The Life of Our Blessed Lord & Saviour Jesus Christ An Heroic Poem: Dedicated to Her Most Sacred Majesty. In Ten Books. Attempted by Samuel Wesley ... Each Book illustrated by necessary Notes, explaining all the more difficult Matters in the whole History: Also a Prefatory Discourse concerning Heroic Poetry. With Sixty Copper-Plates |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
Book V.
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| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
 | The Life of Our Blessed Lord & Saviour Jesus Christ |  |
144
Book V.
THE ARGUMENT OF THE Fifth BOOK.
The Apostle proceeds and relates the Miracle of the Loaves, at which the Multitude surpriz'd, would again have forc'd our Saviour to accept of the Kingdom; but he retires from them, and continues all Night praying in one of the Proseuchæ or Oratories of the Jews, having sent his Disciples cross the Lake towards Capernaum; whom he overtakes, walking on the Sea, before it was Day; the Disciples being affrighted, till knowing his Voice, St. Peter leaves the Ship and goes towards him, who, when ready to sink, supports him, and entring the Ship, they immediately land between Bethsaida and Capernaum; to the latter of which our Saviour goes with his Disciples, being followed by the Multitude, more for Interest than Devotion. His Sermon to them, in the Synagogue, on that Subject, and Discourse concerning eating his Flesh and drinking his Blood, at which, the Jews being offended, many of his Followers forsake him; and upon his Apostles Protestation of Fidelity, he prophesies that one of them should betray him. He cures the Son of Chuza, Herod's Steward, when desperately ill of a Fever, on which he himself, who had before been an Herodian, became his Follower, with all his House. The Miracle of the Centurion's Servant, Simon's Wife's-Mother, and the Paralytick, at Capernaum; and that on Blind Bartimæus, at Jericho. Going up to Jerusalem, he cures one that was born Blind, curses the Fig-tree; the first time purges the Temple of Buyers and Sellers, and cures the infirm Man, at the Pool of Bethesda. The Apostle next recites several of his Parables, that of the wicked Judg, and importunate Widow, the cruel Servant, the rich Miser, the Pharisee and Publican, and, more at large, that of the Prodigal Son; which newly finished, Chuza, who was an Acquaintant of Gamaliel's, being in Town against the Passover, comes to his House, brings his Friend the Centurion with him; where finding St. John and the other Disciples, whom he had formerly seen in Galilee, he desires a fuller account of the Mysteries of the Christian Faith, and the Person of our Saviour. This the beloved Disciple agrees to give him. Whose Preparations for it conclude the Fifth Book.
145
Thus far, attent, and pleas'd the Fathers hear,
Nor any signs of weariness appear;
Tho' half the day was past, and Sol had driv'n
His flaming Courses to the top of Heav'n:
Th' Apostle paus'd, his Hearers cou'd not stay
But urge him on, impatient of delay;
What yet behind more earnest press to tell,
Nay not t'omit one Word or Miracle:
Who thus proceeds—Nor long our Lord conceal'd
Lay there, e'en more by his Retreat reveal'd;
As the Suns Face is with more Eyes survey'd,
When veil'd in an Eclipses dusky shade:
Where he himself and his lov'd Twelve repos'd
Some Shepherds to the neighb'ring Towns disclos'd,
They flock by Thousands and the Saviour found,
As him the Twelve, they them encompass round:
Where on an easie Hillock rais'd he taught,
At once instructs, and cures who e'er were brought:
With him the Multitude unweary'd stay
Till length'ning shadows show'd declining day.
When the Disciples hasten'd them away
From the wild Desart, where with Hunger prest
And Travel tir'd, they'd neither Food nor Rest:
Compassionate our Saviour casts his Eyes
Amidst th' expecting Crowd, and thus replies:
And shall we so unhospitably use
Our Guests? a short Refreshment them refuse?
Whom if the Night and Hunger joyn'd oppress,
They'll faint and perish in the Wilderness?
Rather let's all our own small Stores impart,
Presented with a cheerful face and heart.
When frugal Philip and wise Andrew cry'd,
Whence shall we Bread for such vast Crowds provide?
Five Loaves our stock, to which we chanc'd to take
Two Fishes, lately angling on the Lake.
Give what you have out of your narrow store
Our Lord, rejoyns, nor I, nor Heav'n ask more:
Be't yours t'invite and place the Company,
Dispose of them, and leave the rest to me.
This with his wonted Majesty he said,
And they with faith and wonder mixt obey'd:
Five Thousand Souls tho' we unreckon'd pass
The weaker Sex and Age, upon the Grass,
Which plenteous flourish'd there, discumbent laid
For their great Benefactor's bounty staid:
Whom whilst half-fainting him intent they ey'd,
We in a hundred different Troops divide:
Then in those glorious Hands the Food he takes
By which what e'er he please, what e'er he please he makes;
His hands and eyes at once to Heav'n he rais'd
From whence all good, and the great Giver prais'd:
Then blest, and brake, and gave—A strange surprise
Seiz'd all, nor cou'd we trust our hands or eyes
Till tast assisted—we from him receive
And to th' astonish'd Crowd around us give
Both Fish and Bread, a welcom humble Treat,
Each wond'ring Guest with Thanks and Praises Eat:
Still unexhausted our miraculous store,
Till all the Company suffic'd give o'er;
When, as he bids, what still amaz'd us more,
Gathering the broken reliques of the Feast,
We saw the Wonder like the Loaves increas'd:
Twelve empty Baskets in the Vessel lay
Wherein we Fish from place to place convey:
For these t'our Mates on Shipboard left we call,
And with the wond'rous Fragments fill'd 'em all:
Loud shouts the People gave which shook the Ground,
Tabor and Carmel's distant hills resound:
In grateful Songs spread the soft Sex his Fame,
“And teach their stamm'ring Babes to lisp his Name:
The Men in frequent knots together crowd,
First whisp'ring, murm'ring then, then speak aloud:
The Heathen Yoke why shou'd they longer wear,
Proud Herod and th' insulting Romans bear,
When Heav'n had sent 'em a Deliverer;
Who all their Wounds cou'd cure, their Wants supply,
Nay e'en their Lives restore, if in his Cause they die?
Greater than Moses's self, by him foretold,
And all the holy Messengers of old:
That Greatness whence he learnt a Crown to scorn
Declares he for a Crown was only born:
We've Force enough, a greater Army we
Than joyn'd at Modin the brave Maccabee:
No longer his injurious modesty
Let's suffer thus to hide his worth in vain,
And thus defraud all Israel of his reign.
First for Tiberias under him we'll go,
Samaria next our Princes pow'r shall know;
And next Jerusalem, where stronger grown,
We'll fix him on his Father David's Throne:
Wrought to the height they Palms and Garments bring,
Hail promis'd Prince they cry'd, hail Israel's King!
Their dang'rous kindness quickly drives him thence,
Against a Crown, Flight's only his defence:
Of this far more than all his Foes, affraid;
By hast'ning night at once, and the thick shade
Favour'd, he scap'd, and did himself convey
T'a place remote where oft he us'd to pray;
Wall'd on the sides, as custom is, to yield
A shelter from wild Beasts that range the field:
Wide ope' to Heav'n, unless by chance 'twas found
With pleasant Trees, like some fair Arbor crown'd,
By pious Industry thick planted round:
Here stay'd alone, till night began to wear,
In Meditation, holy Hymns and Pray'r:
Mean while the chosen Twelve at his Command
Directly steer for rich Capern'um's Land,
Where with Bethsaida's pleasant Coasts 'tis joyn'd.
Long had we row'd and beat it in the Wind,
But yet with all our labour made no way;
And now shrill Cocks foretold th' approach of day
Which glad we heard, tho' yet no beam of light;
All Sea-marks hid in the tempestuous night:
Still wrought the Waves, the Bark so rudely tost,
Our Lord not there, we gave our selves for lost:
The Mast came close by th' Board, the Helm was gone;
An useless hulk we lay, and floated on,
As the Waves pleas'd, 'twas vain we thought to strive,
Nor cou'd two Glasses more expect to live:
Some Rafts, and Boards provide, some ready stand
To quit the Ship and try to reach the Land;
Then of each other our last farewel take;
—When sudden, thus concern'd, Barjonas spake;
Or my Eyes fail me, Mates! or on the Lake
Something approaching to the Ship I see:
We look'd, and all in the same thoughts agree.
Forward it mov'd, in humane Form appear'd,
Till with us close came up; anew we fear'd
Some danger worse than death—still nearer view'd
Some horrid Spectre 'tis, we all conclude;
Which when we at the very Poop perceive,
We with loud Shreeks prepare the Ship to leave;
While crowding to the Stern in hast we fled
Distinct th' Appearance spoke, and thus it said:
—“Courage my Friends! me still at need you'll find!
“'Tis I my self—Give these vain fears to th' Wind.
The dear-lov'd Voice we heard twixt hope and fear,
Yet hardly durst believe our help so near:
When Cephas thus, if Lord thy Voice it be
Agen let's hear, and bid me come to thee!
Agen he spake, whilst rapt in Joy we stand,
And mild, invites him with his Voice and Hand!
Away he springs on the wide watry field,
Solid as Rocks the Waves refus'd to yield:
With daring feet thro' paths unknown he goes,
And rises as the rolling Surges rose:
But when he saw the surly Ocean frown,
The hollow hanging Waves look lowring down,
He in a dreadful Vale, the Seas and Night
Conjoyn'd to intercept our Saviour's sight;
The Storm more fierce, the Winds obstruct his race,
And dash the twisted foam against his Face;
Surpriz'd with fear he felt the slipp'ry Wave
Sink underneath, and cry'd—O Master save!
He heard, and did his want of Faith upbraid:
He heard and sav'd, but asks him, Why affraid?
Whence he so soon cou'd so forgetful prove,
And whether he distrusts his Pow'r or Love?
Then to the Ship receiv'd—
We knew him all, and all our Lord adore,
And the next moment safely reach'd the shore:
Nor long upon the sounding Beach we walk'd
And of the various fears and dangers talk'd
That dreadful night escap'd, e'er welcom day
Did o'er sweet Hermon's Hill its beams display:
To meet the Sun on a warm sandy Bed
Fronting to East our Nets and Cloaths we spread;
These quickly dry'd, thence to Capernaum went,
To whose fair walls his steps our Saviour bent:
But e'er we reach'd the Town, as back we threw
Our wand'ring Eyes the pleasant Lake to view,
We saw the Western side thick cover'd or
With Ships and Men, we saw the cluster'd shore
Grow thinner by degrees, till black no more
Its Face appear'd, but a fair prospect yields;
Here ragged Rocks and Sands, there verdant Fields;
Whilst the green Sea as late the crouded strand
Is blacken'd o'r like some well-wooded Land:
So when their way a flight of Locusts takes
From Lubims wild and Chelonidian Lakes;
While Mizraim's Sons their sacred Ox implore
And trembling see the Plague wide hov'ring o'r;
So when the Westwind clears their reedy Shore,
Their Fields do's of their straggling Squadrons sweep,
Precipitating in the Arabian deep;
So looks the Gulph, when they a period find
To their long Voy'ge, and driven by the VVind
Almost from Shore to Shore, their Bodies spred,
Changing the Sea to black which once was red:
So lookt the Lake, when from the distant side
Under a gentle Gale their Oars they ply'd,
The Wind ver'd round to VVest, at once they sweep
With equal numerous strokes the angry deep;
At once their secret liquid way they find,
And leave alike long closing paths behind;
At once their Vessels cut the yielding Sand,
They at Chorazin or Caperna'm land:
Where soon surpriz'd, our Lord again they found,
For well they knew he cou'd not coast it round
By Land thro' fair Bethsaida's bending Shore,
Nor Boat, with winged Sail, or Fin-like Oar
To waft him cross, his own put off before.
Solicitous they ask him, when and how
He thither came; who with a steddy brow
Thus answers them severe, “If I shou'd tell
This would no more than the last Miracle
Convince your unbelief—Too well I see
You rather seek the wond'rous Loaves than me:
Fond Men! employ not thus your fruitless pain
The miscall'd Goods of this false VVorld to gain!
Why so much toil and care for per'shing meat,
And why no more for what th' Immortals eat?
