Christians Fall So Far
CHRISTIANS FALL SO FAR
SHORT OF THE HOLINESS AND DEVOTION OF CHRISTIANITY.
IT may now be reasonably inquired, how it comes to pass, that the lives even of the better sort of people are thus strangely contrary to the principles of Christianity?
But before I give a direct answer to this, I desire it may also be inquired, how it comes to pass that swearing is so common a vice among Christians? It is indeed not yet so common among women, as it is among men. But among men this sin is so common, that perhaps there are more than two in three that are guilty of it through the whole course of their lives, swearing more or less, just as it happens, some constantly, others only now and then as it were by chance. Now I ask, how comes it, that two in three of the men are guilty of so gross and profane a sin as this is? There is neither ignorance nor human infirmity to plead for it; it is against an express commandment, and the most plain doctrines of our blessed Saviour.
Do but now find the reason why the generality of men live in this notorious vice, and then you will have found the reason why the generality even of the better sort of people live so contrary to Christianity.
Now the reason of common swearing is this; it is because men have not so much as the intention to please God in all their actions. For let a man but have so much piety as to intend to please God in all the actions of his life, as the happiest and best thing in the world, and then he will never swear more. It will be as impossible for him to swear, whilst he feels this intention within himself, as it is impossible for a man that intends to please his prince, to go up and abuse him to his face.
It seems but a small and necessary part of piety to have such a sincere intention as this; and that he has no reason to look upon himself as a disciple of Christ who is not thus far advanced in piety. And yet it is purely for want of this degree of piety, that you see such a mixture of sin and folly in the lives even of the better sort of people. It is for want of this intention that you see men that profess religion, yet live in swearing and sensuality; that you see clergymen given to pride, and covetousness, and worldly enjoyments. It is for want of this intention, that you see women that profess devotion, yet living in all the folly and vanity of dress, wasting their time in idleness and pleasures, and in all such instances of state and equipage as their estates will reach. For let but a woman feel her heart full of this intention, and she will find it as impossible to patch or paint, as to curse or swear; she will no more desire to shine at balls or assemblies, or make a figure amongst those that are most finely dressed, than she will desire to dance upon a rope to please spectators: she will know, that the one is as far from the wisdom and excellency of the Christian spirit as the other.
It was this general intention, that made the primitive Christians such eminent instances of piety, and made the goodly fellowship of the saints, and all the glorious army of martyrs and confessors. And if you will here stop, and ask yourselves, why you are not as pious as the primitive Christians were, your own heart will tell you, that it is neither through ignorance, nor inability, but purely because you never thoroughly intended it. You observe the same Sunday worship that they did; and you are strict in it, because it is your full intention to be so. And when you as fully intend to be like them in their ordinary common life, when you intend to please God in all your actions, you will find it as possible, as to be strictly exact in the service of the Church. And when you have this intention to please God in all your actions, as the happiest and best thing in the world, you will find in you as great an aversion to every thing that is vain and impertinent in common life, whether of business or pleasure, as you now have to any thing that is profane. You will be as fearful of living in any foolish way either of spending your time, or your fortune, as you are now fearful of neglecting the public worship.
Now, who that wants this general sincere intention, can be reckoned a Christian? And yet if it was among Christians, it would change the whole face of the world: true piety, and exemplary holiness, would be as common and visible, as buying and selling, or any trade in life.
Let a clergyman be but thus pious, and he will converse as if he had been brought up by an Apostle; he will no more think and talk of noble preferment, than of noble eating, or a glorious chariot. He wi ll no more complain of the frowns of the world, or small cure, or the want of a patron, than he will complain of the want of a laced coat, or a running horse. Let him but intend to please God in all his actions, as the happiest and best thing in the world, and then he will know, that there is nothing noble in a clergyman, but a burning zeal for the salvation of souls; nor any thin g, poor in his profession, but idleness and a worldly spirit.
