The Glorious Lover A Divine Poem, Upon the Adorable Mystery of Sinners Redemption. By B. K. [i.e. Benjamin Keach] |
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 | I. |
| II. | BOOK II. |
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| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
 | The Glorious Lover |  |
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BOOK II.
Behind this Curtain Reader suppose to besuch Glory, which no mortal eyes can see
Besides, the Day being superstitious too,
If wee know more yet more wee dare not do
see Death and Devils, sin & World cast down
Whilst Heaven doth the glorious Victor crown
CHAP. I.
Shewing how Christ renews his Suit again and again, which is done either by the ministration of the Gospel, or by his various Providences, and yet the Soul refuses to receive him.
Thus have you heard a Sacred Story told,
Fill'd full of Wonders, Wonders, which unfold
Such depths of Wisdom, depths of Grace and Love.
Which none can comprehend, it is above
The reach of men; no knowledg is so high
That can conceive of it; nay, Angels pry
Into this thing, this Myst'ry is so deep,
It all the glorious Seraphims doth keep
In holy admiration, they'r amaz'd
To see how all the Attributes are rais'd
In equal Glory, and do sweetly shine
In their own proper Sphere, alike divine.
Here by diviner Art you all may find
What was in our great God's eternal mind,
Before the Earth's foundation long was laid,
Or e're bright Sol his glorious beams display'd,
Respecting Man, whom he foresaw would fall,
And bring his Soul thereby into sad thral:
Here may you with much ease and joy espy
The great result of the blest Trinity.
In that eternal Council held above,
About the Soul, the object of Christ's Love.
Here also, here's a proof of true affection,
And how to love from hence let's take direction.
Who ever had or shew'd such love as he,
Who for his Love was nailed to the Tree?
Fill'd full of Wonders, Wonders, which unfold
Such depths of Wisdom, depths of Grace and Love.
Which none can comprehend, it is above
The reach of men; no knowledg is so high
That can conceive of it; nay, Angels pry
Into this thing, this Myst'ry is so deep,
It all the glorious Seraphims doth keep
In holy admiration, they'r amaz'd
To see how all the Attributes are rais'd
150
In their own proper Sphere, alike divine.
Here by diviner Art you all may find
What was in our great God's eternal mind,
Before the Earth's foundation long was laid,
Or e're bright Sol his glorious beams display'd,
Respecting Man, whom he foresaw would fall,
And bring his Soul thereby into sad thral:
Here may you with much ease and joy espy
The great result of the blest Trinity.
In that eternal Council held above,
About the Soul, the object of Christ's Love.
Here also, here's a proof of true affection,
And how to love from hence let's take direction.
Who ever had or shew'd such love as he,
Who for his Love was nailed to the Tree?
But, hark! some do enquire, they long to hear
What is become of th' Soul he loves so dear?
Lo, from the Grave he's come, he looks about,
He searches every place to find her out.
What, is she fled! and where? in what strange Isle
Of clouds and darkness lurks she all this while?
What is become of th' Soul he loves so dear?
Lo, from the Grave he's come, he looks about,
He searches every place to find her out.
What, is she fled! and where? in what strange Isle
Of clouds and darkness lurks she all this while?
Good Reader, urge me not, I'le let thee hear
That which may melt thy Soul into a tear.
Excuse my Pen for what its lines shall speak.
Such Marble hearts as cannot melt, must break.
To leave off here, I'm sure it is not fit,
Nor would I write what you would have unwrit.
But since it doth upon the Soul reflect,
It matters not how much we do detect
The folly which doth in the Sinner lie,
When Soveraign Grace exalted is thereby.
My Heart and Pen seem both to be at strife,
To paint unkindness forth unto the life.
Wilt Thou, who dost the Muses aid, afford
Divine assistance, that each pow'rful word
May rend a heart at least, and every line
Turn Kingdoms and whole Nations into brine
Of their own tears? teach me, O Lord, the skil
T' extract the spirit of grief, O let my Quil,
Like Moses Rod, make Adamants to fly,
That tears may gush like Rivers from each eye.
How can it once be thought that such a Friend,
Who loveth thus, doth thus his love commend,
And in such sort so strangely condescend,
Should when all's done by her contemned be,
Though he's most high, and she of base degree?
The grand design, the end and reason why
This Prince from Heaven came, was scourg'd, did die,
Was to redeem the Soul, and so endeavour
To get her love, and marry her for ever,
As is before declar'd. But will you hear
How things are carry'd, how they manag'd are?
The time is come, you'l find, by what ensues
That this great Lord his Suit a-fresh renews.
When Sacred Love runs thus with greatest force,
What pity is't ought should disturb its course?
How can the Soul refuse to entertain
A Lover, which for her with shame was slain?
But stop again, my Muse, thou must give o're,
The Prince is come, lo he is at her door.
That which may melt thy Soul into a tear.
Excuse my Pen for what its lines shall speak.
Such Marble hearts as cannot melt, must break.
To leave off here, I'm sure it is not fit,
Nor would I write what you would have unwrit.
But since it doth upon the Soul reflect,
It matters not how much we do detect
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When Soveraign Grace exalted is thereby.
My Heart and Pen seem both to be at strife,
To paint unkindness forth unto the life.
Wilt Thou, who dost the Muses aid, afford
Divine assistance, that each pow'rful word
May rend a heart at least, and every line
Turn Kingdoms and whole Nations into brine
Of their own tears? teach me, O Lord, the skil
T' extract the spirit of grief, O let my Quil,
Like Moses Rod, make Adamants to fly,
That tears may gush like Rivers from each eye.
How can it once be thought that such a Friend,
Who loveth thus, doth thus his love commend,
And in such sort so strangely condescend,
Should when all's done by her contemned be,
Though he's most high, and she of base degree?
The grand design, the end and reason why
This Prince from Heaven came, was scourg'd, did die,
Was to redeem the Soul, and so endeavour
To get her love, and marry her for ever,
As is before declar'd. But will you hear
How things are carry'd, how they manag'd are?
The time is come, you'l find, by what ensues
That this great Lord his Suit a-fresh renews.
When Sacred Love runs thus with greatest force,
What pity is't ought should disturb its course?
How can the Soul refuse to entertain
A Lover, which for her with shame was slain?
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The Prince is come, lo he is at her door.
Most precious Soul! I now am come again,
Behold 'tis I, who for thee have been slain.
How is't with thee, hast thou not heard the news,
What for thy sake I suffer'd by the Jews?
That through a Sea of blood, and sorrows great,
I now am come with bowels to intreat
Thee to embrace the offer I present.
And, first of all, with tears do thou repent
That ever thou hast entertained Sin,
That has to me so very bitter bin.
Soul.
Repent! This is a melancholly strain;
It suits with such whose lives are fill'd with pain,
And guilty are of some notorious crime,
Whose glass is near run out, whose precious time
Draws to an end; 'tis good for such indeed
To look about them, and repent with speed:
But thus 'tis not with me, I know no sorrow
I'le wave that work, I'le wave it till to morrow;
To morrow, I mean, till some fitter season:
I see no cause, alas, I know no reason
To hark to thoughts that may disturb my peace,
When joys abound, and sweat delights increase.
Repent! of what strange kind of voice shall I
Amazed stand, yet can no danger spy.
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No reason why! Ah Soul, art still so blind,
Wounded from head to foot, and canst thou find
No ground of grief, no cause to lay to heart
Thy horrid guilt, nor yet the bitter smart
Which I indur'd for thee, to prevent
Severer Wrath, severer punishment,
And dost not savour this sweet word, Repent?
'Tis well there's room, a call, a season fit;
There's thousand Souls who are denied it.
Dar'st, dar'st adventure still to live in Sin?
What, crucifie thy dying Lord agin!
Were not my pangs sufficient? must I bleed
Afresh? O must thy sinful pleasures feed
Upon my torments? and augment the story
Of the sad passion of the Lord of Glory?
Is there no pity in thee? what, no remorse
Within thy breast? Seek, seek a firm divorce
Betwixt thy self and Sin; do thy endeavour
To break that league, depart, depart for ever.
Did I not suffer to dissolve the knot
Between thee and all Lust? and wilt thou not
Regard me now, but entertain my Foe?
What, cruel unto me, and thy self too!
I prethee, Soul, bethink thy self, and yield,
And let thy Lovers for my sake be kill'd;
Ah, let them die, who if they live, will be
Thy death at last, who have bin death to me.
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Those joys are sweet, which do delight my heart;
Ah! how can I and sinful Objects part?
Must gainful Lusts, and those which honour's yield,
At once be put to th' Sword? And those be kill'd
Which so much pleasure unto me afford?
How can it be? alas, it is too hard:
The thoughts of it's a perfect death to me;
Lord, say no more, I cannot yield to thee.
Jesus.
Ah! Didst thou know, poor Soul, what 'tis to sin,
And how my Soul for it has tortur'd bin,
Thou wouldst revenged be on it, I'm sure,
And a divorcement speedily procure.
Or, didst thou know what grief it is to me
To be contemned and despis'd by thee;
Such churlish Answers wouldst thou not return
To him, whose soul in fervent love do's burn
To thee, poor wretch, and only for thy good,
'Tis that I seek, and sought with tears of blood.
Once more I ask thy love, I cannot leave thee,
Until my everlasting Arms receive thee.
Soul.
If I may have those pleasures which delight me,
Whose amorous glances sweetly do invite me
To love them dear, who stollen have my heart,
I am contented thou shouldst have some part
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And I resolve to take some part of it.
Jesus.
Ungrateful Soul! did I not wholly give
My self for thee? and shall I now receive
A piece of thine, nay but a little part,
That have deserved more than a whole heart:
'Tis all the heart, or none; do'st think it fit
Sin and the Devil should have part of it?
Would any Lover such strange love receive,
To be contented that his Spouse should have,
Some other Suiters, and to them should cleave?
What sayst, deceived Soul? why standst thou mute?
Disclose thy inward thoughts, and grant my Suit.
O speak! or, if thy doubtful mind be bent
To silence, let that silence be consent.
If thou wilt grant me that whole heart of thine;
We'l exchange hearts, I'le give thee all of mine.
She look'd about, she mus'd, she paus'd a while,
Whilst he on her cast forth an Heav'nly smile;
Sweet rays of Glory glanced from his Eye,
Enough to ravish all the standers-by;
So great a lustre from his garments shone,
It dazl'd all weak eyes to look upon.
Like as the Sun his glorious beams displays,
Dispersing every way his sparkling rays,
When in his strength & splendor bright doth shine,
So glister'd forth his Glory all Divine.
Ne're such a beauty carnal eyes beheld.
Ah! one sweet sight of him has wholly fill'd
The greatest Soul that liv'd, and there is still
Enough in him millions of Hearts to fill.
And none but Him alone can satisfie
The Soul of Man, the Soul-enlightned eye.
But stay and hear the Answer which is given
By the deceived Soul. O let the Heaven
And Earth astonish'd stand, whilst stubborn she
Deny'd his Suit, will not persuaded be
To o'pe her door, who longs to enter in,
To fill her Soul with joy, destroy her sin.
Soul.
Whilst he on her cast forth an Heav'nly smile;
Sweet rays of Glory glanced from his Eye,
Enough to ravish all the standers-by;
So great a lustre from his garments shone,
It dazl'd all weak eyes to look upon.
Like as the Sun his glorious beams displays,
Dispersing every way his sparkling rays,
When in his strength & splendor bright doth shine,
So glister'd forth his Glory all Divine.
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Ah! one sweet sight of him has wholly fill'd
The greatest Soul that liv'd, and there is still
Enough in him millions of Hearts to fill.
And none but Him alone can satisfie
The Soul of Man, the Soul-enlightned eye.
But stay and hear the Answer which is given
By the deceived Soul. O let the Heaven
And Earth astonish'd stand, whilst stubborn she
Deny'd his Suit, will not persuaded be
To o'pe her door, who longs to enter in,
To fill her Soul with joy, destroy her sin.
Strange 'tis to me such beauty should be there!
What, so amazing glorious, none so fair!
When I no loveliness in him can see
The World, and outward pleasures, seem to me
More rare and spriteful, far the better choice;
Such things I like: but for this Lover's voice,
His Face and Favour I ca'nt so esteem,
Nor can I leave all things for love of him.
Therefore be gone, and cease thy suit; for I
Have fixt my mind elswhere, my heart and eye
Is set on that which outward eyes can see.
Lord, let me not be troubl'd more with thee.
O stay, my Muse! reach me an Iron Pen,
T' engrave this on the marble hearts of men.
Let Sinners look within, then let them read
Themselves ungrateful, blind, and dark indeed.
Would not each Soul conclude this Creature were
Besides her self, or else deserv'd to bear
The great'st contempt, and pity'd be by none,
That bids such a dear Lover to be gone?
How oft has he by precious motives try'd
The Soul from sin and evil to divide,
And make her too obdurat heart relent,
And take such ways as Wisdom do's invent?
His Passions, Sighs and Tears are ready still,
As the officious agents of his Will,
To work her to a sence of her estate:
But she's (alas) so dark and desperate,
That his sweet voice, of so divine a strain,
So moving, mov'd her, but seems all in vain.
He sighs for her, he knows her sad distress,
He asks her love, but still without success.
Ah Sinners! view your rocky hearts, and then
Smite on your breasts, lament, and read agen.
The glorious Lord his love's so strange, so great,
He knows not how to think of a retreat.
His soul is griev'd, yet takes not her denial,
But makes a new Essay, another Trial.
Jesus.
T' engrave this on the marble hearts of men.
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Themselves ungrateful, blind, and dark indeed.
Would not each Soul conclude this Creature were
Besides her self, or else deserv'd to bear
The great'st contempt, and pity'd be by none,
That bids such a dear Lover to be gone?
How oft has he by precious motives try'd
The Soul from sin and evil to divide,
And make her too obdurat heart relent,
And take such ways as Wisdom do's invent?
His Passions, Sighs and Tears are ready still,
As the officious agents of his Will,
To work her to a sence of her estate:
But she's (alas) so dark and desperate,
That his sweet voice, of so divine a strain,
So moving, mov'd her, but seems all in vain.
He sighs for her, he knows her sad distress,
He asks her love, but still without success.
Ah Sinners! view your rocky hearts, and then
Smite on your breasts, lament, and read agen.
The glorious Lord his love's so strange, so great,
He knows not how to think of a retreat.
His soul is griev'd, yet takes not her denial,
But makes a new Essay, another Trial.
Did, did I love thee from Eternity?
And my celestial Kingdom leave for thee?
Did I Man's humane nature freely take?
Did I my bed in a poor Manger make?
Did I engage the cruel'st of all Foes?
Did I from men and Devils meet with blows?
Did I such kind of tortures undergoe
Which men nor Angels can't conceive or know?
Did Wrath pursue, and Justice fall on me?
And did I bear it all for love to thee?
Ah! did I sweat great drops of Sacred Blood,
Until the ground was sprinkled where I stood?
And were my feet and hands nail'd to the Tree,
Whilst my dear Father hid his Face from me?
Have I with joy, delight, and chearful heart
Indur'd all this excessive pain and smart,
And out of precious love to thee I bore?
And must I still be kept out of thy door?
And my celestial Kingdom leave for thee?
Did I Man's humane nature freely take?
Did I my bed in a poor Manger make?
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Did I from men and Devils meet with blows?
Did I such kind of tortures undergoe
Which men nor Angels can't conceive or know?
Did Wrath pursue, and Justice fall on me?
And did I bear it all for love to thee?
Ah! did I sweat great drops of Sacred Blood,
Until the ground was sprinkled where I stood?
And were my feet and hands nail'd to the Tree,
Whilst my dear Father hid his Face from me?
Have I with joy, delight, and chearful heart
Indur'd all this excessive pain and smart,
And out of precious love to thee I bore?
And must I still be kept out of thy door?
Shall, shall I leave thee then, and take my flight
Into some foreign Land, and let the Night
Of dismal darkness be thy lot for ever,
Where direful Wrath all graceless souls do sever
From all sweet shines of my Eternal Face,
That thou mayst there bewail with shame thy case?
When shades of frightful darkness thee do cover,
Thou wilt condole the loss of such a Lover;
Must I be gone, must I my farewel take
And leave thee to thy self? my heart doth ake
To think upon thy state, when I do leave thee;
Far rather would I have these Arms receive thee.
What, slight a Saviour thus, a Friend indeed,
An early Friend, a Friend, who chose to bleed
For thee, and in thy stead, that so thereby
He might enjoy thee to Eternitie!
Farewel, false Soul, I bid thee now adieu;
Take what will follow, dread what will insue.
Grief, sorrows, sickness and a troubled mind,
Will thee pursue, until thou com'st to find
A changed heart; and vengeance do's allot
Ruin to those thou lov'st, who love thee not.
I'le kill them all who have insnar'd thy heart,
Before from thee for ever I depart.
Ah! how my Soul with a tempestuous tide
Of tears is overwhelm'd, whilst I'm deny'd
My Suit by thee! my passions overflow
To see thee slight me, and my passion too:
What, tread me underfoot! whilst vanity,
And worldly joys, are Jewels in thine eye!
As if best good, and sweet'st content lay hid
In that gay fruit, which is alone forbid.
Into some foreign Land, and let the Night
Of dismal darkness be thy lot for ever,
Where direful Wrath all graceless souls do sever
From all sweet shines of my Eternal Face,
That thou mayst there bewail with shame thy case?
When shades of frightful darkness thee do cover,
Thou wilt condole the loss of such a Lover;
Must I be gone, must I my farewel take
And leave thee to thy self? my heart doth ake
To think upon thy state, when I do leave thee;
Far rather would I have these Arms receive thee.
What, slight a Saviour thus, a Friend indeed,
An early Friend, a Friend, who chose to bleed
For thee, and in thy stead, that so thereby
He might enjoy thee to Eternitie!
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Take what will follow, dread what will insue.
Grief, sorrows, sickness and a troubled mind,
Will thee pursue, until thou com'st to find
A changed heart; and vengeance do's allot
Ruin to those thou lov'st, who love thee not.
I'le kill them all who have insnar'd thy heart,
Before from thee for ever I depart.
Ah! how my Soul with a tempestuous tide
Of tears is overwhelm'd, whilst I'm deny'd
My Suit by thee! my passions overflow
To see thee slight me, and my passion too:
What, tread me underfoot! whilst vanity,
And worldly joys, are Jewels in thine eye!
As if best good, and sweet'st content lay hid
In that gay fruit, which is alone forbid.
He woo's, the Soul says no; he still replies;
He sweetly sues, she wickedly denies.
He woos afresh, she answers with disdain,
I cannot love, but he intreats again.
At last he leaves her, and his Suit adjourns;
He views the Soul, and griev'd, away returns:
He bids farewel, and yet he bids it so,
As if he knew not how to take her No.
He bids farewel, but 'tis as if delay
Did promise better farewels, than his stay.
He now withdraws, but 'tis with a design
His absence might her heart the more incline
To th' love and liking of him, or to see
What by some other means perform'd may be.
As Lovers often times by rules of Art
Devise new ways to gain upon the heart
Of such they love, to bring them to their bow;
Like things sometimes doth Jesus also do.
T' incline the Sinners heart, he hides his face,
And brings them into a distressed case.
He lays them on sick beds, for to discover
The worth and need of such a Sacred Lover.
Poor Sinners, ponder well what you do read,
And mind those thoughts which woo you to take heed
How you neglect & slight the day of Grace,
Or to base lusts and vain delights give place.
Now sickness comes, & Death begins to fright her,
And 'tis no marvel if the Lord do slight her.
Her drousy Conscience also now awakes;
Alas, she startl'd much, she weeps, she quakes,
She crys out for a Christ, but non's in sight,
And all her other Lovers fail her quite.
She yields, she loves, but with a servile heart,
When other Lovers slight her and depart.
She loves thee not, Lord Christ, for what thou art,
But what thou hast: and should she spared be,
She'd shew her love to Sin, more than to thee.
He sweetly sues, she wickedly denies.
He woos afresh, she answers with disdain,
I cannot love, but he intreats again.
At last he leaves her, and his Suit adjourns;
He views the Soul, and griev'd, away returns:
He bids farewel, and yet he bids it so,
As if he knew not how to take her No.
He bids farewel, but 'tis as if delay
Did promise better farewels, than his stay.
He now withdraws, but 'tis with a design
His absence might her heart the more incline
To th' love and liking of him, or to see
What by some other means perform'd may be.
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Devise new ways to gain upon the heart
Of such they love, to bring them to their bow;
Like things sometimes doth Jesus also do.
T' incline the Sinners heart, he hides his face,
And brings them into a distressed case.
He lays them on sick beds, for to discover
The worth and need of such a Sacred Lover.
Poor Sinners, ponder well what you do read,
And mind those thoughts which woo you to take heed
How you neglect & slight the day of Grace,
Or to base lusts and vain delights give place.
Now sickness comes, & Death begins to fright her,
And 'tis no marvel if the Lord do slight her.
Her drousy Conscience also now awakes;
Alas, she startl'd much, she weeps, she quakes,
She crys out for a Christ, but non's in sight,
And all her other Lovers fail her quite.
She yields, she loves, but with a servile heart,
When other Lovers slight her and depart.
She loves thee not, Lord Christ, for what thou art,
But what thou hast: and should she spared be,
She'd shew her love to Sin, more than to thee.
No sooner the sad Soul her state laments,
But bowels mov'd in Jesus, he relents.
In her afflictions, he's afflicted too,
And can't be long e're he'l compassions shew.
He sent relief, he eas'd her of her pain,
And rais'd her up to former health again.
But as 'twas hinted, so it came to pass,
The wretched Soul proves vile as ere she was.
Affliction will not bring to Jesus's feet,
Unless great Pow'r do go along with it.
The Soul's like Phar'oh: crys when smitten sore;
Then, then for Christ, and O 'twill sin no more!
But when rais'd up, and has sweet health restor'd,
It cleavs to Sin afresh, forgets the Lord.
But the affections of the Prince of Peace
Abated not, but rather did increase.
His love and patience both alike shine forth,
To 'stonishment of all who live on Earth.
And that he might obtain the Soul at last,
His Servants call'd and sent away in hast
To recommend his love, and in his stead
To o'pe those precious Glories, which lie hid
To her and to all those who carnal be:
Alas! they ca'nt behold, they cannot see
Those high perfections which in Jesus are,
Nor can they think his beauty is so rare,
Exceeding all conception, all compare.
But bowels mov'd in Jesus, he relents.
In her afflictions, he's afflicted too,
And can't be long e're he'l compassions shew.
He sent relief, he eas'd her of her pain,
And rais'd her up to former health again.
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The wretched Soul proves vile as ere she was.
Affliction will not bring to Jesus's feet,
Unless great Pow'r do go along with it.
The Soul's like Phar'oh: crys when smitten sore;
Then, then for Christ, and O 'twill sin no more!
But when rais'd up, and has sweet health restor'd,
It cleavs to Sin afresh, forgets the Lord.
But the affections of the Prince of Peace
Abated not, but rather did increase.
His love and patience both alike shine forth,
To 'stonishment of all who live on Earth.
And that he might obtain the Soul at last,
His Servants call'd and sent away in hast
To recommend his love, and in his stead
To o'pe those precious Glories, which lie hid
To her and to all those who carnal be:
Alas! they ca'nt behold, they cannot see
Those high perfections which in Jesus are,
Nor can they think his beauty is so rare,
Exceeding all conception, all compare.
Dear Reader, prethee mark what here insues
Mind, mind the Arguments this man dos use
To move the Soul to tears of true contrition,
Fetch'd from Christ's love, and from her lost condition.
Mind, mind the Arguments this man dos use
To move the Soul to tears of true contrition,
Fetch'd from Christ's love, and from her lost condition.
Theologue.
By Jesus sent! by such a Prince as he!
Ah! 'tis a work too great, too high for me.
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Thou do'st imploy, thy secrets to disclose!
What! be a Spokesman for a Prince so great,
To represent his Love, and to entreat
Poor Sinners in his stead, to entertain
His Sacred Person! Lord, I'le try again
(Since thou command'st me forth) what may be done;
Thou bidst me go, my duty is to run.
Did Abraham's Servant readily comply
With his Command with great'st fidelity?
And shall I be unfaithful unto thee?
No, Lord, I will not; do but strengthen me,
Prosper my way, and let me have success,
That I with him thy Sacred Name may bless;
And how I shall I, poor nothing I, rejoice
To see the Soul, thy Spouse, thy Father's choice.
What next thy love's so sweet, Lord, unto me,
Than to bring in poor Sinners unto thee?
CHAP. II.
Shewing the evil of Sin, and how compar'd.
Hail, precious Soul! once glorious, noble born,
But now debas'd, defil'd, in garments torn;
Nay, naked quite, yet mindst it not at all;
Thy wounds do stink, and Vipers in them crawl.
So many sins of which thou guilty art,
So many Serpents cleave unto thy heart.
What's Sin? is't not a frightful Cockatrice?
No Serpent like the Serpent called Vice.
And dost thou love to play with such a thing?
Ah fool! take heed, view, view its poisonous sting.
Brute Beasts by Natur's instinct are aware
Of the gilt bait and sence-beguiling snare,
Though it seems ne'r so sweet, or ne'r so fair.
And art thou such a fool to hug a Snake,
And in thy breast such great provision make,
That it may harbour there both day and night?
Ah! Couldst thou see, or hadst a little sight,
'Twould soon appear a very loath'd delight.
No evil like the evil called Sin,
Which thou dost love, which thou tak'st pleasure in.
But now debas'd, defil'd, in garments torn;
Nay, naked quite, yet mindst it not at all;
Thy wounds do stink, and Vipers in them crawl.
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So many Serpents cleave unto thy heart.
What's Sin? is't not a frightful Cockatrice?
No Serpent like the Serpent called Vice.
And dost thou love to play with such a thing?
Ah fool! take heed, view, view its poisonous sting.
Brute Beasts by Natur's instinct are aware
Of the gilt bait and sence-beguiling snare,
Though it seems ne'r so sweet, or ne'r so fair.
And art thou such a fool to hug a Snake,
And in thy breast such great provision make,
That it may harbour there both day and night?
Ah! Couldst thou see, or hadst a little sight,
'Twould soon appear a very loath'd delight.
No evil like the evil called Sin,
Which thou dost love, which thou tak'st pleasure in.
For what is Sin, is't not a deadly evil,
The filthy spawn and off-spring of the Devil?
And is thy mind on folly wholly bent?
What, love the Devils odious excrement!
Shall that which is the superfluity
Of naughtiness, be lovely in thine Eye?
What, dost thou value Christ, and all he hath
Not worth vain joys and pleasures on the Earth?
Has he so much esteemed thee? and must
Thou value him less than a cursed Lust?
Dost thou more good in that foul Brat espy,
Than is in all the glorious Trinitie?
That which men judge is best, they strive to chuse,
Things of the smallest value they refuse.
O wretched Soul! what thoughts dost thou retain
Of thy dear Lord and blessed Soveraign?
Come, view thy choice, see how deprav'd thou art
In judgment, will, affection, thy whole heart
Is so corrupt, defiled, and impure,
Thou canst not Christ, nor Godliness indure.
The filthy spawn and off-spring of the Devil?
And is thy mind on folly wholly bent?
What, love the Devils odious excrement!
Shall that which is the superfluity
Of naughtiness, be lovely in thine Eye?
What, dost thou value Christ, and all he hath
Not worth vain joys and pleasures on the Earth?
Has he so much esteemed thee? and must
Thou value him less than a cursed Lust?
Dost thou more good in that foul Brat espy,
Than is in all the glorious Trinitie?
