allows itself every animosity which extends not to avowed revenge; it justifies every pleasure in which guilt is not palpable; it delivers itself up without reserve to every worldly desire and gratification, by which no individual, it supposes, is injured; every omission, which seems to turn on the arbitrary duties, or but slightly interest the essential ones, it makes no scruple of; every action of selflove, which leads not directly to guilt, it regards as nothing; all that nicety with regard to rank and personal fame, which is compatible with that moderation even the world requires, it regards as a merit. Now, what happens in consequence of this? Listen, and you shall know; and I beg you will attend to the following reflections.
In the first place: all the inclinations within us, which oppose themselves to order and duty, being continually strengthened, order and duty at last find in us insurmountable difficulties: insomuch, that, to accomplish them on any essential occasion, or when required by the law of God, is like remounting against the stream of a rapid flood, where the current drags us down in spite of every effort to the contrary; or like a furious and unmanageable horse which it is necessary to stop short on the brink of a precipice. Thus your insensibility and pride are nourished to such a degree of strength, that you abandon your heart to all their impressions. Thus your care and anxiety have so fortified in your heart the desire of worldly praise, that, on any important occasion, where it would be necessary to sacrifice the vanity of its suffrages to duty, and expose yourself, for the good of your soul, to its censure and derision, you will always prefer the interests of vanity to those of truth, and the opinions of men will be much more powerful than the fear of God. Thus those anxieties with regard to fortune and advancement have rendered ambition so completely sovereign of your heart, that, in any delicate conjuncture, where the destruction of a rival would be necessary toward your own elevation, you will never hesitate, but will sacrifice your conscience to your fortune, and be unjust toward your brother, lest you fail toward yourself. Thus in a word, to avoid a long detail, those suspicious attachments, loose conversations, ridiculous compliances, and desires of pleasing, too much attended, have filled you with dispositions so nearly allied to guilt and debauchery, that you are no longer capable of resistance against any of their attacks; the corruption prepared by the whole train of your past actions, will be lighted up in an instant; your weakness will overcome your reflection; your heart will go against glory, duty, and yourself. We cannot long continue faithful, when we find in ourselves so many dispositions to be otherwise.
Thus you will yourself be surprised at your own weakness: you will ask at yourself, what are become of all those dispositions of modesty and virtue, which formerly inspired you with such horror at sin? You no longer will know yourself: but this state of guilt will gradually appear less frightful to you. The heart soon justifies to itself whatever pleases it: whatever is agreeable to us, does
