dern wizards have been busy in divining,) should, without more to do, become the subject of so rare capacities and endowments, the author of actions so worthy, and works so wonderful; capable of wisdom and virtue, of knowlege so vast, and of desires so lofty; apt to contemplate truth and affect good; able to recollect things past, and to foresee things future; to search so deep into the causes of things, and disclose so many mysteries of nature; to invent so many arts and sciences, to contrive such projects of policy, and achieve such feats of prowess; briefly, should become capable to design, undertake, and perform all those admirable effects of human wit and industry which we daily see and hear of; how senseless and absurd conceits are these! how can we, without great indignation and regret, entertain such suppositions! No, no it is both ridiculous fondness and monstrous baseness for us to own any parentage from, or any alliance to, things so mean, so very much below us. It is indeed observable that no man can well, or scarce any man hath disowned the receiving his being from God, but hath also in a manner disavowed his own being what he is; that no man denying God hath not also withal denied himself; denied himself to be a man; renounced his reason, his liberty, and other perfections of his nature; rather than acknowlege himself so well descended, hath been ready to confess himself no more than a beast, yea much less than probably beasts are; a mere corporeal machine, a ball of fate and chance, a thing violently tossed and tumbled up and down by bodies all about it. But let these degenerate men vilify their own nature, and disparage themselves as they please, yet those noble perfections of our soul speak its extraction from a higher stock; we cannot, if we consider them well, but acknowlege that,

Mentem e coelesti demissam traximus arce;

or, as Epicharmus said of old, that 'man's reason did sprout from the Divine reason;"" they plainly discover their original to be from a cause itself understanding and knowing, willing freely, resenting things, (if I may so speak,) and moving of itself in a more excellent manner and degree.

Epic. Cl. Alex. Ser. v. pag. 441.

And indeed it is very considerable to our purpose, that while we assert the existence of God, we assert no other thing to be, than such as whereof we can assign a manifest instance or example, as it were, although in degree much inferior; for what can in any degree exist, it is not hard to conceive that possible to exist in any degree, how high soever; what is in kind possible, is in any perfection of degree possible; yea, what we see in a lower degree somewhere to exist, doth probably otherwhere exist in higher perfection. There is therefore scarce any attribute commonly ascribed to God, the existence whereof we can. not show possible, yea very credible, by showing some degree, (I use this word in a large and popular sense, not regarding scholastical nicety,) some participation, some semblance (or, if you please, some shadow) thereof discernible in man; he being indeed a small picture, as it were, wherein God hath drawn and represented himself, giving us to read that of himself in this small volume, which in its proper character and size we could never be able to apprehend; each letter, each line of his excellency being in itself too large for our eye perfectly to view and comprehend.

3. We are, I say, not only God's works, but his children; our souls bearing in their countenance and complexion divers express features of him; especially as at first they were made, and as by improvement of our capacities they may again become. In the substance of man's soul, in its union with things corporeal, in its properties and powers, we may observe divers such resemblances, declaring it in a manner to be what Seneca did say of it, a little God harboured in human body.' For as God, (inhabiting light inaccessible,) being himself invisible, and subject to no sense, discovers himself by manifold effects of wisdom and power; so doth our soul, itself immediately exposed to no sense, show itself by many works of art and in. dustry, wherein she imitates nature and the works of God; although her works in fineness and greatness do indeed come infinitely short of his.

As God by his presence and influence doth, as the philosopher speaks, contain and keep together the whole frame of

Arist. de Mundo.

things,' so that he withdrawing them, it would fall of itself into corruption and ruin; so doth the soul, by its union and secret energy on the body, connect the parts of its body, and preserve it from dissolution, which presently, they being removed, do follow.

As he, in a manner beyond our conception, without any proper extension or composition of parts, doth coexist with, penetrateth, and passeth through all things; so is she, in a - manner also unconceivable, every where present within her bounds, and penetrates all the dimensions of her little world.

As he incomprehensibly, by a word of his mind, or by a mere act of will, doth move the whole frame or any part of nature; so doth she, we cannot tell how, by thinking only, and by willing, wield her body, and determine any member thereof to motion.

As he, not confined by the extension or duration of things, doth at one simple view behold all things, not only present, but past and future, yea, whenever, wherever, however possible; so doth she, making wide excursions out of her narrow mansion in an instant, as it were, or with a marvellous agility, transcend any fixed bounds of time or place; surveys in her thought the most remote regions, stopping no where, and passing over the world's bounds into spaces void and imaginary; reviews ages long since past, and looks forward into those long after to come; sees things in their causes, and, as it were, beyond them, even the possibilities of things that never shall be.