With this I all my faithful Foll'wers cheer,
To scatter this my Father sent me here,
And seal's with Miracles; this you'll receive
If you his words obey, and mine believe.
Nor any signs of weariness appear;
Tho' half the day was past, and Sol had driv'n
His flaming Courses to the top of Heav'n:
Th' Apostle paus'd, his Hearers cou'd not stay
But urge him on, impatient of delay;
What yet behind more earnest press to tell,
Nay not t'omit one Word or Miracle:
Who thus proceeds—Nor long our Lord conceal'd
Lay there, e'en more by his Retreat reveal'd;
146
When veil'd in an Eclipses dusky shade:
Where he himself and his lov'd Twelve repos'd
Some Shepherds to the neighb'ring Towns disclos'd,
They flock by Thousands and the Saviour found,
As him the Twelve, they them encompass round:
Where on an easie Hillock rais'd he taught,
At once instructs, and cures who e'er were brought:
With him the Multitude unweary'd stay
Till length'ning shadows show'd declining day.
When the Disciples hasten'd them away
From the wild Desart, where with Hunger prest
And Travel tir'd, they'd neither Food nor Rest:
Compassionate our Saviour casts his Eyes
Amidst th' expecting Crowd, and thus replies:
And shall we so unhospitably use
Our Guests? a short Refreshment them refuse?
Whom if the Night and Hunger joyn'd oppress,
They'll faint and perish in the Wilderness?
Rather let's all our own small Stores impart,
Presented with a cheerful face and heart.
When frugal Philip and wise Andrew cry'd,
Whence shall we Bread for such vast Crowds provide?
Five Loaves our stock, to which we chanc'd to take
Two Fishes, lately angling on the Lake.
Give what you have out of your narrow store
Our Lord, rejoyns, nor I, nor Heav'n ask more:
Be't yours t'invite and place the Company,
Dispose of them, and leave the rest to me.
This with his wonted Majesty he said,
And they with faith and wonder mixt obey'd:
Five Thousand Souls tho' we unreckon'd pass
The weaker Sex and Age, upon the Grass,
Which plenteous flourish'd there, discumbent laid
For their great Benefactor's bounty staid:
Whom whilst half-fainting him intent they ey'd,
We in a hundred different Troops divide:
Then in those glorious Hands the Food he takes
By which what e'er he please, what e'er he please he makes;
His hands and eyes at once to Heav'n he rais'd
147
Then blest, and brake, and gave—A strange surprise
Seiz'd all, nor cou'd we trust our hands or eyes
Till tast assisted—we from him receive
And to th' astonish'd Crowd around us give
Both Fish and Bread, a welcom humble Treat,
Each wond'ring Guest with Thanks and Praises Eat:
Still unexhausted our miraculous store,
Till all the Company suffic'd give o'er;
When, as he bids, what still amaz'd us more,
Gathering the broken reliques of the Feast,
We saw the Wonder like the Loaves increas'd:
Twelve empty Baskets in the Vessel lay
Wherein we Fish from place to place convey:
For these t'our Mates on Shipboard left we call,
And with the wond'rous Fragments fill'd 'em all:
Loud shouts the People gave which shook the Ground,
Tabor and Carmel's distant hills resound:
In grateful Songs spread the soft Sex his Fame,
“And teach their stamm'ring Babes to lisp his Name:
The Men in frequent knots together crowd,
First whisp'ring, murm'ring then, then speak aloud:
The Heathen Yoke why shou'd they longer wear,
Proud Herod and th' insulting Romans bear,
When Heav'n had sent 'em a Deliverer;
Who all their Wounds cou'd cure, their Wants supply,
Nay e'en their Lives restore, if in his Cause they die?
Greater than Moses's self, by him foretold,
And all the holy Messengers of old:
That Greatness whence he learnt a Crown to scorn
Declares he for a Crown was only born:
We've Force enough, a greater Army we
Than joyn'd at Modin the brave Maccabee:
No longer his injurious modesty
Let's suffer thus to hide his worth in vain,
And thus defraud all Israel of his reign.
First for Tiberias under him we'll go,
Samaria next our Princes pow'r shall know;
And next Jerusalem, where stronger grown,
We'll fix him on his Father David's Throne:
148
Hail promis'd Prince they cry'd, hail Israel's King!
Their dang'rous kindness quickly drives him thence,
Against a Crown, Flight's only his defence:
Of this far more than all his Foes, affraid;
By hast'ning night at once, and the thick shade
Favour'd, he scap'd, and did himself convey
T'a place remote where oft he us'd to pray;
Wall'd on the sides, as custom is, to yield
A shelter from wild Beasts that range the field:
Wide ope' to Heav'n, unless by chance 'twas found
With pleasant Trees, like some fair Arbor crown'd,
By pious Industry thick planted round:
Here stay'd alone, till night began to wear,
In Meditation, holy Hymns and Pray'r:
Mean while the chosen Twelve at his Command
Directly steer for rich Capern'um's Land,
Where with Bethsaida's pleasant Coasts 'tis joyn'd.
Long had we row'd and beat it in the Wind,
But yet with all our labour made no way;
And now shrill Cocks foretold th' approach of day
Which glad we heard, tho' yet no beam of light;
All Sea-marks hid in the tempestuous night:
Still wrought the Waves, the Bark so rudely tost,
Our Lord not there, we gave our selves for lost:
The Mast came close by th' Board, the Helm was gone;
An useless hulk we lay, and floated on,
As the Waves pleas'd, 'twas vain we thought to strive,
Nor cou'd two Glasses more expect to live:
Some Rafts, and Boards provide, some ready stand
To quit the Ship and try to reach the Land;
Then of each other our last farewel take;
—When sudden, thus concern'd, Barjonas spake;
Or my Eyes fail me, Mates! or on the Lake
Something approaching to the Ship I see:
We look'd, and all in the same thoughts agree.
Forward it mov'd, in humane Form appear'd,
Till with us close came up; anew we fear'd
Some danger worse than death—still nearer view'd
Some horrid Spectre 'tis, we all conclude;
149
We with loud Shreeks prepare the Ship to leave;
While crowding to the Stern in hast we fled
Distinct th' Appearance spoke, and thus it said:
—“Courage my Friends! me still at need you'll find!
“'Tis I my self—Give these vain fears to th' Wind.
The dear-lov'd Voice we heard twixt hope and fear,
Yet hardly durst believe our help so near:
When Cephas thus, if Lord thy Voice it be
Agen let's hear, and bid me come to thee!
Agen he spake, whilst rapt in Joy we stand,
And mild, invites him with his Voice and Hand!
Away he springs on the wide watry field,
Solid as Rocks the Waves refus'd to yield:
With daring feet thro' paths unknown he goes,
And rises as the rolling Surges rose:
But when he saw the surly Ocean frown,
The hollow hanging Waves look lowring down,
He in a dreadful Vale, the Seas and Night
Conjoyn'd to intercept our Saviour's sight;
The Storm more fierce, the Winds obstruct his race,
And dash the twisted foam against his Face;
Surpriz'd with fear he felt the slipp'ry Wave
Sink underneath, and cry'd—O Master save!
He heard, and did his want of Faith upbraid:
He heard and sav'd, but asks him, Why affraid?
Whence he so soon cou'd so forgetful prove,
And whether he distrusts his Pow'r or Love?
Then to the Ship receiv'd—
We knew him all, and all our Lord adore,
And the next moment safely reach'd the shore:
Nor long upon the sounding Beach we walk'd
And of the various fears and dangers talk'd
That dreadful night escap'd, e'er welcom day
Did o'er sweet Hermon's Hill its beams display:
To meet the Sun on a warm sandy Bed
Fronting to East our Nets and Cloaths we spread;
These quickly dry'd, thence to Capernaum went,
To whose fair walls his steps our Saviour bent:
But e'er we reach'd the Town, as back we threw
150
We saw the Western side thick cover'd or
With Ships and Men, we saw the cluster'd shore
Grow thinner by degrees, till black no more
Its Face appear'd, but a fair prospect yields;
Here ragged Rocks and Sands, there verdant Fields;
Whilst the green Sea as late the crouded strand
Is blacken'd o'r like some well-wooded Land:
So when their way a flight of Locusts takes
From Lubims wild and Chelonidian Lakes;
While Mizraim's Sons their sacred Ox implore
And trembling see the Plague wide hov'ring o'r;
So when the Westwind clears their reedy Shore,
Their Fields do's of their straggling Squadrons sweep,
Precipitating in the Arabian deep;
So looks the Gulph, when they a period find
To their long Voy'ge, and driven by the VVind
Almost from Shore to Shore, their Bodies spred,
Changing the Sea to black which once was red:
So lookt the Lake, when from the distant side
Under a gentle Gale their Oars they ply'd,
The Wind ver'd round to VVest, at once they sweep
With equal numerous strokes the angry deep;
At once their secret liquid way they find,
And leave alike long closing paths behind;
At once their Vessels cut the yielding Sand,
They at Chorazin or Caperna'm land:
Where soon surpriz'd, our Lord again they found,
For well they knew he cou'd not coast it round
By Land thro' fair Bethsaida's bending Shore,
Nor Boat, with winged Sail, or Fin-like Oar
To waft him cross, his own put off before.
Solicitous they ask him, when and how
He thither came; who with a steddy brow
Thus answers them severe, “If I shou'd tell
This would no more than the last Miracle
Convince your unbelief—Too well I see
You rather seek the wond'rous Loaves than me:
Fond Men! employ not thus your fruitless pain
The miscall'd Goods of this false VVorld to gain!
151
And why no more for what th' Immortals eat?
With this I all my faithful Foll'wers cheer,
To scatter this my Father sent me here,
And seal's with Miracles; this you'll receive
If you his words obey, and mine believe.
The indocil Croud more VVonders still desire,
New Signs from Heav'n, yet more august and higher:
Nothing but Manna pleases, that they fain
Wou'd tast, their stiff-neck'd Fathers did disdain:
For Angels Food they long, to gratifie.
Their curious, yet their lazy Luxury:
How gladly he had their Messia been
T'have sav'd 'em from their work, tho' not their Sin!
For this the Empire of the World to gain
That they in solid sloth might ever reign:
Not so our Lord, who Labour recommends,
And but th' industrious, none esteems his Friends:
Nor wou'd more Wonders work, lest if they grow
Too cheap and mean, they shou'd no more be so:
But tells 'em, 'twas not Moses did bestow
That Manna, which they did from Heav'n receive,
Nor was ev'n that the best that Heav'n cou'd give:
Its choicest Fare had Virtues far more high,
Virtues which those who tast can never die.
That Bread they fain wou'd have, That Bread am I,
Rejoins our Lord, tho' not as you desire;
I not the Body, but the Mind inspire
With Strength Celestial, Vigour all Divine,
To do my Fathers Will, and his is mine:
Who thus I'll guard till Life's sad Scene be o'r,
Nor shall they ever thirst or hunger more:
Who e'r my Father sends, by the sure Sign
Of a good Faith and Life distinguish'd mine;
These with his Grace and Holy Spirit endu'd,
(Man's bad is all his own, Heav'ns all his good;)
These I'll receive, none e'r repell'd shall be,
Who leave the World and Sin and come to me:
Yes, those who to my sacred Laws incline,
And keep sincere, for only those are mine;
Nor Earths weak force, nor Hells infernal bands
Shall snatch or wrest from my tenacious hands:
Them will I guard and keep in secret there
Until the last great Day, then with me bear
To judg the World unjust and doom to pain,
Then by my side in endless Glory reign.
New Signs from Heav'n, yet more august and higher:
Nothing but Manna pleases, that they fain
Wou'd tast, their stiff-neck'd Fathers did disdain:
For Angels Food they long, to gratifie.
Their curious, yet their lazy Luxury:
How gladly he had their Messia been
T'have sav'd 'em from their work, tho' not their Sin!
For this the Empire of the World to gain
That they in solid sloth might ever reign:
Not so our Lord, who Labour recommends,
And but th' industrious, none esteems his Friends:
Nor wou'd more Wonders work, lest if they grow
Too cheap and mean, they shou'd no more be so:
But tells 'em, 'twas not Moses did bestow
That Manna, which they did from Heav'n receive,
Nor was ev'n that the best that Heav'n cou'd give:
Its choicest Fare had Virtues far more high,
Virtues which those who tast can never die.