Again, let a tradesman but have this intention, and it will make him a saint in his shop; his everyday business will be a course of wise and reasonable actions, made holy to God, by being done in obedience to His will and pleasure. He will buy and sell, and labour and travel, because by so doing he can do some good to himself and others. But then, as nothing can please God but what is wise, and reasonable, and holy, so he will neither buy nor sell, nor labour in any other manner, nor to any other end, but such as may be shown to be wise, and reasonable, and holy. He will therefore consider, not what arts, or methods, or application, will soonest make him richer and greater than his brethren, or remove him from a shop to a life of state and pleasure; but he will consider what arts, what methods, what application, can make worldly business most acceptable to God, and make a life of trade a life of holiness, devotion, and piety. This will be the temper and spirit of every tradesman; he cannot stop short of these degrees of piety, whenever it is his intention to please God in all his actions, as the best and happiest thing in the world.
And on the other hand, whoever is not of this spirit and temper in his trade and profession, and does not carry it on only so far as is best subservient to a wise, and holy, and heavenly life, it is certain that he has not this intention; and yet without it, who can be shown to be a follower of Jesus Christ?
Again, let the gentleman of birth and fortune but have this intention, and you will see how it will carry him from every appearance of evil, to every instance of piety and goodness.
He cannot live by chance, or as humour and fancy carry him, because he knows that nothing can please God but a wise and regular course of life. He cannot live in idleness and indulgence, in sports and gaming, in pleasures and intemperance, in vain expenses and high living, because these things cannot be turned into means of piety and holiness, or made so many parts of a wise and religious life.
As he thus removes from all appearance of evil, so he hastens and aspires after every instance of goodness. He does not ask what is allowable and pardonable, but what is commendable and praiseworthy. He does not ask whether God will forgive the folly of our lives, the madness of our pleasures, the vanity of our expenses, the richness of our equipage, and the careless consumption of our time; but he asks, whether God is pleased with these things, or whether these are the appointed ways of gaining His favour? He does not inquire, whether it be pardonable to hoard up money, to adorn ourselves with diamonds, and gild our chariots, whilst the widow and the orphan, the sick and the prisoner, want to be relieved; but he asks, whether God has required these things at our hands, whether we shall be called to account at the last day for the neglect of them; because it is not his intent to live in such ways as, for ought we know, God may perhaps pardon; but to be diligent in such ways, as we know that God will infallibly reward.
He will not therefore look at the lives of Christians, to learn how he ought to spend his estate, but he will look into the Scriptures, and make every doctrine, parable, precept, or instruction, that relates to rich men, a law to himself in the use of his estate.
He will have nothing to do with costly apparel, because the rich man in the Gospel was clothed with purple and fine linen. He denies himself the pleasures and indulgences which his estate could procure, because our blessed Saviour saith, "Woe unto you that are rich! for ye have received your consolation." (Luke 6:24) He will have but one rule for charity, and that will be, to spend all that he can that way, because the Judge of quick and dead hath said, that all that is so given, is given to Him.
He will have no hospitable table for the rich and wealthy to come and feast with him, in good eating and drinking; because our blessed Lord saith, "When thou makest a dinner, call not thy friends, nor thy brethren, neither thy kinsmen, nor thy rich neighbours, lest they also bid thee again, and a recompense be made thee. But when thou makest a feast, call the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind: and thou shalt be blessed; for they cannot recompense thee: for thou shalt be recompensed at the resurrection of the just." (Luke 14:12,13,14)
He will waste no money in gilded roofs, or costly furniture: he will not be carried from pleasure to pleasure in expensive state and equipage, because an inspired Apostle hath said, that " all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world." (1 John 2:16)
Let not any one look upon this as an imaginary description of charity, that looks fine in the notion, but cannot be put in practice. For it is so far from an imaginary, impracticable form of life, that it has been practised by great numbers of Christians in former ages, who were glad to turn their whole estates into a constant course of charity. And it is so far from been impossible now, that if we can find any Christians, that sincerely intend to please God in all their actions, as the best and happiest thing in the world, whether they be young or old, single or married, men or women, if they have but this intention, it will be impossible for them to do otherwise. This one principle will infallibly carry them to this height of charity, and they will find themselves unable to stop short of it.
For how is it possible for a man that intends to please God in the use of his money, and intends it because he judges it to be his greatest happiness; how is it possible for such a one, in such a state of mind, to bury his money in needless, impertinent finery, in covering himself or his horses with gold, whilst there are any works of piety and charity to be done with it, or any ways of spending it well?
This is as strictly impossible, as for a man that intends to please God in his words, to go into company on purpose to swear and lie. For as all waste and unreasonable expense is done designedly, and with deliberation, so no one can be guilty of it, whose constant intention is to please God in the use of his money.
