_First_: That the business of prepossession may lead and betray a man
into a false judgment of his own heart. For we may observe, that the
first opinion we take up of anything, or any person, does generally
stick close to us; the nature of the mind being such, that it cannot but
desire, and consequently endeavour to have some certain principles to go
upon, something fixed and unmoveable, whereon it may rest and support
itself. And hence it comes to pass, that some persons are with so much
difficulty brought to think well of a man they have once entertained an
ill opinion of: and perhaps that too for a very absurd and unwarrantable
reason. But how much more difficult then must it be for a man, who takes
up a fond opinion of his own heart long before he has either years or
sense enough to understand it, either to be persuaded out of it by
himself, whom he loveth so well, or by another, whose interest or
diversion it may be to make him ashamed of himself! Then,

_Secondly_: As to the difficulties arising from the inferior appetites
and inclinations, let any man look into his own heart, and observe in
how different a light, and under what different complexions, any two
sins of equal turpitude and malignity do appear to him, if he has but a
strong inclination to the one, and none at all to the other. That which
he has an inclination to, is always drest up in all the false beauty
that a fond and busy imagination can give it; the other appears naked
and deformed, and in all the true circumstances of folly and dishonour.
Thus stealing is a vice that few gentlemen are inclined to; and they
justly think it below the dignity of a man to stoop to so base and low a
sin; but no principle of honour, no workings of the mind and conscience,
not the still voice of mercy, not the dreadful call of judgment, nor any
considerations whatever, can put a stop to that violence and oppression,
that pride and ambition, that revelling and wantonness, which we every
day meet with in the world. Nay, it is easy to observe very different
thoughts in a man, of the sin that he is most fond of, according to, the
different ebbs and flows of his inclination to it For as soon as the
appetite is alarmed, and seizeth upon the heart, a little cloud
gathereth about the head, and spreads a kind of darkness over the face
of the soul, whereby 'tis hindered from taking a clear and distinct view
of things; but no sooner is the appetite tired and satiated, but the
same cloud passes away like a shadow, and a new light springing up in
the mind of a sudden, the man sees much more, both of the folly and of
the danger of the sin, than he did before.

And thus having done with the several reasons why man, the only creature
in the world that can reflect and look into himself, is so very ignorant
of what passes within him, and so much unacquainted with the standing
dispositions and complexions of his own heart: I proceed now, in the

_Third_ and _Last_ place, to lay down several advantages, that do _most
assuredly_ attend a due improvement in the knowledge of ourselves. And,

_First_: One great advantage is, that it tends very much to mortify and
humble a man into a modest and low opinion of himself. For let a man
take a nice and curious inspection into all the several regions of the
heart, and observe every thing irregular and amiss within him: for
instance, how narrow and short-sighted a thing is the understanding;
upon how little reason do we take up an opinion, and upon how much
less sometimes do we lay it down again, how weak and false ground do we
often walk upon with the biggest confidence and assurance, and how
tremulous and doubtful are we very often where no doubt is to be made.
Again; how wild and impertinent, how busy and incoherent a thing is the
imagination, even in the best and wisest men; insomuch that every man
may be said to be mad, but every man does not shew it. Then as to the
passions; how noisy, how turbulent, and how tumultuous are they, how
easy they are stirred and set a-going, how eager and hot in the pursuit,
and what strange disorder and confusion do they throw a man into; so
that he can neither think, nor speak, nor act as he should do, while he
is under the dominion of any one of them.

Thus let every man look with a severe and impartial eye into all the
distinct regions of the heart, and no doubt, several deformities and
irregularities, that he never thought of, will open and disclose
themselves upon so near a view; and rather make the man ashamed of
himself, than proud.

_Secondly:_ A due improvement in the knowledge of ourselves does
certainly secure us from the sly and insinuating assaults of flattery.
There is not in the world a baser and more hateful thing than flattery;
it proceeds from so much falseness and insincerity in the man that gives
it, and often discovers so much weakness and folly in the man that takes
it, that it is hard to tell which of the two is most to be blamed. Every
man of common sense can demonstrate in speculation, and may be fully
convinced, that all the praises and commendations of the whole world can
add no more to the real and intrinsic value of a man, than they can add
to his stature. And yet, for all this, men of the best sense and piety,
when they come down to the practice, cannot forbear thinking much better
of themselves, when they have the good fortune to be spoken well of by
other persons.

But the meaning of this absurd proceeding seems to be no other than
this; there are few men that have so intimate an acquaintance with their
own heart, as to know their own real worth, and how to set a just rate
upon themselves, and therefore they do not know but that he who praises
them most, may be most in the right of it. For, no doubt, if a man were
ignorant of the true value of a thing he loved as well as himself, he
would measure the worth of it according to the esteem of him who bids
most for it, rather than of him that bids less.

Therefore, the most infallible way to disentangle a man from the snares
of flattery, is, to consult and study his own heart; for whoever does
that well, will hardly be so absurd, as to take another man's word,
before his own sense and experience.