That Bread they fain wou'd have, That Bread am I,
Rejoins our Lord, tho' not as you desire;
I not the Body, but the Mind inspire
With Strength Celestial, Vigour all Divine,
To do my Fathers Will, and his is mine:
Who thus I'll guard till Life's sad Scene be o'r,
Nor shall they ever thirst or hunger more:
Who e'r my Father sends, by the sure Sign
Of a good Faith and Life distinguish'd mine;
These with his Grace and Holy Spirit endu'd,
(Man's bad is all his own, Heav'ns all his good;)
These I'll receive, none e'r repell'd shall be,
Who leave the World and Sin and come to me:
Yes, those who to my sacred Laws incline,
And keep sincere, for only those are mine;
152
Shall snatch or wrest from my tenacious hands:
Them will I guard and keep in secret there
Until the last great Day, then with me bear
To judg the World unjust and doom to pain,
Then by my side in endless Glory reign.
These new uncommon Truths still more amuse,
More harden still th' already harden'd Jews:
Him for low Birth and high pretence they scorn,
What—Was he not a Galilean born
In little Naz'reth? Know we not, they cry
His humble Parents, can he them deny?
Joseph the Carpenter—H' has oft workt here;
His Mother Mary—his Relations near
On either side—How can it ever be?
Did these too come from Heav'n as well as he?
More harden still th' already harden'd Jews:
Him for low Birth and high pretence they scorn,
What—Was he not a Galilean born
In little Naz'reth? Know we not, they cry
His humble Parents, can he them deny?
Joseph the Carpenter—H' has oft workt here;
His Mother Mary—his Relations near
On either side—How can it ever be?
Did these too come from Heav'n as well as he?
Our Saviour thus—if this you not receive
How will ye yet far stranger Truths believe?
Murmur no more in vain—Agen, I say,
'Tis I, I only am to Heav'n the way;
My Flesh such Bread, who tasts it never dies:
My Body an unblemish'd Sacrifice
To my great Fathers pleasure I resign,
My Blood effus'd at large, the only Wine
Can cheer your Souls; unless you these obtain
Your hope of Immortality's in vain.
Seems this so strange that I from Heav'n came down
Stript from my Robes of Light and starry Crown?
What Admiration wou'd possess you then
If thro' the Air you see me mount agen?
If Angels you my Ministers shou'd find
A Cloud my Chariot, and my Wings the Wind?
O hard of heart! Yet won't you understand
What I reveal, nor do what I command?
Your gross, your carnal minds immers'd in Love
Of this low World, unfit for that above:
A hidden secret Sense my words imply,
Those who believe my words shall never die.
Nor this can their false prejudice prevent
Murm'ring, the giddy Croud from Jesus went;
Reprov'd and disappointed leave the Shore
In shoals as thick as they arriv'd before:
Almost alone himself our Lord did find
And none besides his chosen Twelve behind;
Then with a sigh which not from Pride did flow
But Pity, mildly asks—Will you too go?
When fervent Cephas thus, who scarce cou'd bear
So hard a thought—To whom dear Lord, or where?
Thou, endless Life on those who thee implore
Bestow'st, and is there any can give more?
We know thou must the true Messiah be,
Our Hopes, our Souls, are all repos'd on thee.
Agen with Sighs he did his sorrow show,
More you, he says, than you your selves I know:
Your Folly, and your Frailty I survey,
Your deepest thoughts as light and clear as day:
I know the wretch who will his Lord betray;
One of the Twelve I from the World did chuse
T'obey my Father, thence my Life I lose:
Soon will he with base Slanders me accuse,
Soon will the Fiend himself, a dreadful Guest
Seise for his own his avaritious breast.
We all with just concern and horror hear,
Each ey'd the next, but for himself did fear:
How will ye yet far stranger Truths believe?
Murmur no more in vain—Agen, I say,
'Tis I, I only am to Heav'n the way;
My Flesh such Bread, who tasts it never dies:
My Body an unblemish'd Sacrifice
To my great Fathers pleasure I resign,
My Blood effus'd at large, the only Wine
Can cheer your Souls; unless you these obtain
Your hope of Immortality's in vain.
Seems this so strange that I from Heav'n came down
Stript from my Robes of Light and starry Crown?
What Admiration wou'd possess you then
If thro' the Air you see me mount agen?
If Angels you my Ministers shou'd find
A Cloud my Chariot, and my Wings the Wind?
O hard of heart! Yet won't you understand
What I reveal, nor do what I command?
Your gross, your carnal minds immers'd in Love
Of this low World, unfit for that above:
A hidden secret Sense my words imply,
Those who believe my words shall never die.
Nor this can their false prejudice prevent
Murm'ring, the giddy Croud from Jesus went;
153
In shoals as thick as they arriv'd before:
Almost alone himself our Lord did find
And none besides his chosen Twelve behind;
Then with a sigh which not from Pride did flow
But Pity, mildly asks—Will you too go?
When fervent Cephas thus, who scarce cou'd bear
So hard a thought—To whom dear Lord, or where?
Thou, endless Life on those who thee implore
Bestow'st, and is there any can give more?
We know thou must the true Messiah be,
Our Hopes, our Souls, are all repos'd on thee.
Agen with Sighs he did his sorrow show,
More you, he says, than you your selves I know:
Your Folly, and your Frailty I survey,
Your deepest thoughts as light and clear as day:
I know the wretch who will his Lord betray;
One of the Twelve I from the World did chuse
T'obey my Father, thence my Life I lose:
Soon will he with base Slanders me accuse,
Soon will the Fiend himself, a dreadful Guest
Seise for his own his avaritious breast.
We all with just concern and horror hear,
Each ey'd the next, but for himself did fear:
Why shou'd I strive to mention what in thought
I scarce cou'd track, each mighty VVonder wrought,
While in Caperna'ms fruitful Coasts he stay'd?
What crowds of Fiends his dread Commands obey'd?
What crowds of Men by Physicks feebler aid
Left desp'rate, by their Friends and selves giv'n o'r,
His healing touch or pow'rful Word restore?
With these, as oft as he occasion saw,
His perfect Doctrine mix'd and sacred Law:
Sometimes unveil'd relates, and sometimes tells
In moving Schemes and lively Parables:
Now do's some antient Prophesie explain,
And blames the hardness of their hearts in vain:
Then a false gloss from some true Text remove,
And teach the People what to hate and love.
All must not pass untold and some express'd,
You'll easier form a Notion of the rest.
I scarce cou'd track, each mighty VVonder wrought,
While in Caperna'ms fruitful Coasts he stay'd?
What crowds of Fiends his dread Commands obey'd?
What crowds of Men by Physicks feebler aid
Left desp'rate, by their Friends and selves giv'n o'r,
His healing touch or pow'rful Word restore?
With these, as oft as he occasion saw,
His perfect Doctrine mix'd and sacred Law:
Sometimes unveil'd relates, and sometimes tells
In moving Schemes and lively Parables:
Now do's some antient Prophesie explain,
And blames the hardness of their hearts in vain:
Then a false gloss from some true Text remove,
And teach the People what to hate and love.
All must not pass untold and some express'd,
154
As chanc'd, (with us 'twas Chance, with him Design)
Where at the Feast he Water chang'd to Wine
Returning from the Pasch a while we stay'd
Nor there we long our Residence had made
E'r thither posting from Capern'um came
A rich and pow'rful Lord, Chuza his Name;
Herod's high Steward he, and did beside
O'r all the upper Galilee preside,
Who when Youth spurr'd to pleasure and excess
Himself did of th' Herodian Sect profess:
Worse ev'n than Sadduces, tho' near the same;
Virtue they only thought an empty Name;
All Good and Bad designing Statesmens Rules,
And Heav'n and Hell but Tales to frighten fools:
What wonder then, if madly they employ
Their thoughtless hours in lewd voluptuous Joy?
If each some new delight each day contrives
And to their Genius sacrifice their Lives?
Among the rest too long young Chuza staid
In the luxurious Court, too long betray'd
By Vices wiles, and Pleasures flatt'ring Charms,
Who claspt him close in their soft treach'rous Arms.
Till riper years the dang'rous Cheat reveal'd
And Judgment shew'd what Passion had conceal'd:
To Business now, e'r 'twas too late, grown wise,
Once his Aversion, he himself applies:
One secret Cause which with success did move
To such a happy Change was virtuous Love:
The bright Joanna she that caus'd his Flame,
Who ev'n in such a Court preserv'd her Fame:
Almost her looks with Virtue them inspir'd
Her Mind and Lovely Form alike admir'd:
Of a just stature and Majestic meen,
With sweetness, in the great, but rarely seen:
She like an Angel look'd, and liv'd, and sung;
Virtue that fill'd her Breast inspir'd her tongue:
Her oft with transport had young Chuza ey'd,
Well-born and Fair, without one spark of pride:
He saw and lov'd, and won her for his Bride;
With wise Susanna then, whose pious care
Had form'd her tender Mind, did soon prepare
His Treasure from the dang'rous Court to bear:
So her desire; and sought a blest retreat
At his Hereditary Country Seat,
Near fair Capern'ums Walls; nor long they went,
E'er Heav'n a joyful Heir to Chuza sent;
Who now beneath a Feavers mortal rage,
One Lustre hardly past of his short Age,
Lay struggling, all sad signs of death appear
T'his frighted Parents, both half dead with fear;
Whilst his sad Mother weeping o'er him stood,
With quick uneven stroaks the poison'd blood
Did thro' his throbbing Veins small Flood-gates roll,
And beat a march to the departing Soul:
Black his chapt Tongue, earthy his Breath and short,
Unnatural motions his quick Eyes distort;
Little Convulsions in each part appear,
He catches swift at every Object near.
When Art was pos'd, and him they yielded lost,
They heard that thro' the Galilean Coast
Our Lord was seen returning, who they knew
By his Allmighty Word cou'd all things do:
Away the Father posts, more swift than death,
For Cana, or for lofty Nazareth;
And vow'd, if he his Son restor'd receive,
He'd the next hour with all his house believe.
When near small Jephthael's streams our Lord he found,
Quitting his Chariot, prostrate on the Ground
He lowly adores, and begs, if not too late,
T'Reverse his only Son's untimely Fate.
Our Lord who knew, tho' far remov'd, his Vow,
Who best knows when to help, and where, and how,
Resolv'd his Patience and his Faith to try,
He'd his Request nor grant, nor yet deny:
But turning to the Crowd his radiant Face
His Followers thus accosts—O harden'd Race!
How far shall Infidelity proceed?
How long will you these signs and wonders need?
How long shall stubborn Sense 'gainst Faith rebell?
Why will you not be sav'd without a Miracle?
Th' impatient Father cou'd no longer stay
But interrupts—“The Case bears no delay:
Tho' to the Town we back like Jehu drive
We hardly now shall find the Child alive:
To whom our Saviour this kind Answer gives
Disturb thy self and me no more—He lives
With Faith and Joy his Chariot he ascends
And back his course to rich Capern'um bends,
The officious Servants meet him at the Gate
With the glad News—Tho' their glad News too late:
What he well knew, they all in Transport tell
His Son was on the sudden strangely well;
He, whom giv'n o'er as lost, they lately mourn'd,
His health, nay e'en his strength agen return'd:
Careful he asks, exact, the time, the hour
When first they did observe the Feavers power
Abated—they the easie Question soon
Resolve, 'twas when the Sun was past his Noon,
The Day before,—'Twas then, he Ravish'd, cries,
Lifting to Heav'n his grateful Hands and Eyes,
Precisely then the mighty Prophets Word
Declar'd my Son was from the Grave restor'd!
Beauteous Joanna heard with Tears of Joy,
And in her hand she led the smiling Boy;
Him safe and well to his pleas'd Father shows,
About his neck his little arms he throws,
And welcom'd home, with pretty folly said
—What e'er the Servants told, he was not dead!
Lab'ring with Thanks the noble Chuza now
T'his Family declares his sacred Vow:
All freely grant he cou'd perform no less,
And Jesus the Messia all confess!
Nor long e'er thither with our Lord we went,
Whose Fame did his Arrival still prevent.
