Guilt is the source of sorrow; 'tis the fiend- The avenging fiend-that follows us behind With whips and stings; the blest know none of this,
But rest in everlasting peace of mind,
Like brain-sick phrensy, in its feverish mood, Fills the light air with visionary terror, And shapeless forms of fear.
Such evil sin hath wrought; and such a flame
And find the height of all their heaven is Kindled in heaven, that it burns down to
And in the furious inquest that it makes On God's behalf, lays waste his fairest works. COWPER.
But many a crime, deemed innocent on earth, Is registered in heaven, and these, no doubt, Have each their record, with a curse annexed. COWPER.
How like a widow in her weeds, the night, Amid her glimmering tapers, silent sits! How sorrowful, how desolate, she weeps
How guilt, once harbored in the conscious Perpetual dews, and saddens nature's scene! A scene more sad sin makes the darkened soul,
Intimidates the brave, degrades the great!
God hath yoked to guilt Her pale tormentor-misery.
He swears, but he is sick at heart; He laughs, but he turns deadly pale; His restless eye and sudden start, These tell the dreadful tale That will be told; it needs no words from thee, Thou self-sold slave to guilt and misery!
What havoc hast thou made, foul monster, Sin! Greatest and first of ills! The fruitful parent Of woes of all dimensions! But for thee Sorrow had never been!
Sin, like a bee, into thy hive may bring A little honey, but expect the sting.
O how unsufferable is the weight Of sin! how miserable is their state, The silence of whose secret sin conceals The smart, till justice to revenge appeals! QUARLES.
All comfort kills, nor leaves one spark alive. YOUNG.
Who loves to sin, in hell his portion's given; Who dies to sin, shall, after, live in heaven. QUARLES.
For he that but conceives a crime in thought, Contracts the danger of an actual fault; Then what must he expect, that still proceeds To finish sin, and work up thoughts in deeds? DRYDEN.
To threats the stubborn sinner oft is hard, Wrapped in his crimes, against the storm pre- pared;
But when the milder beams of mercy play, He melts, and throws his cumbrous cloak away. DRYDEN.
Sin is the living worm, the lasting fire; Hell soon would lose its heat, could sin expire. Better sinless in hell, than to be where Heaven is, and to be found a sinner there. One sinless with infernals might do well, But sin would make of heaven a very hell. Look to thyself then, keep it out of door, Lest it get in and never leave thee more. BUNYAN.
[See also THE FALL-TEMPTATION.]
Fond man, that looks on earth for happiness, And here long seeks what here is never found! For all our good we hold from Heaven by lease, With many forfeits and conditions bound; Nor can we pay the fine, and rentage due; Though now but writ, and sealed, and given anew,
Habits are soon assumed, but when we strive Yet daily we it break, then daily must renew. To strip them off 'tis being flayed alive.
Know then this truth (enough for man to know), Virtue alone is happiness below.
He is the happy man, whose life e'en now Shows somewhat of that happier life to come; Who, doomed to an obscure, but tranquil state, Is pleased with it, and were he free to choose, Would make his fate his choice whom peace, the fruit
Of virtue, and whom virtue, fruit of faith, Prepare for happiness; bespeak him one Content indeed to sojourn while he must Below the skies, but having there his home. COWPER.
Return, my senses, range no more abroad, He only finds his bliss who seeks for God. PARNELL.
If solid happiness we prize, Within our breast this jewel lies, And they are fools who roam.
The weak have remedies, the wise have joys; Superior wisdom is superior bliss. YOUNG.
Should take from men the glorious names they And yet the common haunt of anger, pride,
By constant virtues and a life of toil.
Hatred, revenge, and passions foul with lust; Allied to Heaven, yet parleying oft with Hell. POLLOK.
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