Do we commend hospitality? Do we admire brotherly love, wifely affection, virginity, feeding the poor, singing psalms, nightlong vigils, penitence? Do we mortify the body with fasting? Do we through prayer take up our abode with God? Do we subordinate the inferior element in us to the better—I mean, the dust to the spirit, as we should if we have returned the right verdict on the alloy of the two which is our nature? Do we make life a meditation of death? Do we establish our mastery over our passions, mindful of the nobility of our second birth? Do we tame our swollen and inflamed tempers? Or our pride, which “comes before a fall,” or our unreasonable grief, our crude pleasures, our dirty laughter, our undisciplined eyes, our greedy ears, our immoderate talk, our wandering thoughts, our anything in ourselves which the evil one can take over from us and use against us, “bringing in death through the windows,” as Scripture has it, meaning through the senses? No. We do the very opposite: ...
“Injury precedes destruction, and an evil thought precedes ruin.” In the same way a house never suddenly collapses except because of some old weakness in the foundation or because of extended disregard by its tenants. Thus the structure of the roof is eventually destroyed by what had begun as a tiny leak but into which, through long neglect, a stormy tempest of rain pours like a river, once a large breach has been made. For “by slothfulness a dwelling will be brought low, and through lazy hands a house will leak.” .
