gs to itself.
Yes, said Christian, I am only too conversant with all these sinful
cogitations, but they are all greatly against my will, and might I but
choose mine own thoughts, do you suppose that I would ever think these
things any more? 'The cause is in my will,' said Caesar, on a great
occasion. But the true Christian, unhappily, cannot say that. If he
could say that, he would soon say also that the snare is broken and that
his soul has escaped. And then the cause of all his evil cogitations,
his vain thoughts, his angry feelings, his envious feelings, his
ineradicable covetousness, his hell-rooted and heaven-towering pride, and
his whole evil heart of unbelief would soon be at an end. 'I cannot be
free of sin,' said Thomas Boston, 'but God knows that He would be welcome
to make havoc of my lusts to-night and to make me henceforth a holy man.
I know no lust that I would not be content to part with. My will bound
hand and foot I desire to lay at His feet.' Yes: such is the mystery and
depth of sin in the hearts of all God's saints, that far deeper than
their will, far back behind their will, the whole substance and very core
of their hearts is wholly corrupt and enslaved to sin. And thus it is
that while their renewed and delivered will works out, so far, their
salvation in their walk and conversation among men, the helplessness of
their will in the cleansing and the keeping of their hearts is to the end
the sorrow and the mystery of their sanctification. To will was present
with Paul, and with Bunyan, and with Boston; but their heart--they could
not with all their keeping keep their heart. No man can; no man who has
at all tried it can. 'Might I but choose mine own thoughts, I would
choose never to think of these things more: but when I would be doing of
that which is best, that which is worst is with me.' We can choose
almost all things. Our will and choice have almost all things at their
disposal. We can choose our God. We can choose life or death. We can
choose heaven or hell. We can choose our church, our minister, our
books, our companions, our words, our works, and, to some extent, our
inward thoughts, but only to some extent. We can encourage this or that
thought; we can entertain it and dwell upon it; or we can detect it,
detest it, and cast it out. But that secret place in our heart where our
thoughts hide and harbour, and out of which they spring so suddenly upon
the mind and the heart, t