Think, think, man, when Christ shall thus unfold Thy secret guilt, and make thee to behold The ugly face of all thy sinful errors. And fill thy soul with his amazing terrors, And let thee see the flaming Pit of Hell, Where all that have no part in him shall dwell; When he shall thus expostulate the case, How canst thou bear to look him in the face? What wilt thou do without an Advocate, Or plead, when thus thy state is desperate? Dost think to put him oif with fair pretenses? Or wilt thou hide and cover thine offenses? Can anything from him concealed be, Who doth the hidden things of darkness see? Art thou of force his Power to withstand? Canst thou by might escape out of his hand? Dost thou intend to run out of his sight, And save thyself from punishment by flight? Or wilt thou be eternally accurst, And ’bide his Vengeance, let him do his worst? Oh! who can bear his indignation’s heat? Or ’bide the pains of Hell which are so great? If, then, thou neither canst his Wrath endure. Nor any ransom after death procure; If neither Cries nor Tears can move his heart To pardon thee or mitigate thy smart, But unto Hell thou must perforce be sent, With dismal horror and astonishment, Consider, my Friend, what cause thou hast, With fear and trembling (while as yet thou may’st), To lay to heart thy sin and misery, And to make out after the Remedy. Consider well the greatness of thy danger, O Child of wrath, and object of God’s anger. Thou hangest over the Infernal Pit, By one small thread, and car’st not thou a whit? There’s but a step between thy Soul and Death; Nothing remains but stopping of thy breath, (Which may be done to-morrow, or before) And then thou art undone forevermore. Let this awaken thy security, And make thee look about thee speedily. How canst thou rest an hour or sleep a night, Or in thy creature-comforts take delight? Or with vain Toys thyself forgetful make How near thou art unto the burning Lake? How canst thou live without tormenting fears? How canst thou hold from weeping floods of tears? Yea, tears of blood, I might almost have said, If such-like tears could from thine eyes be shed. To gain the world what will it profit thee. And lose thy soul and self eternally? Eternity on one small point dependeth; The man is lost that this short life misspendeth. For as the Tree doth fall, right so it lies, And man continues in what state he dies. Who happy die shall happy rise again; Who curséd die shall curséd still remain. If under Sin and Wrath Death leaves thee bound, At Judgment under Wrath thou shalt be found; And then woe woe that ever thou wert born, O wretched man, of Heav’n and Earth forlorn! Consider this, all ye that God forget, Who all his threatenings at naught do set. Lest into pieces he begin to tear Your souls, and there be no deliverer.