§ 21. "Is the sinning, afflicted, persecuted church of Christ, so much more excellent than any particular gracious soul? What then will the church be, when it is fully gathered and glorified; when it is ascended from the valley of tears to mount Sion; when it shall sin and suffer no more! The glory of the old Jerusalem will be darkness and deformity to the glory of the _new_. What cause shall we have then to shout for joy, when we shall see how glorious the heavenly temple is, and remember the meanness of the church on earth?"
[N. B. _If this Chapter seems too long to be read at once, it may be properly divided here._]
§ 22. "But alas! what a loss am I at in the midst of my contemplations? I thought my heart had all the while attended, but I see it doth not. What life is there in empty thoughts and words, without affections? Neither God, nor I, find pleasure in them. Where hast thou been, unworthy heart, while I was opening to thee the everlasting treasures? Art thou not ashamed to complain so much of an uncomfortable life, and to murmur at God for filling thee with sorrows; when he in vain offers thee the delights of angels? Hadst thou now but followed me close, it would have made thee revive and leap for joy, and forget thy pains and sorrows. Did I think my heart had been so backward to rejoice?
§ 23. "Lord, thou hast reserved my perfect joys for heaven: therefore, help me to desire till I may possess, and let me long when I cannot, as I would rejoice. O my soul, thou knowest to thy sorrow, that thou art not yet at thy rest. When shall I arrive at that safe and quiet harbor, where there are none of these storms, waves, and dangers; when I shall never more have a weary restless night or day! Then my life will not be such a mixture of hope and fear, of joy and sorrow; nor shall flesh and spirit be combatting within me; nor faith and unbelief, humility and pride, maintain a continual conflict. O when shall I be past these soul-tormenting fears, and cares, and griefs? When shall I be out of this soul-contradicting, ensnaring, deceitful flesh; this corruptible body, this vain, vexatious world! Alas, that I must stand and see the church and cause of Christ tossed about in contention, and made subservient to private interests, or deluded fancies! There is none of this disorder in the heavenly Jerusalem; there I shall find an harmonious consent of perfected spirits, in obeying and praising their everlasting King. O how much better to be a _door-keeper_ there, than the commander of this tumultuous world? Why am I no more weary of this weariness? Why do I so forget my resting place? Up then, O my soul, in thy most raised and fervent desires! Stay not till this flesh can desire with thee; expect not that sense should apprehend thy blessed object, and tell thee when and what to desire. Doth not the dulness of thy desires after rest, accuse thee of most detestable ingratitude and folly? Must thy Lord procure thee a rest at so dear a rate, and dost thou no more value it? Must he go before to prepare so glorious a mansion for such a wretch, and art thou loth to go and possess it? Shall the Lord of Glory be desirous of thy company, and thou not desirous of his? Must earth become a very hell to thee, before thou art willing to be with God? Behold the most lovely creature, or the most desirable state, and tell me, where wouldst thou be, if not with God? Poverty is a burden; riches a snare; sickness unpleasing; health unsafe; the frowning world _bruises thy heel_; the smiling world _stings_ thee to the heart; so much as the world is loved and delighted in, it hurts and endangers the lover; and, if it may not be loved, why should it be desired? If thou art applauded, it proves the most contagious breath; if thou art vilified, or unkindly used, methinks this should not entice thy love. If thy successful labors, and thy godly friends, seem better to thee than a life with God, it is time for God to take them from thee. If thy studies have been sweet, have they not also been bitter? And at best, what are they to the everlasting views of the God of truth? Thy friends here have been thy delight; and have they not also been thy vexation and grief? They are gracious, and are they not also sinful? They are kind, and are they not soon displeased? They are humble, but, alas, how proud also? Their graces are sweet, and their gifts helpful; but are not their corruptions bitter, and their imperfections hurtful? And art thou so loth to go from them to thy God?