e depth of the bottomless pit, and hath
seen his own offence tormented in others, and the same brands shaken at
him. He hath seen the change of faces in that cool one, as a tempter, as
a tormentor; and hath heard the noise of a conscience, and is so
frightened with all these, that he can never have rest till he have run
out of himself to God, in whose face at first he find rigour, but
afterwards sweetness in his bosom; he bleeds first from the hand that
heals him. The law of God hath made work for mercy, which he hath no
sooner apprehended than he forgets his wounds, and looks carelessly upon
all these terrors of guiltiness. When he casts his eye back upon
himself, he wonders where he was and how he came there; and grants that
if there were not some witchcraft in sin, he could not have been so
sottishly graceless. And now, in the issue, Satan finds (not without
indignation and repentance) that he hath done him a good turn in
tempting him: for he had never been so good if he had not sinned; he had
never fought with such courage, if he had not seen his blood and been
ashamed of his folly. Now he is seen and felt in the front of the
spiritual battle; and can teach others how to fight, and encourage them
in fighting. His heart was never more taken up with the pleasure of sin,
than now with care of avoiding it: the very sight of that cup, wherein
such a fulsome portion was brought him, turns his stomach: the first
offers of sin make him tremble more now than he did before at the
judgments of his sin; neither dares he so much as look towards Sodom.
All the powers and craft of hell cannot fetch him in for a customer to
evil; his infirmity may yield once, his resolution never. There is none
of his senses or parts, which he hath not within covenants for their
good behaviour, which they cannot ever break with impunity. The wrongs
of his sin he repays to men with recompense, as hating it should be said
he owes anything to his offence; to God (what in him lies) with sighs,
tears, vows, and endeavours of amendment. No heart is more waxen to the
impressions of forgiveness, neither are his hands more open to receive
than to give pardon. All the injuries which are offered to him are
swallowed up in his wrongs to his Maker and Redeemer; neither can he
call for the arrearages of his farthings, when he looks upon the
millions forgiven him: he feels not what he suffers from men, when he
thinks of what he hath done and should have suffered. H