6. * Here ends his pleasing dream, his delusive rest, his false peace, his vain security. His joy now vanishes as a cloud: pleasures, once loved delight no more. They pall upon the taste; he loaths the nauseous sweet; he is weary to bear them. The shadows of happiness flee away, and sink into oblivion. So that he is stript of all, and wanders to and fro, seeking rest, but finding none.
7. The fumes of those opiates being now dispelled, he feels the anguish of a wounded spirit. He finds that sin let loose upon the soul (whether it be pride, anger, or evil desire, whether self-will, malice, envy, revenge, or any other) is perfect misery. He feels sorrow of heart for the blessings he has lost, and the curse which is come upon him; remorse for having thus destroyed himself, and despised his own mercies; fear, from a lively sense of the wrath of God, and of the consequences of his wrath; of the punishment which he has justly deserved, and which he sees hanging over his head; fear of death, as being to him the gate of hell, the entrance of death eternal; fear of the devil, the executioner of the wrath and righteous vengeance of God; fear of men, who if they were able to kill his body, would thereby plunge both body and soul into hell; fear, sometimes arising to such a height, that the poor, sinful, guilty soul, is terrified with every thing, with nothing, with shades, with a leaf shaken of the wind. Yea sometimes it may even border upon distraction, making a man _drunken, tho’ not with wine_, suspending the exercise of the memory, of the understanding, of all the natural faculties. Sometimes it may approach to the very brink of despair: so that he who trembles at the name of death, may yet be ready to plunge into it every moment, to _chuse strangling rather than life_. Well may such a man _roar_, like him of old, _for the very disquietness of_ his _heart_. Well may he cry out, _The spirit of a man may sustain his infirmities; but a wounded spirit who can bear_?
8. Now he truly desires to break loose from sin, and begins to struggle with it. But tho’ he strive with all his might, he cannot conquer; sin is mightier than he. He would fain escape; but he is so fast in prison, that he cannot get forth. He resolves against sin, but yet sins on: he sees the snare, and abhors, and runs into it. So much does his boasted reason avail! Only to inhance his guilt, and increase his misery. Such is the freedom of his will! Free only to evil; free to _drink in iniquity like water_; to wander farther and farther from the living God, and do more _despight to the Spirit of grace_!
9. The more he strives, wishes, labours to be free, the more does he feel his chains, the grievous chains of sin, wherewith Satan binds and _leads him captive at his will_: his servant he is, tho’ he repine ever so much; tho’ he rebel, he cannot prevail. He is still in bondage and fear, by reason of sin: generally, of some outward sin to which he is peculiarly disposed, either by nature, custom or outward circumstances; but always, of some inward sin, some evil temper or unholy affection. And the more he frets against it, the more it prevails; he may bite, but cannot break his chain. Thus he toils without end, repenting and sinning, and repenting and sinning again, till at length the poor sinful, helpless wretch is even at his wit’s end, and can barely groan, _O wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this death_?