[WILLIAM GURNALL was born about 1617. He was educated at Emanuel College, Cambridge, of which college he became a Fellow. He was presented to the living of Lavenham, Suffolk; which he retained, although of the Presbyterian persuasion, by conceding to the Act of Uniformity in 1662. He died in 1679. The work from which our extract is given is a folio, entitled 'The Christian in Complete Armour;' and was once amongst the most popular of theological works. It is remarkable for having very little of a polemical nature in an age of controversy.]

First. For earthly things, it is not necessary that thou hast them; that is necessary which cannot be supplied per vicarium, with somewhat besides itself. Now, there is no such earthly enjoyment, but may be supplied as to make its room more desirable than its company. In heaven there shall be light and no sun, a rich feast and yet no meat, glorious robes and yet no clothes, there shall want nothing, and yet none of this worldly glory be found there; yea, even while we are here, they may be recompensed; thou mayest be under infirmities of body, and yet better than if thou hadst health. The inhabitants shall not say, I am sick; the people that dwell therein shall be forgiven their iniquity. Isa. xxxiii. 34. Thou mayest miss of worldly honour, and obtain with those worthies of Christ (Heb. i. 1.) a good report by faith, and that is a name better than of the great ones of the earth; thou mayest be poor in the world, and yet rich in grace; and godliness with content is great gain. In a word, if thou partest with thy temporal life, and findest an eternal, what dost thou lose by thy change? but heaven and heavenly things are such as cannot be recompensed with any other.

Secondly. Earthly things are such, as it is a great uncertainty whether with all our labour we can have them or not. The world, though so many thousand years old, hath not learned the merchant such a method of trading, as that from it he may infallibly conclude he shall at last get an estate by his trade; nor the courtier such rules of comporting himself to the humour of his prince, as to assure him he shall rise. They are but few that carry away the prize in the world's lottery, the greater number have only their labour for their pains, and a sorrowful remembrance left them of their egregious folly, to be led such a wild-goose-chase after that which hath deceived them at last. But now, for heaven and the things of heaven, there *is such a clear and certain rule laid down, that if we will but take the counsel of the Word, we can neither mistake the way, nor in that way miscarry of the end. As many as walk by this rule, peace be upon them, and the whole Israel of God. There are some indeed who run, and yet obtain not this prize, that seck and find not, knock and find the door shut upon them; but it is because they do it either not in the right manner, or in the right season. Some would have heaven, but if God save them he must save their sins also, for they do not mean to part with them; and how heaven can hold God and such together, judge you: As they come in at one door, Christ and all those holy spirits with him would run out at the other. Ungrateful wretches that will not come to this glorious feast, unless they may bring that with them which would disturb the joy of that blissful state, and offend all the guests that sit at the table with them, yea, drive God out of his own mansion-house; a second sort would have heaven, but like him in Ruth, ch. iv., v. 2, 3, 4, who had a mind to his kinsman Elimelech's land, and would have paid for the purchase, but he liked net to have it by marrying Ruth, and so missed of it; some seem very forward to have heaven and salvation, if their own righteousness could procure the same (all the good they do, and duties they perform, they lay up for this purchase), but at last perish because they close not with Christ, and take not heaven in his right. A third sort are content to have it by Christ, but their desires are so impotent and listless, that they put them upon no vigorous use of means to obtain him,