That which men judge is best, they strive to chuse,
Things of the smallest value they refuse.
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Of thy dear Lord and blessed Soveraign?
Come, view thy choice, see how deprav'd thou art
In judgment, will, affection, thy whole heart
Is so corrupt, defiled, and impure,
Thou canst not Christ, nor Godliness indure.
Again, what's Sin? is't not a trait'rous Foe,
A Traytor unto God, and Rebel too?
It first of all against him took up Arms,
And made his Angels fall by its false charms.
Nought is so contrary to God as that,
Nor more the perfect object of his hate.
The Devil was God's Creature, good at first;
'Twas sin that made him hateful and accurst.
Sin ne'r was good, its essence is impure;
Evil at first, so now, so will indure.
And darest thou, O Soul, conceal this Foe?
Nay, hide him in thy house, and also show
Such deared love to him, as to delight
In his base company both day and night?
Nay, sport and play, and merry be with him;
What Gods dos hate and loath, dost thou esteem?
Dost not, O Soul, deserve for this to die?
What greater crime, what greater enmity
Canst thou be guilty of, or canst thou show,
Than thus to harbour God's most traitrous Foe?
The chiefest room he can always command,
Whilst my dear Master at thy door must stand,
And can't one look, nor one sweet smile obtain,
Who is thy Saviour, and thy Soveraign.
A Traytor unto God, and Rebel too?
It first of all against him took up Arms,
And made his Angels fall by its false charms.
Nought is so contrary to God as that,
Nor more the perfect object of his hate.
The Devil was God's Creature, good at first;
'Twas sin that made him hateful and accurst.
Sin ne'r was good, its essence is impure;
Evil at first, so now, so will indure.
And darest thou, O Soul, conceal this Foe?
Nay, hide him in thy house, and also show
Such deared love to him, as to delight
In his base company both day and night?
Nay, sport and play, and merry be with him;
What Gods dos hate and loath, dost thou esteem?
Dost not, O Soul, deserve for this to die?
What greater crime, what greater enmity
Canst thou be guilty of, or canst thou show,
Than thus to harbour God's most traitrous Foe?
The chiefest room he can always command,
Whilst my dear Master at thy door must stand,
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Who is thy Saviour, and thy Soveraign.
What's Sin? a thing that's worser than the Devil.
Sin made him so, sin is a thing so evil,
'Tis worse than Hell, it dug that horrid pit,
'Tis sin that casts all Sinners into it.
No lake of Fire, no Tophet had there bin
For souls of Men nor Devils, but through sin:
'Tis that which lays them there heap upon heap,
Sin was the cause 'twas made so large and deep.
Sin is the fuel that augments Hell-fire;
Wer't not for sin, Hell-flames would soon expire.
And wilt thou dandle sin still on thy knee?
Wilt make a mock of it? wilt jolly be?
Wilt sin and say, alas! I am in sport?
Ah! see thy folly, ere thou pay'st dear for 't.
Is sin God's foe? and is it so to thee?
Then part with sin, break that affinitie:
Dissolve the knot with speed, do thy endeavour;
Which will destroy thee otherwise for ever.
Sin made him so, sin is a thing so evil,
'Tis worse than Hell, it dug that horrid pit,
'Tis sin that casts all Sinners into it.
No lake of Fire, no Tophet had there bin
For souls of Men nor Devils, but through sin:
'Tis that which lays them there heap upon heap,
Sin was the cause 'twas made so large and deep.
Sin is the fuel that augments Hell-fire;
Wer't not for sin, Hell-flames would soon expire.
And wilt thou dandle sin still on thy knee?
Wilt make a mock of it? wilt jolly be?
Wilt sin and say, alas! I am in sport?
Ah! see thy folly, ere thou pay'st dear for 't.
Is sin God's foe? and is it so to thee?
Then part with sin, break that affinitie:
Dissolve the knot with speed, do thy endeavour;
Which will destroy thee otherwise for ever.
Nay, what is Sin? it is a Leprosy:
When Scripture so compares it, may not I
Call it a sickness, or a loathsom sore,
That quite covers the Soul, and spreads all o're,
Like to an Ulcer, or infectious Biles,
That do corrupt, that poisons and defiles
The Soul afflicted, and all others too
That dwell with him, or have with him to do?
Oh how do men fly from the Pestilence?
And wilt not thou learn wisdom Soul from thence?
Sin is a plague that kills eternally
All souls of men, unless they swiftly fly
To Jesus Christ, no Med'cine will do good,
Nor heal this plague, but this Physicians Blood.
What blindness is there then in thy base heart?
'Tis not the plague, th' Physician must depart:
Thou shutst the door, wilt not let him come in,
Whose purpose is to heal the plague of sin.
When Scripture so compares it, may not I
Call it a sickness, or a loathsom sore,
That quite covers the Soul, and spreads all o're,
Like to an Ulcer, or infectious Biles,
That do corrupt, that poisons and defiles
The Soul afflicted, and all others too
That dwell with him, or have with him to do?
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And wilt not thou learn wisdom Soul from thence?
Sin is a plague that kills eternally
All souls of men, unless they swiftly fly
To Jesus Christ, no Med'cine will do good,
Nor heal this plague, but this Physicians Blood.
What blindness is there then in thy base heart?
'Tis not the plague, th' Physician must depart:
Thou shutst the door, wilt not let him come in,
Whose purpose is to heal the plague of sin.
Nay, what is sin? 'tis poison in a Cup,
That's gilt without, and men do drink it up
Most earnestly, with joy, and much delight,
Being pleasant to the carnal appetite.
Sin's sweet to him whose soul is out of taste,
But long, alas, its sweetness will not last.
Sin's sweet to th' flesh that dos it dearly love,
But to the Spirit it dos poison prove.
Hast, hast thou suck'd this deadly poison in,
And dost not see thy vital parts begin
To swell? art poison'd, Soul, look, look about
To get an Antidote to work it out,
Before it is too late. The poison's strong,
Don't stay a day, twelve hours is too long.
One dram of Grace mixt with repenting tears,
The grace of perfect love, that casts out fears,
Mixt with that Faith, which kills all unbelief,
Took down with speed, will ease thee of thy grief,
Will purge thy soul, and work by vomit well,
And all vile dregs of venom 'twil expel.
Unless thou vomit up each dreg, be sure
No hope of life; one sin will Death procure
Unto thy soul. Repentance is not right,
Till sin, nay, every sin's forsaken quite.
Not only left, but, as a poisonous Cup,
They greatly loath what e're they vomit up.
No evil like the evil called Sin,
Which thou dost love, which thou tak'st pleasure in.
That's gilt without, and men do drink it up
Most earnestly, with joy, and much delight,
Being pleasant to the carnal appetite.
Sin's sweet to him whose soul is out of taste,
But long, alas, its sweetness will not last.
Sin's sweet to th' flesh that dos it dearly love,
But to the Spirit it dos poison prove.
Hast, hast thou suck'd this deadly poison in,
And dost not see thy vital parts begin
To swell? art poison'd, Soul, look, look about
To get an Antidote to work it out,
Before it is too late. The poison's strong,
Don't stay a day, twelve hours is too long.
One dram of Grace mixt with repenting tears,
The grace of perfect love, that casts out fears,
Mixt with that Faith, which kills all unbelief,
Took down with speed, will ease thee of thy grief,
167
And all vile dregs of venom 'twil expel.
Unless thou vomit up each dreg, be sure
No hope of life; one sin will Death procure
Unto thy soul. Repentance is not right,
Till sin, nay, every sin's forsaken quite.
Not only left, but, as a poisonous Cup,
They greatly loath what e're they vomit up.
No evil like the evil called Sin,
Which thou dost love, which thou tak'st pleasure in.
Again, what's sin? it is an horrid Thief,
Or a Deceiver; nay, it is the chief
Or grandest Cheater too that e're was known,
He has rob'd thousands; nay, there is but one
That lives, or e're has liv'd, but rob'd have bin
By this great Thief, by this Deceiver, SIN.
No petty Padder, his ambitious Eye
Doth search about, he subtilly does spy
Into the place where all the Jewels lie.
The first he seizes is the Jewel Time.
He likely robs each Soul of all their prime
And chiefest days, which mercy doth afford,
Which should be dedicated to the Lord.
And more then this, not one good thing they have,
But them of it does this curst Thief deceive.
Sweet Gospel Grace, nay and the Gospel too,
And all that glory which they also do
Confer on us, Souls are deceiv'd hereby,
And yet they know it not, they don't espy
The way it works, it's done so secretly.
Sin robs the soul of its sweet Jewel Peace,
And in its room do's grief and anguish place.
Who ever doth this grievous loss sustain,
Can't have it made up unto him again
By Treasures of all Kingdoms here on Earth,
No valuing it, no knowing of its worth.
Another thing this Thief has in his Eye,
And lays his Fingers on, then by and by
Doth bear away, it is the Jewel, Soul,
A loss which mortals ever shall condole.
For had a man ten thousand worlds to lose:
The loss of them far better had he chose,
Than lose his soul, why would you think it strange?
What shall a man for's soul give in exchange?
There's one rich Jewel more, and 'tis the chief
That is aim'd at by Satan and this Thief,
Ah! 'tis a thing more worth than all the rest:
How, how can then the value be exprest?
It is a precious Stone that shines so bright,
It doth the heart of the great God delight.
He loves it dear, 'tis that his eye's upon,
And nought he prizes like this precious Stone.
This Stone, poor Soul, he offers unto thee,
What sayst thou to't, canst thou no beauty see,
No worth in that which God accounts so rare?
Strange 'tis! shall I the cause of it declare?
Sin blinds thine eyes, and dos beguile thee so,
Thou for a Pepple lets this Jewel go.
This stone (know thou) is the Pearl of great price,
Let not this base Deceiver thee entice
To slight dear JESUS: wilt be such a fool,
To lose thy time, thy Christ, peace, and thy soul?
Be thou more wise, and more considerate,
Thou dost, alas, thy pleasures over-rate.
Let's go to th' ballance, prethee, Soul, let's weigh
The Pearl of price; make hast, and quickly lay
Into the scales, the flesh, and loads of pleasure;
For honour, all the acts of mighty Cesar,
And cast whole mines in too, whole mines of treasure!
Add world to world, then heap a thousand more,
And throw them in, if thou canst find such store;
And see which ballance of them is too light;
Lo it is done, and thine's such under-weight,
It seems as if thy scale was empty quite.
Let's take the Pearl out, and then lets put in
An airy bubble; now let's weigh agin.
See, see, fond Soul, thy scale aloft dos fly,
There's nothing in't, 'tis less than vanity.
What folly was't to make the first compare?
What weigh the world with Christ! no need is there
To run that parallel, thou now mayst find
Thy self deceiv'd, thou labour'st for the wind.
For sin's compos'd of nought save subtil wiles,
It fawn's and flatters, and betrays by smiles.
It's like a Panther, or a Crocodil,
It seems to love, and promises no ill;
It hides its sting, seems harmless, as the Dove,
It hugs the Soul, it hates, when vow's tru'st love.
It plays the Tyrant most by gilded pills,
It secretly insnares the Soul it kills.
Sin's promises they all deceitful be,
Does promise wealth, but pay us poverty:
Does promise honour, but dos pay us shame;
And quite bereaves a man of his good name.
Does promise pleasure, but does pay us sorrow;
Does promise Life to day, pays Death to morrow.
No evil like to th' evil called Sin,
Which thou dost love, which thou tak'st pleasure in.
Or a Deceiver; nay, it is the chief
Or grandest Cheater too that e're was known,
He has rob'd thousands; nay, there is but one
That lives, or e're has liv'd, but rob'd have bin
By this great Thief, by this Deceiver, SIN.
No petty Padder, his ambitious Eye
Doth search about, he subtilly does spy
Into the place where all the Jewels lie.
The first he seizes is the Jewel Time.
He likely robs each Soul of all their prime
And chiefest days, which mercy doth afford,
Which should be dedicated to the Lord.
And more then this, not one good thing they have,
But them of it does this curst Thief deceive.
Sweet Gospel Grace, nay and the Gospel too,
And all that glory which they also do
Confer on us, Souls are deceiv'd hereby,
And yet they know it not, they don't espy
The way it works, it's done so secretly.
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And in its room do's grief and anguish place.
Who ever doth this grievous loss sustain,
Can't have it made up unto him again
By Treasures of all Kingdoms here on Earth,
No valuing it, no knowing of its worth.
Another thing this Thief has in his Eye,
And lays his Fingers on, then by and by
Doth bear away, it is the Jewel, Soul,
A loss which mortals ever shall condole.
For had a man ten thousand worlds to lose:
The loss of them far better had he chose,
Than lose his soul, why would you think it strange?
What shall a man for's soul give in exchange?
There's one rich Jewel more, and 'tis the chief
That is aim'd at by Satan and this Thief,
Ah! 'tis a thing more worth than all the rest:
How, how can then the value be exprest?
It is a precious Stone that shines so bright,
It doth the heart of the great God delight.
He loves it dear, 'tis that his eye's upon,
And nought he prizes like this precious Stone.
This Stone, poor Soul, he offers unto thee,
What sayst thou to't, canst thou no beauty see,
No worth in that which God accounts so rare?
Strange 'tis! shall I the cause of it declare?
Sin blinds thine eyes, and dos beguile thee so,
Thou for a Pepple lets this Jewel go.
This stone (know thou) is the Pearl of great price,
Let not this base Deceiver thee entice
169
To lose thy time, thy Christ, peace, and thy soul?
Be thou more wise, and more considerate,
Thou dost, alas, thy pleasures over-rate.
Let's go to th' ballance, prethee, Soul, let's weigh
The Pearl of price; make hast, and quickly lay
Into the scales, the flesh, and loads of pleasure;
For honour, all the acts of mighty Cesar,
And cast whole mines in too, whole mines of treasure!
Add world to world, then heap a thousand more,
And throw them in, if thou canst find such store;
And see which ballance of them is too light;
Lo it is done, and thine's such under-weight,
It seems as if thy scale was empty quite.
Let's take the Pearl out, and then lets put in
An airy bubble; now let's weigh agin.
See, see, fond Soul, thy scale aloft dos fly,
There's nothing in't, 'tis less than vanity.
What folly was't to make the first compare?
What weigh the world with Christ! no need is there
To run that parallel, thou now mayst find
Thy self deceiv'd, thou labour'st for the wind.
For sin's compos'd of nought save subtil wiles,
It fawn's and flatters, and betrays by smiles.
It's like a Panther, or a Crocodil,
It seems to love, and promises no ill;
It hides its sting, seems harmless, as the Dove,
It hugs the Soul, it hates, when vow's tru'st love.
It plays the Tyrant most by gilded pills,
It secretly insnares the Soul it kills.
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Does promise wealth, but pay us poverty:
Does promise honour, but dos pay us shame;
And quite bereaves a man of his good name.
Does promise pleasure, but does pay us sorrow;
Does promise Life to day, pays Death to morrow.
No evil like to th' evil called Sin,
Which thou dost love, which thou tak'st pleasure in.
Again, what's Sin? a second Dalilah,
Which in the bosom lies, does tempt and draw
The Soul to yield unto its cursed ways,
And resteth not until it quite betrays
It's Life into the proud Philistines hands,
Who take and bind it with base churlish bands;
Nay, and most cruelly puts out its eyes,
Makes it grind in their Mill. Devils devise
All this, and more then this, when they do get
The poor deluded Soul into their net.
Which in the bosom lies, does tempt and draw
The Soul to yield unto its cursed ways,
And resteth not until it quite betrays
It's Life into the proud Philistines hands,
Who take and bind it with base churlish bands;
Nay, and most cruelly puts out its eyes,
Makes it grind in their Mill. Devils devise
All this, and more then this, when they do get
The poor deluded Soul into their net.
Lastly, what's Sin? read thou the former Part
Of this small Book, O view the bitter smart
Thy Saviour bore, it pierc'd his very heart.
Think thou upon his bloudy Agony,
'Tis that opes best its hellish mysterie,
And shews the venom which in it dos lie.
No evil like the evil called Sin,
Which thou dost love, and tak'st such pleasure in.
Had evil man's fool-hardiness extended
No further than himself, and there had ended,
'Twere not so much, but O! I do espy
Another is much injured thereby,
Ten thousand times more excellent in worth:
For the great God, who form'd the Heav'n & Earth,
Doth look upon himself as wrong'd thereby,
For he that sins, doth little less than fly
I'th very face of his blest Majesty.
And when the Son of Glory hither came,
O how was he exposed unto shame!
It brought his Sacred Person in disgrace,
When Sinners vile spat in his Heavn'ly face.
They taunt him with base terms; and being bound
They scourged him; he bled: but the worst wound
Was in his Soul, occasioned by Sin;
And thou thereby woundst him most sore agin.
O wilt thou paddle in the pure stream
Of precious Bloud! contemn it! O extream
And hideous Monster! dost thou hug the Knife
Which wounded him, yea took away his Life,
And will let out thy blood, though now it be
Delighted in, and loved much by thee?
Of this small Book, O view the bitter smart
Thy Saviour bore, it pierc'd his very heart.
Think thou upon his bloudy Agony,
'Tis that opes best its hellish mysterie,
And shews the venom which in it dos lie.
No evil like the evil called Sin,
Which thou dost love, and tak'st such pleasure in.
Had evil man's fool-hardiness extended
No further than himself, and there had ended,
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Another is much injured thereby,
Ten thousand times more excellent in worth:
For the great God, who form'd the Heav'n & Earth,
Doth look upon himself as wrong'd thereby,
For he that sins, doth little less than fly
I'th very face of his blest Majesty.
And when the Son of Glory hither came,
O how was he exposed unto shame!
It brought his Sacred Person in disgrace,
When Sinners vile spat in his Heavn'ly face.
They taunt him with base terms; and being bound
They scourged him; he bled: but the worst wound
Was in his Soul, occasioned by Sin;
And thou thereby woundst him most sore agin.
O wilt thou paddle in the pure stream
Of precious Bloud! contemn it! O extream
And hideous Monster! dost thou hug the Knife
Which wounded him, yea took away his Life,
And will let out thy blood, though now it be
Delighted in, and loved much by thee?
Of Wonders strange, and Prodigies that are
Amazing unto all who of them hear,
None can come nigh, or be compar'd to this,
A Prodigie of Prodigies it is.
Of Love and Lover, ne'r the like was known,
Nor was the like Ingratitude e're shown.
The one doth love beyond all admiration,
And suffer'd things beyond humane relation.
And he a King, but she a filthy brute,
A beggar vile, and yet denies his Suit!
Amazing unto all who of them hear,
None can come nigh, or be compar'd to this,
A Prodigie of Prodigies it is.
Of Love and Lover, ne'r the like was known,
Nor was the like Ingratitude e're shown.
The one doth love beyond all admiration,
And suffer'd things beyond humane relation.
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A beggar vile, and yet denies his Suit!
Question.
From whence is it? O why will she not closeWith this great Lord? how can she still oppose
His oft-repeated proffers? how, not yet!
Yield unto him? pray what's the cause of it?
Answer.
'Tis not in her own power to dispose
Her self in marriage: also here are those
Who dwell with her, and her Relations be,
Who spoil the match, or the affinitie,
Which otherwise in all appearance might
Be throughly made with Jesus Prince of Light.
Her self in marriage: also here are those
Who dwell with her, and her Relations be,
Who spoil the match, or the affinitie,
Which otherwise in all appearance might
Be throughly made with Jesus Prince of Light.
Two proud Relations loftily stand off,
Who urge her to reject him with a scoff.
The one is Will, a very churlish piece,
Who all along for Sin and Satan is.
The other's Judgment, once most grave and wise,
But now with Will both cursed Enemies;
To God and Christ true Piety oppose,
And lead the Soul with evil ways to close.
'Tis they who must dispose of her, if she
E're yield to Christ his dearest Spouse to be.
But Sin has so by craft corrupted them,
And drawn them to its party, they contemn
This glorious Lover, and will not consent
The Soul should yield to him, or should repent,
And so break off with other Lovers, who
She yet doth love, and loth is to for-go.
Besides them, in her house doth also dwell
An Enemy call'd Old-man, known full well
To be a grand and horrid Instrument,
To keep the Soul from granting her consent.
O! he's the cause of all the inward strife,
And hates the thoughts she should become his Wife.
And will prevent it, if he can find out
Meet ways and means to bring the same about.
Nay such a Foe this Old-man is indeed,
That till he's slain by th' Spirit, or does bleed,
Or weakned in his power, ne'r will she
With the Lord Christ firmly united be.
Slight wounds wo'nt do, he must be slain out-right,
Such is his rage, his subtilty and spite
Against this happy match; till he's near dead,
It cannot be in truth accomplished.
Therefore expect to hear of his black doom,
Before the sweet espousal Day doth come.
Who urge her to reject him with a scoff.
The one is Will, a very churlish piece,
Who all along for Sin and Satan is.
The other's Judgment, once most grave and wise,
But now with Will both cursed Enemies;
To God and Christ true Piety oppose,
And lead the Soul with evil ways to close.
'Tis they who must dispose of her, if she
E're yield to Christ his dearest Spouse to be.
But Sin has so by craft corrupted them,
And drawn them to its party, they contemn
This glorious Lover, and will not consent
The Soul should yield to him, or should repent,
And so break off with other Lovers, who
She yet doth love, and loth is to for-go.
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An Enemy call'd Old-man, known full well
To be a grand and horrid Instrument,
To keep the Soul from granting her consent.
O! he's the cause of all the inward strife,
And hates the thoughts she should become his Wife.
And will prevent it, if he can find out
Meet ways and means to bring the same about.
Nay such a Foe this Old-man is indeed,
That till he's slain by th' Spirit, or does bleed,
Or weakned in his power, ne'r will she
With the Lord Christ firmly united be.
Slight wounds wo'nt do, he must be slain out-right,
Such is his rage, his subtilty and spite
Against this happy match; till he's near dead,
It cannot be in truth accomplished.
Therefore expect to hear of his black doom,
Before the sweet espousal Day doth come.
There's also yet another Inmate, I
Perceive dwells in her house (which by and by
You'l hear much of) who all her secrets knows,
And can her very inward thoughts disclose,
His name is Conscience, whose Power's so great,
That in her house he hath a Regal Seat.
These three Allies by Old-man so corrupted,
Have all along the business interrupted,
They naturally are opposite to Grace,
And are far more inclined to give place
To sensual Objects, and the Prince o'th Night,
And so betray the Soul, for want of light,
Into their hands, of whom you heard before,
Who secretly design for ever-more
To take away her life, and quite undo her,
Whilst flatteringly they promise peace unto her;
The Soul's deprav'd and captivated so,
It chuses Evil, and lets Jesus go,
The chiefest good, and takes the chiefest evil,
Being by nature acted by the Devil.
This well consider'd, may the cause discover
Why she denies to entertain this Lover.
The Soul is dead, and cannot see, nor hear,
'Tis sensless as a stone; a stone can bear
The greatest weight, and neither break, nor melt:
Souls dead to God, ne'r love-sick passions felt
Unto this day; nor can they love, until
They are convinc'd of sin and all the ill
They have committed 'gainst his holy Will.
Being sensible hereof, then with strong cryes
They fly to God for salve to o'pe their Eys;
The Eys affect the Heart, when thou canst see
Christ will be dear, and not till then to thee.
The Conscience first is always wrought upon,
Which never is effectually done,
But by the Spirits Pow'r and operation,
Which sets it equally against transgression.
But lest I should be tedious, I'le forbear,
Craving attention to what follows here.
Perceive dwells in her house (which by and by
You'l hear much of) who all her secrets knows,
And can her very inward thoughts disclose,
His name is Conscience, whose Power's so great,
That in her house he hath a Regal Seat.
These three Allies by Old-man so corrupted,
Have all along the business interrupted,
They naturally are opposite to Grace,
And are far more inclined to give place
To sensual Objects, and the Prince o'th Night,
And so betray the Soul, for want of light,
174
Who secretly design for ever-more
To take away her life, and quite undo her,
Whilst flatteringly they promise peace unto her;
The Soul's deprav'd and captivated so,
It chuses Evil, and lets Jesus go,
The chiefest good, and takes the chiefest evil,
Being by nature acted by the Devil.
This well consider'd, may the cause discover
Why she denies to entertain this Lover.
The Soul is dead, and cannot see, nor hear,
'Tis sensless as a stone; a stone can bear
The greatest weight, and neither break, nor melt:
Souls dead to God, ne'r love-sick passions felt
Unto this day; nor can they love, until
They are convinc'd of sin and all the ill
They have committed 'gainst his holy Will.
Being sensible hereof, then with strong cryes
They fly to God for salve to o'pe their Eys;
The Eys affect the Heart, when thou canst see
Christ will be dear, and not till then to thee.
The Conscience first is always wrought upon,
Which never is effectually done,
But by the Spirits Pow'r and operation,
Which sets it equally against transgression.
But lest I should be tedious, I'le forbear,
Craving attention to what follows here.
175
CHAP. III.
Shewing Christ's Heavenly and admirable Beauty, Riches, Bounty, Power, and Wisdom.
Wilt thou be cruel to so dear a Friend?
Upon thy self 'twill fall, poor Soul, ith' end.
Did not Rebecka yiel'd, and chuse to go
With Abram's servant? and wilt thou say no?
What was an Isaac unto him, whom I
Desire thee to fix thy tender Eye
Upon? was Isaac fair and wealthy too?
Or was he great? Ah Soul! will such things do?
If beauty, wealth, or honour thou dost prize,
I do present one now before thine Eys,
That is the Object, this alone is he;
None, none like him did ever mortals see.
He is all fair, in him's not one ill feature,
Ten thousand times more fair than any Creature
That lives, or ever lived on the Earth,
His Beauty so amazingly shines forth;
Angelick Nature is enamor'd so,
They love him dearly, and admire him too.
His Head is like unto the purest Gold,
His curled Tresses lovely to behold,
And such a brightness sparkles from his Eys,
As when Aurora gilds the Morning skies.
And though so bright, yet lovely like the Doves,
Charming all hearts, where rests diviner Loves,
Look on his beauteous Cheeks, and thou'lt espy
The Rose of Sharon deckt in Royaltie.
His smiling Lips, his speech, and words so sweet,
That all delights and joy in them do meet;
Which tends at once to ravish ear and sight,
And to a kiss all heavenly Souls invite.
The Image of his Father's in his face;
His inward parts excel, he's full of grace.
If Heaven and Earth can make a rare Complexion,
Without a spot, or the least imperfection,
Here, here it is, it in this Prince doth shine,
He's altogether lovely, all Divine.
Upon thy self 'twill fall, poor Soul, ith' end.
Did not Rebecka yiel'd, and chuse to go
With Abram's servant? and wilt thou say no?
What was an Isaac unto him, whom I
Desire thee to fix thy tender Eye
Upon? was Isaac fair and wealthy too?
Or was he great? Ah Soul! will such things do?
If beauty, wealth, or honour thou dost prize,
I do present one now before thine Eys,
That is the Object, this alone is he;
None, none like him did ever mortals see.
He is all fair, in him's not one ill feature,
Ten thousand times more fair than any Creature
That lives, or ever lived on the Earth,
His Beauty so amazingly shines forth;
Angelick Nature is enamor'd so,
They love him dearly, and admire him too.
His Head is like unto the purest Gold,
His curled Tresses lovely to behold,
And such a brightness sparkles from his Eys,
As when Aurora gilds the Morning skies.
And though so bright, yet lovely like the Doves,
Charming all hearts, where rests diviner Loves,
176
The Rose of Sharon deckt in Royaltie.
