expression and proclamation of
his name in this place, that first a word of majesty and power is
premised,--"the Lord, the Lord God,"--that it may compose our hearts in fear
and reverence of such a glorious one, and make a preparatory impression of
the majesty of our God, which indeed is the foundation or all true faith.
It begins to adore and admire a deity, a majesty hid from the world. The
thoughts of his power and glory possess the soul first, and make it begin
to tremble to think that it hath such a high and holy one to deal with.

But, in the next place, you have the most sweet, alluring, comforting
styles that can be imagined, to meet with the trembling and languishing
condition of a soul that would be ready to faint before such a majesty.
Here Mercy takes it by the hand, and gives a cordial of grace, pardon,
forgiveness, &c. to it, which revives the soul of the humble, and
intermingles some rejoicing with former trembling. Majesty and greatness
go before to abase and humble the soul in its own eyes; and mercy and
goodness second them to lift up those who are low and exalt the humble.
And in the description of this, the Lord spends more words, according to
the necessity of a soul, to signify to us how great and strong consolation
may be grounded on his name,--how accessible he is, though he dwell in
accessible light,--how lovely he is, though he be the high and the lofty
one,--how good he is, though he be great,--how merciful he is, though he be
majestic. In a word, that those that flee to him may have all invitation,
all encouragement to come, and nothing to discourage, to prejudge their
welcome; that whoever will, may come, and nothing may hinder on his part.
And then, after all this, he subjoins a word of his justice, in avenging
sin, to show us that he leaves that as the last; that he essays all
gaining ways of mercy with us; and that he is not very much delighted with
the death of sinners, that so whosoever perishes may blame themselves for
hating their own salvation and forsaking their own mercy.

Now whoever thou art that apprehendest a dreadful and terrible God, and
thyself a miserable and wretched sinner, thou canst find no comfort in
God's highness and power, but it looks terrible upon thee, because thou
doubtest of his good-will to save and pardon thee. Thou sayest with the
blind man, If thou wilt, thou canst do it; thou art a strong God, but what
comfort can I have in thy strength, since I know not th