Sixthly, yet more loss, and that is the loss of losses, the loss of his soul; his riches, lands, houses, friends, time, and all were nothing to his soul. This is that Paragon, Peer, Rose, and Spouse of our well-beloved Christ. How many a tear shed he to save it? what groans cries, prayers, tears, and blood, poured he before God, that he might redeem it from the jaws of Satan? and is this lost notwithstanding all this labour? O sweet Jesus! what a loss is this? thou wast born, lived, died, and that a shameful death, (the death of the cross) and all this ⟨p. 48⟩suffering was to save poor souls: yet see a soul here lost, and the blood of God, though able, not effectual to redeem it. Whose heart would not melt into blood, that but knew this misery? Suppose you could see the soul of this wretched worldling, no sooner had it left the body, but immediately was it seized on by infernal fiends, now lies it on a bed of fire, tortured, tormented scourged, and scorched in those furious flames; there his conscience stings him, his sorrow gripes him, his pain so handles him, that he cries, and roars, Woe, woe, and alas evermore. Who now for shadows of short pleasures, would incur these sorrows of eternal pains? In this world we can weep and wail for a loss of trifles: an house, a field, an Ox took from us, is enough to cruciate us; but how shall we bewail the loss of a soul, which no sooner plunged into that pit of horror, but it shall feel a punishment without pity, misery without mercy, sorrow without succour, crying without comfort, torment without ease, a world of mischief, without all measure or redress? Such is the loss of this mans silly soul, whilst he was cheering it with an home-bred solace; Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many years: God whispers in his ears, and tells him other news: What? of his soul: how? it is required: when? this night: a fearful sound unlooked-for message, speedy dispatch, no more delays, nor days, only this night, for then must his soul be taken from him.
Sixthly, yet more losse, and that is the losse of losses, the losse of his soul; his riches, lands, houses, friends, time, and all were nothing to his soul. This is that Paragon, Peere, Rose, and Spouse of our well-beloved Christ. How many a teare shed he to save it? what grones cryes, prayers, teares, and bloud, poured he before God, that he might redeem it from the jawes of Satan? and is this lost notwithstanding all this labour? O sweet Jesu! what a losse is this? thou wast born, lived, died, and that a shamefull death, (the death of the cross) and all this ⟨p. 48⟩suffering was to save poor souls: yet see a soul here lost, and the bloud of God, though able, not effectuall to redeem it. Whose heart would not melt into bloud, that but knew this misery? Suppose you could see the soul of this wretched worldling, no sooner had it left the body, but immediately was it seized on by infernall fiends, now lies it on a bed of fire, tortured, tormented scourged, and scorched in those furious flames; there his conscience stings him, his sorrow gripes him, his pain so handles him, that he cryes, and roares, Woe, woe, and alas evermore. Who now for shadows of short pleasures, would incur these sorrows of eternall pains? In this world we can weep and wail for a losse of trifles: an house, a field, an Oxe took from us, is enough to cruciate us; but how shall we bewail the losse of a soul, which no sooner plunged into that pit of horrour, but it shall feel a punishment without pity, misery without mercy, sorrow without succour, crying without comfort, torment without ease, a world of mischiefe, without all measure or redress? Such is the losse of this mans silly soul, whilest he was cheering it with an home-bred solace; Soul, thou hast much goods layd up for many years: God whispers in his eares, and tells him other newes: What? of his soul: how? it is required: when? this night: a fearfull sound unlookt-for message, speedy dispatch, no more delays, nor days, onely this night, for then must his soul be taken from him.
