The Citizens Flight With their Recall; To which is added Englands Tears and Englands Comforts: By John Quarles |
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 | The Citizens Flight |  |
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THE CITIZENS Flight and Fear, &c.
What does the Whale persue a shole of fish?Whether so fast; no safety, but in wish?
Whether, ah! whether, will ye take your flight?
Gods Arrows fly by day, as well as Night:
No Path's without a Judgment; Do not waste,
And spend your times; bring danger by ye'r haste:
Stay, stay, lest in your hasty flight ye meet
(Your hearts must bring your safety, not your Feet)
The thing you flie from; Judgment knows no bound,
And he that lurkes most close is soonest found:
Can the poor tim'rous game lie hid, or bauke
The furious Talons of the Quick-ey'd Hauke?
The all-discerning eye of Heav'n can see
That ill which lurks in most obscuritie;
And he that hides himself, does but discover
Himself, because Gods Judgements alwayes hover
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The piercing heat of the Meridian Sun:
They must expect more Pestilential times,
That lives in th' Equinoctial of their Crimes;
The Dog-star of our lusts does now excell,
And governs to a perfect Miracle:
What shall we sin, and think our sins shall pass
Without reward; shall we do good, Alas!
(And that we seldom do) and not expect.
To bring our labour to a good effect:
We cannot act but Heaven will sure regard
Our actions, and afford us our reward,
Especially if good, 'tis each mans-deed
That either heals his wound, or makes it bleed.
The hand of Heaven strikes sure, and he that flies
To save his life, oft in his flying dies;
But if we needs must fly, let our flight be
Lord from our too too sinful selves to thee;
If not, we only flutter in the night
Not knowing how, nor where, we take our flight;
We fly to th' terra incognita, and there
Our flights rewarded with perpetual care;
But if we to the Land of promise fly
We enjoy the blessing of a serene Skey:
There's, there's the place, where neither cold nor heat.
Are in extreams, all things are good, and great;
No diminutions, but compleated Fate
Is still supported in a constant State.
My Muse is grown melodious and it sings
We need not fear our flight when Heaven gives wings;
Angelick plumes can neither flag nor tire
No air so pow'rful as a good desire;
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Constant and fervent, not to small, nor great;
For if it be not constant, it retards
Putrefaction; and he's happy that regards
The end of his beginning; he that begins
In Mercy, is to blame to end in Sins:
He sins indeed that sins against the light
Of his own knowledge, let perpetual might
Be still intayl'd on him that will not say
He knows a difference betwixt night and day;
Yet sin and ignorance makes all things dark,
Light though contain'd in the smallest spark
Is light enough to let our darkness know
There is a God, whose goodness did bestow
These lights upon us; a dark Lanthorn may
Be light to others, yet to me 'tis day:
Though heaven himself did oftentimes appear
And speak in Clouds, yet was his language clear;
Though he appear'd in fire, he checkt the flame,
The bush was unconsum'd; though Moses came
To see his face; yet he was glad at heart
To know his fore-side, by his hinder part;
I'm sure oh Lord thou hast no other face,
But what I want; and what is that? 'tis grace
Lord I am satisfy'd, and I will be
Content to feel the thing I cannot see,
And let my last experience make it good,
Thy hand is seal'd with my Redeemers blood;
I hope the Bond's uncancel'd; if it be
Lord thou art paid, I hope, and I am free;
I mean from my Original; but Lord
I must confess, I've lately past my word,
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Must be my refuge, for I have no Bail
Except thy Mercy, which I have so oft
Abused, Lord, and at thy Judgements scoft;
That should I now presume to make a tryal,
I 'Justly might expect thy just denial:
Yet why shouldst thou deny me? had the Thief
His pardon, and shall I have no relief?
Lord, pardon this my rashness, how dare I
Expostulate with thee; or ask a why
My lips are sealed, yet oh Lord, I dare?
Give me but Grace, to open them by Prayer;
As thou hast given Prayer for my heart,
So give my heart for prayer; let me not part
Till I am answer'd; nay, I will (if prayer)
Has any power, extenuate my care,
On purpose to enlarge it; I will be
An Orator, till thy Divinitie
Shall melt, as Clouds drop fruitful showers of Rain,
And make me only fit to beg again:
All other Judgments wispers, this cries loud;
Let's Judge the tempest, by th' approching cloud;
Oh how unhappy is that purblind Land
That takes the little Finger for the Hand?
Judgment will make us tremble by degrees,
Reader, remember great Belshazars knees;
Needs must that woful Nation be acurst,
(Suspect Religion) when Divines flie first;
They have forgot what was the Israelites hap,
When powerful Moses sentenell'd the gap:
Will Moses fly from Aaron, oh hard-heart!
'Tis a bad sign when loving Brothers part.
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When their hard-hearted Nurses all are fled;
Oh cruel tyranny! what can be worse,
When the poor Infant's murther'd by the Nurse?
Hard-hearted Nurse; that can be so unkind,
To fly away and leave her Babe behinde;
Fly Nurses, fly, to any secret place,
But be so kind to leave the Babe of grace;
I mean, your Charities; and then we shall
By our Diseases thrive, when you will fall,
By your dispair; endeavour to be true,
Then praise your God with soul and body too;
For he that made them both, hath the same power
To save them both from an unhappy hour;
Be careful, and amidst your cares be just,
There is no greater sin then sad distrust:
Distrust invites a Plague, when humble zeal,
Can palliate by degrees th' infected weal.
Prayers, Sighs, and Tears, being well composed, can
Cure all distempers incident to man.
If this be then our Cure, let hearts and eyes
Agree together; let our storms arise
And never cease untill they've spent their showers,
When we have spent our store, Heaven shows his powers:
Our end is his beginning, let us end
Our sins, and he will soon begin to send
His Mercy to compleate a happy story,
For blest beginnings alwaies end in glory;
Prayer is an Introduction to our bliss
And makes th' offender, and the offended kiss,
Not kiss, and part; but kiss and so conjoyne,
And turn our tears of Water into Wine,
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Oh! happy time when sin and mercy meet;
Meet, not to stay together; but to part,
For both cannot be welcome to one heart.
Have I not seen a flock of Birds, whose flight
Has bin occasion'd by a sudden fright;
Fly up and down and clamoring in the Air
Expressed their sudden fright and present care?
Nay I have known such fear has been among
Those clam'rous Birds, that they have left their young:
Why does the City thus persue the Court?
Knowing, ah lass! this is no age for sport,
For Gaming's out of fashion in these times;
Yet we may stake, and pray away our Crimes;
The looser's only happy, for he wins
That looses, by Divinity, his sins:
But stay (Kind Reader) let's a little pause,
And see if we can finde, where lies the Cause;
What think'st thou of a sinful heart that lies
Groaning beneath his griping miseries?
