The works of George Swinnock, M.A

Now Reader, It is Religion that is the comfort of thy life, by bringing thee to him who is the life of all thy comforts. Other things can never su•e, and so can never satisfy and therefore can never truly refresh or rejoice the soul of man; The body may sooner be fed and preserved with Air and Wind, as the soul filled with the whole world. They who swim down, with a full stream of outward good things, who have waters of a full cup wrung out to them, and have more then heart can wish, though they be Masters of hidden and bottomless mines, as the Spanish Ambassador boasted of his Sovereigns treasures in the Indies; though they have thousands and millions of heads bare, and knees bowing to them, and are mounted to the loftiest pinnacle of honour, and fame, and renown; though their garments are of finest silk, scented with the sweetest perfumes, embroidered by the most skilful Artist, and enamelled with the richest jewels, though their food be the most choice and luscious delicates, the most mellifluous Nectar, that earth, air, and water can afford, and though their bodies be in the most perfect state of health, and thereby enabled to extract the quintessence of all this, and so relish it in the highest degree, yet all this is not able to give ⟨image 8⟩them the least dram of true delight, the smallest crumb of true comfort. In the midst of their sufficiency (such Monarchs) are in straights; They may possess much, but enjoy nothing; Their faces sometimes are featured with laughter, when at the same time their souls are in little ease; In the midst of mirth their hearts are sorrowful, and the end of that mirth is heaviness. As some Plumbs that are sweet and luscious in the outward part, but have bitter kernels; so the most rich and honourable sinners, in the midst of their mirth, and giggling, and sports, have inward gripes, which like Leaven, soureth the whole lump of their enjoyments. Haman, though exalted to the highest seat next the Throne in the Persian Court, and had the command of him who commanded one hundred and twenty seven Provinces, yet had an aching heart, and a worm gnawing his inwards, that he crieth out, All this avails me nothing, &c.

Now Reader, It is Religion that is the comfort of thy life, by bringing thee to him who is the life of all thy comforts. Other things can never su•e, and so can never satisfie and therefore can never truly refresh or rejoyce the soul of man; The body may sooner be fed and preserved with Air and Wind, as the soul filled with the whole world. They who swim down, with a full stream of outward good things, who have waters of a full cup wrung out to them, and have more then heart can wish, though they be Masters of hidden and bottomless mines, as the Spanish Ambassadour boasted of his Soveraigns treasures in the Indies; though they have thousands and millions of heads bare, and knees bowing to them, and are mounted to the loftiest pinacle of honour, and fame, and renown; though their garments are of finest silk, sented with the sweetest perfumes, embroydered by the most skilful Artist, and enamelled with the richest jewels, though their food be the most choice and luscious delicates, the most mellifluous Nectar, that earth, air, and water can afford, and though their bodies be in the most perfect state of health, and thereby enabled to extract the quintessence of all this, and so rellish it in the highest degree, yet all this is not able to give