Page:TheParadiseOfTheChristianSoul.djvu/593

 things past  shall  be  accused  of vanity? For all  those  things have passed  away  like  a shadow, and  as  a ship  that  passes through the  waves; whereof, when it  is  gone  by,  the  trace cannot be  found. Oh, happy are they  who  remember  that they are  as  exiles  and  pilgrims on  the  earth,  or  rather that they  are  set  in  this  world as stewards  and  dispensers over the  goods  of  their  Lord, who will  come  at  an  hour they think  not,  to  take  an  account of  his  servants!

But wretched  are  they, alas! who, as  though  I were gone abroad,  and  were  to  return late,  live  riotously  on  my goods,  as  though  forgetful  of the  time  when  I shall  summon them  to  give  an  account of their  stewardship! Is it thus  that  men,  who  were created by  me  in  honour,  understand not,  but  are  compared to  senseless  beasts,  and made like  to  them? as though they were  to  die  both  alike, and as  though  man  had  nothing more  than  a beast; whereas, I have  created  them to my  own  image  and  likeness, and  redeemed  them  with my own  Blood  when  under sentence of  eternal  death,  that with me  they  might  become heirs of  heaven! How is  it, then, that,  like  blind  men, they run  upon  death,  and  perish for  ever,  though  they  are men bought  by  me  at  so  great a price, for  whose  sake  I came  that  they  may  have  life, and may  have  it  more  abundantly? Oh, how  few  there are who  seriously  consider this in  their  heart,  and  who deem it  wisdom  to  meditate on these  things! How many persons say,  as  though  they had entered  into  a league with death,  and  made  a covenant with  hell: When  the overflowing scourge  shall  pass through, it  shall  not  come upon us? Thus it  is  that  they turn away  their  face,  that they may  not  look  upon  their end; there is  no  fear  of  God nor care  for  death  before  their eyes. Therefore they  spend their days  in  wealth,  and  in a moment  they  go  down  to hell.

Man. What shall  I do  to thee,  O keeper  of  men? Thy hands have  made  me,  and fashioned me  wholly  round about, and  is  it  thus  that  thou castest me  headlong  down? Spare me,  O Lord,  for  my days  are  as  nothing. What profit is  there  in  my  blood,  if I go  down  to  corruption? Shall dust  confess  to  thee,  or declare  thy  truth? Shall any one in  the  sepulchre  declare thy mercy,  and  thy  truth  in destruction? For there  is  no one  in  death  that  is  mindful of thee,  and  who  shall  confess to thee  in  hell? Does it  seem