Let them give the right word to insanity like that who sleep and
soak in sinful sloth no longer.
We have all enemies in our own souls that never sleep, whatever we may
do. There are no irons on their heels. They never procrastinate. They
never say to their master, A little more slumber. Now, could you name
any hateful enemy entrenched in your own heart, of which you have of
yourself said far more than that? And, if so, what have you done, what
are you at this moment doing, to cast that enemy out? Have you any
armour on, any weapons of offence and precision, against that enemy? And
what success and what defeat have you had in unearthing and casting out
that enemy? What fort do you hold? On what virtue, on what grace are
you posted by your Lord to keep for yourself and for Him? And with what
cost of meat and drink and sleep and amusement do you lose it or keep it
for Him? Alexander used to leave his tent at midnight and go round the
camp, and spear to his post the sentinel he found sleeping.
There is nothing we are all so slothful in as secret, particular,
importunate prayer.
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