All these witty Expreffions, and others of the like Nature, are pleasant and true, they teach well, and flatter the Fancy, but they afford no real Comforts. Therefore to all these learned Doctors, we may fay as Job by the way of Reproach to his Friends that added Sorrow to his Affliction, You are all Phyficians of no Value, How then comfort ye me in vain? Job xiii. 9. When a Patient is afflicted with the Tortures of an unmerciful Gout, or of the Stone in the Kidneys, that forceth from him at every Moment moft grievous Sighs and Groans; if any fhould offer to paint before him his Looks and Grimaces, or fhould counterfeit them ingeniously in his Presence, he would bring him little Eafe to his Torments, but rather encrease to his Vexation and Trouble. The most beautiful Flower alfo can give no Delight to fuch as are rack'd in the Executioner's Hands, or tied to four Horses that are ready to tear him to Pieces. Thus 'tis with the most eloquent and florid Difcourfe; it can bring no Comfort to a Soul that is departing; David's Harp alone can drive away the evil Spirits, and appeafe the Troubles of a wounded Confcience.

But fome may imagine in this general Survey of the wife Follies and Vanity of the Heathen Philofophers; I should except the Stoicks, I confefs, in this particular, who express more Gravity, but they proceed with no better Succefs; nay, when I have well confider'd them, I find them to be far more infufferable, and more impertinent than the reft. For befides that they treat of the Immortality of the Soul in a very doubtful and inconftant manner; the pretended Comforts that they offer, render Death more dreadful.

They tell us, That Death is the End and Centre where all human Afflictions and Miseries cease; therefore 'tis rather to be defired, than avoided or fear'd. They might have fome colourable Reafon for this Conclufion, if they did but difcover beyond the Grave an Happiness which they might now expect and hope; for Death affures them of no other Comfort, but only

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to put a Period to all the Miseries of this wretched Life. Therefore fuch kind of Difcourfes are not properly Comforts, and the Refolution that they beget in us, is but a filly Paffion, much like that of a Criminal upon the Rack, who impatiently wishes for Death, that he might be delivered from the cruel Hands of the Executioners; and longs to be out of these Torments, to get on the Scaffold where he is to be broken upon the Wheel: O miferable Wretch! the Change of Tortures will bring no Eafe to thy Pains. If thou canft not endure patiently the Ropes that unjoint thy Limbs, how wilt thou fuffer the Bar of Iron that shall crack all thy Bones in Pieces? O blind Philofopher! If thou canst not bear the Miseries of this Life, how wilt thou endure the Agonies of Death?

Moreover, they tell us, that the most cruel and painful Death is a noble Occafion to exercife our Vir

tue, and to cause our Co Conftancy and Refolution to ap pear with Admiration. This Difcourfe feems to be plaufible, but in Reality 'tis nothing but Wind; for what availeth this apparent Virtue? it hinders us not from falling into the deepeft Abyfs of Torment and Mifery, but perifheth and dies with its Idolaters. Therefore, fuch as have moft admired it, have at laft acknowledg'd it to be but a Shadow; witness that famous and worthy General who fancied that his Virtue would procure to him the Victory over all the Enemies of the Common-wealth, in whofe Quarrel he took up Arms. When the Battel was loft, and all his ambitious Hopes had deceiv'd him, being ready to ftab himself with his own Sword, he cried out, Oh miferable Virtue! what art thou, but a vain and unprofitable Word, a Name without a Body? He thus exclaimed against his Virtue, that he had formerly ador'd, becaufe it could yield him no Comfort in the Day of his Distress, nor free him from falling into utter Defpair. The most ordinary and useful Comforts they commonly bring, are thefe: That Death is inevitable; that we all enter into the World upon Condition to

go out; that we have as much Caufe to be afflicted with the Day of our Birth, as with the Day of our Death; that Humanity and Immortality are not confiftent; that Death is a Tribute we all owe to Nature; that the Kings and greateft Monarchs are forc'd to pay it, as well as the meaneft Subjects; and that this is fuch an univerfal Law, that it admits of no Exception.

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But thefe kind of Comforts encreafe our Trouble, and add to our Affliction. I have therefore good Reason to speak to thefe grave Philofophers in Job's Language to his troublefome Friends, Miferable Comforters are ye all. For in Truth, they don't only fearch the Wound to the Quick, without any Application of an healing Plaifter, but they alfo tear and widen it, inflame and render it far more grievous. When we are in Hopes of feeing an End to our Calamities, our Mind is comforted, and arms it felf with Conftancy and a patient Refolution; but when we fee our felves caft into an Abyss of Evil, and that no Hopes appear of getting out, we are then overwhelm'd with Grief and Defpair. 'Tis a lamentable Thing to be born to die, but 'tis far more lamentable and grievous to know that Death is not to be avoided, that all the Treafures of the World cannot free us from it. For his Affliction is the greateft, whofe Mifery cannot be cur'd.