The news of his approach was soon aloud
Proclaim'd, the doors, the streets, the roads they crowd
With half dead Patients, by his Touch restor'd
Or Look, or Word, they kneel'd and him ador'd:
A brave Centurion there among the rest
By Proxy humbly his desire exprest;
Whose Word, the Roman Garrison that lay
To bridle hot Capern'um's Youth, obey;
The Cause, a Servant he from Rome had brought,
Whom justly dear for his deserts he thought
Whom many a painful day he faithful found,
And many a night spent on the frozen Ground:
Full Thirty hard Campaigns he had endur'd,
To Southern Heats, and Pontick Snows inur'd:
But when his Fiftith Winter now did wear,
His Age feels what his Youth with ease cou'd bear:
Afflictive Cramps his stubborn Sinews bend,
Which stronger in a deadly Palsey end:
Helpless he more than half a carcass lay;
A lump of cold disanimated Clay.
All his right-side, his left but little less,
And only his strong Vitals Life confess:
Vast Sums in vain for his recovery spent,
What Nature cou'd produce or Art invent
His Master try'd, first to the Bathes he sent,
Near where Calirrhoe's Sov'raign Waters fall
By Lasha's Brook, and strong Macheru's Wall:
When these no alteration on him make,
Him next the King's Physicians undertake;
A tedious Course prescribe his health to gain,
But they too find their boasted Art's in vain:
No humane help did now untry'd remain,
His generous Master did his Fate deplore,
And kindly sigh'd that he cou'd do no more:
A Servant whom such Faith and Love commend
He justly thought a less familiar Friend;
“Valiant and true, he him had often try'd,
“No danger ever made him leave his side;
“Nor gold cou'd tempt his Secrets to betray,
“Nor knew he his own Worth too well t'obey:
When now all humane Remedies were vain
He seeks Divine, for only those remain:
“With ill-directed Pray'rs devoutly made
To his own Æsculapius flies for Aid;
Vows he'd a Cock and greater Presents give
T'enrich his Fane, if his lov'd Servant live:
But the poor Marble Idol was not near,
Or else too busie, or too dull to hear;
His Vow's in vain, his Servant desp'rate grew;
When some who of our Lord's Arrival knew
Came panting in, the welcom News to bear,
Persuading him to seek for Succor there:
He rose and vow'd, if him our Lord wou'd hear
He all his helpless Gods wou'd strait cashier:
Not Mars himself shou'd stay—Long since his Mind,
Tho' weak, had been to Truths blest Laws inclin'd:
He lov'd our Nation, their Devotion prais'd,
And a fair Synagogue his noble Bounty rais'd:
Thus fix'd, his Servant, he'd have fain convey'd
Abroad, and at the Feet of Jesus laid,
But 'twas too late, he's gasping thick for Breath,
And struggling in the agonies of Death:
Yet durst he not himself to Jesus go,
His Thoughts were of himself too mean and low;
But ah! he rightly did not Jesus know:
None for their Merits e'er did with him stay,
None for Humility he turns away:
Jairus for him, and other Friends implore
That he his much lov'd Servant wou'd restore:
He yields, and kindly to the house repair'd,
Of whose approach when the Centurion heard,
No, 'tis too much he cries—It must not be!
Too much to go one single step for me.
Tho' he e'en a lost Gentile not disdain,
Unworthy him those Walls to entertain!
All I desire he'd do, which well he may,
Since Hand-maid Nature must her Lord obey,
(As me my Soldiers under Discipline,
Observant of each beck and secret sign,
Nay hardly dare in Thought my Will controul;)
Is, that he'd speak the Word and make him whole.
Pleas'd with his noble Faith our Lord looks round,
The like in his own Israel never found,
Aloud professing, nor were they alone
Design'd Assessors on th' Almighty Throne:
Who fear and serve him with a perfect mind
In every Nation shou'd acceptance find;
And while lost Israel's Sons expect in vain,
In bliss with all the holy Patriarchs reign.
But Faith like this what is there can withstand?
'Twill e'en Omnipotence it self command:
Bid the brave Man return, his grant is seal'd,
And e'en this moment his lov'd Servant heal'd:
—He said, 'tis done, he ease and strength receives,
His Master, he, and all the house believes.
Where at the Feast he Water chang'd to Wine
Returning from the Pasch a while we stay'd
Nor there we long our Residence had made
E'r thither posting from Capern'um came
A rich and pow'rful Lord, Chuza his Name;
Herod's high Steward he, and did beside
O'r all the upper Galilee preside,
Who when Youth spurr'd to pleasure and excess
Himself did of th' Herodian Sect profess:
Worse ev'n than Sadduces, tho' near the same;
Virtue they only thought an empty Name;
All Good and Bad designing Statesmens Rules,
And Heav'n and Hell but Tales to frighten fools:
What wonder then, if madly they employ
Their thoughtless hours in lewd voluptuous Joy?
If each some new delight each day contrives
And to their Genius sacrifice their Lives?
Among the rest too long young Chuza staid
In the luxurious Court, too long betray'd
By Vices wiles, and Pleasures flatt'ring Charms,
Who claspt him close in their soft treach'rous Arms.
Till riper years the dang'rous Cheat reveal'd
And Judgment shew'd what Passion had conceal'd:
To Business now, e'r 'twas too late, grown wise,
Once his Aversion, he himself applies:
One secret Cause which with success did move
To such a happy Change was virtuous Love:
The bright Joanna she that caus'd his Flame,
Who ev'n in such a Court preserv'd her Fame:
Almost her looks with Virtue them inspir'd
Her Mind and Lovely Form alike admir'd:
Of a just stature and Majestic meen,
With sweetness, in the great, but rarely seen:
She like an Angel look'd, and liv'd, and sung;
Virtue that fill'd her Breast inspir'd her tongue:
Her oft with transport had young Chuza ey'd,
Well-born and Fair, without one spark of pride:
He saw and lov'd, and won her for his Bride;
155
Had form'd her tender Mind, did soon prepare
His Treasure from the dang'rous Court to bear:
So her desire; and sought a blest retreat
At his Hereditary Country Seat,
Near fair Capern'ums Walls; nor long they went,
E'er Heav'n a joyful Heir to Chuza sent;
Who now beneath a Feavers mortal rage,
One Lustre hardly past of his short Age,
Lay struggling, all sad signs of death appear
T'his frighted Parents, both half dead with fear;
Whilst his sad Mother weeping o'er him stood,
With quick uneven stroaks the poison'd blood
Did thro' his throbbing Veins small Flood-gates roll,
And beat a march to the departing Soul:
Black his chapt Tongue, earthy his Breath and short,
Unnatural motions his quick Eyes distort;
Little Convulsions in each part appear,
He catches swift at every Object near.
When Art was pos'd, and him they yielded lost,
They heard that thro' the Galilean Coast
Our Lord was seen returning, who they knew
By his Allmighty Word cou'd all things do:
Away the Father posts, more swift than death,
For Cana, or for lofty Nazareth;
And vow'd, if he his Son restor'd receive,
He'd the next hour with all his house believe.
When near small Jephthael's streams our Lord he found,
Quitting his Chariot, prostrate on the Ground
He lowly adores, and begs, if not too late,
T'Reverse his only Son's untimely Fate.
Our Lord who knew, tho' far remov'd, his Vow,
Who best knows when to help, and where, and how,
Resolv'd his Patience and his Faith to try,
He'd his Request nor grant, nor yet deny:
But turning to the Crowd his radiant Face
His Followers thus accosts—O harden'd Race!
How far shall Infidelity proceed?
How long will you these signs and wonders need?
How long shall stubborn Sense 'gainst Faith rebell?
156
Th' impatient Father cou'd no longer stay
But interrupts—“The Case bears no delay:
Tho' to the Town we back like Jehu drive
We hardly now shall find the Child alive:
To whom our Saviour this kind Answer gives
Disturb thy self and me no more—He lives
With Faith and Joy his Chariot he ascends
And back his course to rich Capern'um bends,
The officious Servants meet him at the Gate
With the glad News—Tho' their glad News too late:
What he well knew, they all in Transport tell
His Son was on the sudden strangely well;
He, whom giv'n o'er as lost, they lately mourn'd,
His health, nay e'en his strength agen return'd:
Careful he asks, exact, the time, the hour
When first they did observe the Feavers power
Abated—they the easie Question soon
Resolve, 'twas when the Sun was past his Noon,
The Day before,—'Twas then, he Ravish'd, cries,
Lifting to Heav'n his grateful Hands and Eyes,
Precisely then the mighty Prophets Word
Declar'd my Son was from the Grave restor'd!
Beauteous Joanna heard with Tears of Joy,
And in her hand she led the smiling Boy;
Him safe and well to his pleas'd Father shows,
About his neck his little arms he throws,
And welcom'd home, with pretty folly said
—What e'er the Servants told, he was not dead!
Lab'ring with Thanks the noble Chuza now
T'his Family declares his sacred Vow:
All freely grant he cou'd perform no less,
And Jesus the Messia all confess!
Nor long e'er thither with our Lord we went,
Whose Fame did his Arrival still prevent.
The news of his approach was soon aloud
Proclaim'd, the doors, the streets, the roads they crowd
With half dead Patients, by his Touch restor'd
Or Look, or Word, they kneel'd and him ador'd:
A brave Centurion there among the rest
157
Whose Word, the Roman Garrison that lay
To bridle hot Capern'um's Youth, obey;
The Cause, a Servant he from Rome had brought,
Whom justly dear for his deserts he thought
Whom many a painful day he faithful found,
And many a night spent on the frozen Ground:
Full Thirty hard Campaigns he had endur'd,
To Southern Heats, and Pontick Snows inur'd:
But when his Fiftith Winter now did wear,
His Age feels what his Youth with ease cou'd bear:
Afflictive Cramps his stubborn Sinews bend,
Which stronger in a deadly Palsey end:
Helpless he more than half a carcass lay;
A lump of cold disanimated Clay.
All his right-side, his left but little less,
And only his strong Vitals Life confess:
Vast Sums in vain for his recovery spent,
What Nature cou'd produce or Art invent
His Master try'd, first to the Bathes he sent,
Near where Calirrhoe's Sov'raign Waters fall
By Lasha's Brook, and strong Macheru's Wall:
When these no alteration on him make,
Him next the King's Physicians undertake;
A tedious Course prescribe his health to gain,
But they too find their boasted Art's in vain:
No humane help did now untry'd remain,
His generous Master did his Fate deplore,
And kindly sigh'd that he cou'd do no more:
A Servant whom such Faith and Love commend
He justly thought a less familiar Friend;
“Valiant and true, he him had often try'd,
“No danger ever made him leave his side;
“Nor gold cou'd tempt his Secrets to betray,
“Nor knew he his own Worth too well t'obey:
When now all humane Remedies were vain
He seeks Divine, for only those remain:
“With ill-directed Pray'rs devoutly made
To his own Æsculapius flies for Aid;
Vows he'd a Cock and greater Presents give
158
But the poor Marble Idol was not near,
Or else too busie, or too dull to hear;
His Vow's in vain, his Servant desp'rate grew;
When some who of our Lord's Arrival knew
Came panting in, the welcom News to bear,
Persuading him to seek for Succor there:
He rose and vow'd, if him our Lord wou'd hear
He all his helpless Gods wou'd strait cashier:
Not Mars himself shou'd stay—Long since his Mind,
Tho' weak, had been to Truths blest Laws inclin'd:
He lov'd our Nation, their Devotion prais'd,
And a fair Synagogue his noble Bounty rais'd:
Thus fix'd, his Servant, he'd have fain convey'd
Abroad, and at the Feet of Jesus laid,
But 'twas too late, he's gasping thick for Breath,
And struggling in the agonies of Death:
Yet durst he not himself to Jesus go,
His Thoughts were of himself too mean and low;
But ah! he rightly did not Jesus know:
None for their Merits e'er did with him stay,
None for Humility he turns away:
Jairus for him, and other Friends implore
That he his much lov'd Servant wou'd restore:
He yields, and kindly to the house repair'd,
Of whose approach when the Centurion heard,
No, 'tis too much he cries—It must not be!
Too much to go one single step for me.
Tho' he e'en a lost Gentile not disdain,
Unworthy him those Walls to entertain!
All I desire he'd do, which well he may,
Since Hand-maid Nature must her Lord obey,
(As me my Soldiers under Discipline,
Observant of each beck and secret sign,
Nay hardly dare in Thought my Will controul;)
Is, that he'd speak the Word and make him whole.