His smiling Lips, his speech, and words so sweet,
That all delights and joy in them do meet;
Which tends at once to ravish ear and sight,
And to a kiss all heavenly Souls invite.
The Image of his Father's in his face;
His inward parts excel, he's full of grace.
If Heaven and Earth can make a rare Complexion,
Without a spot, or the least imperfection,
Here, here it is, it in this Prince doth shine,
He's altogether lovely, all Divine.
1.
His Beauty is so much desirable,No Souls that see it any ways are able
For to withstand the influ'nce of the same;
They'r so enamour'd with it, they proclaim
There's none like him in Earth, nor Heav'n above;
It draws their hearts, and makes them fall in love
Immediately, so that they cannot stay
From following him one minute of a day.
The Flock is left, the Herd, and fishing Net,
As soon as e're the Soul its Eye doth set
Upon his face, or of it takes a view,
They'l cleave to him, whatever doth insue.
2.
Christ is the Spring, or the OriginalOf earthly beauty, and Celestial.
That Beauty which in glorious Angels shine,
Or is in Creatures natural, or Divine,
It flows from him: O it is he doth grace
The mind with glorious Beauty, as the face.
177
3.
Christ's Beauty's chast, most pure, and without snares,Not like to other's, which oft unawares,
Like Josephs, most treacherously betrays
Poor wanton Souls, and leads them to the pit,
Before they are aware, or think of it!
Here may'st thou look, and love, and take thy fill,
(Yea every one who hath a heart, a will)
Whose sweetness ne'r will glut, surfeit, or kill.
4.
His Beauty's real, 'tis no glistering paint;That suits vain Sinners, this affects the Saint.
The painted face pleases the carnal Eye;
But none but Saints through faith can this espy;
That's a vain show, but this a precious thing,
In sight of which Celestial joy doth spring.
5.
This Beauty fills, and fully satisfies,The hearts of all who have enlightned Eyes.
He that sees Christ, doth say, Lord, now I have
What e're I long'd to see, no more I crave;
I have enough, my heart and I are fill'd;
Which was not so before, whilst I beheld
Things with a sensual heart and outward eye.
There's nothing here, save Christ, can satisfie
That precious Soul, which lieth in thy breast;
Reject him, and ne'r look for peace nor rest.
6.
Christ's Beauty's hidden, 'tis so mystical;No glimmerings of it can appear at all
To carnal Souls. This is the cause why he
Is thus deny'd, and slighted still by thee.
7.
There's one thing more which I'le to thee impart,Touching Christ's Beauty, by diviner Art,
178
Who are deform'd, as soon as e're they close
With him in truth, in a contract of love,
He all their homely features doth remove.
Oh! he can make those lovely, very fair,
Who ne'r so filthy, ne'r so ugly are.
8.
This Beauty sadeth not, 'twill not decay,'Twill be as rare to morrow as to day.
Not like to that, which as a fading flower,
Ev'n now shines bright, but wither'd in an hour.
Riches of Christ.
Or, is thy heart on Riches set? know then,
Christ is more rich than all the sons of Men.
The Father hath to him all fulness given
In Earth beneath, and all that is in Heaven.
All Kingdoms of the world they are his own,
Whether inhabited, or yet unknown.
He's heir of all things, and the time is near
When he will make his Right most plain appear.
All Potentates his Tenants are at will;
And such who wast his goods, or govern ill,
Account must give to him, and then will find
What 'tis to bear to him a treach'rous mind.
Christ is more rich than all the sons of Men.
The Father hath to him all fulness given
In Earth beneath, and all that is in Heaven.
All Kingdoms of the world they are his own,
Whether inhabited, or yet unknown.
He's heir of all things, and the time is near
When he will make his Right most plain appear.
All Potentates his Tenants are at will;
And such who wast his goods, or govern ill,
Account must give to him, and then will find
What 'tis to bear to him a treach'rous mind.
Christ's glorious Riches are discovered
Yet further unto thee; for all are fed
By him alone that on the Earth e're liv'd,
Both food and clothes they all from him receiv'd,
And still receive; 'tis at his proper charge
They are maintain'd, as might be shew'n at large.
I'le only give a hint or two at things,
His Treasures far surmount all Earthly Kings.
He has paid all the debts of every one
That clos'd with him. O do but think upon
This very thing, and wisely then account
To what a sum this payment will amount:
Suppose each Soul ten thousand Talents were
In debt to God: some little time we'l spare
To cast it up. 'Tis done, and lo 'tis found
Eighteen hundred sev'nty five thousand pound.
And less than that what sinners ow'd that's clear'd,
As often-times, I doubt not, you have hear'd.
What did they altogether, think you, owe?
Who's able to account it? who can show
The quantity of that great debt, which he
Paid at one single payment on the Tree?
The quality too of his Riches are
So great in worth, O so transcendent rare,
Their Nature Men nor Angels can declare.
No other Coin would with God's Justice go,
To satisfie for debts which Sinners owe.
Nay the whole World, nor yet ten thousand more,
Could not discount one farthing of that score,
But had Christ's worth and Riches only bin
Sufficient to discharge from debts of Sin;
And had he not more Treasure to bestow
On such who do believe, or truly do
Cleave unto him, it might be thought to be
A lessening of his vast Treasurie.
But 'tis not so; for he enriches all,
Who are discharged from sin's bitter thral.
None comes to him, nor ever came, but they
Receive, besides such sums that very day
They are espous'd, that holy Truth relates,
They 'r made more rich than earthly Potentates.
A golden Chain about their necks he places,
And them with Rings, and precious Jewels, graces;
And clothes them also in rich Robes of state,
Whose sparkling glory far exceeds the plate
Of beaten Gold; nay Ophir's Treasury,
And all the Wealth which in both Indies lie,
Must not compared be; alas, they can't
Equal in worth the Robes of one poor Saint.
He Heirs also doth make them every one
Of a most glorious Kingdom, and a Crown
He doth assure them that they shall obtain,
And when they come to age, for ever raign
With him triumphantly, and tread down those
Who were their Enemies, or did oppose
Their rising up to such great Dignity,
Or treated them on Earth with cruelty.
He's rich in every thing, no good is found,
No wealth nor worth, but all in Christ abound.
Few in all kind of Riches do exceed:
But there's in him whatever Sinners need.
Cast but a look, O view this Treasury,
Riches of Life, Love, Pardon, all dos lie,
Laid up in Christ, in him tis hid, for those
Who do with him in true affection close.
These Riches do enrich the Soul of Man,
Which earthly Riches never did, nor can.
Nay prethee hark to me, I'le tell thee more,
Although Christ has paid off our former score,
He han't consum'd one farthing of his store.
Though he has made some millions rich and high,
He hath with him such a redundancy
Of glorious Riches, that let come who will,
Their Treasuries with substance he can fill.
The Sun is not more full of precious Light,
Whose sparkling rays do dazle mortals sight;
Nor is the great, the vast and mighty Sea
More fill'd with water than (in truth) is he
With Grace and Riches, yea of every kind:
Which if thou close with him, and dost not find
To be a truth (Soul) then let me obtain
Reproach from all, yea an eternal shame.
Christ's Riches are so great, St. Paul knew well
No tongue could set them forth, no Angels tell
Th' nature of them, they unsearchable be;
Men may find out the bottom of the Sea,
As soon as they can learn or comprehend
How rich Christ is, who is thy dearest Friend.
Nay, more than this, his Riches are so stable,
Moths can't corrupt them, nor can Thieves be able
To rob us of them. Nay, yet further-more,
He that hath them, what e're comes, can't be poor.
His Riches can't be spent, his Treasury
Cannot exhausted be, nor yet drawn dry.
These Riches will rejoyce thee, make thee glad,
Revive thy heart; and God will never add
Sorrow with them whilst thou dost live on earth;
They'l quiet thee, and fill thy Soul with mirth;
They'l be a breast of such sweet Consolation,
That when all other dwellers in the Nation
Shall be perplext through loss of earthly gain,
Thou shalt be satisfied, and remain
In perfect peace; nought shall distress thy mind,
When they shall nought, save horrid anguish find.
Though Gold and Silver will not satisfie
The Soul of Man, yet this I do espy,
The loss of them, and other earthly things,
It grief and sorrow to the Spirit brings.
And so uncertain are things of the world,
Though here to night, e're morning all are hurl'd
Away from him who now possession hath;
Like to a bubble are all things on Earth.
He that on worldly Riches sets his mind,
Strives to take hold on shadows, and the wind.
But if Christ's Riches once thou dost obtain,
The loss of them thou never shalt sustain,
Nor will they leave thee when thou com'st to die,
But cleave unto, and thee accompanie
Beyond the Grave, ev'n to Eternitie.
What dost thou say? canst make a better choice
Than close with Christ? O hearken to his voice,
And don't with stand the proffer made to thee,
If any good thou dost in Riches see.
Yet further unto thee; for all are fed
By him alone that on the Earth e're liv'd,
Both food and clothes they all from him receiv'd,
And still receive; 'tis at his proper charge
They are maintain'd, as might be shew'n at large.
179
His Treasures far surmount all Earthly Kings.
He has paid all the debts of every one
That clos'd with him. O do but think upon
This very thing, and wisely then account
To what a sum this payment will amount:
Suppose each Soul ten thousand Talents were
In debt to God: some little time we'l spare
To cast it up. 'Tis done, and lo 'tis found
Eighteen hundred sev'nty five thousand pound.
And less than that what sinners ow'd that's clear'd,
As often-times, I doubt not, you have hear'd.
What did they altogether, think you, owe?
Who's able to account it? who can show
The quantity of that great debt, which he
Paid at one single payment on the Tree?
The quality too of his Riches are
So great in worth, O so transcendent rare,
Their Nature Men nor Angels can declare.
No other Coin would with God's Justice go,
To satisfie for debts which Sinners owe.
Nay the whole World, nor yet ten thousand more,
Could not discount one farthing of that score,
But had Christ's worth and Riches only bin
Sufficient to discharge from debts of Sin;
And had he not more Treasure to bestow
On such who do believe, or truly do
Cleave unto him, it might be thought to be
A lessening of his vast Treasurie.
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Who are discharged from sin's bitter thral.
None comes to him, nor ever came, but they
Receive, besides such sums that very day
They are espous'd, that holy Truth relates,
They 'r made more rich than earthly Potentates.
A golden Chain about their necks he places,
And them with Rings, and precious Jewels, graces;
And clothes them also in rich Robes of state,
Whose sparkling glory far exceeds the plate
Of beaten Gold; nay Ophir's Treasury,
And all the Wealth which in both Indies lie,
Must not compared be; alas, they can't
Equal in worth the Robes of one poor Saint.
He Heirs also doth make them every one
Of a most glorious Kingdom, and a Crown
He doth assure them that they shall obtain,
And when they come to age, for ever raign
With him triumphantly, and tread down those
Who were their Enemies, or did oppose
Their rising up to such great Dignity,
Or treated them on Earth with cruelty.
He's rich in every thing, no good is found,
No wealth nor worth, but all in Christ abound.
Few in all kind of Riches do exceed:
But there's in him whatever Sinners need.
Cast but a look, O view this Treasury,
Riches of Life, Love, Pardon, all dos lie,
Laid up in Christ, in him tis hid, for those
Who do with him in true affection close.
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Which earthly Riches never did, nor can.
Nay prethee hark to me, I'le tell thee more,
Although Christ has paid off our former score,
He han't consum'd one farthing of his store.
Though he has made some millions rich and high,
He hath with him such a redundancy
Of glorious Riches, that let come who will,
Their Treasuries with substance he can fill.
The Sun is not more full of precious Light,
Whose sparkling rays do dazle mortals sight;
Nor is the great, the vast and mighty Sea
More fill'd with water than (in truth) is he
With Grace and Riches, yea of every kind:
Which if thou close with him, and dost not find
To be a truth (Soul) then let me obtain
Reproach from all, yea an eternal shame.
Christ's Riches are so great, St. Paul knew well
No tongue could set them forth, no Angels tell
Th' nature of them, they unsearchable be;
Men may find out the bottom of the Sea,
As soon as they can learn or comprehend
How rich Christ is, who is thy dearest Friend.
Nay, more than this, his Riches are so stable,
Moths can't corrupt them, nor can Thieves be able
To rob us of them. Nay, yet further-more,
He that hath them, what e're comes, can't be poor.
His Riches can't be spent, his Treasury
Cannot exhausted be, nor yet drawn dry.
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Revive thy heart; and God will never add
Sorrow with them whilst thou dost live on earth;
They'l quiet thee, and fill thy Soul with mirth;
They'l be a breast of such sweet Consolation,
That when all other dwellers in the Nation
Shall be perplext through loss of earthly gain,
Thou shalt be satisfied, and remain
In perfect peace; nought shall distress thy mind,
When they shall nought, save horrid anguish find.
Though Gold and Silver will not satisfie
The Soul of Man, yet this I do espy,
The loss of them, and other earthly things,
It grief and sorrow to the Spirit brings.
And so uncertain are things of the world,
Though here to night, e're morning all are hurl'd
Away from him who now possession hath;
Like to a bubble are all things on Earth.
He that on worldly Riches sets his mind,
Strives to take hold on shadows, and the wind.
But if Christ's Riches once thou dost obtain,
The loss of them thou never shalt sustain,
Nor will they leave thee when thou com'st to die,
But cleave unto, and thee accompanie
Beyond the Grave, ev'n to Eternitie.
What dost thou say? canst make a better choice
Than close with Christ? O hearken to his voice,
And don't with stand the proffer made to thee,
If any good thou dost in Riches see.
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Christ's Bounty.
What sayest thou? what hast thou in thine eye?Will not Christ's Riches move thee? then I'le try
To gain thee by some other property.
He's bountiful, and of a generous heart,
Most free and noble, ready to impart
What e're he hath unto the Soul he loves.
O see how his Heroick Spirit moves
In him, whose generous, whose bounteous hand,
Holds forth to thee what e're thou canst demand.
'Tis thine for asking; do but speak the word,
Thou hast it done. O! none like this dear Lord.
Some mens great Riches seem to overflow,
Who do a base ignoble Spirit show.
They treasure up their bags, lay heap on heap,
Yet with a narrow covetous spir't keep
All from the poor: Nay their own Wives can get
But now and then a little in a fit;
In a good mood sometimes perchance they'l be
Kind unto them, though but unfreely free.
But Christ's rich Bounty does to all extend,
He stretches forth his hand to Foe and Friend.
Refined Gold, Eye-salve, and Rayments white,
Ev'n all choice things for profit and delight;
Sweet Frankincense, Spicknard, Calamas fine,
Myrrh, Saffron, with all choice of spiced Wine,
He freely gives to all: O come who will,
He'l bid you welcome, and your Treasures fill,
O what doth he then to his Friends impart,
Unto his Spouse, the Soul who has his heart?
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Beloved ones, 'twas for your sakes that I
This Banquet made. There's nought (says he) too good
For those that I have purchas'd with my blood.
Take Grace and Glory; all I have I give you,
And to my self I will e're long receive you.
Ask, that your joy may now be full: for I
Can't any thing that's good your souls deny.
The Soveraign Power and Dignity of Christ.
What can I now do more, if still thou artResolved to deny Jesus thy heart?
If Beauty will not move thee to incline
To close with him, who longs till he is thine:
Strange! Beauty oft prevails great Conquests gains;
Like to a mighty Victor, binds in chains
Those wch would not by other means e're yield.
Such is the nature of his pow'rful Shield,
Triumphantly it has obtain'd the Field.
No standing out against its piercing Darts,
It hath a secret way to wound those hearts,
Whose constitution leads them naturally
To steer that course, and on it cast an Eye
To search the sweet, which Fancy says doth lye
Hid in the same. For human Beauty's vain,
Which some have sacrific'd their lives, to gain.
But Christ's sweet Beauty is a real thing,
And doth substantial joys and pleasures bring;
Such pleasures also which will still abide
For evermore, like Rivers by thy side.
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Nor Riches neither, sweet Imbraces gain;
Nor generous Bounty, win thy purer love?
Then let Ambition thy affections move.
Is Greatness barren quite of solid joys?
Are all her Merchandize but empty toys?
If it be earthly, 'tis an Airy thing,
Though 'twere to be a Spouse unto a King.
But let it not be so look'd on by thee
To be espous'd to that great Majestie,
From whom alone true Honour dos descend,
This Greatness lasting perfect, ne'r will end.
Come, Soul, let us most seriously now pry
Into Christ's Pow'r and regal Soveraignty,
And next let me his glorious Pow'r show
By which he works, and all great things can do.
Some have a Pow'r whereby they can command,
But to accomplish things do want a hand:
But Christ in both excels, 'tis he alone
Hath regal Pow'r; and what he will have done
He can effect i'th twinkling of an eye,
Though all combine against him far and nigh.
He's over Angels, (as thou heardst before)
They gladly him do rev'rence, and adore.
The Head o'th Church makes Laws, and governs it,
According as he sees 'tis best and fit.
His regal Pow'r also doth descend,
And over all the Devils doth extend.
The Keys of Hell and Death to him are given;
'Tis he alone can shut and open Heaven.
186
To punish, or deliver, they'r all hid
In him alone; 'tis he can bind or loose;
To damn or save, 'tis all as he doth chuse.
He's King of Kings, all mighty men below
To him their Princely Crowns & Kingdoms owe.
Yea such an universal Monarch's he,
Commands the mighty Winds, and stils the Sea.
'Twas by his hand the glorious Heav'ns were made,
And wondrous Earth's foundations first were laid.
The Sun, the Moon, and Stars receiv'd their light
From him at first, to rule both Day and Night.
His Power's absolute without controle,
He governs all the World from Pole to Pole.
His Soveraign Pow'r was not gain'd by fight,
Or Usurpation, but a lawful Right;
As he is God, 'tis his essentially,
Born Heir of it from all Eternity.
And as he's Mediator, th' God of Heaven
This glorious Power unto him has given.
His Pow'rs Infinite, it hath no bound,
No ends, or limits of it can be found.
He made the World, which by him doth subsist;
Nay he can make ten thousand if he list.
He can do more than we can think or know,
Can kill, and make alive, save, or o'rethrow.
The Conquests he has gain'd, demonstrate
The matchless Pow'r of this dread Potentate.
Sin is ore-come, the Devil's forc'd to fly,
Nay, h' hath obtain'd a perfect Victory
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And from them all he able is to save.
If thou wilt but consent, grant his request,
Thou never more by Foes shalt be distrest.
Ah Soul! is't not a very glorious thing,
Daily to be thus courted by a King,
And such a King? shall Jesus woo in vain?
Shall such a Prince not thy sweet love obtain?
The Wisdome of Christ.
What say'st to Wisdom, from whose Odour springsThat wch makes glorious inferiour Men, as Kings:
This spreads the sweet perfume of Solomon's fame;
'Twas this that rais'd his most illustrious Name.
The noise of Wisdome made so great report,
'Twas heard as far as Sheba's Princely Court.
It made the Lady's Charriot-wheels to run
Most swift, like to the new-rais'd Eastern Sun,
Mounting aloft, and vanquishing black Clouds:
She hasts away, and through obstructions crouds;
Defying danger, she's resolv'd to see
What Fame reports touching this Prodigie.
The emulous Queen's arriv'd, she stands amaz'd,
She lessens, wonders, and be'ng over-daz'd
With this great Beam, she breaks forth, could not hold
But must express, that what to her was told
In her own Country, was in no wise nigh
Half what she found did in his Wisdom lie.
What's Riches, Bounty, Honour, Beauty rare,
Unless true Wisdom also do dwell there?
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Christ is all Wisdom. Shall I now descend
Into particulars? wilt lend an Ear
Whilst I endeavour to make it more clear?
Alas, I stand amaz'd! Can Infinite
Perfections be exprest? what shall I write?
He's wise, all-wise, only wise; shall I speak?
Wisdom it self i'th' abstract. Can I take
Upon me then to ope this Mystery,
When in him doth all depths of Wisdom lie.
The Wisemans wisdome, if't compar'd might be,
Was like a drop of Water to the Sea;
Nay, far a greater disproportion's there,
Should we Christ's wisdom once with his compare.
'Twas he which did to Solomon impart
That wisdom, and that understanding heart.
'Tis he which makes all good men grave and wise,
To hate all evil, and true Vertue prize.
He to our Fathers doth right knowledg give,
And 'tis by him all pious Judges live.
Th' infinite wisdome of th' Eternal One
Shines forth in him; nay, 'tis in him alone
All is laid up; he is God's Treasury,
Where Wisdom and true Knowledg both do lie.
He knows all things and persons here below;
Nay, perfectly does he the Father know,
And all Decrees and Counsels, which of old
Have been, and their events he can unfold.
He knows each glorious purpose, and design,
In him alone do all Perfections shine.
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Temptations, burdens, & the grief of Saints
Most perfectly he knows, and quickly can
Save and defend from th' greatest rage of Man.
For Counsel and wise conduct he exceeds,
And in the midst of paths of Judgment leads.
The crafty Counsel of Achitophel
He can defeat, though laid as deep as Hell.
He over-turns the wisdome of the wise,
Confounds their plots, and shews what folly lies
In their grand Councils, making them to know
Their purposes can't stand, if he says no.
He orders things, that no design shall take
Further than 'twill for his own Glory make.
None like to Christ, he is without compare,
He's wise as well as wealthy, great and fair.
What's thy opinion, Soul, canst not espy
All Glory hid in his blest Majesty?
What hinders then but that without delay
Triumph may celebrate th' espousal day?
CHAP. IV.
Shewing how the Conscience of the Sinner comes to be effectually awakened; together with the effects thereof.
This being said with bowels of Affection,
Tho often mixt with gall of sharp detection,
Her former stubbornness being all laid o'pe,
Yet this, nor that, nor nothing, gave much hope
He should prevail, which put him in a maze,
And did his voice and spirits higher raise.
He still went on with sweet commiseration,
Yet was his pity mixt with some small passion,
And to this purpose did this good man speak,
Not knowing how his last farewel to take.
Theologue.
Tho often mixt with gall of sharp detection,
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Yet this, nor that, nor nothing, gave much hope
He should prevail, which put him in a maze,
And did his voice and spirits higher raise.
He still went on with sweet commiseration,
Yet was his pity mixt with some small passion,
And to this purpose did this good man speak,
Not knowing how his last farewel to take.
Poor stupified Soul! Alas! alas!
What is the cause? whence doth it come to pass
Thou art so sensless? why dost thou despise
All those Soul-melting tears, those sighs and crys?
What, is thy heart more harder than the Rocks,
That thou canst bear these oft repeated knocks,
And never break at all? O strange! O strange!
Thy heart, poor Soul, is't harder than a stone,
That feeble drops of water fall upon,
And makes impression. What, shall stones relent,
And yield themselves, and as it were consent
These frequent droppings should impression make;
And showers move thee not? Awake, awake,
Before the dreadful Message I impart,
Shall rouse thy hard and sin-congealed heart.
Thy night comes on, thy Sun's a going down,
Thy seeming favourites begin to frown.
So all thy pleasures with their wanton charms
Are flying from thee Death spreads forth his Arms,
To take thee hence unto another place:
Canst thou, poor wretch, this ghastly King imbrace?
What will become of all thy wealth and pleasure?
Behold (alas) Death's come to make a seisure
Upon thy poor deceived Soul this night!
Then all thy joys, and empty vain delight
Will vanish like the smoke, and thou shalt be
Cast into Prison for Eternitie;
Where thou shalt evermore bewail thy loss,
In changing Gold for that, that's worse than dross.
Shall Beauty, Wealth, or Honour make thee yield?
Much more that Wisdom wherewith Christ is fill'd.
Shall Love and Patience be so ill rewarded
By thee, by whom he should be most regarded?
And sensual Objects harbour'd in thy heart?
Then wilt thou hear what further I'le impart?
Soul, now thou must be anathematiz'd;
And when Christ comes, how wilt thou be surpriz'd?
For those that love not Jesus, are accurst,
And when he doth appear, for ever must
That fearful doom and sentence then receive.
O may the thoughts of this cause thee to cleave
To him with speed, before this day is gone.
I'le now break off, adieu, this think upon:
Poor drousy wretch, let sin no more deceive thee,
Give me thine Answer now before I leave thee.
O may these Soul-confounding terrors break,
Thy stony-heart, and make thy Conscience speak!
What is the cause? whence doth it come to pass
Thou art so sensless? why dost thou despise
All those Soul-melting tears, those sighs and crys?
What, is thy heart more harder than the Rocks,
That thou canst bear these oft repeated knocks,
And never break at all? O strange! O strange!
Thy heart, poor Soul, is't harder than a stone,
That feeble drops of water fall upon,
And makes impression. What, shall stones relent,
And yield themselves, and as it were consent
These frequent droppings should impression make;
And showers move thee not? Awake, awake,
Before the dreadful Message I impart,
Shall rouse thy hard and sin-congealed heart.
Thy night comes on, thy Sun's a going down,
Thy seeming favourites begin to frown.
So all thy pleasures with their wanton charms
Are flying from thee Death spreads forth his Arms,
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Canst thou, poor wretch, this ghastly King imbrace?
What will become of all thy wealth and pleasure?
Behold (alas) Death's come to make a seisure
Upon thy poor deceived Soul this night!
Then all thy joys, and empty vain delight
Will vanish like the smoke, and thou shalt be
Cast into Prison for Eternitie;
Where thou shalt evermore bewail thy loss,
In changing Gold for that, that's worse than dross.
Shall Beauty, Wealth, or Honour make thee yield?
Much more that Wisdom wherewith Christ is fill'd.
Shall Love and Patience be so ill rewarded
By thee, by whom he should be most regarded?
And sensual Objects harbour'd in thy heart?
Then wilt thou hear what further I'le impart?
Soul, now thou must be anathematiz'd;
And when Christ comes, how wilt thou be surpriz'd?
For those that love not Jesus, are accurst,
And when he doth appear, for ever must
That fearful doom and sentence then receive.
O may the thoughts of this cause thee to cleave
To him with speed, before this day is gone.
I'le now break off, adieu, this think upon:
Poor drousy wretch, let sin no more deceive thee,
Give me thine Answer now before I leave thee.
O may these Soul-confounding terrors break,
Thy stony-heart, and make thy Conscience speak!
Eternal God, do thou thy Spirit send,
'Tis he which must the Soul in pieces rend.
The work's too hard for weakness. Alas! I
Shall not prevail, if help thou dost deny.
Speak to her heart, set home the Word with Pow'r.
Shall this be the good day, the happy hour?
Her Conscience touch, O wound her, let her see
What 'tis to be a Captive unto thee.
Open her Eyes, blest Spirit, thou canst do it.
Sad is her state; O come, and let her know it.
Let not my pains nor labour quite be lost:
For dear she has my Master, Jesus, cost.
Thou canst effectually change her bad mind,
Which unto sensual Objects is inclin'd.
O shed and scatter precious Love abroad,
And unto her some of that grace afford.
Moral persuasions barely ne're will bring
The Soul to love and like our Heav'nly King.
But I'le return and speak yet one word more
Unto her Conscience, e're I do give o're.
'Tis he which must the Soul in pieces rend.
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Shall not prevail, if help thou dost deny.
Speak to her heart, set home the Word with Pow'r.
Shall this be the good day, the happy hour?
Her Conscience touch, O wound her, let her see
What 'tis to be a Captive unto thee.
Open her Eyes, blest Spirit, thou canst do it.
Sad is her state; O come, and let her know it.
Let not my pains nor labour quite be lost:
For dear she has my Master, Jesus, cost.
Thou canst effectually change her bad mind,
Which unto sensual Objects is inclin'd.
O shed and scatter precious Love abroad,
And unto her some of that grace afford.
