But

again, Blessed are they that mourn. furely not for the bare Flendi Voluptas ; nor for any fuch great Defirablenefs, that there is or can be in Tears or Groans, any more than in that which causes them. No, but for fomething elfe, that was abundantly able to make amends for all thefe Sadneffes, in the 5th and 6th Verfes of the fame Chapter. For fuch (fays our Saviour) Jhall be comforted: Which one Word implies in it all the Felicity and Satisfaction that humane Nature is capable of. But now had our Saviour, in Defiance of all their natural Inclinations, preffed these Austerities upon them, as the fole and fufficient Reason and Reward of themselves, furely he had done like one, who neither understood the Nature of Man's Will, nor the true Arts of Perfwafion. And the Cafe had been much the fame, as if Mofes, instead of giving the Ifraelites Water, had bid them quench their Thirft with the Rock. Let this therefore be the fecond Reafon, Why Duty confidered barely as Duty, and abstracted from all Reward, is not fufficient to induce Men to the Practice of it.

3. The third and laft Reason, that I fhall alledge for the fame, is this: That if Duty, confidered barely in itself, ought to be the

fole Motive to Duty, without any Respect to a fubfequent Reward, then thofe two Grand Affections of Hope and Fear ought to have no Influence upon Men, . fo as to move or engage them to the Acts. of Duty at all. The Confequence is moft clear; because the proper Objects, upon which these Affections are to be employed, are future Rewards, and future Punishments; and therefore, if no Regard ought to be had of thefe in Matters of Duty; it will follow, that neither must thofe Affections, which are wholly converfant about Rewards, have any thing to do about Duty, wherein no Confiderations of a Reward ought, upon this Principle, to take place. This, I fay, would be the genuine, unavoidable Confequence of this Doctrine.

But now, fhould any one venture to own fuch an odd and abfurd Paradox, in any of those fober, rational Parts of Christendom, which have not depraved their judging and difcerning Faculties with thofe ftrange, newfound, ecftatick Notions of Religion, which fome (who call themfelves Chriftians, and Christians of the highest Form too) have, in the late Super-reforming Age, taken up amongst us; how unnatural, or rather in0 2 deed,

deed, how romantick would fuch Divinity appear! For all the World acknowledges, that Hope and Fear are the two great Handles, by which the Will of Man is to be taken Hold of, when we would either draw it to Duty, or draw it off from Sin. They are the strongest, and moft efficacious Means to bring fuch Things home to the Will, as are principally apt to move and work upon it. And the greateft, the noblest, and most renowned Actions, that were ever achieved upon the Face of the Earth, have first moved upon the Spring of a projecting Hope, carrying the Mind above all present Discouragements, by the Prospect of some glorious and future Good.

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And therefore he, who, to bring Men to do their Duty heartily, and vigorously, and to the best Advantages of Chriftianity, shall off all Rewards from it, and fo remove the proper Materials which Hope should exert itself upon, does juft as if a Man fhould direct another to fhoot right and true, by forbidding him to take Aim at the Mark; or, as if we should bring a Man to a Race, and firft tie his Legs faft, or cut them off, and then clap him on the Back, and bid him run. He who takes away the Incitements to

Duty,

Duty, dashes the Performance of Duty, and not the Performance only, but the very Attempt alfo For Men do not use to run, only that they may run, but that they may obtain; Labour itielf being certainly one of the worst Rewards of a Man's Pains. And therefore, no wonder, if every Exhortation to Virtue' has just so much Strength in it, as there is in the Argument brought to enforce it. For, if we will be but true to the first Principles of Nature, we fhall find, that all Arguments made use of to perfuade the Mind of Man, must be founded upon fomething, that is grateful, acceptable, and pleafing to Nature; and that, in fhort, is a Man's eafy and comfortable Enjoyment of himself, in all the Powers, Faculties, and Affections, both of his Soul and Body. Which faid Enjoyment in the hard and dry Strokes of Duty and Spiritual Day-Labour, (as I may call it) I am fure is not to be found. For no Man enjoys himself, while he is spending his Spirits, and employing the utmost Intention of his Mind upon fuch Objects, as fhall both put and keep it upon the Stretch; which yet, in the Performance of Duty, every one actually does, or at least, fhould do. In a word, Irksomeness in the whole Course of an Action, O 3

and

and Weariness after it, certainly are not Fruition; but the Actions of bare Duty are naturally accompany ed with both.

Let us, therefore, here once again observe the Course taken by our Saviour himself, when he would raife Men up to fomething fingular and extraordinary, and above the common Pitch of Duty: As in Mark x. 21. we find, how he answered the rich young Heir, enquiring of him the Way to Heaven, Go (fays he) and fell what foever thou haft, and give it all to the Poor. Now certainly, had our Saviour stopped here, this had been as grinding, and as ftripping a Command, as could have well paffed upon a Man; and might indeed have feemed, not fo much a Command to prove, as an Artifice to blow him up; not fo much a Teft, to try his Obedience, as a Trick (like fome Oaths) to worm him out of his Estate. But furely, our Saviour never affected to be King of Beggars, and much lefs to make Men Beggars, the better to King it over them. Nor can we imagine, that he who was all Wisdom and Goodness, would have fo far contradicted both, as to make it a Duty to give Alms, and at the fame Time put Men into a Condition fit. only to receive them, or that he would