First, the distressed Christian must unfeignedly humble his soul for former ignorance, vanity of Mind, disesteem of mercy, timorousness, discontent, unbelief, misinterpreting the Lords doings, solitary musings on the temptations of Satan, self confidence, and such other sins which may seem to set upon the soul to the fierce and dreadful assaults of Satan: and in that acknowledgement and humiliation he must unfold his present misery before the Lord. O my God, I am ashamed and confounded, and blush to lift up my face to thee, my God:1 for my sins are multiplied exceedingly, and mine iniquities are risen up against me. I was conceived in sin, I I have lived in vanity: my thoughts are loose, mine affections boisterous I have disesteemed mercy, regarded lying vanities; given way to doubtful reasonings, pettishly taken on when my carnal desires have been crossed; distrusted thy promises, disputed with thee of thy judgements; given way to thoughts of unbelief, harboured unquietness and discontent: and so exposed my soul to the most violent, horrible and fiery tentations and assaults of Satan. My soul which should ⟨p. 314⟩be seasoned with sweet meditation on thy goodness, mercy, and grace manifested in Jesus Christ, delighted in the promises of mercy, and ravished with the joys of Heaven, is continually pestered and assailed with the black and hellish thoughts of Atheism, despair, blasphemy, discontent; and extremely tortured with soul-vexing fears. O my God, look mercifully upon the misery of a poor distressed sinner. I am brought into great darkness, and can see no light. There is no soundness in my flesh, nor rest in my bones, nor quiet in my soul. My heart trembleth, my strength faileth me, my life is spent with grief, my spirit within me is overwhelmed: and prevailing fears so tyrannize over me, that I cannot speak. My Mind is full of disorder and confusion, my heart of terror: my soul refuseth comfort. In the day I am terrified with thoughts, in the night affrighted with dreams.2 I am sore wounded and broken, I go mourning and desolate all the day: my moisture is like the drought of summer, and in this deep discomfort the Tempter ceaseth not to suggest,3 That there is no help for me in my God.
First, the distressed Christian must vnfainedly humble his soule for former ignorance, vanitie of Minde, disesteeme of mercy, timorousnes, discontent, vnbeliefe, misinterpreting the Lords doings, solitary musings on the temptations of Satan, selfe confidence, and such other sinnes which may seeme to set vpon the soule to the fierce and dreadfull assaults of Satan: and in that acknowledgement and humiliation hee must vnfold his present misery before the Lord. O my God, I am ashamed and confounded, and blush to lift vp my face to thee, my God:1 for my sins are multiplied exceedingly, and mine iniquities are risen vp against me. I was conceiued in sinne, I I haue liued in vanitie: my thoughts are loose, mine affections boisterous I haue disesteemed mercy, regarded lying vanities; giuen way to doubtfull reasonings, pettishly taken on when my carnall desires haue beene crossed; distusted thy promises, disputed with thee of thy iudgements; giuen way to thoughts of vnbeliefe, harboured vnquietnesse and discontent: and so exposed my soule to the most violent, horrible and fierie tentations and assaults of Satan. My soule which should ⟨p. 314⟩be seasoned with sweete meditation on thy goodnesse, mercie, and grace manifested in Iesus Christ, delighted in the promises of mercie, and rauished with the ioyes of Heauen, is continually pestered and assailed with the blacke and hellish thoughts of Atheisme, despaire, blasphemie, discontent; and extreamely tortured with soule-vex•ng feares. O my God, looke mercifully vpon the miserie of a poore distressed sinner. I am brought into great darkenesse, and can see no light. There is no soundnesse in my flesh, nor rest in my bones, nor quiet in my soule. My heart trembleth, my strength faileth me, my life is spent with griefe, my spirit within mee is ouerwhelmed: and preuailing feares so tyrannize ouer me, that I cannot speake. My Minde is full of disorder and confusion, my heart of terrour: my soule refuseth comfort. In the day I am terrified with thoughts, in the night affrighted with dreames.2 I am sore wounded and broken, I goe mourning and desolate all the day: my moisture is like the drought of summer, and in this deepe discomfort the Tempter ceaseth not to suggest,3 That there is no helpe for me in my God.
- 1Ezra. 9.6.
- 2Psal. 38.8.10. Psal. 32.4.
- 3Psal. 3.2.