What think'st thou of a sin-infected brest
That is by nothing but it self opprest?
What think'st thou of a Nation whose sad crimes,
Hath so infected our perplexed times
That tis impossible by humane skill
To give a Remedy to so much ill?
Call all thy faculties, and let them joyn
Themselves together, and by faith combine;
Let's search each cranny of our sinful hearts,
And let us weep as we have sung, in parts;
Lets weep untill our tears do over-flow
Our sorrow; let us sigh untill we know
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'Tis only Faith can Crown us with relief.
Now courteous Reader, give me leave to make
A small digression: Know tis for thy sake
That I endeavour by a faithful art
To give a Cordial to each bleeding heart:
When once tis known where the distempers lie
We may the sooner hope for remedie;
That Patient much in understanding fails
That will not tell his Doctor what he ayls;
Oh! who would not his thankful patient be
Where Physick and advise are both so free?
His Physick hath such operative power
That it gives ease in less then half an hour;
Oh depth of mercy! oh unbounded skill!
Oh rare prescription of a sacred will!
Then do not fly, but let your hopes encrease,
Repent, and then he surely will speak peace;
Till then tis but in vain to move, or fly;
Oh! look upon him with a watchful eye,
Then shalt thou see how soon he will impart
His heavenly joyes to a contristed heart;
Remember he is not a God of blood,
But takes delight to do a sinner good:
Remember those blest Tears which once he shed
Over Jerusalem; and how he spred
His mercy over Israel, and pours
His goodness on our heads in liberal showers;
He is a God whose mercy knows no bounds;
His balm of grace being pour'd into our wounds
Does so compleat our Cure, and ease our pain,
That the Disease will ne'r return again;
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The gold of prayer is all the Doctors Fee:
The Scriptures are our guide, 'tis that which tells
Where this most kind and blest Physician dwells;
Faith, Hope and Charity, those sacred three
Are his House-keepers, and Humilitie,
His lodging Chamber, and the faithful Brest
The Kitchin where his Diet must be drest:
Oh Lord! we know thy Table's alwayes spred,
Oh give us faith, that we may eat thy bread;
And since thy goodness thou hast thus exprest,
'Tis no presumption, Lord, to be thy guest;
Thou freely doest invite, and shall not we
Answer thy invitation and be free
To make our near approches; Lord enable
Our hearts, that we may come unto thy table;
And then, O Lord! thy table being spred,
Bless us with grace and we will eat thy bread;
We'l eat thy heavenly Manna without strife,
And feed our souls to everlasting life;
We'l praise thy name for what thy goodness sent,
As we have sinn'd we'l labour to repent,
That so thou may'st commis'rate and remove
Thy Judgments, and then Crown us with thy Love;
Then shall our thankful hearts proclaim and tell
What thou hast done for thine own Israel;
Then shall our joyful lips proclaim a peace,
Whilst grace and mercy ever more encrease;
And let us know when Judgment comes so near,
That ruine or repentance must appear;
Delayes are dangerous; let's therefore pray
And call upon him whilst 'tis yet to day,
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His heavy Judgments, and intreat his love
Once more to shine upon us, that we may
Injoy the comfort of a glorious day:
Oh let's consider we have long bin free,
But still ungrateful for our libertie;
Oh let us think how long we have bin fed,
Yet seldom prais'd that hand which gave us bread;
Oh let's remember how forgetful we
Have bin, and how abus'd prosperitie;
Oh let's consider how Religion stood
Not long since more then Ankle deep in blood;
Let's call to memory, when our hearts decay'd,
How Heaven reviv'd us and encreast our Trade;
What store of mercy have we to perswade us
To bless that hand that both preserves and made us?
For should we own his mercies with neglect
We may injustice every day expect
New punishments, who studies to offend
Must not expect a peace or happy end!
Oh let us not against our maker Kick;
'Tis too much honey that hath made us sick;
How wanton have we bin in former times?
And still make idols of our bosome Crimes;
Thus we, persisting in our Follies, dare
Just Heav'n to strike, whose goodness does forbear,
Whilst we ev'n hug our ruine, and invite
Judgement to make an everlasting night.
But if Poetick Lines have any power
Let me perswade my Reader from this hour
To be considerate, And thus begin
To ruminate: Alas! it is my sin
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That I who did industreously commit
So many Crimes, should by my fervent prayer
Endeavour to extenuate my care?
There is a balm in Giliad can make sound,
And Cure the anguish of the deepest wound;
The Heav'nly Chiron hath so great a store,
That he can find a Salve for every sore;
He that hath promis'd will in mercy please
To give unto the heavy Laden ease;
We may be confident, and boldly trust
In him that is both merciful and just:
How happy is our flight, as oft as we
Fly from our selves, oh Lord, and fly to thee;
Nor do we ever with Devotion pray,
But thou dost meet our language half the way;
And when our zeal does once begin to burn
Then doest thou bless us with a quick return;
Then why should we distrust so good a God
That alwayes shakes (before he strikes) his Rod?
Thy mercy keeps us in the darkest night,
Nor dost thou in a sinners Death delight;
Oh let thy goodness spare us, for thine ire
We know full well is all-consuming fire;
It is thy mercy (Lord) must make us blest,
Alas, we are but stubble at the best;
O turn us (Lord) or else we cannot turn;
For as we are, w'are only fit to burn,
And if we needs must burn, oh Lord, reveal
Thy self unto us till we flame in zeal;
Such holy flames (oh Lord) will so aspire
That thou wilt take a pleasure in our fire;
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A Christian like a Glow-worm, shines at night;
I care not Lord how dark I seem to be
Unto the world, if I am light in thee;
Oh let him grope in everlasting night
That will not own thee for the chiefest Light;
Be thou oh Lord, my Light, my Guide, my Way,
Then shall I never err, nor go astray;
He need not fear in slippery wayes to slide
That is supported by so blest a Guide;
A guide, whose goodness can as well direct
In power, as he in mercy can protect;
Be pleas'd oh Lord, to bring my feeble sight
From my Cæmerian darkness to thy light;
Oh give me light enough to let me see
My horrid darkness, let my object be
Thy mercies; then shall my eclipsed eyes
Have light enough to see my miseries,
Lord let me see my sins, for sin and I
Even like the Bas'lisk, first discover'd, die;
Then may I sing with a most heav'nly mirth,
The death of sin gives Righteousness a birth;
The death of sin does period all our strife,
The life of sin is but a dying life.
Thus subtle death lies lurking in our sins
To catch us (when we struggle) in his gins,
But they that will avoid his crafty snare
Must first discover it by faith, and prayer;
And when discovered, it may well be said
The crafty traytor is himself betray'd;
Although he exercise his power so fast
Yet he himself shall be destroy'd at last,
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Death where's thy power, oh Grave where is thy sting?
