ides, though I am sensible that I must, like others, reach
that term, it is yet at so great a distance, that I cannot
discern it, because I know I shall not die except by mere
dissolution, having already, by my regular course of life, shut
up all the other avenues of death, and thereby prevented the humours
of my body from making any other war upon me, than that which I must
expect from the elements employed in the composition of this mortal
frame. I am not so simple as not to know, that, as I was born,
so I must die. But that is a desirable death, which nature brings
on us by way of dissolution. For nature, having herself formed
the union between our body and soul, knows best in what manner it
may be most easily dissolved, and grants us a longer day to do it,
than we could expect from sickness, which is violent. This is the
death, which, without speaking like a poet, I may call, not death,
but life. Nor can it be otherwise. Such a death does not overtake
one till after a very long course of years, and in consequence of
an extreme weakness; it being only by slow degrees, that men grow
too feeble to walk, and unable to reason, becoming blind, and
deaf, decrepid, and full of every other kind of infirmity. Now I
(by God's blessing) may be quite sure that I am at a very great
distance from such a period. Nay, I have reason to think, that
my soul, having so agreeable a dwelling in my body, as not to meet
with any thing in it but peace, love, and harmony, not only between
its humours, but between my reason and my senses, is exceedingly
content and well pleased with her present situation: and of course,
that a great length of time and many years must be requisite to
dislodge her. Whence it must be concluded for certain, that I have
still a series of years to live in health and spirits, and enjoy
this beautiful world, which is, indeed, beautiful to those, who
know how to make it so, as I have done, and likewise expect to be
able to do, with God's assistance, in the next; and all by the
means of virtue, and that divine regularity of life, which I have
adopted, concluding an alliance with my reason, and declaring war
against my sensual appetites; a thing which every man may do,
who desired to live as he ought.

Now, if this sober life be so happy; if its name be so desirable
and delightful; if the possession of the blessings which attend
it, be so stable and permanent, all I have still left to do, is
to beseech (since