0A.30. Chapter 13.

Chapter 13. The End for Which Man was Designed in His Creation. The objects from whence consideration derives its power to direct our choice.Q20 The end for which man was designed in his creation.

We must make a judicious comparison between the objects that stand in competition for our choice—the present world, and Heaven. The vast difference between them in their quality and duration.

I shall now take a particular view of those objects, from whence consideration derives vigor, for the inclining of the will to a right choice, and for regulating the life.

1. Consider the end for which man was designed in his creation—why he is endued with rational and noble powers of soul, and placed by the Sovereign Maker in the highest rank of so numerous and various natures that fill the universe. Is it to raise an estate, to shine in pomp, to enjoy sensual pleasures for a little while—and after the fatal term to be cast into Hell? Was he sent into the world upon as base a business as that of the foolish emperor, who employed an army furnished with all military preparations, to gather shells upon the sea shore? This were, according to the passionate expostulation of the psalmist, to charge God "that he had made all men in vain."

Reason and Scripture tell us the end of man is to glorify and enjoy God, the obtaining whereof makes him perfectly happy, and the missing of it perfectly miserable. This is a fundamental truth upon which the whole fabric of man’s duty and felicity is built. Without this foundation, our faith immediately sinks. If the clearness of this principle be obscured, we shall wander from the way of eternal life, and not only lose the way, but the remembrance and desire of it.

Thinking is the property of the reasonable soul, and the just order of consideration is that the mind primarily regards the supreme truth that is to govern all our actions. It was prudent counsel that one of the ancients gave for composing a book, that the author frequently reflect upon the title, that it may correspond in all the parts with his original design. Thus it befits a man often to consider the end of his being, that the course of his life may have a direct tendency to it; and the more excellent our end is, the more constraining is the necessity to prosecute it.

It is of great efficacy to reflect upon ourselves—where do my thoughts and desires tend? For what do I spend my strength, and consume my days? Will it be my last account, how much by my prudence and diligence I have exceeded others in temporal acquisitions? If a general were at play marbles, while the armies are fighting, would it be a noble exploit for him to win the game, while his army for lack of leadership loses the victory? Will it be profitable for a man to gain the world, and lose his soul? Let conscience answer in truth.

It is observable what is reported of a noble foreigner, that on his birthday reflecting upon the age of his life, he was surprised with grief, and struck with astonishment, that without a due sense of the proper business and end of life, he was arrived to that age, when our days begin to decline. In an instant all things seemed to change appearance in his view. Then first (says he) I perceived I was a man, for before I had not resolved for what I should employ my life. The issue was, his serious resolution sincerely to honor God, sincerely to confess Christ, to place his felicity in holiness of life, and most zealously to follow it.

Let anyone that is not of a reprobate mind, and an incorrigibly depraved heart, duly consider the sublime and eternal end of man. O what a marvelous change will it make in him, of carnal into spiritual? Nay, it would be a kind of miracle if he continued in his sinful state. How will it transform him into another man, with new valuations, new affections and resolutions, as if he were "born again" with a new soul? How will it amaze him that his whole course of life has been a contradiction to the wise and gracious design of God, that all his industry has been a race out of the way, a perpetual diversion from his main business, that his life has been fruitless and dead to the true end of it? How will he be confounded at his former folly? Then alone we act with understanding, when moved by our blessed end, and our actions by a strict tendency without variation issue into it.

2. Consider attentively the objects that stand in competition for our choice—the present world and Heaven—to make a judicious comparison between them in their quality and duration.

(1.) In their QUALITY. The things of the world, according to the judgment of God himself, who is only wise and good, and has the highest authority to decide in the case, are but fallacious appearances of happiness—mere vanity. And certainly the Creator knows the true worth of all things, and would not disparage his own works, but would undeceive men who are apt to judge and choose by the eye of sense. The apostle tells us, "that an idol is nothing in the world," although it is made of gold, or marble, or wood—yet it has not the divine perfection which the idolater attributes to it.

Just so, all worldly things, in which men place their chief care, and confidence, and joy, though they have some degrees of goodness, and are a transient relief to us in our passage to eternity—yet they are nothing as to perfect felicity. It is merely opinion and conceit that makes them so valued and pleasing, like a rich dye to a slight stuff from whence its price arises. Reason is either obscured or not obeyed, when the world is the object of our choice. Now what are these appearances of beauty and pleasure, compared with a blessedness that is truly infinite? Carnal joy smiles in the countenance, flatters the imagination, touches the sense—but it cannot fill the heart; but the favor of God satisfies the soul. "You have put gladness into my heart, more than when their corn and wine increased." Carnal joy in its highest elevation, in the time of the harvest and vintage, is incomparably less than spiritual joy that springs from the light of God’s countenance. The world cannot fill the narrow capacity of our senses, but divine joys exceed our most enlarged comprehensive faculties. "The eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear with hearing; but the peace of God passes all understanding." The things of the world are of a limited goodness; wisdom is not strength, nor learning riches, nor beauty fruitfulness; but God is a "universal good," in whom are all attractives ro raise and satisfy our desires. If men did consider, they would distinguish and despise in comparison all that is named felicity here, with the favor of God. To seek for satisfaction in the creature and forsake God, is as it one desirous to see the light should withdraw from the presence of the sun, to borrow it from a weak ray reflected by some obscure matter. Now if there be so vast a difference in their nature, as between a painted vapor, and the solid glorious good, between finite and infinite, why is there not a difference accordingly in our esteem, affections and respects to them? How unreasonable is it that a soul capable of God, should cleave to the dust? It would be most egregious folly to hang a weight that is able to turn a great engine, upon a small clock; it is incomparably more foolish, when the love of happiness, the weight of human nature, which applied aright, will turn our desires to Heaven, is only used to give vigorous motion to our endeavors about poor earthly things.