Then why should we (fond mortals) fear or dread
The thing that cannot hurt us, if we spread
Our arms to Heav'n; he'l take us by the hand
And safely lead us to the promis'd Land;
Then shall we have no cause to fear or doubt;
We that come weeping in, go smiling out;
Happy are we, if we the truth imbrace,
Though we were born in sin, we die in grace;
The Midwives hand even dragg'd us to our Birth
Whilst we poor lumps of senseless, living Earth
Lie crying in her lap; but know not why
Yet every tear is then a prophesie;
The tender Infant does no sooner break
The prison of the Womb, but seems to speak
To this effect. Behold, see I am come
Naked and shiftless from my Mothers womb:
What shall I do, I have nor feet, nor hands
But what are useless, griping sorrow stands
Ready to snatch me from my Mothers brest,
Not suffering me to take a minutes rest.
Is this the world that fondlings dote upon?
Oh that I had but power to be gone!
I quickly would find out a place should be
Exempt from all encroaching misery;
This is no place of rest, I may deplore
My self, ah lass! I never cry'd before;
What, was I born to cry? strange kind of Birth,
Hard fate indeed, all Sorrow, and no Mirth!
Could I have kept my fleshly Cloyster still
I never than had known th' effects of ill;
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My patience and my prayers shall make it less;
But stay, alas, my Birth is not the cause
Of my sad sorrows, but the breach of Laws;
'Tis that, 'tis that which wounds me to the heart
'Tis I that sinn'd, 'tis only I must smart
'Tis only I; 'tis I, that must prepare
To bear the burthen of mine own made care.
Who yelds to sin except he does repent
As well must yield unto the punishment;
If we do well, we then expect reward
But if we sin; we sin without regard:
How dis-ingenious are we in our wills
To goodness, how ingenious in our ills?
These are the things for vvhich our guilty Land
Is now afflicted, and convicted stand;
'Tis but in vain to plead except it be
To mercy; for our quick deliverie,
We're our own Goalers, yet we have not power
To give our selves the freedom of an hour;
Our turn-key sins does lock us up so fast
We cannot stir, we must contrive to cast
Away our crimes; and then we must prepare
By heav'nly art to pick the lock by prayer;
This is the way to freedom: Now I find
My own mistake, free mercy is so kind
That neither lock, nor door, nor bar can be
Infringers of a Converts liberty;
A sigh will melt the doors and break the lock,
Nothing opposes, when by Faith we knock;
And if the Hammer of our zeal be strong
We shall not need to give attendance long;
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There's nothing hard unto a willing mind,
Run, and ye shall obtain, Lord give us grace
That in our running we may mend our pace;
Oh let thy mercy with our sorrows meet
And then we shall have wings as well as feet;
And then we shall be sure to run the race
Of mercy, and to take our flight in grace;
For when in flight, or running, we shall spend
Our zealous strength, oh Lord be thou the End.
The RE-CALL.
Strange times my Masters, what unusual sight
Hath terrify'd you to this sudden flight?
Still full of jealousies and fears, no hope
Of a re-settlement; ah give not scope
Too much to your own fancies, but incline
To bend your hearts to what is more Divine:
But stay, perhaps ye'ave lately had a sight
Of your own sins, and that has caus'd this flight;
Then fly untill your eyes of faith have found
The Grand Physician that must make you sound;
Fly, till your wings are tyr'd, fly night and day,
Mount in your flight, and in your flying, pray;
Pray till the fervent heat of true bred zeal
Shall melt your wings, your melting will reveal
Your penitency, and Repentance brings
A good Embassage from the King of Kings
Faith is the souls Embassador, and prayer
The Embasie; the Hosts of heav'n prepare
His entertainment, Sun, and Moon, and Stars
Are the swift Laquies that fore-run his Wars;
Thus whilst in hostile manner he appears,
Judgment beats up the Drum for Volunteers:
What shall we do (dear Country-men) our crimes
Are so out-ragious, that the vvorst of times
Is our expectance; let's contrive, and think
What's best to do, for we are at the brink
Of speedy ruine, and our senseless Land
Is crush'd in pieces by an Iron hand,
An Iron hand of Justice, and 'tis vain
T'oppose, except by faith; nay we shall gain
More blows by opposition than (I'm sure)
'Tis possible for nature to endure,
For what is nature in her greatest povver
But vveakness, and that vveakness, every hour
Subject to sad mutations, humane skill
Like Josiah's Sun, goes backvvard, or stands still;
Alas, vve are like Bull-rushes, inclin'd
To shake vvith every feeble blast of vvind,
We have no perminancy, every minit
Brings a most sudden alteration in it;
For vvhat is man if rightly understood,
But a poor fabrick, cemented vvith blood,
Daub'd o're vvith flesh, vvhich one poor shovver of rain
Washes avvay; thus momentary, vain
Is silly man, a perfect Coin of sorrovv,
Receiv'd to day, and paid avvay to morrovv;
Although at first he vvas a noble Coine,
Stampt vvith that image vvhich vvas all Divine,
Yet by his own endeavours he defac'd
Himself, and by his fall so much disgrac'd
His frail and weak posterity, that time
Can not obliterate so foul a Crime,
Till mercy, when observing the persute;
Of vengeance, brings us a most blest recruit,
Which on a sudden turn'd the scale, and then
From miserable, we grew happy, men;
Happy in our Redeemer who thought good
By shedding his, to stop our guilty blood,
He by his sufferings did our woes obtrude;
If this be mercy, where's our gratitude?
Nor is his goodness tyr'd, he still remains
Our Mediator; for our former staines
Are so apparent, that the best of art
Cannot give ease to a tormented heart;
And if our sins do more and more abound,
Judgment at last will be with vengeance Crown'd;
What shall we do? what art, what skilful hand
Can give a prescript to a sinful Land?
To whom shall we address our selves? our skills
Are made imperfect by our stubborn wills;
Our wills are so antartick to what's good,
That we are lost except we make a flood,
A swelling flood, with water from our eyes,
That we may float above our miseries;
There is an Ark of safety to be found
Which we must either fly unto, or drownd;
Let's make a flood with our repentant tears,
That Noahs Ark may save us from our fears;
There let us rest untill our Dove appear
And bring us tydings that the Land is clear?
We may lament and wofully bewail
Our miseries; oh let's not tire, and fail
In our repentance, but to ease our grief
(In multitudes of mercy lies relief)
Let's fly to heav'n upon the wings of zeal,
And in an humble manner there reveal
The sorrows of our hearts; when we begin
To swim in sorrow, we shall sink from sin:
Hath terrify'd you to this sudden flight?
