Has poverty nothing worse in it than this, that it makes men liable to be laughed at? 'Tis a sign this idle poet talked by rote of the things which he knew not. Is not want of food something worse than this? God pronounced it as a curse upon man, that he should earn it by the sweat of his brow. But how many are there in this Christian country, that toil and labour, and sweat, and have it not at last, but struggle with weariness and hunger together? Is it not worse, for one after an hard day's labour, to come back to a poor, cold, dirty, uncomfortable lodging, and to find there not even the food which is needful to repair his wasted strength? You that live at ease in the earth, that want nothing but eyes to see, ears to hear, and hearts to understand how well God has dealt with you: is it not worse to seek bread, day by day, and find none? Perhaps to find the comfort also of five or six children, crying for what he has not to give. Were it not, that he is restrained by an unseen hand, would he not soon curse God and die? O want of bread! Want of bread! Who can tell what this means, unless he hath felt it himself? I am astonished, it occasions no more than heaviness even in them that believe!
4. * Perhaps next to this we may place the death of those who were near and dear unto us: of a tender parent, and one not much declined into the vale of years: of a beloved child just rising into life, and clasping about our heart: of a friend, that was as our own soul: next the grace
