Life is a small matter.

bare apprehension of it; beside the vanity of imagining that heaven and earth should be put into such a disorder only for the death of one man. A good, and a brave man, is not moved with lightning, tempest or earthquakes but perhaps he would voluntarily plunge himself into that gulph, where otherwise he should only fall: the cutting of a corn or the swallowing of a fly, is enough to dispatch a man; and it is no matter how great that is, that brings me to my death, so long as death itself is but little. Life is a small matter, but it is a matter of importance to contemn it. Nature that begat us, expels us, and a better and a safer place is provided for us. And what is death, but a ceasing to be what we were before? We are kindled, and put out: to cease to be, and not to begin to be, is the same thing. We die daily, and while we are growing, our life decreases every moment that passes takes away part of it; all that is past is lost, nay, we divide with death the very instant that we live. As the last sand in the glass does not measure the hour, but finishes it, so the last moment that we live does not make up death, but concludes. There are some that pray more earnestly for death, than we do for life; but it is better to receive it cheerfully when it comes, than to hasten it before the time.

But what is it that we live any longer for? Not for our pleasures, for those we have tasted over and over, even to satiety so that there is no point of luxury that is new to us; but a man would be loth to leave his country and his friends behind him; that is to say, he would have them go first, for that is the least part of his care. Well! but I would fain live to do more good,

To what end should we covet life?

and discharge myself in the offices of life; were not the duty of every man that lives.

as if to die

We are loth

to leave our possessions, and no man swims well with his luggage. We are all of us equally fearful of death, and ignorant of life, but what can be more shameful, than to be solicitous upon the brink of security? If death be at any time to be feared, it is always to be feared; but the way never to fear it, is to be often thinking of it. To what end is it to put off, for a little while, that which we cannot avoid? He that dies does but follow him that is dead. Why are we then so long afraid of that which is so little à while a doing? How miserable are those people that spend their lives in the dismal apprehensions of death? for they are beset on all hands, and every minute in dread of a surprise. We must, therefore, look about us, as if we were in an enemy's country, and consider our last hour not as a punishment, but as the law of nature; the fear of it is a continual palpitation of the heart, and he that overcomes that terror shall never be troubled with any other. Life is a navigation, we are perpetually wallowing and dashing one against another; sometimes we suffer shipwreck, but we are always in danger and in expectation of it. And what is it when it comes, but either the end of a journey, or a passage? It is as great a folly to fear death as to fear old age, nay, as to fear life itself; for he that would not die, ought not to live, since death is the condition of life. Beside, that it is a madness to fear a thing that is certain; for where there is no doubt there is no place for fear.

We are still chiding of fate, and even those that exact the most rigorous justice betwixt man and man, are yet

.

To die, is to obey nature.

themselves unjust to Providence. Why was such a one taken away in the prime of his years? as if it were the number of years that makes death easy to us, and not the temper of the mind. He that would live a little longer to-day, would be as loth to die a hundred years hence. But, which is more reasonable, for us to obey nature, or for nature to obey us? go we must at last, and no matter how soon. It is the work of fate to make us live long, but it is the business of virtue to make a short life sufficient. Life is to be measured by action, not by time; a man may die old at thirty, and young at fourscore; nay, the one lives after death, and the other perished before he died. I look upon age among the effects of chance. How long I shall live is in the power of others, but it is in my own how well. The largest space of time is to live until a man is wise. He that dies of old age, does no more than go to bed when he is weary. Death is the test of life, and it is that only which discovers what we are, and distinguishes betwixt ostentation and virtue. A man may dispute, cite great authorities, talk learnedly, huff it out, and yet be rotten at heart. But let us soberly attend our business, and since it is uncertain when or where we shall die, let us look for death in all places, and at all times; we can never study that point too much, which we can never come to experiment whether we know it or no. It is a blessed thing to dispatch the business of life before we die, and then to expect death in the possession of a happy life. He is the great man that is willing to die when his life is pleasant to him. An honest life is not a greater good than an honest death. How many brave young men,

It is childish to die lamenting.-Some people wish for death.

by an instinct of nature, are carried on to great actions, and even to the contempt of all hazards?

It is childish to go out of the world groaning and wailing, as we came into it. Our bodies must be thrown away, as the secundine that wraps up the infant, the other being only the covering of the soul. We shall then discover the secrets of nature; the darkness shall be discussed, and our souls irradiated with light and glory a glory without a shadow; a glory that shall surround us, and from whence we shall look down and see day and night beneath us. If we cannot lift up our eyes toward the lamp of heaven without dazzling, what shall we do when we come to behold the divine light in its illustrious original? That death, which we so much dread and decline, is not a determination, but the intermission of a life, which will return again. All those things that are the very cause of life, are the way to death we fear it, as we do fame, but it is a great folly to fear words. Some people are so impatient of life, that they are still wishing for death; but he that wishes to die, does not desire it; let us rather wait God's pleasure, and pray for health and life. If we have a mind to live, why do we wish to die? If we have a mind to die, we may do it without talking of it. Men are a great deal more resolute in the article of death itself, than they are about the circumstances of it. For it gives a man courage to consider that his fate is inevitable: the slow approaches of death are the most troublesome to us; as we see many a gladiator, who, upon his wounds, will direct his adversary's weapon to his very heart, though but timorous perhaps in the combat. There are some

This life is but a prelude to eternity.

that have not the heart either to live or die, that is a sad case. But this we are sure of-the fear of death is a continual slavery, as the contempt of it is certain liberty.

CONSOLATIONS AGAINST DEATH, FROM THE PRO

VIDENCE AND THE NECESSITY OF IT.

THIS life is only a prelude to eternity, where we are to expect another original, and another state of things: we have no prospect of heaven here, but at a distance; let us therefore expect our last and decretory hour with courage. The last, I say, to our bodies, but not to our minds: our luggage we must leave behind us, and return as naked out of the world as we came into it. The day which we fear as our last is but the birthday of our eternity, and it is the only way to it: so that what we fear as a rock, proves to be but a port, in many cases to be desired, never to be refused; and he that dies young has only made a quick voyage of it. Some are becalmed, others cut it away before the wind, and we live just as we sail : first, we run our childhood out of sight, our youth next, and then our middle age, after that follows old age, and brings us to the common end of mankind. It is a great Providence that we have more ways out of the world than we have into it. Our security stands upon a point, the very article of death. It draws a great many blessings into a very narrow compass, and although the fruit of it does not seem to extend to the defunct, yet the difficulty of it is more than balanced by the contemplation of the future. Nay, suppose that all the business of this world should be forgotten, or my memory tra duced, what is all this to me? I have done my duty.