lower condition, he used as the interest of his higher following condition did require, and kept up as much honesty and godliness in the main as his cause and interest would allow (but there they left him) and his name standeth as a monitory monument or pillar to posterity to tell them the instability of man in strong temptations, if God leave him to himself: what great success and victories can do to lift up a mind that once seemed humble: what pride can do to make man selfish, and corrupt the heart with ill designs: what selfishness and ill designs can do to bribe the conscience, and corrupt the judgment, and make men justifie the greatest errours and sins, and set against the clearest truth and duty: what bloodshed and great enormities of life an erring deluded judgment may draw men to, and patronize; and that when God hath dreadful judgments to execute,

an erroneous sectary, or a proud self-seeker, is oftner his instrument than an humble, lamb-like, innocent saint.

Character of Sir Matthew Hale.

He was a man of no quick utterance, but often hesitant; but spake with great reason. He was most precisely just; insomuch as I believe he would have lost all he had in the world rather than do an unjust act. Patient in hearing the tediousest speech which any man had to make for himself. The pillar of justice, the refuge of the subject who feared oppression, and one of the greatest honours of his Majestie's government; for with some other upright judges, he upheld the honour of the English nation, that it fell not into the reproach of arbitrariness, cruelty, and utter confusion. Every man that had a just cause was almost past fear if he could but bring it to the court or assize where he was judge; for the other judges seldom contradicted him. He was the great instrument for rebuilding London; for when an act was made for deciding all controversies that hindered it, he was the constant judge, who for nothing followed the work, and by his prudence and justice removed a multitude of great impediments. His great advantage for innocency was, that he was no lover of riches or of grandeur. His garb was too plain; he studiously avoided all unnecessary familiarity with great persons, and all that manner of living which signifyeth wealth and greatness. He kept no greater a family than myself. I lived in a small house, which, for a pleasant back-side, he had a mind of; but caused a stranger, that he might not be suspected to be the man, to know of me whether I were willing to part with it, before he would meddle with it. In that house he liveth contentedly, without any pomp, and without costly or troublesome retinue or visitors; but not without charity to the poor. He continued the study of physicks and mathematicks still, as his great delight. . . . He had got but a very small estate, though he had long the greatest practice, because he would take but little money, and undertake no more business than he could well despatch. He often offered to the lord chancellor to resign his place, when he was blamed for doing that which he supposed was justice. He had been the learned Selden's intimate friend, and one of his executors; and because the Hobbians and other infidels would have persuaded the world that Selden was of their mind, I desired him to tell me the truth therein. He assured me that Selden was an earnest professor of the Christian faith, and so angry an adversary to Hobbs that he hath rated him out of the room.

Observance of the Sabbath in Baxter's Youth.

I cannot forget that in my youth, in those late times when we lost the labours of some of our conformable godly teachers, for not reading publicly the Book of Sports [re-enforced on the clergy by Laud in 1633] and dancing on the Lord's Day, one of my father's own tenants was the town-piper, hired by the year, for many years together, and the place of the dancing assembly was not a hundred yards from our door. We could not, on the Lord's Day, either read a chapter, or pray, or sing a psalm, or catechise, or instruct a servant, but with the noise of the pipe and tabor, and the shoutings in the street, continually in our ears. Even among a tractable people, we were the common scorn of all the rabble in the streets, and called puritans, precisians, and hypocrites,

because we rather chose to read the Scriptures than to de as they did; though there was no savour of nonconformity in our family. And when the people by the book wer allowed to play and dance out of public service-time, they could so hardly break off their sports that many a time the reader was fain to stay till the piper and players would give over. Sometimes the morris-dancers wou

come into the church in all their linen, and scarfs, ard antic dresses, with morris-bells jingling at their legs; ani as soon as common prayer was read, did haste out pre sently to their play again.

Baxter's Practical Works, in 23 vols., were edited, with a Lite by Orme in 1830; and have been reprinted in four. There *: shorter Lives by Rev. A. B. Grosart (1879), Dean Boyle (1883) and J. H. Davies (1886).