I have chosen to explain this matter, by appealing to this intention, because it makes the case so plain, and because every one that has a mind may see it in the clearest light, and feel it in the strongest manner, only by looking into his own heart. For it is as easy for every person to know whether he intends to please God in all his actions, as for any servant to know whether this be his intention towards his master. Every one also can as easily tell how he lays out his money, and whether he considers how to please God in it, as he can tell where his estate is, and whether it be in money or land. So that here is no plea left for ignorance or frailty as to this matter; everybody is in the light, and everybody has power. And no one can fail, but he that is not so much a Christian, as to intend to please God in the use of his estate.
You see two persons, one is regular in public and private prayer, the other is not. Now the reason of this difference is not this, that one has strength and power to observe prayer, and the other has not; but the reason is this, that one intends to please God in the duties of devotion, and the other has no intention about it. Now the case is the same, in the right or wrong use of our time and money. You see one person throwing away his time in sleep and idleness, in visiting and diversions, and his money in the most vain and unreasonable expenses. You see another careful of every day, dividing his hours by rules of reason and religion, and spending all his money in works of charity: now the difference is not owing to this, that one has strength and power to do thus, and the other has not; but it is owing to this, that one intends to please God in the right use of all his time, and all his money, and the other has no intention about it.
Here, therefore, let us judge ourselves sincerely; let us not vainly content ourselves with the common disorders of our lives, the vanity of our expenses, the folly of our diversions, the pride of our habits, the idleness of our lives, and the wasting of our time, fancying that these are such imperfections as we fall into through the unavoidable weakness and frailty of our natures; let us be assured, that these disorders of our common life are owing to this, that we have not so much Christianity, as to intend to please God in all the actions of our life, as the best, and happiest thing in the world. So that we must not look upon ourselves in a state of common and pardonable imperfection, but in such a state, as wants the first and most fundamental principle of Christianity, viz. an intention to please God in all our actions.
And if any one was to ask himself, how it comes to pass, that there are any degrees of sobriety which he neglects, any practices of humility which he wants, any method of charity which he does not follow, any rules of redeeming time which ho does not observe, his own heart will tell him, that it is because he never intended to be so exact in those duties. For whenever we fully intend it, it is as possible to conform to all this regularity of life, as it is possible for a man to observe times of prayer.
So that the fault does not lie here, that we desire to be good and perfect, but through the weakness of our nature fall short of it; but it is, because we have not piety enough to intend to be as good as we can, or to please God in all the actions of our life. This we see is plainly the case of him that spends his time in sports when he should be at Church; it is not his want of power, but his want of intention, or desire to be there.
And the case is plainly the same in every other folly of human life. She that spends her time and money in the unreasonable ways and fashions of the world, does not do so because she wants power to be wise and religious in the management of her time and money, but because she has no intention or desire of being so. When she feels this intention, she will find it as possible to act up to it, as to be strictly sober and chaste, because it is her care and desire to be so.
This doctrine does not suppose, that we have no need of Divine grace, or that it is in our own power to make ourselves perfect. It only supposes, that through the want of a sincere intention of pleasing God in all our actions we fall into such irregularities of life as by the ordinary means of grace we should have power to avoid.
And that we have not that perfection, which our present state of grace makes us capable of, because we do not so much as intend to have it.
It only teaches us, that the reason why you see no real mortification or selfdenial, no eminent charity, no profound humility, no heavenly affection, no true contempt of the world, no Christian meekness, no sincere zeal, no eminent piety in the common lives of Christians, is this, because they do not so much as intend to be exact and exemplary in these virtues.
Chapter 3
Of the great danger and folly of not intending to be as eminent and exemplary as we can in the practice of all Christian virtues.
Although the goodness of God and his rich mercies in Christ Jesus are a sufficient assurance to us that he will be merciful to our unavoidable weaknesses and infirmities, that is, to such failings as are the effects of ignorance or surprise, yet we have no reason to expect the same mercy toward those sins which we have lived in through a want of intention to avoid them.
For instance, the case of a common swearer who dies in that guilt seems to have no title to the divine mercy for this reason, because he can no more plead any weakness or infirmity in his excuse than the man that hid his talent in the earth could plead his want of strength to keep it out of the earth.
