Divine poems Containing The History of Ionah. Ester. Iob. Sampson. Sions Sonets. Elegies. Written and newly augmented, by Fra: Quarles |
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Meditat. 9.
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 | Divine poems |  |
Meditat. 9.
How high, unutterable, how profound,
(Whose depth the line of knowledge cannot found)
Are the deerces of the Eternall God!
How secret are his wayes, and how untrod
By mans conceipt, so deeply charg'd with doubt!
How are his Counsels past our finding out!
O, how unscrutable are his designes!
How deepe, and how unsearchable are the Mines
Of his abundant Wisdome! how obscure
Are his eternall Iudgements! and how sure!
Lists he to strike? the very Stones shall flie
From their unmov'd Foundations, and destroy:
Lists he to punish? Things that have no sense,
Shall vindicate his Quarrell, on th'Offence:
Lists he to send a plague? The winters heate
And summers damp, shall make his will compleate:
Lists he to send the Sword? Occasion brings
New Iealousies betwixt the hearts of Kings:
Wills he a famine? Heaven shall turne to brasse,
And earth to Iron, till it come to passe:
Both stocks, and stones, and plants, and beasts fulfil
The secret Counsell of his sacred will,
Man, onely wretched Man, is disagreeing
To doe that thing, for which he had his being:
Samson must downe to Timnah; in the way
Must meet a Lyon, whom his hands must slay;
The Lyons putrid Carkas must enclose
A swarme of Bees; and, from the Bees, arose
A Riddle; and that Riddle must be read,
And by the reading, Choller must be bred,
And that must bring to passe Gods just designes
Vpon the death of the false Philistines:
Behold the progresse, and the royall Gests
Of Heavens high vengeance; how it never rests,
Till, by appointed courses, it fulfill
The secret pleasure of his sacred will.
(Whose depth the line of knowledge cannot found)
Are the deerces of the Eternall God!
How secret are his wayes, and how untrod
By mans conceipt, so deeply charg'd with doubt!
How are his Counsels past our finding out!
O, how unscrutable are his designes!
How deepe, and how unsearchable are the Mines
Of his abundant Wisdome! how obscure
Are his eternall Iudgements! and how sure!
Lists he to strike? the very Stones shall flie
From their unmov'd Foundations, and destroy:
Lists he to punish? Things that have no sense,
Shall vindicate his Quarrell, on th'Offence:
Lists he to send a plague? The winters heate
And summers damp, shall make his will compleate:
Lists he to send the Sword? Occasion brings
New Iealousies betwixt the hearts of Kings:
308
And earth to Iron, till it come to passe:
Both stocks, and stones, and plants, and beasts fulfil
The secret Counsell of his sacred will,
Man, onely wretched Man, is disagreeing
To doe that thing, for which he had his being:
Samson must downe to Timnah; in the way
Must meet a Lyon, whom his hands must slay;
The Lyons putrid Carkas must enclose
A swarme of Bees; and, from the Bees, arose
A Riddle; and that Riddle must be read,
And by the reading, Choller must be bred,
And that must bring to passe Gods just designes
Vpon the death of the false Philistines:
Behold the progresse, and the royall Gests
Of Heavens high vengeance; how it never rests,
Till, by appointed courses, it fulfill
The secret pleasure of his sacred will.
Great Savior of the world; Thou Lambe of Sion,
That hides our sinnes; That art the wounded Lyon:
O, in thy dying body, we have found
A world of hony; whence we may propound
Such sacred Riddles, as shall, underneath
Our feet, subdue the power of Hell and Death;
Such Mysteries; as none but he, that plough'd
With thy sweet Hayfer's able to uncloud;
Such sacred Mysteries, whose eternall praise
Shall make both Angels, and Archangels raise
Their louder voyces, and, in triumph, sing,
All Glory and Honour to our highest King,
And to the Lambe, that sits upon the throne;
Worthy of power and praise is he, alone,
Whose glory hath advanc'd our key of mirth;
Glory to God, on high; and peace, on Earth.
That hides our sinnes; That art the wounded Lyon:
O, in thy dying body, we have found
A world of hony; whence we may propound
Such sacred Riddles, as shall, underneath
Our feet, subdue the power of Hell and Death;
Such Mysteries; as none but he, that plough'd
With thy sweet Hayfer's able to uncloud;
Such sacred Mysteries, whose eternall praise
Shall make both Angels, and Archangels raise
Their louder voyces, and, in triumph, sing,
All Glory and Honour to our highest King,
And to the Lambe, that sits upon the throne;
Worthy of power and praise is he, alone,
Whose glory hath advanc'd our key of mirth;
Glory to God, on high; and peace, on Earth.
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