Thomas Goodwin (1600-80), born at Rollesby. in Norfolk, studied at Cambridge, where he was made vicar of Trinity Church; but becoming an Independent, he preached in London, and then t the English congregation at Arnheim, in Holland He was afterwards a member of the Westminster Assembly, chaplain to Cromwell's Council of State, and president of Magdalen College, Oxford. Deprived at the Restoration, he in his later years preached to an Independent congregation London. He published sermons full of fervour, elaborate expositions of Scripture, and some cotroversial pamphlets. His devotional works are still prized by evangelical divines.

John Owen (1616-83), one of the greatest of the Puritan divines, was born at Stadhampton, ir Oxfordshire, and studied at Queen's College with extraordinary diligence and zeal. Driven from the university by Laud's statutes, he became a private chaplain, and having written a polemical Display of Arminianism, was appointed to a living in Essex. He passed from Presbyterianism to Ir dependency, and repeatedly preached before the Long Parliament. Cromwell took him as chaplar to Ireland in 1649, and set him to regulate the affairs of Trinity College; and in 1650 brought him to Edinburgh, where he spent six months. Subse quently he was promoted to the deanery of Christ Church College in Oxford, and soon after to the vice-chancellorship of the university, offices he held till Cromwell's death. He was one of the Triers appointed to purge the Church of scandalous ministers, opposed the giving of the crown t Cromwell, and the year after Cromwell's death was ejected from the deanery. He bought an estate at Stadhampton, and formed a congregation there. After the Restoration he was favoured by Lord Clarendon, who offered him high preferment in the Church if he would conform-an obviously impossible suggestion. Owen also declined invitations from congregations in New England and from Harvard College. Ultimately he ministered to a corgregation of Independents in Leadenhall Street. Spite of his opposition to the Church, Owen's character for singular moderation, together with his repute for ability and influence, secured him the esteem of Churchmen and courtiers, and even of the

king himself, who sent for him, and after a conversation of two hours gave him a thousand guineas to be distributed among those who had suffered most from the penal laws. Owen was a man of vast learning, of very decided views, and a powerful controversialist, though he showed a courtesy and moderation in argument all too unusual on either side in those days. He was appallingly industrious and voluminous as an author. Collected editions of his works appeared in 1828 (28 vols.) and 1850 (24 vols.). Among the works are many sermons, An Exposition on the Epistle to the Hebrews, A Discourse of the Holy Spirit, and The Divine Original and Authority of the Scriptures. style is far from admirable; his argumentation is terribly discursive, wordy, and tedious; yet there are powerful, terse, and memorable passages and pages, as in this passage on sloth from the exposition of the 130th Psalm :

His

Great opportunities for service neglected and great gifts not improved are oftentimes the occasion of plung ing the soul into great depths. Gifts are given to trade withal for God; opportunities are the market-days for that trade to napkin up the one and let slip the other will end in trouble and disconsolation. Disquietments and perplexities of heart are worms that will certainly breed in the rust of unexercised gifts. God loseth a revenue of glory and honour by such slothful souls, and he will make them sensible of it. I know some at this day whose omissions of opportunities for service are ready to sink them into the grave.

The

John Howe (1630–1705), a great Nonconformist divine, was a native of Loughborough, in Leicestershire, where his father was curate. At Cambridge he was the friend of Cudworth and Henry More, and he subsequently studied at Oxford. In 1652 he was ordained minister of Great Torrington, in Devonshire. Upon public fasts he used to begin at nine in the morning with a prayer of a quarter of an hour, then read and expounded Scripture for about three-quarters, prayed an hour, preached another hour, and prayed again for half-an-hour. people then sang for a quarter of an hour, when he retired and took a little refreshment; he then went into the pulpit again, prayed an hour more, preached another hour, and concluded with a prayer of half-an-hour! In 1657 Howe was chosen by Cromwell to reside at Whitehall as one of his chaplains. As he had not coveted the office, he seems never to have liked it. From the affected disorderliness' of the Protector's family in religious matters Howe despaired of doing good in his office. But he continued to be chaplain to the Protector, and, after Oliver's death, to Richard Cromwell. When Richard was set aside the minister returned to Great Torrington, but was ejected by the Act of Uniformity in 1662. He was subsequently a minister in Ireland and London, and found leisure to write those admirable works of practical divinity which ranked him among the most gifted and eminent of the Nonconformist divines of England. From 1685 till the Declaration of Indul

