Thou mayst
wish, "Would I had been converted in time;" but that will not help
thee neither. And if, like the wife of Jeroboam, thou shouldst feign
thyself to be another, the prophet, the Lord Jesus, would soon find
thee out. What wilt thou do, poor sinner? Heavy tidings, heavy
tidings will attend thee, except thou repent, poor sinner!
Sluggard, art thou asleep still? art thou resolved to sleep the
sleep of death? Will neither tidings from heaven nor hell awake
thee? Wilt thou say still, "Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a
little folding of the arms to sleep?"
O that I was one that was skilful in lamentation, and had but a
yearning heart towards thee, how would I pity thee; how would I
bemoan thee! Poor soul, lost soul, dying soul, what a hard heart
have I that I cannot mourn for thee! If thou shouldst lose but a
limb, a child, or a friend, it would not be so much; but, poor man,
it is thy soul: if it was to lie in hell but for a day, but for a
year, nay, ten thousand years, it would in comparison be nothing;
but O it is for ever! O this cutting EVER!
Sinner, awake; yea, I say unto thee, awake! Sin lieth at thy door,
and God's axe lieth at thy root, and hell-fire is right underneath
thee. I say again, awake. Every tree that bringeth not forth good
fruit, is hewn down and cast into the fire.
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