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

Spirit. Is it not thine more in thy Fathers hand, Than when it is laid out at sins command? And is that saved that's spent upon thy lust? Or which must be a prey to thieves or rust? And wouldst thou have thy riches in thy way, Where thou art passing on and canst not stay? And is that lost that's sent to Heaven before? Hadst thou not rather have thy friends and store, Where thou may dwell for ever, in the light Of that long glorious day that fears no night?

Spirit. Is it not thine more in thy Fathers hand, Than when it is laid out at sins command? And is that sav'd that's spent upon thy lust? Or which must be a prey to thieves or rust? And wouldst thou have thy riches in thy way, Where thou art passing on and canst not stay? And is that lost that's sent to Heav'n before? Hadst thou not rather have thy friends and store, Where thou may dwell for ever, in the light Of that long glorious day that fears no night?

Flesh. But who can willingly submit to Death, Which will bereave us of our life and breath; That lays our flesh to rot in loathsome graves, Where brains and eyes were, leaves but ugly caves?

Flesh. But who can willingly submit to Death, Which will bereave us of our life and breath; That laies our flesh to rot in loathsome graves, Where brains and eyes were, leaves but ugly caves?

Spirit. So nature breaks and casts away the shell, Where the now beauteous singing bird did dwell The secundine that once the infant clothed, After the birth, is cast away and loathed. Thus Roses drop their sweet leaves under-foot; But the Spring shows that life was in the root. Souls are the Roots of Bodies: Christ the Head Is Root of both, and will revive the dead. Our Sun still shineth when with us it's night: When he returns, we shall shine in his light. Souls that behold and praise God with the Just, Mourn not because their bodies are but dust. Graves are but beds where flesh till morning sleep's: Or Chests where God a while our garments keep's. Our folly thinks he spoils them in the keeping; Which causeth our excessive fears and Weeping: But God that doth our rising day foresee: Pity's not rotting flesh so much as we. The birth of Nature was deformed by sin: The birth of Grace did our repair begin: The birth of Glory at the Resurrection Finisheth all, and brings both to perfection. Why should not fruit when it is mellow fall? Why would we linger here when God doth call?