16. O who shall warn this generation of vipers, to flee from the wrath to come! Not thosewho lie at their gate, or cringe at their feet, desiring to be fed with the crumbs that fall from their tables. Not those who court their favour, or fear their frown; none of those who mind earthly things. But if there be a Christian upon earth, if there be a man who hath overcome the world, who desires nothing but God, and fears none but him that is able to destroy both body and soul in hell: thou, O man of God, speak and spare not; lift up thy voice like a trumpet. Cry aloud and shew these honourable sinners the desperate condition wherein they stand. It may be, one in a thousand may have ears to hear, may arise and shake himself from the dust; may break loose from these chains that bind him to the earth, and at length lay up treasures in heaven.
17. And if it should be, that one of these, by the mighty power of God, awoke and asked, What must I do to be saved? The answer, according to the oracles of God, is clear, full and express. God doth not say to thee, Sell all that thou hast. Indeed he who seeth the hearts of men, saw it needful to enjoin this in one peculiar case, that of the young, rich ruler. But he never laid it down for a general rule, to all rich men, in all succeeding generations. His general direction is, first, *Be not high-minded. God seeth not as man seeth. He esteems thee not for thy riches, for thy grandeur or equipage, for any qualification or accomplishment, which is directlyor indirectly owing to thy wealth, which can be bought, or procured thereby. All these are with him as dung and dross: let them be so with thee also. Beware thou think not thyself to be one jot wiser, or better for all these things. Weigh thyself in another balance: estimate thyself only by the measure of faith and love which God hath given thee. If thou hast more of the knowledge and love of God than he, thou art on this account and no other, wiser and better, more valuable and honourable than him, who is with the dogs of thy flock. But if thou hast not this treasure, thou art more foolish, more vile, more truly contemptible, I will not say, than the lowest servant under thy roof, but than the beggar laid at thy gate, full of sores.
18. *Secondly, Trust not in uncertain riches. Trust not in them for help: and trust not in them for happiness.
First, Trust not in them for help. Thou art miserably mistaken, if thou lookest for this in gold or silver. These are no more able to set thee above the world, than to set thee above the devil. Know that both the world and the prince of this world laugh at all such preparations against them. These will little avail in the day of trouble: even if they remain in the trying hour. But it is not certain, that they will: for how oft do they make themselves wings and fly away? But if not, what support will they afford, even in the ordinary troubles of life?The desire of thy eyes, the wife of thy youth, thy son, thine only son, or the friend which was as thy own soul, is taken away at a stroke. Will thy riches re-animate the breathless clay, or call back its late inhabitant?—Will they secure thee from sickness, diseases, pain? Do these visit the poor only? Nay; he that feeds thy flocks or tills thy ground, has less sickness and pain than thou. He is more rarely visited by these unwelcome guests: and if they come there at all, they are more easily driven away from the little cot, than from the cloud-topt palaces. And during the time that thy body is chastened with pain, or consumes away with pining sickness, how do thy treasures help thee? Let the poor Heathen answer.
Ut lippum pictæ tabulæ, fomenta podagrum,
Auriculas citharæ collecta forde dolentes.
19. *But there is at hand a greater trouble than all these. Thou art to die. Thou art to sink into dust; to return to the ground from which thou wast taken, to mix with common clay. Thy body is to go to the earth as it was, while thy spirit returns to God that gave it. And the time draws on: the years slide away with a swift tho’ silent pace. Perhaps your day is far spent: the noon of life is past, and the evening shadows begin to rest upon you. You feel in yourself sure-approaching decay. The springs oflife wear away apace. Now what help is there in your riches? Do they sweeten death? Do they endear that solemn hour? Quite the reverse. O death how bitter art thou, to a man that liveth at rest in his possessions? How unacceptable to him is that awful sentence, This night shall thy soul be required of thee!—Or will they prevent the unwelcome stroke, or protract the dreadful hour? Can they deliver your soul that it should not see death? Can they restore the years that are past? Can they add to your appointed time, a month, a day, an hour, a moment?—Or will the good things you have chosen for your portion here, follow you over the great gulf? Not so: naked came you into this world; naked must you return.
Linquenda tellus, & domus & placens
Uxor: nec harum quas seris arborum
Te præter invisam cupressum,