But now if this be right reasoning in the case of a common swearer, that his sin is not to be reckoned a pardonable frailty because he has no weakness to plead in its excuse, why then do we not carry this way of reasoning to its true extent? Why don't we as much condemn every other error of life that has no more weakness to plead in its excuse than common swearing?
For if this be so bad a thing, because it might be avoided if we did but sincerely intend it, must not then all other erroneous ways of life be very guilty if we live in them, not through weakness and inability, but because we never sincerely intended to avoid them?
For instance, you perhaps have made no progress in the most important Christian virtues, you have scarce gone halfway in humility and charity; now if your failure in these duties is purely owing to your want of intention of performing them in any true degree, have you not then as little to plead for yourself and are you not as much without all excuse as the common swearer?
Why, therefore, don't you press these things home upon your conscience?
Why do you not think it as dangerous for you to live in such defects as are in your power to amend, as 'tis dangerous for a common swearer to live in the breach of that duty which it is in his power to observe? Is not negligence and a want of a sincere intention as blamable in one case as in another?
You, it may be, are as far from Christian perfection as the common swearer is from keeping the third commandment; are you not therefore as much condemned by the doctrines of the gospel as the swearer is by the third commandment?
You perhaps will say that all people fall short of the perfection of the gospel, and therefore you are content with your failings. But this is saying nothing to the purpose. For the question is not whether gospel perfection can be fully attained, but whether you come as near it as a sincere intention and careful diligence can carry you. Whether you are not in a much lower state than you might be, if you sincerely intended and carefully labored to advance yourself in all Christian virtues.
If you are as forward in the Christian life as your best endeavors can make you, then you may justly hope that your imperfections will not be laid to your charge; but if your defects in piety, humility, and charity are owing to your negligence and want of sincere intention to be as eminent as you can in these virtues, then you leave yourself as much without excuse as he that lives in the sin of swearing through the want of a sincere intention to depart from it.
The salvation of our souls is set forth in scripture as a thing of difficulty that requires all our diligence, that is to be worked out with fear and trembling.
We are told that "strait is the gate, and narrow is the way that leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it," that "many are called, but few are chosen." And that many will miss of their salvation who seem to have taken some pains to obtain it. As in these words, "Strive to enter in at the strait gate, for many I say unto you will seek to enter in, and shall not be able."
Here our blessed Lord commands us to strive to enter in because many will fail who only seek to enter. By which we are plainly taught that religion is a state of labor and striving, and that many will fail of their salvation, not because they took no pains or care about it, but because they did not take pains and care enough; they only sought, but did not strive to enter in.
Every Christian, therefore, should as well examine his life by these doctrines as by the commandments. For these doctrines are as plain marks of our condition as the commandments are plain marks of our duty.
For if salvation is only given to those who strive for it, then it is as reasonable for me to consider whether my course of life be a course of striving to obtain it as to consider whether I am keeping any of the commandments.
If my religion is only a formal compliance with those modes of worship that are in fashion where I live; if it costs me no pains or trouble; if it lays me under no rules and restraints; if I have no careful thoughts and sober reflections about it, is it not great weakness to think that I am striving to enter in at the strait gate?
If I am seeking everything that can delight my senses and regale my appetites, spending my time and fortune in pleasures, in diversions and worldly enjoyments, a stranger to watchings, fastings, prayers, and mortifications, how can it be said that I am working out my salvation with fear and trembling?
If there is nothing in my life and conversation that shows me to be different from Jews and heathens, if I use the world and worldly enjoyments as the generality of people now do and in all ages have done, why should I think that I am amongst those few who are walking in the narrow way to heaven?
And yet if the way is narrow, if none can walk in it but those that strive, is it not as necessary for me to consider whether the way I am in be narrow enough or the labor I take be a sufficient striving as to consider whether I sufficiently observe the second or third commandment?
The sum of this matter is this. From the above-mentioned and many other passages of scripture, it seems plain that our salvation depends upon the sincerity and perfection of our endeavors to obtain it.
Weak and imperfect men shall, notwithstanding their frailties and defects, be received as having pleased God if they have done their utmost to please Him.
The rewards of charity, piety, and humility will be given to those whose lives have been a careful labor to exercise these virtues in as high a degree as they could.
