covetousness of divers sorts; and little satisfaction will he get
from them. But, when he begins to hunger and thirst after
righteousness, that heavenly and spiritual hunger destroys the old
carnal hunger in him. He cares less and less to ask, What shall I
eat and drink, wherewithal shall I be clothed?--Or how shall I win
for myself admiration, station, and all the fine things of this
world?--What he thinks of more and more is,--How can I become better
and more righteous? How can I make my neighbours better likewise?
How the world? As for the good things of this life, if they will
make me a better man, let them come. If not, why should I care so
much about them? What I want is, to be righteous like God,
beneficent and good-doing like God.

That is the man of whom it is written, that he shall be satisfied
with the plenteousness of God's house, God's kingdom; for with God
is the fountain of life.

Again, as long as a man has no hunger and thirst after truth, he is
easily enough interested, though he is not satisfied. He reads,
perhaps, and amuses his fancy, but he does no more. He reads again,
really to instruct his mind, and learns about this and that: but he
does not learn the causes of things; the reasons of the chances and
changes of this world; and so he is not satisfied; he takes up
doctrines, true ones, perhaps, at secondhand out of books and out of
sermons:, without having had any personal experience of them; and
so, when sickness or sorrow, doubt or dread, come, they do not
satisfy him. Then he longs--he ought at least to long--for truth.
He thirsts for truth. O that I could know the truth about myself;
about my fellow-creatures; about this world. What am I really?
What are they? Where am I? What can I know? What ought I to do?