gence the 'Platonic Puritan' was in Holland; and he died in London in 1705. The principal works of John Howe are his Living Temple (1676-1702), a treatise on Delighting in God, The Blessedness of the Righteous, The Vanity of Man as Mortal, a Tractate on the Divine Presence, an Inquiry into the Doctrine of the Trinity, and The Redeemer's Dominion over the Invisible World (1699). Robert Hall acknowledged that he had learned more from John Howe than from any other author he ever read, and said there was 'an astonishing magnificence in his conceptions.' Unhappily the matter of his works is vastly better than the manner; endless digressions render most of his works wearisome, his sentences are unwieldy, and the argument is but rarely illumined by lighter touches. His letters of consolation are admirable for their tenderness and Christian philosophy; that to Lady Russell after the execution of her husband is especially fine: sent unsigned, its authorship was soon discovered, and led to a lifelong friendship. A touching and dignified persuasion not to sorrow as those who have no hope, but to live for duties left, concludes thus:

I multiply words, being loth to lose my design; and shall only add that consideration, which cannot but be valuable with you, upon his first proposal, who had all the advantages imaginable to give it its full weight-I mean that of those dear pledges left behind: my own heart even bleeds to think of the case of those sweet babes, should they be bereaved of their other parent too. And even your continued visible dejection would be their unspeakable disadvantage. You will always naturally create in them a reverence of you; and I cannot but apprehend how the constant mien, aspect, and deportment of such a parent will insensibly influence the temper of dutiful children; and if that be sad and despondent, depress their spirits, blunt and take off the edge and quickness upon which their future usefulness and comfort will much depend. Were it possible their now glorious father should visit and inspect you, would you not be troubled to behold a frown in that bright serene face? You are to please a more penetrating eye, which you will best do by putting on a temper and deportment suitable to your weighty charge and duty, and to the great purposes for which God continues you in the world, by giving over unnecessary solitude and retirement, which (though it pleases) doth really prejudice you, and is more than you can bear. Nor can any rules of decency require more. Nothing that is necessary and truly Christian ought to be reckoned unbecoming. David's example is of too great authority to be counted a pattern of indecency. The God of heaven lift up the light of his countenance upon you, and thereby put gladness into your heart; and give you to apprehend him saying to you, 'Arise and walk in the light of the Lord.'

That I have used so much freedom in this paper, I make no apology for; but do, therefore, hide myself in the dark, not judging it consistent with that plainness which I thought the case might require, to give any other account of myself than that I am one deeply sensible of your and your noble relatives' great affliction, and who scarce ever bow the knee before the mercy-seat without remembering it: and who shall ever be, madam, your

ladyship's most sincere honourer, and most humble devoted servant.

A collected edition of Howe's works, with a Life by Calamy, was published in 1724. Other Lives are by Hunt (1810), Dunn (1836), Urwick (1846), Hewlett (1848), and especially Rogers (1836; new ed. 1879).

John Flavel (1627-91), born at Bromsgrove, and educated at Oxford, took Presbyterian orders in 1650, and was ejected from his living at Dartmouth in 1662. He continued to preach there privately, and after the Declaration of Indulgence (1687) was minister of a Nonconformist church till his death. He published some thirty works, filling in some of the collected editions six volumes. writings were very popular, and sometimes-as in Husbandry Spiritualised and Navigation Spiritualised-show, along with higher qualities, abundance of elaborate ingenuity and perverse fancy.

