§ 4. Another sort are formal professors, who will be brought to any outward duty, but to the inward work of religion they will never be persuaded. They will preach, or hear, or read, or talk of heaven, or pray in their families, and take part with the persons or causes that are good, and desire to be esteemed among the godly; but you can never bring them to the more spiritual duties; as to be constant and fervent in secret prayer and meditation; conscientious in self-examination; heavenly minded; and to watch over their hearts, words, and ways; to mortify the flesh, and not make provision to fulfil its lusts; to love and heartily forgive an enemy, and prefer their brethren before themselves; to lay all they have, or do, at the feet of Christ, and prize his service and favor before all; to prepare to die, and willingly leave all to go to Christ. Hypocrites will never be persuaded to any of these. If an hypocrite entertains the gospel with joy; it is only in the surface of his soul, he never gives the seed any depth of earth: It changes his opinion, but never melts and new moulds his heart, nor sets up Christ there in full power and authority. As his religion lies most in opinion, so does his chief business and conversation. He is usually an ignorant, bold, conceited dealer in controversies, rather than an humble embracer of known truth, with love and obedience. By his slighting the judgments and persons of others, and seldom talking with seriousness and humility of the great things of Christ, he shews his religion dwells in the brain, and not in his heart. The _wind of temptation carries him away_ as a feather, because his heart is not established with Christ and grace. He never in private conversation humbly bewails his soul's imperfections, or tenderly acknowledges his unkindnesses to Christ; but gathers his greatest comforts from his being of such a judgment or party. The like may be said of the worldly hypocrite, who choaks the gospel with the thorns of worldly cares and desires. He is convinced, that he must be religious, or he cannot be saved; and therefore he reads, and hears, and prays, and forsakes his former company and courses; but he resolves to keep his hold of present things. His judgment may say, God is the chief good; but his heart and affections never said so. The world hath more of his affections than God, and therefore is his god. Though he does not run after opinions and novelties, like the former, yet he will be of that opinion which will best serve his worldly advantage. And as one whose spirits are enfeebled by some pestilential disease; so this man's spirits being possessed by the plague of a worldly disposition, how feeble is he in secret prayer! How superficial in examination and meditation! How poor in heart watchings! How nothing at all in loving and walking with God, rejoicing in him, or desiring him! So that both these, and many other sorts of hypocrites, though they will go with you in the easy outside of religion, yet will never be at the pains of inward and spiritual duties.
§ 5. And even the godly themselves are too lazy seekers of their everlasting rest. Alas! what a disproportion is there between our light and heat? our profession and prosecution? Who makes that haste, as if it were for heaven? How still we stand? How idly we work? How we talk, and jest, and trifle away our time? How deceitfully we perform the work of God? How we hear, as if we heard not; and pray, as if we prayed not; and examine, and meditate, and reprove sin, as if we did it not; and enjoy Christ, as if we enjoyed him not; as if we had learned to use the things of heaven, as the apostle teacheth us to _use the things of the world_? What a frozen stupidity hath benumbed us! We are dying, and we know it, and yet we stir not! we are at the door of eternal happiness, or misery, and yet we perceive it not; death knocks, and we hear it not; God and Christ call and cry to us "_To-day, if ye will hear my voice, harden not your hearts; work, while it is day, for the night cometh when none can work_. Now ply your business, labor for your lives, lay out all your strength and time; now or never;" and yet we stir no more than if we were half asleep. What haste doth death and judgment make? How fast do they come on? They are almost at us, and yet what little haste we make? Lord, what a senseless, earthly, hellish thing is a hard heart! Where is the man that is in earnest a Christian? Methinks men every where make but a trifle of their eternal state. They look after it but a little by the bye; they do not make it the business of their lives. If I were not sick myself of the same disease, with what tears should I mix this ink? With what groans should I express these complaints? And with what heart grief should I mourn over this universal deadness?