_Thirdly:_ Another advantage from this kind of study, is this, that it
teaches a man how to behave himself patiently, when he has the ill
fortune to be censured and abused by other people. For a man who is
thoroughly acquainted with his own heart, does already know more evil of
himself, than anybody else can tell him; and when any one speaks ill of
him, he rather thanks God that he can say no worse. For could his enemy
but look into the dark and hidden recesses of the heart, he considers
what a number of impure thoughts he might there see brooding and
hovering, like a dark cloud, upon the face of the soul; that there he
might take a prospect of the fancy, and view it acting over the several
scenes of pride, of ambition, of envy, of lust, and revenge; that there
he might tell how often a vicious inclination has been restrained, for
no other reason but just to save the man's credit or interest in the
world; and how many unbecoming ingredients have entered into the
composition of his best actions. And now, what man in the whole world
would be able to bear so severe a test, to have every thought and inward
motion of the heart laid open and exposed to the views of his enemies?
But,

_Fourthly_, and _Lastly:_ Another advantage of this kind is, that it
makes men less severe upon other people's faults, and less busy and
industrious in spreading them. For a man, employed at home, inspecting
into his own failings, has not leisure to take notice of every little
spot and blemish that lies scattered upon others. Or if he cannot escape
the sight of them, he always passes the most easy and favourable
construction upon them. Thus, for instance; does the ill he knows of a
man proceed from an unhappy temper and constitution of body? He then
considers with himself, how hard a thing it is, not to be borne down
with the current of the blood and spirits, and accordingly lays some
part of the blame upon the weakness of human nature, for he has felt the
force and rapidity of it within his own breast; though perhaps, in
another instance, he remembers how it rages and swells by opposition;
and though it may be restrained, or diverted for a while, yet it can
hardly ever be totally subdued.

Or has the man sinned out of custom? He then, from his own experience,
traces a habit into the very first rise and imperfect beginnings of it;
and can tell by how slow and insensible advances it creeps upon the
heart; how it works itself by degrees into the very frame and texture of
it, and so passes into a second nature; and consequently he has a just
sense of the great difficulty for him to learn to do good, who has been
long accustomed to do evil.

Or, lastly, has a false opinion betrayed him into a sin? He then calls
to mind what wrong apprehensions he has made of some things himself; how
many opinions, that he once made no doubt of, he has, upon a stricter
examination found to be doubtful and uncertain; how many more to be
unreasonable and absurd. He knows further, that there are a great many
more opinions that he has never yet examined into at all, and which,
however, he still believes, for no other reason, but because he has
believed them so long already without a reason. Thus, upon every
occasion, a man intimately acquainted with himself, consults his own
heart, and makes every man's case to be his own, (and so puts the most
favourable interpretation upon it). Let every man therefore look into
his own heart, before he beginneth to abuse the reputation of another,
and then he will hardly be so absurd as to throw a dart that will so
certainly rebound and wound himself. And thus, through the whole course
of his conversation, let him keep an eye upon that one great
comprehensive rule of Christian duty, on which hangs, not only the law
and the prophets, but the very life and spirit of the Gospel too:
"Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto
them." Which rule, that we may all duly observe, by throwing aside all
scandal and detraction, all spite and rancour, all rudeness and
contempt, all rage and violence, and whatever tends to make conversation
and commerce either uneasy, or troublesome, may the God of peace grant
for Jesus Christ his sake, &c.

Consider what has been said, &c.




ON FALSE WITNESS.


EXODUS, XX. 16.

"Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour."


In those great changes that are made in a country by the prevailing of
one party over another, it is very convenient that the prince, and those
who are in authority under him, should use all just and proper methods
for preventing any mischief to the public from seditious men. And
governors do well, when they encourage any good subject to discover (as
his duty obligeth him) whatever plots or conspiracies may be anyway
dangerous to the state: Neither are they to be blamed, even when they
receive informations from bad men, in order to find out the truth, when
it concerns the public welfare. Every one indeed is naturally inclined
to have an ill opinion of an informer; although it is not impossible but
an honest man may be called by that name. For whoever knoweth anything,
the telling of which would prevent some great evil to his prince, his
country, or his neighbour, is bound in conscience to reveal it. But the
mischief is, that, when parties are violently enflamed, which seemeth
unfortunately to be our case at present, there is never wanting a set of
evil instruments, who, either out of mad zeal, private hatred, or filthy
lucre, are always ready to offer their service to the prevailing side,
and become accusers of their brethren, without any regard to truth or
charity. Holy David numbers this among the chief of his sufferings;
"False witnesses are risen up against me, and such as breathe out
cruelty."[1] Our Saviour and his apostles did likewise undergo the same
distress, as we read both in the Gospels and the Acts.

[Footnote 1:  Psalm xxvii. 12.]

Now, because the sign of false witnessing is so horrible and dangerous
in itself, and so odious to God and man; and because the bitterness of
too many among us is risen to such a height, that it is not easy to know
where it will stop, or how far some weak and wicked minds may be carried
by a mistaken zeal, a malicious temper, or hope of reward, to break this
great commandment delivered in the text; therefore, in order to prevent
this evil, and the consequences of it, at least among you who are my
hearers, I shall,

I. _First_: Shew you several ways by which a man may be called a false
witness against his neighbour.

II. _Secondly_: I shall give you some rules for your conduct and
behaviour, in order to defend yourselves against the malice and cunning
of false accusers.

