There is one moral disadvantage to which all preaching is subject; that
those who, by the wickedness of their lives, stand in greatest need,
have usually the smallest share; for either they are absent upon the
account of idleness, or spleen, or hatred to religion, or in order to
doze away the intemperance of the week; or, if they do come, they are
sure to employ their minds rather any other way, than regarding or
attending to the business of the place.

There is no excuse so trivial, that will not pass upon some men's
consciences to excuse their attendance at the public worship of God.
Some are so unfortunate as to be always indisposed on the Lord's day,
and think nothing so unwholesome as the air of a church. Others have
their affairs so oddly contrived, as to be always unluckily prevented by
business. With some it is a great mark of wit, and deep understanding,
to stay at home on _Sundays_. Others again discover strange fits
of laziness, that seize them, particularly on that day, and confine
them to their beds. Others are absent out of mere contempt of religion.
And, lastly, there are not a few who look upon it as a day of rest, and
therefore claim the privilege of their castle, to keep the Sabbath by
eating, drinking, and sleeping, after the toil and labour of the week.
Now in all this the worst circumstance is, that these persons are such
whose companies are most required, and who stand most in need of a
physician.

But of all misbehaviour, none is comparable to that of those who come
here to sleep; opium is not so stupifying to many persons as an
afternoon sermon. Perpetual custom hath so brought it about, that the
words, of whatever preacher, become only a sort of uniform sound at
a distance, than which nothing is more effectual to lull the senses.