LXXXIX. Upon the Arraignment of a Felon.
WIth what terrour doth this Malefactor stand at that Bar? his Hand trembles, whiles it is lift up for his triall; his very Lips quake, whiles he saith, Not guilty; his Countenance condemns him before the Judge; and his fear is ready to execute him before his Hangman. Yet this Judge is but a weak man, that must soon after die himself; that Sentence [ E] of Death which he can pronounce is already passed by Nature upon the most innocent; that act of Death which the Law inflicteth by him is but momen∣tany; who knows whether himself shall not die more painfully?
O God, with what horror shall the guilty Soul stand before thy dreadfull Tribunall in the day of the great Assizes of the World? whiles there is the presence of an Infinite Majesty to daunt him, a fierce and clamorous Con∣science to give in evidence against him, Legions of ugly and terrible Devils waiting to seize upon him, a gulf of unquenchable Fire ready to receive him; whiles the Glory of the Judge is no lesse confounding then the Cruelty of the Tormenters; where the Sentence is unavoidable, and the Execution ever∣lasting. [ F] Why do not these terrors of thee, my God, make me wise to hold a privy Sessions upon my Soul & actions, that being acquitted by my own heart, I may not be condemned by thee; and being judged by my self, I may not be condemned with the World?