' sure of joy unspeakable and insupportable; and at last, perceiv- ' hig a spring of water in his way, he, with some difficulty, alight- ^ ed to cleanse and cool his face and hands, which were drenched ' in blood, tears, and sweat.
' By that spring he sat down and washed, earnestly desiring, if < it were the pleasure of God, that it might be his parting place ' from this world : He said, death had the most amiable face in his ' eye, that ever he behold, except the face of Jesus Christ, which ' made it so ; and that he could not remember (though he belicA^ed
* he should die there) that he had one thought of his dear wife, or ' children, or any other earthly concernment.
' But having drank of that spring, his spirits revived, the blood ' stanched, and he mounted his horse again ; and on he went in the ' same frame of spirit, till he had finished a journey of near thirty
* miles, and came at night to his inn, where, being come, he greatly ' admired how he came thither, that his horse, without his direc-
* tion had brought him thither, and that he fell not all that day, ' which passed not without several trances, of considerable conti- ' nuance.
' Being alighted, the innkeeper came to him, with some astonish- ' ment, (being acquainted with him formerly) O Sir, said he, what ' is the matter with you ? You look like a dead man. Friend, re-
* plied he, I was never better in my life. Shew me my chamber, ' cause my cloak to be cleansed, bum me a little wine, and that is ' all I desire of you for the present. Accordingly it was done, and ' a supper sent up, which he could not touch ; but requested of the ' people that they would not trouble or disturb him for thatiiight. ' All this night passed without one wink of sleep, though he never ' had a sweeter night's rest in all his life. Still, still the joy of the ' Lord overflowed him, and he seemed to be an inhabitant of the ' other world. The next morning being come, he was early on ' horseback again, fearing the divertisemcnt in the inn might be- ' reave him of his joy ; for he said it was now with him, as with a
* man that caiTies a rich treasure about him, who suspects every
* passenger to be a thief: But within a few hours he was sensible
* of the ebbing of the tide, and before night, though there was a ' heavenly serenity and sweet peace upon his spirit, which continued
* long with him, vet the transports of joy were over, and the fine ' edge of his delight blunted. He many years after called that day
* one of the days of heaven, and professed he understood more of ' the light of heaven by it, than by all the books he ever read, or
* discourses he ever had entertained about it."* This was indeed, an extraordinary fore-taste of heaven for degree, but it came in the ordinary way and method of faith and meditation.
A TREATISE OF THE SOUL OF MAN. 59
There are also immediate illapses of heavenly joy in the liearts of believers at some times ; of which we may say as the prophet doth of the dew and rain, " that it tarrieth not for man, nor waiteth for the sons of men ;'' a surprising light and joy, like that, Cant. vi. 12. " Or ever I was aware, my soul made me Uke the chariots of « Aminadab."
There is a witness of the Spirit, distinct from that of water and blood, 1 John v. 8. that is, a witness, or sealing, w^hich comes not in an argumentative way, by reasoning from either justi- fication or sanctification, but seems to come immediately from the Spirit. I know both sorts of testimonies, how clear and sweet so- ever they are for the present, are liable afterwards to be called into question ; but certainly, during the abode of them upon the soul, they are no less than a short salvation, sl real participation of the joy of the Lord. And that which makes them so ravishing and trans- porting is,
(1.) The infinite weight with which the concerns of eternity lie upon the hearts and thoughts of the people of God ; nothing lies so near to their spirits in all the world, as the matters of salvation do, and have still done ever since God thoroughly awakened them in their first effectual conviction. It is said of Luther, " * There " was such a strong impression of God upon his spirit, in his first •' conviction, that there was neither heat, nor blood, nor sense, " nor speech discernible in him." Though it rise to that height but in a few, yet it settles into a deep, serious, and most solemn sense and solicitude in all. This heightens the joy.
(2.) The restlessness of the soul, whilst matters of salvation hang in a dubious suspense, must needs proportionably overflow it >vith joy, when God shall clear it. It was the saying of one, and is the sense of many more, " I have borne (said she) seven children, and they have all cost me dear ; yet could I be well content to bear them all over again, for one glimpse of the love of God to my soul.'' This heightens the joy above expression.
And now, having explained the substance of the doctrine in these twelve p?'opositions, it remains, that, as a mantissa, or cast upon the whole, I farther clear what belongs to this subject, in the solution of several queries about the soul, in its unbodied and separated state ; and though the nature of some of these queries may seem too curious, yet I shall labour to speak according to the rules of sobriety, and contain myself within the line of modesty, in what I shall speak about them. And the first is this ;
Query 1. Whether any notion or conception can he formed of a
• Nee calor, nee sanguis^ nee sensusy nee vox svprressct. Ep. ad. Melanct.
60 A TREATISE OF THE SOUL OF MAN.
separate soul; And if so, how we may he assisted duly to form U, and conceive of it f
Sol. 1. It must be acknowledged not only very difficult, but an impossible task, for a soul immersed in matter, and so unacquainted with its o\^Ti nature and powers, as it is in its embodied state, to gain a perfect, clear, and adequate conception of what it shall be in the world to come. Expect not then a perfect image, much less any magnificent draught of this excellent creature ; this would be the same thing, as to go about to paint the sun in its glory, motions, and influences with a pencil. I shall think I have done enough, if I can but give you any umbrage, or faint representation of this sub- lime and spiritual being, and the manner of its subsisting and act- ing out of the body. For, seeing it is by nature invisible, and in most of its actions (whilst it is in the state of composition) it makes the same use of the body and natural spirits, that a scribe doth of his pen and ink, without wliich he cannot decypher the characters which are formed in his fancy ; it must needs be difficult to con- ceive how it subsists and acts in a separate state.