Pleas'd with his noble Faith our Lord looks round,
The like in his own Israel never found,
Aloud professing, nor were they alone
Design'd Assessors on th' Almighty Throne:
159
In every Nation shou'd acceptance find;
And while lost Israel's Sons expect in vain,
In bliss with all the holy Patriarchs reign.
But Faith like this what is there can withstand?
'Twill e'en Omnipotence it self command:
Bid the brave Man return, his grant is seal'd,
And e'en this moment his lov'd Servant heal'd:
—He said, 'tis done, he ease and strength receives,
His Master, he, and all the house believes.
In vain I all his Wonders wou'd relate,
How many rescu'd from the brink of Fate:
How with a Touch he Simon's Mother rais'd:
How him the joyful Paralytic prais'd:
How, Jairus! thy Daughter he restor'd;
Tho' dead she heard, tho' dead obey'd his Word.
What Virtues e'en his sacred Robes diffus'd;
How by th' ungrateful Nazarites abus'd
He vanish'd thro' the crowd, they beat the Air,
Nor ever since his Presence blest 'em there.
What wond'rous Truths he did the Woman tell
In curst Samaria's Fields by Jacob's Well:
How many long of their dear sight bereav'd,
Earthly and Heav'nly Light at once receiv'd:
This all Bethsaida's wond'ring confines know,
And this thy Gates, delightful Jericho!
E'en yet old Bartimeus lives, who there
Did many a doleful year in darkness wear;
To which yet still a heavier plague was joyn'd,
He's miserably poor, e'en worse than blind:
His head with reverend baldness doubly bare,
Expos'd to all th' Inclemencies oth' Air,
To heat and cold—Methinks I see him there!
Or in the Gate I see him begging lie,
Or at the lovely Balsom-Gardens nigh:
Once as it chanc'd our Master passing by
Vast multitudes attending, he admir'd
The Cause, and earnest what it meant enquir'd,
For he their noise and trampling feet cou'd hear,
And well he knew some mighty Concourse near:
Nor sooner to the Blind was Jesus nam'd
But he with Faith and holy Hope enflam'd,
(For oft he heard what Miracles he'd done)
Exclaims—O mercy! mercy! David's Son!
Some bid be still! some cry to take him thence,
Nor let him with his loud Impertinence
Disturb our Lord, nor will he yet give o'er,
But cries more loud and earnest than before,
Great Son of David! let me mercy find!
O shew thy wonted pity on the Blind!
—None e'er deny'd or sad from Jesus part,
His earnest Pray'rs soon reach'd his ears and heart,
And till he's call'd he wou'd no further go;
Soon did th' old man the joyful Tidings know
From those about him, soon he cheerful rose,
Away his Staff and ragged Garment throws;
His Garment lest it might impeach his speed,
His Staff, which he shou'd now no longer need:
Away he runs, nor for a guide wou'd stay,
Following the Voice, oft stumbling in the way,
Of whom when near arriv'd, our Lord inquir'd
What Boon with such loud outcries he desir'd?
Lord! thou canst do't, he with large Tears replies,
And thou alone, restore me my dear eyes!
—'Tis thy victorious Faith directs thee right,
Well pleas'd our Lord rejoyns,—Receive thy sight!
'Tis said, 'tis done, a thick and churlish skin
Which stop'd the windows of his Soul within,
Flew off, nor did he ought that's painful find,
Like Cobwebs loose, unravel'd with the Wind,
He saw, his Saviour with loud Thanks did meet,
Embrac'd his knees, and prostrate kiss'd his feet.
How many rescu'd from the brink of Fate:
How with a Touch he Simon's Mother rais'd:
How him the joyful Paralytic prais'd:
How, Jairus! thy Daughter he restor'd;
Tho' dead she heard, tho' dead obey'd his Word.
What Virtues e'en his sacred Robes diffus'd;
How by th' ungrateful Nazarites abus'd
He vanish'd thro' the crowd, they beat the Air,
Nor ever since his Presence blest 'em there.
What wond'rous Truths he did the Woman tell
In curst Samaria's Fields by Jacob's Well:
How many long of their dear sight bereav'd,
Earthly and Heav'nly Light at once receiv'd:
This all Bethsaida's wond'ring confines know,
And this thy Gates, delightful Jericho!
E'en yet old Bartimeus lives, who there
Did many a doleful year in darkness wear;
To which yet still a heavier plague was joyn'd,
He's miserably poor, e'en worse than blind:
His head with reverend baldness doubly bare,
Expos'd to all th' Inclemencies oth' Air,
To heat and cold—Methinks I see him there!
Or in the Gate I see him begging lie,
Or at the lovely Balsom-Gardens nigh:
Once as it chanc'd our Master passing by
Vast multitudes attending, he admir'd
The Cause, and earnest what it meant enquir'd,
For he their noise and trampling feet cou'd hear,
And well he knew some mighty Concourse near:
160
But he with Faith and holy Hope enflam'd,
(For oft he heard what Miracles he'd done)
Exclaims—O mercy! mercy! David's Son!
Some bid be still! some cry to take him thence,
Nor let him with his loud Impertinence
Disturb our Lord, nor will he yet give o'er,
But cries more loud and earnest than before,
Great Son of David! let me mercy find!
O shew thy wonted pity on the Blind!
—None e'er deny'd or sad from Jesus part,
His earnest Pray'rs soon reach'd his ears and heart,
And till he's call'd he wou'd no further go;
Soon did th' old man the joyful Tidings know
From those about him, soon he cheerful rose,
Away his Staff and ragged Garment throws;
His Garment lest it might impeach his speed,
His Staff, which he shou'd now no longer need:
Away he runs, nor for a guide wou'd stay,
Following the Voice, oft stumbling in the way,
Of whom when near arriv'd, our Lord inquir'd
What Boon with such loud outcries he desir'd?
Lord! thou canst do't, he with large Tears replies,
And thou alone, restore me my dear eyes!
—'Tis thy victorious Faith directs thee right,
Well pleas'd our Lord rejoyns,—Receive thy sight!
'Tis said, 'tis done, a thick and churlish skin
Which stop'd the windows of his Soul within,
Flew off, nor did he ought that's painful find,
Like Cobwebs loose, unravel'd with the Wind,
He saw, his Saviour with loud Thanks did meet,
Embrac'd his knees, and prostrate kiss'd his feet.
Nor need I, Fathers! wast the day to tell
Those Wonders all the City know so well:
The blasted Fig-tree, which you yet may see
Without the Walls, i'th' way to Bethany,
Him who at Silo'm's streams receiv'd his sight,
Nor ever saw, till then, the cheerful light;
Where, after their exactest scrutiny,
No fraud the angry Sanhedrim cou'd see.
Him who so long at fam'd Bethesda lay,
Beyond the Angels Cure, sent heal'd away
By' our Saviour's pow'rful Word, whom harden'd still
For that good work the Jews attempt to kill:
Those Wonders all the City know so well:
The blasted Fig-tree, which you yet may see
Without the Walls, i'th' way to Bethany,
Him who at Silo'm's streams receiv'd his sight,
Nor ever saw, till then, the cheerful light;
Where, after their exactest scrutiny,
No fraud the angry Sanhedrim cou'd see.
161
Beyond the Angels Cure, sent heal'd away
By' our Saviour's pow'rful Word, whom harden'd still
For that good work the Jews attempt to kill:
Too well, says Joseph, I their Envy know,
At him whom height of Virtue makes their Foe:
Much I rememb'ring learnt from what he taught,
Witness of many a mighty Action wrought;
But few have scap'd me here; my self I saw
With what just anger and majestick awe
He did his Father's House the Temple cleanse,
And chas'd the Sacrilegious Merchants thence.
I saw too, when our captious Elders brought
Th' Adultress in the very Action caught;
Whence them he self-condemn'd and blushing sent,
And clear'd the fair convicted Penitent.
But of this Miracle I only knew
By Fame, and glad wou'd learn the Truth from you.
At him whom height of Virtue makes their Foe:
Much I rememb'ring learnt from what he taught,
Witness of many a mighty Action wrought;
But few have scap'd me here; my self I saw
With what just anger and majestick awe
He did his Father's House the Temple cleanse,
And chas'd the Sacrilegious Merchants thence.
I saw too, when our captious Elders brought
Th' Adultress in the very Action caught;
Whence them he self-condemn'd and blushing sent,
And clear'd the fair convicted Penitent.
But of this Miracle I only knew
By Fame, and glad wou'd learn the Truth from you.
'Twas at the famous Pool, well known to all
Jerusalem, that Heav'nly Hospital
Where every injur'd Sense a Cure may find,
The Deaf, the Blasted, Palsy'd, Lame and Blind;
Here, says the Apostle, at the Sun's first rise,
While they present the Morning-Sacrifice,
You know from Heav'n some courteous Angel brings
Unfailing Cures beneath his healing Wings
To such as to the Water first descend,
You know too him who did so long attend,
Who Blasted in his tender Youth, had stay'd
Almost six weeks of years expecting Aid:
In vain expecting, weak and Bed-rid laid,
Whence others, readier, still stept in before,
Till disappointed oft, he hop'd no more;
His only Comfort now was in Despair,
With speed to end his Life and Torments there:
Our Saviour saw, and asks, his Faith to try,
If for his pain he wish'd a remedy?
Yes, Death, said he, with unconcern'd neglect,
Nor any other ease must I expect:
The rich crowd in, and meet a speedy Cure,
Tho' e'en an Angel will not help the poor:
But that will I, our Saviour, kind, replies,
And bids him in his Fathers Name Arise!
Arise and Walk, and thence his Couch convey!
His blasted Limbs their Makers Word obey;
Vigorous and strong he in a moment grows,
His Blood thro' its forgotten channels flows;
All o'er himself he views, but do's so strange
T'himself appear, he scarce believes the change.
Jerusalem, that Heav'nly Hospital
Where every injur'd Sense a Cure may find,
The Deaf, the Blasted, Palsy'd, Lame and Blind;
Here, says the Apostle, at the Sun's first rise,
While they present the Morning-Sacrifice,
You know from Heav'n some courteous Angel brings
Unfailing Cures beneath his healing Wings
To such as to the Water first descend,
You know too him who did so long attend,
Who Blasted in his tender Youth, had stay'd
Almost six weeks of years expecting Aid:
In vain expecting, weak and Bed-rid laid,
Whence others, readier, still stept in before,
Till disappointed oft, he hop'd no more;
His only Comfort now was in Despair,
With speed to end his Life and Torments there:
Our Saviour saw, and asks, his Faith to try,
If for his pain he wish'd a remedy?
Yes, Death, said he, with unconcern'd neglect,
Nor any other ease must I expect:
The rich crowd in, and meet a speedy Cure,
162
But that will I, our Saviour, kind, replies,
And bids him in his Fathers Name Arise!
Arise and Walk, and thence his Couch convey!
His blasted Limbs their Makers Word obey;
Vigorous and strong he in a moment grows,
His Blood thro' its forgotten channels flows;
All o'er himself he views, but do's so strange
T'himself appear, he scarce believes the change.
Such Acts, such Crimes as these, if Crimes they be
Have made our Sanhedrim his Enemy:
True, on the Sabbath he this Wonder wrought,
And has against their vain Traditions taught,
But sure those Works for which him Heav'n did send
To this bad World, can never Heav'n offend.
All Holy Works of Charity confest,
Nor do's from them e'en his great Father rest;
Nor do's he old Traditions blame but where
With Laws divine they clash or interfere!
For never man so meek, so good, so kind;
All Love himself, all Love b' his Laws enjoyn'd:
Compassion, Alms, Forgiveness oft he prest,
And a good Life, true Faith's unfailing Test,
These the fair Terms on which he Pardon gave,
“He came his People from their sins to save.
This did he oft his crowding Audience tell,
Now plain, now in some lively Parable,
As ancient Seers us'd—And, but I fear
Already I've too long detain'd you here,
Some of the Cheif, I, Fathers! wou'd recite,
Equally yielding profit and delight:
Almost they're angry at so short a stay;
All, all, they ask, impatient of delay.
