Here also consider what God is for your future good, as well as what he hath been hitherto; how all-sufficient, how powerful, merciful, and good. But of this more anon.
_Direct._ VII. Improve the vanity and vexation of the creature, and all thy disappointments, and injuries, and afflictions, to the promoting of thy love to God.--And this by a double advantage: First, by observing that there is nothing meet to divert thy love, or rob God of it; unless thou wilt love thy trouble and distress! Secondly, that thy love to God is the comfort by which thou must be supported under the injuries and troubles which thou meetest with in the world; and therefore to neglect it, is but to give up thyself to misery.--Is it for nothing, O my soul, that God hath turned loose the world against thee? that devils rage against thee; and wicked men do reproach and slander thee, and seek thy ruin; and friends prove insufficient, and as broken reeds? It had been as easy to God, to have prospered thee in the world, and suited all things to thy own desires, and have strewed thy way with the flowers of worldly comforts and delights; but he knew thy proneness to undo thyself by carnal loves, and how easily thy heart is enticed from thy God; and therefore he hath wisely and mercifully ordered it, that thy temptations shall not be too strong, and no creature shall appear to thee in an over amiable, tempting dress. Therefore he hath suffered them to become thy enemies: and wilt thou love an enemy better than thy God? what! an envious and malicious world; a world of cares, and griefs, and pains; a weary, restless, empty world? How deep and piercing are its injuries! How superficial and deceitful is its friendship! How serious are its sorrows! What toyish shows and dreams are its delights! How constant are its cares and labours! How seldom and short are its flattering smiles! Its comforts are disgraced by the certain expectation of succeeding sorrows: its sorrows are heightened by the expectations of more: in the midst of its flatteries, I hear something within me saying, Thou must die: this is but the way to rottenness and dust: I see a winding-sheet and a grave still before me: I foresee how I must lie in pains and groans, and then become a loathsome corpse. And is this a world to be more delighted in than God? What have I left me for my support and solace, in the midst of all this vanity and vexation, but to look to him that is the all-sufficient, sure, never-failing good? I must love him, or I have nothing to love but enmity or deceit. And is this the worst of God's design, in permitting and causing my pains and disappointments here? It is but to drive my foolish heart unto himself, that I may have the solid delights and happiness of his love. O then let his blessed will be done! Come home, my soul, my wandering, tired, grieved soul! Love, where thy love shall not be lost: love Him that will not reject thee, nor deceive thee; nor requite thee as the world doth, with injuries and abuse: despair not of entertainment, though the world deny it thee. The peaceable region is above. In the world thou must have trouble, that in Christ thou mayst have peace. Retire to the harbour, if thou wouldst be free from storms. God will receive thee, when the world doth cast thee off, if thou heartily cast off the world for him.--Oh what a solace is it to the soul, to be driven clearly from the world to God, and there to be exercised in that sacred love, which will accompany us to the world of love!