Moral persuasions barely ne're will bring
The Soul to love and like our Heav'nly King.
But I'le return and speak yet one word more
Unto her Conscience, e're I do give o're.
Speak Conscience, if alive! thou us'd to keep
A faithful watch: what art thou now asleep?
Hath she not slighted Christ, like unto those
That him reject, and cleave unto his Foes?
What dost thou say? speak, I adjure thee, rouse!
Conscience, I speak to thee, shake off thy drouse;
Gripe this deluded Soul, who puts her trust
In those that seek her Life, 'tis thou that must
Stop her vain course: what, shall the Sinner die
When Conscience, God's Vicegerent, is so nigh,
And gives not one sad sigh, nor groan, nor cry?
Strange! what's befallen thee? art lost, or fled,
Who shouldst the tidings bring that all are dead?
Like Job's last Messenger, thou shouldst declare,
How all the faculties corrupted are.
Wilt thou betray that trust repos'd in thee,
And lose thy regal Right and Soveraignty?
Wilt thou connive and wink at such a crime,
Or fault which she commits? O no, 'tis time
Now to awake, and fiercely her reprove.
What, hate that Prince whom she pretends to love?
Immediately the Spirit sweetly spake,
And touch'd her heart, and Conscience did awake.
A faithful watch: what art thou now asleep?
Hath she not slighted Christ, like unto those
That him reject, and cleave unto his Foes?
What dost thou say? speak, I adjure thee, rouse!
Conscience, I speak to thee, shake off thy drouse;
Gripe this deluded Soul, who puts her trust
In those that seek her Life, 'tis thou that must
Stop her vain course: what, shall the Sinner die
When Conscience, God's Vicegerent, is so nigh,
And gives not one sad sigh, nor groan, nor cry?
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Who shouldst the tidings bring that all are dead?
Like Job's last Messenger, thou shouldst declare,
How all the faculties corrupted are.
Wilt thou betray that trust repos'd in thee,
And lose thy regal Right and Soveraignty?
Wilt thou connive and wink at such a crime,
Or fault which she commits? O no, 'tis time
Now to awake, and fiercely her reprove.
What, hate that Prince whom she pretends to love?
Immediately the Spirit sweetly spake,
And touch'd her heart, and Conscience did awake.
Conscience.
What Soul-amazing voice is this I hear?
What Heav'n-rending Thunder fills mine Ear?
Awake, why do I sleep? can Conscience nod,
That keeps a watch betwixt the Soul and God?
If so, yet when Heav'ns voice cryes out amain,
That will awake and make me rouse again.
I have most basely (Sir) corrupted bin,
By Satan and that poisonous Evil, SIN.
A Register I kept, but then alas
It has so fallen out, so come to pass,
That I unfaithful was: for always when
I should have set down scores, I set down ten;
Nay, to their party so entic'd have bin,
That I have often winked at her sin.
And when my Office was for to accuse,
'Twas to wrong ends, her Light I did abuse.
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May pass the Soul without intelligence.
Sir, Strange it is, it puts me in a muse,
As one amaz'd to see the Soul refuse
To hearken to your voice, which constantly,
Like pointed Darts, against her breast doth fly.
I'le take up Arms, and fight for Jesus now,
And make her bend to him, if I know how.
I now declare my self, though for a season
I silence kept, to hear what Goodman Reason
Could find to say, whereby he might excuse her,
But he's most blind, and surely doth abuse her.
I know her byass'd Judgment will conjecture
She's not oblig'd to hearken to that Lecture
She lately heard, although it was Divine,
Her will and judgment doth with Hell combine
To work her ruin; do you what you can,
Till Judgments rectifi'd, and the Old man
Be put to death, she'l be rebellious still,
Yield to her lusts, and please her vicious will.
Theologue.
Doth Conscience yield? Blest day! I'le try again,
With hope of a full Conquest to obtain.
Good service may'st thou do, act well thy part:
Whilst the great King doth thus besiege the heart;
Keep thou a narrow watch, look well about,
Observe who doth come in, and who goes out.
In one thing am I glad, I know from hence
I shall by thee have true intelligence.
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Thou know'st her thought, hearst all the words she says.
Apollyon Prince of Darkness.
Apollyon, that degraded Seraphim,
And Grand-sire of that Hell-bred Monster, Sin,
No sooner did of these late tidings hear,
How Conscience was awakened, but in fear
Presently calls a Council to advise
Which way they might the Soul by craft surprize,
And hinder her from being crowned Queen.
Which to prevent, successful have we been,
Saith he, till now, but I am in great doubt
Much longer we shall hardly hold it out.
The Preacher doth his business follow so,
I am afraid of some great overthrow.
Satan.
Dread Prince! fear not, we yet possession have,
And want no skill. Can't subtilty deceive?
Can't strength subdue? besides, she's in our chain;
Though one links broke, we'l fasten it again.
And if grave Judgment will with us abide,
Conscience will not be able to decide
The diff'rences, nor right dicision make;
No matter then which side the fool doth take.
But since, my Lord, I see what grieves your mind,
No safety shall these Gospel-Preachers find:
Our Vassals we'l prepare with Hellish rage,
Them to extirpate, and drive off the stage.
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I do approve of that last Counsel given;
Let not a place nor corner under Heaven
Be found for those our int'rest dare oppose,
Or once attempt to move the Soul to close
With him whom we account our mortal Foe,
Satan, for this I bless and thank thee too.
The brave design which we have now in hand,
Will soon effect this thing in every Land.
That Enterprise let us pursue with care,
But mind us well how things more inward are.
To Judgment look, left he from us should run;
If once his Eyes are ope, we're all undone.
Soul.
Lord, what sad gripes and lashes no I feel?
My courage fails, and resolutions reel.
Strange thoughts disturb my mind, no rest, alas,
Can heart or eyes obtain; whole nights do pass,
Whole weeks and months, and nought can I possess
But horror great, sad grief, and weariness.
What's my condition now? who'le shew to me
My present state and future misery?
Hark, what's within, a very frightful noise,
It mars my hopes, imbitters all my joys.
My morn's ore-cast, my fair day proveth foul,
My Conscience terrifies, and makes me howl:
Lash after lash, and blows succeeding blows,
He's void of mercy, and no pity shows,
Here ends my joy, and here begins my woes.
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I know not where to fix, nor what to do.
My unresolv'd resolves do greatly vary,
This way one while, and then the quite contrary.
Who is't will counsel give? to whom must I
Go for some ease in this perplexity?
My Conscience says I wickedly have acted,
Not breaking the vile contract I've contracted
With those sweet Lovers which my sensual heart
So long a time has lov'd, how shall we part?
Must I be forc'd, by Conscience to imbrace
One whom I cannot love? 'tis a hard case.
Yet have I cause to love him dearly too;
But how shall I for him let others go?
Depraved Judgment.
Poor silly Soul! and is thy choice so hard?
In two extreams can thy weak thoughts reward
Two so unequal, with the like respect?
Know'st thou not which to slight, which to affect?
Submit to me, 'tis Judgment must advise,
In this great case take heed and be thou wise.
Fix where thou wilt, thy doubt-depending cause
Can ne'r expect a Verdict 'twixt two Laws
Which differ, and are opposit in kind,
Yet a fit medium I'le attempt to find
To ease thy sad, and sore perplexed mind.
Divert those thoughts by some rare Speculations,
And vanquish all these dolesome cogitations.
Look, look abroad, and view the world, pray mark
The Wise and Prudent, and the Courtly Spark.
Will they direct thee so, such counsel give
That thou an Hermits life on Earth shouldst live?
What, marry one that in possession hath
Not one small house, or foot of Land on Earth;
When Wealth, and Honour, Dignity and Power
Are offer'd to thee, as a present Dower?
Thou may'st be deckt with Bracelets rich and rare,
And live on Earth free from perplexing care;
If thou dost look about and take advice,
And suffer Men nor Conscience to entice,
Or thee allure, such a choice to make,
Those joys to leave, and utterly forsake;
Which most men do, nay all accounted wife
Pursue amain, esteem, and highly prize:
But if thou hast a thought to change thy state,
Be wise and stay; don't holy Writ relate,
He that believes, doth not make hast: O why
Shouldst thou have thoughts to mind it presently?
Come, pause a while, be not so hot, alas
By inconsiderateness it comes to pass,
So many Souls are spoil'd and ruined,
Be wary then, not rashly be misled.
In two extreams can thy weak thoughts reward
Two so unequal, with the like respect?
Know'st thou not which to slight, which to affect?
Submit to me, 'tis Judgment must advise,
In this great case take heed and be thou wise.
Fix where thou wilt, thy doubt-depending cause
Can ne'r expect a Verdict 'twixt two Laws
Which differ, and are opposit in kind,
Yet a fit medium I'le attempt to find
To ease thy sad, and sore perplexed mind.
Divert those thoughts by some rare Speculations,
And vanquish all these dolesome cogitations.
Look, look abroad, and view the world, pray mark
The Wise and Prudent, and the Courtly Spark.
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That thou an Hermits life on Earth shouldst live?
What, marry one that in possession hath
Not one small house, or foot of Land on Earth;
When Wealth, and Honour, Dignity and Power
Are offer'd to thee, as a present Dower?
Thou may'st be deckt with Bracelets rich and rare,
And live on Earth free from perplexing care;
If thou dost look about and take advice,
And suffer Men nor Conscience to entice,
Or thee allure, such a choice to make,
Those joys to leave, and utterly forsake;
Which most men do, nay all accounted wife
Pursue amain, esteem, and highly prize:
But if thou hast a thought to change thy state,
Be wise and stay; don't holy Writ relate,
He that believes, doth not make hast: O why
Shouldst thou have thoughts to mind it presently?
Come, pause a while, be not so hot, alas
By inconsiderateness it comes to pass,
So many Souls are spoil'd and ruined,
Be wary then, not rashly be misled.
Nay, furthermore, I'le speak to thee again,
Thou mayst love him, and yet mayst thou retain
Respect and love to other Objects too.
Love thy God well, but why shouldst thou let go
This world, with all the precious joys therein?
But don't mistake, thou must leave off thy sin;
For Holiness I must tell thee is right,
And very pleasant in Jehovah's sight:
But know, O Soul, yet over and above,
Thy Soveraign Lord and Prince hath set his love
So much upon thee, that his gracious Eye
Will overlook thy smaller vanitie.
Ne'r doubt but thou shalt have his favour still,
Though in some things thou satisfie thy will.
Dost think that he who came down from above,
And dy'd for thee, will ever quite remove
His dear affection from thee, or e're hate,
And leave the Soul he bought at such a rate?
It is enough, and happy wilt thou be,
If thou escap'st all gross impurity.
Thou mayst love him, and yet mayst thou retain
Respect and love to other Objects too.
Love thy God well, but why shouldst thou let go
This world, with all the precious joys therein?
But don't mistake, thou must leave off thy sin;
For Holiness I must tell thee is right,
And very pleasant in Jehovah's sight:
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Thy Soveraign Lord and Prince hath set his love
So much upon thee, that his gracious Eye
Will overlook thy smaller vanitie.
Ne'r doubt but thou shalt have his favour still,
Though in some things thou satisfie thy will.
Dost think that he who came down from above,
And dy'd for thee, will ever quite remove
His dear affection from thee, or e're hate,
And leave the Soul he bought at such a rate?
It is enough, and happy wilt thou be,
If thou escap'st all gross impurity.
Thus the base heart be'ng inflam'd by the Devil,
Undoes the Soul. No Enemy's more evil
Than that curst Foe we harbour in our breast,
Which all enlighten'd ones have oft exprest.
Corrupted Judgment blindly would inform her,
Christ having dy'd, her sins can never harm her.
Alas, saith Reason, do not all men sin?
Nay, more than this, the very best have bin
To blame in many things, and yet esteem'd
As righteous ones, and as the Lord's redeem'd?
If famous Men of old offenders were,
What needst thou be so nice, what needst thou fear?
The glorious King is filled with compassion;
Besides he sees in thee great reformation:
Thy love to sinful lusts is but in part
To what it was, and thou must know thou art
Plac'd in this world, and therefore must comply
In some respects with smaller vanity.
When Reason to the vicious Will gives ear,
How can the Understanding then be clear?
When vile Affection thus corrupteth Reason,
All works and thoughts are turn'd to perfect Treason.
O see how blind poor Souls by Nature are,
How vain their thoughts, how ready to insnare
Themselves are they with false Imaginations,
With earthly toys and idle speculations.
To learn and understand all humane Arts
Most apt they are, they'l magnifie their parts;
How very quick and dext'rous are they when
They talk of things that appertain to men?
But things of God are quite above their sphere,
Can't them discern, nor do they love to hear
Of God, or Christ, they count that man a fool
That daily goes to learn at Jesus's School.
Unto the blindness of the natural mind
Add this besides, most evident you'l find
It doth resist the Truth, 'twill not receive it;
Nay 'tis incredulous, 'twill not believe it.
Apt to believe false tales, and stories vain;
Nay, like to Eve, 'twill quickly entertain
Suggestions of the cursed Prince o'th Night,
But what God says, seems evil in their sight.
Nay, more than all, this treach'rous faculty
Is so deprav'd, St. Paul doth plain descry
Much enmity to God therein to lie.
Unto God's Law it will not subject be;
For in the mind is great malignity.
But I must not the Reader here detain;
Because that our old Friend is come again.
Undoes the Soul. No Enemy's more evil
Than that curst Foe we harbour in our breast,
Which all enlighten'd ones have oft exprest.
Corrupted Judgment blindly would inform her,
Christ having dy'd, her sins can never harm her.
Alas, saith Reason, do not all men sin?
Nay, more than this, the very best have bin
To blame in many things, and yet esteem'd
As righteous ones, and as the Lord's redeem'd?
If famous Men of old offenders were,
What needst thou be so nice, what needst thou fear?
The glorious King is filled with compassion;
Besides he sees in thee great reformation:
Thy love to sinful lusts is but in part
To what it was, and thou must know thou art
Plac'd in this world, and therefore must comply
In some respects with smaller vanity.
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How can the Understanding then be clear?
When vile Affection thus corrupteth Reason,
All works and thoughts are turn'd to perfect Treason.
O see how blind poor Souls by Nature are,
How vain their thoughts, how ready to insnare
Themselves are they with false Imaginations,
With earthly toys and idle speculations.
To learn and understand all humane Arts
Most apt they are, they'l magnifie their parts;
How very quick and dext'rous are they when
They talk of things that appertain to men?
But things of God are quite above their sphere,
Can't them discern, nor do they love to hear
Of God, or Christ, they count that man a fool
That daily goes to learn at Jesus's School.
Unto the blindness of the natural mind
Add this besides, most evident you'l find
It doth resist the Truth, 'twill not receive it;
Nay 'tis incredulous, 'twill not believe it.
Apt to believe false tales, and stories vain;
Nay, like to Eve, 'twill quickly entertain
Suggestions of the cursed Prince o'th Night,
But what God says, seems evil in their sight.
Nay, more than all, this treach'rous faculty
Is so deprav'd, St. Paul doth plain descry
Much enmity to God therein to lie.
Unto God's Law it will not subject be;
For in the mind is great malignity.
But I must not the Reader here detain;
Because that our old Friend is come again.
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CHAP. V.
Shewing how the Judgment of the Soul comes to be enlightened, and the effects thereof.
My patience's not yet tyr'd, my bowels move,
With bended knees shall I now gain thy love
To Jesus Christ? how shall I leave thee quite,
When I behold such terrors, which afright
My trembling Soul? wch soon will thee o're-take,
Unless thou dost with speed this Contract make.
Thy Judgment 'tis which I would fain convince.
Thy danger's great, I do perceive from thence:
When Conscience had almost (in truth) persuaded
Thee to repent, it was straightway invaded
By thy blind Understanding, and dark mind,
From whence thou art to evil still inclin'd.
Thou ofen-times hadst listen'd unto me,
And left thy sin: but they deceived thee,
And chang'd thy thoughts (as Conscience doth relate)
Till thy condition's grown most desperate.
Wilt thou once dare to harbour such a thought;
Because with bloud thy Soul by Christ was bought,
Thou mayest sin, and take thy pleasure here,
And prize the world as equal, nay, more dear
To thee than him? How canst thou be so dark
This to imagine, Soul? I prethee hark;
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Thee to redeem from all iniquitie,
And that to him thou shouldst espoused be?
Should a great Prince love a poor Virgin so,
As for her sake ten thousand sorrows know,
And be content at last when all is done,
Another should enjoy her for his own?
Oh! ope thine eyes, imbrace the chiefest Good;
Let him be dear to thee, who with his Bloud
Hath thee redeem'd from Sin, the chiefest ill,
Be not unto thy self so cruel still,
And void of Reason, foolishly to chuse
The greatest Evil, and chief'st Good refuse.
The good in Christ with every state agrees,
It suits the Soul when troubles on it seize.
When thou art sick, he'l thy Physician be,
He all distempers cures. Nay, it is He,
And he alone, that heals the precious Soul,
And with a word can make the Body whole.
Art dark? O, he can straightway make thee see;
Nay, if born blind, he can give eyes to thee.
If thou art weary, he alone's thy rest.
Or, art thou sad, and grievously deprest?
He is thy comfort, and thy joy will be,
Like to the deep and overflowing Sea.
If thou an hungry art, he is thy food.
O tast and see, and thou wilt find him good.
The Fatling's slain, and all things ready are;
Thou'rt welcome too; O come, and do not spare,
But freely eat, and drink his spiced Wine,
Wch will make glad that drooping heart of thine,
The Father calls, the Spirit says, O come;
And Christ doth say, here's in my heart yet room,
O Sinner! come to me: hark, he doth cry,
O come to me, poor Soul, why wilt thou die?
Art thou in Prison, he will ope the door,
He'l pay thy debts, and wipe off all thy score.
If thou a Widow or an Orphan be,
Husband and Father both he'l be to thee:
A Husband that does live, yea, live for ever:
Match here, poor Soul, where Death can part you never.
Or, art thou weak, & canst not go alone?
He is thy strength, O thou mayst lean upon
His mighty Arm; for that is thy support.
Art thou beleaguer'd? he's thy Royal Fort.
In times of danger and of trouble great,
Unto his holy Name do thou retreat:
Which is a Tower strong to all that fly
With care and speed from all iniquity.
Under his wings he'l hide his purchas'd One,
Till these calamities are past and gone.
Or, art thou dying, and dost fear the grave?
He is thy life, from Death he will thee save;
They cannot die, who such a Husband have.
Or, art a Sinner? he's thy Righteousness;
He's more than I can any ways express.
The good in Christ is so exceeding sweet,
None understand until they tast of it.
He is a Good which none can comprehend,
He is a Good which doth all others send;
The chiefest Good, good of himself alone,
When carnal joys and pleasures all are gone.
That's not the good that fills not the desire,
That can't be chief, if there be yet a higher.
God is so good, noughts good if him we want;
Small things, with him, will satisfie a Saint:
He is so good, that nought can bitter make him
Unto that Soul, who chearfully does take him,
And his sweet love and precious grace enjoys;
Yet this rare Good ne'r gluts, nor sweetness cloys.
The best of earthly sweets, which fools do prize,
By sin and sickness doth much bitter rise.
They loath them straight, and can't abide to hear
Of that which lately they esteem'd so dear.
That, that's the Good on which thou shouldst depend,
That is desired for no other end
Than for it self! O tast of him, and try,
And thou'lt be filled to Eternity.
That's not the Good which suddenly doth leave us,
That's not the Good of which Death can bereave us,
Christ is a Good that's lasting, and abides;
All other Good, alas, will fail besides.
Make him thy choice, dear Soul, O do but try
How sweet it is in Jesu's Arms to lie.
Make him thy joy, and thou'lt see cause to sing,
Whatever days or change may on thee bring.
Let him be dear to thee, who with his Bloud
Hath thee redeem'd from Sin, the chiefest ill,
Be not unto thy self so cruel still,
And void of Reason, foolishly to chuse
The greatest Evil, and chief'st Good refuse.
The good in Christ with every state agrees,
It suits the Soul when troubles on it seize.
When thou art sick, he'l thy Physician be,
He all distempers cures. Nay, it is He,
And he alone, that heals the precious Soul,
And with a word can make the Body whole.
Art dark? O, he can straightway make thee see;
Nay, if born blind, he can give eyes to thee.
If thou art weary, he alone's thy rest.
Or, art thou sad, and grievously deprest?
He is thy comfort, and thy joy will be,
Like to the deep and overflowing Sea.
If thou an hungry art, he is thy food.
O tast and see, and thou wilt find him good.
The Fatling's slain, and all things ready are;
Thou'rt welcome too; O come, and do not spare,
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Wch will make glad that drooping heart of thine,
The Father calls, the Spirit says, O come;
And Christ doth say, here's in my heart yet room,
O Sinner! come to me: hark, he doth cry,
O come to me, poor Soul, why wilt thou die?
Art thou in Prison, he will ope the door,
He'l pay thy debts, and wipe off all thy score.
If thou a Widow or an Orphan be,
Husband and Father both he'l be to thee:
A Husband that does live, yea, live for ever:
Match here, poor Soul, where Death can part you never.
Or, art thou weak, & canst not go alone?
He is thy strength, O thou mayst lean upon
His mighty Arm; for that is thy support.
Art thou beleaguer'd? he's thy Royal Fort.
In times of danger and of trouble great,
Unto his holy Name do thou retreat:
Which is a Tower strong to all that fly
With care and speed from all iniquity.
Under his wings he'l hide his purchas'd One,
Till these calamities are past and gone.
Or, art thou dying, and dost fear the grave?
He is thy life, from Death he will thee save;
They cannot die, who such a Husband have.
Or, art a Sinner? he's thy Righteousness;
He's more than I can any ways express.
The good in Christ is so exceeding sweet,
None understand until they tast of it.
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He is a Good which doth all others send;
The chiefest Good, good of himself alone,
When carnal joys and pleasures all are gone.
That's not the good that fills not the desire,
That can't be chief, if there be yet a higher.
God is so good, noughts good if him we want;
Small things, with him, will satisfie a Saint:
He is so good, that nought can bitter make him
Unto that Soul, who chearfully does take him,
And his sweet love and precious grace enjoys;
Yet this rare Good ne'r gluts, nor sweetness cloys.
The best of earthly sweets, which fools do prize,
By sin and sickness doth much bitter rise.
They loath them straight, and can't abide to hear
Of that which lately they esteem'd so dear.
That, that's the Good on which thou shouldst depend,
That is desired for no other end
Than for it self! O tast of him, and try,
And thou'lt be filled to Eternity.
That's not the Good which suddenly doth leave us,
That's not the Good of which Death can bereave us,
Christ is a Good that's lasting, and abides;
All other Good, alas, will fail besides.
Make him thy choice, dear Soul, O do but try
How sweet it is in Jesu's Arms to lie.
Make him thy joy, and thou'lt see cause to sing,
Whatever days or change may on thee bring.
205
Sad times, alas! here is a sudden change;
Nought can I hear of now but rumors strange,
Of Wars and Tumults, with perplexity,
Which do encrease and swell most vehemently
Within the regions of my inward man,
Which causes tears, and makes my face look wan.
Cross workings in me clearly I discover,
I am distrest about this glorious Lover.
The counsel which my heart did lately give
I cannot take, I dare not it receive.
Great slaughters there will be in my small Isle,
For without bloud be sure this fearful broil
Will never cease; which side now shall I take?
I tremble much, yea all my bones do shake.
Some of my sins which I have loved dear,
Are forc'd to fly, and others can't appear,
Lest Conscience should upon them fall: for he
Crys out, Kill all, let not one spared be.
Nay, Judgment too is all-most at a stand,
Which doth amuse me much o'th other hand.
Yet Will and Old-man, are resolv'dly bent
To hinder me from granting my consent.
Yet if I could but have some glimm'ring sight
Of this great Prince, I know not but it might
Work strange effects in me: for I do find
My Eyes are out, my Understanding blind.
Lord, pity me: for I a wretch have bin,
To slight thee thus, and love my cursed sin.
Nought can I hear of now but rumors strange,
Of Wars and Tumults, with perplexity,
Which do encrease and swell most vehemently
Within the regions of my inward man,
Which causes tears, and makes my face look wan.
Cross workings in me clearly I discover,
I am distrest about this glorious Lover.
The counsel which my heart did lately give
I cannot take, I dare not it receive.
Great slaughters there will be in my small Isle,
For without bloud be sure this fearful broil
Will never cease; which side now shall I take?
I tremble much, yea all my bones do shake.
Some of my sins which I have loved dear,
Are forc'd to fly, and others can't appear,
Lest Conscience should upon them fall: for he
Crys out, Kill all, let not one spared be.
Nay, Judgment too is all-most at a stand,
Which doth amuse me much o'th other hand.
Yet Will and Old-man, are resolv'dly bent
To hinder me from granting my consent.
Yet if I could but have some glimm'ring sight
Of this great Prince, I know not but it might
Work strange effects in me: for I do find
My Eyes are out, my Understanding blind.
Lord, pity me: for I a wretch have bin,
To slight thee thus, and love my cursed sin.
206
Thus whilst God's Word was preacht, and she also
Began to cry; I did observe, and lo,
A Friend was sent from the blest Prince of Light,
The glory of whose Face did shine so bright,
That none were able to behold, for he
Seem'd not infer'our to the Majesty
Of the great God, and his eternal Son:
For they in Essence are all three but one.
His Power's great, and Glory is his merit;
His nature's like his Name (most holy Spirit.)
Who to the Soul did presently draw near,
And toucht her heart, and then unstopt her ear;
And from him shone such glorious rays of light,
Some scales flew off, and she recover'd sight.
Which straitway did her judgment rectifie,
Who to this purpose did himself apply
Unto the Soul whom he had led astray.
I must confess my faults to thee this day.
Began to cry; I did observe, and lo,
A Friend was sent from the blest Prince of Light,
The glory of whose Face did shine so bright,
That none were able to behold, for he
Seem'd not infer'our to the Majesty
Of the great God, and his eternal Son:
For they in Essence are all three but one.
His Power's great, and Glory is his merit;
His nature's like his Name (most holy Spirit.)
Who to the Soul did presently draw near,
And toucht her heart, and then unstopt her ear;
And from him shone such glorious rays of light,
Some scales flew off, and she recover'd sight.
Which straitway did her judgment rectifie,
Who to this purpose did himself apply
Unto the Soul whom he had led astray.
I must confess my faults to thee this day.
Judgment.
For want of light false judgment I have given,And treacherously conspired against Heaven;
And 'gainst thy life and happiness have I
Been drawn into a vile conspiracy
Of th' highest nature: for I did consent
With thy base Foes, who hellishly are bent,
To tear thee into pieces, quite undo thee,
Whilst smilingly they proffer pleasures to thee.
And now though not t' extenuate my sin,
I'le tell thee how I have been drawen in.
207
The cursed Old-man, with his evil deeds.
They with Apollyon jointly did unite
To draw a Curtain 'twixt me and the light.
And thus though I sometimes was half inclin'd
To judge for God, they basely kept me blind.
They've me corrupted with thy wilful Will,
Who, I do fear, remains most stubborn still:
Which if't be so, and he's not made to bend,
Conclude the match thou canst not wth thy friend
And I, poor I, can't make him condescend:
Some higer Power 'tis must make him yield,
Or he'l stand out and never quit the Field.
For he's a churlish piece, and thou wilt find
To what is evil, he is most enclin'd:
But hath no will at all to what is right,
A very Traytor to the Prince of Light.
But as for me, my thoughts are clearly now
Thou oughtst forthwith to yield, and meekly bow
To the great King, thy mighty Lord and Lover.