Still full of jealousies and fears, no hope
Of a re-settlement; ah give not scope
Too much to your own fancies, but incline
To bend your hearts to what is more Divine:
But stay, perhaps ye'ave lately had a sight
Of your own sins, and that has caus'd this flight;
Then fly untill your eyes of faith have found
The Grand Physician that must make you sound;
Fly, till your wings are tyr'd, fly night and day,
Mount in your flight, and in your flying, pray;
Pray till the fervent heat of true bred zeal
Shall melt your wings, your melting will reveal
Your penitency, and Repentance brings
A good Embassage from the King of Kings
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The Embasie; the Hosts of heav'n prepare
His entertainment, Sun, and Moon, and Stars
Are the swift Laquies that fore-run his Wars;
Thus whilst in hostile manner he appears,
Judgment beats up the Drum for Volunteers:
What shall we do (dear Country-men) our crimes
Are so out-ragious, that the vvorst of times
Is our expectance; let's contrive, and think
What's best to do, for we are at the brink
Of speedy ruine, and our senseless Land
Is crush'd in pieces by an Iron hand,
An Iron hand of Justice, and 'tis vain
T'oppose, except by faith; nay we shall gain
More blows by opposition than (I'm sure)
'Tis possible for nature to endure,
For what is nature in her greatest povver
But vveakness, and that vveakness, every hour
Subject to sad mutations, humane skill
Like Josiah's Sun, goes backvvard, or stands still;
Alas, vve are like Bull-rushes, inclin'd
To shake vvith every feeble blast of vvind,
We have no perminancy, every minit
Brings a most sudden alteration in it;
For vvhat is man if rightly understood,
But a poor fabrick, cemented vvith blood,
Daub'd o're vvith flesh, vvhich one poor shovver of rain
Washes avvay; thus momentary, vain
Is silly man, a perfect Coin of sorrovv,
Receiv'd to day, and paid avvay to morrovv;
Although at first he vvas a noble Coine,
Stampt vvith that image vvhich vvas all Divine,
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Himself, and by his fall so much disgrac'd
His frail and weak posterity, that time
Can not obliterate so foul a Crime,
Till mercy, when observing the persute;
Of vengeance, brings us a most blest recruit,
Which on a sudden turn'd the scale, and then
From miserable, we grew happy, men;
Happy in our Redeemer who thought good
By shedding his, to stop our guilty blood,
He by his sufferings did our woes obtrude;
If this be mercy, where's our gratitude?
Nor is his goodness tyr'd, he still remains
Our Mediator; for our former staines
Are so apparent, that the best of art
Cannot give ease to a tormented heart;
And if our sins do more and more abound,
Judgment at last will be with vengeance Crown'd;
What shall we do? what art, what skilful hand
Can give a prescript to a sinful Land?
To whom shall we address our selves? our skills
Are made imperfect by our stubborn wills;
Our wills are so antartick to what's good,
That we are lost except we make a flood,
A swelling flood, with water from our eyes,
That we may float above our miseries;
There is an Ark of safety to be found
Which we must either fly unto, or drownd;
Let's make a flood with our repentant tears,
That Noahs Ark may save us from our fears;
There let us rest untill our Dove appear
And bring us tydings that the Land is clear?
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Our miseries; oh let's not tire, and fail
In our repentance, but to ease our grief
(In multitudes of mercy lies relief)
Let's fly to heav'n upon the wings of zeal,
And in an humble manner there reveal
The sorrows of our hearts; when we begin
To swim in sorrow, we shall sink from sin:
Oh let the language of a hearty Verse,
Beloved Country-men, take root, and pierce
Your stubborn hearts, I write not out of Pride
But out of zeal; I swell not with the tide
Of a Vain-glorious scribler, but desire
By zeal-hot Verse to set your hearts on fire:
But you may say, and what you say, is true,
That your Advisor is as bad as you:
I do confess it with unfained lips;
But what's the Sun the worse for his eclipse?
The heav'nly luminaries suffer pain
By their ecclipses, yet do shine again;
Never could any day be yet so proud
To say it was not darken'd by some Cloud;
And shall proud mortals dare presume to crave
A priv'ledge to go dancing to their Grave;
Would they find heav'n on earth? no, heav'n is higher
Though often seated in a low desire;
Is not heav'n humble, when tis often found
So zealously inclin'd to kiss the Ground?
Does not his heav'nly influences make
The grass to spring for the poor Creatures sake?
Prayer is Angelick food, shall mortals be
Hard-hearted, and so starve that Hirarchie?
No, let our zealous Charities abound,
And then our labours shall be freely Crown'd
With everlasting glory, and our peace
Never be waining, but shall still encrease,
Encrease, with so much plenty, that the earth
Shall groan in labour with a swelling birth,
Whilst satisfied mortals all shall sing
Anthems of peace to their mellifluous King;
And all, this all, is but the least of all,
It is a blest Eternity that shall
Crown us at last with everlasting bliss;
Now tell me Reader what thou thinkst of this,
Tell me what thinkst thou, wouldst thou not be quiet
And well content, to have such lasting diet?
Nay, when th'ast eat thy fill, it shall be said
Th'art freely welcome, and thy reck'ning paid;
Be not so much a Clown after all this cost
To go away, and not say, Thank thee Host;
Observe the thirsty fovvls that never sup
His plenty, but they gratefully look up;
Observe the very beasts how oft they gaze
Up to the Heav'ns, and lowing, give him praise;
Observe each creature in his several kind,
As if by Nature they were all inclin'd
To give him thanks, do in a several tone
As tw're express their gratitude, and own
His liberality; whilst thankless men
Looks down-ward on the earth, and now, and then
Sends forth a sigh or two, which often fly
Rather from nature than Divinity;
Then how can we expect that daily burn
In our own flames, Astrea will return?
How can we hope that heav'n will Crown our dayes
With happiness, except we give him praise?
Shall we live still in darkness, when we may
Injoy the blessing of a glorious day?
Shall we be still contriving how to be
The sole infringers of our libertie?
Poor silly mortals! how do we contrive
As 'twere to bury our own selves a live?
How sensless are we, that we neither look
Abroad, nor home, but like a Land forsook,
We fall into dispair, nor do we make
Our moans to heav'n or hardly pity take
Upon our selves; so stupid are vve grovvn,
That vve are like a City turn'd to stone;
Our zeal is lost; our Charity is fled,
Our health is vanish'd, and our faith is dead;
Our love is turn'd to envy, and our praise
To chattering Nonsense, and our spreading Bayes
To heaps of Nettles; thus, thus have vve lost
Our former happiness, and heaven his cost;
Thus, thus, most obstinately all have run
Against the rocks, and vvilfully undone
Our stubborn selves; vvhat hopes can vve derive
From our imperious sins, that vve shall thrive
In grace, that spreading mercy may incline
To do us good, and take us from the brine
Of our ovvn Crimes; oh grievous is his end,
That lives, and sadly dies, vvithout a Friend;
Oh sea of sorrovvs! oh tumultuous care!
What shall vve do, to vvhom shall vve repair?
