University of Virginia Library

By a Friend, in Commendation of these POEMS.

My Muse is dull, although I have a will,
This Book for to commend I want the skill.
I know not how it's worth for to declare,
Few Poems may, doubtless, with it compare;
Not for rare elegant Scholastick strains,
Which flow alone from those quick-witted brains:
Who with their Rhetorick, and curious Art;
Strive to affect the Fancy, not the Heart,
This Treatise read (kind Friend) and thou shalt see,
'Tis chiefly fill'd with choice Divinity.
The Author soars on high, his main design,
Is to instruct that precious soul of thine.
I'th' path Cœlestial, shews thee very plain;
How thou in Christ an Int'rest may'st obtain.
Or, if in Christ thy soul has got a place,
He to thy joy, shews forth thy happy case.
This Poem's like a Messenger sent forth,
To give a visit to the drowzy Earth;
The slugish Soul it strives for to awake,
Before it drops into the Fiery Lake.
Ther's very few upon the Earth do live,
But brought from hence some benefit receive.
For though it is brought forth in this our Clime,
Yet 'twill agree with every place and time.
Its Message is of such a large extent,
It may in truth to all the World be sent:
To Male and Female, low and high degree,
He speaks a word to bond as well as free.
All, in whom Conscience dwells, he lets them see
Consciences great Pow'r and Authority.
When Heav'ns hot thunder-bolts with fire & hail,
Made Ægypts mighty Monarch's courage fail;
Conscience stept in, made him cry out amain,
The Lord is just; I, and my wicked train
Have sinn'd: Yea, Conscience also brings
Saul Son of Kish, the first of Israel's Kings,
Before the Prophet, humbly to confess
That he had sinn'd, and acted wickedness.
Conscience made David to cry out amain,
'Tis I have sinn'd, I have Uriah slain.
Though David slew a Lyon and a Bear,
And did not the great Gyants courage fear;
Yet Conscience made him stoop and tremble too:
And more than this you'l find Conscience can do.
Here's Counsel for Professors and Prophane,
Choose, or refuse, here's loss and also gain.
One Reason, Reader, of this Mode or Style,
Is, that it might with honest craft beguile
Such curious Fancies who had rather chose
To read ten lines in Verse, than one in Prose.
And as the nimble Fly, that lightly springs
Against the Flame, untill she burns her wings,
Is taken Captive with that sulph'rous flame,
VVith which she only sought to sport and game:
So whilst those curious fancies think to play
With this small piece, 'twill secretly betray
Them to their Conscience, and if Conscience send
Them to God's Word, the Author has his end.
Provided that unto the same they yeild,
And Grace and Conscience do obtain the field.

To the Reader, in Vindication of this Book.

One or two lines to thee, I'le here commend,
This honest POEM briefly to defend,
From Calumny, because that at this day,
All Poetry there's many do gain-say;
And very much condemn, as if the same,
Did worthily deserve, reproach and blame.
If any Book in Verse, they chance to spy,
A way Prophane, they presently do cry:
But though this kind of Writing, some dispraise,
Sith Men so captious are, in these our days;
Yet I dare say, how e're this scruple rose,
Verse hath expres'd, as sacred things as Prose.
Though some there be, that Poetry abuse,
Must we therefore, not the same method use?
Yea sure, for of Conscience it is the best,
And doth deserve, more Honour than the rest:
For 'tis no Humane knowledge gain'd by Art,
But rather 'tis inspir'd, into the Heart,
By Divine means, for true Divinity,
Hath with his Science, great Affinity:
Though some, through Ignorance, do it appose,
Many do it esteem, far more then Prose:
And find also that unto them it brings,
Content, and hath been the delight of Kings.
David, although a King, yet was a Poet,
and Solomon also, the Scriptures show it,
Then what if for all this some should abase it,
I'me apt to think the Angels do embrace it:
And though God giv't here but in part to some,
Saints shall hav't perfect in the World to come.

Youth in his unconverted State.

Youth.

Conscience.
Controul you, Sir! in truth and that dare I,
For your contempt of my Authority.
You tread on me without the least regard,
As if I worthy were not to be heard;
You strive to stifle me, and therefore I,
Am forc'd aloud, Murder, with speed to cry:
I can't forbear but must cry out amain,
Such is the wrong which from you I sustain.

Youth.
VVhat are you, Sir, you dare to be so bold?
I scorn by any He, to be controul'd.
E're I have done with you, I'le make you know,
You shall your power, and commission show.

Conscience.
Be not so hot, and you shall know my Name,
And also learn from whence my power came,
I'me no Usurper, yet I do Command,
You for to stop, and make a present stand.
Your pleasures you must leave, and Vitious Life,
Else there will grow, a very bitter strife;
'Tween you and I, as will apear anon,
If from these Courses you don't quickly turn.
For all your courage which you seem to take,
The news I bring's enough to make you quake.

Youth.
Who e're thou art, I'le make you by and by,
Confess you have accus'd me wrongfully.
From Murder I am clear, in thought and deed,
Thus be to charg'd, doth cause my heart to bleed;
Pray let me crave your Name, if you are free,
If you provoke me, worse 'twil quickly be;
You seek occasion, and are quarelsome,
And therefore 'tis, I do suppose you'r come.
But if your Name you don't declare to me,
I am resolv'd to be reveng'd on thee.

Consciene.
What violence (alas!) can you do more,
Than that which you have done to me before,
Forbear your threats, be still and hold your hand?
And quickly you shall know and understand,
My Name, my Power, and place of Residence,
Which may to you prove of great consequence.
I am a Servant to a Mighty King,
Who Rules, and Reigns, and Governs every thing;
Who keeps one Court above, and here below,
Another he doth keep, as you shall know,
O're this inferiour Court placed am I,
To Act and do, as his great Deputy.
I truly Judge, according to my Light,
Yea, and impartially do each Men right.
Those I condemn, who vile and guilty are,
And justifie the Holy and Sincere.
I order'd am, to watch continually,
O're all your Actions with a wary Eye:
And I have found how you, have of late time,
Committed many a bold, and horrid Crime,
Of Murder, Treason, and like Villany,
Against the Crown and glorious Dignity,
Of that great Prince from whence you have your breath,
Who's King & Ruler, over all the Earth.
I am his Judge, Attourney-General,
And have Commission also; you to call.
Unto the Barr, and make you to confess
Your horrid Crimes, and fearful guiltiness.
A Black Indictment I have drawn in truth,
Against thy self thou miserable Youth;
Thy Pride I shall abate, thy Pleasure mar,
And bring thee to confess with tears, at Barr,
Thy sports and Games, and youthful Lust to be,
Nought else but sin, and cursed Vanity.
And for to put thee also out of doubt;
My Mame is Conscience, which you bear about;
No other than th'accusing faculty
Of that dear Soul which in thy breast doth lye:
I by that Rule Mens thoughts and ways compare,
By which their inward parts enlightned are;
And as they do accord, or disagree,
I do accuse, or Clear immediately,
According to your Light you do not live,
But violate that Rule which God doth give
To you, to square your Life and Actions by;
From hence comes in your woe and misery.

