MEDITATION XXXVII.
MEDITATION XXXVII.
UPON ONE BEING PUT UNDER CONFINEMENT ABOARD.
Under sail, June 26, 1758.
Truly we might be surprised to think that one could be closer confined in a ship at sea, than only to be in it; for, what is the vessel but a floating prison, where the closest confinement can only deprive a man of a few paces? Where can the man go, who has nothing over him but the canopy of the sky, or around him but the liquid ocean? Yet to be forbid to walk the very deck, to be locked in the cumbrous irons, and put under the care of the sentinel and his sword—are marks of anger and restraint.
Even so, a man may be straitened in himself, a prisoner at home—though he might range the whole globe—and find himself fettered with grief, and manacled with sorrow, pensive amidst his pleasures, and dejected among his friends.
Wherever these prisoners are permitted to go, they are always attended with the sentinels in arms. In like manner, the man whose conscience is awakened, shall find a constant companion, and unwearied reprover, who will either reprove to purpose, or reproach forever.
When a man has transgressed the martial law, neither money nor friends can prevent punishment. In like manner, nothing in the world can preserve from, or enable to support a wounded spirit. If the stroke comes from above, so must the relief. How poor are all possessions to a person that has not peace within!
One of these prisoners mutters and complains, is peevish and displeased at the sentence of his superior—but it avails him nothing. In like manner, to repine at affliction, and complain about God's Providence—is the mark of an unsanctified heart, and cannot shorten our trials, or alleviate our troubles—but must sharpen our sorrows and heighten our sufferings.
But another of them enjoys himself in his confinement, is cheerful and composed, knowing that a very short time shall restore him to liberty. In like manner, the saint, amidst his afflictions, can be happy and serene, knowing that the period is not far distant that shall translate him into the glorious liberty of the sons of God. Paul and Silas could sing praises in a prison, because when God gives quietness, none can cause trouble.
In a word, what are all the people in the ship—but prisoners, whether they approve or disapprove the expression? Even so, what is the body but a clog, what the whole world but a confinement to heirs of immortality, and expectants of heaven? In this we earnestly groan for the better state, and long to be unclothed; not that we would peevishly drop our existence, be turned out of house and home—but only change our prison for a palace, and this corruption put on incorruption, and this mortal put on immortality, and we walk at perfect liberty through everlasting day!
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