whether he hath it or not: and these desires all proceed from this principle, that we so value unseen things, the things of God, and heaven, and eternity, as not to desire wealth, nor be troubled at the disrespect of men; and to dread that pleasure, which should make us unworthy of pleasure in the favour of God.

"That, therefore, which makes us lowly in heart, is conversing with another world; for that renders us incapable of being proud of any thing that men can do to us. What cares a truly learned man, to be thought learned by peasants? they will think the same of one who has no other learning but hard words; nay, perhaps, will think such a one more learned than he that is truly so. What cares that happy soul, whose conversation is in heaven, for the judgment of the men of this world? they value me, says he, for my outward figure, beauty, riches, wit, accomplishments, that is, for trifles; these things do not make me valuable; it is real goodness does that, in respect of that world which only is of value: and God only is judge of this, because it lies in the heart: men of this world are no more judges of it, than peasants are of learning. If they think well of me, it is but by accident; a mere chance; they guess at it, and may as well guess wrong as right; and shall I think myself more valuable for their guessing? if I am good, I am indeed more valuable for being so, not for their thinking me so. But if thou, my God, dost not think me so, woe be to me; their judgment will do me little

service."

In another place, I find the following prayer:

"Lord, it is not enough that thou givest me leave

to think of thee; give me a heart also, to think humbly of myself: it is not enough that thou openest me a glade to look towards thee; O shut up the world on each side also from my eyes. For the remembrance of having thought on thee will not yield me pleasure, if I cannot think on thee, without being moved to consider what the world will think of me. If thou givest me leave to think on thee, O let me gain this by it, to know myself to be nothing, and the world worse than nothing. And, O Lord! O gracious Goodness, heal my soul, and change the evil affections that are there; and then shall I neither think of the world, nor of myself, but of Thee, who art the only centre and happiness of my soul. Amen."

It is probable that some commendations which he met with for his piety, gave occasion to the following prayer:

"When, O when shall it be, gracious Lord, that I shall be content with thy judgment of me, without looking farther, or considering what others think of me? St. Anthony used 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 solitude, the devil discovered himself more plainly to him than he does to us, whose thoughts are involved 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, 'Get thee behind me, Satan.' O make me watchful and careful of myself, that I be not circumvented by his deceits, and the fraud and treachery of my own sinful heart. Amen."

And how his prayers for humility were answered, 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 little disrespect is no injury to me, who love my own abjection; who can, God be blessed, bear a great many slights and affronts, nay, 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 are sent on purpose by God, for the good of my soul: I take them as tokens of his love, and, therefore, I love them. Should he encrease my estate, or cause great presents and honours to be given me, I should not so heartily delight in them, because I should not so surely know, that they were sent out of love, and for the good of my soul. But all things that cause my abjection, I am sure, are so; having a natural tendency to this end, namely, the bettering my mind. I immediately find that they take my heart off from the world, that they abate my pride, (which is a tickling pain) and introduce a due esteem of myself, and that humility, in which consists the safety of my soul, and by consequence, the joy of my life."

Thus did he conquer pride and vanity in himself; and no man seems to have been better acquainted with the remedies that are most proper for that outrageous 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 you are not known; and shift Churches, that you may not seem constant.

But if you have surmounted this weakness, keep to the same Church where you are known; that your example may edify others, as well as the prayers edify yourself." In another place he prescribes this cure for vanity. "When your fit of passion lies in vanity, converse not with the things that make you think much of yourself; read rather than write, hear rather than speak: talk not of yourself, 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. v. 7. "Be sober, be vigilant," 1 Pet. v. 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 sober reason would dictate to us; which is the true notion of drunkenness. Most sorts 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 ourselves! and yet how sick does it make our souls! if we hear ourselves well spoken of, it may perhaps pass over, 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 employed. But surely I had almost as willingly meet the devil (under God's chain) as these thoughts; that is, the devil in his ugly and frightful dress, as in this (for it is the devil still) tawdry, pleasing disguise. If then there be so much danger from

a few words transiently spoken, what shall we say when we put forth all our strength for hours together in company, to shew our parts, our reason, our learning, or whatever else we please ourselves, or may please others in. What is this but to bathe ourselves in poison, and let it soak into our blood, and fill all our veins! Lord, in the midst of what snares do we walk! on what precipices do we stand ! it is a miracle of thy Almighty goodness, that makes it possible for creatures thus beset, to be ever able to get to heaven. Nothing less than thy mercy and power could save us out of them."

Agreeable to all these meditations, advices and prayers, was Mr. Bonnell's practice. A modest unaffected humility appeared in his words, his actions, and very countenance : "Not" as he himself, in one place, describes this virtue, "an affected humility, such as desires to be taken notice of; but such a true humility, as makes us first look upon ourselves as nothing; and then, not so much as once reflect whether others take notice of us or no; such a true humility, that diffuses itself through the whole body and soul; that influences and impregnates every motion, thought, and word; that shines in every gesture, and look, and all our deportment.

But this spirit of humility did, in a particular manner, direct and govern his devotions. He sometimes found, that using 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 contrived, that he might use his voice without being heard; and in his sickness he never (before his