And more then this to thee I must discover;
Now, now I know thy Soveraign Lord will pry
Into thy very heart, his piercing Eye
Will find that Soul amongst the Company
Who wants the Wedding-garment, and will sever
That unprepared man in Wrath for ever
From his sweet presence: Soul, his Word doth shew
Nothing will serve but universal new.
He is a jealous God, will not endure
To see thee only counterfeited pure;
208
But claims both ears, eyes, hands, yea, the whole heart.
Now, now I see 'tis pure simplicity
That is alone accepted in his Eye.
That sin which has been like to a right hand,
For profit sweet, thou must at his command
Cut straight-way off. Nay, Soul, look thou about;
For Right-eye sins must all be pulled out.
Though they for pleasure have to thee bin dear,
Yet must they have no room, nor favour here.
Of every sin thou must thy self deny;
One sin will damn thee to Eternity,
If thou to it dost any love retain.
Nay, hark to me, Soul, listen once again;
The Law must also unto thee be dead,
And thou to it, or never canst thou wed
With Jesus Christ. If thy first Husband live,
Who to another Husband can thee give?
The smallest sin thou ever didst commit,
The Law's so strict, it damns the Soul for it.
Let this divorce thee from it, 'tis severe,
No life nor help (alas) canst thou have there.
And therefore unto Jesus come with speed,
For such a Bridegroom 'tis which thou dost need.
And th' glory of the blessed Bridal-state,
Will far exceed the greatest Potentate.
What's he? Ah Soul! what grace and favor's this?
Where dwels that Queen, nay where that Emperess,
Whose splendent glory can e're equal thine,
When thou canst say, I'm his, and he is mine?
209
A Consultation held between the Prince and Powers of Darkness, hearing how the Judgment was rectified, and the understanding of the Soul somewhat enlightened.
Most mighty Pow'rs, who once from Heav'n fell,To raise this Throne and Monarchy in Hell;
Do not despair, rouse up, all is not gone,
The Conqueror han't yet the Conquest won.
Tis far below your noble extract thus
To stand amaz'd; is there no pow'r in us,
For to revive our scattered force? let's try
What may be done, we can at last but fly.
Ne'r let us yield that she should raised be
To such a height, to such great Soveraigntie.
What, she, whose birth and pedigree was mean
To what our's was, shall she be crowned Queen,
Whilst we are made the Objects of her scorn,
Hated of God and Man? This can't be born.
What, shall eternal Arms embrace the Soul,
Whilst we in chains of Darkness do condole
Our former loss? in spite of Heaven let's try
Yet once again to spoil th' Affinity.
Satan.
Bravely resolv'd! and if in Hell there are
A legion of such Spirits, never fear
But we the Conquest yet o're Heaven shall gain,
And all the hopes and pride of Mortals stain.
We venture very little, yet shall win
All at one blow, if we prevail agin.
And there's great hopes methinks; for ev'n success
Makes foes secure, and makes our danger less.
Lo! don't you see how the fond Soul doth lie
Ope to our Arms in great security?
And though some ground is lost, yet seek about,
View well our force within, and that without.
We in her house have a strong party yet,
Who in our bands keep her unwary feet.
Let's make a search, and now more careful be,
For sad it is the wretch such light should see.
Without all doubt there has been some neglects,
Which has produc'd such undesir'd effects.
Could none keep out the light? or has her heart,
Always so true to us, play'd a false part?
Sure Will and Old-man both do stand and pause,
Or some grand Foe hath quite betray'd our cause.
We must be-stir us, and give new directions,
And by all means keep fast the Soul's affections.
Affection's still by Old-man is directed;
And Will to us does yet stand well affected.
Let us pursue our present enterprize,
With all the craft and pow'r we can devise.
Our Prince, I see, is very much offended,
And thus in short the Consultation ended.
A legion of such Spirits, never fear
But we the Conquest yet o're Heaven shall gain,
And all the hopes and pride of Mortals stain.
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All at one blow, if we prevail agin.
And there's great hopes methinks; for ev'n success
Makes foes secure, and makes our danger less.
Lo! don't you see how the fond Soul doth lie
Ope to our Arms in great security?
And though some ground is lost, yet seek about,
View well our force within, and that without.
We in her house have a strong party yet,
Who in our bands keep her unwary feet.
Let's make a search, and now more careful be,
For sad it is the wretch such light should see.
Without all doubt there has been some neglects,
Which has produc'd such undesir'd effects.
Could none keep out the light? or has her heart,
Always so true to us, play'd a false part?
Sure Will and Old-man both do stand and pause,
Or some grand Foe hath quite betray'd our cause.
We must be-stir us, and give new directions,
And by all means keep fast the Soul's affections.
Affection's still by Old-man is directed;
And Will to us does yet stand well affected.
Let us pursue our present enterprize,
With all the craft and pow'r we can devise.
Our Prince, I see, is very much offended,
And thus in short the Consultation ended.
Apollyon with whole troops of hellish Fiends
Immediately into the Soul descends,
To raise sad storms and tempests in her breast,
Who being curst, hates any should be blest.
And that he might the better have his ends
Accomplished, he thus bespeaks his Friends:
The Flesh with all its lusts, to whom he said,
Old-man, my grand Ally, I am afraid
My tottering Kingdom has not long to stand,
It to my aid thou dost not lend thy hand.
'Tis thou (old Friend) that must my cause maintain,
Or otherwise thou wilt thy self be slain.
Hark! dost not hear that flesh-amazing cry,
“Kill the Old-man, O kill, O crucifie
“The Old-man with his deeds, rise up and slay,
“Let not that Foe survive another day?
“It is that cursed Old man works our bane,
“Then let him die, let the Old-man be slain.
Bestir thy self, and try thy utmost skill,
Undoubtedly thou must be kill'd, or kill.
'Tis not a time to pause, or slack thy hand,
Negligence will not with thy int'rest stand.
Tell, tell the Soul, in vain thou dost deny
Thy self of that which satisfies the Eye;
Adorn thy self with Pearl, be deckt with Gold,
Such pleasant things are lovely to behold;
Avoid all those penurious Nicities,
That makes thee hateful in thy Neighbour's eyes;
Delight thy self in that the world 'counts brave,
And let thy senses have what e're they crave.
Say to the Soul, let not thine Ears and Eyes
Be satisfy'd alone, but please likewise
Thy Appetite, grant all the Soul desires.
And if it chance to kindle lustful fires,
Tel her the earth was fil'd with boundless treasures,
That she thereby might take her fill of pleasures.
And for that end the senses are united
In one fair body, there to be delighted.
And tell her, if she do restrain one sense
Of what it craves, she offers violence
Unto her self, and doth her self deny
Of the best good, and chief'st felicity.
Immediately into the Soul descends,
To raise sad storms and tempests in her breast,
Who being curst, hates any should be blest.
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Accomplished, he thus bespeaks his Friends:
The Flesh with all its lusts, to whom he said,
Old-man, my grand Ally, I am afraid
My tottering Kingdom has not long to stand,
It to my aid thou dost not lend thy hand.
'Tis thou (old Friend) that must my cause maintain,
Or otherwise thou wilt thy self be slain.
Hark! dost not hear that flesh-amazing cry,
“Kill the Old-man, O kill, O crucifie
“The Old-man with his deeds, rise up and slay,
“Let not that Foe survive another day?
“It is that cursed Old man works our bane,
“Then let him die, let the Old-man be slain.
Bestir thy self, and try thy utmost skill,
Undoubtedly thou must be kill'd, or kill.
'Tis not a time to pause, or slack thy hand,
Negligence will not with thy int'rest stand.
Tell, tell the Soul, in vain thou dost deny
Thy self of that which satisfies the Eye;
Adorn thy self with Pearl, be deckt with Gold,
Such pleasant things are lovely to behold;
Avoid all those penurious Nicities,
That makes thee hateful in thy Neighbour's eyes;
Delight thy self in that the world 'counts brave,
And let thy senses have what e're they crave.
Say to the Soul, let not thine Ears and Eyes
Be satisfy'd alone, but please likewise
Thy Appetite, grant all the Soul desires.
And if it chance to kindle lustful fires,
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That she thereby might take her fill of pleasures.
And for that end the senses are united
In one fair body, there to be delighted.
And tell her, if she do restrain one sense
Of what it craves, she offers violence
Unto her self, and doth her self deny
Of the best good, and chief'st felicity.
The Old-man's Reply.
This Hellish Lecture past, the Old-man breaksHis Silence; and, half Angry, thus he speaks:
Renowned Father! let thy Servant borrow
A word or two to mitigate my sorrow.
This Counsel might have done some time ago,
But now enlighted Judgment lets her know
All these are painted pleasures, and their date
Ends with her life: dread Prince! it is too late
To mind this Counsel, she will not receive it,
Her Understanding now will not believe it.
I by thy Aid have oft endeavoured
In fitter times such kind of things to spread
Before her eyes; but now of late we find
There is an alteration in her mind
Could you have took the Gospel quite away,
'Twould not have been as 'tis, you do delay.
No more of that—Old-man, take my direction
Improve thy int'rest now with her affection,
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That which the Understanding doth reprove.
This being so, if we improve our skill,
And can but keep firm unto us the Will,
If he's not over-powr'd, thou maist gain,
Thy former strength, and long thou mayest reign.
For Conscience thou may'st once again hereby
Lull fast asleep, and then also her Eye
Will grow so weak, her light diminished,
That Judgment by Affection shall be led.
And if thou canst but once this way persuade her,
Will and Affection quickly will invade her
To please her senses; and for those intents
Affection may use weighty Arguments;
And thus being overcome, she will be more
Intangled in our fetters than before.
Lusts of the eyes, and pride of life, these be
My Agents both, they are employ'd by me.
Old-man, therefore proceed, the Intrest's mine;
But be victorious, and the Conquest's thine.
Once lose the day, and thou be sure must die.
Which being lost, thou'lt suffer more than I.
Old-man.
Most dread Apollyon! thou must understand,
As I have ever been at thy command,
And am thy Servant, so I will remain;
And fight until I slay, or else am slain.
Yet let me lodg this secret in thy breast,
Canst thou be ignorant, how she's possest
214
That I do seem a Monster in her sight.
I shall not overcome her now, unless
I do appear to her in some new dress.
Time was indeed when I have been respected,
But now, alas, I greatly am suspected
Of being thy great favourite; nay, she
Affirms that I am wholly led by thee.
These things consider'd, I must be advis'd,
Fear lest I should be unawares surpriz'd.
Apollyon.
Thou hit'st the case, and I agree thereto;
Thou shalt be clothed new from top to to:
And I'le transform my shape, and will appear,
For thy assistance; haste, and nothing fear.
With specious shews of love, do thou pretend,
Thou com'st to reason with her as a Friend,
Not meaning to perswade her to remove,
Or to withdraw in any case her love
From her great Soveraign, whom thou maist confess
Can only her advance to happiness;
Yet tell her she's too strict, she's too precise,
She'l never hold it; bid her to be wise:
Soft pace goes far; an over-heated zeal
Ruins the Soul, and spoils the Common-weal.
Go bid her carry 't in her Princes sight
With Saint-like sweetness; bid her to delight
In his presence, and there demurely stand;
But when she's absent, let both heart and hand
215
With sense-deluding Objects. Furthermore,
Tell her he's not so strict as to debar
Her of these joys below, for her's they are:
Of which Paul rightly speaks, this is the sum,
All things are yours, both present and to come;
Thus we'l combine, and all our pow'rs unite,
And in this mode and curious dress incite
Th' enligten'd Soul to play the Hypocrite.
The flesh being thus with th' pow'rs of Hell agreed,
The inward Foe bestirs himself with speed;
Vile Traytor like, a Panther doth become,
To work about the Soul's eternal doom.
A cruel Serpent, in a Saint-like guize,
The better to trapan the long'd-for prize.
As Balaam, once, and Balak, so do they
Seek to find out some curst insidious way,
The poor unwary Soul for to betray
To the last Death's dark and eternal shade.
Balaam advises Balak to invade
God's Heritage, 'twas by the beauteous train
Of Moabite Damsels, who he thought might gain
The Israelites affections, and thereby
Make them offend against the Majesty
Of God All-mighty, by whose powerful hand
Jacob prevails, and Moab could no wise stand.
Ah! see how the wise Fowler lays his snare
To catch the poor enlighten'd Soul. Beware,
And do not close thy new-inlighten'd Eyes;
Under the Golden clew the Panther lies.
The Eye-intangled Creature stands to gaze
Upon the lovely Panther in a maze,
Till the deluded Beast doth by his stay
Unwillingly become the Panther's prey.
Just as you see sometimes the nimble fly,
Dancing about the flame, advance so nigh,
Until it's taken and doth burn its wings.
Thus from it self its own destruction springs.
Or like two Men, who running in a Race,
With hopes the Golden Diadem shall grace
The Victor's Temples, in the way doth lie
A Golden Ball; one of them casts his Eye
Upom the same, makes but a little stay
To take it up, the other hasts away,
And never turns aside to fix his Eyes
On this or that, but runs and wins the prize:
The other he the Ball espies, is loth
To let it lie: in hopes to get them both,
He loses both: for when he comes to try,
Doth find the Golden Ball deceiv'd his Eye;
For when he thought to lay it up in store,
Finds it an Earthly Ball, but gilded o're.
O! then he grieves, but then it is too late,
His Eye's the cause of his unhappy fate.
A fit resemblance: for thus stands the case
With every Soul. This mortal life's the Race.
A blessed Kingdom crowns the Victor's brow
With endless glory, but whilst here below
We're tempt by Earthly pleasures, that's the Ball;
Satan's the Sopister, who lets it fall.
Now look about thee, Soul, thy time's at hand,
Thine Enemies approach, nay, lo they stand
Ready prepared, and resolv'd to try
Both strength and craft to get the Victory.
Thy precious Lord is the eternal Prize,
Mind well thy Mark, take heed of wanton Eyes,
If Pleasures thou, or Honours, shouldst espy,
Stop not to gaze, run swift, and pass them by;
Take no regard unto that painted Ball,
Which Satan, to deceive thee, has let fall.
The Old-man's near (the flesh) in a new dress,
And whose with him? Ah! thou mayst eas'ly guess.
'Tis to deceive thee he appears so trim,
And thou mayst see the Devil plain in him.
The pow'rs of Hell in thee will try their skill
For to insnare Affections, and the Will;
Nay, Satan has got them to take his side;
Thus treacherously thy heart they do divide.
The inward Foe bestirs himself with speed;
Vile Traytor like, a Panther doth become,
To work about the Soul's eternal doom.
A cruel Serpent, in a Saint-like guize,
The better to trapan the long'd-for prize.
As Balaam, once, and Balak, so do they
Seek to find out some curst insidious way,
The poor unwary Soul for to betray
To the last Death's dark and eternal shade.
Balaam advises Balak to invade
God's Heritage, 'twas by the beauteous train
Of Moabite Damsels, who he thought might gain
The Israelites affections, and thereby
Make them offend against the Majesty
Of God All-mighty, by whose powerful hand
Jacob prevails, and Moab could no wise stand.
Ah! see how the wise Fowler lays his snare
To catch the poor enlighten'd Soul. Beware,
216
Under the Golden clew the Panther lies.
The Eye-intangled Creature stands to gaze
Upon the lovely Panther in a maze,
Till the deluded Beast doth by his stay
Unwillingly become the Panther's prey.
Just as you see sometimes the nimble fly,
Dancing about the flame, advance so nigh,
Until it's taken and doth burn its wings.
Thus from it self its own destruction springs.
Or like two Men, who running in a Race,
With hopes the Golden Diadem shall grace
The Victor's Temples, in the way doth lie
A Golden Ball; one of them casts his Eye
Upom the same, makes but a little stay
To take it up, the other hasts away,
And never turns aside to fix his Eyes
On this or that, but runs and wins the prize:
The other he the Ball espies, is loth
To let it lie: in hopes to get them both,
He loses both: for when he comes to try,
Doth find the Golden Ball deceiv'd his Eye;
For when he thought to lay it up in store,
Finds it an Earthly Ball, but gilded o're.
O! then he grieves, but then it is too late,
His Eye's the cause of his unhappy fate.
A fit resemblance: for thus stands the case
With every Soul. This mortal life's the Race.
A blessed Kingdom crowns the Victor's brow
With endless glory, but whilst here below
217
Satan's the Sopister, who lets it fall.
Now look about thee, Soul, thy time's at hand,
Thine Enemies approach, nay, lo they stand
Ready prepared, and resolv'd to try
Both strength and craft to get the Victory.
Thy precious Lord is the eternal Prize,
Mind well thy Mark, take heed of wanton Eyes,
If Pleasures thou, or Honours, shouldst espy,
Stop not to gaze, run swift, and pass them by;
Take no regard unto that painted Ball,
Which Satan, to deceive thee, has let fall.
The Old-man's near (the flesh) in a new dress,
And whose with him? Ah! thou mayst eas'ly guess.
'Tis to deceive thee he appears so trim,
And thou mayst see the Devil plain in him.
The pow'rs of Hell in thee will try their skill
For to insnare Affections, and the Will;
Nay, Satan has got them to take his side;
Thus treacherously thy heart they do divide.
Thus though the Soul obtains inlightned Eyes,
Whilst thicker darkness vanishes and flies,
Yet is she vex'd with sore perplexities
'Twixt two extreams and two contrary Laws,
Judgment is led by one, Affection draws
The other way; she can't tell which to please:
She knows what's best, but strong temptations seize
Upon her so, that she's at a great stand,
This way she goes, then to the other hand.
Her faculties fall out, they disagree.
O look, methinks I in the Soul do see
Four mighty Warriours draw into the Field
To try their Valour, and refuse to yield
Unto each other: here's two against two:
Judgment with Conscience are united so,
That Will and the Affections do resolve
The trembling Soul in Wars still to involve.
Will rouses up, refuses to give way,
That his great opposites should have the day;
Apollyon also with him doth take part,
To hold his own, and to beguile her heart.
They meet, they strike, & blows exchange for blows,
Darts are let fly, they with each other close.
The conflict's sharp, 'tis very hard to know
Which will the other beat and overthrow.
Will's hard put to't, nay, had lost the day quite,
But that more Traytors join'd him in the Fight.
Th' Old-man rouses with rebellious flesh,
And these domestick Wars renew afresh.
They fight about the Soul, would know who must
Have th' heart and its affections, Christ, or Lust.
Satan by inward motions straight reply'd,
My sentence is, we'l equally divide,
And give alike, both can't have the whole heart;
Christ take a piece, and I the other part.
He'd have the question by the Sword decided,
Knowing the Soul lies dead whilst 'tis divided.
Whilst thicker darkness vanishes and flies,
Yet is she vex'd with sore perplexities
'Twixt two extreams and two contrary Laws,
Judgment is led by one, Affection draws
The other way; she can't tell which to please:
She knows what's best, but strong temptations seize
Upon her so, that she's at a great stand,
This way she goes, then to the other hand.
218
O look, methinks I in the Soul do see
Four mighty Warriours draw into the Field
To try their Valour, and refuse to yield
Unto each other: here's two against two:
Judgment with Conscience are united so,
That Will and the Affections do resolve
The trembling Soul in Wars still to involve.
Will rouses up, refuses to give way,
That his great opposites should have the day;
Apollyon also with him doth take part,
To hold his own, and to beguile her heart.
They meet, they strike, & blows exchange for blows,
Darts are let fly, they with each other close.
The conflict's sharp, 'tis very hard to know
Which will the other beat and overthrow.
Will's hard put to't, nay, had lost the day quite,
But that more Traytors join'd him in the Fight.
Th' Old-man rouses with rebellious flesh,
And these domestick Wars renew afresh.
They fight about the Soul, would know who must
Have th' heart and its affections, Christ, or Lust.
Satan by inward motions straight reply'd,
My sentence is, we'l equally divide,
And give alike, both can't have the whole heart;
Christ take a piece, and I the other part.
He'd have the question by the Sword decided,
Knowing the Soul lies dead whilst 'tis divided.
Thus 'tis with many. Ah! look well within,
Judgment convinc'd may be, yet may thy sin
In thy affections live, and also thou
Mayst not to th' pow'r of Grace and Jesus bow.
Thou mayst have light, and speak as Balaam did,
Whose Eyes Jehovah so far opened,
That he cry'd out, O happy Israel!
How goodly are the Tents where thou dost dwell!
He (like to many Preachers) did commend
God's holy ways, and wish'd that his last end
Might be like his, who righteously doth live,
And his whole heart doth unto Jesus give.
He to this purpose spake, yet ne'r-the-less,
Lov'd best the wages of unrighteousness.
The Understanding may much light receive,
And yet may not the Soul rightly believe,
Nor be espous'd to Christ, may not rely
On him alone in true simplicitie.
But to proceed; with careful Eye let's view
What follows here, what 'tis doth next ensue.
As Combatants sometimes a Parly beat
After some sharp Encounter, or retreat,
And with each other do expostulate
About their rising, or their sinking sate.
Even so likewise do these strong inward Foes,
They pause as 'twere, parly, then fall to blows.
Judgment convinc'd may be, yet may thy sin
219
Mayst not to th' pow'r of Grace and Jesus bow.
Thou mayst have light, and speak as Balaam did,
Whose Eyes Jehovah so far opened,
That he cry'd out, O happy Israel!
How goodly are the Tents where thou dost dwell!
He (like to many Preachers) did commend
God's holy ways, and wish'd that his last end
Might be like his, who righteously doth live,
And his whole heart doth unto Jesus give.
He to this purpose spake, yet ne'r-the-less,
Lov'd best the wages of unrighteousness.
The Understanding may much light receive,
And yet may not the Soul rightly believe,
Nor be espous'd to Christ, may not rely
On him alone in true simplicitie.
But to proceed; with careful Eye let's view
What follows here, what 'tis doth next ensue.
As Combatants sometimes a Parly beat
After some sharp Encounter, or retreat,
And with each other do expostulate
About their rising, or their sinking sate.
Even so likewise do these strong inward Foes,
They pause as 'twere, parly, then fall to blows.
The Old-man moves, and presently he meets
With the poor Soul, and thus Affection greets:
Thou for my Int'rest ever yet hast been,
And sweet (says he) Ah! sweet's a bosom sin;
220
Unto my will; and now, indear'd Affection.
Our Master, great Apollyon, doth command
That we unite our force, and faithful stand
Against our Foes; thy int'rest is invaded,
Thou seest by whom, thou knowst who are inraged:
Hold fast thine own, ne'r let those Objects go
Thou lov'st so dear, 'twill be thy overthrow;
And thereby too the Soul will unawares
Be much involv'd in more vexatious cares;
And those delights which thou wert wont to have,
Will be obscured in the darksom Cave
Of black Oblivion, buried out of sight,
Should once the Soul close with this Prince of Light.
Not that we think thou canst 'ith' least approve
Of this, whereby she should withdraw her love
Quite from those things which we esteem so dear;
For Heart and Will some ways do yet adhere
Unto our Int'rest; yet basely misled
She is, e're since she's been enlightened.
We are content she should cry up the choice
She thinks to make, let her in that rejoice;
Yet there's a secret we would fain reveal,
She's blinded by her over-fervent zeal.
It is enough since she has made such vows
To love him so, as to become his Spouse,
Why should she not have yet sweet sensual pleasures,
To please the flesh, to whom the greatest treasures
Of right belongs that ever were possest?
How can her glory better be exprest,
221
Joys here below as well as bliss in Heaven?
Let her not fear to spend her days in mirth,
That's Heir of Heaven, and Lady of the Earth.
This think upon, and secretly impart
So sweet a Message to the yielding heart.
Affection hears, and willingly consented,
And strives with this to make the Soul contented;
Nay, with it too, the Soul began to close,
Until poor Conscience did them both oppose.
Affection, Will, and Conscience talk a while;
Apollyon straight starts up, and with a smile
Salutes them all, seeming as if he were
One unconcern'd with any matters there:
Who well observing how these three contended,
Begs leave to speak a word, as he pretended,
In favour to them all, desiring he
Might at this time their Moderator be.
At this they seem'd to pause, and stand all mute,
At length the Soul, but faintly, grants his Suit:
The Devil having thus obtain'd his end,
Salutes the Soul, Fair Virgin, I commend
Thy happy choice, almost, if not quite made;
Yet, if all matters were but wisely weigh'd,
Thou'lt find Affection has advis'd thee right;
And 't can't be safe such Counsel now to slight.
The greatest honours oft, for want of care
In just improvements, have been made a snare.
What bount'ous Heav'n & Earth affords, refuse not;
Be not so nice; ye 'buse the things you use not.
222
Into Celestial Joys, yet quite bereave thee
Of present sweetness? Tush! this cannot be;
He will sure ne'r such wrong do unto thee.
Reflect not what thy former state hath been,
But what 'tis now, a Saint, more than a Queen.
Things present, and to come, nay, all are thine;
Come, merry be, drinkof the choiest Wine.
Thine honour's great, and let thy joys abound;
Chant to the Viol, hear the Organ sound;
Let the melodious Lute and Harp invite thee,
And each transcendent joy on Earth delight thee.
A sweet is, (What?) a thing reproacht, call'd Sin;
It in the bosom lies, has harbour'd bin
By chiefest Saints: O then, do not deny
The present good, that's pleasant to the Eye.
But if thou fearst thou shouldst thy Lord offend;
Observe this Rule, which I shall next commend:
Let all thy words be pleasant, smooth, and sweet,
When him thou dost in daily Duties meet.
Seem to be chast, and let no Saints espy
The smallest sign of Immoralitie.
Be grave in speech, and lowly when thou meetst them,
And call them thy dear Brethren, when thou greetst them.
And if thy Soveraign seek to have thy heart,
Let him have some, yet must the World have part.
Call him thy Friend, thy Saviour, own him so;
And to poor Saints thou must some kindness show,
Or else thy covetousness they will espy,
And thou'l be charg'd, (with what?) Idolatry.
223
Amongst thy old acquaintance, (yet his Foes)
Let them know nothing, let no sentence fall
Which may discover this to them at all.
Thus having spoken briefly, be thou wise,
And with thy Friends, my Agents, now advise.
Thus ends the Old-man, and Apollyon's suit;
And the poor Soul in this assault stood mute,
Not well discerning who these thoughts did dart
Into her yielding and divided heart.
Nor hath she got that grave and good inspection
What's best to do, and where to take direction,
But goes to th' Flesh, with that doth she consult,
Which quickly brings her to a sad result.
I hitherto, saith she, have been deprest;
What shall I do, how may I be at rest?
The Flesh, or corrupt Affection.
What's the reversion of a Prince's State,When't must be purchas'd at so dear a rate?
'Tis but arriving at a seeming pitch
Of Honour, and to be conceited Rich.
If there's no way to get this promis'd Crown,
But to incur the world'ds vile scoff and frown,
With loss of life, and all we call our own;
'Twould folly be to seek for such a prize:
For what we have is pleasant in our Eyes.
A real thing, and present, as 'tis dear;
To part with it, is more than flesh can bear.
224
A Medium to enjoy them both, is found;
Wherefore 'tis best in this perplexing case,
For to unite, that Counsel let's imbrace.
Hast thou forgot, or knowst thou not, mine eyes
Have been enlight'ned? let us first advise
With Judgment, lest this over-rash conclusion
Turn all our Consultations to confusion.
It would be well could we (I must confess)
Those sinful sweets and present joys possess,
Without the loss of those transcendant pleasures
That's in Jehova's unconfined Treasures.
But what if Judgment says it must not be,
Nor Truth nor Conscience with us will agree?
If so, what shall I do, what shall I choose?