III. And _lastly_: I shall conclude with shewing you very briefly, how
far it is your duty, as good subjects and good neighbours, to bear
faithful witness, when you are lawfully called to it by those in
authority, or by the sincere advice of your own consciences,

I. As to the first, there are several ways by which a man may be justly
called a false witness against his neighbour.

_First_, According to the direct meaning of the word, when a man
accuseth his neighbour without the least ground of truth. So we read,
that Jezebel hired two sons of Belial to accuse Naboth for blaspheming
God and the King, for which, although he was entirely innocent, he was
stoned to death.[2] And in our age it is not easy, to tell how many men
have lost their lives, been ruined in their fortunes, and put to
ignominious punishment by the downright perjury of false witnesses! The
law itself in such cases being not able to protect the innocent. But
this is so horrible a crime, that it doth not need to be aggravated by
words.

[Footnote 2: i Kings, xxi. 8-13.]

A second way by which a man becometh a false witness is, when he mixeth
falsehood and truth together, or concealeth some circumstances, which,
if they were told; would destroy the falsehoods he uttereth. So the two
false witnesses who accused our Saviour before the chief priests, by a
very little perverting his words, would have made him guilty of a
capital crime: for so it was among the Jews to prophesy any evil against
the Temple: "This fellow said, I am able to destroy the temple of God,
and to build it in three days;"[3] whereas the words, as our Saviour
spoke them, were to another end, and differently expressed: For when the
Jews asked him to shew them a sign, he said, "Destroy this temple, and
in three days I will raise it up." In such cases as these, an innocent
man is half confounded, and looketh as if he were guilty, since he
neither can deny his words, nor perhaps readily strip them from the
malicious additions of a false witness.

[Footnote 3: Mat. xxvi. 6]

_Thirdly_: A man is a false witness, when, in accusing his neighbour, he
endeavoureth to aggravate by his gestures and tone of his voice, or when
he chargeth a man with words which were only repeated or quoted from
somebody else. As if any one should tell me that he heard another speak
certain dangerous and seditious speeches, and I should immediately
accuse him for speaking them himself; and so drop the only circumstance
that made him innocent. This was the case of St Stephen. The false
witness said, "This man ceaseth not to speak blasphemous words against
this holy place and the law."[4] Whereas St Stephen said no such words;
but only repeated some prophecies of Jeremiah or Malachi, which
threatened Jerusalem with destruction if it did not repent. However, by
the fury of the people, this innocent holy person was stoned to death
for words he never spoke.

[Footnote 4: Acts, vi. 13.]

_Fourthly_: The blackest kind of false witnesses are those who do the
office of the devil, by tempting their brethren in order to betray them.
I cannot call to mind any instances of this kind mentioned in Holy
Scripture. But I am afraid, this vile practice hath been too much
followed in the world. When a man's temper hath been so soured by
misfortunes and hard usage, that perhaps he hath reason enough to
complain; then one of these seducers, under the pretence of friendship,
will seem to lament his case, urge the hardships he hath suffered, and
endeavour to raise his passions, until he hath said something that a
malicious informer can pervert or aggravate against him in a court of
justice.

_Fifthly_: Whoever beareth witness against his neighbour, out of a
principle of malice and revenge, from any old grudge, or hatred to his
person; such a man is a false witness in the sight of God, although what
he says be true; because the motive or cause is evil, not to serve his
prince or country, but to gratify his own resentments. And therefore,
although a man thus accused may be very justly punished by the law, yet
this doth by no means acquit the accuser, who, instead of regarding the
public service, intended only to glut his private rage and spite.

_Sixthly_: I number among false witnesses, all those who make a trade of
being informers in hope of favour or reward; and to this end employ
their time, either by listening in public places, to catch up an
accidental word; or in corrupting men's servants to discover any unwary
expression of their master; or thrusting themselves into company, and
then using the most indecent scurrilous language; fastening a thousand
falsehoods and scandals upon a whole party, on purpose to provoke such
an answer as they may turn to an accusation. And truly this ungodly race
is said to be grown so numerous, that men of different parties can
hardly converse together with any security. Even the pulpit hath not
been free from the misrepresentation of these informers; of whom the
clergy have not wanted occasions to complain with holy David: "They
daily mistake my words, all they imagine is to do me evil." Nor is it
any wonder at all, that this trade of informing should be now in a
flourishing condition, since our case is manifestly thus: We are divided
into two parties, with very little charity or temper toward each other;
the prevailing side may talk of past things as they please, with
security; and generally do it in the most provoking words they can
invent; while those who are down, are sometimes tempted to speak in
favour of a lost cause, and therefore, without great caution, must needs
be often caught tripping, and thereby furnish plenty of materials for
witnesses and informers.

