solid, hard, pure, clear marble, fit for the receipt of so precious an ointment: the ointment pleasant and costly; a composition of many fragrant odours, not for medicine but delight.

The soul, that is truly touched with the sense of its own sin, can think nothing too good, too dear, for Christ. The remorsed sinner begins first, with the tender of burnt-offerings, and calves of a year old; thence, he ascends to hecatombs, thousands of rams; and above that yet, to ten thousand rivers of oil; and, yet higher, could be content to give the first-fruit of his body to expiate the sin of his soul. Any thing, every thing is too small a price for peace. O Saviour, since we have tasted how sweet thou art, lo, we bring thee the daintiest and costliest perfumes of our humble obediences; yea, if so much of our blood, as this woman brought ointment, may be useful or pleasing to thy Name, we do most cheerfully consecrate it unto thee. If we would not have thee think heaven too good for us, why should we stick at any earthly retribution to thee, in lieu of thy great mercies?

Yet here I see more than the price. This odoriferous perfume was that, wherewith she had wont to make herself pleasing to her wanton lovers; and now she comes purposely to offer it up to her Saviour.

As her love was turned another way, from sensual to Divine, so shall her ointment also be altered in the use. That, which was abused to luxury, shall now be consecrated to devotion. There is no other effect, in whatsoever true conversion: As we have given our members servants to iniquity to commit iniquity, so shall we now give our members servants unto righteousness in holiness. If the dames of Israel, that thought nothing more worth looking on than their own faces, have spent too much time in their glasses; now they shall cast in those metals, to make a laver for the washing off their uncleannesses. If I have spent the prime of my strength, the strength of my wit, upon myself and vanity; I have bestowed my alabaster-box amiss: Oh now teach me, my God and Saviour, to improve all my time, all my abilities, to thy glory. This is all the poor recompence can be made thee, for those shameful dishonours thou hast received from me.

The woman is come in; and now she doth not boldly face Christ, but, as unworthy of his presence, she stands behind. How could she in that site wash his feet with her tears? Was it, that our Saviour did not sit at the feast, after our fashion; but, according to the then Jewish and Roman fashion, lie on the one side? Or was it, that this phrase doth not so much import posture, as presence? Doubtless, it was bashfulness and shame, arising from the conscience of her own former wickedness, that placed her thus. How well is the case altered! She had wont, to look boldly in the face of her lovers; now she dares not behold the awful countenance of her Saviour: she had wont, to send her alluring beams forth into the eyes of her wanton paramours; now she casts her dejected eyes to the earth, and dares not so much as raise them up to see those eyes,

from which she desired commiseration. It was a true inference of the prophet, Thou hast a whore's forehead, thou canst not blush: there cannot be a greater sign of whorishness, than impudence, This woman can now blush: she hath put off the harlot, and is turned true Penitent. Bashfulness is both a sign and effect of grace. O God, could we but bethink how wretched we are in nature, how vile through our sins, how glorious, holy, and powerful a God thou art, before whom the brightest angels hide their faces, we could not come, but with a trembling awfulness into thy pre

sence.

Together with shame, here is sorrow: a sorrow testified by tears; and tears in such abundance, that she washes the feet of our Saviour with those streams of penitence; She began to wash his feet with tears. We hear when she began; we hear not when she ended. When the grapes are pressed, the juice runs forth: so, when the mind is pressed, tears distil; the true juice of penitence and sorrow. These eyes were not used to such clouds, or to such showers; there was nothing in them formerly, but sunshine of pleasure, beams of lust now they are resolved into the drops of grief and contrition. Whence was this change, but from the secret working of God's Spirit? He caused his wind to blow, and the waters flowed: he smote the rock, and the waters gushed out, O God, smite thou this rocky heart of mine, and the waters of repentance shall burst forth in abundance.

Never were thy feet, O Saviour, bedewed with more precious liquor, than this of remorseful tears. These cannot be so spent, but that thou keepest them in thy bottle; yea, thou returnest them back with interest of true comfort: They, that sow in tears, shall reap in joy. Blessed are they that mourn. Lo this wet seed-time shall be followed with a harvest of happiness and glory.