Whilst I secure one, I both may loose.
The flesh, or corrupt Affection's Reply.
One word I'le briefly drop, and speak no more.Thou'st put thy case to Conscience heretofore;
And what redress pray had you, what didst gain?
Did he not gripe thee sorely for thy pain?
Wilt thou neglect so sweet advice as this?
Judgment and Conscience both may judg amiss.
But if thou lik'st it, and canst be contented,
By knawing Conscience still to be tormented;
Then I'le be silent, and improve thy skill,
Yet will I love and like where I did still.
225
Would I, do'st think, have spoken the least word,
Once to dissuade thee from so just a thing?
Nay, Soul, thou oughtst, nay must respect this King:
But whilst he's absent, whilst he dwells on high,
Thou hast no other Object for thine Eye
Then these ------
Consult with Conscience, now do what you please,
But as for me I am for present ease.
CHAP. VI.
Shewing the policy of Satan in keeping the Soul from a full closing with Christ. Also the nature of a bosom sin.
No sooner was this sharp Encounter over,
But in a little time you might discover
The Soul half vanquish'd by her weak opposing,
Sometimes resisting, and then faintly closing.
Sometimes you'l see her just as 'twere consenting,
And presently you'l find her much lamenting,
Beset on every side with troops of fears;
Which makes her to bedew her cheeks with tears;
Complains to Conscience, hoping for relief,
Till Conscience checks her, and renews her grief.
Sometimes she's drawn to fix her tender Eye
Upon the Gospel's pure Simplicitie.
Her love-sick thoughts at sits seem to aspire,
As if she could pass through hot flames of fire,
And say with Peter, Though all should deny
Thee, my blest Lord, yet so will never I.
But when the Soul once comes to see the Cross,
Its courage fails, O! 'tis at a great loss.
When she perceives she and her lusts must part,
O that sticks close, go's to the very heart.
The thoughts of that is hard; 'tis Self-denial
That puts the Soul upon the deepest tryal.
Some ready are to make a large profession
In hopes of somewhat, perhaps the possession
Of Heav'n at last; but straight sounds in their Ear,
Deny thy self; come, part with all that's dear
For Jesus sake. Ah! this they cannot bear.
The Young-man ran, he seem'd to be in haste,
But news of this, did all his courage blast.
The gate is strait; O! 'tis no easie thing
To for-go all in love to this blest King.
The way is narrow which leads unto life,
'Tis Self-denial, that begets the strife.
'Twixt Flesh and Spirit there's a constant War,
They opposite, and quite contraries are.
As Fire and Water, Light and Darkness be,
Such diff'ring Natures never can agree;
So between these is like antipathie.
The flesh is like the Young-man, give's attention
To what the Preacher says, until he mention
His bosom-sin, the Lust he so much loves;
This makes him face about, and back removes.
He goes away, yet lov'd to hear Christ preach
Up Legal works; but when he came to reach
His Dalilah, that blow so griev'd his heart,
That Christ and he immediately must part.
His great possessions could not give to th' poor,
Though he had th' promise of abundance more
Treasures above; but being not content
To pay that price for Heaven, away he went.
How loth's the Flesh to yield, that Grace may win
The happy Conquest of a Bosom-sin?
How will it plead, how wittily debate,
Excuse, or argue, to extenuate
The Crime? at length it yields, forc'd to give way.
But first cry's out, O give me leave to stay
A year, a month, a week, at least one day:
But when it sees it cannot that obtain,
The loser looks, and pleads yet once again:
Ah! let my fond, my fainting, breaking heart
Hug it the other time, before we part.
Much like Rebeckah's Friends, the flesh appears;
It parts with sin, but 'tis with floods of tears.
Each has his Darling, his beloved sin,
Whilst unconverted, much delighted in.
Give me, say some, but leave to heap up Treasure,
And I'le abandon all forbidden pleasure.
Others again there be that only prize
The popular applause of being wise,
A name of being learn'd, judicious, grave,
Able Divines, 'tis this too many crave.
Some boast their natural and acquired parts,
Which take the ears of some, seduce the hearts
Of many simple Souls who go astray;
While others are for feasting day by day.
There's some delight in drinking choice of Wine,
Whilst others are to Gaming more inclin'd.
That sin that finds more favour than the rest,
That is thy darling sin, thou knowst it best.
O search thy bosom well, pry, pry within,
Till thou findst out thy own beloved sin,
That gives thee kisses, that's the lust that slays thee,
O that's the cursed Judas which betrays thee.
Ah! see how blind, how foolish Sinners are;
Like to rebellious Saul, they'l Agog spare,
They entertain this Lust close in their heart,
And are indeed as loth with it to part,
As with a Hand or Eye; and therefore she
Crys out with Sampson, O this pleases me.
Ah! I will freely part with all the rest,
Might I but hug this Darling in my breast.
Souls once convicted, quickly do begin
To hate, detest, and leave all grosser sin;
Sins visible unto the natural Eye,
Such which are of the black and deepest die,
They are possest with such a dread and fear,
They'l not touch them, nor venture to come near
These foul defilements—nay, such spots disdain;
Then presently conclude they'r born again,
And shall be sav'd, though bosom lusts remain.
And if at any time some beams of light
Discover secret Sin, or Conscience smite,
Or touch the Dalilah, they then begin
To think of making covers for such sin,
(Which in the secret of the bosom lies)
With the fair Mantle of Infirmities.
But if at any time the searching Word,
Which cuts and trys like a two-edged Sword,
Pierces the heart, and will divide asunder
The soul and spirit, and e're long bring under
These Soul-deluding Covers, and espies
Those secret Lusts which in each corner lies;
And doth unmask those evils, and disclose,
The Soul's hypocrisie, yea and expose
It's nakedness to view, unto its shame:
Now, now the Flesh begins to change the name
Of every Lust that lies so closely hidden,
Soul, touch not, saith the Lord, 'tis Fruit forbidden.
O! saith the Flesh, 'tis pleasant in mine eyes;
Yea, says the Tempter, Soul, 'twill make thee wise;
Taste, it is sweet, the liberty is thine;
And Wisdom is a Vertue most divine.
And Vertue, saith the flesh, will make thee shine.
Christ he prohibits Souls from taking pleasure
In laying up their bags of Earthly Treasure;
For these things have in them a secret Art,
To steal away th' affections of the Heart:
Christ tells the Soul, Our Heavenly Father knows
What 'tis we want, and so much he allows
Which he sees best, which we contentedly
Should take from him, who will our wants supply,
And no good thing from us will he deny.
But hark! What saith the Flesh? O Soul, saith she,
In this give ear and harken unto me:
'Tis not unlawful here to lay up Treasure,
Provided thou therein tak'st no great pleasure.
The World thou seest disdains those wch are poor;
And if thou 'rt Rich, thou'lt be ador'd the more.
Nay, if thou once arrivest at the pitch
Of being by the World accounted Rich,
Thy words will far the greater influence have,
And may'st thereby perchance more rich ones save.
Besides all this; when Rich, thou mayest feed
With thy abundance such who suffer need.
And this also will take thee off from care,
Which is to some a most perplexing snare,
And thou for God may'st the more hours spare.
If thou art poor, and of strict conversation,
That will not be a fit Accommodation
To draw men by; for some thereby are frighted,
Who might by temporizing be invited.
Accommodate thy self to all; become
All things to all men, that thou mayst gain some.
These subtil Covers doth the Flesh devise,
To hide those sins which in the bosom lies;
And by this crafty course perhaps a while
The poor unwary Soul it may beguile.
And if Apollyon sees the Creature yield
In this respect, he's Victor in the Field;
He glory's in the Conquest he has gain'd,
As if a Diadem he had obtain'd.
But in a little time you might discover
The Soul half vanquish'd by her weak opposing,
Sometimes resisting, and then faintly closing.
Sometimes you'l see her just as 'twere consenting,
And presently you'l find her much lamenting,
Beset on every side with troops of fears;
Which makes her to bedew her cheeks with tears;
Complains to Conscience, hoping for relief,
Till Conscience checks her, and renews her grief.
Sometimes she's drawn to fix her tender Eye
Upon the Gospel's pure Simplicitie.
Her love-sick thoughts at sits seem to aspire,
As if she could pass through hot flames of fire,
226
Thee, my blest Lord, yet so will never I.
But when the Soul once comes to see the Cross,
Its courage fails, O! 'tis at a great loss.
When she perceives she and her lusts must part,
O that sticks close, go's to the very heart.
The thoughts of that is hard; 'tis Self-denial
That puts the Soul upon the deepest tryal.
Some ready are to make a large profession
In hopes of somewhat, perhaps the possession
Of Heav'n at last; but straight sounds in their Ear,
Deny thy self; come, part with all that's dear
For Jesus sake. Ah! this they cannot bear.
The Young-man ran, he seem'd to be in haste,
But news of this, did all his courage blast.
The gate is strait; O! 'tis no easie thing
To for-go all in love to this blest King.
The way is narrow which leads unto life,
'Tis Self-denial, that begets the strife.
'Twixt Flesh and Spirit there's a constant War,
They opposite, and quite contraries are.
As Fire and Water, Light and Darkness be,
Such diff'ring Natures never can agree;
So between these is like antipathie.
The flesh is like the Young-man, give's attention
To what the Preacher says, until he mention
His bosom-sin, the Lust he so much loves;
This makes him face about, and back removes.
He goes away, yet lov'd to hear Christ preach
Up Legal works; but when he came to reach
227
That Christ and he immediately must part.
His great possessions could not give to th' poor,
Though he had th' promise of abundance more
Treasures above; but being not content
To pay that price for Heaven, away he went.
How loth's the Flesh to yield, that Grace may win
The happy Conquest of a Bosom-sin?
How will it plead, how wittily debate,
Excuse, or argue, to extenuate
The Crime? at length it yields, forc'd to give way.
But first cry's out, O give me leave to stay
A year, a month, a week, at least one day:
But when it sees it cannot that obtain,
The loser looks, and pleads yet once again:
Ah! let my fond, my fainting, breaking heart
Hug it the other time, before we part.
Much like Rebeckah's Friends, the flesh appears;
It parts with sin, but 'tis with floods of tears.
Each has his Darling, his beloved sin,
Whilst unconverted, much delighted in.
Give me, say some, but leave to heap up Treasure,
And I'le abandon all forbidden pleasure.
Others again there be that only prize
The popular applause of being wise,
A name of being learn'd, judicious, grave,
Able Divines, 'tis this too many crave.
Some boast their natural and acquired parts,
Which take the ears of some, seduce the hearts
228
While others are for feasting day by day.
There's some delight in drinking choice of Wine,
Whilst others are to Gaming more inclin'd.
That sin that finds more favour than the rest,
That is thy darling sin, thou knowst it best.
O search thy bosom well, pry, pry within,
Till thou findst out thy own beloved sin,
That gives thee kisses, that's the lust that slays thee,
O that's the cursed Judas which betrays thee.
Ah! see how blind, how foolish Sinners are;
Like to rebellious Saul, they'l Agog spare,
They entertain this Lust close in their heart,
And are indeed as loth with it to part,
As with a Hand or Eye; and therefore she
Crys out with Sampson, O this pleases me.
Ah! I will freely part with all the rest,
Might I but hug this Darling in my breast.
Souls once convicted, quickly do begin
To hate, detest, and leave all grosser sin;
Sins visible unto the natural Eye,
Such which are of the black and deepest die,
They are possest with such a dread and fear,
They'l not touch them, nor venture to come near
These foul defilements—nay, such spots disdain;
Then presently conclude they'r born again,
And shall be sav'd, though bosom lusts remain.
And if at any time some beams of light
Discover secret Sin, or Conscience smite,
229
To think of making covers for such sin,
(Which in the secret of the bosom lies)
With the fair Mantle of Infirmities.
But if at any time the searching Word,
Which cuts and trys like a two-edged Sword,
Pierces the heart, and will divide asunder
The soul and spirit, and e're long bring under
These Soul-deluding Covers, and espies
Those secret Lusts which in each corner lies;
And doth unmask those evils, and disclose,
The Soul's hypocrisie, yea and expose
It's nakedness to view, unto its shame:
Now, now the Flesh begins to change the name
Of every Lust that lies so closely hidden,
Soul, touch not, saith the Lord, 'tis Fruit forbidden.
O! saith the Flesh, 'tis pleasant in mine eyes;
Yea, says the Tempter, Soul, 'twill make thee wise;
Taste, it is sweet, the liberty is thine;
And Wisdom is a Vertue most divine.
And Vertue, saith the flesh, will make thee shine.
Christ he prohibits Souls from taking pleasure
In laying up their bags of Earthly Treasure;
For these things have in them a secret Art,
To steal away th' affections of the Heart:
Christ tells the Soul, Our Heavenly Father knows
What 'tis we want, and so much he allows
Which he sees best, which we contentedly
Should take from him, who will our wants supply,
And no good thing from us will he deny.
230
In this give ear and harken unto me:
'Tis not unlawful here to lay up Treasure,
Provided thou therein tak'st no great pleasure.
The World thou seest disdains those wch are poor;
And if thou 'rt Rich, thou'lt be ador'd the more.
Nay, if thou once arrivest at the pitch
Of being by the World accounted Rich,
Thy words will far the greater influence have,
And may'st thereby perchance more rich ones save.
Besides all this; when Rich, thou mayest feed
With thy abundance such who suffer need.
And this also will take thee off from care,
Which is to some a most perplexing snare,
And thou for God may'st the more hours spare.
If thou art poor, and of strict conversation,
That will not be a fit Accommodation
To draw men by; for some thereby are frighted,
Who might by temporizing be invited.
Accommodate thy self to all; become
All things to all men, that thou mayst gain some.
These subtil Covers doth the Flesh devise,
To hide those sins which in the bosom lies;
And by this crafty course perhaps a while
The poor unwary Soul it may beguile.
And if Apollyon sees the Creature yield
In this respect, he's Victor in the Field;
He glory's in the Conquest he has gain'd,
As if a Diadem he had obtain'd.
231
But now, behold, here comes her former Friend,
Christ's precious Love this once to recommend.
True Ministers are filled with compassion,
As their long patience's worth all commendation.
The preciousness now of the Soul you'l hear,
And how things go within he will declare.
He'l call her Conscience to examination;
For Conscience 'tis must give a full Relation
Of all false Covers—Nay, and will reveal
Those secret Lusts the Flesh seems to conceal.
Christ's precious Love this once to recommend.
True Ministers are filled with compassion,
As their long patience's worth all commendation.
The preciousness now of the Soul you'l hear,
And how things go within he will declare.
He'l call her Conscience to examination;
For Conscience 'tis must give a full Relation
Of all false Covers—Nay, and will reveal
Those secret Lusts the Flesh seems to conceal.
Conscience, thou knowst, and privy art to all
The secret strivings, and the words let fall
To bring the Soul to join in bonds of love
With Jesus Christ, and finally remove
Her heart from sin, yea from the smallest evil;
One sin belov'd will send her to the Devil.
Speak therefore now, her inward parts reveal:
What faith hath she, what love, and O what zeal,
What indignation, care, and what desire?
Is she inflamed, is she all on fire
In love to him, who out of love did die,
Her to espouse, and save Eternally?
Conscience.
She loves, (but who?) she sighs, Sir, shall I speak?
She's doubtful still, she knows not which to take.
Some kind of love, some faint desires do rise
Within her breast, but then the Enemies
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That she's amaz'd, and put into a pause.
Although she dos love Christ, I must confess,
Some secret sin is favour'd ner'theless.
She wants some glorious Rays, her eyes are dim,
She never yet had a true sight of him.
I must speak all, e'en the whole truth impart;
Alas! she has new Objects in her heart.
Her love is treach'rous, her affections burn
Chiefly to self, loves Christ to serve her turn.
And such a Legalist she's become now,
To her own drag she blindfoldly do's vow
To offer Incense; in her seeming grace
She glory's much, nay, sets it in the place
Of Jesus Christ, and on that Idol pores;
This is the Object now she most adores.
Theologue.
Wilt thou expose thy self to scoff and shame,
And bring a blot for ever on thy name?
A Monster (thou) in Nature wilt appear,
To all who of thy faults and folly hear.
Canst be so vile, so impudent, and base?
Disloyal Soul! how canst thou still give place
To Jesus's Foes, and up an Idol set?
What, offer sacrifice to thy own Net?
I stand amaz'd! what guilt is on thy head?
Remember that black Bill, what crimes are spread
Before thine Eyes already. But, now, further,
I am to charge thee with another Murther,
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Thou letst him be betrayed to the Curse
Of a most shameful Death; nay, what exceeds,
His hands, feet, sides die, and his Soul still bleeds;
And what is worst of all, he is God's Son,
On whom this bloody Tragedy was done;
Thy Friend (O Soul) who came down from above,
To sue to thee for kindnesses and love.
And yet doth he, whose blood thy hands have shed,
Sue unto thee; nay his deep wounds do plead
For mercy, and he's able to forgive:
He's God as well as Man; dead, yet doth live.
What Object is't thou hast got in thine eye?
Dost think the Law can help thee? make hast, fly;
For 'tis by that thou stand'st condemn'd to die.
Seek a Divorcement: stand'st thou still in doubt
'Twixt Law & Grace? strange! canst thou not find out
What Judgment told thee? sure thou knowest better:
It is severe, O! 'tis a killing Letter.
'Tis time to leave that Husband, and for-go
All hopes from him, who seeks thy overthrow.
Christ has fulfill'd it, he alone has life;
And if thou once art his espoused Wife,
Thou wilt receive a full discharge from all
Those Debts, those Deaths, and dangers wch inthral
The Souls of those, whose blind deceived breast
Seeks to self-righteousness for peace and rest.
Thou canst not (Soul) become a Virgin Spouse,
Until thou art divorced from all vows
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Must thou the lesser love, and kindness bear.
Thy Fathers house, and all, thou must forsake,
If thou this happy Contract e're dost make.
Yield thy whole heart to Christ, bend to his feet
In pure simplicity; there's ground for it:
For he that lay within a Virgins Womb,
And who was buried in a Virgin-Tomb;
He that alone did lead a Virgin-Life,
Must have a chast and holy Virgin-Wife.
Needst thou more motives still? what shall I say,
What shall I speak to move thee? I will lay
The nature of the Soul unto thy view:
Wouldst know its worth? read then what dos ensue,
First.
'Tis capable, such is its nature, State,On Great Jehovah's Pow'r to contemplate:
It searches, prys and nicely looks about
On Nature's frame, and finds the former out.
David's amaz'd when he doth cast his Eye
On all the glorious things beneath the skie;
He looked up and down, above, and under,
And stood astonish'd, seeing cause of Wonder;
And then reflecting his own frame, did see
Nature's great Volume, blest Epitome.
Fearfully am I made: how canst tell?
His Answer is, My Soul knows it full well.
We should have known no more of Earth, or Heav'n
Than the brute beasts, had not Jehovah given
This precious Soul to us: O then be wise,
And it secure as the chiefest Prize.
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Secondly.
Nay more then this, the Scripture makes relation'Tis capable of glorious Inspiration.
There is in Man a Soul, a Spirit do's live
And move in him, to which the Lord doth give
By Inspiration, Wisdom, Knowledg, Fear,
That fools know more than the Philosopher.
The Soul's God's Candle, a light of acceptation,
But from himself must come its Information.
Shall not this Candle (pray you) lighted be?
O let God's Spirit (Soul) inlighten thee.
Thirdly.
Nay, once again, it's Nature to declare,'Twill sweet Impressions take, God's Image bear.
It bore it once, O then, how did it shine!
A glorious shadow of him, who's Divine:
But now 'tis blurr'd, and soil'd by filthy dust;
O 'tis defac'd and spoil'd by means of Lust.
But he who stamp'd it there at first, can make
It once again a new Impression take:
He can wash off the soil, refine the Ore,
And make it shine fairer than heretofore.
O what a glorious thing! how rare 'twill be,
When God renews his Image once in thee?
Lose not the Soul, (the wax) for nought can bear
This Image then, nor can that loss repair.
Fourthly.
The Soul's a glorious Piece, wherein doth lieSo great an Excellence, as doth out-vy
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That's capable of so great Dignitie
To be espoused to the Glorious Three.
Strange condescention! an amazing thing!
What joy and ravishment from hence may spring
Up unto thee, when into 't thou dost pry;
Will the high God take sweet complacency
In such a one? What, doth he please to chuse
Thee for his dear Consort, make thee his Spouse?
May'st thou in Christ's dear Arms and Bosom lie?
Ah! is the Soul the Jewel of his Eye?
Can any joy and sweetness be like this?
Can worldly Comforts raise thee to such bliss?
What, is thy Soul capable of such Union;
And doth there flow from thence such rare Communion?
Admire it! is not one kiss worth more,
Than all the Riches of the Eastern shore?
O! lose not then thy Soul! Ah! who would miss
Of this sweet Union and Eternal Bliss?
Fifthly.
It's nature, worth, and rare transcendency,Appears in that great incongruity,
And weakness of all Creatures to suffice it;
And from this ground great cause hast thou to prize it.
Nothing but God himself can satisfie
That precious Soul, which in thy breast do's lie.
The Univers's too little, th' whole Creation
Will not appease its longing expectation.
How vast's the Deeps? how lofty the desires
Of Man's poor Soul, above all bounds aspires;
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And still it craves, its wishes know no measure.
It walks again, it rambles, O it flies,
And ransacks all the secret Treasuries
Of Art and Nature, hurried, nay 'tis driven
To and fro, being restless, till to Heaven
It casts a look, and Jesus does espy,
And then full soon with greatest joy doth cry,
O there's the Pearl! I must have him, or die.
Thou must expect no peace, there's nought can still it.
Nor give it rest till God himself do's fill it,
Hark to its sighs, do not befool and cheat it,
Nor of its wishings baffle and defeat it:
For nothing but that God that made it, can
Suffice the Soul, the precious Soul of Man.
Sixthly.
What thinkst thou of that price, that price of bloodWhich Christ laid down? does it not cry aloud?
O precious is the Soul! it cost full dear:
Doth not this noise sound always in thine Ear?
Seventhly.
Don't Satan's rage, his enmity, and wrathAgainst the Soul, shew forth its precious worth?
Take pleasures here, and Coffers fill with Coin,
The Shop with Wares, & Cellars with rich Wine:
Let him but have the Soul, he does not care,
Take what you please besides, and do not spare.
He rages when one Soul escapes his paws;
Ah! that's the Prize his black and bloody jaws
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With venom great, and Councils hold in Hell,
(As hath been hinted) that by craft they may
Catch the poor Soul, and this Pearl bear away,
That, that's the Morsel, that's their only prey.
Eighthly.
Its blest Infusion, and God's constant careFor food and Ornaments which he does spare,
For to adorn her on th' espousal day,
Fully declares this Truth, therefore we may
Amazed stand, and wondring all ways cry,
O precious Soul! thy worth and exc'llency
Is very great, who can it comprehend?
It's that which does oft-times to Christ ascend
In strong desires, and longings: O! 'twill pry
Into all places for his Company.
She in his sight rejoyces, and is glad;
But when once gone, she sighs, she mourns, is sad.
All other joy's but meer perplexity;
Without his love, 'twill swoun'd away, nay die.
Nothing but Grace, Heaven's off-spring, can revive it;
And nought but sighs of Jesus can enlive it.
These things considered, may make thee see
Its worth, nay more, how also 'tis with thee.
Ninthly.
How shall we prize the Soul? what rate shall weUpon her set? O what against her weigh?
Come, bring the ballance, and now let us try
What further worth or preciousness doth lie
In the fair Soul: 'tis done, all Golden Ore
Of both the Indies are ith' scales, yet more
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All precious Stones and Pearls; now weigh agin.
Alas the ballance flies, here yet wants weight,
The Soul out-vies them all: Lord, here's a sight
Th' whole world at once is in, yet 'tis too light.
Add world to world, and heap ten thousand more,
Were there so many, could you find such store,
Yet would the Soul in worth exceed them far.
Nay, I might multiply, and yet not err.
Oh! then take heed thou dost not chaffer so,
To get the World, and in exchange let go
This precious Soul: nor let it be thought strange,
What shall a Man for's Soul give in exchange?
Tenthly.
She is Immortal, O she cannot die;Though 'twas not so from all Eternity.
She was created, but in such a state,
Man can't her kill, nor her annihilate.
Her Beings such, her Life shall still remain
(Although the body die) in bliss or pain.
Then hast thou not good ground to watch & ward
With wary eye, and set a constant guard
Upon the portals of the treach'rous heart,
Lest of this Jewel thou deceived art?
What Man to gain a shilling, would let go.
A Pearl of such great price and value? who
Would think that Men, accounted grave and wise,
For toys and trifles should their Souls despise?
Many, I fear there be, who day by day,
To gain a Groat, unjustly, giv't away;
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Nay, do by it, as by a bone or crust
That's cast unto the Dog for him to knaw.
This Dog's the Devil, whose wide stretcht-out jaw
Stand gaping for 't: his Eyes are upon all,
Knowing when e're they sin, they let it fall.
O then take heed; and if this Dog should fawn,
Or wag his Tail, let not so sweet a pawn
Of future Glory be contemn'd or lost,
Think, think from whence it came, & what it cost.
CHAP. VII.
Christ's Love Epitomiz'd; the Old-man wounded; Will made willing: shewing also the nature of the Soul's Espousal to Christ.
If all that hath been said yet will not move thee
To close with Christ, I once again will prove thee,
By making of a brief or short collection
Of his sweet Love and wonderful Affection;
And then I trust thou wilt with sacred Vows
Contract thy self to him, become his Spouse;
Whose left hand's full of Treasure, in his right
Are Honours great, and Pleasures infinite.
To close with Christ, I once again will prove thee,
By making of a brief or short collection
Of his sweet Love and wonderful Affection;
And then I trust thou wilt with sacred Vows
Contract thy self to him, become his Spouse;
Whose left hand's full of Treasure, in his right
Are Honours great, and Pleasures infinite.
A Prince (you know) dispos'd to make Election
Of a Consort, before he'l place Affection,
Will first enquire if the Virgin be
In Person, Parts, Estate, or Pedigree
Equal unto himself: but if in case
She be of low descent, of Parents base,
Compar'd with his; or not so noble born,
Or has debas'd her self, or is forlorn;
He thinks it is below him once to place,
Or fix his love on her, he fears disgrace:
But if the Lady chance to equalize him,
She's not so much oblig'd to love or prize him
'Yond common bounds, because, saith she, I am
No whit inferiour unto him; my name
Records the noble stock from whence I came.
But if a Prince should chance to set his love
Upon a person that has nought to move
So great a Lord to make that choice, then she
Amazed, yields with all humilitie;
Can do no less than humbly give consent,
Yield up her self with great astonishment:
But she who doth reject such love, is acted
Like one bereav'd of sense, nay quite distracted.
Misguided Soul! and is not this the case?
What worth's in thee to him? O! vile, and base!
Instead of love, deservest to be hated,
Since from thy God thou hast degenerated,
And yet the blessed Jesus don't despise thee,
But from thy loathsom dunghil fain would raise thee.
But to proceed, I now will give to thee
Of Christ's sweet Love a short Epitome.
Of a Consort, before he'l place Affection,
Will first enquire if the Virgin be
In Person, Parts, Estate, or Pedigree
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She be of low descent, of Parents base,
Compar'd with his; or not so noble born,
Or has debas'd her self, or is forlorn;
He thinks it is below him once to place,
Or fix his love on her, he fears disgrace:
But if the Lady chance to equalize him,
She's not so much oblig'd to love or prize him
'Yond common bounds, because, saith she, I am
No whit inferiour unto him; my name
Records the noble stock from whence I came.