_Lastly_: Those may be well reckoned among false witnesses against their
neighbour, who bring him into trouble and punishment by such accusations
as are of no consequence at all to the public, nor can be of any other
use but to create vexation. Such witnesses are those who cannot hear an
idle intemperate expression, but they must immediately run to the
magistrate to inform; or perhaps wrangling in their cups over night,
when they were not able to speak or apprehend three words of common
sense, will pretend to remember everything the next morning, and think
themselves very properly qualified to be accusers of their brethren. God
be thanked, the throne of our King[5] is too firmly settled to be shaken
by the folly and rashness of every sottish companion. And I do not in
the least doubt, that when those in power begin to observe the
falsehood, the prevarication, the aggravating manner, the treachery and
seducing, the malice and revenge, the love of lucre, and lastly, the
trifling accusations in too many wicked people, they will be as ready to
discourage every sort of those whom I have numbered among false
witnesses, as they will be to countenance honest men, who, out of a true
zeal to their prince and country, do, in the innocence of their hearts,
freely discover whatever they may apprehend to be dangerous to either. A
good Christian will think it sufficient to reprove his brother for a
rash unguarded word, where there is neither danger nor evil example to
be apprehended; or, if he will not amend by reproof, avoid his
conversation.

[Footnote 5: George I.]

II. And thus much may serve to shew the several ways whereby a man may
be said to be a false witness against his neighbour. I might have added
one kind more, and it is of those who inform against their neighbour out
of fear of punishment to themselves, which, although it be more
excusable, and hath less of malice than any of the rest, cannot,
however, be justified. I go on, therefore, upon the second head, to give
you some rules for your conduct and behaviour, in order to defend
yourselves against the malice and cunning of false accusers.

It is readily agreed, that innocence is the best protection in the
world; yet that it is not always sufficient without some degree of
prudence, our Saviour himself intimateth to us, by instructing his
disciples "to be wise as serpents, as well as innocent as doves." But if
ever innocence be too weak a defence, it is chiefly so in jealous and
suspicious times, when factions are arrived to an high pitch of
animosity, and the minds of men, instead of being warmed by a true zeal
for religion, are inflamed only by party fury. Neither is virtue itself
a sufficient security in such times, because it is not allowed to be
virtue, otherwise than as it hath a mixture of party.

However, although virtue and innocence are no infallible defence against
perjury, malice, and subornation, yet they are great supports for
enabling us to bear those evils with temper and resignation; and it is
an unspeakable comfort to a good man under the malignity of evil
mercenary tongues, that a few years will carry his appeal to an higher
tribunal, where false witnesses, instead of daring to bring accusations
before an all-seeing Judge, will call for mountains to cover them. As
for earthly judges, they seldom have it in their power; and, God knows,
whether they have it in their will, to mingle mercy with justice; they
are so far from knowing the hearts of the accuser or the accused, that
they cannot know their own; and their understanding is frequently
biassed, although their intentions be just. They are often prejudiced to
causes, parties, and persons, through the infirmity of human nature,
without being sensible themselves that they are so: And therefore,
although God may pardon their errors here, he certainly will not ratify
their sentences hereafter.

However, since as we have before observed, our Saviour prescribeth to us
to be not only harmless as doves, but wise as serpents; give me leave to
prescribe to you some rules, which the most ignorant person may follow
for the conduct of his life, with safety in perilous times, against
false accusers.

1st, Let me advise you to have nothing at all to do with that which is
commonly called politics, or the government of the world, in the nature
of which it is certain you are utterly ignorant, and when your opinion
is wrong, although it proceeds from ignorance, it shall be an accusation
against you. Besides, opinions in government are right or wrong, just
according to the humour and disposition of the times; and, unless you
have judgment to distinguish, you may be punished at one time for what
you would be rewarded in another.

2dly, Be ready at all times, in your words and actions, to shew your
loyalty to the king that reigns over you. This is the plain manifest
doctrine of Holy Scripture: "Submit yourselves to every ordinance of man
for the Lord's sake, whether it be to the king as supreme," &c.[6] And
another apostle telleth us, "The powers that be are ordained of God."
Kings are the ordinances of man by the permission of God, and they are
ordained of God by his instrument man. The powers that be, the present
powers, which are ordained by God, and yet in some sense are the
ordinances of man, are what you must obey, without presuming to examine
into rights and titles; neither can it be reasonably expected, that the
powers in being, or in possession, should suffer their title to be
publicly disputed by subjects without severe punishment. And to say the
truth, there is no duty in religion more easy to the generality of
mankind, than obedience to government: I say to the generality of
mankind; because while their law, and property, and religion are
preserved, it is of no great consequence to them by whom they are
governed, and therefore they are under no temptation to desire a change.

[Footnote 6: I Peter, ii. 13.]

3dly, In order to prevent any charge from the malice of false witnesses,
be sure to avoid intemperance. If it be often so hard for men to govern
their tongues when they are in their right senses, how can they hope to
do it when they are heated with drink? In those cases most men regard
not what they say, and too many not what they swear; neither will a
man's memory, disordered with drunkenness, serve to defend himself, or
satisfy him whether he were guilty or no.

