The grand Tryal or, Poetical Exercitations upon the book of Job. Wherein, Suitable to each Text of that sacred Book, a modest Explanation, and Continuation of the several Discourses contained in it, is attempted by William Clark |
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XVI. |
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XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
XXII. |
XXIII. |
XXIV. |
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XXVI. |
XXVII. |
XXVIII. |
XXIX. |
XXX. |
XXXI. |
IV. |
V. |
The grand Tryal | ||
Cap. IV.
Job
having thus attempted to express
That inward grief, which did his Soul oppress,
One of his three Friends, Eliphaz, by name,
Did him thus tartly for his passion blame.
That inward grief, which did his Soul oppress,
One of his three Friends, Eliphaz, by name,
Did him thus tartly for his passion blame.
Should we, says he, with thee expostulate,
And, on the matter, enter in debate;
We see the heat of thy impatience
Is such, as our discourse may give offence.
Yet though thou should'st be vext, and curse us all,
As thou hast done thy birth-day, nothing shall
Make us forget our duty (for reprove
The errors of a man we so much love;
We must indeed) then pray who can forbear
To answer thee, when such discourse we hear
Of thy great zeal, and piety of late,
Thy grace thy virtue, and I know not what,
By which thou'd make us think forsooth, that he
Who cannot act unjustly, punish'd thee
Without a fault preceeding—very fair,
Pray, who with patience can such language hear?
Should in our hearing one of God complain
Unjustly and from answering we abstain?
And, on the matter, enter in debate;
We see the heat of thy impatience
Is such, as our discourse may give offence.
Yet though thou should'st be vext, and curse us all,
As thou hast done thy birth-day, nothing shall
Make us forget our duty (for reprove
The errors of a man we so much love;
We must indeed) then pray who can forbear
To answer thee, when such discourse we hear
Of thy great zeal, and piety of late,
Thy grace thy virtue, and I know not what,
By which thou'd make us think forsooth, that he
Who cannot act unjustly, punish'd thee
Without a fault preceeding—very fair,
Pray, who with patience can such language hear?
Should in our hearing one of God complain
Unjustly and from answering we abstain?
No, no, my friend, we came not here indeed,
To hear thee in thy Passions exceed
The rage of mad-men, or allow thee so
To cry, and overact a man of woe.
For shame—how mean a thing it is to see
Thy mind thus discompos'd, that such as thee
Whose eminent prudence, virtue, piety
And long experience o'th' worlds vanity,
We thought had taught thee to know better things,
That such as thee, in foolish murmurings
Should bluster thus.—
To hear thee in thy Passions exceed
The rage of mad-men, or allow thee so
To cry, and overact a man of woe.
For shame—how mean a thing it is to see
Thy mind thus discompos'd, that such as thee
Whose eminent prudence, virtue, piety
And long experience o'th' worlds vanity,
We thought had taught thee to know better things,
That such as thee, in foolish murmurings
Should bluster thus.—
Thou who didst others in affliction teach
How to behave, would to them patience preach,
And how with crosses they should be content,
Thy self to become thus impatient!
Thou, who in troubles others hast restor'd,
Canst thou no comfort to thy self afford?
How to behave, would to them patience preach,
And how with crosses they should be content,
Thy self to become thus impatient!
Thou, who in troubles others hast restor'd,
Canst thou no comfort to thy self afford?
28
Others thou'd check, when in Adversity,
As thou dost now, they'd passionately cry,
And curse their Birth-day, as thou now hast done;
Afflictions at length are come upon
Thy self, and thou art griev'd, it toucheth thee
I'th' quick, and thou art all in flames, we see.
As thou dost now, they'd passionately cry,
And curse their Birth-day, as thou now hast done;
Afflictions at length are come upon
Thy self, and thou art griev'd, it toucheth thee
I'th' quick, and thou art all in flames, we see.
Where's now thy fear of God? thy confidence
In him? thy Uprightness? thy Patience?
Where are those Virtues now?—what—are they fled,
At such time, as thou most of them hast need?
In him? thy Uprightness? thy Patience?