This alfo is a falfe and a deceitful Maxim, that the Comfort of the Miferable is to have Companions in Mifery. Tho' many Thousand drink together of the Waters of Marah, they feem no lefs bitter. And altho' thou fhould't be burnt in a Fire where many are confumed, thou shalt not find there a more eafie Abode. Thy Neighbour's Grief does not leffen thy Affliction; their Sickness cannot reftore to thee Health, nor their Death comfort thee against the Approaches of thine own. On the contrary, if thou haft any Senfe of Humanity, thou wilt weep for their Mifery and thine together. 'Tis that which great Xerxes, King of Perfia, practic'd; for upon Review of his nu

merous Army, in which there were 1100000 Men, he confidering that within an Hundred Years fo many brave Captains and Soldiers would be rotting in their Graves, he was moved with Compaffion, and wept. I mention not here the brutish and foolish Opinion of fuch as imagine that Man's Soul is mortal, and perifhes with the Body. This Confideration brings no Comfort, but cafts us into an irrecoverable Despair. For befides the Torments of Hell Fire, there is nothing that can be imagined more dreadful, than a Reducement to a Non-Entity.

'Tis alfo needlefs to mention the Platonifts, who have difcourfed of the Soul's Immortality, and of its Blessedness after this Life, They imagine themselves very acute and fubtile, but their Difcourfes of this Matter are fo grofs and extravagant, that instead of perfuading the Truth, they expofe it to Scorn and Contempt. Let their fond and imaginary Descriptions of the Elysian Fields be Witneffes. For whatsoever they have invented of this kind, hath been reckon'd amongst the Fables and poetical Fictions. Thofe chymerical Gardens under Ground, contain nothing like to the Divine Excellencies and unspeakable Pleafures of the Paradife of God.

Ina Word, feek among the rarest and most preci, ous Treasures of Wit and Learning of the Heathen Antiquity; turn over the Writings of the moft eloquent Orators, of the fubtileft Philofophers, of the most famous Poets; examine the Secrets of the most experienc'd Physicians, confider their Practice, and all the Remedies they prefcribe to the Soul, and you shall find them too unfkilful to perform the leaft Cure. They do but charm and flatter the Disease; they harden us against Evil, they furnish us with a good Exterior, and teach us to bear a good Mein; but they have no real Antedote against the Venom, that kills the Principle of Life, nor Remedy that reaches to the Heart: And as Torrents, that dry up in the hottest Seafons, fuch Confolations that flow

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not from the Fountain of Life, vanish away without effect, and dry up to nothing, when a deep Sorrow, Fear and Affliction feize upon a finful Soul.

It feems, the Compilers of the Heathen Religion, were fenfible of this Truth. For they dedicated Temples, and erected Altars, to all manner of Gods and Goddeffes; not only to Virtues and Health, but also to Vices and Difeafes, to Fear, Cowardice, Anger, the Fever, the Peftilence, and an infinite more, but they left Death out of their Devotions. This is an open Declaration, that they knew not how to ftrike Acquaintance with Death, and win its Efteem and Favour. They had no Sacrifices nor Incense that could allay its Fury; they look'd upon it as their most inhuman and irreconcileable Enemy. The very Name of Death terrify'd them; therefore 'twas one of their most unfortunate Omens. Adrian the Emperor is witness of what I fay He was one of the greatest Princes in former Ages; he made most part of the habitable World yield to his Scepter, and put to Death an infinite Number of Men; but at laft he trembled, and was aftonish'd himself at the Approaches of Death: He had overcome the most barbarous Nations, and tam'd the most favage Beafts, but when he came to this laft Enemy, he had no Weapons fit for the Encounter. Therefore in this Occafion he discovers the Weakness and Unconftancy of his Mind, far more disturb'd than his Body was with the Disease. Sometimes he employed the Magick Art to retard Death; fometimes he made ufe of his Sword and Poison to haften it; at laft he kill'd himself by an Abftinence from Food neceffary to entertain his Life. He had conquer'd all the World, and given Peace and Happiness to his Empire; but he could not overcome himfelf, or appeafe the Troubles of his Confcience. He was fo far from quieting the disturb'd Thoughts of his Soul, that he fuffer'd himself to be overwhelm'd with Defpair; he flatter'd his Soul in haftening its Ruin, for when his Disease gave him Liberty to breathe, he

talk'd.