We run from place to place, and are unkind;
Never regarding those vve leave behind;
Should heav'n deal so by us, what were we then
But as w'areworst of sinners, worst of men;
What can we call our own? all things were sent
In mercy; and in grace they must be spent,
Oh grief to speak it! was there ever known
A fitter oppertunity to own
And use his blessings? know vvhat is not us'd
In times of Charity is but abus'd;
'Tis like the Israelites Manna if not spent
It will corrupt, and he that freely sent
Expects a free return; the poor mans hand
Is his Exchequer; do not doubtful stand
But pay in freely; and ye shall be blest
With more then double, double interest;
And then your praise shall be recorded thus,
That Dives now's turn'd good to Lazarus:
Then shall the poor mans prayers and widdows eyes
Prevail, and keep you from those miseries
Which may ensue; oh let not the advice
Of a poor sinner turn your hearts to ice;
But rather melt your souls into a flood
Of Love; remember whose most precious blood
Stream'd freely forth on purpose to relieve
The poor; it was their sorrows made him grieve;
It was his grief that made our sorrows cease,
It was his bloody war procur'd our peace;
It was his glory made our darkness shine,
It was his Vinegar that prov'd our Wine;
It vvas his stripes that made us truly sound;
It vvas the Balsome of his bleeding vvound,
That eas'd our pain; oh here! oh here's the Cure!
But vvhere's the thanks? 'tvvas he that did endure
But vve that sinn'd; oh love exceeding measure,
His pain vvas the fore-runner of our pleasure;
His stripes has made us whole, what need we more
But thankes? accept it Lord, 'tis all our store;
'Tis a thin gratitude, thou art Divine,
Oh therefore turn our water into Wine;
And when dear Lord thy mercy is about
Such works of wonders, turn our insides out;
Oh heal our Leprosie of sin, and then
We'l boast that we are more then perfect men;
Thou that canst Cure the blind, the deaf, the lame,
In healing us wilt get a double fame;
For we are more then deaf, or lame, or blind,
Therefore (oh Lord) be unto us more kind,
For we have cripple consciences; each heart
Of ours is dead; oh raise them by thy art;
And let our eyes make such a sea of tears,
That we may walk upon it without fears;
And when thy judgment brings us to the brink,
Oh let's remember Peter did not sink;
And when thy Cock of mercy, Lord, shall Crow
Let's turn about and weep away our woe,
And let's remember but the Cripples touch
And then oh Lord we'l throw away our Crutch;
Oh let's remember but the blind mans sight,
And we shall come from darkness into light;
Oh let's prepare our hearts and then vve may
Instead of running from thy Judgments stay;
And staying may most happily imbrace
The vvelcome glory of thy spreading grace,
That so our faculties may all combine,
To give thee praise that makes our visage shine;
Then shall we live in a most prosperous peace
Our Corn, and Oil, shall ever more encrease;
Want, then shall be a stranger, to our Land,
And lib'ral mercy take off Judgments brand;
Then every one with freedom shall encline
T' injoy the fruitful Fig-tree and the Vine:
Thus mercy shall appear unto our Land,
And lead in welcome blessings by the hand:
Then shall our joyes encrease as 'twas of old
The Wolf and Lamb shall Cabbin in one fold;
Religion shall increase and bless our dayes
With sound Divinity; immortal praise
Shall fly to him whose mercy was so free
To own us in our great extremity:
Judge Reader, judge with what a pleasing eye,
The patient looks to see his Doctor by;
The Gally slave that tuggs the painful Oare
Rejoyceth when he seeth a pleasant shoare;
And shall not we that wander in our crimes
Rejoyce to see illuminated times;
And let us (say whose lives are but a span)
With double admiration, What is man!
Lord what is man that thou art so inclin'd
To have him seated alwayes in thy mind?
And shall we not return our thanks with prayer
That alwayes makes our miseries, his care;
Shall we whose sins do more and more increase
Deny, if we repent, a proffer'd peace?
Shall we that have a long time been at warrs
Deny to put a period to our jarrs?
Shall we whose sad calamities increase
Deny to say thrice welcome, welcome Peace?
And shall not vve (incompas'd vvith a throng
Of mercies) let Hosanna be our song?
Shall we be silent, and contented be
To eat the fruit, and not applaud the Tree?
Oh let not such ingratitude be laid
Unto our charge; oh let it not be said,
That we in times of mercy can be mute,
And kill the tree that gives us pleasant fruit;
Oh let us not, like sucking Children, bite
Our Nurses Nipple, let us not delight
In youthful vanities; oh let's not cry
Because w'are fed, let not our delug'd eye
Find quiet rest untill our sins appear
Minute, like Atoms, in a day that's clear;
Oh let us, whilst it is to day, repent,
And understand that Judgments oft are sent
In tender mercy, zealous David found
Himself a King indeed when he was Crown'd
With his affliction; Patience is a Jemm;
Saul seeking Asses, found a Diadem;
Whilst others, oh I pity them! Ah lass,
Looking for Diadems do find an Ass;
Our ancient Records tell us planly how
An Ass spoke once, w'ave many do so now;
By which we fully may perceive, what then
Were Miracles, are common now, to men.
Beloved Country-men, take root, and pierce
Your stubborn hearts, I write not out of Pride
But out of zeal; I swell not with the tide
Of a Vain-glorious scribler, but desire
By zeal-hot Verse to set your hearts on fire:
But you may say, and what you say, is true,
That your Advisor is as bad as you:
I do confess it with unfained lips;
But what's the Sun the worse for his eclipse?
The heav'nly luminaries suffer pain
By their ecclipses, yet do shine again;
Never could any day be yet so proud
To say it was not darken'd by some Cloud;
And shall proud mortals dare presume to crave
A priv'ledge to go dancing to their Grave;
Would they find heav'n on earth? no, heav'n is higher
Though often seated in a low desire;
Is not heav'n humble, when tis often found
So zealously inclin'd to kiss the Ground?
Does not his heav'nly influences make
The grass to spring for the poor Creatures sake?
Prayer is Angelick food, shall mortals be
Hard-hearted, and so starve that Hirarchie?
20
And then our labours shall be freely Crown'd
With everlasting glory, and our peace
Never be waining, but shall still encrease,
Encrease, with so much plenty, that the earth
Shall groan in labour with a swelling birth,
Whilst satisfied mortals all shall sing
Anthems of peace to their mellifluous King;
And all, this all, is but the least of all,
It is a blest Eternity that shall
Crown us at last with everlasting bliss;
Now tell me Reader what thou thinkst of this,
Tell me what thinkst thou, wouldst thou not be quiet
And well content, to have such lasting diet?