Where are those Virtues now?—what—are they fled,
At such time, as thou most of them hast need?
Why should'st, my friend, like mad-man then cry out,
In view of all thy Neighbours round about?
And set out thy condition, with such Art,
As if, without cause, thou afflicted wer't?
Have not thy sins call'd for thy punishment?
Prethee forbear then this thy vain Complaint,
Who ever perish'd being Innocent?
Pray, call to mind how thou hast liv'd before,
As other sinners, and complain no more.
Revise the Annals of thy former time,
And thou wilt surely find the hidden Crime,
For which we all of us perceive indeed
Thou now art most severely punished.
In view of all thy Neighbours round about?
And set out thy condition, with such Art,
As if, without cause, thou afflicted wer't?
Have not thy sins call'd for thy punishment?
Prethee forbear then this thy vain Complaint,
Who ever perish'd being Innocent?
Pray, call to mind how thou hast liv'd before,
As other sinners, and complain no more.
Revise the Annals of thy former time,
And thou wilt surely find the hidden Crime,
For which we all of us perceive indeed
Thou now art most severely punished.
Consider this pray, and without debate,
Thou'lt not so with thy God expostulate.
He acts according to most upright Laws,
And punishes no man, without a Cause.
But I've observ'd that Antecedent sin,
(How slow soever) still doth usher in
Punishment to it self proportionate,
Which still attends the sinner, soon, or late.
So, in his Judgement on his sins may read,
And see the Cause, from whence his woes proceed.
For I have often seen that such as Plow
Your heathy Ground, and corrupt Seed do Sow,
For all their Labours, when their Harvest came,
They'd Reap no other, but the very same.
Thou'lt not so with thy God expostulate.
He acts according to most upright Laws,
And punishes no man, without a Cause.
But I've observ'd that Antecedent sin,
(How slow soever) still doth usher in
Punishment to it self proportionate,
Which still attends the sinner, soon, or late.
So, in his Judgement on his sins may read,
And see the Cause, from whence his woes proceed.
For I have often seen that such as Plow
Your heathy Ground, and corrupt Seed do Sow,
For all their Labours, when their Harvest came,
They'd Reap no other, but the very same.
Vain men! who, cause not punish'd instantly,
Mistake forbearance for indemnity:
At least they think, when Judgements God designs,
He'l be so kind, as by some outward Signs,
To give them Warning, and proclaim the War,
By th'Herauldry of some Portentuous Star.
In prævious threatnings he'l the work begin,
And not surprize them napping in their sin:
So, ere th'arryval of their punishment,
They may have some small leasure to repent,
By which perhaps they may these ills prevent.
Poor fools, who grossely do themselves abuse
With such wild notions, as if God should use
What methods they prescrib'd, and give them time
First to Commit, then mourn for every Crime.
But let's suppose that God Almighty now
To Sinning men such warnings should allow
In that case, pray what would these wretches do?
Would they repent? I doubt they would not:—nay
I think they'd rather crave a longer day;
That they might mourn, with more convenience,
And so perhaps some hours, ere they go hence,
They'd drop a Tear, or two, and openly
Confess, what they no longer dare deny,
So fraught with hopes, and sins, they'd shrewdly dy.
Mistake forbearance for indemnity:
At least they think, when Judgements God designs,
He'l be so kind, as by some outward Signs,
To give them Warning, and proclaim the War,
By th'Herauldry of some Portentuous Star.
In prævious threatnings he'l the work begin,
And not surprize them napping in their sin:
So, ere th'arryval of their punishment,
They may have some small leasure to repent,
By which perhaps they may these ills prevent.
Poor fools, who grossely do themselves abuse
With such wild notions, as if God should use
What methods they prescrib'd, and give them time
First to Commit, then mourn for every Crime.
But let's suppose that God Almighty now
To Sinning men such warnings should allow
In that case, pray what would these wretches do?
29
I think they'd rather crave a longer day;
That they might mourn, with more convenience,
And so perhaps some hours, ere they go hence,
They'd drop a Tear, or two, and openly
Confess, what they no longer dare deny,
So fraught with hopes, and sins, they'd shrewdly dy.
