if it were their true country; who dread the world to come, as if it were a land of banishment; who are less anxious about their eternal inheritance, than about their temporal pursuits; who consider death as the greatest of all evils—the extinction of every hope and the end of every enjoyment. The world is that temporal kingdom, where Christ is not known, or, if he be known, is not glorified as God; where his maxims are reprobated, his faithful servants despised, his blessings abused, his sacraments neglected or profaned, his worship abandoned. This is the world which we have engaged to renounce, to avoid, to hate, to oppose by our good example, and to resist with all our heart and mind and strength. This is the world which ought to be crucified to us—that is, ought to be the object of our aversion, and to which we ought to be crucified—that is, ought to be the objects of its censures and ridicule.
Now, my beloved, in what manner do we fulfil this engage ment? Do we loathe the enjoyments of the world? Are we grieved at the sight of its abominations and crimes? Do we sigh after our true country, and lament that the time of our pilgrimage is prolonged? Do we wish to be dissolved and to be with Christ?
No: we do nothing of the kind; or rather, we do directly the reverse. Our thoughts and affections are centred in the world; its laws are our laws; its maxims are our maxims; we condemn what it condemns; and we commend what it commends. When I say we, I mean the generality of Christians. I know that there are many who complain bitterly of the world; who accuse it of injustice, ingratitude, and caprice; who discharge upon it the coldest venom of invective; and who describe its errors and abuses in the strongest terms. But, notwithstanding all this, they still continue to love it; they court its favours; they cannot live without it. Where is the man who can say from his heart that he hates the world, and that he has renounced its pleasures, its customs, its maxims, and its expectations? All are pledged, all, without exception, have entered into a most solemn covenant to do this, and not one will do it.
We engaged, in the second place, to renounce the flesh and all its irregular inclinations and desires: that is to say, we engaged to shun indolence and sensuality, to resist the cravings of a corrupted heart, to chastise the body, to crucify it, and to bring it into subjection. This was our vow; and we are obliged to fulfil it: it is one of our principal duties: it is inseparable from the character of a Christian. And by whom is it fulfilled?
Lastly, we engaged to renounce the Devil and all his works. If it be asked, what these works are, I reply, that they are the works which form the history of the most considerable part of our lives. They are ambition, pride, hypocrisy, vain-glory, and deceit: they are fraud, injustice, double-dealing, and lies: they are
