View source for A constant clog to the soul

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<em>The body</em> is slow and sluggish—<strong>a constant clog to the soul</strong>—chained down to the dull clods of clay among which it toils and labours—wearied with a few miles walk to chapel, or with sitting an hour on the same seat—with eyes, ears, mouth, all inlets and outlets to evil—tempting and tempted—galloping to evil—and crawling to good—with its shattered nerves, aching joints, panting lungs, throbbing head, and all the countless ills that flesh is heir to.<br><br> What is this poor earthly body fit for—but to drop into the grave, and be buried out of sight until the glorious resurrection morn?<br>