The Misery of a Wicked Man.

Back to Divine Breathings!

---

Lord, what a miserable creature is a wicked man! His very manna turns to worms; his very mercies make him miserable! Look at him in his wealthy condition, and you will find that he has not the privilege of enjoying it, only the trouble of keeping it—which tends not to his comfort.

Or, if he enjoys it—he does so miserably abuse it, that he makes that which is but temporal in its use, to be for his eternal punishment! Alas! the pleasures of it are soon gone—but the pain of it will continue with him forever! Lord, help me to improve your mercies—that your mercies may not aggravate my miseries.

Let sinners boast how tall they rise,
I'll never envy them again;
There they may stand with haughty eyes,
Until they plunge deep in endless pain.

Their fancied joys, how fast they flee;
Just like a dream when man awakes:
Their songs of softest harmony,
Are but a preface to their plagues.