Th' Apostle thus—Then gladly I'll relate
The Prodigals Return, the Misers Fate:
The Lord who with his Servant did contend,
His Cruelty, and just tho' dreadful end;
The Widdow and the Judge did God nor Man
Regard, the Pharisee and Publican:
Have made our Sanhedrim his Enemy:
True, on the Sabbath he this Wonder wrought,
And has against their vain Traditions taught,
But sure those Works for which him Heav'n did send
To this bad World, can never Heav'n offend.
All Holy Works of Charity confest,
Nor do's from them e'en his great Father rest;
Nor do's he old Traditions blame but where
With Laws divine they clash or interfere!
For never man so meek, so good, so kind;
All Love himself, all Love b' his Laws enjoyn'd:
Compassion, Alms, Forgiveness oft he prest,
And a good Life, true Faith's unfailing Test,
These the fair Terms on which he Pardon gave,
“He came his People from their sins to save.
This did he oft his crowding Audience tell,
Now plain, now in some lively Parable,
As ancient Seers us'd—And, but I fear
Already I've too long detain'd you here,
Some of the Cheif, I, Fathers! wou'd recite,
Equally yielding profit and delight:
Almost they're angry at so short a stay;
All, all, they ask, impatient of delay.
Th' Apostle thus—Then gladly I'll relate
The Prodigals Return, the Misers Fate:
The Lord who with his Servant did contend,
His Cruelty, and just tho' dreadful end;
The Widdow and the Judge did God nor Man
Regard, the Pharisee and Publican:
To prove we ought repeated Pray'rs to make
At Gods high Throne, and no denyal take
This Parable did our lov'd Lord declare,
—A Judge there was, no matter when or where:
Neither on Honour he or Conscience stood,
Grown fat with Bribes, and Orphans Tears, and Blood:
A Widdow near him h'had long since bereft
Of her lov'd Lord, and poor and friendless left:
Whom a vexatious Neighbour us'd to wrong,
No help she had besides her Tears and Tongue;
No Oyly Advocate her Gold cou'd bribe
To espouse her Cause, no subtle smooth Tongu'd Scribe:
What shou'd she do, worse mischief to prevent?
E'en to the wicked Judge himself she went;
And with loud Outcries close besieg'd his door,
With long Petitions begs he'd help the poor!
There did she everlasting Centry keep,
Nor wou'd in quiet let him eat or sleep:
In vain's the threat'n'd Lash, as much in vain
His Servants drag her thence, she comes again:
If in his Robes he to the Bench repair,
Or pays a Visit, or but takes the Air
'Tis still the same, she haunts him every where.
Attends him like his shade, go where he will,
And worries him with Justice, Justice still!
He grievs, he rages, fumes and swears in vain
Sweats, stamps, and rails, she still comes on again.
What's to be done, when he by chance got breath!
Was ever Judge before thus talk'd to death,
T'himself he cries—Altho' I neither care
For Man, nor God himself, much less for her,
Her for my own sake I must right, or she,
As many I have done, will murder me:
Good Woman say—What is't that you require?
She ask'd, he gave her all her hearts desire;
Punish'd her Foe, and then, and not before
She rais'd her siege and left his Lordships door.
163
This Parable did our lov'd Lord declare,
—A Judge there was, no matter when or where:
Neither on Honour he or Conscience stood,
Grown fat with Bribes, and Orphans Tears, and Blood:
A Widdow near him h'had long since bereft
Of her lov'd Lord, and poor and friendless left:
Whom a vexatious Neighbour us'd to wrong,
No help she had besides her Tears and Tongue;
No Oyly Advocate her Gold cou'd bribe
To espouse her Cause, no subtle smooth Tongu'd Scribe:
What shou'd she do, worse mischief to prevent?
E'en to the wicked Judge himself she went;
And with loud Outcries close besieg'd his door,
With long Petitions begs he'd help the poor!
There did she everlasting Centry keep,
Nor wou'd in quiet let him eat or sleep:
In vain's the threat'n'd Lash, as much in vain
His Servants drag her thence, she comes again:
If in his Robes he to the Bench repair,
Or pays a Visit, or but takes the Air
'Tis still the same, she haunts him every where.
Attends him like his shade, go where he will,
And worries him with Justice, Justice still!
He grievs, he rages, fumes and swears in vain
Sweats, stamps, and rails, she still comes on again.
What's to be done, when he by chance got breath!
Was ever Judge before thus talk'd to death,
T'himself he cries—Altho' I neither care
For Man, nor God himself, much less for her,
Her for my own sake I must right, or she,
As many I have done, will murder me:
Good Woman say—What is't that you require?
She ask'd, he gave her all her hearts desire;
Punish'd her Foe, and then, and not before
She rais'd her siege and left his Lordships door.
The moral easie is, and plain in view;
If Importunity so much can do
E'en with the worst of men, if that can sway
The Great, and all but Gold it self outweigh;
If here so strong, it will not less avail
In Heav'ns high-Court, nor there of answer fail:
Nor that th' Almighty Judge above can e'r
As those below be tyr'd with mortal Pray'r;
But tho' he's always prone and free to give,
Man is not fit the Blessing to receive
Till his unweary'd Faith to Heav'n aspire,
And help with ardent humble Vows desire.
Then will he aid, for he can aid alone
Those injur'd Souls who under th' Altar groan;
Justice aloud their guiltless Blood demands;
Close by th' All-high full charg'd his Thunder stands:
“Vengeance has lead'n feet, but iron hands.
Vengeance is Gods, his Wisdom us secures
It cannot but be just; be mercy yours!
If you'd of Heav'n no such requital have
As that bad Servant whom his Lord forgave.
We beg to hear 't, which thus he did relate.
If Importunity so much can do
E'en with the worst of men, if that can sway
The Great, and all but Gold it self outweigh;
164
In Heav'ns high-Court, nor there of answer fail:
Nor that th' Almighty Judge above can e'r
As those below be tyr'd with mortal Pray'r;
But tho' he's always prone and free to give,
Man is not fit the Blessing to receive
Till his unweary'd Faith to Heav'n aspire,
And help with ardent humble Vows desire.
Then will he aid, for he can aid alone
Those injur'd Souls who under th' Altar groan;
Justice aloud their guiltless Blood demands;
Close by th' All-high full charg'd his Thunder stands:
“Vengeance has lead'n feet, but iron hands.
Vengeance is Gods, his Wisdom us secures
It cannot but be just; be mercy yours!
If you'd of Heav'n no such requital have
As that bad Servant whom his Lord forgave.
We beg to hear 't, which thus he did relate.
A Lord of mighty Wealth, and vast Estate
Ten thousand Talents to his Servant lent,
Which either he in Luxury mispent,
Or lost by negligence—As on a day
His Lord by chance did his Accounts survey
And found he neither Int'rest wou'd pay,
Nor Principal, he strait the whole demands,
Nor longer will he trust it in his Hands;
Speechless and pale th' insolvent Servant stands;
Trembling with Guilt and Fear; his Lord displeas'd
Gives order, he and all his House be seiz'd:
Low at his Feet the miserable fell
And a short respite begs—His all he'd sell
All his Estate, and his Friends bounty try,
Rather than in abhorr'd confinement die:
Nor his Petition unsuccessful prov'd
His Words, and Tears his gen'rous Master mov'd.
Nor wou'd he seize his House, nor him enslave,
But frankly all the mighty Sum forgave:
Thence went th' ungrate, his Fellow-servant met,
A hundred Pence was all his trifling Debt:
Yet grasps him by the Throat, with furious Hands,
And every mite immediately demands:
Trembling and pale he at his Feet did fall,
Begs but a little Time he'd pay him all.
Ev'n that deny'd he's into th' Dungeon thrown:
Whose Fate when to his Fellow-servants known,
Themselves concern'd lest they his Fate shou'd share,
They to their Lord th' unpleasing Tidings bear,
For him, enrag'd, he the next moment sent,
And thus, arriv'd, did his just anger vent.
—O worst of Wickeds! cruel and ungrate!
Did I forgive so vast a Sum so late
And is't so soon forgot? such pity shewn
To thee Distress'd, hast thou for others none?
Guards! without Pity drag him hence, and bear,
Repriev'd no more, to th' Executioner.
Slav'ry's too little now; him scourge and bind
That owns so much a worse than servile Mind:
Ten thousand Talents to his Servant lent,
Which either he in Luxury mispent,
Or lost by negligence—As on a day
His Lord by chance did his Accounts survey
And found he neither Int'rest wou'd pay,
Nor Principal, he strait the whole demands,
Nor longer will he trust it in his Hands;
Speechless and pale th' insolvent Servant stands;
Trembling with Guilt and Fear; his Lord displeas'd
Gives order, he and all his House be seiz'd:
Low at his Feet the miserable fell
And a short respite begs—His all he'd sell
All his Estate, and his Friends bounty try,
Rather than in abhorr'd confinement die:
Nor his Petition unsuccessful prov'd
His Words, and Tears his gen'rous Master mov'd.
Nor wou'd he seize his House, nor him enslave,
But frankly all the mighty Sum forgave:
Thence went th' ungrate, his Fellow-servant met,
A hundred Pence was all his trifling Debt:
Yet grasps him by the Throat, with furious Hands,
165
Trembling and pale he at his Feet did fall,
Begs but a little Time he'd pay him all.
Ev'n that deny'd he's into th' Dungeon thrown:
Whose Fate when to his Fellow-servants known,
Themselves concern'd lest they his Fate shou'd share,
They to their Lord th' unpleasing Tidings bear,
For him, enrag'd, he the next moment sent,
And thus, arriv'd, did his just anger vent.
—O worst of Wickeds! cruel and ungrate!
Did I forgive so vast a Sum so late
And is't so soon forgot? such pity shewn
To thee Distress'd, hast thou for others none?
Guards! without Pity drag him hence, and bear,
Repriev'd no more, to th' Executioner.
Slav'ry's too little now; him scourge and bind
That owns so much a worse than servile Mind:
So justly will my heavenly Father do,
So will severely be reveng'd on you,
Unless you, as becomes my Foll'wers, live;
And from the heart your Brother you forgive.
Why can you not this Worlds vain Goods contemn?
Why are they Lords of you while you of them?
On those if all your happiness depend
You must expect the cheated Misers end:
Who scarce himself his countless Treasures knew,
Scarce ever all his own Demeans did view;
On ev'ry side cou'd lose his wilder'd Eye;
Scarce o'r one half a panting Kite cou'd fly,
But short of midway rest.—
His Bags, his Chests so full, they both ran o'r,
His Barns so full, long since they'd hold no more,
High close-pil'd Stacks, besides his Granaries
In ev'ry corner of his yard he sees.
Let the poor curse! he hopes 'twill be more dear,
Nor will one handful sell till the next year:
Press'd with thick clay, and sunk in worldly care,
He none for his neglected Soul can spare:
Or fondly thinks, he that might always please
With sordid VVealth, or dull voluptuous Ease:
For this considers deep what course to take,
Resolves new Houses and new Barns to make:
Pull down, says he, those Hovels rais'd before;
Here's not half-room for my increasing store,
And add me twenty Bays of building more!
Let's treat the moments kindly while they stay!
I'll ev'n enjoy my self, and live to day:
Sure I've enough, nor need a Famine fear,
Enough for many a long voluptuous year!
—He said, when the same hour his Fate is seal'd,
Which in loud Thunder thus the All-high reveal'd:
Ah fool, who fondly dost thy self deceive!
Nor one day more is thine lost wretch! to live!
Another cheerful Sun thou ne'r shalt see,
This very Night the Fiends shall seize on thee:
Then whose shall all thy boasted Treasures be?
Hence for your Souls be studious whilst you may;
Intend their safety while 'tis call'd to Day!
They'll ask your utmost diligence and care
To root out Vice, and plant each Virtue there:
And all this done; to save the Heav'n-born Soul
An humble modesty must crown the whole:
Pride's the most dang'rous, and the last mistake,
Of Saints as well as Angels, Fiends 'twill make:
The best you do needs an attoning Friend;
Despise not others, nor your selves commend,
To fix this Truth more deeply, yet attend
And hear a Parable!—Two Men there were
Who to the Temple went one morn to Pray'r,
A Pharisee and Publican; the first
Who t'other scorn'd, the proudest and the worst:
What dost thou here, he cries, thy Pray'r's in vain:
Touch not my holy Robes—Stand off profane;
With stately steps then to the Altar goes,
And thus, erect, tells Heav'n how much it ows:
—O Israels God! aloud I praise thy Name
For such a Life as Envy cannot blame:
That there shou'd such a Gulph, such Diff'rence be
Betwixt th' ungodly carnal World and me:
That no man e'r I've wrong'd by Force or guile,
Or ever did my Neighbor's Bed defile:
Unblameable my Life by God or Man;
Not like that reprobated Publican!
