In-Text |
These Slaves, Sirs, are you and I, Young and Old, every Mothers Child of us, who have ran away from God our Heavenly Master; the Wilderness in which we are wandering is the World; the Lyon that pursues us is Death; the Tree to which we run for Shelter, is the false Hopes of long Life; The Honey on which we feed, are the Pleasures, Profits, and Honours here below, which whilest we are feeding immoderately upon, |
These Slaves, Sirs, Are you and I, Young and Old, every Mother's Child of us, who have ran away from God our Heavenly Master; the Wilderness in which we Are wandering is the World; the lion that pursues us is Death; the Tree to which we run for Shelter, is the false Hope's of long Life; The Honey on which we feed, Are the Pleasures, Profits, and Honours Here below, which whilst we Are feeding immoderately upon, |
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