We cannot offer to God the service of angels; we cannot obey Him as man in a state of perfection could; but fallen men can do their best, and this is the perfection that is required of us; it is only the perfection of our best endeavors, a careful labor to be as perfect as we can.
But if we stop short of this, for ought we know we stop short of the mercy of God and leave ourselves nothing to plead from the terms of the gospel. For God has there made no promises of mercy to the slothful and negligent. His mercy is only offered to our frail and imperfect but best endeavors to practice all manner of righteousness.
As the law to angels is angelical righteousness, as the law to perfect beings is strict perfection, so the law to our imperfect natures is the best obedience that our frail nature is able to perform.
The measure of our love to God seems in justice to be the measure of our love of every virtue. We are to love and practice it with all our heart, with all our soul; with all our mind, and with all our strength. And when we cease to live with this regard to virtue, we live below our nature, and instead of being able to plead our infirmities, we stand chargeable with negligence.
It is for this reason that we are exhorted to work out our salvation with fear and trembling; because unless our heart and passions are eagerly bent upon the work of our salvation; unless holy fears animate our endeavors and keep our consciences strict and tender about every part of our duty, constantly examining how we live and how fit we are to die, we shall in all probability fall into a state of negligence and sit down in such a course of life as will never carry us to the rewards of Heaven.
And he that considers that a just God can only make such allowances as are suitable to His justice, that our works are all to be examined by fire, will find that fear and trembling are proper tempers for those that are drawing near so great a trial.
And indeed there is no probability that anyone should do all the duty that is expected from him, or make that progress in piety which the holiness and justice of God requires of him, but he that is constantly afraid of falling short of it.
Now this is not intended to possess people's minds with a scrupulous anxiety and discontent in the service of God, but to fill them with a just fear of living in sloth and idleness and in the neglect of such virtues as they will want at the day of judgment.
It is to excite them to an earnest examination of their lives, to such zeal and care and concern after Christian perfection as they use in any matter that has gained their heart and affections.
It is only desiring them to be so apprehensive of their state, so humble in the opinion of themselves, so earnest after higher degrees of piety, and so fearful of falling short of happiness as the great Apostle St. Paul was when he thus wrote to the Philippians: "Not as though I had already attained, either were already perfect, . . . but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before: I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus." And then he adds, "Let us therefore, as many as are perfect, be thus minded."
But now, if the Apostle thought it necessary for those who were in his state of perfection to be thus minded, that is, thus laboring, pressing, and aspiring after some degrees of holiness to which they were not then arrived, surely it is much more necessary for us, who are born in the dregs of time and laboring under great imperfections, to be thus minded, that is, thus earnest and striving after such degrees of a holy and divine life as we have not yet attained.
The best way for anyone to know how much he ought to aspire after holiness is to consider not how much will make his present life easy, but to ask himself how much he thinks will make him easy at the hour of death.
Now any man that dares be so serious as to put this question to himself will be forced to answer that at death everyone will wish that he had been as perfect as human nature can be.
Is not this therefore sufficient to put us not only upon wishing but laboring after all that perfection, which we shall then lament the want of? Is it not excessive folly to be content with such a course of piety as we already know cannot content us, at a time when we shall so want it as to have nothing else to comfort us? How can we carry a severer condemnation against ourselves than to believe that at the hour of death we shall want the virtues of the Saints and wish that we had been amongst the first servants of God, and yet take no methods of arriving at their height of piety whilst we are alive?
Though this is an absurdity that we can easily pass over at present, whilst the health of our bodies, the passions of our minds, the noise and hurry and pleasures and business of the world, lead us on with eyes that see not and ears that hear not, yet at death it will set itself before us in a dreadful magnitude, it will haunt us like a dismal ghost, and our conscience will never let us take our eyes from it.
We see in worldly matters what a torment self-condemnation is, and how hardly a man is able to forgive himself when he has brought himself into any calamity or disgrace, purely by his own folly. The affliction is made doubly tormenting because he is forced to charge it all upon himself as his own act and deed, against the nature and reason of things and contrary to the advice of all his friends.
Now by this we may in some degree guess how terrible the pain of that selfcondemnation will be when a man shall find himself in the miseries of death, under the severity of a selfcondemning conscience, charging all his distress upon his own folly and madness, against the sense and reason of his own mind, against all the doctrines and precepts of religion, and contrary to all the instructions, calls, and warnings, both of God and man.