Youth.
Conscience art thou? why did'st not speak e're now?
To mind what thou dost say, I can't tell how.
Thou melancholly Fancy, fly from me,
My Pleasures I'le not leave in spight of thee.
Other brave Guests, you see, to me are come,
And in my House for thee there is no room.
Dost think I will be check'd by silly thought,
And into snares my foolish Fancy brought?
Is't you which cry out Murder, only you?
A Fig (alas!) for all that you can do.
For though against me you do prate and preach,
Your very Neck I am resolv'd to stretch.
I'le swear, carouse, and whore, say what you will,
Till I have stifled you, and made you still.
I'le clip your Wings, and make you see at length,
I do know how to spoyl you of your strength.
When you do speak, I will not lend an ear;
I'le make (in truth) as if I did not hear.
If you speak loud when I am all alone,
I will rise up, and straightway will be gone
To the brave Boyes, who toss the Pot about;
And that's the way to wear your patience out.
I'le go to Playes, and Games, and Dancings too,
And e're a while, I shall be rid of you.

Conscience.
Thou stubborn foolish Youth be not so rash,
Lest e're you be a ware you seel my lash.
I have a sting, a whip yea and can bite,
Before you shall o'recome, I'le stoutly fight:
I'le gripe you sore, and make you howl anon,
If you resolve in sin still to go on.
I have o'recome strong hearts, & made them yield,
And so shall you before I quit the field,
Go where you will, be sure I'le soon come after,
And into sorrow, will I turn your laughter.
'Twill prove hard work for you, to shake me off,
Though you at me do seem, to jear and scoff,
As if o're you, I had no Jurisdiction,
Or was a Dream, a Fancy, or some Fiction:
For all your VVrath, I must you yet disturb,
Though you offended are, I can't but curb.
And snib you daily, as I oft have done,
Till you repent, and from lewd courses turn:
For, till the Case be taken quite a way,
Th'Effect will follow what e're you do or fray:
Unless your Light wholly extinguish'd be,
If sin remains disturbance you will see.
Therefore I do beseech you soberly,
For to submit to my Authority;
Obey my Voice, I prethee make a tryal,
Before you give another flat denyal.
If more sweet comfort I don't yield to you,
Than all which doth from sinful actions flow.
Then me reject; but otherwise, my Friend,
My Checks receive, and to my motions bend.
Get peace within what ever thou dost do,
And let vain pleasures and Corruptions go;
That will be better for thy soul at last,
Than Gold or Silver, or what else thou hast.
And since we are alone, let thee and I,
More mildly talk about Supremacy.
Is't best for you that pride and Folly reign,
Which nought doth bring save sorrow, shame and pain,
And Conscience to reject, who perfectly,
From guilt and bondage strives to set you free?
Have not these lusts by which thou now art led,
Brought many men unto a piece of Bread?
What brave Estates have some consum'd thereby
And now are forc'd in Barns on Straw to lye?
How has the Wife been ruin'd with the Child,
Besides poor Conscience grievously turmoyl'd?
Nay, once again, give ear, I prethee hark;
Han't many a brave and curious Spark,
Been brought in stinking Prisons there to lye,
For yielding to their Lust and Vanity?
How many swing at Tyburn every year,
For stabbing Conscience without care or fear?
And some also out of their wits do run,
And by that means are utterly undone:
Some men stifle me, I cannot speak,
And then they sport and play, and merry make;
Resolving that I shall not gripe them more,
But quickly then a fresh I make them roar.
Some of them I do drive into despair,
When in their face I do begin to stare;
No rest nor peace at all their Souls can find,
I so disturb and still perplex their mind.
What say you now, young-man, will you submit?
Weigh well the danger, and the benefit.
The danger on the one hand will be great,
If me you do oppose, and ill intreat.
Sweet profit comes, you see, on th'other hand
To such who subject are to my Command.
What dost thou say; shall I embraced be?
Or, wilt thou follow still thy Vanity?

Youth.
Was ever young-man thus perplex'd as I,
Who flourished in sweet prosperity?
VVhere e're I go, Conscience dogs me about,
No quiet I can have, in doors, nor out.
Conscience, what is the cause you make such strife,
I can't enjoy the comforts of my Life?
I am so grip'd, and pinched in my brest,
I know not where to go, nor where to rest.

Conscience.
Cause you have wronged and offended me,
Loving vain Pleasures, and Iniquity.
The Light you have, you walk not up unto,
You know 'tis evil, which you daily do.
My witness I must bear continually,
For the great God, whose glorious Majesty,
Did in thy Soul give me so high a place,
As for to stop you in your sinful race;
I must reprove, accuse, and you condemn,
Whilst you by sin, His Sov'raignty contemn:
I can't betray my trust, nor hold my peace,
Till I am stabbed, sear'd, or Light doth cease;
Till you your life amend, and sins forsake,
I shall pursue you, though your heart doth ake.

Youth.
How bold and malipert is Conscience grown!
Though I upon this Fellow daily frown;
And his Advice reject, yet still doth he,
Knock at my Door, as if he'd weary me.
Conscience I'le have you know in truth that I,
A Person am of some Authority:
Are you so saucy as to curb and chide,
Such a brave Spark, who can't your ways abide?
'Tis much below my Birth and Parentage,
And it agrees not with my present age;
For to give place to you, or to regard,
Those things from you, I have so often heard.

Conscience.
Alas, Proud flesh, dost think thy self too high,
To be subject to such a one as I?
Thy betters I continually gain-say,
If they my Motions don't with care obey.
My Power's great, and my Commission large,
There's scarce a Man, but I with folly charge.
The King and Peasant are alike to me,
I favour none of high or low degree:
If they offend, I in their faces fly,
Without regard or fear of standers-by.

Youth.
Speak not another word, don't you perceive
There's scarce a Man or Woman will believe
What you do say, you'r grown so out of date,
Be silent then and longer do not prate.
I'th' Country your credit is but small,
There's few care for your company at all:
The Husband-man the Landmark can't remove,
But you straitway him bitterly reprove:
Nor Plow a little of his Neighbours Land,
But you command him presently to stand.
There's not a Man can go i'th' least awry,
But out against him fiercely you do fly.
The People therefore now so weary are,
They've thrust you out almost of ev'ry Shire:
And in the City you so hated be,
There's very few care a rush for thee:
For if they should believe what you do say,
Their Pride and Bravery would soon decay,
Their swearing, cheating, and their drunkenness,
VVould vanish quite away, or grow much less.
Our craft of Profit and our Pleasure too,
VVould soon go down, and ruin'd be by you.
The whores and Bawds, with the Play-houses then
VVould be contemned by all sorts of Men.
You strive to spoil us of our sweet delight,
Our Pleasures you oppose with all your might.
The Fabrick of our Joy you would pull down,
And make our Youth just like a Country clown.
VVe half Phanaticks should be made ('tis clear)
If unto thee we once inclined were.
But this amongst the rest doth chear my heart,
There's very few in London take thy part.
Here and there one, which we Nick-names do give,
VVho hated are, and judg'd not fit to live.
'Tis out of fashion grown, I daily see,
Conscience for to regard i'th' least degree.
He that can't whore and swear without controul,
VVe do account to be a timerous Fool.
Therefore though you so desperately do fall
Upon poor me, yet I do hope I shall
Get loose from you, and then I'le tear the ground,
And in all joy and pleasure will abound.

