A treatise of self-denial. By Richard Baxter, pastor of the church at KidderminsterA treatise of self-denial. By Richard Baxter, pastor of the church at Kederminster

11. Moreover, as there is a Resurrection for the body it self, and that to a more perfect estate than it can here attain, so the whole nature shall be perfected beyond our present comprehension. This life was not intended to be the place of our perfection, but the preparation for it. As the fruit is far from ripeness in the first appearance, or the flower while it is but in the husk or bud; or the Oak when it is but an acorn; or any plant when it is but in the seed; no more is the very nature of man on earth: As the Infant is not perfect in the Womb, nor the Chicken in the shell, no more are our natures perfect in this world. Methinks for the sake of the body it self, much more of the soul, if we are believers, we should submit contentedly to death. While you are here you know that creatures will fail you, enemies will hate you, friends will grieve you, neighbours will wrong you, Satan will tempt you and molest you; the world is changeable and will deceive you; all your comforts are mixed with discomforts; the body carrieth about with it calamities enough of its own to weary it: What daily pains must it be at for the sustentation of its self in its present state; and yet what grief and sorrow must it undergo? Every member hath either its disease, or a disposition thereto: What abundance of passages can pain and sickness find ⟨p. 261⟩to enter at; and how many rooms that are ready to receive them! As every member hath its use, so every one is capable of sorrow; and the sorrow of one is at least as much communicated to the whole, as the usefulness is: The pain of the simplest member, even of a tooth can make the whole body a weary of it self. What is the daily condition of our flesh, but weakness and suffering with care and labour to prevent much worse, which yet we know cannot long be avoided: The sorrow of many a mans life hath made him wish he had never been born: and why then should he not wish as much to die, which doth ten thousand fold more for him if he be a Christian, than to be unborn would have done. Not a Relation so comfortable but hath its discomforts: Not a friend so suitable, but hath some discordancy: nor any so amiable and sweet, but hath somewhat loathsome, troublesome, and bitter. Not a place so pleasant and commodious, but hath its unfitness & discommodities: Not a Society so good and regular, but hath its corruptions and irregularities.