Thus then we see to warn, and to surprize
Is all one thing, for no man, while he dies
Thinks on Repentance, and it may be then
With a few puling words, opprest with pain,
He'l say he's truly griev'd to think upon
His former Actings, and begin annon
To settle his affaires; and possibly
Emit some pious groans before he dye.
Vain, hoping sinner! on what grounds should he
Thus make account? when we may dayly see
How when a many swell with boystrous Pride,
And undervalue all Mankind beside,
Death, or Destruction suddainly appears,
And pulls them out o'th' world by the Ears.
Is all one thing, for no man, while he dies
Thinks on Repentance, and it may be then
With a few puling words, opprest with pain,
He'l say he's truly griev'd to think upon
His former Actings, and begin annon
To settle his affaires; and possibly
Emit some pious groans before he dye.
Vain, hoping sinner! on what grounds should he
Thus make account? when we may dayly see
How when a many swell with boystrous Pride,
And undervalue all Mankind beside,
Death, or Destruction suddainly appears,
And pulls them out o'th' world by the Ears.
For instance see some proud imperious thing,
Amongst its Neighbours keep such Revelling,
As Lyons, and their Broods in Forrests do
Amongst their Fellow-bruits: for mark but how,
By the same Law, as those do bear away
What e're they find, proclaiming it their prey,
So the oppressing wretch, under pretence
Of Law, and Justice, by plain violence,
Seizes on all his Neighbours Lands around,
And then with Law-suits doth them so confound,
They'r glad at length for Aikers to compound,
And be his Tennents. Yet for all his Pride,
When in Oppressions triumph he doth Ride,
God strikes this lofty Tyrant on the Face,
And layes him ith' Dust, with all his cursed Race.
Amongst its Neighbours keep such Revelling,
As Lyons, and their Broods in Forrests do
Amongst their Fellow-bruits: for mark but how,
By the same Law, as those do bear away
What e're they find, proclaiming it their prey,
So the oppressing wretch, under pretence
Of Law, and Justice, by plain violence,
Seizes on all his Neighbours Lands around,
And then with Law-suits doth them so confound,
They'r glad at length for Aikers to compound,
And be his Tennents. Yet for all his Pride,
When in Oppressions triumph he doth Ride,
God strikes this lofty Tyrant on the Face,
And layes him ith' Dust, with all his cursed Race.
As dead he lyes, and no man doth bemoan him,
From every corner Pleas break out upon him:
All those, whose means by force he did retain,
Are soon restored to their own again.
Then this poor Lyon starves, for lack of food,
None pity him, although he roar aloud,
And all his Whelps are scattered here, and there
To rake the Dung-hill, for their dayly fare.
From every corner Pleas break out upon him:
All those, whose means by force he did retain,
Are soon restored to their own again.
Then this poor Lyon starves, for lack of food,
None pity him, although he roar aloud,
And all his Whelps are scattered here, and there
To rake the Dung-hill, for their dayly fare.
But now, my friend, that thou may'st not suppose
Those words to be my own, I must unclose
The Secrets of my Heart, and plainly tell
What God, of late, did to my Soul reveal.
Those words to be my own, I must unclose
The Secrets of my Heart, and plainly tell
What God, of late, did to my Soul reveal.
About the time, when Mortals wearied,
With anxious Thoughts, do tumble in their Bed,
And one small nap after another catch,
As if they did not mean to sleep, but watch.
With anxious Thoughts, do tumble in their Bed,
And one small nap after another catch,
As if they did not mean to sleep, but watch.
30
Fear came upon me, terrours did assemble,
Before me, which made all my joynts to tremble;
My nerves grew stiff, my heart did shrewdly beat,
And I all o're lay daubling in cold sweat.
Before me, which made all my joynts to tremble;
My nerves grew stiff, my heart did shrewdly beat,
And I all o're lay daubling in cold sweat.
