whom thou wert one, wouldst yet so much act man, as to retire for the opportunity of prayer; to teach us, who are nothing but wild thoughts and giddy distractedness, to go aside, when we would speak with God. How happy is it for us, that thou prayedst? O Saviour, thou prayedst for us, who have not grace enough to pray for ourselves; not worth enough to be accepted, when we do pray. Thy prayers, which were most perfect and impetrative, are they, by which our weak and unworthy prayers receive both life and favour. And now, how assiduous should we be in our supplications, who are empty of grace, full of wants; when thou, who wert a God of all power, prayedst for that, which thou couldst command! Therefore do we pray, because thou prayedst; therefore do we expect to be graciously answered in our prayers, because thou didst pray for us here on earth, and now intercedest for us in Heaven.

The evening was come. The disciples looked long for their Master, and loth they were to have stirred without him; but his command is more, than the strongest wind to fill their sails, and they are now gone.

Their expectation made not the evening seem so long, as our Saviour's devotion made it seem short to him.

He is on the mount; they, on the sea: yet, while he was in the mount praying and lifting up his eyes to his Father, he fails not to cast them about upon his disciples tossed on the waves. Those all seeing eyes admit of no limits. At once, he sees the highest heavens, and the midst of the sea; the glory of his Father, and the misery of his disciples. Whatever prospects present themselves to his view, the distress of his followers is ever most noted. How much more dost thou now, O Saviour, from the height of thy glorious advancement, behold us, thy wretched servants, tossed on the unquiet sea of this world, and beaten with the troublesome and threatening billows of affliction!

Thou foresawest their toil and danger, ere thou dismissedst them; and purposely sendedst them away, that they might be tossed. Thou, that couldest prevent our sufferings by thy power, wilt permit them in thy wisdom; that thou mayest glorify thy mercy in our deliverance, and confirm our faith by the issue of our dis

tresses.

How do all things now seem to conspire, to the vexing of thy poor disciples! The night was sullen and dark; their Master was absent; the sea was boisterous; the winds were high and contrary. Had their Master been with them, howsoever the elements had raged, they had been secure : had their Master been away, yet if the sea had been quiet or the winds fair, the passage might have been endured: now both season, and sea, and wind, and their Master's desertion, had agreed to render them perfectly miserable. Sometimes the Providence of God hath thought good so to order it, that to his best servants there appeareth no glimpse of comfort; but so absolute vexation, as if heaven and earth had plotted their full affliction. Yea, O Saviour, what a dead night, what a fearful

tempest, what an astonishing dereliction was that, wherein thou thyself criedst out in the bitterness of thine anguished soul, 3y God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? Yet in all these extremities of misery, our gracious God intends nothing but his greater glory and ours; the triumph of our faith, the crown of our victory.

All that longsome and tempestuous night must the disciples wear out in danger and horror, as given over to the winds and waves; but in the fourth watch of the night, when they were wearied out with toils and fears, comes deliverance. At their entrance into the ship, at the arising of the tempest, at the shutting in of the evening, there was no news of Christ; but when they have been all the night long beaten, not so much with storms and waves as with their own thoughts, now in the fourth watch, (which was near to the morning,) Jesus came unto them, and purposely not till then; that he might exercise their patience; that he might inure them to wait upon Divine Providence, in cases of extremity; that their devotions might be more whetted by delay; that they might give gladder welcome to their deliverance. O God, thus thou thinkest fit to do still. We are by turns in our sea, the winds bluster, the billows swell, the night and thy absence heighten our discomfort, thy time and ours is set; as yet it is but midnight with us; can we but hold out patiently till the fourth watch, thou wilt surely come and rescue us. Oh let us not faint under our sorrows; but wear out our three watches of tribulation, with undaunted patience and holy resolution.

O Saviour, our extremities are the seasons of thine aid. Thou camest at last; but yet so, as that there was more dread than joy in thy presence. Thy coming was both miraculous and frightful.

Thou, God of Elements, passedst through the air, walkedst upon the waters. Whether thou meantest to terminate this miracle in thy body, or in the waves which thou troddest upon; whether so lightening the one, that it should make no impression in the liquid waters, or whether so consolidating the other, that the pavemented waves yielded a firm causeway to thy sacred feet to walk on, I neither determine nor inquire: thy silence ruleth mine; thy power was in either miraculous; neither know I in whether to adore it more.

