Distressed Sion Relieved Or, The Garment of Praise for the Spirit of Heaviness. Wherein are Discovered the Grand Causes of the Churches Trouble and Misery under the late Dismal Dispensation. With a Compleat History of, and Lamentation for those Renowned Worthies that fell in England by Popish Rage and Cruelty, from the Year 1680 to 1688. Together with an Account of the late Admirable and Stupendious Providence which hath wrought such a sudden and Wonderful Deliverance for this Nation, and Gods Sion therein. Humbly Dedicated to their Present Majesties. By Benjamin Keach |
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To their Most Excellent Majesties William and Mary, by the Grace of God, King and Queen of England, &c.
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To their Most Excellent Majesties William and Mary, by the Grace of God, King and Queen of England, &c.
Dread Soveraigns,
May it please your MajestiesMost graciously to cast your Princely Eyes,
And to accept of this small worthless Mite,
From one, whose Soul's enamour'd with the sight
Of seeing you brought to Great Britains Throne,
Which Angels do delight to look upon.
Methinks I see the Cherubs clap their wings,
Singing sweet Anthems to the King of Kings,
That such a King and Queen are set on high,
In glorious Power and Soveraign Majesty.
No marvel 'tis, since by Angelick Power
You're both preserved to this happy hour.
For sure he's blind who can't discern most clear
'Twas by Heavens Conduct you were both brought here.
Such a stupendious Providence before
Was never known, and never may no more
Which fills our hearts with joy, & makes us smile
What a distressed and forlorn estate
Was this now glorious Kingdom in of late.
Poor England, alas! did bleeding lye,
For many years inslav'd by Tyranny.
And Sion too was in the same condition,
Weeping with bitter groans, and deep contrition.
Let me a little freely now dilate
Upon Great Britains miserable state:
When first on her you cast your Royal look,
And her Salvation likewise undertook,
A glorious Enterprize, which Heaven did bless
With such amazing and admir'd success.
Weeping with bitter groans, and deep contrition.
Let me a little freely now dilate
Upon Great Britains miserable state:
When first on her you cast your Royal look,
And her Salvation likewise undertook,
A glorious Enterprize, which Heaven did bless
With such amazing and admir'd success.
Sick, sick, as heart can hold, the Kingdom lies,
Filling each corner with her mournful cryes;
Sometimes she burns, as when a Fever heats;
Anon Despair brings cold and clammy sweats.
No rest she gains, or if she do, she dreams
Of Massacres, Fires, Blood, and direful Theams.
She no Physicians finds; Bold Empiricks,
Are from St. Omers sent, to try their tricks,
Who wicked crafty counsel take together,
To poyson her, 'twas this that brought them hither.
Nay hold (says Petre) we'l first let her blood;
That's fit for her, and will do us most good.
Her Blood's infected, so corrupt, I see,
Nought else can cure her Northern Heresie.
But let us first prescribe a Golden Pill
To ease her, that she may suspect no ill,
But may conclude we choice Physicians be;
The Pill that they prepar'd was Liberty;
Curiously gilt it was, and tasted well,
But when 'twas down she int' an Ague fell;
Then these State-Mountebanks do her assure
Jesuits-Powder will effect the cure.
Yet still she's sick, and seiz'd with stronger fits,
Which made most think these Drs. all were Cheats.
Their Physick was of such a composition,
It made the Body Politick in confusion;
And many evidently did foresee
'Twas to effect a direful Tragedy.
They did pretend to purge ill humours out,
That they their black Designs might bring about;
And th' evil humours which did lurking lie
In divers parts o'th' Body, grew thereby
More strong and vigorous, and did disturb
What nature did before so strongly curb,
That wise Physicians made this wise conclusion,
'Twould wholly change the Bodys constitution
From good to bad, from healthy, free, and sound,
Would cause malignant humours to abound.
Ill ones, no doubt, it was design'd to nourish,
Tho', for a while, some good ones it did cherish.
Thus may a Medicine, which is safe and good,
(As Liberty is, if rightly understood)
When ill prepared, and unduly given,
Prove dangerous as any under Heaven;
And pity 'tis this universal Pill,
That has wrought wonders, was design'd so ill.
Filling each corner with her mournful cryes;
Sometimes she burns, as when a Fever heats;
Anon Despair brings cold and clammy sweats.
No rest she gains, or if she do, she dreams
Of Massacres, Fires, Blood, and direful Theams.
She no Physicians finds; Bold Empiricks,
Are from St. Omers sent, to try their tricks,
Who wicked crafty counsel take together,
To poyson her, 'twas this that brought them hither.
Nay hold (says Petre) we'l first let her blood;
That's fit for her, and will do us most good.
Nought else can cure her Northern Heresie.
