A Meditation Upon the Putting Out of a Candle by William Spurstowe (1666) Light and darkness are in Scripture the two most usual expressions by which happiness and misery are set forth unto us.  Hell and Heaven, which will one day divide the whole World between them, and become the sole mansions of endless woe, and blessedness, are described, the one to be a place of outward darkness, and the other an inheritance in light.  But it is observable also, that as the happiness of worldly men, and believers is wholly differing; so the light to which the one and other is resembled, is greatly discrepant. The happiness of the wicked worldling is compared to a candle, which is a feeble and dim light, and consumes itself by burning, or is put out by every small puff of wind; but the prosperity and happiness of the righteous is not lucerna in domo, a candle in a house; but sol in cielo, as the sun in the sky, which though it may be clouded or eclipsed, yet can never be extinguished, or interrupted in its course, but that it will shine more and more unto the perfect day, till it come to the fullness of bliss and glory in Heaven. May we not, then, rather bemoan, than envy, the best conditioned of worldly men, who comes out of a dark womb into a dark world, and has no healing beams of the Sun of Righteousness arising upon him to enlighten his paths, or to direct his steps.  What if he have some few strictures of light, which the creatures, that are no better than a rush candle do seem to refresh him with, and in the confidence of which he walks for a time.  Yet alas!  How suddenly do the damps of affliction make such a light to burn low, and to expire, and to leave him as lost in the pitchy shades of anguish and despair?  How do the terrors of darkness multiply upon him every moment all those evils that a festless fancy can suggest?  He sees nothing, and yet he speaks of ghastly shapes that stand before him.  He cannot tell who hurts him, and yet he complains of the stinging of serpents, of the torments of fiery flames, of the wracking of his limbs.  If he have cordials put into his mouth, he spits them out again, as if they were the gall of asps, or if he have food ministered to him he wholly rejects it, as that which will help to lengthen out a miserable life; and yet death to him would be the worst thing to befall him.  If death approach, he then cries out, as Crisorius in Gregory, “Inducias vel usque ad mane, inducias vel usque ad mane”, or, “A truce, a respite Lord, until the morning!”  So great are his straits, as that he knows not what to choose.  O that I could then affect some fond worldlings with the vanity and fickleness of their condition, who have nothing to secure them from an endless night of darkness, but the wan and pale light of a few earthly comforts, which are ofttimes far shorter than their lives, but never can be one moment longer.  Have you no wisdom to consider, that your life is but a span, and that all your delights are not so much?  Have you never read of a state of blessedness, in which it is said, that there shall be no night, and they need no candle, “neither light of the sun, for the Lord God giveth thine light, and they shall reign forever and ever” (Rev. 22:5).  Or are you so regardless of the future, as that you will resolvedly hazard whatever can fall out, for the present satisfaction of some inordinate desires?  Do you not fear the threatening of Him who has said, “The candle of the wicked shall be put out” (Prov. 24:20)?  Oh then, while it is called today, make David’s prayer from your heart.  Say:  “Lord lift Thou up the light of Thy countenance upon us, Thou shalt put gladness in my heart more than in the time my corn and wine increased” (Ps. 4:7).     ——————————————————————- This article is taken from:  Spurstowe, William.  The Spiritual Chymist: or, Six Decads of Divine Meditations on Several Subjects. London: Philip Chetwind, 1666.  A PDF file of this book can be downloaded, free of charge, at http://www.ClassicChristianLibrary.com