But withal, give me leave to wonder more at thy passage, than at thy coming. Wherefore camest thou, but to comfort them? and wherefore then wouldest thou pass by them, as if thou hadst intended nothing but their dismay? Thine absence could not be so grievous, as thy preterition: that might seem justly occasioned; this could not but seem willingly neglective. Our last conflicts have wont ever to be the sorest: as when, after some dripping rain, it pours down most vehemently, we think the weather is changing to serenity.

O Saviour, we may not always measure thy meaning by thy semblance: sometimes, what thou most intendest, thou shewest least. In our afflictions thou turnest thy back upon us; and hidest

thy face from us, when thou most mindest our distresses. So Jonathan shot the arrows beyond David, when he meant them to him. So Joseph calls for Benjamin into bonds, when his heart was bound to him in the strongest affection. So the tender mother makes as if she would give away her crying child, whom she hugs so much closer in her bosom. If thou pass by us while we are struggling with the tempest, we know it is not for want of mercy. Thou canst not neglect us; Oh let not us distrust thee.

What object should have been so pleasing to the eyes of the disciples, as their Master; and so much the more, as he shewed his Divine power in this miraculous walk? But lo, contrarily, they are troubled; not with his presence, but with this form of presence. The supernatural works of God, when we look upon them with our own eyes, are subject to a dangerous misprision. The very sun beams, to which we are beholden for our sight, if we eye them directly, blind us. Miserable men! we are ready to suspect truths; to run away from our safety; to be afraid of our comforts; to misknow our best friends.

And why are they thus troubled? They had thought they had seen a spirit. That there have been such apparitions of spirits, both good and evil, hath ever been a truth undoubtedly received of Pagans, Jews, Christians; although, in the blind times of superstition, there was much collusion mixed with some verities: crafty men and lying spirits agreed to abuse the credulous world. But even where there was not truth, yet there was horror. The very good angels were not seen without much fear; their sight was construed to bode death: how much more the evil, which in their very nature are harmful and pernicious! We see not a snake or a toad, without some recoiling of blood and sensible reluctation, although those creatures run away from us; how much more must our hairs stand upright and our senses boggle at the sight of a spirit, whose both nature and will is contrary to ours, and professedly bent to our hurt!

But say it had been what they mistook it for, a spirit; why should they fear? Had they well considered, they had soon found that evil spirits are nevertheless present, when they are not seen; and nevertheless harmful or malicious, when they are present unseen. Visibility adds nothing to their spite or mischief. And could their eyes have been opened, they had, with Elisha's servant, seen more with them than against them; a sure, though invisible guard of more powerful spirits, and themselves under the protection of the God of Spirits so as they might have bidden a bold defiance to all the powers of darkness. But partly, their faith was yet but in the bud; and partly, the presentation of this dreadful object was sudden, and without the respite of a recollection and settlement of their thoughts.

Oh the weakness of our frail nature, who, in the want of faith, are affrighted with the visible appearance of those adversaries, whom we profess daily to resist and vanquish, and with whom we

know the decree of God hath matched us in an everlasting conflict! Are not these they, that ejected devils by their command ? Are not these of them, that could say, Master, the evil spirits are subdued to us? Yet now, when they see but an imagined spirit, they fear. What power there is in the eye to betray the heart! While Goliath was mingled with the rest of the Philistine host, Israel camped boldly against them; but when that giant stalks out single between the two armies, and fills and amazes their eyes with his hideous stature, now they run away for fear. Behold, we are committed with legions of evil spirits, and complain not: let but one of them give us some visible token of his presence, we shriek and tremble, and are not ourselves.

Neither is our weakness more conspicuous, than thy mercy, O God, in restraining these spiritual enemies from these dreadful and ghastly representations of themselves to our eyes. Might those infernal spirits have liberty to appear how and when and to whom they would, certainly not many would be left in their wits, or in their lives. It is thy power and goodness to frail mankind, that they are kept in their chains, and reserved in the darkness of their own spiritual being, that we may both oppugn and subdue them

unseen.

