Meditation Fifty-fourth.
On the vanity of the world.
I. ONLY the grave, saith holy Job, remaineth for me. xvii. 1. Days and years pass away, pleasures, honours and riches pass away, and what will be the end? Death will come and strip us of all, and we shall be buried in the grave to corrupt and moulder into dust, deserted and forgotten by all. Alas! how, in the end of our lives, will the remembrance of all we have acquired in this world serve for nothing but to increase our anguish, and our uncertainty of salvation! O death, O death, never depart from before my eyes. O God, do thou enlighten me.
II. My life is cut off as by a weaver. Isa. xxxviii. 12. How many in the midst of executing their long-contemplated designs, are overtaken by death and deprived of all things! Ah, with what pain and remorse will the goods of this world be regarded, on the bed of death, by those who have been unduly attached to them! To worldlings who are spiritually blind, the goods of this present life appear great; but death will discover what they really are, dust, smoke and vanity. Before the light of this last lamp all the dazzling grandeur of this world will vanish and disappear. The greatest fortunes, the highest honours, when considered on the bed of death, will lose all their value and splendour. The shade of death will obscure even crowns and sceptres. Grant me, O God, thy holy grace, for this alone is all I desire. I am grieved for ever having despised such a treasure. Jesus, have pity on me.
III. Of what avail then will riches be at the hour of death, when nothing will remain for us but