Conscience.
Ah! poor deceived Soul! dost thou not know,
That most of all Mankind i'th' broad-way goe?
What though they do most wickedly abuse me?
VVilt thou also in the like manner use me?
VVhat though they will of me no warning take,
'Till they drop down into the Stygian Lake?
VVilt thou be-friend the cursed Serpent so,
As to go on till comes thy overthrow?
VVhat though I am in no request by them?
Don't they likewise God's holy VVord contemn?
Don't they the Gospel cast quite out of sight,
Lest from their Pleasures it should them affright?
What though my friends are tost about and hurl'd
Their inward peace is more than all the World
Can give to them, or from them take away,
Whilst they with diligence do me obey;
As I enlightned am by God's Precepts,
Which are a guide, and Lanthorn to my steps.
O come proud heart, and longer don't contend,
But leave thy Lust, and to my Scepter bend:
For I'le not leave thee, but with all my pow'r,
I'le follow thee, unto thy dying hour.

Youth.
Into some private place then I will fly,
Where I may hide my self, and secretly,
There, I'le enjoy my self, in spight of thee;
And thou shalt not i'th least know where I be.

Conscience.
Nay, foolish Youth, how can that thing be done,
From Conscience it is in vain to run;
No secret place can you find out or spy,
To hide your self from me, such is mine Eye;
I see i'th Dark, as well as in the Light,
No Doors nor Walls, will keep thee from my sight.
Where e're thou art, or goest, am I not near,
Thy Soul with horrid guilt, to scare and fear?
Could Cain, or Judas, get out of my reach,
When once between us, there was the like breach?
Did I not follow them unto the end,
And made them know what 'twas for to offend
My glorious Prince, and me his true Viceroy?
Vengeance doth follow them who US annoy.
My Counsel then I prethee take with speed,
For that's the way alone for to be freed
From Vengeance here, and Wrath also to come,
When thou dost dye, and at the day of Doom.

Youth.
What! can't I fly from thee, nor thee subdue?
Then I intreat thee, Conscience, don't pursue,
Nor follow me so close; forbear a while,
Don't yet my Beauty, nor my Pleasures spoil.
This is my Spring, and Flower of my Age,
Oh! pity me, and cease thy bitter rage:
Don't crop the tender bud, it is too green;
Oh! let me have those days others have seen.
Forbear thy hand, till my wild Oats are sown;
They must be ripe also before they'r mown.
Thou hast forborn with some for a long time,
That which I ask of thee is but the prime,
Of those good days which God bestows on me,
Oh! that it might but once obtained be!
'Tis time enough for to adhere to thee,
After I've spent my time in Gallantry;
In earths sweet joys, & such transcendent pleasures
Which young men do esteem the chiefest treasures.

Conscience.
After all violence and outrage great
Done to poor Conscience, do you now intreat?
Thinking for to prevail by flattery,
But that in truth I utterly defie:
'Tis quite against my Nature you must know,
Unto vile Lust fond pity for to show:
God has not given such a dispensation,
For me to wink at your abomination:
If God doth once but blow your Candle out,
I shall be quiet then you need not doubt:
(But woe to you as ever you were born,
If God doth once his Light to darkness turn.)
But while in you remains that legal Light,
Your Sins I can't endure in my sight.
No liberty God, I am sure, will give
To any one, in horrid Sin to live;
Nor will he give allowance for a day:
'Tis very dangerous for to delay
The work of thy Repentance for an hour.
What thy hand finds to do, do with thy pow'r.
If me you don't believe, I prethee, Youth,
For to resolve thy self, go to God's Truth.

Youth.
Well! since that you no comfort do afford,
I will enquire of God's most Holy Word:
So far I will your Counsel take, for I
Am sorely troubled, whither shall I fly?
I will make tryal, I resolve to see,
VVhether the Truth and Conscience do agree.
The lip of Truth can't lye, though Conscience may:
VVhen that misguided is, it leads astray.
If Truth and Conscience speak the self-same thing,
'Twill some amazement to my Spirit bring.
That now I ask for, and earnestly crave,
I's some short time in sin longer to have.
Conscience denyes it me: Truth, what say you?
Oh! that you would a little favour shew.
To a poor Lad, alas! I am but young,
Like to a Flower which is lately sprung
Out of the ground, and Conscience day and night,
Strives for to tread me down with all his might:
Or, as the Frost the tender bud doth spoyl;
So has he striven to do a great while.
Must I reform, and all my sins forsake?
Some fitter season then O let me take.
For all things there's a time under the Sun,
And when I older am, I will return.

