plain. How ready will he be to help our necessities, that thus provides for our perfection!

God gives the nature to his creatures, man must give the name: that he might see they were made for him, they shall be to him what he will. Instead of their first homage, they are presented to their new lord, and must see of whom they hold. He that was so careful of man's sovereignty, in his innocence, how can he be careless of his safety in his renovation?

If God had given them their names, it had not been so great a praise of Adam's memory to recall them, as it was now of his judgment (at first sight) to impose them; he saw the inside of all the creatures at first (his posterity sees but their skins ever since); and by this knowledge he fitted their names to their dispositions. All that he saw were fit to be his servants, none to be his companions. The same God that finds the want supplies it. Rather than man's innocency shall want an outward comfort, God will begin a new creation: not out of the earth, which was the matter of man; not out of the inferior creatures, which were the servants of man; but out of himself, for dearness, for equality. Doubtless such was man's power of obedience, that if God had bidden him yield up his rib, waking, for his use, he had done it cheerfully: but the bounty of God was so absolute, that he would not so much as consult with man's will to make him happy. As man knew not while he was made, so shall he not know while his other self is made out of him: that the comfort might be greater, which was seen before it was expected.

If the woman should have been made, not without the pain or will of the man, she might have been upbraided with her dependence and obligation. Now she owes nothing but to her Creator: the rib of Adam sleeping can challenge no more of her than the earth can of him. It was a happy change to Adam of a rib for a helper; what help did that bone give to his side? God had not made it, if it had been super

fluous: and yet if man could not have been perfect without it, it had not been taken out.

Many things are useful and convenient, which are not necessary: and if God had seen man might not want it, how easy had it been for him, which made the woman of that bone, to turn the flesh into another bone! but he saw man could not complain of the want of that bone which he had so multiplied, so animated.

O God, we can never be losers by thy changes ; we have nothing but what is thine. Take from us thine own, when thou wilt, we are sure thou canst not but give us better.

CONTEMPLATION III.

OF PARADISE.—Genesis ii. 3.

MAN could no sooner see, than he saw himself happy : his eye-sight and reason were both perfect at once, and the objects of both were able to make him as happy as he would. When he first opened his eyes, he saw heaven above him, earth under him, the creatures about him, God before him; he knew what all these things meant, as if he had been long acquainted with them all. He saw the heavens glorious, but far off; his Maker thought it requisite to fit him with a paradise nearer home. If God had appointed him immediately to heaven, his body had been superfluous; it was fit his body should be answered with an earthen image of that heaven, which was for his soul. Had man been made only for contemplation, it would have served as well to have been placed in some vast desert, on the top of some barren mountain; but the same power which gave him a heart to meditate, gave him hands to work, and work fit for his hands. Neither was it the purpose of the Creator, that man should but live. Pleasure may stand with inno.

cence. He that rejoiced to see all he had made to be good, rejoiceth to see all that he hath made to be well. God loves to see his creatures happy; our lawful delight is his: they know not God, that think to please him with making themselves miserable.

The idolaters thought it fit service for Baal, to cut and lance themselves: never any holy man looked for thanks from the true God, by wronging himself. Every earth was not fit for Adam, but a garden, a paradise. What excellent pleasures, and rare varieties, have men found in gardens, planted by the hands of men! and yet all the world of men cannot make one twig, or leaf, or spire of grass. When he that made the matter undertakes the fashion, how must it needs be, beyond our capacity, excellent! No herb, no flower, no tree was wanting there, that might be for ornament or use; whether for sight, or for scent, or for taste. The bounty of God taught further than to necessity, even to comfort and recreation: why are we niggardly to ourselves, when God is liberal? but for all this, if God had not there conversed with man, no abundance could have made him blessed.

Yet, behold! that which was man's storehouse, was also his workhouse; his pleasure was his task: paradise served not only to feed his senses, but to exercise his hands. If happiness had consisted in doing nothing, man had not been employed; all his delights could not have made him happy in an idle life. Man, therefore, is no sooner made than he is set to work: neither greatness, nor perfection, can privilege a folded hand; he must labour, because he was happy; how much more we, that we may be! This first labour of his was, as without necessity, so without pains, without weariness: How much more cheerfully we go about our businesses, so much nearer we come to our paradise.

Neither did these trees afford him only action for his hands, but instruction to his heart: for here he saw God's sacraments grow before him; all other

trees had a natural use, these two, in the midst of the garden, a spiritual. Life is the act of the soul, knowledge the life of the soul; the tree of knowledge and the tree of life, then were ordained as earthly helps of the spiritual part. Perhaps he which ordained the end, immortality of life, did appoint this fruit as a means of that life. It is not for us to inquire after the life we had, and the means we should have had. I am sure it served to nourish the soul by a lively representation of that living tree, whose fruit is eternal life, and whose leaves serve to heal the nations.

O infinite mercy ! man saw his Saviour before him, ere he had need of a Saviour; he saw in whom he should recover a heavenly life, ere he lost the earthly. But after he had tasted of the tree of knowledge, he might not taste of the tree of life; that immortal food was not for a mortal stomach: yet then did he most savour that invisible tree of life, when he was most restrained from the other.

O Saviour! none but a sinner can relish thee: my taste hath been enough seasoned with the forbidden fruit, to make it capable of thy sweetness: sharpen thou as well the stomach of my soul by repenting, by believing; so shall I eat, and in despite of Adam, live for ever. The one tree was for confirmation, the other for trial: one showed him what life he should have, the other what knowledge he should not desire to have: alas, he, that knew all other things, knew not this one thing, that he knew enough: how divine a thing is knowledge, whereof even innocency itself is ambitious! Satan knew what he did: if this bait had been gold, or honour, or pleasure, man had contemned it: who can hope to avoid error, when even man's perfection is mistaken? He looked for speculative knowledge, he should have looked for experimental: he thought it had been good to know evil: good was large enough to have perfected his knowledge, and therein his blessedness.

All that God made was good, and the Maker of them much more good; they good in their kinds, he good in himself. It would not content him to know God and his creatures; his curiosity affected to know that which God never made, evil of sin, and evil of death, which indeed himself made, by desiring to know them; now we know well evil enough, and smart with knowing it. How dear hath this lesson cost us, that in some cases it is better to be ignorant; and yet do the sons of Eve inherit this saucy appetite of their grandmother; how many thousand souls miscarry with the presumptuous affectation of forbidden knowledge!

O God, thou hast revealed more than we can know, enough to make us happy; teach me a sober knowledge, and a contented ignorance.

Paradise was made for man, yet there I see the serpent; what marvel is it, if my corruption find the serpent in my closet, in my table, in my bed, when our holy parents found him in the midst of Paradise! No sooner he is entered, but he tempteth: he can no more be idle than harmless. I do not see him at any other tree; he knew there was no danger in the rest; I see him at the tree forbidden. How true a serpent is he in every point; in his insinuation to the place, in his choice of the tree, in his assault of the woman, in his plausibleness of speech to avoid terror, in his question to move doubt, in his reply to work distrust, in his protestation of safety, in his suggestion to envy and discontent, in his promise of gain!

And if he were so cunning at the first, what shall we think of him now, after so many thousand years' experience? Only thou, O God! and those angels that see thy face, are wiser than he; I do not ask why, when he left his goodness, thou didst not bereave him of his skill. Still thou wouldst have him an angel, though an evil one: and thou knowest how to ordain his craft to thine own glory. I do not desire thee to abate his subtilty, but to make me wise: let me beg it without presumption, make me wiser than