But if a Prince should chance to set his love
Upon a person that has nought to move
So great a Lord to make that choice, then she
Amazed, yields with all humilitie;
Can do no less than humbly give consent,
Yield up her self with great astonishment:
But she who doth reject such love, is acted
Like one bereav'd of sense, nay quite distracted.
Misguided Soul! and is not this the case?
What worth's in thee to him? O! vile, and base!
Instead of love, deservest to be hated,
Since from thy God thou hast degenerated,
And yet the blessed Jesus don't despise thee,
But from thy loathsom dunghil fain would raise thee.
But to proceed, I now will give to thee
Of Christ's sweet Love a short Epitome.
1.
'Tis a first-love, as soon as he past-by,And saw thee in thy blood, he cast his Eye
Whilst thou in that sad gore didst weltring lie.
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Before the fabrick of this World mas made.
2.
It is attracting Love, its nature's such,'Tis like the Loadstone; hadst thou once a touch,
'Twould make thy Iron-heart with speed to move,
Nay, cleave to him in bonds of purest Love.
3.
'Tis a free Love, there's nought at all in theeWhich can deserve his favour, yet does he
Not grutch thee his dear Love, although so great,
The glorious King of Kings does oft intreat
Those Souls to his imbraces, who contemn
His proffer'd grace, and still love shews to them.
4.
'Tis 'bounding Love, like Nilus, overflowsAll banks and bounds, his Grace no limit knows.
5.
'Tis a delighting Love, there's nought more sweet;She found it so who washt his precious feet.
He takes delight and sweet complacency
In those he loves, his heart affects his Eye.
He resteth in his love; and who can turn
His heart away, or damp those flames that burn
In his dear breast? none ever lov'd as he,
Who for his Spouse was nailed to the Tree.
6.
It is a Victor's Love; he'l wound and killAll Enemies who do oppose his Will;
Where he lays Siege, he'l make the Soul to yield,
By love he overcomes and wins the Field;
His Captive (Soul) thou certainly must be:
His love is such, 'twill have the Victorie.
7.
It is abiding and Eternal Love,'Twill last as long as he; nought can remove
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And for whose sake alone he chose to die.
The love which did appear to Saints of old,
Did graciously this glorious Truth unfold.
I with an everlasting Love, saith he,
Have set my heart upon (or loved) thee,
And therefore I have drawn thee unto me.
Know he who thus doth his sweet love commend
To his dear Saints, loves them unto the end.
8.
'Tis a great Love, most powerful and strong;Hence 'tis he thinks each hour and minute long,
Till he imbrace thee in his Sacred Arms,
Where he'l secure thee from all the harms
And dangers great, by Men or hellish charms.
Fathers, although they love their Children dear,
Yet never did from them such love appear.
David lov'd Absolom, yet gives consent,
Nay he himself decrees his banishment.
A Mother may forget her sucking Child,
As some have done, although of nature mild,
Yet forc'd by famine, cruelly have shed
Their Childrens bloud, and of their flesh have fed:
But Ah! his Love's so free, so strong, so great,
He gives his bloud to drink, his flesh for meat
Unto the Soul; and those who it receive,
Shall never die, and none but such can live.
9.
His Love is matchless, 'tis without compare,
Who neither flesh, nor bloud, nor life did spare.
The love of Women, which the World esteems
Most strong in sweet affection; their love seems
An empty shadow, and not worth regard,
When with his Sacred Love it is compar'd.
The Husbands, Wives, and Fathers may abound,
Yet no such love as Christ's was ever found.
Abraham and Isaac both lov'd their Wives,
Yet neither of them sacrific'd their lives.
Jonathan's love to David did exceed
The love of Women; 'twas a Love indeed!
But what was Jonathan's great love to this?
Ah! less than nothing, when compar'd to his.
Christ's love exceeds all natural Love as far
As bright Aurora doth the smallest Star.
But Oh! in vain do we compare his Love
With any thing below; no, 'tis above
Comparison, 'tis so immense, so great,
We cannot find it out: though Man's conceit
Is larger than expression; though profound,
Yet Man's conception never yet could sound
The depth of Love's unfathomable bliss,
So great, so deep, so bottomless it is.
Betwixt his Love and ours, the disproportion
Is like one drop of Water to the Ocean.
Or as the smallest dust that's fiercely driven,
To the whole Globe; or like as Earth's to Heaven
The Sun for clearness with his splendent face,
The Moon for swiftness in her Zodiack Race;
The Sands for number, and the Heaven for height
The Seas for depth, the ponderous earth for weight
Yet with more certainty, and with less doubt
Be weigh'd and measur'd, than Christ's love found out.
O depth! O heigth! O breadth! O wonderous length
Of this great Love! O uncompared strength
Of true affections! Love that is Divine!
What's natural love; Lord, when compar'd to thine?
Such a redundancy of Love is found,
Whoever dives into these depths is drown'd.
Ten thousand Seas, ten thousand times told o're,
Add to these Seas ten times as many more,
Let all these Seas become one deep Abyss,
They'd all come short in depth compar'd to this.
The Moral, Natural, nor the Spiritual Man,
With all their Understanding, never can
Find out the Nature of Christ's Love! alas,
It doth all Knowledg 'nfinitely surpass.
O may these Depths & Heigths have pow'r to move
On thee, till thou art swallowed up in Love.
That, that which cannot comprehended be
By Men nor Angels, may comprehend thee;
And thou being fill'd with it, may'st sweetly lie
In depths of Love unto Eternitie.
Who neither flesh, nor bloud, nor life did spare.
The love of Women, which the World esteems
Most strong in sweet affection; their love seems
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When with his Sacred Love it is compar'd.
The Husbands, Wives, and Fathers may abound,
Yet no such love as Christ's was ever found.
Abraham and Isaac both lov'd their Wives,
Yet neither of them sacrific'd their lives.
Jonathan's love to David did exceed
The love of Women; 'twas a Love indeed!
But what was Jonathan's great love to this?
Ah! less than nothing, when compar'd to his.
Christ's love exceeds all natural Love as far
As bright Aurora doth the smallest Star.
But Oh! in vain do we compare his Love
With any thing below; no, 'tis above
Comparison, 'tis so immense, so great,
We cannot find it out: though Man's conceit
Is larger than expression; though profound,
Yet Man's conception never yet could sound
The depth of Love's unfathomable bliss,
So great, so deep, so bottomless it is.
Betwixt his Love and ours, the disproportion
Is like one drop of Water to the Ocean.
Or as the smallest dust that's fiercely driven,
To the whole Globe; or like as Earth's to Heaven
The Sun for clearness with his splendent face,
The Moon for swiftness in her Zodiack Race;
The Sands for number, and the Heaven for height
The Seas for depth, the ponderous earth for weight
Yet with more certainty, and with less doubt
Be weigh'd and measur'd, than Christ's love found out.
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Of this great Love! O uncompared strength
Of true affections! Love that is Divine!
What's natural love; Lord, when compar'd to thine?
Such a redundancy of Love is found,
Whoever dives into these depths is drown'd.
Ten thousand Seas, ten thousand times told o're,
Add to these Seas ten times as many more,
Let all these Seas become one deep Abyss,
They'd all come short in depth compar'd to this.
The Moral, Natural, nor the Spiritual Man,
With all their Understanding, never can
Find out the Nature of Christ's Love! alas,
It doth all Knowledg 'nfinitely surpass.
O may these Depths & Heigths have pow'r to move
On thee, till thou art swallowed up in Love.
That, that which cannot comprehended be
By Men nor Angels, may comprehend thee;
And thou being fill'd with it, may'st sweetly lie
In depths of Love unto Eternitie.
The Spir't with this let fly a piercing Dart,
Which wounded dreadfully her stubborn heart,
It pierc'd to th' very quick and made her smart.
Now, now she mourns, Ah! how she weeps, she crys,
And water runs like fountains from her Eys.
Now her whole Soul's dissolved into tears
By Love-sick passions; yet she's fill'd with fears,
Lest Christ should now with angry frown deny
To give her one sweet aspect of his Eye:
Because his love she had so long refus'd,
And wondrous patience shamefully abus'd.
Oh! now she spends whole days & nights in prayer,
She sighs and grieves, but can't see Christ appear.
The panting Hart ne'r long'd for Water-brooks
More than does she for some reviving looks
From the great Prince, the God of Love & Grace;
But he at present seems to hide his face.
Which wounded dreadfully her stubborn heart,
It pierc'd to th' very quick and made her smart.
Now, now she mourns, Ah! how she weeps, she crys,
And water runs like fountains from her Eys.
Now her whole Soul's dissolved into tears
By Love-sick passions; yet she's fill'd with fears,
Lest Christ should now with angry frown deny
To give her one sweet aspect of his Eye:
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And wondrous patience shamefully abus'd.
Oh! now she spends whole days & nights in prayer,
She sighs and grieves, but can't see Christ appear.
The panting Hart ne'r long'd for Water-brooks
More than does she for some reviving looks
From the great Prince, the God of Love & Grace;
But he at present seems to hide his face.
But stop, my Muse, hark how the Winds do roar,
All storms i'th Soul alas) are not yet o're.
No sooner did the Old-man cast his Eyes,
And view'd this change but in great wrath did rise
For to renew the War; he joins afresh
With scatter'd force of Will and Lusts of th' flesh,
To make what strength they can, with hellish spite.
The Devil's with these conquer'd pow'rs unite,
Arm'd with despair, and like to Lamps, wch make
The greatest blaze at going out, they take
Their blunt and broken Weapons in their hand,
Resolving Christ in her shall not command;
Nor she desert their cause, nor break her Vows
With Sin and Self, and so become Christ's Spouse.
But now, I find in vain they do resist:
True Grace is come, the Spirit doth assist.
Sin, World, the Flesh, nor Devil, can long stand
Before the Spirits strong and pow'rful hand.
See how the Spirit now doth search about
To find each Sin, and cursed Darling out.
Did you never behold in what dread sort
The wide-mouth'd Canon plays upon the Fort,
And how by whole-sail it doth batter down
The shattered walls of a besieged Town?
Even so the Spirit with his powerful Sword
Makes glorious slaughter, will no Truce afford,
Kills all before him, will no Quarter give,
Nor will he suffer any Lust to live.
The Strong-man, (Satan) quakes; good reason why;
A stronger's come, a stronger he doth spy
Is enter'd in—O therefore he's much pain'd;
All, all is gone, and he himself is chain'd.
The Old-man trembling, likewise thinks to fly
Into some lurking-corner, secretly
To hide himself: but th' Spirit's piercing Sight
Discovers him, and now with heavenly might
Laid on such strokes, and gave him such a wound,
Wch with dire vengeance brought him to the ground.
Now the Affection's chang'd, and Will doth yield,
Being willing made, says Grace shall have the Field.
O happy season! and thrice long'd-for hour!
This is the day of God's most mighty Power
Upon the Soul. But hark, methinks I hear
Most bitter sighs and groans sound in mine Ear.
The Soul's afflicted! it is she doth mourn,
To think what sorrows for her Christ hath born.
She hates, nay loaths her self to th' very dust,
And seeks to mortifie each former Lust.
And something more doth still perplex her mind,
Him whom she dearly loves, she cannot find.
Her heart I fear will quickly burst asunder,
If any long time she should be prest under
This heavy weight: no grief like hers, is there:
Who can (alas) a wounded Spirit bear?
She's almost swallow'd up in deep despair.
You next shall hear (if you attention lend)
How she bewails the absence of her Friend.
All storms i'th Soul alas) are not yet o're.
No sooner did the Old-man cast his Eyes,
And view'd this change but in great wrath did rise
For to renew the War; he joins afresh
With scatter'd force of Will and Lusts of th' flesh,
To make what strength they can, with hellish spite.
The Devil's with these conquer'd pow'rs unite,
Arm'd with despair, and like to Lamps, wch make
The greatest blaze at going out, they take
Their blunt and broken Weapons in their hand,
Resolving Christ in her shall not command;
Nor she desert their cause, nor break her Vows
With Sin and Self, and so become Christ's Spouse.
But now, I find in vain they do resist:
True Grace is come, the Spirit doth assist.
Sin, World, the Flesh, nor Devil, can long stand
Before the Spirits strong and pow'rful hand.
See how the Spirit now doth search about
To find each Sin, and cursed Darling out.
Did you never behold in what dread sort
The wide-mouth'd Canon plays upon the Fort,
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The shattered walls of a besieged Town?
Even so the Spirit with his powerful Sword
Makes glorious slaughter, will no Truce afford,
Kills all before him, will no Quarter give,
Nor will he suffer any Lust to live.
The Strong-man, (Satan) quakes; good reason why;
A stronger's come, a stronger he doth spy
Is enter'd in—O therefore he's much pain'd;
All, all is gone, and he himself is chain'd.
The Old-man trembling, likewise thinks to fly
Into some lurking-corner, secretly
To hide himself: but th' Spirit's piercing Sight
Discovers him, and now with heavenly might
Laid on such strokes, and gave him such a wound,
Wch with dire vengeance brought him to the ground.
Now the Affection's chang'd, and Will doth yield,
Being willing made, says Grace shall have the Field.
O happy season! and thrice long'd-for hour!
This is the day of God's most mighty Power
Upon the Soul. But hark, methinks I hear
Most bitter sighs and groans sound in mine Ear.
The Soul's afflicted! it is she doth mourn,
To think what sorrows for her Christ hath born.
She hates, nay loaths her self to th' very dust,
And seeks to mortifie each former Lust.
And something more doth still perplex her mind,
Him whom she dearly loves, she cannot find.
Her heart I fear will quickly burst asunder,
If any long time she should be prest under
248
Who can (alas) a wounded Spirit bear?
She's almost swallow'd up in deep despair.
You next shall hear (if you attention lend)
How she bewails the absence of her Friend.
Ah me! I faint, my Spirits quite decay,
And yet I cannot die: O who can stay
My sinking Soul, whilst I these sorrows feel?
My feeble knees under their burden reel.
Infernal deeps, black gulphs, where horror lies,
Open their ghastly mouths before mine Eys.
O wretched Soul! curs'd Sin! I might have been
The Lamb's fair Bride, and a Celestial Queen,
Had I imbrac'd my Lord, my King, my Love,
(Who was more faithful than the Turtle Dove.)
O had I then receiv'd him in mine Arms,
He would have sav'd me from eternal harms.
But now I fear those happy days are past,
And I poor wretch shall into Hell be cast,
Bound up in fetters, and eternal chains
Of burning Wrath, and everlasting pains.
O sinful Soul! I who have lightly set
By the blest Prince, who would have paid my debt
O he that would have freely quit my score,
Ah! Now I fear I shall ne're see him more.
Could I but once more hear his Sacred Voice,
I would make him my joy, and only choice.
But's Wooing-time I fear is out of date;
Now I repent, but dread it is too late.
I melt, Lord, into tears, whilst thou the Sun
Of precious Light, art hid, where shall I run
For Light and comfort in this dolesom hour,
Whilst I lie drenched in this brinish shower?
More would she speak, but her great passion stops
Her mournful speech, whilst her eys flood-gates opes,
Smote with despair; so faint, she scarce appears
To breath or live, but by her sighs and tears.
And yet I cannot die: O who can stay
My sinking Soul, whilst I these sorrows feel?
My feeble knees under their burden reel.
Infernal deeps, black gulphs, where horror lies,
Open their ghastly mouths before mine Eys.
O wretched Soul! curs'd Sin! I might have been
The Lamb's fair Bride, and a Celestial Queen,
Had I imbrac'd my Lord, my King, my Love,
(Who was more faithful than the Turtle Dove.)
O had I then receiv'd him in mine Arms,
He would have sav'd me from eternal harms.
But now I fear those happy days are past,
And I poor wretch shall into Hell be cast,
Bound up in fetters, and eternal chains
Of burning Wrath, and everlasting pains.
O sinful Soul! I who have lightly set
By the blest Prince, who would have paid my debt
O he that would have freely quit my score,
Ah! Now I fear I shall ne're see him more.
Could I but once more hear his Sacred Voice,
I would make him my joy, and only choice.
But's Wooing-time I fear is out of date;
Now I repent, but dread it is too late.
249
Of precious Light, art hid, where shall I run
For Light and comfort in this dolesom hour,
Whilst I lie drenched in this brinish shower?
More would she speak, but her great passion stops
Her mournful speech, whilst her eys flood-gates opes,
Smote with despair; so faint, she scarce appears
To breath or live, but by her sighs and tears.
A Friend amidst this passion straight arriv'd,
Whose shining beams and lustre much reviv'd
The troubl'd Soul on every side, that she
Cry'd out, O heavenly Spirit, it is thee,
Who with Diviner and mysterious Art
Did such illustrious beams of Glory dart,
Which did not only tend to joy and peace,
But much inflam'd her heart, made love increase;
And lo, before her Eys she doth behold
The Prince to stand, whose Glory to unfold
Is 'bove the reach of Man, or Seraphim;
And thus had she a blessed sight of him.
Like as the Sun breaks forth beneath a Cloud,
Whose conqu'ring light cast off each envious shroud,
And round about his beauteous beams displays,
Making her Earth like Heav'n with his bright rays.
This glorious Aspect of his lovely Eye,
Which she through Faith beheld, did by and by
With such transports, or Raptures, on her seize,
And from her former sorrows gave her ease:
Yet could she not be fully satisfy'd,
Until the Marriage-knot was firmly ty'd.
A Promise she endeavours to procure,
To make Christ's Love and Pardon to her sure.
She to this purpose does her self address
To him she loves, with sweet composedness
Of heart and mind; tho thinking what she'd bin,
She's under fears, and oft distrest agin;
Much questioning (for want of Faith) how he
Could e're forget past wrongs and injurie.
Whose shining beams and lustre much reviv'd
The troubl'd Soul on every side, that she
Cry'd out, O heavenly Spirit, it is thee,
Who with Diviner and mysterious Art
Did such illustrious beams of Glory dart,
Which did not only tend to joy and peace,
But much inflam'd her heart, made love increase;
And lo, before her Eys she doth behold
The Prince to stand, whose Glory to unfold
Is 'bove the reach of Man, or Seraphim;
And thus had she a blessed sight of him.
Like as the Sun breaks forth beneath a Cloud,
Whose conqu'ring light cast off each envious shroud,
And round about his beauteous beams displays,
Making her Earth like Heav'n with his bright rays.
This glorious Aspect of his lovely Eye,
Which she through Faith beheld, did by and by
With such transports, or Raptures, on her seize,
And from her former sorrows gave her ease:
Yet could she not be fully satisfy'd,
Until the Marriage-knot was firmly ty'd.
250
To make Christ's Love and Pardon to her sure.
She to this purpose does her self address
To him she loves, with sweet composedness
Of heart and mind; tho thinking what she'd bin,
She's under fears, and oft distrest agin;
Much questioning (for want of Faith) how he
Could e're forget past wrongs and injurie.
Soul.
Life of my life! alas, Lord, what am I?
A wretched Creature; who deserves to die
A thousand deaths, nay, and a thousand more,
For wounding thee within, without, all o're,
In every part: O this doth make me mourn,
It melts my heart to think what thou hast born
For a vile worm. But wilt thou view the wound
That's made in me? Lord, I am drench'd & drown'd
In bloud, and brinish tears, my wasting breath,
And sighing Soul, will period soon in Death,
Unless thou seal, and dost confirm to me
Thy Love by promises; O! shall I see
Thy hand stretch'd out? or shall I hear thee say,
Come, come to me, poor Soul, O come away?
'Tis thou that wilt not bruise the broken reed,
Hurt not my sores, nor crush the wounds that bleed.
O let my chilled Soul feel the warm fires
Of thy sweet Voice, that my dissolv'd desires
May turn a soveraign Balsam, to make whole
Those wounds my sins have made in thy dear Soul.
251
Whilst thou standst looking on? Lord, cast an eye
On me, for whom thou on the Cross didst bleed;
Some comfort, Lord, now in my greatest need:
No Corrosives, some Cordial Spir'ts, or I
For ever perish must; Lord, hear my cry.
Jesus.
Afflicted Soul! the purchase of my Bloud,
Come, hear, come hear a consolating Word.
Shall I who have through sore Afflictions past
For love of thee, refuse thee now at last?
No, no! I cannot, Soul, I cannot bear
Such piercing moans that wounds my tender Ear.
Now will I magnifie my Pow'r and rise
To scatter thy malicious Enemies;
I'le thee enlighten with my glorious Rays,
And make thee happy, happy all thy days.
Who will betroth, or give this Soul to me?
Let's Celebrate with great'st Solemnity,
And glorious Triump, the espousal Day:
Come, come, my Dear, let us no longer stay.
The Father.
'Tis in my Pow'r, 'tis I, I give her thee,
As th' fruit of my own Choice, Love and Decree.
252
CHAP. VIII.
The mutual and blessed Contract between Christ and the Sinner.
Give me thy heart then, Soul, I do betroth
Thee unto me, that no approaching Wrath
May any ways be hurtful unto thee,
In Righteousness I thee betroth to me.
In Judgment also thou betrothed art,
And all I have to thee I do impart
In faithfulness and tender mercy, so
That thou thy Lord, thy Friend, & God shalt know.
I do betroth thee unto me for ever,
And neither Death, Nor Earth, nor Hell shall sever
Thy Soul from me. If thou wilt pay thy vows,
I will be thine, and thou shalt be my Spouse.
I take thee now for better, and for worse:
Give me thy hand, let's jointly both of us
With mutual love tie the conjugal Knot,
Which on my part shall never be forgot.
My Covenant with thee is seal'd by bloud,
'Tis firmer than the Oath at Noah's Flood.
Into my folded Arms I now do take thee,
And promise that I never will forsake thee.
Thy sins are cast behind my back, and I
Will cover each future infirmitie.
253
The Sinners closing with Christ.
Soul.
Upon my bended knees I do this day
Accept of thee, my Lord, my Life, my Way,
By whom alone poor Sinners have access
Unto the Father; nay, and do confess,
Declare, pronounce i'th' sight of God, that I
Do enter now with all simplicity
Into a Contract with thee, make my Vows
That I will be to thee a faithful Spouse.
O blessed Jesus, I'm as one undone,
A naked, vile, loathsom and guilty one,
Unworthy far to wash the very feet
Of th' Servants of my Lord; O how is it
That thou, the glorious Prince, shouldst ever chuse
Such an unworthy Worm to be thy Spouse:
O what's thy Love! O Grace, beyond expression,
Doth the great God on me place his affection?
But sith 'tis so, this I engage to do,
I'le leave all for thy sake, and with thee go.
And in all things own thee alone as Head,
And Husband dear, by whom I will be led,
And in all states and times will thee obey,
What ever comes, unto my dying-day.
I take thee as my Prophet, Priest, and King:
And my own worthiness in every thing
I do renounce, and further vow that I
Upon thy Bloud and Righteousness will lie;
On that, and that alone, will I depend
By Faith always until my life shall end.
I covenant with thee, and so I take thee,
And whatsoe'r falls out, I'le ne'r forsake thee,
But run all hazards in this dolesom day,
And never from thy holy ways will stray.
All this and more I promise shall be done,
But in thy strength, Lord, in thy strength alone.
Accept of thee, my Lord, my Life, my Way,
By whom alone poor Sinners have access
Unto the Father; nay, and do confess,
Declare, pronounce i'th' sight of God, that I
Do enter now with all simplicity
Into a Contract with thee, make my Vows
That I will be to thee a faithful Spouse.
O blessed Jesus, I'm as one undone,
A naked, vile, loathsom and guilty one,
Unworthy far to wash the very feet
Of th' Servants of my Lord; O how is it
That thou, the glorious Prince, shouldst ever chuse
Such an unworthy Worm to be thy Spouse:
O what's thy Love! O Grace, beyond expression,
Doth the great God on me place his affection?
But sith 'tis so, this I engage to do,
I'le leave all for thy sake, and with thee go.
And in all things own thee alone as Head,
And Husband dear, by whom I will be led,
And in all states and times will thee obey,
What ever comes, unto my dying-day.
I take thee as my Prophet, Priest, and King:
And my own worthiness in every thing
I do renounce, and further vow that I
Upon thy Bloud and Righteousness will lie;
On that, and that alone, will I depend
By Faith always until my life shall end.
254
And whatsoe'r falls out, I'le ne'r forsake thee,
But run all hazards in this dolesom day,
And never from thy holy ways will stray.
All this and more I promise shall be done,
But in thy strength, Lord, in thy strength alone.
Th' Solemnity thus ended, presently
The glorious Prince, the Bridegroom, casts his Eye
Upon the Soul, and bound up all her sores,
Nay healed them, and cancell'd all her scores:
But be'ng her self defil'd, she soon espy'd
A precious Fountain flowing from his side,
A Fountain for uncleanness to wash in
In which she bath'd, and wash'd away her sin.
Then gloriously by him she was array'd
With Robes imbroid'red, very richly laid
With Gold and Diamonds, that she did seem
Like an adorned Heav'nly Seraphim.
One Vesture was especially most rare,
Without a seam, much like what he did wear;
It is the Wedding Robe, both clean and white,
Whose lustre far exceeds the Morning-light;
And other garments also, which she wore,
Curiously wrought with Silk, and spangl'd o're
With stars of Gold, of Pearl, of precious Stone,
Enough to dazle all to look upon:
Which be'ng made up of every precious Grace,
Did cause a splendent Beauty in her Face,
That whilst he did behold her, could discry
His Father's Image clearly in her Eye,
Which did so please him, that he now admires,
And after this her Beauty much desires.
O see the change, she which was once so foul,
Is now become a sweet and lovely Soul.
Her beauty far excels what it had been
In ancient days, no mortal Eye hath seen
So sweet a Creature, no such Virgin Queen.
Yet all her Beauty now's but spots and stains,
To what it will be when her Saviour raigns.
O hear the melody! Angels rejoice,
Whilst she triumphs in this most happy choice.
Who would not then all Earthly Glories slight,
To gain a minutes taste of such delight?
The glorious Prince, the Bridegroom, casts his Eye
Upon the Soul, and bound up all her sores,
Nay healed them, and cancell'd all her scores:
But be'ng her self defil'd, she soon espy'd
A precious Fountain flowing from his side,
A Fountain for uncleanness to wash in
In which she bath'd, and wash'd away her sin.
Then gloriously by him she was array'd
With Robes imbroid'red, very richly laid
With Gold and Diamonds, that she did seem
Like an adorned Heav'nly Seraphim.
One Vesture was especially most rare,
Without a seam, much like what he did wear;
It is the Wedding Robe, both clean and white,
Whose lustre far exceeds the Morning-light;
And other garments also, which she wore,
Curiously wrought with Silk, and spangl'd o're
With stars of Gold, of Pearl, of precious Stone,
Enough to dazle all to look upon:
Which be'ng made up of every precious Grace,
Did cause a splendent Beauty in her Face,
That whilst he did behold her, could discry
His Father's Image clearly in her Eye,
255
And after this her Beauty much desires.
O see the change, she which was once so foul,
Is now become a sweet and lovely Soul.
Her beauty far excels what it had been
In ancient days, no mortal Eye hath seen
So sweet a Creature, no such Virgin Queen.
Yet all her Beauty now's but spots and stains,
To what it will be when her Saviour raigns.
O hear the melody! Angels rejoice,
Whilst she triumphs in this most happy choice.
Who would not then all Earthly Glories slight,
To gain a minutes taste of such delight?
No sooner did Apollyon cast his Eyes
On what was done, but furiously did 'rise
To damp her joy, or cause her mirth to cease,
And by some stratagams to spoil her peace.
