X. *We reckon a man sufficiently _mad_ that fancies himself a _king_, and governing his subjects, at the same time that he is tied on a bed of _straw_: now a _Christian_ repeats every day, _I believe the forgiveness of sin, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting_; he thanks God _for the redemption of Jesus Christ, for the means of grace, and for the hope of glory_. Yet at the same time, in this state of _greatness_, he fancies himself in a _thousand wants and miseries_: he cries and labours, and toils for a happiness, that has no existence but in his _own imagination_; he fancies himself a _being_ that is to be made happy with sauces and ragous, with _painted cloaths_ and _shining diamonds_, he is grieved and fretted like a child at the loss of a _feather_; and must be diverted, as they are, with _shows_ and _plays_, and imaginary scenes of rant and nonsense. Now is not such a one _mad_? Does he not know as little of his _state_, as the man in straw who fancies himself a king? But for a Christian, in times of dulness or vexation, to seek relief in foolish amusements, in the loose, wild discourses of _plays_, when he should _acquaint himself with_ God, _and be at peace_, is a degree of madness that exceeds all others; it is acting as contrary to the nature of things, as if a man that had lost the use of his _limbs_, should chuse to comfort his lameness with _painted shoes_, when he might have the use of his feet restored. For the consolations of religion relieve uneasiness and trouble, as a _lame_ man is relieved when his _limbs_ are restored; they conquer grief, not by cheating and deluding the weakness of our minds, but as the resurrection conquers death, by restoring us to a new and glorious life.
XI. From these reflections I hope it sufficiently appears, that the reading vain and impertinent books is no matter of indifferency; but that it is justly to be reckoned amongst our _greatest corruptions_; that it is as unlawful as _malice_ and _evil speaking_; and is no more to be allowed in any part of our life.
Reading, when it is an exercise of the mind, upon wise and pious subjects, is, next to _prayer_, the best improvement of our hearts; it enlightens our minds, collects our thoughts, calms and allays our passions, and begets in us wise and pious resolutions; it is a labour that does so much good to our minds, that it ought never to be employed amiss; it enters so far into our souls that it cannot have a little effect upon us. Reading and meditation is that to our souls, which food and nourishment is to our bodies; so that we cannot do ourselves either a _little_ good, or _little_ harm, by the books that we read.
XII. But perhaps you think it is a _dull task_ to read only religious and moral books: but when God is your happiness; when you are not afraid of the joys of eternity, you will think it a dull task to read any other books. Don’t fancy therefore that your heart is right, tho’ you had rather read books upon other subjects; for it is there that you are to charge your _dullness_: religion has no hold of you; the things of eternity are not the concerns of your mind; it is _dull_ and _tiresome_ to you to be _wise_ and _pious_; and that makes it a dull task to read only books that treat upon such subjects. When it is the care of your soul to be humble, holy, pious, and heavenly minded; when you know any thing of the guilt and misery of sin, or feel a real desire of salvation, you will find religious books to be the greatest feast and joy of your mind.
XIII. You perhaps will say that you have so much spare time for reading, that you think you need not employ it at all in reading good books. It may be so; you may have also more time than you need devote to offices of _charity_; but will you thence conclude, that you may then do things _contrary_ to charity, and indulge yourself in _spight_ and _mischief_?
*If you have every day more time than you can employ in reading, meditation and prayer; if this time hangs upon your hands, and cannot be turned to any advantage; let me desire you to go to _sleep_ or _pick straws_; for it is much better to do this, than to have recourse to corrupt and impertinent books. Time lost in _sleep_, or in _picking straws_, is better lost than in such exercises of the mind. Consider farther, that _idle_ and _spare time_ calls for the greatest care and watchfulness; so that to have recourse then to evil and impertinent books, is like inviting the devil because you are alone. If you could read ill books when you are in haste, or in a hurry of other matters, it would do you much less harm than to read them because your time hangs upon your hands. That very season which you take to be an excuse for such _reading_, is the strongest argument against it, because evil thoughts and vain subjects have twice the effect, and make double impressions when they are admitted at times of leisure and idleness.