and so (like the sluggard) they starve, because they will not pull their hands out of their bosom of sloth to reach their food that is before them; for the world they have metal enough, and too much; they trudge far and near for that, and when they have run themselves out of breath can stand and pant after the dust of the earth, as the prophet phraseth it, Amos ii. 7. But for Christ, and obtaining interest in him, O how key-cold are they! there is a kind of cramp invades all the powers of their souls when they should pray, hear, examine their hearts, draw out their affections in hungerings and thirstings after his grace and spirit. 'Tis strange to see how they who even now went full swoop to the world, are suddenly becalmed, not a breath of wind stirring to any purpose in their souls after these things; and is it any wonder that Christ and heaven should be denied to them that have no more mind to them? Lastly, some have zeal enough to have Christ and heaven, but it is when the master of the house is risen, and hath shut to the door; and truly then they may stand long enough rapping before any come to let them in. There is no gospel preached in another world; but as for thee, poor soul, who art persuaded to renounce thy lusts, throw away the conceit of thy own righteousness, that thou mayest run with more speed to Christ, and art so possessed with the excellency of Christ, thy own present need of him, and salvation by him, that thou pantest after him more than life itself; in God's name go on and speed, be of good comfort, he calls thee by name to come unto him, that thou mayest have rest for thy scul. There is an office in the Word where thou mayest have thy soul and its eternal happiness ensured to thee. Those that come to him, as he will himself in no wise cast away, so he will not suffer any other to pluck them away. This day (saith Christ to Zaccheus) is salvation come to thy house, Luke xix. 9. Salvation comes to thee (poor soul) that openest thy heart to receive Christ; thou hast eternal life already, as sure as if thou wert a glorified saint now walking in that heavenly city. O, sirs, if there were a free trade proclaimed to the Indies, enough gold for all that went, and a certainty of making a safe voyage, who would stay at home? But, alas! this can never be had all this, and infinitely more, may be said for heaven; and yet how few leave their uncertain hopes of the world to trade for it? What account can be given for this, but the desperate atheism of men's hearts? They are not yet fully persuaded whether the Scripture speaks true or not, whether they may rely upon the discovery that God makes in his Word of this new-found land, and those mines of spirituals there to be had as certain. God opens the eyes of the unbelieving world (as the Prophet's servants), that they may see these things to be realities, not fictions; 'tis faith only that gives a being to these things in our hearts. Moses saw Him that was invisible.

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By faith Thirdly, Earthly things when we have them we are not sure of them; like birds they hop up and down, now on this hedge and anon upon that, none can call them his own: rich to-day and poor to-morrow; in health when we lie down, and arrested with pangs of death before midnight: joyful parents, one while solacing ourselves with the hopes of our budding posterity, and may be, ere long, knocks one of Job's messengers at our door to tell us they are all dead: now in honour, but who knows whether we shall not live to see that buried in scorn and reproach? The Scripture compares the multitude of people to waters; the great ones of the world sit upon these waters; as the ship floats upon the waves, so do their honours upon the breath and favour of the multitude; and how long is he like to sit that is carried upon a wave? One while they are mounted up to heaven (as David speaks of the ship), and then down again they fall into the deep. Unhappy man he that hath no surer portion than what this variable world will offer him! The time of mourning for the departure of all earthly enjoyments is at hand; we shall see them, as Eglon's servants did their Lord, fallen down dead before us, and weep because they

are not. What folly then is it to dandle this vain world in our affections, (whose joy, like the child's laughter on the mother's knee, is sure to end in a cry at last,) and neglect heaven and heavenly things, which endure for ever? I remember Dives stirring up his pillow, and composing himself to rest, how he was called up with the tidings of death before he was warm in his bed of ease, and laid with sorrow on another, which God had made for him in flames, from whence we hear him roaring in the anguish of his conscience. O, soul! couldest thou but get an interest in the heavenly things we are speaking of, these would not thus slip from under thee; heaven is a kingdom that cannot be shaken, Christ an abiding portion, his graces and comforts sure waters that fail not, but spring up into eternal life.

Fourthly. Earthly things are empty and unsatisfying. We may have too much, but never enough of them, they oft breed loathing, but never content; and indeed how should they, being so disproportionate to the vast desires of these immortal spirits that dwell in our bosoms? A spirit hath not flesh and bones, neither can it be fed with such; and what hath the world, but a few bones covered over with some fleshly delights to give it? The less is blessed of the greater, not the greater of the less. These things, therefore, being so far inferior to the nature of man, he must look higher if he will be blessed, even to God himself, who is the Father of Spirits. God intended these things for our use, not enjoyment; and what folly is it to think we can squeeze that from them which God never put in them? They are breasts that, moderately drawn, yield good milk, sweet, refreshing; but wring them too hard, and you will suck nothing but wind or blood from them. We lose what they have, by expecting to find what they have not: none find less sweetness and more dissatisfaction in these things, than those who strive most to please themselves with them. The cream of the creature floats a-top; and he that is not content to fleet it, but thinks by drinking a deeper draught to find yet more, goes further to speed worse, being sure by the disappointment he shall meet to pierce himself through with many sorrows. But all these fears might happily be escaped, if thou wouldst turn thy back on the creature and face about for heaven; labour to get Christ, and through him hopes of heaven, and thou takest the right road to content; thou shalt see it before thee, and enjoy the prospect of it as thou goest, yea, find that every step thou drawest nearer and nearer to it.