His

Ralph Cudworth (1617-88), a very learned divine, was a chief of the group of Cambridge Platonists. Born at Aller, in Somerset, he studied at Cambridge, where, in 1645, he was appointed Regius Professor of Hebrew, and that chair he occupied till his death. He held a series of Church livings, and was Master of Christ's College from 1654, an appointment he retained after the Restoration in spite of his submission to the Government of the Commonwealth. His True Intellectual System of the Universe (1678) was designed as a refutation of atheism and contemporary freethinking. It executes only part of his design-the establishment of the three fundamental or essential truths of true religion: First, that all things in the world do not float without a head and governor; but that there is a God, an omnipotent understanding Being, presiding over all. Secondly, that this God being essentially good and just, there is something in its own nature immutably and eternally just and unjust; and not by arbitrary will, law, and command only. And, lastly, that we are so far forth principals or masters of our own actions as to be accountable to justice for them, or to make us guilty and blameworthy for what we do amiss, and to deserve punishment accordingly.' Against Hobbes, he maintained the natural and everlasting distinction between justice and injustice, as also the freedom of the human will; but he differs from most subsequent opponents of Hobbism, in ascribing our recognition of right and wrong entirely to the reasoning faculties, and in no degree to sentiment or emotion. In the Intellectual System ethical questions are but incidentally and occasionally touched upon; but the work is so discursive as to find room for disquisitions on the meaning of the pagan mythology and the relation of the Platonic to the Christian trinity, and though sagacious and large-minded, fatigues by its redundant digressions. In combating the atheists, Cudworth displays a prodigious amount of erudition, and that rare candour which prompts a controversialist to give a fair statement of the opinions and arguments which he means to

refute. This honourable distinction brought up e him the reproach of insincerity; and by some contemporaries the epithets of Arian, Socinia Deist, and even Atheist were freely applied: him. 'He has raised,' says Dryden, ‘such stro objections against the being of a God and Pro dence, that many think he has not answered ther -the common fate,' as Shaftesbury remarked, ‘c those who dare to appear fair authors. The clamour seems to have disheartened the philosopher, who refrained from publishing the other portions of his scheme. He left behind him several manuscr works, one of which, A Treatise concerning Eterni and Immutable Morality, was published in 1731 by Bishop Chandler, and was a real contribution ethics. Some of his unprinted writings are now the British Museum. His sermon before the House of Commons in 1647 shows the best side of the Latitudinarian school of which he was a represen tative, and, according to Mackintosh, may fair be compared with Taylor's Liberty of Prophesyin, (published the year before) 'for charity, piety, and the most liberal toleration.' Dugald Stewart noted that 'the Intellectual System of Cudworth embraces a field much wider than his treatise of Immutch Morality. The latter is particularly directed against the doctrines of Hobbes and of the Antinomians; but the former aspires to tear up by the roots all the principles, both physical and metaphysical, of the Epicurean philosophy. It is a work, certainly, which reflects much honour on the talents of the author, and still more on the boundless extent of his learning; but it is so ill suited to the taste of the present age, that, since the time of Mr Harris and Dr Price, I scarcely recollect the slightest reference to it in the writings of our British metaphysicians.' Interest cannot be said to have revived since Dugald Stewart's time.

The first specimen is the beginning of the famous sermon to the House of Commons (on 1 John 3, 4); the others, fragments from the torso of the Intellectual System.

Of Knowledge and Religion.

We have much enquiry concerning knowledge in these latter times. The sons of Adam are now as busy as eve? himself was about the tree of knowledge of good and evil, shaking the boughs of it, and scrambling for the fruit; whilst, I fear, many are too unmindful of the tree of life. And though there be now no cherubims with ther flaming swords to fright men off from it, yet the way that leads to it seems to be so solitary and untrodden, 25 if there were but few that had any mind to taste of Le fruit of it. There be many that speak of new glimpses and discoveries of truth, of dawnings of gospel-light; and no question but God hath reserved much of this for the very evening and sun-set of the world; for in the latter days knowledge shall be increased: but yet I wish we could in the mean time see that day to dawn which the Apostle speaks of, and that day-star to arise in men's hearts. I wish, whilst we talk of light and dispute about truth, we could walk more as children of the light. Whereas, if S. John's rule be good here in the text, that