Reader, is it not condescending grace in the highest degree, nay, beyond all degrees, for this self-sufficient, absolutely perfect, incomparable God, when the soul of man lay naked, starving, restless, encompassed with enemies, unpitied of all creatures, weltering in its blood, gasping for breath, ready every moment to fetch its last, and to be seized on by devils, dragged to their dungeon of darkness, there to fry in untolerable flames for ever; for Him to look on man in this loathsome condition with an eye of favour and love? … Friend, friend, what is condescending grace, if this be not? Alas, the incomparable God had no obligation to man, He stood in no way need of man, He is incapable of the least good by man; He would have been as happy as He is at present, if the race of mankind had been ruined and had perished. Besides, He was infinitely disobliged by man, and had all the reason in the world to destroy him; and yet He is pleased to be as studious of man’s welfare, and as solicitous about it as if it had been His own.
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