As he performs nothing rashly or vainly, but always with wisest design to the best end; so doth she never set herself on action without some drift, or aim at good' apparent to her.

As he among all the agitations and changes of things without him abides himself immovable, impassible, and immutable; so is she, immediately at least, not disturbed, not altered, not affected by the various motions that surround her; they do not touch her, they cannot stir her; among the many tumults and tempests blustering all about her, she can retain a steady calm and rest: Aristotle himself concluded her to be unmovable, impassible, unmixed, and uncompounded. So fair characters are there of the Divine nature engraven on man's soul: but one chief property thereof we have not as yet touched; whereof, alas! the

lineaments are more faint and less discernible; they being in themselves originally most tender and delicate, and thence apt by our unhappy degeneration to suffer the most, and have thence accordingly been most defaced; goodness I mean; whereof yet, I shall not doubt to say, many goodly relics are extant, and may be observed therein. There do remain, dispersed in the soil of human nature, divers seeds of goodness, of benignity, of ingenuity, which being cherished, excited, and quickened by good culture, do, to common experience, thrust out flowers very lovely, yield fruits very pleasant of virtue and goodness. We see that even the generality of men are prone to approve the laws and rules directing to justice, sincerity, and beneficence; to commend actions suitable unto them, to honor persons practising according to them; as also to distaste, detest, or despise such men, whose principles or tempers incline them to the practice of injury, fraud, malice, and cruelty; yea, even them men generally are apt to dislike, who are so addicted to themselves, as to be backward to do good to others. Yea no man can act according to those rules of justice and goodness without satisfaction of mind; no man can do against them without inward self-condemnation and regret, (as St. Paul did observe for us.) No man hardly is so savage, in whom the receiving kindnesses doth not beget a kindly sense, and an inclination (eo nomine, for that cause barely) to return the like ; which inclination cannot well be ascribed to any other principle than somewhat of ingenuity innate to man.

All men, I suppose, feel in themselves (if at least not hardened by villainous custom) a disposition prompting them to commiserate, yea (even with some trouble and some damage to themselves) to succor and relieve them who are in want, pain, or any distress; even mere strangers, and such from whom they can expect no return of benefit or advantage to themselves.

Many examples occur, in experience and in history, of men who, from dictates of common reason and natural inclinations, (which in this case are not to be separated, both arising from the same source of human nature,) have been very apt freely and liberally to impart unto others somewhat of any good thing they possessed; to sacrifice their own ease, pleasure, profit unto others' benefit; to undergo great pains and hazards for

public good, (the good of their family, of their friends, of their country, of mankind in general ;) and all this without any hope of recompense; except perhaps that commonly they might have some regard to the approbation and acceptance, to the goodwill and gratitude of them, whom their beneficence obliged; which in real esteem is no great derogation to their noble performances; and argues only, there is, together with such a laudable benignity or goodness of nature, (to excite and enliven it,) implanted a natural ambition also, or generosity in man's soul; which being well moderated seems not culpable; since God himself, in return to his most free beneficence, doth expect and require somewhat of thanks and praise; so much as we are able to render to him.

Yea, (although our adversaries will scarce admit so much, for that not supposing any good original, they are unwilling to allow any good derivative; they are as ready to exclude all humanity as divinity; they have commonly, as no opinion of God, so no good opinion of men; feeling little good in themselves, they are willing to think less to be in others; so projecting to excuse themselves, and shroud their own particular faults under the covert of a general naughtiness,) I doubt not to say, there have been many persons in all ages full of very single and sincere good-will toward men, heartily desiring the public good, and compassionating the evils of mankind; ready with their best endeavors to procure and promote the one, to prevent and remove the other, from principles of mere ingenuity or pure nobleness; that with unmovable resolution have persisted in courses tending to such ends, although in them they have encountered dangers, disgraces, and troubles from the ingrateful world, or rather from some men prevalent therein, their envy or spite.

In fine, the wisest observers of man's nature have pronounced him to be a creature gentle and sociable, inclinable to and fit for conversation, apt to keep good order, to observe rules of justice, to embrace any sort of virtue, if well managed, if instructed by good discipline, if guided by good example, if living under the influence of wise laws and virtuous governors. Fierceness, rudeness, craft, malice, all perverse and intractable, all mischievous and vicious dispositions do grow among