Sion in distress or, the groans of the Protestant chruch [by Benjamin Keach] |
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A Complaint against Hypocrites.
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 | Sion in distress |  |
A Complaint against Hypocrites.
I am not onely persecuted by
My Open Foes, but Lurking Snakes do lie
Within my Bosom, using all their Art
To seiz my Vitals, and corrode my Heart.
Such seeming Friends, such Traytors in disguise,
Are more malignant then known Enemies:
For the Attaques of These, a man may ward;
Those, unsuspected, stand within our Guard.
How many seem to reverence my Name
For worldly Ends, or to avoid the shame
Of Irreligion? Frequently they go
To worship God, and so devout do show,
As if meer Saints; but, Hypocrites in grain,
Do all the while Intelligence maintain
With my declared Foes, who proudly joyn,
And all their Politicks in one combine,
To root my Name from off the very Earth,
And make provision that no more get Birth.
Betray'd by middle, and by low Degrees,
But most of all by Capital Grandees.
Such as my Peace and Safety should procure,
Contribute most to make me Unsecure:
Such seem their purpose by soft words to smother:
So Boatsmen look one way, but row another.
Such perjur'd Satesmen have the Art to smile
Upon my Face, but cut my Throat the while.
But grant, Dread Soveraign of the Universe,
That whilst I weep my Grievances in Verse,
Thy Sion's Interest may not be betray'd
To Rome, by Protestants in Masquerade.
O let me hear the Joyful Trumpet sounded,
That does proclaim their Babylon confounded.
My Open Foes, but Lurking Snakes do lie
Within my Bosom, using all their Art
To seiz my Vitals, and corrode my Heart.
Such seeming Friends, such Traytors in disguise,
Are more malignant then known Enemies:
For the Attaques of These, a man may ward;
Those, unsuspected, stand within our Guard.
How many seem to reverence my Name
For worldly Ends, or to avoid the shame
Of Irreligion? Frequently they go
To worship God, and so devout do show,
As if meer Saints; but, Hypocrites in grain,
Do all the while Intelligence maintain
With my declared Foes, who proudly joyn,
And all their Politicks in one combine,
To root my Name from off the very Earth,
And make provision that no more get Birth.
Betray'd by middle, and by low Degrees,
But most of all by Capital Grandees.
Such as my Peace and Safety should procure,
Contribute most to make me Unsecure:
Such seem their purpose by soft words to smother:
So Boatsmen look one way, but row another.
Such perjur'd Satesmen have the Art to smile
Upon my Face, but cut my Throat the while.
19
That whilst I weep my Grievances in Verse,
Thy Sion's Interest may not be betray'd
To Rome, by Protestants in Masquerade.
O let me hear the Joyful Trumpet sounded,
That does proclaim their Babylon confounded.
Rome's black Militia is all up in Arms,
Annoying Europe in unusual Swarms.
This critick moment they expect and hope
To thrust Me out, and introduce a Pope,
To plague this Noble Nation, that has been
A Wall, a Fort, a Counterscarp between
Their bauling Canon's most impetuous shots,
And forraign Saints; that countermines their Plots.
The desp'rate Archers are aware of this,
They know that England the chief Bulwark is,
To check their growth: If they could make it sup
Th'invenom'd dregs of th'Antichristian Cup,
They judge it easie to subdue the rest
Of my European Gospel-Interest.
Annoying Europe in unusual Swarms.
This critick moment they expect and hope
To thrust Me out, and introduce a Pope,
To plague this Noble Nation, that has been
A Wall, a Fort, a Counterscarp between
Their bauling Canon's most impetuous shots,
And forraign Saints; that countermines their Plots.
The desp'rate Archers are aware of this,
They know that England the chief Bulwark is,
To check their growth: If they could make it sup
Th'invenom'd dregs of th'Antichristian Cup,
They judge it easie to subdue the rest
Of my European Gospel-Interest.
But O my melting Soul-tormenting Fears!
Burst into Sighs, and bubble into Tears!
Observe the Heavens! View that dreadful Mark
Of flaming Vengeance, that precedes the dark
Approach of Night! Can this vast Comet be
Ought but the Prologue of Calamity?
