University of Virginia Library

No more of Feare, for lo, his impious brat
Looks now to be admitted. This is that
We call Despaire: with gastly look he stands,
And Poysons, ropes, or poniards fill his hands,
Still ready to do hurt: one step (no more)
Reaches from hence unto damnations dore.
This is that Passion giveth man instruction
To wrest the Scripture to his own destruction:
And makes him think, while he on earth doth dwell,
He feels the tortures and the plagues of hell.

It makes men rave like Furies, scritch and howle,
With exclamations horrible and foule
More Monster like than men. Onely damnation
Is in their mouthes; no mercy, no salvation,
Can they have hope of, but possesse a feare,
Whence monstrous shapes and visions do appeare
To their imaginations: and the pain
That they in soule and conscience do sustain,
All earthly tortures doth so much exceed,
As if they had within them hell indeed.
This is that last-worst instrument of Feare,
Which our Grand-foe (and hells great Enginere)
Raiseth against the fortresse of the heart:
But many times God frustrates quite his art.
For when he doth assaile the same (with trust
He from their fortresse faith and hope shall thrust)
It makes them unto Christ their Captain flie,
Leave to be too secure and fortifie.
God also makes this Passion now and then
His scourge to lash the proud presumptuous man,
And tame the Reprobate, who by this rod
Is made sometimes to feel there is a God.
By this strange wonders brought to passe I've seen,
Those humbled that have once the proudest been:
Yea, some I've known whose hearts have been so hard
They with no feare of judgment could be scar'd;
Yet after this hath seiz'd them, it hath made
These daring spirits tremble at their shade.
Shake at meere apparitions; nay, at nought
But what hath being onely in their thought.
And in respect of what they were, no change
That ever I observed seems so strange.
Those friends and pleasures that once seem'd most deare,
Most odious to them in such fits appeare:
And greatest comfort they do finde in them,
Whose waies and persons they did most condemne.

Oh, what repentant lives some vow to live,
If God would but once more vouchsafe to give
Them health & hope again! then they would spend
Their lives and goods unto no other end
Save wholly for his glory: yet there's now
Some living that have quite forgot that vow,
God give them grace to look into their errour,
Or they will one day feele a double terrour.
But many in this agony hath nought
More than the way unto their ruine sought;
And still our busie enemie the Devill,
Author and chiefe procurer of this evill
(Vnlesse Gods mercie his black plots prevents)
Is ready to provide him Instruments,
But I ev'n quake to think what humours be
Attending on this hellish maladie.
Which I had rather labour to eschew,
Than to be overcurious here to shew.

Now, some do think this Passion being taken,
Can very hardly be again forsaken:
For (far above all mischiefs raging) This
The cursed traytor to our safety is;
And will not means permit us to apply
Ought that may bring us ease or remedy.
But there are courses to prevent this sinne:
And (though it be insinuated in)
God that doth ever pitty our distresse,
Will not forsake us in our heavinesse.
Nor can we say that he hath left us voide
Of help, for ought wherewith we are annoyd
Through Sathans guile. He pittieth our case,
And daily makes us offers of his grace,
If wee'll lay hold on't. For, how truely deare
We to the Father of all mercie are,
He shew'd in giving for a Sacrifice
His sonne, to pay for our iniquities.
In whom (if unbeleeving make not blinde)
For every griefe of body and of minde,
There is a Salve. And every Christian knows
(Or should at least) a Sacred Spring, whence flows
A precious liquor; whose rare vertue can
Cure ev'ry griefe of minde that tortures Man.
But we must be advis'd how to apply
This med'cine rightly to our malady:
For some that have presumed on their skill,
Out of things good, have drawn effects as ill,
And so the Sacred-Truth is now and then
So wrested by the false conceits of men;
As thence they gather means to sooth their Passion,
And make more obstinate their Desperation:
Which from your soules pray heaven to keep as farre,
As is earths center from the highest starre.

But there's a two-fold Desperation reignes;
One sort is that which a distrust constrains
In things that do concern the soules salvation:
The horriblest and feareful'st Desperation.
But th' other is alone of earthly things,
And nothing so much disadvantage brings;
Yet like enough in little time to grow
Vertues main let, or utter overthrow.
For where it entrance gets, it makes men loth
To undertake great matters, cause through sloth
They do despaire to reach them. Yea, it breeds
A carelesnesse in man, and thence proceeds
Not a few Treasons; for one breach of Law
Brings many times offenders in such awe,
That in despaire of pardon for their ill,
They not alone hold out their errour still;
But being guilty of one crime before,
To scape the lash for that, adde twenty more:
And cause at first they thought themselves undone,
At last to desperate Rebellion runne.

Besides, there's some despairing of their cause,
Who being brought to triall by the lawes
For their offence are obstinately mute:
And unto these (forsooth) some do impute
A manly resolution; 'cause thereby
They carefull seem of their posterity.
But sure there is no wiseman will commend
Him that so desperately seekes his end,
Or thorow wilfulnesse undoes himselfe,
(Body and soul perhaps) to save his pelfe
To some Survivours; whereas if he bide
On hope, and stand contented to be tri'd
According to the Laws, he may be clear'd,
And quitted of the danger he so fear'd,
As some have been. Besides, When we endure
Any small pain, if we despaire of cure,
Ease, or amends, 'twill make it seem to be
Almost unsufferable. But if we
Have any hope, the rest we look to win,
Will mitigate the torture we are in.
His winter-toyle what Plough-man could sustain
If he despaired of his harvest-gain?
And the strong'st army needs must faint and flie,
If it distrust before of victorie.

But to conclude this; be it understood,
Despair's a thing that doth so little good,
As to this day I cannot yet observe
That purpose whereto man might make it serve,
Vnlesse to help a troop of Cowards fight:
For, could a man lead them past hope of flight,
Where they should see there were no remedie
But they must die, or get the victorie;
Despaire in that case might give them the day,
Who would have lost it to have run away.