But let us first prescribe a Golden Pill
To ease her, that she may suspect no ill,
But may conclude we choice Physicians be;
The Pill that they prepar'd was Liberty;
Curiously gilt it was, and tasted well,
But when 'twas down she int' an Ague fell;
Then these State-Mountebanks do her assure
Jesuits-Powder will effect the cure.
Yet still she's sick, and seiz'd with stronger fits,
Which made most think these Drs. all were Cheats.
Their Physick was of such a composition,
It made the Body Politick in confusion;
And many evidently did foresee
'Twas to effect a direful Tragedy.
They did pretend to purge ill humours out,
That they their black Designs might bring about;
And th' evil humours which did lurking lie
In divers parts o'th' Body, grew thereby
More strong and vigorous, and did disturb
What nature did before so strongly curb,
That wise Physicians made this wise conclusion,
'Twould wholly change the Bodys constitution
From good to bad, from healthy, free, and sound,
Would cause malignant humours to abound.
Tho', for a while, some good ones it did cherish.
Thus may a Medicine, which is safe and good,
(As Liberty is, if rightly understood)
When ill prepared, and unduly given,
Prove dangerous as any under Heaven;
And pity 'tis this universal Pill,
That has wrought wonders, was design'd so ill.
But ah! what shall she do? th' Impostors Art
Her head doth poison, and corrupt her heart;
Must she, O must she die! O hear her groans!
Hear Sions too; O hearken how she moans!
There is no help but from the God of Wonder,
'Tis he alone that's able to bring under
This Foe to Nature, which is grown so strong,
And hath her vital parts opprest so long.
Her head doth poison, and corrupt her heart;
Must she, O must she die! O hear her groans!
Hear Sions too; O hearken how she moans!
There is no help but from the God of Wonder,
'Tis he alone that's able to bring under
This Foe to Nature, which is grown so strong,
And hath her vital parts opprest so long.
All her Physicians weep, and secretly
Were heard to say, poor England now must die,
Unless th' Almighty by his own right hand
Work Miracles to save our sinking Land.
But who's the Instrument will rise up for her?
Who is the Man whom God delights to honour,
To bring relief when all her hopes were gone?
Were heard to say, poor England now must die,
Unless th' Almighty by his own right hand
Work Miracles to save our sinking Land.
But who's the Instrument will rise up for her?
Who is the Man whom God delights to honour,
To bring relief when all her hopes were gone?
Great Sir, 'Twas you Jehovah fixt upon;
No sooner heard she your victorious Name,
But she reviv'd, and cheerful soon became:
But ah! the Winds were cross, this made us fear
We n're should have your long'd for presence here.
And when we heard you were upon the Seas,
Our hearts rejoyced, yet had not perfect ease;
We doubted still what dangers you might meet
In that most Glorious and Renowned Fleet,
Yet still our Prayers more fervent were and more
To see your Royal Person safe on shore:
And all the time in England you have been,
What strange amazing wonders have we seen?
A poor sick Land divided; by Christs power
Made whole and all united in an hour,
United so, as joyntly to combine
To own this just and glorious design.
O're us long hung a black and dismal Cloud,
From whence we fear'd a dreadful storm of blood;
Yet when it brake, nought but sweet dews distill,
This, this may sure our souls with wonder fill,
To see a Mighty Army rais'd by Rome,
Some flie for fear, and others Friends become,
To gain the Victory, yet never fight,
This plain appears Gods hand to all mens sight.
Poor Sion, who i'th' dust did prostrate lie,
Bewailing her approaching misery,
Began to rouse, and on her feet to stand,
When you upon the English Shore did land.
She long expected, in our Hemisphere
A glorious Star would certainly appear;
And now he's come, she can't forbear to sing,
With Joy to welcom her desired King;
And as the Sun, whose powerful reflection
Gives to all Vegetables a resurrection;
Even so Gods Witnesses now raised are,
Whose bodies lay like dead so lately here.
For though it was in the cold Winter time,
We saw so great a change in our sharp Clime
As made us cry, The Winter now is gone,
Your powerful Rays in this our Horizon,
Made Flowers bud as in the early Spring,
And chirping Birds melodiously to sing:
We heard the Turtles Voice too in our Land,
Such mighty Blessings, Thankfulness command;
Blessings which England never knew before,
For which the God of Heaven we should adore:
And since our Sun is risen, let him shine
Most gloriously in Rays which are Divine,
Like powerful Sol, whose Soul reviving Beams,
Whose warming nature and delightful gleams,
Send forth on all his powerful Influence,
So let him equally his warmth dispence.
No sooner heard she your victorious Name,
But she reviv'd, and cheerful soon became:
We n're should have your long'd for presence here.
