day, "Would rather that I had fallen into the abyss of the earth and perished!" The severity of his torture is in proportion to the amount of sensual enjoyments in which he had participated while he was a prince. And it is plain that this torture is not inflicted on the body, but upon only the spirit, and that it is more excruciating than any pains of the body would be.
So long as a man is attached to the things of this world engrossed with the care of his body, and gives over his nature to intercourse with sensual enjoyments, he will not care for the warnings his spirit receives in this world, nor for the torment that it will incur in the future world. A sick man for example will not be so excessively despondent about his malady in the day time, because his senses are interested in other things, and as his heart follows in their train, he in some measure forgets his malady. In the night, however, when his senses have nothing to be employed about, his thoughts about his malady do not leave his mind free for one moment, and his pain increases. So also in death, the cares and thoughts of the world and the external senses cease entirely to operate on account of the torment of the spirit, and then the perfect torment of the spirit becomes manifest.
The second kind of torment in hell, beloved, is the fire of ignominy and shame. In illustration of this, suppose that a prince receives into his friendship a poor and humble man, treating him with great honor and making him the favorite among all his confidential servants. He gives into his hands the keys of all his treasuries, commits his honor and wife and family to his care, and in short confides all his affairs into his hands, in full reliance upon him. Then, suppose that the poor man, after being elevated to this high rank, should be puffed up with pride, and should be disposed to betray the honor of the prince,—that he should begin to indulge in unworthy conduct with his wife
