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? When, O when Mall it be, Gracious Lord, that I shall be content with thy Judg.

ment of me, without looking further, or 6 considering what others think of me?

. Anthony usd to hear the Devil often crying out make way for the Servant of the Lord, behold the beloved of God: Or such like. In his folitude the Devil discovered himself more plainly to him than he does to us whose thoughts are involv'd in the multiplicity of worldly matters: Yet we 'may be sure the Devil is in all such sounds

come they from the Mouths of never so good < Persons, we may well have leave to say gec ihee behind me Satan.O make me watchful and

careful of my self that I be not circum< vented by his Deceits and the fraud and + treachery of my own linful Heart. Amen.

And how his Prayers for Humility, were anfwer'd ; and what a happy progress he made in that heavenly Virtue, the following Meditation will shew.

"To administer Arsenic, is no injury to a Man, that has made Poison his Diet. A fitelé Disrespect is no injury to me, who

love my own Abjection; who can, God be • blessed, bear a great many Slights and Af

fronts, pay, and delight in them too, But ( how or on what Ground is it that a Man

can love his own Abjection? It is because (I believe these Slights and Affronts

fent on purpose by God, for the

good of my Soul: I take them as tokens of • his Love, and therefore I love them. Shou'd he encrease my Estate, or cause great pre


fent of my soul:refore I love the great people

6 sents and Honours to be given me, I fou'd < not so heartily delight in them, because I • Tou'd not so surely know, that they were < sent out of love, and for the good of my « Soul. But all things that cause my Abjectiu con, I am sure, are fo; having a natural ten(dency to this end, namely the bettering my ċ Mind. I immediately find, that they take • my Heart off from the World, that they a(bate my Pride (which is a tickling Pain) and < introduce a due esteem of my self, and that • Humility, in which consists the fafety of my < Soul, and by consequence the joy of my o Life.

Thus did he conquer Pride and Vanity in himself; and no Man feems to have been better acquainted with the Remedies that are most proper for that outragious Distemper: which, some of his Advices, will sufficiently make appear.

If you are subject (says he,) to Spiritual Pride, go to Prayers, to Churches, where 6 you are not known; and shift Churches,

that you may not seem constant. But if c you have surmounted this weakness, keep o to the same Church where you are knowó;

that your Example may edifie Others, as well. ' as the Prayers edifie your self.

In another place, he prescribes this Cure for Vanity.

"When your fit of Pallion lies in Vanity, • converse not with the things that make you

think much of your self; Read rather than 8 Write, Hear rather than Speak: Talk


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s not of your Self, of your Sickness, or your • Health, of your Love or Dislike, of your ' way of Living or Humour, or any thing ' that belongs to you.

To the same purpose is the following Meditation

Watch and be Sober. 1 Thess. 5. 7. Be Sober be Vigilant. Pet. 5. 8. Whatever makes our Minds drunk, is opposite to this

Sobriety; and every thing that makes us 'think unreasonably, does thus Intoxicate

us, that is, makes us think otherwise, than 'fober Reason wou'd dictate to us; which

is the true Notion of Drunkenness. Most ! forts of Pleasures do this, but particularly,

that which we take in the Esteem of Men. 'These unhappy words, I and Me, what a Ferment do they raise in our Blood ! How troublesome yet pleasing! How unquietly importunate, how fond are we, to talk and 'tell Stories of our selves! And yet how ' fick does it make our Souls! If we hear our

selves well spoken of, it may perhaps pass sover, and we may recover our Minds. Yet

there is danger, that even this will return {again to our Thoughts, and perhaps when

we are better employ'd. But surely I had ' almost as willingly meet the Devil (under Gods Chain) as these Thoughts ; that is.

the Devil in his ugly and frightful Dress, as s in this (for it is the Devil ftill) Tawdry, • pleasing Disguise. If then there be so much

danger, from a few words transiently spoken; What inall we say, when we put forth

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call our fresgh for hours together, in coms rary; to few our Parts, cur Reason, our • Leataics, or hatezer eje me please our

's, or may rie: cibers in. What is this but to bach cor feiresia Poifon, and let

is soak into our Biood, acd fill all our • Feios! Lord in the midt of what soares

Co we wak; on what Precipices do we

faal! It is a Miracle of thy Alnighty • Goodseis, that makes it posible for Creastores thus beret, to be ever able to get to < Hearen. Norbiag kls than thy Mercy and < Porer, cou'd save us out of them.

Agreeable to all there Meditations, Advices, Prayers, was Mr. Bonnell's Practice. A modest vsaffected Homility appear'd in his Words, his Actions and very Countenance : Notas be himself, in one piace, describes this Vir1::e; an atted Humility, fuchas de fires to be ta. ken notice of ; but such a true Humility, es makes us forft losk upon our selves as No:bing; and then, 1208 muc's as once reflect, ihether others take notice of 15, or no: . Such a true Humility, that diffes it self through the whole Body and Soul; That influences and impregnates every Motion, Thought, and Word ; that shines in every gesture, and looks and all our Deportment..

Put this Spirit of Humility, did in a particular manner, direct ard govern his Devoti: ons. He sometimes found that wling his Voice in Private Prayer, was of great use to him, to quicken his Zeal, and keep his Thoughts attentive ; and he always had his Lodging so contriv’d, that he might use his Voice without being heard; and in his Sickness, he never (be

fore fore his Marriage) allow'd any one to be constantly in the Room with him ; because the presence, even of a Servant, restrain'd him from Praying with his Voice. And after Marriage, he was not pleas'd when any were present upon those occasions, but she alone, with whom he was free from these Reserves. Such deep impressions had Humility inade in his Soul, that no Sickness, no Pain, cou'd in the least get the better of it.

His Charity to the Poor, tho' very great and extensive for his Fortune, (as will be afterwards shewn) yet was always manag'd with the greatest Secrecy and Modesty imaginable; it being his great endeavour to conceal it as much as possible, of which we may be convinc'd by the following Meditation, wherein he enquires, why, by doing our Alms openly, we have no Reward.

The end of Alms is not folely to relieve $ the Poor; for what was the Widows Mite (which yet was a great Charity) to this pur?pose ? God needs not our Alms for this

end, no more than he did the Sacrifices ? of old, to enrich himself. All the Beasts of ' the Forest are mine, faith God. In like mane manner with one act of His Will, He cou'd

enrich (if he thought sic) all the Poor in ' the World. But he requires our Alms, as

he did the Sacrifices of old, only as Testimo

nies, or Fruits of the inward Grąces of our 'Minds. A Sacrifice, without Contrition ' was a vain Oblation, but the Sacrifices of Ş God are a broken Heart. Again, the Poor are as truly reliev'd by Alms without Cha. H 4


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