4thly, Avoid, as much as possible, the conversation of those people, who
are given to talk of public persons and affairs, especially of those
whose opinions in such matters are different from yours. I never once
knew any disputes of this kind managed with tolerable temper; but on
both sides they only agree as much as possible to provoke the passions
of each other, indeed with this disadvantage, that he who argueth on the
side of power may speak securely the utmost his malice can invent; while
the other lieth every moment at the mercy of an informer; and the law,
in these cases, will give no allowance at all for passion, inadvertency,
or the highest provocation.

I come now in the last place to shew you how far it is your duty as good
subjects and good neighbours to bear faithful witness, when you are
lawfully called to it by those in authority, or by the sincere advice of
your own consciences.

In what I have hitherto said, you easily find, that I do not talk of
bearing witness in general, which is and may be lawful upon a thousand
accounts in relation to property and other matters, and wherein there
are many scandalous corruptions, almost peculiar to this country, which
would require to be handled by themselves. But I have confined my
discourse only to that branch of bearing false witness, whereby the
public is injured in the safety or honour of the prince, or those in
authority under him.

In order therefore to be a faithful witness, it is first necessary that
a man doth not undertake it from the least prospect of any private
advantage to himself. The smallest mixture of that leaven will sour the
whole lump. Interest will infallibly bias his judgment, although he be
ever so firmly resolved to say nothing but truth. He cannot serve God
and Mammon; but as interest is his chief end, he will use the most
effectual means to advance it. He will aggravate circumstances to make
his testimony valuable; he will be sorry if the person he accuseth
should be able to clear himself; in short, he is labouring a point which
he thinks necessary to his own good; and it would be a disappointment to
him, that his neighbour should prove innocent.

5thly, Every good subject is obliged to bear witness against his
neighbour, for any action or words, the telling of which would be of
advantage to the public, and the concealment dangerous, or of ill
example. Of this nature are all plots and conspiracies against the peace
of a nation, all disgraceful words against a prince, such as clearly
discover a disloyal and rebellious heart: But where our prince and
country can possibly receive no damage or disgrace; where no scandal or
ill example is given; and our neighbour, it may be, provoked by us,
happeneth privately to drop a rash or indiscreet word, which in
strictness of law might bring him under trouble, perhaps to his utter
undoing; there we are obliged, we ought, to proceed no further than
warning and reproof.

In describing to you the several kinds of false witnesses, I have made
it less necessary to dwell much longer upon this head; because a
faithful witness like everything else is known by his contrary:
Therefore it would be only a repetition of what I have already said to
tell you, that the strictest truth is required in a witness; that he
should be wholly free from malice against the person he accuses; that he
should not aggravate the smallest circumstance against the criminal, nor
conceal the smallest in his favour; and to crown all, though I have
hinted it before, that the only cause or motive of his undertaking an
office, so subject to censure, and so difficult to perform, should be
the safety and service of his prince and country.

Under these conditions and limitations (but not otherwise,) there is no
manner of doubt but a good man may lawfully and justly become a witness
in behalf of the public, and may perform that office (in its own nature
not very desirable) with honour and integrity. For the command in the
text is positive as well as negative; that is to say, as we are directed
not to bear false witness against our neighbour, so we are to bear true.
Next to the word of God, and the advice of teachers, every man's
conscience, strictly examined, will be his best director in this weighty
point; and to that I shall leave him.

It might perhaps be thought proper to have added something by way of
advice to those who are unhappily engaged in this abominable trade and
sin of bearing false witness; but I am far from believing or supposing
any of that destructive tribe are now my hearers. I look upon them as a
sort of people that seldom frequent these holy places, where they can
hardly pick up any materials to serve their turn, unless they think it
worth their while to misrepresent or pervert the words of the preacher:
And whoever is that way disposed, I doubt, cannot be in a very good
condition to edify and reform himself by what he heareth. God in his
mercy preserve us from all the guilt of this grievous sin forbidden in
my text, and from the snares of those who are guilty of it!

I shall conclude with one or two precepts given by Moses, from God, to
the children of Israel, in the xxiiid of Exod. 1, 2.

"Thou shalt not raise a false report: Put not thine hand with the
wicked, to be an unrighteous witness.

"Thou shalt not follow a multitude to do evil, neither shalt them speak
in a cause to decline after many, to wrest judgment."

Now to God the Father, &c.




ON THE WISDOM OF THIS WORLD.[1]

[Footnote 1: The title of this sermon as given in Contents of Swift's
"Works," vol. viii., pt. i. (4to, 1765) is, "A Sermon upon the
Excellence of Christianity in Opposition to Heathen Philosophy." [T.S.]]


I COR. III. 19.

"The wisdom of this world is foolishness with God."


