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 | Poems by Robert Gomersall |  |
72
You ought not to beare Armes against your foes:
VVho having cast off ordinary sense,
Affirme that they doe warre with Providence,
VVho providently warre, that they distrust
The powre, or care of heav'n, who will be just
To their owne cause, which you will noyse to be
A spice of wiser Infidelity.
To these I need no other answer find:
Shall we be foolish because heav'n is kind?
And when your industry might doe as well,
VVill ye inforce God to a Miracle?
It is a truth I grant, which you pretend
That God hath destin'd all things to their end,
Which stands immoveable: nor is't in Fate
To alter what he will præordinate:
Yet never any did so farre proceed
In folly, to affirme that he decreed
Onely the end, that was in Gods intents,
Whilest we did sleepe, to blesse us with events
We dreame not of: Such fondnes cannot find
Any excuse (unlesse they were design'd
Inevitably to't:) for I would know
(If they suppose it possible to shew
Their mind in these affaires, or if they be
Not hindred from an answer by Decree)
Why they doe eate; and why they doe not hence
Conclude rebellion against Providence;
Why they doe cloath themselves; and why desire
When cold oppresseth them to choose a fire;
Have you forgot that for his holy ones,
God can at ease produce e'ne out of stones
As solid sustenance? or is it lost
In your fraile memory, that when Israel crost
73
Nor Taylors they imploy'd, nor Shoomakers?
Trust me if you your selves thinke your selves true,
Your care does vilify Gods care of you;
And every dish that to your board is brought
Vpbraides him to his face, as if you sought
To mend his purpose; and by this odd feat,
You doe blaspheme as often as you eate.
| Poems by Robert Gomersall | |