Page:TheParadiseOfTheChristianSoul.djvu/609

 ness; where there  is  nought but the  concupiscence  of  the flesh, the  concupiscence  of the  eyes,  and  the  pride  of life. Hence it  is  that  he  sees another law  in  his  members, fighting against  the  law  of  his mind. Oh, conflict  how  great and grievous! oh, victory  how difficult and  infrequent!

Assuredly all  this  has  ever appeared so  burdensome  and painful to  my  friends,  that while they  endured  their  life in patience,  they  wished  for death. Hence arose  their many groanings  and  complaints. Woe is  me,  that  my sojourning  is  prolonged! My soul  is  weary  of  my  life! Unhappy man  that  I am,  who shall deliver  me  from  the body of  this  death? &amp;c.

Besides, the  life  of  man  is but  a passage,  a prison,  an exile; yet  in  these  he  who fears to  die  desires  to  remain. What! art thou  weary  of  the journey, and  yet  wouldst  not have it  ended? Shut up  in  a noisome  and  filthy  prison,  yet wouldst not  be  released  from it? Who is  there  that,  if  situated in  a foreign  land, above all, in  the  midst  of  many  dangers and  enemies,  would  not wish to  return  speedily  to  his own? Who is  there  that  would not account  himself  happy,  if he  were  shortly  to  be  delivered  from  exile? He who is unwilling  to  die  prefers misery to  happiness,  exile  to his  own  country,  darkness  to light,  earth  to  heaven!

MAN. Our life,  O Lord,  is nought  else, indeed,  but  a warfare, a temptation,  a perpetual conflict  upon  earth. Woe is me,  that  my  sojourning  is prolonged  amid  so  many  dangers, and  snares,  and  wiles of Satan,  the  world,  and  the flesh! What is  long  life  to a man  else  than  a lengthening of  torment,  whether  that arise from  the  perception or from  the  apprehension  of evils;  for  combats  are  without, fears  within. Few and evil are  the  days  of our  pilgrimage, yet  such  is  our blindness, that  we  wish  for a long life. We fear  to  die, and wish  to  postpone,  though we cannot  escape  it; whereas death either  is,  or  ought  to be,  the  end  of  our  misery,  the limit of  our  guilt,  the  gate  of life, the  entrance  to  our  Home, and the  vision  of  thy  Presence!

As long  as  we  live  we  are miserable; and the  more  so, because, as  we  grow  older, we seldom  or  never  become better; and even  love  our  misery because  we  know  it  not. Open, I pray  thee,  my  eyes, that I may  see  where  I am, — in banishment,  &amp;c.; and  to what  I should  aspire,  namely, to reach  my  Home; and  that I may no  more  fear  to  die,