It is remarkable that, about the time of our Saviour's coming into the
world, all kinds of learning flourished to a very great degree, insomuch
that nothing is more frequent in the mouths of many men, even such who
pretend to read and to know, than an extravagant praise and opinion of
the wisdom and virtue of the Gentile sages of those days, and likewise
of those ancient philosophers who went before them, whose doctrines are
left upon record either by themselves or other writers. As far as this
may be taken for granted, it may be said, that the providence of God
brought this about for several very wise ends and purposes: For, it is
certain that these philosophers had been a long time before searching
out where to fix the true happiness of man; and, not being able to agree
upon any certainty about it, they could not possibly but conclude, if
they judged impartially, that all their enquiries were, in the end, but
vain and fruitless; the consequence of which must be not only an
acknowledgment of the weakness of all human wisdom, but likewise an open
passage hereby made, for the letting in those beams of light, which the
glorious sunshine of the Gospel then brought into the world, by
revealing those hidden truths, which they had so long before been
labouring to discover, and fixing the general happiness of mankind
beyond all controversy and dispute. And therefore the providence of God
wisely suffered men of deep genius and learning then to arise, who
should search into the truth of the Gospel now made known, and canvass
its doctrines with all the subtilty and knowledge they were masters of,
and in the end freely acknowledge that to be the true wisdom only "which
cometh from above." (James, iii. 15, 16, 17.)

However, to make a further enquiry into the truth of this observation, I
doubt not but there is reason to think that a great many of those
encomiums given to ancient philosophers are taken upon trust, and by a
sort of men who are not very likely to be at the pains of an enquiry
that would employ so much time and thinking. For the usual ends why men
affect this kind of discourse, appear generally to be either out of
ostentation, that they may pass upon the world for persons of great
knowledge and observation; or, what is worse, there are some who highly
exalt the wisdom of those Gentile sages, thereby obliquely to glance at
and traduce Divine Revelation, and more especially that of the Gospel;
for the consequence they would have us draw is this: That, since those
ancient philosophers rose to a greater pitch of wisdom and virtue than
was ever known among Christians, and all this purely upon the strength
of their own reason and liberty of thinking, therefore it must follow,
that either all Revelation is false, or, what is worse, that it has
depraved the nature of man, and left him worse than it found him.

But this high opinion of heathen wisdom is not very ancient in the
world, nor at all countenanced from primitive times: Our Saviour had but
a low esteem of it, as appears by His treatment of the Pharisees and
Sadducees, who followed the doctrines of Plato and Epicurus. St Paul
likewise, who was well versed in all the Grecian literature, seems very
much to despise their philosophy, as we find in his writings, cautioning
the Colossians to "beware lest any man spoil them through philosophy and
vain deceit." And, in another place, he advises Timothy to "avoid
profane and vain babblings, and oppositions of science, falsely so
called;" that is, not to introduce into the Christian doctrine the
janglings of those vain philosophers, which they would pass upon the
world for science. And the reasons he gives are, first, That those who
professed them did err concerning the faith:

Secondly, Because the knowledge of them did encrease ungodliness, vain
babblings being otherways expounded vanities, or empty sounds; that is,
tedious disputes about words, which the philosophers were always so full
of, and which were the natural product of disputes and dissensions
between several sects.

Neither had the primitive fathers any great or good opinion of the
heathen philosophy, as it is manifest from several passages in their
writings: So that this vein of affecting to raise the reputation of
those sages so high, is a mode and a vice but of yesterday, assumed
chiefly, as I have said, to disparage revealed knowledge, and the
consequences of it among us.

Now, because this is a prejudice which may prevail with some persons, so
far as to lessen the influence of the Gospel, and whereas therefore this
is an opinion which men of education are like to be encountered with,
when they have produced themselves into the world; I shall endeavour to
shew that their preference of heathen wisdom and virtue, before that of
the Christian, is every way unjust, and grounded upon ignorance or
mistake: In order to which I shall consider four things.

_First_, I shall produce certain points, wherein the wisdom and virtue
of all unrevealed philosophy in general, fell short, and was very
imperfect.

_Secondly_, I shall shew, in several instances, where some of the most
renowned philosophers have been grossly defective in their lessons of
morality.

_Thirdly_, I shall prove the perfection of Christian wisdom, from the
proper characters and marks of it.

_Lastly_, I shall shew that the great examples of wisdom and virtue
among the heathen wise men, were produced by personal merit, and not
influenced by the doctrine of any sect; whereas, in Christianity, it is
quite the contrary.

_First_, I shall produce certain points, wherein the wisdom and virtue
of all unrevealed philosophy in general fell short, and was very
imperfect.

My design is to persuade men, that Christian philosophy is in all things
preferable to heathen wisdom; from which, or its professors, I shall
however have no occasion to detract. They were as wise and as good as it
was possible for them under such disadvantages, and would have probably
been infinitely more with such aids as we enjoy: But our lessons are
certainly much better, however our practices may fail short.

The first point I shall mention is that universal defect which was in
all their schemes, that they could not agree about their chief good, or
wherein to place the happiness of mankind, nor had any of them a
tolerable answer upon this difficulty, to satisfy a reasonable person.
For, to say, as the most plausible of them did, that happiness consisted
in virtue, was but vain babbling, and a mere sound of words, to amuse
others and themselves; because they were not agreed what this virtue
was, or wherein it did consist; and likewise, because several among the
best of them taught quite different things, placing happiness in health
or good fortune, in riches or in honour, where all were agreed that
virtue was not, as I shall have occasion to shew, when I speak of their
particular tenets.

