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. 18.
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 | Divine poems |  |
Meditat. 18.
The jaw bone of an Asse? how poore a thing
God makes his powerfull Instrument to bring
Some honour to his name, and to advance
His greater glory! came this bone, by chance,
To Samsons hand? Or could the Army goe
No further? but must needs expect a foe
Iust where his weapon of destruction lay?
Was there no fitter place, for them to stay,
But even just there? How small a thing 't had bin
(If they had beene so provident) to winne
The day with ease? Had they but taken thence
That cursed bone, what colour of defence
Had Samson found? Or how could he withstood
The necessary danger of his bloud?
God makes his powerfull Instrument to bring
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His greater glory! came this bone, by chance,
To Samsons hand? Or could the Army goe
No further? but must needs expect a foe
Iust where his weapon of destruction lay?
Was there no fitter place, for them to stay,
But even just there? How small a thing 't had bin
(If they had beene so provident) to winne
The day with ease? Had they but taken thence
That cursed bone, what colour of defence
Had Samson found? Or how could he withstood
The necessary danger of his bloud?
Where Heav'n doth please to ruine, humane wit
Must faile, and deeper policie must submit:
There, wisdome must be fool'd, & strength of braine
Must worke against it selfe, or worke in vaine:
The tracke that seemes most likely, often leads
To death; and where securitie most pleads,
There, dangers, in their fairest shapes, appeare,
And give us not so great a helpe, as feare:
The things we least suspect are often they,
That most affect our ruine, and betray:
Who would have thought, the silly Asses bone,
Not worth the spurning, should have overthrowne
So stout a band? Heav'n oftentimes thinkes best,
To overcome the greatest with the least:
He gaines most glory in things, that are most slight,
And winnes in honour, what they want in might:
Who would have thought that Samsons deadly thurst
Should have bin quencht with waters, that did burst
And flow from that dry bone? who would not thinke
The thirstie Conquerour, for want of drinke,
Should first have died? what mad man could presume
So dry a tooth should yeeld so great a Rheume?
God does not worke like man; nor is he tyed
To outward meanes: His pleasure is his guide,
Not Reason: He, that is the God of nature,
Can worke against it: He that is Creator
Of all things, can dispose them, to attend
His will, forgetting their created end:
Hee whose Almighty power did supply
This bone with water, made the red Sea dry:
Must faile, and deeper policie must submit:
There, wisdome must be fool'd, & strength of braine
Must worke against it selfe, or worke in vaine:
The tracke that seemes most likely, often leads
To death; and where securitie most pleads,
There, dangers, in their fairest shapes, appeare,
And give us not so great a helpe, as feare:
The things we least suspect are often they,
That most affect our ruine, and betray:
Who would have thought, the silly Asses bone,
Not worth the spurning, should have overthrowne
So stout a band? Heav'n oftentimes thinkes best,
To overcome the greatest with the least:
He gaines most glory in things, that are most slight,
And winnes in honour, what they want in might:
Who would have thought that Samsons deadly thurst
Should have bin quencht with waters, that did burst
And flow from that dry bone? who would not thinke
The thirstie Conquerour, for want of drinke,
Should first have died? what mad man could presume
So dry a tooth should yeeld so great a Rheume?
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To outward meanes: His pleasure is his guide,
Not Reason: He, that is the God of nature,
Can worke against it: He that is Creator
Of all things, can dispose them, to attend
His will, forgetting their created end:
Hee whose Almighty power did supply
This bone with water, made the red Sea dry:
Great God of nature, 'Tis as great an ease
For thee to alter nature, if thou please,
As to create it; Let that hand of thine
Shew forth thy powre, and please to alter mine:
My sinnes are open, but my sorrow's hid;
I cannot drench my couch, as David did;
My braines are marble, and my heart is stone:
O strike mine eyes, as thou didst strike that bone.
For thee to alter nature, if thou please,
As to create it; Let that hand of thine
Shew forth thy powre, and please to alter mine:
My sinnes are open, but my sorrow's hid;
I cannot drench my couch, as David did;
My braines are marble, and my heart is stone:
O strike mine eyes, as thou didst strike that bone.
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