(2.) Consider their DURATION. The apostle tells us, that the main "scope of his actions was things invisible;" and gives the reason of it, "for the things that are seen are temporal; but the things that are not seen are eternal." 2Co 4:18. To insist upon the vast difference between temporal and eternal, may seem needless; for the first notions of things are of such uncontrollable clearness, that an attempt to prove them, is to light a candle to discover the sun. Yet this principle drawing after it such powerful consequences for the government of our hearts and lives, and conscience being so remiss, and the sensual affections so rebellious, it is needful to consider this seriously, that what is really assented to in speculation, may not be contradicted in practice.

Now who can unfold the infinite volume of ages in eternity? The understanding of an angel can no more comprehend what is incomprehensible, than the mind of a man. A snail will pass over an immense space as soon as an eagle; for though one dispatches more way than the other—yet both are equally distant from arriving to the end of what is endless. But that the conception of eternity may be more distinct, and affecting, it is useful to represent it under some temporal resemblances, that sensibly, though not fully, express it. Suppose that the vast ocean was removed drop by drop, but so slowly, that a thousand years should pass between every drop; how many millions of years were required to empty it? Suppose this great world in its full compass, from one pole to another, and from the top of the firmament to the bottom, were to be filled with the smallest sand, but so slowly, that every thousand years only a single grain should be added; how many millions would pass away before it were filled? If the immense expanse of the heavens, wherein are innumerable stars, the least of which equals the magnitude of the earth, were filled with figures of numbers without the least vacant space, and every figure signified a million, what created mind could tell their number, much less their value?

Having these thoughts, I reply; the sea will be emptied drop by drop, the universe filled grain by grain, the numbers written in the heavens will come to an end; and how much of eternity is then spent? Nothing! for still infinitely more remains. In short, whatever is temporal, extends the continuance of it to the utmost possibility of conception, is infinitely short of eternity. A day, a hour, a minute, has some proportion with a thousand years; for that duration is determined by a certain number of days, and hours, and minutes; but millions of ages have no proportion to eternity, because it is an indeterminable duration. The mind is soon tired and lost in searching after numbers to represent it; it is confounded and struck with amazing horror, and can only direct the eye upward or downward to the two habitations of eternity—the glorious and the miserable, Heaven and Hell.

Now let us compare the things of the present world with those of the future state. The first are measured by flying time, the other remain in an unmoveable eternity. The comforts that spring from the earth, suddenly wither and fall to it; the tree of life flourishes only above. Frequent changes from prosperity to adversity, are the properties of this mortal state. As those who are in voyages at sea, sometimes are in a calm, and presently suffer a storm, and are forced to alter their course by the changing of the winds; so it is with us in our passage here. But upon the first entrance into the eternal world, all the variations of this are at an end. "Truly every man at his best estate is altogether vanity. Surely every man walks in a vain show, surely they are disquieted in vain." The visible felicity of man is of no continuance.

We may frequently observe in the evening, a cloud by the reflection of the sun invested with so bright a luster, and adorned with such a pleasant variety of colors, that in the judgment of our eyes, if an angel were to assume a body correspondent to his glory, it were a fit matter for it. But in walking a few steps, the sun is descended beneath the horizon, and the light withdrawn, and of all that splendid flaming appearance, nothing remains but a dark vapor, that falls down in a shower. Thus vanishing is the show of felicity here. In this, sense assists faith; for the experience of every day verifies what the Scripture declares, "that the fashion of this world passes away." And therefore the guilty folly of men is aggravated, "who set their eyes and hearts upon that which is not." To see one passionately doat on a face ruined and deformed with old age, to be enchanted without a charm, raises wonder, and exposes to contempt. Yet such is the stupidity of men to embrace with their most entire affections the withered vanities of the world, that are hastening to their end. It was a stinging reproach to idolaters from God, "None considers in his heart, neither is there knowledge nor understanding," to say, "I have burnt part of it in the fire; yes, I have also baked bread upon the coals thereof; I have roasted flesh and eaten it; and shall I make the residue an abomination? shall I fall down to the stock of a tree?" And are not sensual men equally guilty of such monstrous folly? for though universal experience convinces them, that all things under the sun are fading, and that many times their dearest comforts are snatched away from their embraces; yet who considers and says to himself, Shall I give my heart to transient shadows? Shall I cherish vain hopes, vain aims and desires of obtaining happiness in a perishing world?

Although the worshiping a stock is idolatry of grosser infamy—yet it is as foolish and as destructive to set our chief love and joy, that is only due to God, upon the creature. And what follows in the prophet, is justly applicable to such people, "he feeds on ashes," (that not only afford no nourishment, but are very hurtful to the body) "a deceived heart has turned him aside, that he cannot deliver his soul, nor say, Is there not a lie in my right hand?"

Thus carnal men are so blinded in their affections to these short-lived pleasures, that they cannot take the true liberty of judging and reflecting, that they are deceived and delighted with empty shadows that will suddenly end in disappointment and sorrow! Briefly, these glittering fictions and false joys cannot please without an error in the mind, that shall last but a little while.

If you saw a crazy person sing and dance, with a conceit that he is a prince, would you be willing to lose sober reason for his fantastic pleasure, especially if you knew that his cheerful fit should suddenly change into a mournful or raging madness forever? But the blessedness above is unchangeable as God the author and object of it—as eternal as the soul that enjoys it. And shall the "world that passes away with the lusts thereof"—turn our affections from the undefiled immortal inheritance? Shall the vanishing appearance, the fleeting figure of happiness, be preferred before what is substantial and durable?

If a spark of true reason, of sincere love to our souls is left, "we shall count all things but dross and dung, that we may gain the kingdom of glory!" Thus eternity enlightens, thus it counsels us.