Truth.
Nay, hold, vain Youth, you are mistaken now,
No time to sin God doth to thee allow.
If I may speak, attend, and you shall hear,
I with poor Conscience must my witness bear;
I am his Guide, his Rule, 'tis by my Light
He acts and does, and speaks the thing that's right.
You are undone, if you don't speedily
Leave all your sins, and cursed vanity.
Art thou too young thy evil ways to leave,
And yet hast thou a precious Soul to save?
Art thou too young to leave Iniquity,
VVhen old enough in Hell for sin to lye?
Some fitter season (Youth) dost think to find?
The Devil doth dart that into thy mind.
No time so fit, as when the Lord doth call;
Those who rebellious are, they one day shall
Smart bitterly for their most horrid evil,
In yielding to, and siding with the Devil.
But once again, I prethee hark to me;
Don't God, whilst thou art young, call unto thee?
Remember thy Creator therefore now,
And unto him with speed see you do bow.
The first ripe Fruit of old God did desire,
And so of thee likewise he doth require,
That thou to him a Sacrifice should'st give,
Of thy best days, and learn betimes to live,
Unto the praise of his most Holy Name;
And not by sin so to prophane the same.
This is (Young-man) also thy choosing time,
VVhilst thou therefore dost flourish in thy prime,
Place thou thy heart upon the Lord above;
And with Christ Jesus also fall in love.
Did not Jehovah give to thee thy breath,
And also place thee here upon the Earth;
And many precious blessings give to thee,
That thou to him alone should'st subject be?
God out of Bowels sent his precious Son,
Thy Soul from evil ways with speed to turn;
Who for thy sake was nailed to the Tree
To free thy Soul from Hell and misery.
And whilst in sin (vile wretch) thou dost remain,
Thou dost as, twere him Crucifie again:
Thy sins also (O Young-man) God doth hate,
His Soul doth loath, and them abominate;
Naught is more odious in his blessed sight,
Than those base Lusts in which thou tak'st delight.
And wilt thou not O Young-man! be deterr'd
From thy vain ways? what, is thy heart so hard?
Shall nothing move thy Soul for to repent,
Nor work Convictions in thee to relent?
Give ear to Truth, Truth never spoke a Lye,
And fly from Sin and youthful Vanity.
Those that do seek God's Kingdom first of all,
And do obey God's sweet and gracious Call;
They shall find Christ, and ly too in his breast,
And reap the comfort of Internal rest.
But if thou should'st this golden time neglect,
And all good motions utterly reject;
And slight the day of this thy Visitation;
That will to God be such a provocation,
That he'l not wait upon thee any more,
Nor never knock hereafter at thy door.
Whilst tearms of peace God doth therefore afford,
Subject to him, lest he doth draw his Sword.
If once to anger him you do provoke,
He'l break your bones, and wound you with his stroke:
Who can before his indignation stand,
Or, bear the weight of his revengeful hand?
How darest thou a War with him maintain,
And say o're thee Christ Jesus shall not Reign?
Wilt thou combine with his vile Enemy,
And yet presume on his sweet clemency?
Wilt thou, vile Traytor-like, contrive the death
Of that great King, from whom thou hast thy breath,
Wilt thou cast dirt upon the Holy One,
And keep Christ Jesus from his rightly Throne?
Is't not his right thy Conscience for to sway?
Ought he not there to Reign, and thou Obey?
Dar'st thou resist his dread and Soveraign Power?
Yea, or hold parley with him for an hour,
To gratifie the Devil, who thereby
Renews his strength, yea and doth fortifie
Himself in thee, and makes his Kingdom strong,
By tempting thee to sin whilest thou art young?
The Blackamoor as soon may change his skin,
As thou may'st leave and turn away from sin,
When once a habit and a custome's taken,
Then sinfull wayes are hard to be forsaken.
Dar'st thou, vile wretch, Christ's Government oppose,
And with the Devil and Corruption close?
Had'st rather that the Devil reign o're thee,
Than unto God Almighty subject be?
VVhich will be best, dost think, for thee i'th' end,
The Lord to please, and Satan to offend?
Or Satan for to please, and so thereby,
Declare thy self JEHOVAH's Enemy?
For those who live in sin, 'tis very clear,
They Enemies to GOD and Jesus are.
And wilt thou yield unto the Devil still,
And greedily also his will fulfill?
Dost think, vain youth, he'l prove to thee a friend,
That thou dost so his cursed ways commend?
Has Sin (which is his odious excrement)
So sweet a smell, yea and a fragrant scent?
Shall that which is the superfluity
Of naughtiness, be precious in thyne eye?
And dost thou value Christ and all he hath,
Not worth vain pleasures here upon the Earth?
Shall he esteemed be by thee (vile dust!)
Not worth the pleasures of a cursed Lust?
Is there more good in sinfull Vanity,
Than is in all the glorious Trinity?
That which men think is best, that will they chuse
Things of small value 'tis they do refuse.
What thoughts hast thou of Christ then, sinful Soul,
That thou his Messengers dost thus controul,
And dost to him also turn a deaf ear,
His knocks, his calls, and wooings wilt not hear;
Nor him regard, though he stands at thy door,
With Myrrhe and Frankincense, yea and all store
Of rare Fruit, and chief Spice, as Cinnamon,
Aloes, Spikenard, Camphire and Saffron;
All pretious things (poor Soul!) of Heaven above,
He has with him, yet nothing will thee move
To ope the door: for all his calls and knocks,
Thou let's him stand untill his pretious locks
Are wet with dew, and drops of the long night.
Thus thou dost him despise, reject and slight,
And rather keep'st thy Lust and Pleasure still,
Than that Christ should thy Soul with Heaven fill.
Though he ten thousand VVorlds doth yet excell,
And makes that heart where he in truth doth dwell
To be a Heaven here upon the Earth,
Filling the Soul with precious joy and mirth;
VVhich makes gray-headed VVinter like a Spring,
And Youths like to Cœlestial Angels sing;
The Soul he doth so greatly elevate,
That it disdains and doth abominate
All sensual pleasures in comparison
Of Jesus Christ his dear and only One.
Let me perswade thee, for to taste and try,
How good Christ is, for then assuredly,
Thou wilt admire him, yea, and praise the Lord,
That ever he did to thy Soul afford,
Such a dear Saviour, and such good Advice,
To lead thy Soul into sweet Paradice.
For none do know the nature of that Peace,
That inward joy the which shall never cease,
But he himself who doth the same possess:
Oh! taste and see, for then you will confess,
No pen can it express, no Tongue declare,
It's Nature's such (Oh Young-man!) 'tis so rare,
Christ is the Summum bonum, it is He,
In whom alone is true felicity.
Such is the Nature of Man's panting breast,
There's nought on Earth can give him perfect rest.
'Tis not in Honour, that is Vanity:
For such, like Beasts, and other Mortals, dye.
Kingdoms and Crowns they tottering do stand,
The Servant may the Master soon Command.
Belshazzar, who upon the Throne did sit,
His Knees against each other soon did hit.
How was he scar'd when the hand-writing came,
And wrote upon the Wall, ev'n the same
That afterwards befell? his End being come,
Then straitway followed his final Doom.
Great Men oft-times are filled with great fear;
Being perplext they know not how to stear.
Tall Cedars fall, when little shrubs abide,
Though Winds do blow, and strangely turn the Tide.
For Man in Honour lives but a short space,
He dyes like to the Beasts, so ends his race.
Where's Nimrod now, that mighty Man of old,
And where's the Glory of the Head of Gold?
Great Monarchs now are moulder'd quite away,
Who did on Eearth the golden Scepter sway,
In highest place of Humane Government:
None ever found therein solid content.
Of Alexander 'tis declar'd by some,
How he sate down when he had overcome
The Eastern world, and did weep very sore,
Because there was one world, and was no more
For him to Conquer. Thus also 'tis still,
This world's not big enough Man's Soul to fill.
Riches and Wealth also can't satisfie,
That precious Soul which in thy breast doth lye.
If store of Gold and Silver thou shouldst gain,
'Twould but increase thy sorrow grief and pain.
Riches, O Young-man, they are empty things,
And fly most swift away with Eagles wings.
VVhen riches thou dost heap, thou heap'st up sorrow
They'r thine to day, alas! but gone to morrow.
Fires may come, and thy Treasures burn,
Or Theeves steal it, as they have often done.
He that hath thousands by the Year, this night
May be as poor as Job before 'tis light.
And as for pleasure which thy Age doth prize
Why should that seem so lovely in thine eyes?
'Tis but a moment they with thee will last;
And sadness comes also when they are past.
The Brute his pleasures hath as well as thee,
Man's chiefest good therefore can't pleasures be.
And whilst thou striv'st thy evil Lust to please,
Thy raging Conscience (Youth) who shall appease?
Whith this sweet Meat I tell thee also Friend,
Thou shalt have four sauce be sure i'th' end.
And as for Beauty, that also is vain,
Unless thou can'st the inward Beauty gain.
What's outward Beauty save an evil snare:
By which vain ones oft-times deceived are:
And on a sudden draw into temptation,
For to commit most vile abomination.
That Beauty which Man's carnal heart doth prize,
Renders not lovely in Jehovah's eyes:
Though deck'd with jewels, rings, & brave attire,
The glorious King their Beauty don't desire;
His hearts not taken with't, but contrar'wise
The Beauty of vain ones he doth despise,
Though very fair, yet if defil'd with sin,
They like unto Sepulchres are within.
Loathsome and vile i'th sight of God are they,
And soon their seeming Beauty will decay.
It fades and withers, and away doth doth pass,
Just like unto the flower of the grass.
The curled Locks, yea and the spotted Face,
God e're'a while will bring into disgrace.
Those Ladies which excel all others do,
Must feed the worms within a day or two,
Death and the grave will spoil their beauty quite,
And none in them shall never more delight.
As for thy Age in youthful dayes we see,
Youth minds nought else save cursed vanity.
Soon may thy Spring also meet with a blast,
And all thy glory not an hour last.
The flower in the Spring which is so gay,
Soon doth it fade and wither quite away.
Nothing on earth canst thou find out or spy,
That will content thee long, or satisfie
That Soul of thine, if still you search about
Till you do find the rarest Science out.
For if on Learning once you place your mind,
Much vanity in that also you'l find.
For Humane Knowledge and Philosophy,
Can't bring thy Soul into sweet Unity
With God above, and Jesus Christ his Son,
In whom, poor Youth, is happiness alone.
Dote not on Honour then, not yet Treasure,
Nor Beauty, Learning, Youth, nor Pleasure;
All is but Vanity that's here below,
Truth and Experience both the same do show.
Come, look to Heav'n, seek thou for higher joys,
Let Swine take Husks, & Fools these empty toys.
Come taste of Christ, poor Soul, and then you will,
Of joys Cœlestial receive your fill.
If thou dost drink but of the Crystal Springs,
These outward joys thoul't see are trifling things.
If Heavens sweetness once thou hadst but caught,
Thou wouldst account Earth's best enjoyments naught
Honour & riches too Christ has great store
And at's Right hand pleasures for evermore.
Dost think that he who makes Man's life so sweet,
Whilst he with grievous troubles here doth meet,
And in believing hath such sweetness placed,
Though his own Image greatly is defaced,
Can't give to him much greater Consolation,
When all the sowr's vanisht of Temptation.
If with the bitter, Saints such sweetness gain,
What shall they have when they in Glory reign?