He first stirs up the Old-man's broken force
For to estrange her: if he can't divorce
Her from her Friend, yet raises inward strife,
How to deprive her of those joys of life,
Which do abound in Lovers every way,
Betwixt th' espousal and the Marriage-day.
A thousand tricks contriv'd before had he
How to delay or spoil th' Affinitie.
But if he can't rob us of inward joy,
Our name, or goods, or life he will destroy.
For failing in the first, he stirs up Foes
To lay upon her persecuting blows.
He that will follow Christ, must look each day
To have his worldly comforts took away.
Besides, the Old-man being not yet slain,
Great troubles in her mind there rose again.
But her dear Friend so faithful is, that he
Will never leave her in Adversitie.
And to the end her joy may more abound,
A way by him immediately is found
To free her from the Old-man's hellish spite,
He must be crucify'd; but first they cite
Him to the Bar to hear what he can say,
Why now his life should not be took away.
But hear, before that's done, how the blest Lover
Doth his dread threats and awful frowns discover
Against the Foes of her he loves so well,
Who e're they be, Men, Lusts, or Fiends of Hell.
He reads his great Commission, lets them know
He in a moment can them overthrow.
On what was done, but furiously did 'rise
To damp her joy, or cause her mirth to cease,
And by some stratagams to spoil her peace.
He first stirs up the Old-man's broken force
For to estrange her: if he can't divorce
Her from her Friend, yet raises inward strife,
How to deprive her of those joys of life,
Which do abound in Lovers every way,
Betwixt th' espousal and the Marriage-day.
A thousand tricks contriv'd before had he
How to delay or spoil th' Affinitie.
But if he can't rob us of inward joy,
Our name, or goods, or life he will destroy.
For failing in the first, he stirs up Foes
To lay upon her persecuting blows.
He that will follow Christ, must look each day
To have his worldly comforts took away.
256
Great troubles in her mind there rose again.
But her dear Friend so faithful is, that he
Will never leave her in Adversitie.
And to the end her joy may more abound,
A way by him immediately is found
To free her from the Old-man's hellish spite,
He must be crucify'd; but first they cite
Him to the Bar to hear what he can say,
Why now his life should not be took away.
But hear, before that's done, how the blest Lover
Doth his dread threats and awful frowns discover
Against the Foes of her he loves so well,
Who e're they be, Men, Lusts, or Fiends of Hell.
He reads his great Commission, lets them know
He in a moment can them overthrow.
The dread Power and awful frowns of Jesus Prince of Peace over his Saints Enemies.
When Man transgress'd 'twas I, Eternal I,
Gave forth the Sentence, Thou shalt surely die.
'Twas I that curs'd the Serpent, who remains
Unto this day, and shall in lasting Chains.
When Cain did shed his righteous Brother's bloud,
I sentenc'd Cain; 'twas I that brought the Flood
Upon the Earth. By me the World was drowned
Proud Babels Language was by me confounded.
I am Jehovah's everlasting Word,
Who in my hand do bear th' two-edg'd Sword.
'Twas I, and only I that did Command
The dismal darkness in the Egyptians Land.
'Twas at my Word the Seas divide in twain,
And made an even passage through the Main.
At my Command Pharaoh and all his Host
Were utterly within the Red-Sea lost.
'Twas I that made Belshazzers joints to quake,
And all his Nobles tremble when I spake.
'Twas I that made the Persian Monarchs great,
And threw them with the Grecians from their Seat.
I say the Word, and Nations are distress'd;
I spake again, and the whole World's at rest.
Let all Men stand in fear and dread of me;
I was the first, and I the last will be.
All knees shall bow to me when I reprove,
And at my Voice the Mountains shall remove.
The Earth shall be dissolved at my Threat,
And Elements shall melt with fervent heat.
My Word confines the Earth, the Seas, the Wind,
I am the great Jehovah unconfin'd.
'Tis I divide between the joints and Marrow;
No place so close, no cranny is so narrow,
But, like the Sun's bright beams, I enter in,
Discovering to each heart, the darling Sin
That lodges in the Soul. 'Tis I alone,
Who by my piercings make them sigh and groan.
If from true sense and sorrow they complain,
I graciously bind up those wounds again.
'Tis I that save the humble and contrite,
And do condemn the formal Hypocrite.
My circuit's large, I coast the World about,
No place, nor secret, but I find it out.
All Nations of the World I rule at pleasure,
To my Dominion's neither bound nor measure.
Therefore, dear Soul, chear up, and do not fear,
I'le confound all thy Foes both far and near.
And now I do command to bring to th' Bar
That inward Foe, Old-man, I wo'nt defer
His Tryal longer, his Indictments read,
And he had leave and liberty to plead,
And on his Trial he deny'd the Fact;
But Conscience swears she took him in the act,
And other witness too; but to be brief,
All prove him the Soul's Foe, nay and the chief
And only cause of all the horrid Treason
Acted against the Lord unto this season.
He was deny'd to speak, the Proofs being clear,
You shall therefore his fatal Sentence hear:
Come thou base Traytor, impure Mass of Sin;
That, Villain-like, dost seek revenge agin
Upon the Soul, and striv'st to raise up strife,
Nay thirsts again to take away her life;
Hear, hear thy Sentence, Old-man, thou must die,
I can no pity shew, nor mind thy cry:
Thy Age! away, 'tis pity thou hast bin
Spared so long, when guilty of such Sin.
Soul, thou must see to bring him in subjection,
With every evil lust, and vile affection.
This heap of Sin thou must strive to destroy,
That so thou maist all perfect peace enjoy:
Under the strictest bonds let him abide,
Till he is slain, or throughly crucify'd.
Gave forth the Sentence, Thou shalt surely die.
'Twas I that curs'd the Serpent, who remains
Unto this day, and shall in lasting Chains.
When Cain did shed his righteous Brother's bloud,
I sentenc'd Cain; 'twas I that brought the Flood
Upon the Earth. By me the World was drowned
Proud Babels Language was by me confounded.
I am Jehovah's everlasting Word,
Who in my hand do bear th' two-edg'd Sword.
257
The dismal darkness in the Egyptians Land.
'Twas at my Word the Seas divide in twain,
And made an even passage through the Main.
At my Command Pharaoh and all his Host
Were utterly within the Red-Sea lost.
'Twas I that made Belshazzers joints to quake,
And all his Nobles tremble when I spake.
'Twas I that made the Persian Monarchs great,
And threw them with the Grecians from their Seat.
I say the Word, and Nations are distress'd;
I spake again, and the whole World's at rest.
Let all Men stand in fear and dread of me;
I was the first, and I the last will be.
All knees shall bow to me when I reprove,
And at my Voice the Mountains shall remove.
The Earth shall be dissolved at my Threat,
And Elements shall melt with fervent heat.
My Word confines the Earth, the Seas, the Wind,
I am the great Jehovah unconfin'd.
'Tis I divide between the joints and Marrow;
No place so close, no cranny is so narrow,
But, like the Sun's bright beams, I enter in,
Discovering to each heart, the darling Sin
That lodges in the Soul. 'Tis I alone,
Who by my piercings make them sigh and groan.
If from true sense and sorrow they complain,
I graciously bind up those wounds again.
'Tis I that save the humble and contrite,
And do condemn the formal Hypocrite.
258
No place, nor secret, but I find it out.
All Nations of the World I rule at pleasure,
To my Dominion's neither bound nor measure.
Therefore, dear Soul, chear up, and do not fear,
I'le confound all thy Foes both far and near.
And now I do command to bring to th' Bar
That inward Foe, Old-man, I wo'nt defer
His Tryal longer, his Indictments read,
And he had leave and liberty to plead,
And on his Trial he deny'd the Fact;
But Conscience swears she took him in the act,
And other witness too; but to be brief,
All prove him the Soul's Foe, nay and the chief
And only cause of all the horrid Treason
Acted against the Lord unto this season.
He was deny'd to speak, the Proofs being clear,
You shall therefore his fatal Sentence hear:
Come thou base Traytor, impure Mass of Sin;
That, Villain-like, dost seek revenge agin
Upon the Soul, and striv'st to raise up strife,
Nay thirsts again to take away her life;
Hear, hear thy Sentence, Old-man, thou must die,
I can no pity shew, nor mind thy cry:
Thy Age! away, 'tis pity thou hast bin
Spared so long, when guilty of such Sin.
Soul, thou must see to bring him in subjection,
With every evil lust, and vile affection.
This heap of Sin thou must strive to destroy,
That so thou maist all perfect peace enjoy:
259
Till he is slain, or throughly crucify'd.
The Old-man being sentenc'd, and confin'd,
The Soul is consolated in her mind.
Affection, Judgment, Will, do all rejoyce,
And are united now: O happy choice!
Ah! she admires the excellence and worth
Of her Beloved, that she sets him forth,
As one that's ravish'd in the contemplation
Of his great Glory, and her exaltation,
In this her sacred choice: and this so raises
Her ravish'd senses, that Angelick praises
She thinks too low; O now she doth discover,
And not till now th' affections of a Lover.
There's nothing now so tedious as delay,
Betwixt the 'spousal and the Marriage-day.
Her former joys in which she much delighted,
She treads them under-foot, they are quite slighted,
Nay altogether loathsom in her Eye,
Compared with his sacred Company.
Unto the place where he appoints to meet her,
Thither she runs with speed, there's nothing sweeter;
Nay there is nothing sweet, nothing is dear
Or pleasant to her, if he be not there.
O! saith the Love-sick Soul, in such a case
May I but have one kiss, one sweet Imbrace,
O how would it rejoyce this heart of mine!
His Love is better than the choisest Wine.
His Name is like an Ointment poured forth,
And no such Odour e're enrich'd the Earth.
The Eastern Gums, Arabian Spices rare,
Do not perfume, nor so enrich the Air,
As the Eternal and renowned Fame
Of his most precious and most glorious Name!
Perfumes my Soul, it elevates my voice,
Whilst gladness fills my heart: O happy choice!
My sacred Friend, my Life, my Lord, and King,
Doth me into his secret Chambers bring;
Although ten thousand fall on either hand,
My Soul in safety evermore shall stand.
Tell me, my Lord, tell me, my dearest Love,
Where thou dost feed, whither the Flocks remove,
And where they rest an Noon in soultry gleams,
Bring me into those Shades, where silver streams
Of living Waters flow, most calm and still,
There, there I'le shelter, there I'le drink my fill.
The Fountains ope, O see it runs most clear,
Green Pastures by; a Lodg is also near,
To hide in safety, and to save from fear
Of scorching heat; under this shade I'le rest,
My Love shall lie inclosed in my breast.
My heart shall be his lodging-place for ever,
Nothing shall me from my Beloved sever.
The terrors of the Night shall never harm me,
He saves from heat, in Frosts his love doth warm me.
You Virgins who yet never felt the smart
Of Love's soul-piercing and heart-wounding Dart.
If all these sacred Raptures you admire,
Know, Virgins, know that this Celestial Fire
That's kindled in my breast, comes from above.
And sets my Soul into this flame of Love.
O he that has endured so much pain
To gain my Love, is worthy to obtain
Ten thousand times more love than his poor Spouse
Is able to bestow; yet shall my Vows
Be daily paid to him, in whose sweet breast
My love-sick Soul shall find eternal rest.
Know, know I ne'r obtain'd true peace, before
My soul cast Anchor on this sacred shore.
All earthly pleasures are but seeming mirth,
His presence is a Heaven upon Earth.
How heavy, O how bitter was the Cross
Once unto me? to think upon the loss
Of temporal comforts, made me to complain;
But now I find such losses are my gain.
Terrestrial joys, as dross to me appear;
My joy's in Heaven, O my treasure's there.
Had I all Riches of both th' India's shore
At my command, ten thousand times told o're,
My soul would loath them, they should be abhor'd
Being worse than dung, compared to my Lord.
O may these Sun-beams never cease to shine,
By which I see that my Beloved's mine.
He is my flesh and bone, therefore will I
Rejoyce the more in this Affinity.
He is my All, my soul's to him united,
As Jonathæn's to David, who delighted
So much in him that in his greatest trouble
Dear Jonathan did his affections double:
When David was in great distress and fear,
Then did his love and loyalty appear.
So when my dear Beloved is distrest,
My love to him shall chiefly be exprest.
But why, said I, distrest? What, can my Lord,
Who hath consuming power in his Word,
Be touch'd by Mortals? what, can he be harm'd,
Who with all strength of Heaven and Earth is arm'd?
No, no; I must recall that lavish strain:
No hand can touch him, he cannot sustain
The smallest injury from th' greatest Pow'r;
For in a breath he can his Foes devour.
The Soul is consolated in her mind.
Affection, Judgment, Will, do all rejoyce,
And are united now: O happy choice!
Ah! she admires the excellence and worth
Of her Beloved, that she sets him forth,
As one that's ravish'd in the contemplation
Of his great Glory, and her exaltation,
In this her sacred choice: and this so raises
Her ravish'd senses, that Angelick praises
She thinks too low; O now she doth discover,
And not till now th' affections of a Lover.
There's nothing now so tedious as delay,
Betwixt the 'spousal and the Marriage-day.
Her former joys in which she much delighted,
She treads them under-foot, they are quite slighted,
Nay altogether loathsom in her Eye,
Compared with his sacred Company.
Unto the place where he appoints to meet her,
Thither she runs with speed, there's nothing sweeter;
Nay there is nothing sweet, nothing is dear
Or pleasant to her, if he be not there.
O! saith the Love-sick Soul, in such a case
May I but have one kiss, one sweet Imbrace,
O how would it rejoyce this heart of mine!
His Love is better than the choisest Wine.
His Name is like an Ointment poured forth,
And no such Odour e're enrich'd the Earth.
The Eastern Gums, Arabian Spices rare,
Do not perfume, nor so enrich the Air,
As the Eternal and renowned Fame
Of his most precious and most glorious Name!
Perfumes my Soul, it elevates my voice,
Whilst gladness fills my heart: O happy choice!
My sacred Friend, my Life, my Lord, and King,
Doth me into his secret Chambers bring;
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My Soul in safety evermore shall stand.
Tell me, my Lord, tell me, my dearest Love,
Where thou dost feed, whither the Flocks remove,
And where they rest an Noon in soultry gleams,
Bring me into those Shades, where silver streams
Of living Waters flow, most calm and still,
There, there I'le shelter, there I'le drink my fill.
The Fountains ope, O see it runs most clear,
Green Pastures by; a Lodg is also near,
To hide in safety, and to save from fear
Of scorching heat; under this shade I'le rest,
My Love shall lie inclosed in my breast.
My heart shall be his lodging-place for ever,
Nothing shall me from my Beloved sever.
The terrors of the Night shall never harm me,
He saves from heat, in Frosts his love doth warm me.
You Virgins who yet never felt the smart
Of Love's soul-piercing and heart-wounding Dart.
If all these sacred Raptures you admire,
Know, Virgins, know that this Celestial Fire
That's kindled in my breast, comes from above.
And sets my Soul into this flame of Love.
O he that has endured so much pain
To gain my Love, is worthy to obtain
Ten thousand times more love than his poor Spouse
Is able to bestow; yet shall my Vows
Be daily paid to him, in whose sweet breast
My love-sick Soul shall find eternal rest.
Know, know I ne'r obtain'd true peace, before
My soul cast Anchor on this sacred shore.
All earthly pleasures are but seeming mirth,
His presence is a Heaven upon Earth.
How heavy, O how bitter was the Cross
Once unto me? to think upon the loss
Of temporal comforts, made me to complain;
But now I find such losses are my gain.
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My joy's in Heaven, O my treasure's there.
Had I all Riches of both th' India's shore
At my command, ten thousand times told o're,
My soul would loath them, they should be abhor'd
Being worse than dung, compared to my Lord.
O may these Sun-beams never cease to shine,
By which I see that my Beloved's mine.
He is my flesh and bone, therefore will I
Rejoyce the more in this Affinity.
He is my All, my soul's to him united,
As Jonathæn's to David, who delighted
So much in him that in his greatest trouble
Dear Jonathan did his affections double:
When David was in great distress and fear,
Then did his love and loyalty appear.
So when my dear Beloved is distrest,
My love to him shall chiefly be exprest.
But why, said I, distrest? What, can my Lord,
Who hath consuming power in his Word,
Be touch'd by Mortals? what, can he be harm'd,
Who with all strength of Heaven and Earth is arm'd?
No, no; I must recall that lavish strain:
No hand can touch him, he cannot sustain
The smallest injury from th' greatest Pow'r;
For in a breath he can his Foes devour.
But now, methinks, I presently espy
Upon the Earth the Apple of his Eye;
Which are his servants, nay his members dear,
Which wicked men do oft oppress; O there
My Lord's distrest: for if his Children smart,
O that doth pierce and wound his tender heart.
If cold or nakedness afflicts their souls,
He sympathizes, and their state condoles.
If sick they be, or if by cruel hands
They are in Prison cast, and under bands,
And there with hunger and with thirst opprest,
He feels their grief, he is in them distrest.
What wrong soever they on Earth receive,
'Tis done to him, for which my soul doth grieve
To see th' afflictions of his servants here;
This is the fruit true loyal Love does bear.
Her sorrows are his woes; for they alone,
Being his members, are my flesh and bone.
And all make but one Body, he's the Head,
From whence all flows, 'tis he alone has shed
His love abroad, in this my love-sick heart,
Whereby I feel when any members smart.
My bowels move and tender heart does bleed,
VVhich makes me for his sake supply their need.
Thus for my Christ, and for his Children's sake
I'le suffer any thing; yea I do take
My life, and goods, and all into my hands,
To be disposed of as he commands:
But know for certain evermore that I
For aid and help on him alone rely.
Upon the Earth the Apple of his Eye;
Which are his servants, nay his members dear,
Which wicked men do oft oppress; O there
My Lord's distrest: for if his Children smart,
O that doth pierce and wound his tender heart.
If cold or nakedness afflicts their souls,
He sympathizes, and their state condoles.
If sick they be, or if by cruel hands
They are in Prison cast, and under bands,
And there with hunger and with thirst opprest,
He feels their grief, he is in them distrest.
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'Tis done to him, for which my soul doth grieve
To see th' afflictions of his servants here;
This is the fruit true loyal Love does bear.
Her sorrows are his woes; for they alone,
Being his members, are my flesh and bone.
And all make but one Body, he's the Head,
From whence all flows, 'tis he alone has shed
His love abroad, in this my love-sick heart,
Whereby I feel when any members smart.
My bowels move and tender heart does bleed,
VVhich makes me for his sake supply their need.
Thus for my Christ, and for his Children's sake
I'le suffer any thing; yea I do take
My life, and goods, and all into my hands,
To be disposed of as he commands:
But know for certain evermore that I
For aid and help on him alone rely.
These pleasant Fruits, O these delight the King,
And hereby 'tis that we do honour bring
Unto his Name; all souls of the new birth,
VVho are sincere, this precious fruit bring forth,
Let not these things seem strange, because so few
Do bear such Fruit, believe the Maxim's true,
That as the Sun doth by its warm reflection
Upon the Earth, produce a resurrection
Of all those Seeds, which in the Earth do lie
Hid for a time in dark obscurity:
Ev'n so the Sun of Righteousness doth shine
Into this cold and barren heart of mine;
The precious seeds that have been scattered there
Take root and blossom, nay their branches bear
Sweet fruit, being the product of those Rays,
VVhich that bright Sun into my soul displays.
'Tis precious and most lovely in his Eye,
Both for its Beauty and Veracity.
You Virgins all who are by Love invited
Into his Garden, where he is delighted
VVith all his pleasant Fruits, come, come and see,
How choice, fair, sweet, and beautiful they be:
One cluster here's presented to thy view,
That thou mayst see, and then believe 'tis true.
These be the Fruits which I shall now express,
Love, Joy, and Peace, Long-suffering, Holiness,
Faith, Goodness, Temperance, and Charity,
These are uhe products of th' Affinity
That's made between me and my dearest Friend;
Nay, more than these, Eternal life i'th' end.
But if (through sin) thou canst not cast thine Eye
On these rare Fruits, then know assuredly
VVhen th' Vintage comes, and thou beginst to crave
For one small taste, one taste thou canst not have.
The fruitful Soul it is the King will crown
VVith th' Diadem of Glory and Renown.
O let these things the Soul's affections raise,
In grateful Songs to celebrate the Praise
Of great Jehovah, who is King of Kings,
VVhose glorious Praise the heav'nly Quire sings:
Then let us sing on Earth a Song like this,
My well-beloved's mine, and I am his.
And hereby 'tis that we do honour bring
Unto his Name; all souls of the new birth,
VVho are sincere, this precious fruit bring forth,
Let not these things seem strange, because so few
Do bear such Fruit, believe the Maxim's true,
That as the Sun doth by its warm reflection
Upon the Earth, produce a resurrection
Of all those Seeds, which in the Earth do lie
Hid for a time in dark obscurity:
Ev'n so the Sun of Righteousness doth shine
Into this cold and barren heart of mine;
The precious seeds that have been scattered there
Take root and blossom, nay their branches bear
Sweet fruit, being the product of those Rays,
VVhich that bright Sun into my soul displays.
'Tis precious and most lovely in his Eye,
Both for its Beauty and Veracity.
You Virgins all who are by Love invited
Into his Garden, where he is delighted
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How choice, fair, sweet, and beautiful they be:
One cluster here's presented to thy view,
That thou mayst see, and then believe 'tis true.
These be the Fruits which I shall now express,
Love, Joy, and Peace, Long-suffering, Holiness,
Faith, Goodness, Temperance, and Charity,
These are uhe products of th' Affinity
That's made between me and my dearest Friend;
Nay, more than these, Eternal life i'th' end.
But if (through sin) thou canst not cast thine Eye
On these rare Fruits, then know assuredly
VVhen th' Vintage comes, and thou beginst to crave
For one small taste, one taste thou canst not have.
The fruitful Soul it is the King will crown
VVith th' Diadem of Glory and Renown.
O let these things the Soul's affections raise,
In grateful Songs to celebrate the Praise
Of great Jehovah, who is King of Kings,
VVhose glorious Praise the heav'nly Quire sings:
Then let us sing on Earth a Song like this,
My well-beloved's mine, and I am his.
An Hymn of Praise to the Sacred Bridegroom.
Praise
in the Highest, Joy betide
The sacred Bridegroom, and his Bride,
Who doth in spendor shine:
Let Heaven above be fill'd with Songs,
In Earth beneath let all Mens Tongues
sing forth his Praise Divine.
The sacred Bridegroom, and his Bride,
Who doth in spendor shine:
Let Heaven above be fill'd with Songs,
In Earth beneath let all Mens Tongues
sing forth his Praise Divine.
If sullen Man refuse to speak,
Let Rocks and Stones their silence break;
for Heaven and Earth combine
To tie that sacred Bridal Knot,
O let it never be forgot,
the Contract is Divine.
Let Rocks and Stones their silence break;
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To tie that sacred Bridal Knot,
O let it never be forgot,
the Contract is Divine.
You holy Seraphims above,
Who do admire Jesus's Love,
O hast away and come,
With Men on Earth your joys divide;
Earth ne'r produc'd so fair a Bride,
nor Heaven a Bridegroom.
Who do admire Jesus's Love,
O hast away and come,
With Men on Earth your joys divide;
Earth ne'r produc'd so fair a Bride,
nor Heaven a Bridegroom.
Another.
'Tis not the gracious lofty strain;
Nor record of great Hector's glory,
Nor all the conquering mighty Train,
Whose Acts have left the World a story;
Nor yet great Cesar's swelling fame,
Who only look'd, and overcame.
Nor record of great Hector's glory,
Nor all the conquering mighty Train,
Whose Acts have left the World a story;
Nor yet great Cesar's swelling fame,
Who only look'd, and overcame.
Nor one, nor all those Worthy Nine,
Nor Alexander's great Renown,
Whose deeds were thought almost Divine,
When Vic'tries did his Temples crown;
But 'tis the Lord, that Holy One,
Whose Praises I will sing alone.
Nor Alexander's great Renown,
Whose deeds were thought almost Divine,
When Vic'tries did his Temples crown;
But 'tis the Lord, that Holy One,
Whose Praises I will sing alone.
My Heart and Tongue shall both rejoyce,
Whilst Angels all in Consort sing
Aloud with a melodious voice
The praises of sweet Zion's King:
O 'tis his praise, that Holy One,
I am resolv'd to sing alone.
Whilst Angels all in Consort sing
Aloud with a melodious voice
The praises of sweet Zion's King:
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I am resolv'd to sing alone.
My Heart indites whilst I proclaim,
The Praises of the God of Wonder,
My lips still magnifie his Name,
Whose Voice is like a mighty Thunder:
I'le praise his Name, and him alone,
Who is the glorious Three in One.
The Praises of the God of Wonder,
My lips still magnifie his Name,
Whose Voice is like a mighty Thunder:
I'le praise his Name, and him alone,
Who is the glorious Three in One.
Whose feet are like to burning Brass,
Whose Eyes like to a flaming Fire,
Who bringeth mighty things to pass,
'Tis him I dread, and do admire:
I'le magnifie his Name alone,
Who is the glorious Three in One.
Whose Eyes like to a flaming Fire,
Who bringeth mighty things to pass,
'Tis him I dread, and do admire:
I'le magnifie his Name alone,
Who is the glorious Three in One.
My Heart and Pen shall both express,
The Praises of great Juda's Lion,
The sweet and fragrant Flower of Jess,
The holy Lamb, the King of Zion.
To him that sitteth on the Throne,
Be everlasting praise alone.
The Praises of great Juda's Lion,
The sweet and fragrant Flower of Jess,
The holy Lamb, the King of Zion.
To him that sitteth on the Throne,
Be everlasting praise alone.
Whose Head is whiter than the Snow
That's driven by the Eastern Wind,
Whose Visage like a flame doth show,
Confining all, yet unconfin'd:
For ever prais'd be Him alone,
Who is the glorious Three in One.
That's driven by the Eastern Wind,
Whose Visage like a flame doth show,
Confining all, yet unconfin'd:
For ever prais'd be Him alone,
Who is the glorious Three in One.
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I'le praise his Name, who hath reveal'd
To me his everlasting Love,
Who with his stripes my Soul hath heal'd,
Whose Foot-stool's here, his Throne above,
Let Trumps of Praise be loudly blown,
To magnifie his Name alone.
To me his everlasting Love,
Who with his stripes my Soul hath heal'd,
Whose Foot-stool's here, his Throne above,
Let Trumps of Praise be loudly blown,
To magnifie his Name alone.
This sacred Subject of my Verse,
Though I poor silly Mortal should
Neglect his Praises to rehearse,
The ragged Rocks and Mountains would
Make his deserved Praises known,
Who is the glorious Three in One.
Though I poor silly Mortal should
Neglect his Praises to rehearse,
The ragged Rocks and Mountains would
Make his deserved Praises known,
Who is the glorious Three in One.
You twinkling Stars that Day and Night
Do your appointed Circuit run,
Sweet Cynthia in her monthly flight,
Also the bright and flaming Sun,
Throughout the Universe make known
The Praises of the Holy One.
Do your appointed Circuit run,
Sweet Cynthia in her monthly flight,
Also the bright and flaming Sun,
Throughout the Universe make known
The Praises of the Holy One.
Let every Saint on Earth rejoyce
Whom Christ hath chosen, let him sing,
Whilst I to him lift up my Voice
To sound the Praises of my King:
For He it is, and He alone,
Hath made me his Beloved one.
Whom Christ hath chosen, let him sing,
Whilst I to him lift up my Voice
To sound the Praises of my King:
For He it is, and He alone,
Hath made me his Beloved one.
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