Each week I set apart two days as thine,
Which almost equal makes thy Time and mine.
Nor am of those whose wicked boast 'twou'd be
Of rightful Tithes to wrong thy Priests and thee;
If ought from thence they gain, triumphing more
Than all their less belov'd Lay-Cheats before:
Not the least Herb which in thy Garden grows,
Not the least Gain which from my Labor flows,
Nought Tithe-free made by Custom or Design:
E'r I dare ever touch the other Nine
I separate the sacred Tenth as thine.
So will severely be reveng'd on you,
Unless you, as becomes my Foll'wers, live;
And from the heart your Brother you forgive.
Why can you not this Worlds vain Goods contemn?
Why are they Lords of you while you of them?
On those if all your happiness depend
You must expect the cheated Misers end:
Who scarce himself his countless Treasures knew,
Scarce ever all his own Demeans did view;
On ev'ry side cou'd lose his wilder'd Eye;
Scarce o'r one half a panting Kite cou'd fly,
But short of midway rest.—
His Bags, his Chests so full, they both ran o'r,
His Barns so full, long since they'd hold no more,
High close-pil'd Stacks, besides his Granaries
In ev'ry corner of his yard he sees.
Let the poor curse! he hopes 'twill be more dear,
Nor will one handful sell till the next year:
Press'd with thick clay, and sunk in worldly care,
He none for his neglected Soul can spare:
Or fondly thinks, he that might always please
With sordid VVealth, or dull voluptuous Ease:
166
Resolves new Houses and new Barns to make:
Pull down, says he, those Hovels rais'd before;
Here's not half-room for my increasing store,
And add me twenty Bays of building more!
Let's treat the moments kindly while they stay!
I'll ev'n enjoy my self, and live to day:
Sure I've enough, nor need a Famine fear,
Enough for many a long voluptuous year!
—He said, when the same hour his Fate is seal'd,
Which in loud Thunder thus the All-high reveal'd:
Ah fool, who fondly dost thy self deceive!
Nor one day more is thine lost wretch! to live!
Another cheerful Sun thou ne'r shalt see,
This very Night the Fiends shall seize on thee:
Then whose shall all thy boasted Treasures be?
Hence for your Souls be studious whilst you may;
Intend their safety while 'tis call'd to Day!
They'll ask your utmost diligence and care
To root out Vice, and plant each Virtue there:
And all this done; to save the Heav'n-born Soul
An humble modesty must crown the whole:
Pride's the most dang'rous, and the last mistake,
Of Saints as well as Angels, Fiends 'twill make:
The best you do needs an attoning Friend;
Despise not others, nor your selves commend,
To fix this Truth more deeply, yet attend
And hear a Parable!—Two Men there were
Who to the Temple went one morn to Pray'r,
A Pharisee and Publican; the first
Who t'other scorn'd, the proudest and the worst:
What dost thou here, he cries, thy Pray'r's in vain:
Touch not my holy Robes—Stand off profane;
With stately steps then to the Altar goes,
And thus, erect, tells Heav'n how much it ows:
—O Israels God! aloud I praise thy Name
For such a Life as Envy cannot blame:
That there shou'd such a Gulph, such Diff'rence be
Betwixt th' ungodly carnal World and me:
That no man e'r I've wrong'd by Force or guile,
167
Unblameable my Life by God or Man;
Not like that reprobated Publican!
Each week I set apart two days as thine,
Which almost equal makes thy Time and mine.
Nor am of those whose wicked boast 'twou'd be
Of rightful Tithes to wrong thy Priests and thee;
If ought from thence they gain, triumphing more
Than all their less belov'd Lay-Cheats before:
Not the least Herb which in thy Garden grows,
Not the least Gain which from my Labor flows,
Nought Tithe-free made by Custom or Design:
E'r I dare ever touch the other Nine
I separate the sacred Tenth as thine.
Thus he, with Voice articulate and clear,
Then round him looks in hopes that some did hear:
While thus i'th' outer Court the Publican
With Voice and Eyes submiss to Heav'n began.
Then round him looks in hopes that some did hear:
While thus i'th' outer Court the Publican
With Voice and Eyes submiss to Heav'n began.
O searcher of all Hearts who know'st me best!
I'm an unworthy Sinner, 'tis confest:
Father of mercy! Mercy I implore
For Sins are past, and Grace to Sin no more!
This humble self-condemning Penitent
Answer'd and pardon'd from the Temple went:
The Pharisee returns as he came in,
Or more confirm'd in Vanity and Sin.
I'm an unworthy Sinner, 'tis confest:
Father of mercy! Mercy I implore
For Sins are past, and Grace to Sin no more!
This humble self-condemning Penitent
Answer'd and pardon'd from the Temple went:
The Pharisee returns as he came in,
Or more confirm'd in Vanity and Sin.
These he, and many more; but most of all
That of the poor returning Prodigal
Deep fix'd I still retain—
And were not Day well wasted—Wast no more
Gamaliel says, more earnest than before
To hear the rest, while Nicodemus cries
Those only wast the Day who lost in Vice
The sliding Hours profusely misemploy
In short-liv'd pleasures and voluptuous Joy:
Who while the sliding Hours fly swift away
Fondly themselves beguile, and not the Day:
But who like us their happy moments past
'Tis they, they onl' of Life have a true tast,
They use their Time, which others only wast.
But pray proceed, those Parables recite
Which mix Instruction with so much Delight.
Slip not one word or passage careless o'r,
Believe we long to hear it all and more.
That of the poor returning Prodigal
Deep fix'd I still retain—
And were not Day well wasted—Wast no more
Gamaliel says, more earnest than before
To hear the rest, while Nicodemus cries
Those only wast the Day who lost in Vice
The sliding Hours profusely misemploy
In short-liv'd pleasures and voluptuous Joy:
Who while the sliding Hours fly swift away
Fondly themselves beguile, and not the Day:
But who like us their happy moments past
'Tis they, they onl' of Life have a true tast,
They use their Time, which others only wast.
168
Which mix Instruction with so much Delight.
Slip not one word or passage careless o'r,
Believe we long to hear it all and more.
Then thus the younger Son of Zebedee:
Since yet I find I shall not tedious be
At large I'll every Circumstance relate,
In the young Prodigal's strange happy Fate:
Since yet I find I shall not tedious be
At large I'll every Circumstance relate,
In the young Prodigal's strange happy Fate:
A good old Sire there was, whom Age and Cares
Had blest with Wealth and crown'd with silver Hairs:
Two Sons he had, his ages Prop and Pride
Who at his Death must all his Wealth divide:
The Elder grave and “careful of the main,
Enur'd to earn his Bread with sweat and pain;
Not so the younger, whom profuse and vain
His careful Father long with anxious mind
To lewdness and ill Courses found inclin'd:
He hated Work, but if a Wake or Fair
In many a Mile, he'd never fail b'ing there:
Above his business he, too great and wise;
Did long the sordid Country Dirt despise:
What car'd he tho' th' Old man did chide and frown,
So he for a few Days but saw the Town?
Oft he flew out, and prodigally spent
His own allowance and his Fathers rent;
In vain he, prudent, every Method tries,
To make him quit each darling dang'rous Vice;
Oft begs with delug'd Cheeks and flowing Eyes,
He wou'd from what must prove his ruin, part;
What wou'd he gain to break a Fathers heart?
Inexorably lewd he stops his Ears
Against his Words, or laughs at what he hears:
And thus ungracious answers—If he fears
To see his ruine, give him but his share
He'd strait be gone, nor longer cause his care.
With Hopes he might in time grow wise agen,
If trav'ling far he manners saw and men,
The Father grants his wish, his Portion gives
Lib'ral and large, which he o'rjoy'd receives;
To this his Mother adds (her darling, He,)
Gold, which before the Sun did never see,
But rusting close remain'd for many Years;
With these both give their Blessings and their Tears;
Tho' neither did he, Graceless, much regard,
But thought th' old Folks, that trouble might have spar'd:
To bid 'em both Farewel, he scarce cou'd stay,
But to some forein Region speeds away:
Thither arriv'd, rich, young, prophane and gay,
Resolves to tast what e'er the World can give,
And to the height of lawless Pleasure live:
In Masks and Balls, in Gaming, Treats and Plays,
In Mirth and Wine, he spent his thoughtless Days;
Wit, Beauty, Musick, all the World can boast,
Their Forces joyn, and they're a pow'rful Host,
To Charm him theirs.—How did he now despise
His old, his doating Fathers grave advice!
His Brother, who still drudg'd for sordid Pelf!
And how applaud his wise and happy self!
Thus liv'd he till his Bags, exhaustless thought
At first, to their low desp'rate Ebb were brought:
And worse, when thence the last slow Drop h'had drain'd,
O'er all those Realms a dreadful Famine reign'd:
His Trencher-Friends now no Relief afford,
But drive him from their Houses and their Board:
One only who more Kindness had profess'd,
And whom h'had more oblig'd than all the rest,
Him entertains, first by himself did seat,
Soon after bids him with his Servants eat;
Till by degrees he lower did proceed,
And sends him to the Fields his Swine to feed:
With them he lives, like them, or worse he fares,
For his allowance narr'wer far than theirs:
On Acorns they, or Wildings richly dine,
He sighing sits, and envy's e'en the Swine;
Tho' Hunger gnaws, he wisely did refuse
To steal from them, lest he his Place shou'd lose:
In this sad Posture when himself he found,
Cold, naked, hungry, fainting on the Ground;
Pleasures false mists from his deluded Eyes
Remov'd, he views himself, and inward—Sighs;
Recalls to mind how vast the Gulf, between
What now he was, and what he once had been:
How oft his Fathers Plenty he despis'd,
When to his Lust his Wealth he sacrific'd:
Then thus, his long despairing Silence broke,
With trickling Tears, and deep-fetch'd Sighs, he spoke:
—Ah Wretch! who didst thy Fathers House despise!
Ah hapless Youth! unwary and unwise!
Whilst here for Want, I perish in despair,
And only think of Plenty reigning there:
Nor dare I from his Table ought desire;
That Bread which those partake, who serve for hire
My utmost Wish, and thither gladly, I
Wou'd now return tho' at his Feet to die;
At least if mine have strength enough, I'll try
To bear me on—With much of Pain he rose,
And by short Journies, homeward feebly goes;
Of his unhop'd return his Father hears,
Up starts the rev'rend Sire with joyful Tears;
And do's far off in hast to meet him go,
Love wings his Feet, his Age no longer slow:
See how they meet! How tenderly embrace!
What different Passions reign in eithers Face!
Here, with Compassion mixt, is painted fair,
Ingenuous Love, Ingenuous Shame dwells there.
Surpriz'd he shou'd such kind Reception meet,
The Son falls trembling at his Fathers Feet:
Where thus—O Father! If you not disclaim
That long abus'd, that dear, tho' injur'd Name;
If 'tis not yet too late my Crimes to grieve,
If either Heav'n or You can yet forgive:
Tho' I to a Sons Honour may'nt aspire,
That Title lost, O let me serve for Hire!
So may I oft enjoy the envy'd Grace,
E'en tho' he Frown, to see a Fathers Face:
Nothing to this, o'erjoy'd, th' old Man replies,
Or if he speaks, 'tis only with his Eyes:
Nothing to him, but to his Servants there,
Gives Order they his Festal Robes prepare;
Which brought, he in the richest and the best,
With his own Hands, did his lov'd Son invest:
With this his Signet from his Finger gave,
A mark of Honour, he no more a Slave:
Then bids a plenteous Feast that Night prepare,
And call his Friends, so just a Joy to share:
They crowding came, and the blest Moments spent,
In temp'rate Joy, and harmless Merriment;
In Songs which Heav'n it self did erst inspire,
And Seraphs sing to David's royal Lyre:
In modest Dances, no Dishonour thought,
When th' Ark of God to beauteous Zion brought.