Youth.
Be silent Truth, leave off, for I can't bear
Your whyning strains, nor will I longer hear
Such melancholy whymsies, they'r such stuff,
Which suits not with my Age: I have enough
Of it already, and also of you,
Sith you my int'rests strive to overthrow.
When I Appeal'd to you, I was perplext,
And with sad melancholy sorely vext:
But since I do perceive the Storm is o're,
You I don't think to trouble any more.
Long-winded-Sermons, Sir, I do not love.
Nor of your Doctrine in the least approve.
No liberty to me I see you'll give,
In sweet delights and pleasures for to live.
I don't intend Phanatick yet to turn,
Nor after such distracted people run;
An easier way to Heaven I do know,
And therefore, Sir, Farewel, farewel, to you.
My bride, my Sports and my old Company;
I will enjoy, and all my bravery
I will hold fast, yea, wantonly fulfil
My fleshy mind, say preachers what they will?

Conscience.
Ah Youth, ah Youth, is't so in very deed!
Wilt thou no more unto God's truth give heed.
'Twas but my mouth to stop, I now do find
That unto Truth you seemingly inclin'd
But this, O Soul, I must assure to thee,
What thou hast heard, has much enlightned me
And my Commission too it doth renew,
As will appear by what doth next ensue
Have you from God been called thus upon,
And shall your heart be hardened like a stone
You can't plead ignorance, Oh Youth, 'tis so,
You plainly now have heard what you should do.
Your sin will be with grievous Aggravation,
If quickly you don't make a Recantation.
Your sin will now be of a scarlet dye,
And many stripes prepared I espy,
With which you must be beat; because that you
Your Master's Will so perfectly do know,
But for to do the same you still refuse,
And your poor Conscience wickedly abuse,
You'l shew your self a cursed Rebel now,
If unto Christ with speed you do not bow.
Wilt thou thy sins retain, when thou dost hear
How much against the Living God they are?
Wilt thou cast dirt into his blessed face?
Oh! tremble Soul, and dread thy present case.

Youth.
Now my good days, I see they will be gone,
My inward thoughts will ne're let me alone,
Ah that I could but sin without controul,
And Conscience would no more disturb my Soul,
His bitter gripes much longer I can't bear,
He's grown so strong, that little hope is there,
But he'l prevail, such conflicts do I feel.
My Courage now and Resolutions reel;
But yet I am resolv'd once more to try,
And struggle will to get the mastery.
I cowardly will not acquit the Field,
Nor at the second summons will I yield.
I'le make once more another stout assay,
Er'e unto Conscience I will yield the day.
Ah! how can I my sweet delights forsake,
Without resistance to the last I make?
Conscience, although I sinful am, I see
Ther's many thousand sinners worse than me:
There's none can live and from all sin be clear,
That I from Truth did very lately hear.
My heart is good, though it is true, that I
Am over-come through humane frailty.

Conscience.
O cursed wretch! dar'st thou thy heart commend?
Come tremble Soul, and it to pieces rend.
Don't I most clearly in thy heart behold
Most horrid lust, 'twould shame thee were it told:
All rottenness and filthy I do espy,
In that base heart of thine, to lurk and lie;
There Vipers breed and many a Cockatrice;
The spawn of every Sin and evil Vice.
Like a Sepulchre, Soul, thou art with in,
Nought's there but stink and putrifying sin.
Out from thy heart all-evil doth ascend,
And yet wilt thou thy filthy heart commend?
And dost thou think thy state good for to be,
Cause thou dost find many as bad as thee?
You are so naught, If you from sin don't turn,
You must for sin in Hell for ever burn.
Except ye do repent, Truth tells you plain,
You perish must, in everlasting pain.

Youth.
Well, say no more, if this be so, I must
Go unto Truth again, or I shall burst;
My heart will break I clearly do discern,
I therefore now must yield, and also learn
What's my Estate, my Nature, Oh! that I'd know,
Come, Truth, I pray will you this favour show;
As to explain this thing to me more clear,
For Conscience doth my Soul with horrour scare.
Is he i'th' right, Oh Truth! or is he wrong?
I find Convictions in me very strong.
What is my state? declare it unto me,
And set my troubled soul at liberty.

Truth.
What Conscience speaks, O young man, is most right,
And vain it is with him longer to fight:
Conscience against thee doth his witness bear,
And dreadful danger also doth declare.
Those he condemns by Light receiv'd from me,
Th'Eternal God condemns assuredlie.
And God is greater than thy Heart, Oh Soul!
Who can enough thy grievous state condole?
If Conscience does its Testimony give,
That you in sin and cursed ways do live,
And that thou art an unconverted wretch:
If 'tis from hence, between you there's a breach,
And this be so as it you can't deny,
What would you do if you this night should dye?
If in this state this life you do depart,
Undone for evermore, Young man thou art:
As sure as is the mighty God in Heaven,
Against thy Soul the Sentence will be given,
Conscience his power did from God receive?
And if you 'don't obey and him believe,
But do reject his Motions, 'tis all one
As if Christ Jesus you did tread upon:
Whilst he doth Rule by Laws that are Divine,
'Tis Treason him to stop or undermine,
And once again to shew thee thy estate,
Thou being, Young man, not regenerate,
No God nor Christ have you, 'tis even so,
And this indeed's the sum of all your wo.
In God no Interest, (Youth) hast thou at all,
He's quite departed ever since the Fall
And is become thy dreadful Enemy,
His angry face is set most veh'mently
Against thy Soul, and that's a fearful thing,
Enough thy pride with Vengeance down to bring
Each Attribute against thy Soul is set,
And all of them also together met
To make thee every way most miserable,
Which wrath for to withstand, what man is able?
He'l suddenly thy Soul to pieces tear,
And his eternal Vengeance make thee bear:
His wrath it will upon thy Soul remain,
'Till you by Faith are truly born again

Youth.
This Doctrine which to me you do declare,
It is enough to drive one to despair?
If it be so, I grant I am undone,
But God is gracious and has sent his Son:
He's full of bowels, therefore hope do I,
He'l not on me his Justice magnifie.

Truth.
'Tis true God's gracious, yet he will not clear
Those guilty Souls who don't his Justice fear:
He's very gracious, yet he's full of ire,
And is to such like a consuming fire.
He sent his Son, 'tis true, for Souls to dye;
But many miss and falsely do apply
His precious blood; therefore my Counsel take,
Don't you too soon an Application make
Of Gods sweet Grace, nor yet of Christ's dear Blood,
Until by you the Gospel's understood.
Those who are whole need no Physician have,
The Sick and Wounded Soul Christ came to save.
What dost thou judge thy present state to be,
How do's it stand, and is it now with thee?

