yet do I murmur to bear any thing from or for him. Alas, he did far more readily part with his life for me, than I do with a lust for him; Yea, those sins that were my Saviours Murderers, do I entertain and cherish in my heart, and yet I say I love him; but how can I love two Masters? so much of the love of sin as there is in my heart, so much enmity is there against Christ; and O how much is there then in my heart? to this day I flatter my self that I love him, but alas! where is my tenderness of his honour, my care to please him, my zeal for him, my delight in him, my longing after him: Ah where are these fruits of my love to him? Alas! what a stranger am I to these things! well may he reply upon me, as she upon Sampson, How canst thou say thou lovest me, when thy heart ⟨p. 316⟩is not with me? I can see him pouring out his Soul on the Cross for me, praying, sweating, bleeding for me, conflicting with the Torments of Hell for me, and wrestling with the wrath of the infinite God for me, that I might be delivered; and yet, O Rock of Adamant that I am, I bleed not, I melt not, I mourn not, I can read the story of his Love letters to my soul, and view all the passages of his love to me, his compassions towards me, his care of me, his provision for me, upholding, protecting, strengthening, delivering me; yet nothing moves me: Ah how I read the story of his bitter death and passion, with dry eyes, and a hard heart! and all passes away like a Tale that is told; sometimes it may be my heart may be warmed, and my affections will seem to be in a flame, and O then what I will do, how I will live, how zealously I will act, and how cheerfully I will suffer for Christ, I will spend and be spent for him, not a lust shall be spared, not a duty that shall be baulked; but alas! my Righteousness is like the morning dew, and like the ea•ly cloud that vanisheth away. 'Tis strange to see how soon my fire is out, and my affections congealed, upon a sudden I am all over ice again, and O what a rubbing and a chafing must I use, to keep alive a little heat, a little warmth! and all is scarce enough neither, when will the blessed time come, when shall I be swallowed up in Love? Oh Blessed are you who are now with Christ, that live continually in the sweet embraces of those ⟨p. 317⟩blessed Arms, you are all the Beloved Disciples, and have the privilege to lean on his Breast;
yet do I murmur to bear any thing from or for him. Alas, he did far more readily part with his life for me, than I do with a lust for him; Yea, those sins that were my Saviours Murtherers, do I entertain and cherish in my heart, and yet I say I love him; but how can I love two Masters? so much of the love of sin as there is in my heart, so much enmity is there against Christ; and O how much is there then in my heart? to this day I flatter my self that I love him, but alas! where is my tenderness of his honour, my care to please him, my zeal for him, my delight in him, my longing after him: Ah where are these fruits of my love to him? Alas! what a stranger am I to these things! well may he reply upon me, as she upon Sampson, How canst thou say thou lovest me, when thy heart ⟨p. 316⟩is not with me? I can see him powring out his Soul on the Cross for me, praying, sweating, bleeding for me, conflicting with the Torments of Hell for me, and wrestling with the wrath of the infinite God for me, that I might be delivered; and yet, O Rock of Adamant that I am, I bleed not, I melt not, I mourn not, I can read the story of his Loveletters to my soul, and view all the passages of his love to me, his compassions towards me, his care of me, his provision for me, upholding, protecting, strengthning, deliveri•g me; yet nothing moves me: Ah how I read the story of his bitter death and passion, with dry eyes, and a hard heart! and all passes away like a Tale that is told; sometimes it may be my heart may be warmed, and my affections will seem to be in a flame, and O then what I will do, how I will live, how zealously I will act, and how chearfully I will suffer for Christ, I will spend and be spent for him, not a lust shall be spared, not a duty that shall be baulked; but alas! my Righteousness is like the morning dew, and like the ea•ly cloud that vanisheth away. 'Tis strange to see how soon my fire is out, and my affections congealed, upon a suddain I am all over ice again, and O what a rubbing and a chafing must I use, to keep alive a little heat, a little warmth! and all is scarce enough neither, when will the blessed time come, when shall I be swallowed up in Love? Oh Blessed are you who are now with Christ, that live continually in the sweet embraces of those ⟨p. 317⟩blessed Arms, you are all the Beloved Disciples, and have the priviledge to lean on his Breast;