Earthly things are like some trash which do not only not nourish, but take away the appetite from that which would: heaven and heavenly things are not relished by a scul vitiated with thesc. Manna, though for deliciousness called angels' food, was yet but light bread to an Egyptian palate. But these spiritual things depend not on thy opinion, O man! whoever thou art, (as earthly things in a great measure do,) that the value of them should rise or fall as the world's exchange doth, and as vain man is pleased to rate them: think gold dirt, and it is so, for all the royal stamp on it; count the swelling titles of worldly honour (that proud dust so brags in) vanity, and they are such; but have base thoughts of Christ, and he is not the worse: slight heaven as much as you will, it will be heaven still; and when thou comest so far to thy wits with the prodigal, as to know which is best fare, husks or bread; where 's best living, among hogs in the field, or in thy father's house; then thou wilt know how to judge of these heavenly things better: till then go and make the best market thou canst of the world, but look not to find this pearl of price, true satisfaction to thy soul, in any of the creature shops; and were it not better to take it when thou mayest have it, than after thou hast wearied thyself in vain in following the creature, to come back with shame, and may be miss of it here also, because thou wouldst not have it when it was offered?

THE ballad of The Heir of Linne' has in its numbers the sound of the "north countree," and is perhaps of Scottish descent, though found in Percy's 'Southern Ballad-Book.' The hero belongs, however, by all theories, to the other side of the Tweed: he is called, too, a lord of Scotland in the rhyme; not as a lord of parliament, but a laird whose title went with his estate. The old thrifty Laird of Linne died, and left his all to an unthrifty son who loved wine and mirth:

To spend the day with merry cheer,
To drink and revel every night;
To card and dice from eve till morn,
It was, I ween, his heart's delight.

To ride, to run, to rant, to roar,

To always spend and never spare; I wot an' it were the king himself, Of gold and fee he mot be bare.

And bare he soon became; when all his gold was spent and gone, he bethought him of his father's steward, John of the Scales, now a wealthy man, and to him he went for help: he was

received with courtesy:

Now welcome, welcome, Lord of Linne,
Let nought disturb thy merry chcer;
If thou wilt sell thy lands so broad,

My gold is gone, my money is spent,

My land now take it unto thee; Give me the gold, good John o' the Scales, Good store of gold I'll give thee here. And thine for aye my land shall be. John o' the Scales drew out the agreement as tight as a glove, gave earnest-money that all might be according to custom as well as law, and then reckoned up the purchasemoney, which would not have bought more than a third of the land in an honest and open market

He told him the gold upon the board,

He was right glad his land to win The gold is thine, the land is mine, And now I'll be the Lord of Linne.

;

Thus hath he sold his land so broad,

Both hill and holt, and moor and fen,
All but a poor and lonesome lodge,
That stood far in a lonely glen.

This lonesome lodge was preserved in obedience to a vow made to his father, who told him on his death-bed that when he had spent all his money and all his land, and all the world frowned on him for a spendthrift, he would find in that lonely dwelling-place a sure and faithful friend. Who this friend in need was, the young Lord of Linne never inquired when he made the reservation; but, taking up the gold of John of the Scales, and calling on his companions, drank, and diced, and spared notThey routed, drank, and merry made,

Till all his gold it waxed thin;
And then his friends they slunk away,
And left the unthrifty Heir of Linne.

He had never a penny left in his purse,
Never a penny left but three;

And one was brass, another was lead,
And the third was of white monie.

