If I use the world and worldly enjoyments, as the generality of people do, and in all ages have done, why should I think that I am amongst _those few_, who are walking in the _narrow way_ to heaven?
*And yet, if the way is _narrow_, if none can walk in it but those that _strive_, is it not as necessary for me to consider, whether the _way_ I am in be narrow _enough_, or the _labour_ I take to be a _sufficient_ striving, as to consider whether I sufficiently observe the second or third commandment?
6. The measure of our love to God seems in justice to be the measure of our love of every virtue. We are to love and practise it _with all our heart, with all our soul, with all our mind, and with all our strength_. And when we cease to live with this regard to virtue, we live below our nature, and instead of being able to plead our _infirmities_, we stand chargeable with wilful _negligence_.
It is for this reason that we are exhorted to work out our salvation with _fear_ and _trembling_; because unless our _heart_ and _passions_ are eagerly bent upon the work of our salvation, unless _holy fears_ animate our endeavours, and keep our consciences tender about every part of our duty, constantly examining how we live, and how fit we are to die, we shall in all probability sit down in such a course of life, as will never carry us to the rewards of heaven.
And he that considers, that a just God can only make such allowances as are suitable to his justice, that our works are all to be examined by fire, will find _fear_ and _trembling_ are proper tempers for those that are drawing near to so great a trial.
Now this is not intended to possess people’s minds with a scrupulous anxiety; but to fill them with a just fear of living in the neglect of such virtues as they will want at the day of judgment.
It is only desiring them to be so apprehensive of their state, so earnest after higher degrees of piety, and so fearful of falling short of happiness, as the great apostle St. _Paul_ was, when he thus wrote to the _Philippians_.
_Not as though I had already attained, either were already perfect;――but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of |God| in Christ Jesus._ And then he adds, _Let us therefore, as many as are perfect, be thus minded_.
But if the apostle thought it necessary for those who were in his state of perfection to be _thus minded_; thus labouring, pressing, and aspiring after some degrees of holiness, to which they were not then arrived; surely it is much more necessary for us, _to be thus minded_; thus earnest and striving after such degrees of a holy life, as we have not yet attained.
7. The best way for any one to know how much he ought to aspire after holiness, is to ask himself, how much he thinks will make him easy at the hour of death.
Now any man that dares put this question to himself, will be forced to answer, that at death, every one will wish, he had been as perfect as human nature can be.
Is not this sufficient to put us, not only upon wishing, but labouring after all that perfection which we shall then lament the want of? Is it not excessive folly to be content with such a course of piety as we already know cannot content us, at a time when we shall so want it, as to have nothing else to comfort us? How can we carry a severer condemnation against ourselves, than to believe, that at the hour of death, we shall want the virtues of the _saints_, and wish that we had been among the first servants of God, and yet take no methods of arriving at their height of piety, whilst we are alive?
8. Though this is an _absurdity_ that we can pass over, whilst the health of our bodies, the passions of our minds, the noise, and hurry, and pleasures, and business of the world, lead us on with eyes that see not; yet at death, it will appear before us in a dreadful magnitude: it will haunt us like a dismal ghost; and our conscience will never let us take our eyes from it.
We see in worldly matters, what a torment self-condemnation is; and how hardly a man is able to forgive himself, when he has brought himself into any calamity or disgrace, purely by his own folly. The affliction is made doubly tormenting; if he is forced to charge it all upon himself, as his own act and deed, against the reason of things, and contrary to the advice of his friends.
Now by this we may in some degree guess, how terrible that self-condemnation will be, when a man shall find himself in the misery of death, under the severity of a self-condemning conscience; charging all his distress upon his own folly and madness, against the sense and reason of his own mind, against all the doctrines and precepts of religion, and contrary to all the instructions, calls, and warnings both of God and man.