A27017:344
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.
SECT. XIX.1
- 1§ 19.
Ninthly.9 The ninth and last Jewel in our Crown▪ and blessed Attribute of this Rest, is, That it is an Eternal Rest. This is the Crown of our Crown; without which all were comparatively, little or nothing. The very thought of once leaving it, would else embitter all our joys; and the more would it pierce us, because of the singular excellencies, which we must forsake. It would ⟨p. 130⟩be a Hell in Heaven to think of once loosing Heaven: As it would be a kind of Heaven to the damned, had they but hopes of once escaping? *Mortality is the disgrace of all sublunary delights. It makes our present life of little value, (were it not for the reference it hath to God, and Eternity) to think that we must shortly lay it down. How can we take delight in any thing, when we remember how short that delight would be? That the sweetness of our Cups and Morsels is dead as soon as they are once but pa•• our taste? Indeed if man were as the beast, that knows not his suffering or death, till he feel it, and little thinks when the knife is whetting, that it is making ready to cut his throat; then might we be merry till death forbids us, and enjoy our delights till they shall forsake us: But alas, we know both good and evil; and evil foreknown, is in part endured: And thus our knowledge increaseth our sorrows. Eccles. 1.18. How can it choose, but spoil our pleasure, while we see it dying in our hands? how can I be as merry as the jovial World, had I not mine eye fixed upon eternity? when methinks I foresee my dying hour, my friends waiting for my last gasp, and closing mine eyes, while tears forbid to close their own: Methinks I hear them say, He is dead. Methinks I see my Coffin made, my Grave in digging, and my Friends there leaving me in the dust: And where now is that we took delight in? O, but methinks I see at the same view, that Grave opening, and my dead revived Body rising: Methinks I hear that blessed voice, Arise and live, and die no more. Surely, were it not for eternity, I should think man a silly piece; and all his life and honour, but contemptible. I should call him with David, A vain shadow; and with the Prophet, Nothing, and less then nothing, and altogether lighter then vanity it self. It utterly disgraceth the greatest glory in mine eyes, if you can but truly call it Mortal. I can value nothing that shall have an end; except as it leads to that which hath no end;