But oh the deplorable condition of reprobate souls! If but the imagined sight of one of these spirits of darkness can so daunt the heart of those, which are free from their power, what a terror shall it be to live perpetually in the sight, yea under the torture, of thousands, of legions, of millions of devils! Oh the madness of wilful sinners, that will needs run themselves headily into so dreadful a damnation !

It was high time for our Saviour to speak. What with the tempest, what with the apparition, the disciples were almost lost with fear. How seasonable are his gracious redresses! Till they were thus affrighted, he would not speak; when they were thus affrighted, he would not hold his peace.

If his presence were fearful, yet his word was comfortable; Be of good cheer, it is I : yea, it is his word only, which must make his presence both known and comfortable. He was present before; they mistook him, and feared: there needs no other erection of their drooping hearts but, It is I. It is cordial enough to us, in the worst of our afflictions, to be assured of Christ's presence with us. Say but, It is I, O Saviour, and let evils do their worst; thou needest not say any more. Thy voice was evidence enough; so well were thy disciples acquainted with the tongue of thee their Master, that, It is I, was as much as a hundred names. Thou art the Good Shepherd: we are not of thy flock, if we know thee not by thy voice from a thousand. Even this one is a great word, yea an ample style, It is I. The same tongue, that said to Moses, I AM hath sent thee, saith now to the disciples, "It is I; I, your Lord and Master; I, the commander of winds and waters; I, the sovereign Lord of Heaven and earth; I, the God of Spirits." Let heaven be but as one scroll, and let it be written all over with

titles, they cannot express more than, It is I. O sweet and seasonable word of a gracious Saviour, able to calm all tempests, able to revive all hearts! Say but so to my soul, and, in spite of hell, I am safe.

No sooner hath Jesus said, I; than Peter answers, Master. He can instantly name him, that did not name himself. Every little hint is enough to faith. The Church sees her Beloved, as well through the lattice, as through the open window.

Which of all the followers of Christ gave so pregnant testimonies, upon all occasions, of his faith, of his love to his Master, as Peter? The rest were silent, while he both owned his Master, and craved access to him in that liquid way.

Yet what a sensible mixture is here of faith and distrust! It was faith, that said, Master : it was distrust, as some have construed it, that said, If it be thou. It was faith, that said, Bid me come to thee, implying that his word could as well enable as command; it was faith, that durst step down upon that watery pavement: it was distrust, that, upon the sight of a mighty wind, feared. It was faith, that he walked : it was distrust, that he sunk : it was faith, that said, Lord, save me.

Oh the imperfect composition of the best saint upon earth; as far from pure faith, as from mere infidelity! If there be pure earth in the centre, all upward is mixed with the other elements: contrarily, pure grace is above, in the glorified spirits; all below is mixed with infirmity, with corruption. Our best is but as the air; which never was, never can be, at once, fully enlightened: neither is there in the same region one constant state of light. It shall once be noon with us, when we shall have nothing but bright beams of glory; now, it is but the dawning, wherein it is hard to say, whether there be more light than darkness. We are now fair as the moon, which hath some spots in her greatest beauty; we shall be pure as the sun, whose face is all bright and glorious. Ever since the time, that Adam set his tooth in the apple, till our mouth be full of mould, it never was, it never can be, other withr us. Far be it from us, to settle willingly upon the dregs of our infidelity; far be it from us, to be disheartened with the sense of our defects and imperfections: We believe; Lord, help our unbelief.

While I find some disputing the lawfulness of Peter's suit; others quarrelling his, If it be thou: let me be taken up with the wonder at the faith, the fervour, the heroical valour, of this prime apostle, that durst say, Bid me come to thee upon the waters. He might have suspected, that the voice of his Master might have been as easily imitated by that imagined spirit, as his person; he might have feared the blustering tempest, the threatening billows, the yielding nature of that devouring element: but, as despising all these thoughts of misdoubt, such is his desire to be near his Master, that he says, Bid me come to thee upon the waters. He says not, "Come thou to me;" this had been Christ's act, and not his neither doth he say, "Let me come to thee;" this had