Nay, when th'ast eat thy fill, it shall be said
Th'art freely welcome, and thy reck'ning paid;
Be not so much a Clown after all this cost
To go away, and not say, Thank thee Host;
Observe the thirsty fovvls that never sup
His plenty, but they gratefully look up;
Observe the very beasts how oft they gaze
Up to the Heav'ns, and lowing, give him praise;
Observe each creature in his several kind,
As if by Nature they were all inclin'd
To give him thanks, do in a several tone
As tw're express their gratitude, and own
His liberality; whilst thankless men
Looks down-ward on the earth, and now, and then
Sends forth a sigh or two, which often fly
Rather from nature than Divinity;
Then how can we expect that daily burn
In our own flames, Astrea will return?
21
With happiness, except we give him praise?
Shall we live still in darkness, when we may
Injoy the blessing of a glorious day?
Shall we be still contriving how to be
The sole infringers of our libertie?
Poor silly mortals! how do we contrive
As 'twere to bury our own selves a live?
How sensless are we, that we neither look
Abroad, nor home, but like a Land forsook,
We fall into dispair, nor do we make
Our moans to heav'n or hardly pity take
Upon our selves; so stupid are vve grovvn,
That vve are like a City turn'd to stone;
Our zeal is lost; our Charity is fled,
Our health is vanish'd, and our faith is dead;
Our love is turn'd to envy, and our praise
To chattering Nonsense, and our spreading Bayes
To heaps of Nettles; thus, thus have vve lost
Our former happiness, and heaven his cost;
Thus, thus, most obstinately all have run
Against the rocks, and vvilfully undone
Our stubborn selves; vvhat hopes can vve derive
From our imperious sins, that vve shall thrive
In grace, that spreading mercy may incline
To do us good, and take us from the brine
Of our ovvn Crimes; oh grievous is his end,
That lives, and sadly dies, vvithout a Friend;
Oh sea of sorrovvs! oh tumultuous care!
What shall vve do, to vvhom shall vve repair?
We run from place to place, and are unkind;
Never regarding those vve leave behind;
22
But as w'areworst of sinners, worst of men;
What can we call our own? all things were sent
In mercy; and in grace they must be spent,
Oh grief to speak it! was there ever known
A fitter oppertunity to own
And use his blessings? know vvhat is not us'd
In times of Charity is but abus'd;
'Tis like the Israelites Manna if not spent
It will corrupt, and he that freely sent
Expects a free return; the poor mans hand
Is his Exchequer; do not doubtful stand
But pay in freely; and ye shall be blest
With more then double, double interest;
And then your praise shall be recorded thus,
That Dives now's turn'd good to Lazarus:
Then shall the poor mans prayers and widdows eyes
Prevail, and keep you from those miseries
Which may ensue; oh let not the advice
Of a poor sinner turn your hearts to ice;
But rather melt your souls into a flood
Of Love; remember whose most precious blood
Stream'd freely forth on purpose to relieve
The poor; it was their sorrows made him grieve;
It was his grief that made our sorrows cease,
It was his bloody war procur'd our peace;
It was his glory made our darkness shine,
It was his Vinegar that prov'd our Wine;
It vvas his stripes that made us truly sound;
It vvas the Balsome of his bleeding vvound,
That eas'd our pain; oh here! oh here's the Cure!
But vvhere's the thanks? 'tvvas he that did endure
23
His pain vvas the fore-runner of our pleasure;
His stripes has made us whole, what need we more
But thankes? accept it Lord, 'tis all our store;
'Tis a thin gratitude, thou art Divine,
Oh therefore turn our water into Wine;
And when dear Lord thy mercy is about
Such works of wonders, turn our insides out;
Oh heal our Leprosie of sin, and then
We'l boast that we are more then perfect men;
Thou that canst Cure the blind, the deaf, the lame,
In healing us wilt get a double fame;
For we are more then deaf, or lame, or blind,
Therefore (oh Lord) be unto us more kind,
For we have cripple consciences; each heart
Of ours is dead; oh raise them by thy art;
And let our eyes make such a sea of tears,
That we may walk upon it without fears;
And when thy judgment brings us to the brink,
Oh let's remember Peter did not sink;
And when thy Cock of mercy, Lord, shall Crow
Let's turn about and weep away our woe,
And let's remember but the Cripples touch
And then oh Lord we'l throw away our Crutch;
Oh let's remember but the blind mans sight,
And we shall come from darkness into light;
Oh let's prepare our hearts and then vve may
Instead of running from thy Judgments stay;
And staying may most happily imbrace
The vvelcome glory of thy spreading grace,
That so our faculties may all combine,
To give thee praise that makes our visage shine;
24
Our Corn, and Oil, shall ever more encrease;
Want, then shall be a stranger, to our Land,
And lib'ral mercy take off Judgments brand;
Then every one with freedom shall encline
T' injoy the fruitful Fig-tree and the Vine:
Thus mercy shall appear unto our Land,
And lead in welcome blessings by the hand:
Then shall our joyes encrease as 'twas of old
The Wolf and Lamb shall Cabbin in one fold;
Religion shall increase and bless our dayes
With sound Divinity; immortal praise
Shall fly to him whose mercy was so free
To own us in our great extremity:
Judge Reader, judge with what a pleasing eye,
The patient looks to see his Doctor by;
The Gally slave that tuggs the painful Oare
Rejoyceth when he seeth a pleasant shoare;
And shall not we that wander in our crimes
Rejoyce to see illuminated times;
And let us (say whose lives are but a span)
With double admiration, What is man!
Lord what is man that thou art so inclin'd
To have him seated alwayes in thy mind?
And shall we not return our thanks with prayer
That alwayes makes our miseries, his care;
Shall we whose sins do more and more increase
Deny, if we repent, a proffer'd peace?
Shall we that have a long time been at warrs
Deny to put a period to our jarrs?
Shall we whose sad calamities increase
Deny to say thrice welcome, welcome Peace?
25
Of mercies) let Hosanna be our song?
Shall we be silent, and contented be
To eat the fruit, and not applaud the Tree?
Oh let not such ingratitude be laid
Unto our charge; oh let it not be said,
That we in times of mercy can be mute,
And kill the tree that gives us pleasant fruit;
Oh let us not, like sucking Children, bite
Our Nurses Nipple, let us not delight
In youthful vanities; oh let's not cry
Because w'are fed, let not our delug'd eye
Find quiet rest untill our sins appear
Minute, like Atoms, in a day that's clear;
Oh let us, whilst it is to day, repent,
And understand that Judgments oft are sent
In tender mercy, zealous David found
Himself a King indeed when he was Crown'd
With his affliction; Patience is a Jemm;
Saul seeking Asses, found a Diadem;
Whilst others, oh I pity them! Ah lass,
Looking for Diadems do find an Ass;
Our ancient Records tell us planly how
An Ass spoke once, w'ave many do so now;
By which we fully may perceive, what then
Were Miracles, are common now, to men.
Englands Tears.