The winds did rage and bluster in my sight,
Which made my haires for fear, to stand upright,
And all my flesh to quiver, nay my bones
Keep'd such a ratling, as a bag of stones
Beat by an Artists hand, do what I please,
I could not shun the grinding of my knees.
Which made my haires for fear, to stand upright,
And all my flesh to quiver, nay my bones
Keep'd such a ratling, as a bag of stones
Beat by an Artists hand, do what I please,
I could not shun the grinding of my knees.
Then see I one, whose face I did not know
Before my eyes appear'd a glorious show,
Which goodly sight did soon my fear allay,
And horrid night to me became as day.
So, when these thundring feares composed were,
In serene silence I a voice did hear
Which thus exprest it self.—
Before my eyes appear'd a glorious show,
Which goodly sight did soon my fear allay,
And horrid night to me became as day.
So, when these thundring feares composed were,
In serene silence I a voice did hear
Which thus exprest it self.—
Upon the earth, what mortal man is he,
Can be more just then God; who e're he be
That in his own eyes thinks himself more pure
Then is his maker, he mistakes it sure.
Can be more just then God; who e're he be
That in his own eyes thinks himself more pure
Then is his maker, he mistakes it sure.
For, when his very Angels he did check
And them for folly soundly did correct:
When for his pride, one mighty Angel fell
From highest Heavens to th'lowest pit of Hell,
When in those heavenly creatures he did find
No constancy according to his mind:
And them for folly soundly did correct:
When for his pride, one mighty Angel fell
From highest Heavens to th'lowest pit of Hell,
When in those heavenly creatures he did find
No constancy according to his mind:
Can sinful man, that mean, and silly tool,
Who lives in Huts of clay be such a fool,
As think he can perfection attain.
To which, who ere Aspyres does toyle in vain.
He, who from dust derives his Pedegree,
Compos'd of dust, who dwells in dust, shall he
Pretend to that perfection in his pride,
Which to his Angels God has even deny'd.
Poor dying wretch! shall he, with those compare,
Who dwell in heavens, and immortal are.
Who lives in Huts of clay be such a fool,
As think he can perfection attain.
To which, who ere Aspyres does toyle in vain.
He, who from dust derives his Pedegree,
Compos'd of dust, who dwells in dust, shall he
Pretend to that perfection in his pride,
Which to his Angels God has even deny'd.
Poor dying wretch! shall he, with those compare,
Who dwell in heavens, and immortal are.
Ah don't we see how vain man perisheth,
And every day augments the rolls of death:
He's alwayes on his march, his Passing-bell
From morn, to night doth, every minute, knell.
Yet no man doth consider seriously
The importance of this mortality.
And every day augments the rolls of death:
He's alwayes on his march, his Passing-bell
From morn, to night doth, every minute, knell.
Yet no man doth consider seriously
The importance of this mortality.
Do not their honours, with them, fly away?
And stoop to wasting time, as well, as they,
Who did enjoy them? I their dignity
Crumbles to dust, and when the wretches dye,
They drown ith' Ocean of Eternity.
Yet no man doth regard this, none so wise,
As, after all this, once to cast his eyes
Upon this subject, which so much concerns
All men to know; yet never mortal learns
The art of dying, though each hour we hear
Sad lectures of it sounded in our eare;
And every moment doth such meanes afford,
As may instruct us, while deaths raging sword
To none giues quarter, but doth every day,
Sweep us, and all our hopefull things away.
For, as they live, alace how many dye,
Pregnant examples o'th' worlds vanity.
And stoop to wasting time, as well, as they,
Who did enjoy them? I their dignity
Crumbles to dust, and when the wretches dye,
They drown ith' Ocean of Eternity.
Yet no man doth regard this, none so wise,
As, after all this, once to cast his eyes
Upon this subject, which so much concerns
All men to know; yet never mortal learns
The art of dying, though each hour we hear
Sad lectures of it sounded in our eare;
31
As may instruct us, while deaths raging sword
To none giues quarter, but doth every day,
Sweep us, and all our hopefull things away.
For, as they live, alace how many dye,
Pregnant examples o'th' worlds vanity.
The grand Tryal | ||