On the damnation of the lost
My soul, consider what is the unhappiness of the lost, the eternally
damned. Look upon hell, as it were, upon a wide
rolling plain, a trackless and blasted waste, full of deep holes and sulphurous pits. Gaze down "on the land that is dark
and covered with mist of death", "the land of misery and darkness where the shadow of death and no order, but everlasting
horror dwelleth" (Job x, 20-21). Then, for sorry and hateful company thou hast the lowest and fiercest devils, fearful to
the sight: a dwelling place from which thou wouldst flee. There, for ever is the mind turned aside from God and filled with
hate of every good purpose. The damned are fixed in their lot amidst blackest despair, raging fire, and stench-filled flames.
Icy cold freezeth them there; and there is the "worm that dieth not", darkness so thick as to be felt, blind hatred of God,
and torrents of violent blasphemy against his name. There is the sound of gnashing of teeth, of crying, of sobbing, of wailing
and of sighing. Friendship here on earth in a merry
partnership of sin shall there turn to hate: their former friendship
increasing and deepening their torments.
If thou wilt think well on all these things thou wilt the more heartily
this world and all its vanities. Thou wilt ever keep thyself in a holy fear lest thou should offend God, and merit his foretold
chastisements. For, great fools are they, who for anything whatsoever, whether concerning mankind at large, or of things carnal,
earthly or temporal, put themselves in danger of falling under so heavy a disaster and punishment.
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