Stay passenger, and let thine eyesSurvey my ample miseries;
26
How I lost my former glory;
The mask of Judgment now does shroud
My visage with a sin-black cloud:
Sin hath got the upper hand,
And Judgment ruleth in my Land;
My raging sorrowes much encrease
And I have lost my wonted peace,
Nor do I know which way to bend
My course; or find a constant friend
I am infected from my Crown
Even to my sole, the angry frown
Of Heaven persues me; and torments
My heart with sullen discontents:
My Soule is sick, my Spirits fail
And I am, to my self, a Goal;
Imprison'd in my sins I lye
For want of good security.
He that was wont to set me free
Infringes now my libertie,
Oh rashness! how am I mistaken,
'Tis he indeed was first forsaken
That now forsakes; oh 'tis but just
To blow away presumptious dust;
Dust, so audacious, that it flys
Into the heedless makers eyes;
And to reward so great a Vice
He turns presumptuous dust, to Lice,
Oh tell me, tell me, what is worse
Then Egypts sin, and Egypts curse?
He whose mercy could not win,
Now justly scourges us for sin;
27
It must be crown'd with grief and pain;
Nor is it fit a King should be
Without attendants: Miserie
Is sins Life-guard, there's no relief
Except it be successive grief;
When Judgment sounds a charge, what arms
Can save us from those fierce alarms?
There is no running, Horse, and Foot
Must be prepared to stand to'it;
And when he sees his foes decline,
He gives the word; Vengeance is mine:
What weakness is it then to boast
Our selves against the Lord of Host;
I'st not a madness then to be
Souldiers without Artillerie?
For if our Ammunition fail,
We are quite routed and turn tail;
Nay, here lies the greatest spight,
W'are most in danger, when in flight,
And so we shall both see and feel
Judgment can wound us in the heel;
But if we will avoid a Rout
We then must wisely face about,
And so we may by mild degrees
Conquer Heaven upon our knees;
The Gun-shot of our hearty prayers,
Will make the Bull-works melt like tears:
We shall be Masters of the field
When true repentance make him yield;
Oh that plunder must be good
That is obtain'd with tears, not blood;
28
To take and keep his Ordinance;
Oh 'twill be good to fortifie
The Castles of our hearts, and try
The power of Sathan, who will run
If he but sees a Heavenly Gun;
Though he loves fire, he proclaims
How much he hates those heavenly flames;
The way t'void so bold a guest
Is to keep flames within our brest,
And then we need not fear nor fly,
We may be wounded, but not die;
Nay, every wound we have shall be
Th' assurance of our Victory:
And if we chance to bleed, oh then
Let's dress our wounds, and to't agen,
Let's neither face, nor wheel about,
Untill we give a perfect rout;
Then, then, we shall be sure to lie
Guarded with security.
He prayed and the Plague ceased.
Prayer and the Plague are two most pow'rful things,
Being both derived from the King of Kings;
The Plague is sent to punish us, but prayer
Extenuates our grief; and crowns our care
With quick deliverance; for he that sent
His Plague, must give us mercy to repent:
He heal'd those waters which in former times
Receiv'd infection from the peoples Crimes;
Prayer is that Balm of Giliad which makes sound
A heart that bleeds it self into a wound,
A wounded heart heav'n never can despise,
Wounds are best cleans'd with waters from our eyes;
Being both derived from the King of Kings;
The Plague is sent to punish us, but prayer
Extenuates our grief; and crowns our care
With quick deliverance; for he that sent
His Plague, must give us mercy to repent:
He heal'd those waters which in former times
Receiv'd infection from the peoples Crimes;
29
A heart that bleeds it self into a wound,
A wounded heart heav'n never can despise,
Wounds are best cleans'd with waters from our eyes;
Heark Reader, heark, what now my Muse resounds
We may want streams, but never shall want wounds;
Heaven bottles up our tears; let us deny
Our selves, and then those bottles needs must fly;
Fly till th'ave made more then Ducalians flood
(Who swims in mercy, cannot drownd in blood)
Let's but remember the reward of Vice,
The very dust being turned into Lice;
The croking Plague of Frogs may make us know,
No sin can be exempted from a woe:
And since we have out-sinn'd that former age
We well may now expect a double rage;
Since multiplyed crimes so much encrease,
'Tis Errour not to bid adue to Peace.
We may want streams, but never shall want wounds;
Heaven bottles up our tears; let us deny
Our selves, and then those bottles needs must fly;
Fly till th'ave made more then Ducalians flood
(Who swims in mercy, cannot drownd in blood)
Let's but remember the reward of Vice,
The very dust being turned into Lice;
The croking Plague of Frogs may make us know,
No sin can be exempted from a woe:
And since we have out-sinn'd that former age
We well may now expect a double rage;
Since multiplyed crimes so much encrease,
'Tis Errour not to bid adue to Peace.
'Tis fit oh Lord that we should know that Air
Which is infected must be clear'd by prayer,
If not, we must expect most fatal times;
For Judgments are still incident to crimes,
If we transgress, Lord, can we think that thou
Canst look upon us with a candid brow;
Needs must we think our sorrow will encrease,
When we unto our selves will speak no peace.
Oh Lord, how more then desp'rate fools are we
That by our sins make open vvar vvith thee,
What's our Artillery vvorth? our best defence
Must be thy grace, and our ovvn innocence;
Oh give us grace, (since sorrovv makes us flee,)
To flutter from our selves, and rest in thee;
But thou art angry, Lord, how shall we dare
To come to thee that hast no cause to spare
Such obstinate offenders: Lord, how oft
Have we abus'd thy mercies; nay, and scoft
At petty judgments; they that will not own
The lest of mercies, must resolve to groan
Under the greatest Judgment, when our sins
Has made us ripe, thy Judgment then begins
To shake the tree; which makes us rudely fall
And bruise each other to our Funeral.
But, Lord, if we can make it but our care
First to repent, it will be thine, to spare.
Which is infected must be clear'd by prayer,
If not, we must expect most fatal times;
For Judgments are still incident to crimes,
If we transgress, Lord, can we think that thou
Canst look upon us with a candid brow;
Needs must we think our sorrow will encrease,
When we unto our selves will speak no peace.
Oh Lord, how more then desp'rate fools are we
That by our sins make open vvar vvith thee,
What's our Artillery vvorth? our best defence
Must be thy grace, and our ovvn innocence;
Oh give us grace, (since sorrovv makes us flee,)
To flutter from our selves, and rest in thee;
30
To come to thee that hast no cause to spare
Such obstinate offenders: Lord, how oft
Have we abus'd thy mercies; nay, and scoft
At petty judgments; they that will not own
The lest of mercies, must resolve to groan
Under the greatest Judgment, when our sins
Has made us ripe, thy Judgment then begins
To shake the tree; which makes us rudely fall
And bruise each other to our Funeral.
