afflictions; if with David I might say, "Before I was afflicted I went astray: but now have I kept Thy word" (Psal. cxix. 67). O my soul, 'tis better for thee to have thy pride clogged with poverty, thy ambition with reproach, thy carnal expectancies with constant disappointments, than to be at liberty to run from God and duty. 'Tis true, I am sometimes as weary of these troubles as this poor beast is of the clog he draws after him, and often wish myself rid of them; but yet, if God should take them off, for aught I know I might have cause to wish them on again, to prevent a greater mischief. 'Tis storied of Basil, that for many years he was sorely afflicted with an inveterate headache (that was his clog): he often prayed for the removal of it; at last God removed it but instead thereof, he was sorely exercised with the motions and temptations of lust; which when he perceived, he as earnestly desired his headache again, to prevent a greater evil. Lord, if my corruptions may be prevented by my affliction, I refuse not to be clogged with them; but my soul rather desires thou wouldst hasten the time when I shall be for ever freed from them both. An Ecstasy. [In the case of Mr Howe, as we shall presently find, there were two occasions in his life to which he looked back as seasons of supernatural happiness. In his "Treatise of the Soul of Man," Mr Flavel records at length a similar experience; and although, like St Paul in his account of the "Man in Christ" (2 Cor. xii. 2-4), he uses the third person, there can be no doubt that he himself is the subject of the narration, Nor, perhaps, need we wonder that to those men of God were vouchsafed such foretastes of the joys which await spirits made perfect. Were our own thoughts more frequently and continuously fixed on Divine realities, we might occasionally forget the body, and know something of heaven while here on earth.] I have, with good assurance, this account of a minister, who, being alone in a journey, and willing to make the best improvement he could of that day's solitude, set himself to a close examination of the state of his soul, and then of the life to come, and the manner of its being and living in heaven, in the views of all those things which are now pure objects of faith and hope. After a while, he perceived his thoughts begin to fix, and come closer to these great and astonishing things than was usual; and as his mind settled upon them, his affections began to rise with answerable liveliness and vigour. He therefore, whilst he was yet master of his own thoughts, lifted up his heart to God in a short ejaculation, that God would so order it in His providence that he might meet with no interruption from company, or any other accident, in that journey-which was granted him; for in all that day's journey, he neither met, overtook, or was overtaken by any one. Thus going on his way, his thoughts began to swell, and rise higher and higher, like the waters in Ezekiel's vision, till at last they became an overflowing flood. Such was the intention of his mind, such the ravishing tastes of heavenly joys, and such the full assurance of his interest therein, that he utterly lost the sight and sense of this world, and all the concerns thereof; and for some hours knew no more where he was than if he had been in a deep sleep upon his bed. At last he began to perceive himself very faint, and all covered with blood; which, running in abundance from his nose, had discoloured his clothes and his horse, from the shoulder to the hoof. He found himself almost spent, and nature too faint under the prescience of joy unspeakable and unsupport able, and, at last, perceiving a spring of water in his way, he with some difficulty alighted to cleanse and cool his face and hands. By that spring he sat down, earnestly desiring, if it were HEAVEN ON EARTH. 177 the pleasure of God, that it might be his parting place from this world. He says, Death had the most amiable face in his eye that ever he beheld, except the face of Jesus Christ which made it so; and that he could not remember, though he believed he should die there, that he had once thought of his dear wife or children, or any other earthly concernment. But having drank of that spring, his spirits revived, 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 direction, had brought him thither; and that he fell not all that day, which passed not without several trances of considerable continuance. Being alighted, the innkeeper came to him with astonishment, being acquainted with him formerly. "O sir," said he, "what is the matter with you? You look like a dead man." "Friend,” replied he, "I was never better in my life. Shew me my chamber, cause my cloak to be cleansed, burn 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 disturb or trouble him for that night. All this night passed without one wink of sleep, although 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 divertisement in the inn might bereave him of his joy; for, he said, it was now with him as with a man that carries 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, yet the trans ports of joy were over, and the fine edge of delight blunted. He many years after called that day one of the days of heaven, and professed he understood more of the life of heaven by it than by all the books he ever read, or discourses he ever entertained about it. A Wheel within a Wheel. Lord! how stupendous, deep, and wonderful, "A wheel within a wheel" 's the Scripture notion, As thousands of them know not what they do. At this or that their aim they do direct; But neither this nor that is the effect: But something else they do not understand, Deep counsels at their birth this Hand doth break, Men are, like horses, set at every stage, For Providence to ride from age to age; Which, like a post, spurs on, and makes them run JOHN HOWE. FOR lofty symmetry, the mind of Howe has had few equals among the sons of men; and had his powers of expression kept pace with the grandeur of his conceptions and the fervour of his emotions, he would have been peerless among the theological authors of his century. As it is, no wise man will disdain a heap of treasure, because it contains some jewels badly set, or because there are a few mis-shapen bars and ingots mixed up with bags of minted money. Like Flavel, Howe was the son of a godly minister, and was born in the parsonage of Longborough, Leicestershire, May 17, 1630. He commenced his university career at Cambridge, but was early transferred to Oxford, where he became Fellow of Magdalen College, and a member of the Congregational Church under the pastorate of Magdalen's illustrious president, Dr Thomas Goodwin. When he could not have completed his twenty-third year, he was appointed minister of great Torrington, in Devon. There a few years passed very happily. There he married the daughter of Mr Hughes of Plymouth, a minister famed for his learning, and revered for his goodness. There he formed the friendship of the noble family of Russell; and there he preached courses of sermons, which, published as treatises on "The Blessedness of the Righteous," and "On Delighting in God," are likely to live for ever. He had not completed four years at Torrington, when he had an errand to London. On the last Sabbath of his sojourn in the capital, he went to worship in Whitehall Chapel. There the keen eye of Cromwell singled him out, and at the close of |