The second great defect in the Gentile philosophy was, that it wanted
some suitable reward proportioned to the better part of man, his mind,
as an encouragement for his progress in virtue. The difficulties they
met with upon the score of this default were great, and not to be
accounted for: Bodily goods, being only suitable to bodily wants, are no
rest at all for the mind; and, if they were, yet are they not the proper
fruits of wisdom and virtue, being equally attainable by the ignorant
and wicked. Now, human nature is so constituted, that we can never
pursue anything heartily but upon hopes of a reward. If we run a race,
it is in expectation of a prize, and the greater the prize the faster we
run; for an incorruptible crown, if we understand it and believe it to
be such, more than a corruptible one. But some of the philosophers gave
all this quite another turn, and pretended to refine so far, as to call
virtue its own reward, and worthy to be followed only for itself:
Whereas, if there be anything in this more than the sound of the words,
it is at least too abstracted to become a universal influencing
principle in the world, and therefore could not be of general use.

It was the want of assigning some happiness, proportioned to the soul of
man, that caused many of them, either, on the one hand, to be sour and
morose, supercilious and untreatable; or, on the other, to fall into the
vulgar pursuits of common men, to hunt after greatness and riches, to
make their court, and to serve occasions; as Plato did to the younger
Dionysius, and Aristotle to Alexander the Great. So impossible is it for
a man, who looks no further than the present world, to fix himself long
in a contemplation where the present world has no part: He has no sure
hold, no firm footing; he can never expect to remove the earth he rests
upon, while he has no support beside for his feet, but wants, like
Archimedes, some other place whereon to stand. To talk of bearing pain
and grief, without any sort of present or future hope, cannot be purely
greatness of spirit; there must be a mixture in it of affectation, and
an alloy of pride, or perhaps is wholly counterfeit.

It is true there has been all along in the world a notion of rewards and
punishments in another life; but it seems to have rather served as an
entertainment to poets, or as a terror of children, than a settled
principle, by which men pretended to govern any of their actions. The
last celebrated words of Socrates, a little before his death, do not
seem to reckon or build much upon any such opinion; and Cæsar made no
scruple to disown it, and ridicule it in open senate.

_Thirdly_, The greatest and wisest of all their philosophers were never
able to give any satisfaction, to others and themselves, in their
notions of a Deity. They were often extremely gross and absurd in their
conceptions; and those who made the fairest conjectures are such as were
generally allowed by the learned to have seen the system of Moses, if I
may so call it, who was in great reputation at that time in the heathen
world, as we find by Diodonis, Justin, Longinus, and other authors; for
the rest, the wisest among them laid aside all notions after a Deity, as
a disquisition vain and fruitless, which indeed it was, upon unrevealed
principles; and those who ventured to engage too far fell into
incoherence and confusion.

_Fourthly_, Those among them who had the justest conceptions of a Divine
Power, and did also admit a Providence, had no notion at all of entirely
relying and depending upon either; they trusted in themselves for all
things: But, as for a trust or dependence upon God, they would not have
understood the phrase; it made no part of the profane style.

Therefore it was, that, in all issues and events, which they could not
reconcile to their own sentiments of reason and justice, they were quite
disconcerted: They had no retreat; but, upon every blow of adverse
fortune, either affected to be indifferent, or grew sullen and severe,
or else yielded and sunk like other men.

Having now produced certain points, wherein the wisdom and virtue of all
unrevealed philosophy fell short, and was very imperfect; I go on, in
the second place, to shew in several instances, where some of the most
renowned philosophers have been grossly defective in their lessons of
morality.

Thales, the founder of the Ionic sect, so celebrated for morality, being
asked how a man might bear ill-fortune with greatest ease, answered, "By
seeing his enemies in a worse condition." An answer truly barbarous,
unworthy of human nature, and which included such consequences as must
destroy all society from the world.

Solon, lamenting the death of a son, one told him, "You lament in vain:"
"Therefore" (said he) "I lament, because it is in vain." This was a
plain confession how imperfect all his philosophy was, and that
something was still wanting. He owned that all his wisdom and morals
were useless, and this upon one of the most frequent accidents in life.
How much better could he have learned to support himself even from
David, by his entire dependence upon God; and that before our Saviour
had advanced the notions of religion to the height and perfection
wherewith He hath instructed His disciples? Plato himself, with all his
refinements, placed happiness in wisdom, health, good fortune, honour,
and riches; and held that they who enjoyed all these were perfectly
happy: Which opinion was indeed unworthy its owner, leaving the wise and
the good man wholly at the mercy of uncertain chance, and to be
miserable without resource.

His scholar, Aristotle, fell more grossly into the same notion; and
plainly affirmed, "That virtue, without the goods of fortune, was not
sufficient for happiness, but that a wise man must be miserable in
poverty and sickness." Nay, Diogenes himself, from whose pride and
singularity one would have looked for other notions, delivered it as his
opinion, "That a poor old man was the most miserable thing in life."

Zeno also and his followers fell into many absurdities, among which
nothing could be greater than that of maintaining all crimes to be
equal, which, instead of making vice hateful, rendered it as a thing
indifferent and familiar to all men.