And when we heard you were upon the Seas,
Our hearts rejoyced, yet had not perfect ease;
We doubted still what dangers you might meet
In that most Glorious and Renowned Fleet,
Yet still our Prayers more fervent were and more
To see your Royal Person safe on shore:
And all the time in England you have been,
What strange amazing wonders have we seen?
A poor sick Land divided; by Christs power
Made whole and all united in an hour,
United so, as joyntly to combine
To own this just and glorious design.
O're us long hung a black and dismal Cloud,
From whence we fear'd a dreadful storm of blood;
Yet when it brake, nought but sweet dews distill,
This, this may sure our souls with wonder fill,
To see a Mighty Army rais'd by Rome,
Some flie for fear, and others Friends become,
To gain the Victory, yet never fight,
This plain appears Gods hand to all mens sight.
Poor Sion, who i'th' dust did prostrate lie,
Bewailing her approaching misery,
Began to rouse, and on her feet to stand,
When you upon the English Shore did land.
A glorious Star would certainly appear;
And now he's come, she can't forbear to sing,
With Joy to welcom her desired King;
And as the Sun, whose powerful reflection
Gives to all Vegetables a resurrection;
Even so Gods Witnesses now raised are,
Whose bodies lay like dead so lately here.
For though it was in the cold Winter time,
We saw so great a change in our sharp Clime
As made us cry, The Winter now is gone,
Your powerful Rays in this our Horizon,
Made Flowers bud as in the early Spring,
And chirping Birds melodiously to sing:
We heard the Turtles Voice too in our Land,
Such mighty Blessings, Thankfulness command;
Blessings which England never knew before,
For which the God of Heaven we should adore:
And since our Sun is risen, let him shine
Most gloriously in Rays which are Divine,
Like powerful Sol, whose Soul reviving Beams,
Whose warming nature and delightful gleams,
Send forth on all his powerful Influence,
So let him equally his warmth dispence.
Nor can we fail of this our expectation,
It's like your self, 'tis like your Declaration,
You by some just sublime and sacred Arts
Are both become the King and Queen of hearts;
You there erect your Throne, 'tis there you reign,
Sure such a Kingdom always will remain.
Oh may our Sun never Eclipsed be,
Oh may he send his Beams from Sea to Sea,
And may he give an Universal Light,
That all dark Regions may receive their sight;
And may his strong attractive Power likewise
Dry up those nauseous sinks of sin that rise
And grow so rife, unto our Nations shame,
And high dishonour of Jehovah's Name:
May he his growing cherishing Beams display
Upon the Good and Virtuous, so that they
May all strive to exceed in fruitfulness,
And flourish like those Trees the Lord doth bless.
But let him, Lord, be a hot scorching Sun
To thy grand Foe, The Whore of Babylon:
Let him make all those noisom weeds to fade,
And lose the glory which they lately had,
So that the Flower de Luce may hang the head,
It is high time it quite were withered.
Let proud Tyrconnels heart now die away,
To hear who does Great Britains Scepter sway.
Let our Dear Soveraign send such powerful Darts
As may subdue the most rebellious hearts
Of Teagues and Tories in that mournful Land
O're which our Princes long have had command;
But let him be a healing Sun unto
His People, and their Differences subdue;
When Both have run their Race, Crown Both on high,
Among thy Saints to all Eternity.
It's like your self, 'tis like your Declaration,
Are both become the King and Queen of hearts;
You there erect your Throne, 'tis there you reign,
Sure such a Kingdom always will remain.
Oh may our Sun never Eclipsed be,
Oh may he send his Beams from Sea to Sea,
And may he give an Universal Light,
That all dark Regions may receive their sight;
And may his strong attractive Power likewise
Dry up those nauseous sinks of sin that rise
And grow so rife, unto our Nations shame,
And high dishonour of Jehovah's Name:
May he his growing cherishing Beams display
Upon the Good and Virtuous, so that they
May all strive to exceed in fruitfulness,
And flourish like those Trees the Lord doth bless.
But let him, Lord, be a hot scorching Sun
To thy grand Foe, The Whore of Babylon:
Let him make all those noisom weeds to fade,
And lose the glory which they lately had,
So that the Flower de Luce may hang the head,
It is high time it quite were withered.
Let proud Tyrconnels heart now die away,
To hear who does Great Britains Scepter sway.
Let our Dear Soveraign send such powerful Darts
As may subdue the most rebellious hearts
O're which our Princes long have had command;
But let him be a healing Sun unto
His People, and their Differences subdue;
When Both have run their Race, Crown Both on high,
Among thy Saints to all Eternity.
So prays your Majesties most humble and most obedient and truly Loyal Subject, Benj. Keach.
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