Youth.
I am a Sinner, and my heart doth bleed,
My sin-sick-Soul doth a sweet Saviour need,
My Conscience tells me that I am most vile,
And grievously for sin doth me turmoile.

Truth.
No Saviour you can have unless you do,
Resolve to leave your sins, and let them go:
Nor for your Wounds is there a help be sure,
'Till Causes be remov'd which do procure,
And bring on you that pain and bitter smart
Which you cry out of in your inward part.

Youth.
My trembling Soul's amaz'd and fill'd with fear,
Another way, Oh Truth! thy course I'le steer;
I must forsake all evil wayes, for I
Do see the danger and the misery
Which doth attend the way that I am in,
Whilst I do keep and hug my cursed sin.
There's scarce a night which passeth o're my head,
But dread I do the making of my Bed;
(E're Morning comes) in the sad depths of Hell.
My Conscience therefore now does me compell,
To bid adieu to all sweet joy and pleasure,
To lies and fraud and all unlawful treasure.
In sports and games I'le take no more delight,
But contrariwise I'le pray both day and night.
Conscience has overcome me with his gripes,
Truth follows him so with his threatn'd stripes.
The wall's broke down, the old man runs away,
And Conscience follows close to cut and slay:
And threatens too no Quarter he will give,
And seems before him every thing to drive
Lust forced is in corners now to fly,
Where it doth hide it self most secretly,
And watcheth also, thinking for to get
An opportunity once more to set
And fall on Conscience, which it doth disdain
'Cause Conscience says Corruption must be slain
I side with him because I would have peace.
But still 'tis doubtful when these Wars will cease.

Devil.
What pity is't thy Sun should set so soon
Or should be clouded thus before 'tis noon:
No sooner risen in thy Horison,
And sweetly shines, but presently is gone.
Shall Winter come before the Spring 'tis past,
And all its fruit be spoil'd with one sad blast?
Shall that brave flower which doth seem so gay,
So quickly fade and wither quite away?
What pity 'tis that one so young as thee
Should thus be brought into Captivity.
Heark not to Conscience, for I dare maintain,
'Tis better for to hug thy sins again.
Thy Conscience, Youth, thou hast too lately found,
Doth but amaze and give thy Soul a wound.
Consider well, advise, and thou shalt see,
My ways are best, come hearken unto me,
I'le give thee honour pleasure, wealth, and things
Which prized are by noble men and Kings.
Let not this Make-bate with one angry frown,
Throw all thy Glory and thy Pleasures down.
Let not strange thoughts distress thy troubled mind,
What satisfaction canst thou have or find,
But that which floweth from this World alone,
'Tis I must raise thee to the sublime Throne
The Hell thou fearest, may be but a story,
And Heaven also but a feigned Glory.
If this don't startle thee, then speedily
I will stir up some other Enemy.
Old man rouze up, I charge you to awake
And swiftly too, your life lies at the stake.
And Mistris Heart, stir up your wilful Will.
Is this a season for him to sit still!
If unto Truth and Conscience he gives place.
Our Intrest will, you'l see go down apace
Judgment is gone already and doth yield,
And Courage too I fear will quit the field.
Some sins are slain, and in their Blood do ly
And others into Holes are forc'd to fly.
As for Affection he doth hold his own,
Though Conscience doth upon him sadly frown:
Remembrance will unto him tray'trous prove,
If I his thoughts from Sermons can remove.
I'le make his Mind run after things below,
And raise up trouble which he did not know:
And he'l forget what he did lately hear,
And cease will then his former thoughts and fear.
If I can please his sensual appetite,
There is no fear of any sudden flight
His breast is Tinder, apt to entertain
The sparks of Lust which long he can't restrain
I'le blow them up and kindle them anew,
And to Convictions soon he'll bid adieu.
New objects I'le present unto his sight,
In which I am sure he can't but take delight.
I have such hold of him, there is no doubt
But I once more shall turn him quite about.
His old Companions also I'le provoke,
At's door again to give another knock;
Their strong inticements hardly he'l withstand,
They can (you'l see) his Spirit soon command.

Youth's old Companions.
How do you, Sir? what is the cause that we
Can't (here of late) enjoy your Company?
It seems to us as if you were grown strange,
As if in Youth there were some sudden change.

Youth.
I have not had the opportunity,
Besides on me there do's some burden lie,
Which doth press down my Spirits very sore,
And makes me seldom to go forth o'th door.

Companions.
I warr'nt you, Sirs, 'tis sin afflicts his Soul,
And he's just going now for to turn fool.
Come, come away, to Age such grief belongs,
To youth, brave mirth and sweet melodious songs.
Come drive these thoughts away with Pipe & Pot:
Sing and Carouse till they are quite forgot.
The lovely strains of the well-tuned Lute,
Where Playes they act, do with our Nature sute.
Come, go with us upon a brave Design,
The which will chear that drooping heart of thine.
Come generous Soul, let thy ambitious eye;
Such foolish fancies and vain dreams defie.
Shall thy Heroick Spirit thus give place,
To silly dotage to thy great disgrace?

Vicinus.
The young-man yields, being possess'd with fears,
They would reproach him else with scoffs and jears,
But afterwards his head begins to ake,
And Conscience then afresh begins to wake,
And stings him after such a bitter sort,
It puts a period to his jovial sport.
The thoughts of death, which sickness doth presage
Doth trouble him, he cannot bear the rage,
And inward gripes of his enlighten'd breast,
And therefore now again he thinks 'tis best
To hark to Conscience, whom he did refuse,
And grievously did many times abuse.

Conscience.
Go mourn, thou wretch, for sad is thy condition,
Pour forth amain the water of Contrition,
Wilt thou appear to men godly to be,
When all is nothing but Hypocrisie?
Wilt thou to Truth so often lend an ear,
And yet to Satan also thus adhere?
You were as good have kept your former station,
As thus to yield afresh unto temptation:
Go unto Truth, if God give space and room,
Before I do pronounce your final doom.