But, Lord, if we can make it but our care
First to repent, it will be thine, to spare.
Oh Lord, we must submit unto thy powers,
Mercy is thy delight, and sin, is ours;
What shall we say, or do? all we can say
Is this; we'ave sinned, and we have no way
To shun thy Judgment; therefore vve must flee
First from our selves (oh Lord) and then to thee;
But what are vve the betrer if vve fly
From our ovvn selves unto an angry eye,
An eye that's so consuming, that one frovvn
Has more than povver enough to cast us dovvn;
Nay, cast us dovvn so lovv, that vve must be
In desperation of recovery:
But if vve pray to heaven, his hand has povver
To raise us in one minit of an hour;
And shall not then his glorious name be prais'd,
Oh let us think hovv Lazarus vvas rais'd:
Mercy is thy delight, and sin, is ours;
What shall we say, or do? all we can say
Is this; we'ave sinned, and we have no way
To shun thy Judgment; therefore vve must flee
First from our selves (oh Lord) and then to thee;
But what are vve the betrer if vve fly
From our ovvn selves unto an angry eye,
An eye that's so consuming, that one frovvn
Has more than povver enough to cast us dovvn;
Nay, cast us dovvn so lovv, that vve must be
In desperation of recovery:
But if vve pray to heaven, his hand has povver
To raise us in one minit of an hour;
And shall not then his glorious name be prais'd,
Oh let us think hovv Lazarus vvas rais'd:
Novv Reader, give me liberty to make
A small digression; my ovvn self must take
My self in hand, and to the vvorld express
My thanks to him vvho in despight of ill
Preserv'd me (as I hope) to do his vvill:
'Tvvas so that fortune lately brought me dovvn
So lovv that I vvas sunk, ready to drovvn;
But by a povverful arm he thought it good
In mercy, to preserve me from the flood:
And shall I then despair? no, let my Friends
Still gaze upon me, Job had no bad ends;
Though some rash words, Lord, let my sorrows be
Upon me, till in Faith I turn to thee;
Oh turn me, for indeed I am so weak
I cannot turn my self, nor can I speak
Till thou unty'st my tongue; which if by thee
Unty'd, my language shall be truly free:
The language of a sinner to his God
Pronounc'd in zeal impedes the powerful Rod
From lashing him, oh Lord, I truly know
Thy Rod is kindness rightly us'd, not woe;
Witness thy servant who (thrice happy) stood
Assured that affliction was his good;
And since 'twas so, oh give me grace to see
Being good for him, it must be good for me;
Affliction, like good Physick, must be sure,
To make us sick, before it makes a Cure;
Oh happy's, he that this grand truth can tell
He's truly sick indeed, in being well:
Affliction's no disgrace, 'tis but a sign
That all the graces joyntly do combine
T'administer the freeness of their will,
To part the grieved Patient and his ill;
And thus th' inclining graces gently strive
To keep th' impatient patient still alive,
That so he may with bounty give the Fee
Of humble thanks to him that set him free;
Suppose thou wert impris'ned with the Gout;
So tortur'd that thou couldst not go about
Thy necessary business; wouldst thou be
Ungrateful to that hand that set thee free?
Consider, wouldst thou? nay, consider well,
Think once again, and having thought, then tell,
Tell what thou thinkst; methinks I hear thee say
Heav'n bless that hand that took my grief away;
He heal'd me, shall not gratefull I, advance
My Thoughts, and sing forth my deliverance;
Oh give me Davids Harp, and Davids Heart
Then vvill I sing his praise in every part,
That so at last I gravely may express
Full Diapasons of my happiness;
And vvhen his mercies I have truely found
I'le run Division on a pleasant ground;
I'le tune my self to such a perfect strain
That every Note shall ravish every brain,
That vvere old Orpheus living he should say
His Musick vvas but discord to my laye:
Needs must that song be ravishing and true
When Heav'n makes th' Musick, and Musician too;
Oh let me be vvell sounded vvith desire,
And thou vvilt play most svveetly on thy Lyre;
Thy sacred fingers vvill touch every string
With such perfection, that vvhilst Angels sing
Man shall admire in Raptures, and proclaim
Perpetual Hallelujahs to thy Name.
A small digression; my ovvn self must take
My self in hand, and to the vvorld express
My thanks to him vvho in despight of ill
Preserv'd me (as I hope) to do his vvill:
31
So lovv that I vvas sunk, ready to drovvn;
But by a povverful arm he thought it good
In mercy, to preserve me from the flood:
And shall I then despair? no, let my Friends
Still gaze upon me, Job had no bad ends;
Though some rash words, Lord, let my sorrows be
Upon me, till in Faith I turn to thee;
Oh turn me, for indeed I am so weak
I cannot turn my self, nor can I speak
Till thou unty'st my tongue; which if by thee
Unty'd, my language shall be truly free:
The language of a sinner to his God
Pronounc'd in zeal impedes the powerful Rod
From lashing him, oh Lord, I truly know
Thy Rod is kindness rightly us'd, not woe;
Witness thy servant who (thrice happy) stood
Assured that affliction was his good;
And since 'twas so, oh give me grace to see
Being good for him, it must be good for me;
Affliction, like good Physick, must be sure,
To make us sick, before it makes a Cure;
Oh happy's, he that this grand truth can tell
He's truly sick indeed, in being well:
Affliction's no disgrace, 'tis but a sign
That all the graces joyntly do combine
T'administer the freeness of their will,
To part the grieved Patient and his ill;
And thus th' inclining graces gently strive
To keep th' impatient patient still alive,
That so he may with bounty give the Fee
Of humble thanks to him that set him free;
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So tortur'd that thou couldst not go about
Thy necessary business; wouldst thou be
Ungrateful to that hand that set thee free?
Consider, wouldst thou? nay, consider well,
Think once again, and having thought, then tell,
Tell what thou thinkst; methinks I hear thee say
Heav'n bless that hand that took my grief away;
He heal'd me, shall not gratefull I, advance
My Thoughts, and sing forth my deliverance;
Oh give me Davids Harp, and Davids Heart
Then vvill I sing his praise in every part,
That so at last I gravely may express
Full Diapasons of my happiness;
And vvhen his mercies I have truely found
I'le run Division on a pleasant ground;
I'le tune my self to such a perfect strain
That every Note shall ravish every brain,
That vvere old Orpheus living he should say
His Musick vvas but discord to my laye:
Needs must that song be ravishing and true
When Heav'n makes th' Musick, and Musician too;
Oh let me be vvell sounded vvith desire,
And thou vvilt play most svveetly on thy Lyre;
Thy sacred fingers vvill touch every string
With such perfection, that vvhilst Angels sing
Man shall admire in Raptures, and proclaim
Perpetual Hallelujahs to thy Name.
FINIS.
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