f
God, but severely punishes the smallest negligence by which they
themselves are injured. The world sooner pardons the breaking ten
commandments of God, than even a china dish of its own.

"After some cross or opposition, worldly men, as I said before,
begin to think how much content and cheerfulness they remember to
have seen in religious people. They therefore begin to fancy that
religion must be an easy and delightful, as well as a good thing.
They have heard that, _her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all
her paths are peace_; and they persuade themselves, that by this is
meant worldly pleasantness and sensual peace. They resolve at length
to try it, to turn their back upon the world, to engage in the
service of God and turn Christians; just as you resolved to leave
your old service, to enter into the service of the king and turn
soldier. But as you quitted your place in a passion, so they leave
the world in a huff. They do not count the cost. They do not
calculate upon the darling sin, the habitual pleasures, the ease,
and vanities, which they undertake by their new engagements to
renounce, no more than you counted what indulgences you were going
to give up when you quitted the luxuries and idleness of your place
to enlist in the soldier's warfare. They have, as I said, seen
Christians cheerful, and they mistook the ground of their
cheerfulness; they fancied it arose, not because through grace they
had conquered difficulties, but because they had no difficulties in
their passage. They fancied that religion found the road smooth,
whereas it only helps to bear with a rough road without complaint.
They do not know that these Christians are of good cheer, not
because the world is free from tribulation, but because Christ,
their captain, has _overcome the world_. But the irreligious man,
who has only seen the outside of a Christian in his worldly
intercourse, knows little of his secret conflicts, his trials, his
self-denials, his warfare with the world without; and with his own
corrupt desires within.

"The irreligious man quarrels with the world on some such occasion
as you did with your place. He now puts on the outward forms and
ceremonies of religion, and assumes the badge of Christianity, just
as you were struck with the show of a field-day; just as you were
pleased with the music and the marching, and put on the cockade and
red coat. All seems smooth for a little while. He goes through the
outward exercise