Part 87

6. I have now only to add a few prudential advices relating to the practice of a Christian life. Of which the first shall be that of the apostle, _To walk circumspectly_, that is warily and heedfully, with all possible care, caution and exactness. This is such walking as shews we are duly apprehensive of our condition: the danger of which must be allowed to be exceeding great, since besides our own corrupt nature, and the wickedness of the world that surrounds us, we have the prince of darkness for our profest enemy; _even our adversary the devil, who as a roaring lion walketh about, seeking whom he may devour_. He does not tarry ’till the prey comes in his way, but seeks after it, but walks about seeking who is fit to be made a prey of; whose idleness or whose business, whose temper or constitution, whose age or whose carelesness may give him any advantage. He begins with us very early, laying his siege against us in our very infancy. Then he tempts us with sensible objects, and easily increases our natural propension to them. For reason is then in a dead sleep, and sense altogether awake, being in its greatest perfection, by reason of the fineness of the blood and spirits, and the tenderness of the parts, which easily yielding to the impression of sensible objects, endear them more and more to us, and so confirm that _friendship with the world, which is enmity with_ God. This thoughtless age is succeeded by childhood and youth; and then indeed reason begins to awake; but so slowly, that we are all this time, as it were, between sleeping and waking; the weight still hangs upon our temples. Our passions are much too strong for our weak reason to govern, which accordingly our enemy makes his advantage of, and tempts us with the baits of sensuality, with those _youthful lusts_ which ’tis then hard to fly. This boisterous season also blows over, and is followed by manhood. And now indeed reason is stronger and passion cooler, and so the devil changes his former bait for that of pride and ambition, whereby himself fell, and wherewith he assaulted even the Son of God. Now he lifts us up to, and shews us the grandeur and glory of the world, and tries to persuade us what a happiness it would be, could we make a part of that glittering scene. Well, but neither will this last always; our sun soon begins to decline, and old age comes on, the winter of our year, or rather the evening of our short day. And now our reason grows heavy and sleepy again, and our passions also flag with it, hang their wings, and make our flight nearer the earth, as not being able to bear up in the higher regions. We are now no longer fit for our former entertainments, and having seen what little dependance there is on the world, having lost some of our friends, and proved the insincerity of others, this experience, together with the natural sinking of our spirits, makes us grow timorous, jealous and distrustful, and sollicitous to secure ourselves in this forlorn state, and so we stand fairly disposed for covetousness. And accordingly the devil now draws us into this snare, which reigns the more absolute over us, as having us almost entirely to itself, without competition from other vices. Thus our adversary is always intent upon our ruin, meeting us at every turn of our lives, and suiting his temptations to the several states and conditions of them. And therefore it highly concerns us to walk circumspectly, as knowing both the infinite worth of our souls, and the numberless hazards they are exposed to, from which (next to the grace of God) nothing but an extraordinary caution can secure them.