The Saints' Everlasting Rest

Rouse up thy self once more then, O my soul, and try and exercise thy spiritual Appetite; though thou art ignorant and unbelieving, yet art thou reasonable, and therefore must needs desire a Happiness and Rest: Nor canst thou sure be so unreasonable as to dream of attaining it here on earth: Thou knowest to thy sorrow that thou art not yet at thy Rest, and thy own feeling doth convince thee of thy present Unhappiness, and dost thou know that thou art restless, and yet art willing to continue so? Art thou neither happy in deed, nor in Desire? Art thou neither well, nor wouldest be well? when my flesh is pained, and languisheth under consuming sickness; how heartily and frequently do I cry out, O when shall I be eased of this pain? when shall my decaying strength be recovered? There's no dissembling nor formality in these Desires and Groans. How then should I long for my final full recovery? There is no sickness nor pain, nor weeping, nor complaints. O when shall I arrive at that safe and quiet Harbour, where is none of these storms and waves and dangers? when I shall never more have a weary, restless night or day! Then shall not my life be such a medley or mixture of hope and fear, of joy and sorrow, as now it is; nor shall Flesh and Spirit be combating within me, nor my soul be still as a pitched Field, or a Stage of contention, where Faith and Unbelief, Affiance and Distrust, Humility and Pride, do maintain a continual distracting conflict: then shall I not live a dying life for fear of dying, nor my life be made uncomfortable with the fears of losing it. O when shall I be past these soul-tormenting fears and cares, and griefs, and passions! ⟨p. 818⟩When shall I be out of this frail,¹ this corruptible, ruinous body! This soul contradicting, ensnaring, deceiving flesh! When shall I be out of this vain, vexatious World! Whose pleasures are mere deluding dreams and shadows; whose miseries are real, numerous, and unceasing? How long shall I see the Church of Christ lie trodden under the feet of persecutors? or else as a ship in the hands of foolish guides (though the supreme Master doth moderate all for the best.) Alas, that I must stand by and see the Church, and Cause of Christ, like a Football in the midst of a crowd of Boys, tossed about in contention from one to another;

Rowse up thy self once more then, O my soul, and try and exercise thy spiritual Appetite; though thou art ignorant and unbelieving, yet art thou reasonable, and therefore must needs desire a Happiness and Rest: Nor canst thou sure be so unreasonable as to dream of attaining it here on earth: Thou knowest to thy sorrow that thou art not yet at thy Rest, and thy own feeling doth convince thee of thy present Unhappiness, and dost thou know that thou art restless, and yet art willing to continue so? Art thou neither happy in deed, nor in Desire? Art thou neither well, nor wouldest be well? when my flesh is pained, and languisheth under consuming sickness; how heartily and frequenly do I cry out, O when shall I be eased of this pain? when shall my decaying strength be recovered? Ther's no dissembling nor formality in these Desires and Groans. How then should I long for my finall full recovery? There is no sickness nor pain, nor weeping, nor complaints. O when shall I arrive at that safe and quiet Harbor, where is none of these storms and waves and dangers? when I shall never more have a weary, restless night or day! Then shall not my life be such a medley or mixture of hope and fear, of joy and sorrow, as now it is; nor shall Flesh and Spirit be combating within me, nor my soul be still as a pitched Field, or a Stage of contention, where Faith and Unbelief, Affiance and Distrust, Humility and Pride, do maintain a continual distracting conflict: then shall I not live a dying life for fear of dying, nor my life be made uncomfortable with the fears of losing it. O when shall I be past these soul-tormenting fears and cares, and griefs, and passions!