XIII. Now stand still awhile, and ask yourself, whether you really believe this to be true, that the more perfect we are here, the more happy we shall be hereafter? If you do not believe this, you know nothing of God and religion. And if you do believe it, is it possible to be _awake_ and not aspiring after Christian perfection? What can you think of, what can the world shew you, that can make you any amends for the loss of _any degree_ of virtue? Can any way of life make it reasonable for you to die _less perfect_ than you might have done? But if you would now devote yourself to God, perhaps you must part with some friends; you must displease some relations, you must refrain from some pleasures, you must alter your life; nay, perhaps you must do more than this, you must expose yourself to the hatred of your friends, to the jest and ridicule of _wits_, and to the scorn and derision of worldly men. But had you not better do and suffer all this, than die _less perfect_, less prepared for eternal glory? And indeed the suffering all this is suffering nothing. For why should it signify any thing to you, what _fools_ and _madmen_ think of you? And surely it can be no wrong or rash judgment to think those both fools and mad, who condemn what God approves, and like that which God condemns: but if you think this too much to be done, to obtain eternal glory, think on the other hand, what can be gained instead of it.
*Fancy yourself living in all the ease and pleasure that the world can give you, esteemed by your friends, undisturbed by your enemies, and gratifying all your _natural tempers_. If you could _stand still_ in such a state, you might say that you had got _something_; but alas! every day that is _added_ to such a life, is the same thing as a day taken from it, and shews you that so much happiness is gone from you. For be as happy as you will, you must see it all sinking away from you; you must feel yourself _decline_; you must see that your time _shortens apace_; you must hear of _sudden deaths_; you must fear _sickness_; you must both dread and desire _old age_; you must fall into the hands of death; you must either die in the bitter sorrows of a deep repentance, or in sad gloomy despair, wishing for _mountains to fall upon you, and rocks to cover you_. And is this a happiness to be chosen? Is this all that you can gain by neglecting God, by following your own desires, and not labouring after Christian perfection? Is it worth your while to separate yourself from God, to lose your share in the realms of light, to be _thus happy_; or, I may better say, to be thus miserable even in this life? You may be so blind and foolish, as not to think of these things; but it is impossible to think of them, without labouring after _Christian perfection_.
XIV. It may be, you are too young, too happy, or too busy to be affected with these reflections; but let me tell you, that _all_ will be over before you are aware; your _day_ will be spent, and leave you to such a _night_, as that which surprized the _foolish virgins_. _And at midnight there was a cry made, behold the bridegroom cometh, go ye out and meet him¹._
¹ Matt. xxv. 6.
*The _last hour_ will soon be with you, when you will have nothing to look for, but your _reward_ in another life; when you will stand with nothing but _eternity_ before you, and must begin to be something that will be your state for ever. I can no more _reach_ heaven with my hands, than I can describe the sentiments that you then will have; you will then feel motions of heart that you never felt before; all your thoughts and reflections will pierce your soul in a manner, that you never before experienced; and you will feel the immortality of your nature, by the depth and piercing vigour of your thoughts. You will then know what it is to die; you will then know that you never knew it before, that you never thought worthily of it; but that dying thoughts are as _new_ and _amazing_ as that state which follows them.
Let me therefore exhort you to come prepared to this time of trial; to look out for comfort, whilst the day is before you; to treasure up such a _fund_ of good and pious works, as may make you able to bear that state, which cannot be borne without them. Could I any way make you apprehend, how dying men feel the want of a pious life; how they lament time lost, health and strength squandered away in folly; how they look at eternity, and what they think of the rewards of another life, you would soon find yourself one of those, who desire to live in the highest state of piety and perfection, that by this means you may grow old in peace, and die in full hope of eternal glory.