Truth.
Come, come, Young man, don't thy convictions loose,
But cherish them, and timely also choose
The one thing needful, which alone is good,
That God may wash thy Soul in Christ his Blood.
Thy Soul is precious, 'tis of greater worth
Than all the things that are upon the Earth.
For if that the whole world you now could gain,
And all the pleasures of it could obtain;
And in exchange your Soul should lose thereby,
What would your profit be when you must dye?
When once thy Soul is lost, thou losest all:
Oh! that will be a very dismal fall!
Dost thou not know what I of Hell declare,
Of th'hideous howlings of the Damned there?
How canst thou with devouring fire dwell?
Or lie with Devils in the lowest Hell?
Those who do in their natural state remain,
Must live for ever in that restless pain.
All Fornicators, Drunkards, and the Liar,
Must have their portion in that Lake of Fire,
With Thieves; Revilers, and Extortioners,
And such who are most vile Idolaters:
The Proud, the Swearer, and the Covetous,
God doth pronounce on them the self same curse.
And those who live in vile Hypocrisie,
Or do backslide into Apostasie;
Let such unto my present words give heed,
Their pain and torment shall all men's exceed.
What wilt thou do, or whither canst thou fly,
Where canst thou hide from the great Majesty?
Who tries the reins, and searches every heart,
Conscience declares that thou most guilty art
Condemned Soul! thou knowst that this is so,
And this moreover which I Plainly show,
Will come to Pass, as sure as God's above,
If from all sin with speed you don't remove;
As sure as you do live where e're you die,
To Hell you go to all Eternity:
Except Repentance in your Soul be wrought,
with vengeance thither you'll at last be brought
You are the man for whom God did prepare,)
That dreadful Tophet where the Damned are,
The which is made exceeding large and deep,
The Damned in that doleful place to keep,
Oh! call to mind what Conscience doth this day
Charge you withal before you'r swept away;
Lest you from him do hear no more at all,
Till you into those scorching flames do fall
What mercy is't that Conscience strives so long,
And his Convictions still in you are strong!
Oh! fear lest sin do sear your Conscience quite,
And God also put out your Candle-light?
And give you up unto a heart of stone,
As he in Wrath has served many one
Then to repent it will be much too late,
Such is the danger of a lapsed state
Young man take heed you don't this work delay
And put it off unto another day.
Your own Experience may discover this,
Man's Life a bubble and a vapour is.
Alas! thy days on Earth will be but few,
They fly away like to the morning dew;
Like as the cloud and shadow swiftly flies,
Or, dew doth pass as soon as Sun doth rise:
So fly thy dayes, thy golden months and years,
Much like the blossom that most gay appears,
And on a sudden fades and do's decay;
So Youth oft times doth wither quite away.
Thy Age thou do'st unto the Spring compare,
And to the flowers which appear so rare.
From hence, O young-man, learn Instruction now,
Don't thy Experience dayly teach thee how
The Flower withers and hangs down its head,
Which curiously of late so flourished?
The Meadow's clad in glorious array,
But's soon cut down, and turned all to Hay.
Like Jonah's Gourd which sprang up in a night,
And perished as soon as it was light.
Or like a Post which quickly passeth by,
Or Weaver's Shuttle which he maketh fly:
Or as a Ship when she is under sail.
Doth run most swift when she has a full gale.
So are thy days, they in like manner fly.
How many little Graves maist thou espy?
Come measure now thy days, and see their length,
Number them not by years, by health nor strength.
All these uncertain rules you must refuse,
Though that's the way which most of men do use.
They think to live till they old aged are,
'Cause their progenitors long-lived were.
That Rule from Truth you see doth greatly vary,
And which Experience shewth is contrary.
You hear the things which you should reckon by,
Things swift in motion, gone most speedily.
Thy life's uncertain, Youth, 'tis but a blast,
Thy Sand is little, long it will not last,
Thy house though new, yet it is very old.
Gone to decay, and turning to the mould,
You'r born to die, and dead also you were,
Before you liv'd or breathed in the Air.
And die you must, before that live you do,
Except you die to live as I do shew.
Thy dreadful ruine, Soul, is very nigh,
Unless thy Tears prevent it speedily.
What is thy purpose now, what's in thy mind?
Which way dost think to take, how art inclin'd?

Youth.
Thy ways, Oh Truth, I am resolv'd to run,
And never more will I to Folly turn.
I tremble, at the thoughts of Death and Hell,
My Soul is wounded, and my wounds do swell,
My pains increase, therefore my purpose now
Is far more strict to be, and for to bow
Unto Christ Iesus, that I may obtain
Some healing Med'cine to remove my pain
No rest can I, save in my Duty find,
I unto prayer am very much inclin'd.
God will, I hope, these latter sins forgive,
Since I more godly do intend to live:
And so resolve to watch and take such care,
That Satan shall no more my Soul insnare.

Vicinus.
He from this day becomes a great Professor,
Though far from being yet a true Possessor.
Christ he has got into his mouth and head,
And not internally rais'd from the dead,
But in old Adam still does he remain,
Not knowing what 'tis to be born again,
When Satan sees it is in vain to strive,
The Soul into its former state to drive.
But that it will forsake gross wickedness,
And will also the Truths of Christ profess,
He yields thereto resolving secretly,
To blind its eyes in close Hypocrisie.
And so appears under a new disguise,
Most subtilly thy Soul for to surprize,
Perswading him the War which he doth find,
Daily to be within his troubled mind,
Is saving Grace against iniquity,
Which has prevail'd and got the victory;
When it is common Grace (we do so call)
And not the Grace that's supernatural.
He takes the work Legal Reformation:
For th'only work of true Regeneration,
Here he doth rest and seem to be at ease,
When all is done his Conscience to appease.
But I'le give place to this Religious Youth,
To hear discourse between him and the Truth.

Youth.
Oh! happy I, and blessed be the day,
That unto Truth and Conscience I gave way.
I would not be in my old state again,
If I thereby some thousands might obtain.
From Wrath, and Hell, my Soul is now set free;
For I don't doubt, but I converted be.
The Word with power so to me was brought,
A glorious change within my Soul is wrought.

Truth.
Young man take heed, lest you mistaken are,
Conversion's hard, it is a work so rare,
That very few that narrow passage enter,
Though far that way there's thousands do adventure;
Yet miss the mark for all their inward strife,
They fall far short of the new-Creature-life;
Come, let me hear your Grounds of evidence:
For I don't like your seeming confidence.
I doubt I shall find you under God's curse,
And still your Case as bad, if not much worse,
Than 'twas when you did no Profession make,
But did your swing in all Prophaneness take.
The Pharisee was a Religious man,
Yet nearer Heaven was the Publican.
If short of Christ you fix or fasten do,
'Twill be your ruine and your overthrow.

Youth.
What do you mean? this Doctrin's too severe;
For all might see that I converted were.
But if my Grounds you are resolv'd to weigh,
You shall forthwith hear what I have to say;
And the first Ground which I resolve to bring,
For to evince, to clear and prove the thing,
Is from Convictions which I have of sin;
Which once I hugged and delighted in.

Truth.
Alas poor Soul! this Reason soon will fly,
For most do see their vile Iniquity.
They are convinced by their inward light,
That sin is odious in Jehovah's sight.
But yet vile Sinners are nevertheless,
And don't one dram of saving Grace possess.
King Pharaoh, Esau, yea, and Judas too,
They were convinced of their sins (you know:)
That they were Saints, there's no Man doth believe;
For all those three the Devil did deceive.
As he beguiled them, he may likewise,
With cunning Stratagems your Soul surprise.
Nay, and he has, so far as I can judge,
Unless you do some better Reason urge,
To prove Conversion in your Soul is wrought;
I do declare your state is very nought.
How many Men under Convictions lye,
Yet never born again until they dye?
What hast thou else to say and to produce,
Sith slight Convictions are of little use?

Youth.
I do not onely see my sin, but I
Do mourn and grieve for sin continually.
And those which so do mourn they blessed are,
Don't you also the self-same thing declare?

Truth.
Nay hold a little, thou may'st weep amain;
And yet in thee may many evils reign.
And thou may'st mourn for sin, as many do,
Because of shame, of bitter pain, and wo,
Which now it brings and leads unto i'th end,
And not because thereby you do offend
The living God, and wound your Saviour, who
Did for your sake such torment undergo.
Mourn more for th'evil which doth come thereby;
Than for the evil which in it doth ly.
This ground is weak, for Esau, it appears,
Did mourn and weep, and let fall bitters tears:
And yet you know that Esau was prophane,
And far was he from being born again.

Youth.
But I go further yet, I do confess,
My horrid evils, and my guiltiness;
If I confess my sins, as I have done,
God he is just, and is the faithful One;
Who will my sins forgive and pardon quite,
And blot them out of his own precious sight.
This being so, what cause then can you see,
But that I'me turn'd from my Iniquity?

