Note 1 — ISAIAH. (continued 3)

Many sinners who seem so jocund in our eyes have not such merry lives as you think. A book may be fairly bound and gilded, yet have but sad stories writ within it. Sinners will not tell us all the secret rebukes that conscience gives them. If you will judge of Herod by the jollity of his feast, you may think he wanted no joy; but at another time we see that John’s ghost walked in his conscience. And so doth the Word haunt many, who appear to us to lay nothing to heart. In the midst of their laughter their heart is sad; you see the lightning in their face, but hear not the thunder that rumbles in their conscience.—Gurnall, 1617–1679.

Suppose a man were in prison, committed for some great offence, and condemned to die under the displeasure of his prince or state, and his servant should come to him, saying, “Sir, be of good comfort; your wife is well at home; you have very sweet children, an excellent crop of corn; your neighbours love you dearly; your sheep and cattle thrive, and all your houses are in good repair.” Would he not answer that servant, “What is all this, so long as I am condemned to die”? Thus is it with every wicked man. He is under the displeasure of the great God, a condemned man, and God is angry with him every day; and if his heart were open to be sensible of it, he would say, “You tell me of my friends, and goods, and name, and trade; but what is all this, so long as I am a condemned person, and God is angry with me every day I rise?”—Bridge, 1600–1670.

Who would think, now, that sees how quietly the multitude of the ungodly live, that they must very shortly lie roaring in everlasting flames? They lie down, and rise, and sleep so quietly; they eat and drink as quietly; they go about their work as cheerfully; they talk as pleasantly, as if nothing ailed them, or as if they were as far out of danger as an obedient believer. Like a man that hath the falling sickness, you would little think, while he is labouring as strongly and talking as heartily as another man, how he will presently fall down, lie gasping and foaming, and beating his breast in torment! so it is with these men. They are as free from the fears of hell as others, as free from any vexing sorrows, not so much as troubled with any cares of the state of their souls, nor with any sad and serious thoughts of what shall become of them in another world; yes, and for the most part, they have less doubts and disquiet of mind, than those who shall be saved. Oh, happy men, if they could be always thus; and if this peace would prove a lasting peace! But, alas, there is the misery! it will not. They are now in their own element, as the fish in the water; but little knows that silly creature when he is most fearlessly and delightfully swallowing down the bait, how suddenly he shall be snatched out, and lie dead upon the bank; and as little think these careless sinners what a change is near. The sheep or ox is driven quietly to the slaughter, because he knows not whither he goes; if he knew it were to his death, you could not drive him so easily. How contented is the swine when the butcher’s knife is shaving his throat, little thinking that it is to prepare for his death! Why, it is even so with these sensual, careless men; they fear the mischief least, when it is nearest to them, because they see it not!—Baxter, 1615–1691.