The works of George Swinnock, M.A

His former prosperity, like Oil, hath suppled his body, and makes him more sensible of his present pain. And his immoderate love to those fleshly delights, doth abundantly greaten his grief, and increase his loss. Now the man is thrown, whether he will or no, upon his sick bed, that must be his death bed; In this his extremity, his Companions, and Friends, and Wife, and Children, and Honour, and Places, and Preferments, and Silver, and Gold, and Houses, and Lands, and costly attire, and dainty fare, are all dry things, and unsavoury to him; no creature can afford him the least comfort. If he look into his Chamber, his Wife is weeping and wringing her hands, his Children are sighing, his friends are lamenting and wailing, but all this doth increase, not mitigate his vexation and misery. If he look into his Conscience, he finds that taking courage, and telling him to his face, that though formerly he would not suffer it to speak, yet now it must tell him the truth, that death, and hell, and wrath, are the wages of his ungodly works. It will bring to his mind, the time he hath mis-spent, the talents that he hath mis-improved, the day of grace that he hath despised, the great salvation that he hath neglected; his secret, and private, and public sins, the sins of his Childhood, of his youth, of his riper age; those sins which he had forgotten, and thought should never ⟨p. 668⟩have been remembered, are all set in order before his eyes; His heart which was before harder then the nether Millstone, is now pierced, though not with an evangelical contrition, yet with legal terrors and torments. His sickness will allow no rest to his body, and his sins will afford no ease to his soul. In the evening he crieth, Would God it were morning; in the morning, Would God it were evening, because of the anguish of his spirit; His bones are filled with a painful disease, and his body with unquietness. The Arrows of the Almighty are within him, the poison thereof drinks up his spirit, and the terrors of God do set themselves in array against him.

His former prosperity, like Oyl, hath suppled his body, and makes him more sensible of his present pain. And his immoderate love to those fleshly delights, doth abundantly greaten his grief, and increase his loss. Now the man is thrown, whether he will or no, upon his sick bed, that must be his death bed; In this his extremity, his Companions, and Friends, and Wife, and Children, and Honour, and Places, and Preferments, and Silver, and Gold, and Houses, and Lands, and costly attire, and dainty fare, are all dry things, and unsavoury to him; no creature can afford him the least comfort. If he look into his Chamber, his Wife is weeping and wringing her hands, his Children are sighing, his friends are lamenting and wailing, but all this doth increase, not mitigate his vexation and misery. If he look into his Conscience, he finds that taking courage, and telling him to his face, that though formerly he would not suffer it to speak, yet now it must tell him the truth, that death, and hell, and wrath, are the wages of his ungodly works. It will bring to his mind, the time he hath mis-spent, the talents that he hath mis-improved, the day of grace that he hath despised, the great salvation that he hath neglected; his secret, and private, and publick sins, the sins of his Childhood, of his youth, of his riper age; those sins which he had forgotten, and thought should never