But it is far otherwise with sensual delights: As they are sinful, they are wholly evil: As they are natural, feeding upon the creature alone, they are as it is, a mixture of Vanity and Vexation. Every creature hath its unsuitableness and imperfection, by which it disturbeth even where it pleaseth, and troubleth where it comforteth, and frustrateth and disappointeth more then it satisfieth. The more we Love it, usually the more we suffer by it. That thing which we most excessively love, is ordinarily our sharpest scourge. That friend whom we most excessively love, is usually our greatest sorrow: either by their failing our expectations, or by our failing theirs, or our insufficiency to accomplish the good which we desire of them. If they prove unkind, it is more grievous then the unkindness of many others: If they prove faithful, how deeply do we suffer with them in all their sufferings? Their wants do pinch us as our own: Their reproaches are our shame: Their losses take as much from us: Their sickness paineth us: Their death half killeth us: And he that is so happy as to have many such friends, is so unhappy as to have more burdens, fears and griefs to suffer, and more deaths to die then other men. But especially to ungodly men, these earthly comforts are uncomfortable, because they have none of the Divine delights that are the kernel and the spirits, but take up with the shell or husk: And because their mirth is mixed with their own misery, which conscience sometime gripes them for with such deep remorse as cools their comforts: And some thoughts of the shortness of their pleasures will be stepping in, and ending them before their time: So that the bitterness of worldly things surpasseth the delight.
But it is far otherwise with sensual delights: As they are sinful, they are wholly evil: As they are natural, feeding upon the creature alone, they are as it is, a mixture of Vanity and Vexation. Every creature hath its unsuitableness and imperfection, by which it disturbeth even where it pleaseth, and troubleth where it comforteth, and frustrateth and disappointeth more then it satisfieth. The more we Love it, usually the more we suffer by it. That thing which we most excessively love, is ordinarily our sharpest scourge. That friend whom we most excessively love, is usually our greatest sorrow: either by their failing our expectations, or by our failing theirs, or our insufficiency to accomplish the good which we desire of them. If they prove unkind, it is more grievous then the unkindness of many others: If they prove faithful, how deeply do we suffer with them in all their sufferings? Their wants do pinch us as our own: Their reproaches are our shame: Their losses take as much from us: Their sickness paineth us: Their death half killeth us: And he that is so happy as to have many such friends, is so unhappy as to have more burdens, fears and griefs to suffer, and more deaths to die then other men. But especially to ungodly men, these earthly comforts are uncomfortable, because they have none of the Divine delights that are the kernel and the spirits, but take up with the shell or husk: And because their mirth is mixt with their own misery, which conscience sometime gripes them for with such deep remorse as cools their comforts: And some thoughts of the shortness of their pleasures will be stepping in, and ending them before their time: So that the bitterness of worldly things surpasseth the delight.