_Lastly_: Epicurus had no notion of justice but as it was profitable;
and his placing happiness in pleasure, with all the advantages he could
expound it by, was liable to very great exception: For, although he
taught that pleasure did consist in virtue, yet he did not any way fix
or ascertain the boundaries of virtue, as he ought to have done; by
which means he misled his followers into the greatest vices, making
their names to become odious and scandalous, even in the heathen world.

I have produced these few instances from a great many others, to shew
the imperfection of heathen philosophy, wherein I have confined myself
wholly to their morality. And surely we may pronounce upon it in the
words of St James, that "This wisdom descended not from above, but was
earthly and sensual." What if I had produced their absurd notions about
God and the soul? It would then have completed the character given it by
that apostle, and appeared to have been devilish too. But it is easy to
observe, from the nature of these few particulars, that their defects in
morals were purely the flagging and fainting of the mind, for want of a
support by revelation from God.

I proceed therefore, in the third place, to shew the perfection of
Christian wisdom from above, and I shall endeavour to make it appear
from those proper characters and marks of it by the apostle before
mentioned, in the third chapter, and 15th, 16th, and 17th verses.

The words run thus:

"This wisdom descendeth not from above, but is earthly, sensual,
devilish.

"For where envying and strife is, there is confusion, and every evil
work.

"But the wisdom that is from above, is first pure, then peaceable,
gentle, and easy to be intreated, full of mercy and good fruits, without
partiality, and without hypocrisy."

"The wisdom from above is first pure." This purity of the mind and
spirit is peculiar to the Gospel. Our Saviour says, "Blessed are the
pure in heart, for they shall see God." A mind free from all pollution
of lusts shall have a daily vision of God, whereof unrevealed religion
can form no notion. This it is which keeps us unspotted from the world;
and hereby many have been prevailed upon to live in the practice of all
purity, holiness, and righteousness, far beyond the examples of the most
celebrated philosophers.

It is "peaceable, gentle, and easy to be intreated." The Christian
doctrine teacheth us all those dispositions that make us affable and
courteous, gentle and kind, without any morose leaven of pride or
vanity, which entered into the composition of most heathen schemes: So
we are taught to be meek and lowly. Our Saviour's last legacy was peace;
and He commands us to forgive our offending brother unto seventy times
seven. Christian wisdom is full of mercy and good works, teaching the
height of all moral virtues, of which the heathens fall infinitely
short. Plato indeed (and it is worth observing) has somewhere a
dialogue, or part of one, about forgiving our enemies, which was perhaps
the highest strain ever reached by man, without divine assistance; yet
how little is that to what our Saviour commands us? "To love them that
hate us; to bless them that curse us; and do good to them that
despitefully use us."

Christian wisdom is "without partiality;" it is not calculated for this
or that nation of people, but the whole race of mankind: Not so the
philosophical schemes, which were narrow and confined, adapted to their
peculiar towns, governments, or sects; but, "in every nation, he that
feareth God and worketh righteousness, is accepted with Him."

_Lastly_: It is "without hypocrisy:" It appears to be what it really is;
it is all of a piece. By the doctrines of the Gospel we are so far from
being allowed to publish to the world those virtues we have not, that we
are commanded to hide, even from ourselves, those we really have, and
not to let our right hand know what our left hand does; unlike several
branches of the heathen wisdom, which pretended to teach insensibility
and indifference, magnanimity and contempt of life, while, at the same
time, in other parts it belied its own doctrines.

I come now, in the last place, to shew that the great examples of wisdom
and virtue, among the Grecian sages, were produced by personal merit,
and not influenced by the doctrine of any particular sect; whereas, in
Christianity, it is quite the contrary.

The two virtues most celebrated by ancient moralists were Fortitude and
Temperance, as relating to the government of man in his private
capacity, to which their schemes were generally addressed and confined;
and the two instances, wherein those virtues arrived at the greatest
height, were Socrates and Cato. But neither those, nor any other virtues
possessed by these two, were at all owing to any lessons or doctrines of
a sect. For Socrates himself was of none at all; and although Cato was
called a Stoic, it was more from a resemblance of manners in his worst
qualities, than that he avowed himself one of their disciples. The same
may be affirmed of many other great men of antiquity. From whence I
infer, that those who were renowned for virtue among them, were more
obliged to the good natural dispositions of their own minds, than to the
doctrines of any sect they pretended to follow.

On the other side, As the examples of fortitude and patience, among the
primitive Christians, have been infinitely greater and more numerous, so
they were altogether the product of their principles and doctrine; and
were such as the same persons, without those aids, would never have
arrived to. Of this truth most of the apostles, with many thousand
martyrs, are a cloud of witnesses beyond exception. Having therefore
spoken so largely upon the former heads, I shall dwell no longer upon
this.

And, if it should here be objected, Why does not Christianity still
produce the same effects? it is easy to answer, First, That although the
number of pretended Christians be great, yet that of true believers, in
proportion to the other, was never so small; and it is a true lively
faith alone, that by the assistance of God's grace, can influence our
practice.