That this service might be complete, as her eyes were the ewer, so her hair was the towel for the feet of Christ, Doubtless, at a feast, there was no want of the most curious linen for this pur pose. All this was nothing to her: to approve her sincere humility, and hearty devotion to Christ, her hair shall be put to this glo rious office. The hair is the chief ornament of womanhood; the feet, as they are the lowest part of the body, so the meanest for account, and homeliest for employment: and lo, this Penitent bestows the chief ornament of her head, on the meanest office to the feet of her Saviour. That hair, which she was wont to spread, as a net to catch her amorous companions, is honoured with the employment of wiping the beautiful feet of him, that brought the glad tidings of peace and salvation; and, might it have been any service to him to have licked the dust under those feet of his, how gladly would she have done it! Nothing can be mean, that is done to the honour of a Saviour,

Never was any hair so preferred as this. How I envy those locks, that were graced with the touch of those Sacred feet; but much more those lips, that kissed them! Those lips, that had been for

merly inured to the wanton touches of her lascivious lovers, now sanctify themselves with the testimony of her humble homage and dear respects to the Son of God.

Thus her ointment, hands, eyes, hair, lips are now consecrated to the service of Christ her Saviour, whom she had offended. If our satisfaction be not in some kind proportionable to our offence, we are no true penitents.

All this while, I hear not one word fall from the mouth of this woman. What need her tongue speak, when her eyes spake, her hands spake, her gesture, her countenance, her whole carriage was vocal? I like this silent speaking well; when our actions talk, and our tongues hold their peace. The common practice is contrary. Men's tongues are busy, but their hands are still. All their religion lies in their tongue; their hands either do nothing, or ill: so as their profession is but wind, as their words. Wherefore are words, but for expression of the mind? If that could be known by the eye or by the hand, the language of both were alike. There are no words amongst spirits; yet they perfectly understand each other. The heavens declare the glory of God. All tongues cannot speak so loud as they, that have none. Give me the Christian, that is seen, and not heard. The noise, that our tongue makes in a formality of profession, shall, in the silence of our hands, condemn us for hypocrites.

The Pharisee saw all this, but with an evil eye. Had he not had some grace, he had never invited such a guest as Jesus; and if he had had grace enough, he had never entertained such a thought as this of the guest he invited: If this man were a prophet, he would have known what manner of woman it is, that toucheth him; for she is a sinner.

How many errors in one breath! Justly, O Simon, hath this one thought lost thee the thank of thy feast.

Belike, at the highest, thou judgedst thy guest but a prophet; and now, thou doubtest whether he were so much. Besides this undervaluation, how unjust is the ground of this doubt! Every prophet knew not every thing; yea, no prophet ever knew all things. Elisha knew the very secrets of the Assyrian privy-chamber; yet he knew not the calamity of his worthy hostess. The finite knowledge of the ablest Seer reaches but so far, as it will please God to extend it. Well might he therefore have been a prophet; and, in the knowledge of greater matters, not have known this.

Unto this, how weakly didst thou, because of Christ's silent admission of the woman, suppose him ignorant of her quality? as if knowledge should be measured always, by the noise of expression. Stay but awhile, and thou shalt find, that he well knew both her life and thy heart.

Besides, how injuriously dost thou take this woman for what she was! not conceiving, as well thou mightest," Were not this woman a convert, she would never have offered herself into this pre

sence.' "Her modesty and her tears bewray her change; and if she be changed, why is she censured, for what she is not?

Lastly, how strong did it savour of the leaven of thy profession; that thou supposedst, were she what she was, that it could not stand with the knowledge and holiness of a prophet, to admit of her least touch, yea of her presence! Whereas, on the one side, outward conversation in itself makes no man unclean or holy, but according to the disposition of the patient; on the other, such was the purity and perfection of this thy glorious guest, that it was not possibly infectible, nor any way obnoxious to the danger of others' sin. He, that said once, Who touched me? in regard of virtue issuing from him, never said, "Whom have I touched?" in regard of any contagion incident to him. We, sinful creatures, in whom the Prince of this World finds too much, may easily be tainted with other men's sins: he, who came to take away the sins of the world, was uncapable of pollution by sin. Had the woman then been still a sinner, thy censure of Christ was proud and

unjust.

