A27017:2059
The Saints' Everlasting Rest
The saints everlasting rest, or, A treatise of the blessed state of the saints in their enjoyment of God in glory wherein is showed its excellency and certainty, the misery of those that lose it, the way to attain it, and assurance of it, and how to live in the continual delightful forecasts of it and now published by Richard Baxter ...The saints everlasting rest, or, A treatise of the blessed state of the saints in their enjoyment of God in glory wherein is shewed its excellency and certainty, the misery of those that lose it, the way to attain it, and assurance of it, and how to live in the continual delightful forecasts of it and now published by Richard Baxter ...
London: printed by Rob. White for Thomas Underhil and Francis Tyton, 1650
Modern spelling is a reading aid: the words are the author’s, only the spelling is modernized. Original shows the page as printed, with the transcription marks.
No, Lord, I yield, I am unable, I am overcome; O blessed conquest! Go on victoriously, and still prevail, and triumph in thy love: The Captive of Love, shall proclaim thy victory; when thou leadest me in triumph from Earth to Heaven, from Death to Life, from the Tribunal to the Throne, my self, and all that see it, shall acknowledge that thou hast prevailed, and all shall say, Behold how he loved him. — Yet let me love thee in subjection to thy Love, as thy redeemed Captive, though not thy Peer; shall I not love at all because I cannot reach thy measure? or at least, let me heartily wish to love thee. O that I were able! O that I could feelingly say, I love thee! even as I feel I love my friend, and my self! Lord, that I could do it! but alas, I cannot, fain I would, but alas, I cannot. Would I not love thee, if I were but able? Though I cannot say as thy Apostle, Thou knowest that I Love thee, yet can I say, Lord, thou knowest that I would love thee; but I speak not this to excuse my fault, it is a crime that admits of no excuse, and it is my own, it dwelleth as near me as my very heart; if my heart be my own, this sin is my own, yea and more my own then my heart is. —Lord, what shall this sinner do? the fault is my own, ⟨p. 800⟩[…] ⟨p. 801⟩[…] ⟨p. 802⟩and yet I cannot help it; I am angry with my heart that it doth not love thee, and yet I feel it love thee never the more; I frown up on it, and yet it cares not, I threaten it, but it doth not feel, I chide it, and yet it doth not mend, I reason with it, and would fain persuade it, and yet I do not perceive it stir, I rear it up as a carcass upon its legs, but it neither goes nor stands, I rub and chafe it in the use of thine Ordinances, and yet I feel it not warm within me.—O miserable man that I am—unworthy soul! is not thine eye now upon the only lovely object? and art thou not beholding the ravishing glory of the Saints? and yet dost thou not love? and yet dost thou not feel the fire break forth? why, art thou not a soul? a living spirit? and is not thy love the choicest piece of thy life? Art thou not a rational soul? and shouldst not thou love according to Reasons conduct? and doth it not tell thee, that all is dirt and dung to Christ? that earth is a dungeon to the celestial glory? Art thou not a spirit thy self? and shouldst thou not love spiritually? even God, who is a Spirit, and the Father of Spirits?