"Well," but said the Heir of Linne, "I have many friends, trusty ones who ate of the fat and drank of the strong at my table; so let me go and borrow a little from each, in turns, that my pockets may never be empty:"

But one I wis was not at home,

Another had paid his gold away; Another call'd him a thriftless loon, And sharply bade him wend his way. 3RD QUARTER,

Now well-a-day, said the Heir of Linne,
Now well-a-day, and wo is me;
For when I had my lands so broad,
On me they liv'd right merrilie.

K

The Heir of Linne stood and mused a little now on his ruined fortunes. "It were a burning shame," thought he, "to beg my bread like a common mendicant; to rob or steal would be sinful, and my limbs are unused to work; besides labour is unbecoming in a gentleman; let me go therefore to that little lonesome lodge of which my father spoke, and see what it will do for me, since there is no help elsewhere: "--Away then hied the Heir of Linne,

O'er hill and holt, and moor and fen; Until he came to that lonesome lodge

That stood so low in a lonely glen. He looked up, he looked down,

The little window, dim and dark,

Was hung with ivy, brier, and yew; No shimmering sun here ever shone, No halesome breeze here ever blew. No chair, no table, mot he spy,

No cheerful hearth, no welcome bed; He saw but a rope with a running noose, Which dangling hung above his head.

In hope some comfort for to win; But bare and lothely were the wallsHere's sorry cheer, quo' the Heir of Linne. "Ah! this is the friend my father meant," said he, regarding the vacant noose with an eye which seemed to say welcome; while, as if the hint of the rope was not sufficient for a desperate man, a few plain broad letters told him, since he had brought himself to poverty and ruin, to try the trusty cord, and so end all his sorrows:

Sorely shent with this sharp rebuke,

Sorely shent was the Heir of Linne: His heart, I wis, was nigh to brast,

With guilt and sorrow, shame and sin.

Never a word spake the Heir of Linne,

Never a word he spake but three;

This is a trusty friend indeed,

And is right welcome unto me.

He said no more, but, putting the cord round his neck, gave a spring into the air; but, instead of the death which he expected, the ceiling to which the rope was fixed gave way: he fell to the floor, and on recovering was surprised to see a key attached to the cord, with an inscription which told him where to find two chests full of gold and a chest full of silver, containing a sum more than sufficient to set him free and redeem his lands; with an admonition to amend his life, lest the rope should be his end. "I here vow to God," exclaimed the Heir of Linne, "that my father's words shall be my guide and rule in future, else may the cord finish all!" He secured the money, turned his thoughts on his estates, and hastened to the house of Linne, resolved to be wily as well as prudent, for he knew the character of the new proprietor. With John of the Scales it happened to be a day of feasting and mirth: at one end of a table covered with dainties, amid which the wine was not forgotten, sat John, at the other his wife, swollen with newly acquired importance; while neighbouring lairds all in a row made up the gladsome company:There John himself sat at the board head, Because now Lord of Linne was he;

I pray thee, he said, good John o' the
Scales,

One forty pence for to lend me.

Away, away, thou thriftless loon,

Away, away, this may not be; For Christ's curse on my head, he said,

If ever I trust thee one penny.

This was probably what the Heir of Linne wished, as well as expected. Woman in the hour of need or of misery is said to be merciful and compassionate: so he turned to the new Lady of Linne, saying, "Madam, bestow alms on me for the sake of sweet Saint Charity." "Begone!" exclaimed this imperious madam; "I swear thou shalt have no alms from my hand-were it to hang spendthrifts and fools, we would certainly begin with thee:"— Then up bespoke a good fellow,

Therefore I'll lend thee forty pence,

And other forty if need be.
And ever, I pray thee, John o' the Scales,
To let him sit in thy companie;
For well I wot thou hadst his land,

Who sat at John o' the Scales's board; Said, Turn again, thou Heir of Linne, Some time thou wast a well good lord. Some time a good fellow thou hast been, And sparedst not thy gold and fee; And a good bargain it was to thee. "A good bargain!" exclaimed John of the Scales, in wrath; "you know little about bargains, else you would not talk so: curses on my head, say I, if I was not a loser by the

bargain.”