The Pharisee spake; but it was within himself: and now, behold, Jesus answering, said.

What we think, we speak to our hearts, and we speak to God; and he equally hears, as if it came out of our mouths. Thoughts are not free. Could men know and convince them, they would be no less liable to censure, than if they came forth clothed with words. God, who hears them, judges of them accordingly. So here, the heart of Simon speaks, Jesus answers.

Jesus answers him; but with a Parable. He answers many a thought, with judgment; the blasphemy of the heart, the murder of the heart, the adultery of the heart are answered by him, with real vengeance. For Simon, our Saviour saw his error was either out of simple ignorance or weak mistaking: where he saw no malice then, it is enough to answer with a gentle conviction.

The convictive answer of Christ is by way of parable. The wisdom of God knows how to circumvent us for our gain; and can speak that pleasingly by a prudent circumlocution, which rightdown would not be digested. Had our Saviour said in plain terms,

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Simon, whether dost thou or this sinner love me more?" the Pharisee could not, for shame, but have stood upon his reputation; and in a scorn of the comparison, have protested his exceeding respects to Christ. Now, ere he is aware, he is fetched in to give sentence against himself, for her whom he condemned. O Saviour, thou hast made us fishers of men: how should we learn of thee, so to bait our hooks, that they may be most likely to take! Thou, the great Householder of thy Church, hast provided victuals for thy family; thou hast appointed us to dress them: if we do not so cook them, as that they may fit the palates to which they are intended, we do both lose our labour and thy cost.

The parable is of two debtors to one creditor: the one owed a lesser sum; the other, a greater: both are forgiven. It was not the purpose of him, that propounded it, that we should stick in the

bark. God is our creditor; our sins our debts. We are all debtors; but one more deep than another. No man can pay this debt alone; satisfaction is not possible: only remission can discharge us. God doth in mercy forgive, as well the greatest as the least sins. Our love to God is proportionable to the sense of our remission. So then the Pharisee cannot choose but confess, that the more and greater the sin is, the greater mercy in the forgiveness; and the more mercy in the forgiver, the greater obligation and more love in the forgiven.

Truth, from whose mouta soever it falls, is worth taking up. Our Saviour praises the true judgment of a Pharisee. It is an injurious indiscretion in those, who are so prejudiced against the persons, that they reject the truth. He, that would not quench the smoking flax, encourages even the least good. As the careful chirurgeon strokes the arm, ere he strikes the vein; so did Christ here, ere he convinces the Pharisee of his want of love, he graceth him with a fair approbation of his judgment: yet the while turning both his face and his speech to the poor penitent; as one that cared more for a true humiliation for sin, than for a false pretence of respect and innocence.

With what a dejected and abashed countenance, with what earthfixed eyes, do we imagine the poor woman stood, when she saw her Saviour direct his face and words to her! She, that durst but stand behind him, and steal the falling of some tears upon his feet, with what a blushing astonishment doth she behold his sidereal countenance cast upon her!

While his eye was turned towards this Penitent, his speech was turned to the Pharisee concerning that Penitent, by him mistaken: Seest thou this woman? He, who before had said, Iƒ this man were a prophet, he would have known what manner of woman this is; now hears, Seest thou this woman? Simon saw but her outside: Jesus lets him see, that he saw her heart; and will thus convince the Pharisee, that he is more than a prophet, who knew not her conversation only, but her soul.

The Pharisee, that went all by appearance, shall, by her deportment, see the proof of her good disposition: it shall happily shame him, to hear the comparison of the wants of his own entertainments, with the abundance of hers. It is strange, that any of this formal sect should be defective in their lotions. Simon had not given water to so great a guest; she washes his feet with her tears. By how much the water of the eye was more precious than the water of the earth, so much was the respect and courtesy of this Penitent above the neglected office of the Pharisee. What use was there of a towel, where was no water? She, that made a fountain of her eyes, made precious napery of her hair that better flax shamed the linen in the Pharisee's chest. A kiss of the cheek had wont to be pledge of the welcome of their guests. Simon neglects to make himself thus happy: she redoubles the kisses of her humble thankfulness upon the blessed feet of her Saviour. The Pharisee omits ordinary oil for the head: she supplies the