Penitens was a busy, notable tradesman, and very prosperous in his dealings, but died in the thirty-fifth year of his age.
A little before his death, when the doctors had given him over, g some of his neighbors came one evening to see him, at which time he spake thus to them.
I see, says he, my friends, the tender concern you have for me by the grief that appears in your countenances, and I know the thoughts that you now have about me. You think how melancholy a case it is to see so young a man, and in such flourishing business, delivered up to death. And perhaps, had I visited any of you in my condition, I should have had the same thoughts of you.
But now, my friends, my thoughts are no more like your thoughts than my condition is like yours.
It is no trouble to me now to think that I am to die young, or before I have raised an estate. 9
These things are now sunk into such mere nothings that I have no name little enough to call them by. For if in a few days or hours, I am to leave this carcase to be buried in the earth, and to find myself either forever happy in the favor of God, or eternally separated from all light and peace, can any words sufficiently express the littleness of everything else?
Is there any dream like the dream of life which amuses us with the neglect and disregard of these things? Is there any folly like the folly of our manly state which is too wise and busy to be at leisure for these reflections?
When we consider death as a misery, we only think of it as a miserable separation from the enjoyments of this life. We seldom mourn over an old man that dies rich, but we lament the young that are taken away in the progress of their fortune. You yourselves look upon me with pity, not that I am going unprepared to meet the judge of quick and dead, but that I am to leave a prosperous trade in the flower of my life.
This is the wisdom of our manly thoughts. And yet what folly of the silliest children is so great as this?
For what is there miserable or dreadful in death, but the consequences of it?
When a man is dead, what does anything signify to him, but the state he is then in?
Our poor friend Lepidus died, you know, as he was dressing himself for a feast; do you think it is now part of his trouble that he did not live till that entertainment was over? Feasts and business and pleasures and enjoyments seem great things to us whilst we think of nothing else; but as soon as we add death to them, they all sink into an equal littleness; and the soul that is separated from the body no more laments the loss of business than the losing of a feast.
If I am now going into the joys of God, could there be any reason to grieve that this happened to me before I was forty years of age? Could it be a sad thing to go to Heaven before I had made a few more bargains, or stood a little longer behind a counter?
And if I am to go amongst lost spirits, could there be any reason to be content that this did not happen to me till I was old and full of riches?
If good angels were ready to receive my soul, could it be any grief to me that I was dying upon a poor bed in a garret?
And if God had delivered me up to evil spirits, to be dragged by them to places of torments, could it be any comfort to me that they found me upon a bed of state?
When you are as near death as I am, you will know that all the different states of life, whether of youth or age, riches or poverty, greatness or meanness, signify no more to you than whether you die in a poor or stately apartment. 10
The greatness of those things which follow death makes all that goes before it sink into nothing.
Now that judgment is the next thing that I look for, and everlasting happiness or misery is come so near me, all the enjoyments and prosperities of life seem as vain and insignificant, and to have no more to do with my happiness than the clothes that I wore before I could speak.
But, my friends, how am I surprised that I have not always had these thoughts? For what is there in the terrors of death, in the vanities of life, or the necessities of piety, but what I might have as easily and fully seen in any part of my life?
What a strange thing is it that a little health or the poor business of a shop should keep us so senseless of these great things that are coming so fast upon us!
Just as you came into my chamber, I was thinking with myself what numbers of souls there are now in the world in my condition at this very time, surprised with a summons to the other world; some taken from their shops and farms, others from their sports and pleasures, these at suits at law, those at gaming tables, some on the road, others at their own firesides, and all seized at an hour when they thought nothing of it, frighted at the approach of death, confounded at the vanity of all their labors, designs, and projects, astonished at the folly of their past lives and not knowing which way to turn their thoughts to find any comfort. Their consciences flying in their faces, bringing all their sins to their remembrance, tormenting them with deepest convictions of their own folly, presenting them with the sight of the angry Judge, the worm that never dies, the fire that is never quenched, the gates of Hell, the powers of darkness, and the bitter pains of eternal death.
Oh my friends! bless God that you are not of this number, that you have time and strength to employ yourselves in such works of piety as may bring you peace at the last.