The sober Glass with sparkling Gaza crown'd,
Grateful to God and Man, walks slow and cheerful round:
Had blest with Wealth and crown'd with silver Hairs:
Two Sons he had, his ages Prop and Pride
Who at his Death must all his Wealth divide:
The Elder grave and “careful of the main,
Enur'd to earn his Bread with sweat and pain;
Not so the younger, whom profuse and vain
His careful Father long with anxious mind
To lewdness and ill Courses found inclin'd:
He hated Work, but if a Wake or Fair
In many a Mile, he'd never fail b'ing there:
Above his business he, too great and wise;
Did long the sordid Country Dirt despise:
What car'd he tho' th' Old man did chide and frown,
So he for a few Days but saw the Town?
Oft he flew out, and prodigally spent
His own allowance and his Fathers rent;
In vain he, prudent, every Method tries,
To make him quit each darling dang'rous Vice;
Oft begs with delug'd Cheeks and flowing Eyes,
He wou'd from what must prove his ruin, part;
What wou'd he gain to break a Fathers heart?
Inexorably lewd he stops his Ears
Against his Words, or laughs at what he hears:
And thus ungracious answers—If he fears
To see his ruine, give him but his share
He'd strait be gone, nor longer cause his care.
With Hopes he might in time grow wise agen,
If trav'ling far he manners saw and men,
The Father grants his wish, his Portion gives
Lib'ral and large, which he o'rjoy'd receives;
To this his Mother adds (her darling, He,)
169
But rusting close remain'd for many Years;
With these both give their Blessings and their Tears;
Tho' neither did he, Graceless, much regard,
But thought th' old Folks, that trouble might have spar'd:
To bid 'em both Farewel, he scarce cou'd stay,
But to some forein Region speeds away:
Thither arriv'd, rich, young, prophane and gay,
Resolves to tast what e'er the World can give,
And to the height of lawless Pleasure live:
In Masks and Balls, in Gaming, Treats and Plays,
In Mirth and Wine, he spent his thoughtless Days;
Wit, Beauty, Musick, all the World can boast,
Their Forces joyn, and they're a pow'rful Host,
To Charm him theirs.—How did he now despise
His old, his doating Fathers grave advice!
His Brother, who still drudg'd for sordid Pelf!
And how applaud his wise and happy self!
Thus liv'd he till his Bags, exhaustless thought
At first, to their low desp'rate Ebb were brought:
And worse, when thence the last slow Drop h'had drain'd,
O'er all those Realms a dreadful Famine reign'd:
His Trencher-Friends now no Relief afford,
But drive him from their Houses and their Board:
One only who more Kindness had profess'd,
And whom h'had more oblig'd than all the rest,
Him entertains, first by himself did seat,
Soon after bids him with his Servants eat;
Till by degrees he lower did proceed,
And sends him to the Fields his Swine to feed:
With them he lives, like them, or worse he fares,
For his allowance narr'wer far than theirs:
On Acorns they, or Wildings richly dine,
He sighing sits, and envy's e'en the Swine;
Tho' Hunger gnaws, he wisely did refuse
To steal from them, lest he his Place shou'd lose:
In this sad Posture when himself he found,
Cold, naked, hungry, fainting on the Ground;
Pleasures false mists from his deluded Eyes
Remov'd, he views himself, and inward—Sighs;
170
What now he was, and what he once had been:
How oft his Fathers Plenty he despis'd,
When to his Lust his Wealth he sacrific'd:
Then thus, his long despairing Silence broke,
With trickling Tears, and deep-fetch'd Sighs, he spoke:
—Ah Wretch! who didst thy Fathers House despise!
Ah hapless Youth! unwary and unwise!
Whilst here for Want, I perish in despair,
And only think of Plenty reigning there:
Nor dare I from his Table ought desire;
That Bread which those partake, who serve for hire
My utmost Wish, and thither gladly, I
Wou'd now return tho' at his Feet to die;
At least if mine have strength enough, I'll try
To bear me on—With much of Pain he rose,
And by short Journies, homeward feebly goes;
Of his unhop'd return his Father hears,
Up starts the rev'rend Sire with joyful Tears;
And do's far off in hast to meet him go,
Love wings his Feet, his Age no longer slow:
See how they meet! How tenderly embrace!
What different Passions reign in eithers Face!
Here, with Compassion mixt, is painted fair,
Ingenuous Love, Ingenuous Shame dwells there.
Surpriz'd he shou'd such kind Reception meet,
The Son falls trembling at his Fathers Feet:
Where thus—O Father! If you not disclaim
That long abus'd, that dear, tho' injur'd Name;
If 'tis not yet too late my Crimes to grieve,
If either Heav'n or You can yet forgive:
Tho' I to a Sons Honour may'nt aspire,
That Title lost, O let me serve for Hire!
So may I oft enjoy the envy'd Grace,
E'en tho' he Frown, to see a Fathers Face:
Nothing to this, o'erjoy'd, th' old Man replies,
Or if he speaks, 'tis only with his Eyes:
Nothing to him, but to his Servants there,
Gives Order they his Festal Robes prepare;
Which brought, he in the richest and the best,
171
With this his Signet from his Finger gave,
A mark of Honour, he no more a Slave:
Then bids a plenteous Feast that Night prepare,
And call his Friends, so just a Joy to share:
They crowding came, and the blest Moments spent,
In temp'rate Joy, and harmless Merriment;
In Songs which Heav'n it self did erst inspire,
And Seraphs sing to David's royal Lyre:
In modest Dances, no Dishonour thought,
When th' Ark of God to beauteous Zion brought.
The sober Glass with sparkling Gaza crown'd,
Grateful to God and Man, walks slow and cheerful round:
Mean while the Elder of the Sons, who now,
Night hasting on, came sweating from the Plough,
Much wonder'd when, the House approaching near,
He Light did see, and Songs and Musick hear;
The Cause inquir'd, a Servant thus replies,
With hast at once, and pleasure in his Eyes;
Your Brother whom so long as lost, we mourn'd,
In distant Lands, this Evening is return'd:
For his arrival all this Joy's exprest,
And only you are wanting at the Feast;
Where, with impatience you've expected been—
—Enrag'd the Brother, wou'd not enter in:
The Guests disturb'd, began to quit their Seats,
The Father comes, and mildly him intreats:
Still resolute and fierce without he stay'd,
And thus displeas'd did th' old Sire upbraid:
—How many a Year, still stupidly content,
Have I in your unthankful Service spent?
Slavishly dutiful I've with you stay'd,
Nor ever yet displeas'd or disobey'd;
Yet never cou'd I yet presented be,
With one small Kid t'oblige my Friends and me:
But when your hopeful Son, your Darling's come
From Stews and Brothels, stript and naked home;
For him has all this Feast and Rev'ling been:
Give me my Portion too!—I'll not come in.
—Agen the Father mildly thus replies,
Son! Why this Anger in your Words and Eyes?
Thou know'st I only thee my Heir design,
Wait a few Days, and all th' Estate is thine!
Why art thou Angry then, and Discontent,
At this small part upon thy Brother spent?
Why shou'd we not Rejoyce, when since his Birth,
There never yet has been such cause of Mirth?
Whom giv'n for dead, we strangely see revive,
Lost and despair'd, again receive alive.
Night hasting on, came sweating from the Plough,
Much wonder'd when, the House approaching near,
He Light did see, and Songs and Musick hear;
The Cause inquir'd, a Servant thus replies,
With hast at once, and pleasure in his Eyes;
Your Brother whom so long as lost, we mourn'd,
In distant Lands, this Evening is return'd:
For his arrival all this Joy's exprest,
And only you are wanting at the Feast;
Where, with impatience you've expected been—
—Enrag'd the Brother, wou'd not enter in:
The Guests disturb'd, began to quit their Seats,
The Father comes, and mildly him intreats:
Still resolute and fierce without he stay'd,
And thus displeas'd did th' old Sire upbraid:
—How many a Year, still stupidly content,
Have I in your unthankful Service spent?
Slavishly dutiful I've with you stay'd,
Nor ever yet displeas'd or disobey'd;
Yet never cou'd I yet presented be,
With one small Kid t'oblige my Friends and me:
But when your hopeful Son, your Darling's come
From Stews and Brothels, stript and naked home;
For him has all this Feast and Rev'ling been:
Give me my Portion too!—I'll not come in.
—Agen the Father mildly thus replies,
172
Thou know'st I only thee my Heir design,
Wait a few Days, and all th' Estate is thine!
Why art thou Angry then, and Discontent,
At this small part upon thy Brother spent?
Why shou'd we not Rejoyce, when since his Birth,
There never yet has been such cause of Mirth?
Whom giv'n for dead, we strangely see revive,
Lost and despair'd, again receive alive.
Scarce he the lively Parable did end,
When Chuza came, our Saviour's grateful Friend,
And wise Gamaliel's both, whose welcom Guest,
He often was at the great Paschal-Feast:
Enters with him the brave Centurion too,
Their Benefactor all our Nation knew:
The first Endearments past, when looking round,
Th' Apostles well-known Faces, Chuza found:
More pleas'd, he each Embrac'd, and tells 'em he,
Hop'd not to meet so much good Company:
I know, he adds, your blest Employment still,
Is to perform and teach your Master's Will:
I interrupted your Discourse, I fear,
Which none, than me, with greater Joy wou'd hear:
So much my self to that great Man I owe,
You'll highly Oblige me if his Truths you'll show,
Something I know, but more I wish to know:
Forgive me that I call'd him Man before!
For sure his Godlike Actions speak him more;
Around his Face mild Rays of Goodness Shine,
His Life and Laws confess him All-divine.
Say, you who happy in his Bosom lie,
If ought of this tremendous Mystery,
Ought, which from Vulgar Ears is yet conceal'd,
May be to us, your Trust still safe, reveal'd?
When Chuza came, our Saviour's grateful Friend,
And wise Gamaliel's both, whose welcom Guest,
He often was at the great Paschal-Feast:
Enters with him the brave Centurion too,
Their Benefactor all our Nation knew:
The first Endearments past, when looking round,
Th' Apostles well-known Faces, Chuza found:
More pleas'd, he each Embrac'd, and tells 'em he,
Hop'd not to meet so much good Company:
I know, he adds, your blest Employment still,
Is to perform and teach your Master's Will:
I interrupted your Discourse, I fear,
Which none, than me, with greater Joy wou'd hear:
So much my self to that great Man I owe,
You'll highly Oblige me if his Truths you'll show,
Something I know, but more I wish to know:
Forgive me that I call'd him Man before!
For sure his Godlike Actions speak him more;
Around his Face mild Rays of Goodness Shine,
His Life and Laws confess him All-divine.
Say, you who happy in his Bosom lie,
If ought of this tremendous Mystery,
Ought, which from Vulgar Ears is yet conceal'd,
May be to us, your Trust still safe, reveal'd?
Yes, Sir, the Son of Zebedee reply'd;
We from the harden'd Crowd some Truths must hide,
Till more prepar'd to hear 'em; but to you
Rank'd by our Lord among the favour'd few,
And these good Men, who tho' they much discern,
From our low Converse, not disdain to learn;
I'll speak, permitted, what from him I heard,
What he in Closet-Privacy declar'd;
What in my Breast th' unerring Spirit seals,
And by my acted Tongue to you reveals.
We from the harden'd Crowd some Truths must hide,
Till more prepar'd to hear 'em; but to you
Rank'd by our Lord among the favour'd few,
And these good Men, who tho' they much discern,
From our low Converse, not disdain to learn;
173
What he in Closet-Privacy declar'd;
What in my Breast th' unerring Spirit seals,
And by my acted Tongue to you reveals.
He said—But O! how vast a Change they spy?
What awful Grandeur sparkled in his Eye?
So Truth wou'd look, cou'd she a Body take,
And as like Truth he look'd, like Truth he spake:
Greater he seem'd, and something more than Man;
And thus our Saviour's happy Friend began.
What awful Grandeur sparkled in his Eye?
So Truth wou'd look, cou'd she a Body take,
And as like Truth he look'd, like Truth he spake:
Greater he seem'd, and something more than Man;
And thus our Saviour's happy Friend began.
The End of the Fifth Book.
| The Life of Our Blessed Lord & Saviour Jesus Christ | |