Prodigious Meteors, blazing fiery Stars,
Are Heralds sent to menace open Wars
Against rebellious and polluted Coasts,
By Him who is the mighty Lord of Hosts.
Awake O England! this Lethargick Sleep
Is out of Season, 'tis a time to weep;
If guilty Children tremble at the Rod,
Can you be stupid when the Angry God
Sets up this dreadful Ensign of his Wrath?
Rouze up Repentance, let a lively Faith
Now go to work; See how the Preaching Air
Instead of Sinning, does exhort to prayer;
For thy Fantastick Garbs, Perfumes and all
Thy other Trash, it doth for Sackcloth call:
From Carnal Sports it bids thee quickly get,
Calls from the Taverns to the Mercy-Seat.
From that accursed Rendezvous of Lust
It bids thee hasten, and repent in Dust.
Have not th'Experience of past Ages given
Their sad Remarks upon those Signs in Heaven?
What follow'd still, but certain Spoil of Nations?
Plagues, Fire and Sword, and other Devastations?
The sure Eversion of some Potent Crown;
The Death of Heroes, Monarchs tumbled down.
Burst into Sighs, and bubble into Tears!
Observe the Heavens! View that dreadful Mark
Of flaming Vengeance, that precedes the dark
Approach of Night! Can this vast Comet be
Ought but the Prologue of Calamity?
Prodigious Meteors, blazing fiery Stars,
Are Heralds sent to menace open Wars
Against rebellious and polluted Coasts,
By Him who is the mighty Lord of Hosts.
20
Is out of Season, 'tis a time to weep;
If guilty Children tremble at the Rod,
Can you be stupid when the Angry God
Sets up this dreadful Ensign of his Wrath?
Rouze up Repentance, let a lively Faith
Now go to work; See how the Preaching Air
Instead of Sinning, does exhort to prayer;
For thy Fantastick Garbs, Perfumes and all
Thy other Trash, it doth for Sackcloth call:
From Carnal Sports it bids thee quickly get,
Calls from the Taverns to the Mercy-Seat.
From that accursed Rendezvous of Lust
It bids thee hasten, and repent in Dust.
Have not th'Experience of past Ages given
Their sad Remarks upon those Signs in Heaven?
What follow'd still, but certain Spoil of Nations?
Plagues, Fire and Sword, and other Devastations?
The sure Eversion of some Potent Crown;
The Death of Heroes, Monarchs tumbled down.
But thou Illustrious Architect of Wonder,
Remove the Sorrows which I labour under.
Does this Amazing Prodigy betoken
That Rampant Babel shall be quickly broken?
Does it portend that Antichrist shall break
In pieces, striving to destroy the Weak
Remains that on this blessed Name do Call?
Or dos't presage, that (trembling) I shall fall?
Lord, canst thou see thy pleasant Vineyard Tore,
And rooted up, by this rapacious Boar?
Or have my Childrens crying Sins provok'd
That dismal Sentence, not to be revok'd?
(Gods Methods were to chasten, not destroy
Those Sinning Souls in whom he once took joy)
O give thy Sinking Church a true discerning
What thou dost mean by this prodigious Warning;
That by thy Spirits sacred Flame calcin'd,
By Scourges mended, and by heat refin'd,
We may find Grace. But oh! My Spirits faint
Under the Pressure of my Great Complaint!
My panting Soul another grief doth feel,
My feeble Knees beneath their burden Reel.
Remove the Sorrows which I labour under.
Does this Amazing Prodigy betoken
That Rampant Babel shall be quickly broken?
Does it portend that Antichrist shall break
In pieces, striving to destroy the Weak
Remains that on this blessed Name do Call?
Or dos't presage, that (trembling) I shall fall?
Lord, canst thou see thy pleasant Vineyard Tore,
And rooted up, by this rapacious Boar?
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That dismal Sentence, not to be revok'd?
(Gods Methods were to chasten, not destroy
Those Sinning Souls in whom he once took joy)
O give thy Sinking Church a true discerning
What thou dost mean by this prodigious Warning;
That by thy Spirits sacred Flame calcin'd,
By Scourges mended, and by heat refin'd,
We may find Grace. But oh! My Spirits faint
Under the Pressure of my Great Complaint!
My panting Soul another grief doth feel,
My feeble Knees beneath their burden Reel.
| Sion in distress | |