And take this along with you, that there is nothing but a life of great piety, or a death of great stupidity, that can keep off these apprehensions.
Had I now a thousand worlds, I would give them all for one year more, that I might present unto God one year of such devotion and good works as I never before so much as intended.
You perhaps, when you consider that I have lived free from scandal and debauchery and in the communion of the church, wonder to see me so full of remorse and self-condemnation at the approach of death.
But alas! what a poor thing is it to have lived only free from murder, theft, and adultery, which is all that I can say of myself.
You know, indeed, that I have never been reckoned a sot, but you are, at the same time, witnesses, and have been frequent companions of my intemperance, sensuality, and great indulgence. And if I am now going to a judgement, where nothing will be rewarded but good works, I may well be concerned, that though I am no sot, yet I have no Christian sobriety to plead for me.
It is true, I have lived in the communion of the Church, and generally frequented its worship and service on Sundays, when I was neither too idle, or not otherwise disposed of by my business and pleasures. But, then, my conformity to the public worship has been rather a thing of course, than any real intention of doing that which the service of the Church supposes: had it not been so, I had been oftener at Church, more devout when there, and more fearful of ever neglecting it.
But the thing that now surprises me above all wonders is this, that I never had so much as a general intention of living -up to the piety of the Gospel. This never so much as entered into my bead or my heart. I never once in my life considered whether I was living as the laws of religion direct, or whether my way of life was such, as would procure me the mercy of God at this hour.
And can it be thought that I have kept the Gospel terms of salvation, without ever so much as intending, in any serious and deliberate manner, either to know them, or keep them? Can it be thought that I have pleased God with such a life as He requires, though I have lived without ever considering what He requires, or bow much I have performed? How easy a thing would salvation be, if it could fall into my careless hands, who have never had so much serious thoughts about it, as about any one common bargain that I have made.
In the business of life I have used prudence and reflection. I have done every thing by rules and methods. I have been glad to converse with men of experience and judgement to find out the reasons why some fail, and others succeed in any business. I have taken no step in trade but with great care and caution, considering every advantage or danger that attended it. I have always had my eye upon the main end of business, and have studied all the ways and means of being a gainer by all that I undertook.
But what is the reason that I have brought none of these tempers to religion?
What is the reason that I, who have so often talked of the necessity of rules, and methods, and diligence, in worldly business, have all this while never once thought of any rules, or methods, or managements, to carry me on in a life of piety?
Do you think any thing can astonish and confound a dying man like this?
What pain do you think a man must feel, when his conscience lays all this folly to his charge, when it shall show him how regular, exact, and wise he has been in small matters, that are passed away like a dream, and how stupid and senseless he has lived, without any reflection, without any rules, in things of such eternal moment, as no heart can sufficiently conceive them?
Had I only my frailties and imperfections to lament at this time, I should lie here humbly trusting in the mercies of God. But, alas! How can I call a general disregard, and a thorough neglect of all religious improvement, a frailty or imperfection, when it was as much in my power to have been exact and careful, and diligent in a course of piety, as in the business of my trade?
I could have called in as many helps, have practised as many rules, and been taught as many certain methods of holy living, as of thriving in my shop, bad I but so intended, and desired it.
Oh, my friends! A careless life, unconcerned and unattentive to the duties of religion, is so without all excuse, so unworthy of the mercy of God, such a shame to the sense and reason of our minds that I can hardly conceive a greater punishment, than for a man to be thrown into the state that I am in, to reflect upon it.
Penitens was here going on, but had his mouth stopped by a convulsion, which never suffered him to speak any more. He lay convulsed about twelve hours, and then gave up the ghost.
Now if every reader would imagine this Penitens to have been some particular acquaintance or relation of his, and fancy that he saw and heard all that is here described; that he stood by his bed-side when his poor friend lay in such distress and agony, lamenting the folly of his past life, it would, in all probability, teach him such wisdom as never entered into his heart before. If to this he should consider how often he himself might have been surprised in the same state of negligence, and made an example to the rest of the world, this double reflection, both upon the distress of his friend, and the goodness of that God, who had preserved him from it, would in all likelihood soften his heart into holy tempers, and make him turn the remainder of his life into a regular course of piety.
This therefore being so useful a meditation, I shall h ere leave the reader, as I hope, seriously engaged in it.