Truth.
This will not do, 'tis not a certain ground;
Some do confess their sins whose heart's unsound.
When Pharaoh saw the Judgement of the Hail,
His heart began then greatly for to fail.
I've sin'd this time, the Lord is just, said he,
I, and my People (also) wicked be.
Though Pharaoh, Saul, and Judas, each of them,
God did reject, and utterly condemn;
Yet these, when under wrath, are forc'd to cry,
Lord we have sin'd; their Conscience so did fly
Into their Faces, that it made them quake,
And unto God Confession strait to make.
Confession may be made also in part;
And not of ev'ry sin that's in the heart.
Men may confess their sin, and their great guilt.
Who the dire nature of it never felt.
Confess their sins in their extremity,
When Conscience pinches them most bitterly.
Confess their sins which they committed have,
Yet don't intend those cursed sins to leave.

Youth.
But I confess, and also do forsake,
My state therefore, 'tis clear, you do mistake;
Those who confess and do their sins foregoe,
God will to them his precious Mercy show.
Therefore don't trouble me, 'tis very plain,
I for my part am truly born again.

Truth.
In this also you may deceived be,
Men may forsake all gross iniquity;
Yet in their Souls may some sweet morsel lye,
Which they may hug and keep close secretly.
They may sin leave, but not as it is sin;
Which has too often manifested bin.
If the least sin thou didst forsake aright,
All sin would then be odious in thy sight.
Judgement and Reason may your sins oppose,
And utterly refuse with them to close;
Yet may thy will and thy affections joyn,
To favour still and love those sins of thine.
If sin's not out of thy affection cast,
Thou wilt appear an Hypocrite at last.
If sin's i'th' will and in th'affections found,
'Tis a true sign thy heart is quite unsound.
Like to the Seaman, some Professors do,
Who over-board some Goods are forc'd to throw,
When they do meet with storms & with bad weather,
Lest all their Goods & Ship do sink together.
When in the Soul great storms and tempests rise,
The Devil then may subtilly advise
The Soul to throw some of its sins away,
To make a Calm, that so thereby he may
Perswade the Soul the danger is quite gone,
And, that the work in him is fully done.
'Tis not enough therefore some sins to leave,
But every sin you must resolve to heave
And cast o're-board, yea, and that willingly,
Or else you sink to all Eternity.
Not by constraint as Conscience doth compel,
As some are forc'd to do who like it well;
Who leave the Act, but love to it retain:
Such leave their sins, and yet their sins remain.

Youth.
These are hard sayings which you do relate,
And I indeed should question my estate
Were't not for other grounds and reasons clear,
By which I know that I converted were.
Sir! there's in me a very glorious change,
Most Men admire it, and do think it strange,
That one who lately did both scoff and jear
Those Men and People, which I now do hear;
And follow'd Vice and ev'ry vanity,
Should on a sudden thus reformed be:
And utterly my self also deny,
Of my sweet joys, and former Company,

Truth.
From outward filthiness a Man may turn,
And not be chang'd in heart when he has done,
A legal change I grant he may be under,
Yet may not Soul and Self be cut asunder.
An outward change in Men there may be wrought,
And yet their hearts within be very nought.
The Swine that wallows in the mire now,
May washed be, but still remains a Sow.
Persons may cleanse the out-side of the Cup,
And Dogs may spew their nasty Vomit up;
But yet do keep their beastly Nature still,
And e're a while they manifest it will.
Many Professors fall away and dy,
For want of being changed thorowly.
The Pharisee was chang'd, he did appear
As if indeed a precious Saint he were;
And differ'd quite from the poor Publican,
And thought himself a far more happy Man.
But all this was in shew, and not in heart;
And therefore had in Christ no share nor part.
Except your Righteousness doth his excel,
You in no wise shall in God's Kingdom dwell.
'Tis a false change, and cannot be a true,
Unless in you all things are wholly new.
Old Herod will reform in many things,
When once he finds his Conscience bites & stings;
To hear John Baptist also was he led,
Yet afterwards depriv'd him of his Head.
So far this seeming-Saint was turn'd aside,
That he also your Saviour did deride;
And with his Men of War set him at nought,
Whilst Accusations they against him sought.
Simon the Sorcerer, also you read,
Was changed so, he gave great care and heed.
To Philip's Preachings; yea, and suddenly
He leaves his Witch-crafts and his Sorcery;
And yet a cursed Caitife all the while,
Like a Sepulchre painted, inward vile.
Another Man in shew 'tis like thou art,
Yet not made new, and changed in thy heart.
Men in thy Life may no great blemish spy,
Yet in thy breast much rottenness may ly.
Toward all men thy Conscience may be clear,
Conscience so far may for thee witness bear,
That you in Morals it do not offend;
Yet unto God it may not you commend:
But contrar'wise it in your face may fly,
And you condemn for sin continually;
For secret evils which it's privy too,
Which none knows of, save only God and you.
Therefore, Oh! Young man, if you look about,
Of your Conversion you have cause to doubt.
Satan so greatly may your heart deceive,
That not one dram of Grace your Soul may have
Which saving is, and of the purest kind,
For that, alas! there's very few do find.

Youth.
But I am call'd of God, and do obey
The Voice of Truth and Conscience every day.
God's called Ones I'me sure you can't deny,
But they are such whom he doth Justifie:
Therefore 'tis clear and very evident,
That Grace alone hath made me penitent.
My heart is sound, my Graces true also,
My Confidence there's none shall overthrow.

Truth.
Thou seem'st too confident, 'tis a bad sign;
For fears attend where saving Grace doth shame.
I tell thee Youth, that many called be;
But few are chosen from Eternity.
Judas was call'd, and did obey in part,
And yet he was a Devil in his heart.
There is an outward, and an inward Call,
The latter only is effectual.
Therefore you must produce some better ground,
For this don't prove that your Conversion's sound;
But that thou may'st stick fast still in the birth,
Or prove Abortive when thou art brought forth.
'Tis rare, Oh Youth! for to be born anew;
And hard to find out when the work is true.

Youth.
Though it be so, what cause have I to fear,
When that my Evidences are so clear?
I do believe, and trust in God through Faith,
And he which so doth do, the witness hath
Within himself, and shall assuredly
Be saved also when he comes to dy.

Truth.
Thou mayst believe as most of People do,
And yet to Hell at last thy Soul may go.
The Faith of Credence it is like you have,
Which cannot quicken, purifie or save.
Some Jews believ'd in Christ you also find,
Yet to their Lusts their hearts were then inclin'd;
And out of Satans Kingdom were not freed,
Nor made Disciples of the Lord indeed.
Simon the Sorcerer, he did believe;
Yet did his Soul no saving Grace receive:
But was a Child of Satan ne're the less,
And still was in the Gall of bitterness.
The stony ground with joy receiv'd the seed,
And for a time brought forth, as you may read;
And yet their hearts they were but hearts of stone,
Their Faith was temporary, soon 'twas gone,
The Devils do believe as well as you,
Yea, and confess that Jesus they do know;
They tremble also, which some Men can't say,
They ever did unto this present day.
Such Faith as Devils have, most Men obtain,
Which serves for nought, save to augment their pain.
If on a Death-bed Conscience do awake,
'Twill cause them then to tremble and to quake,
And roar like Devils when they do espy,
The dreadful wrath of that great Majesty,
Whom they offended, and against their Light,
And knowledge too, most wickedly did slight.
This Faith will serve their grief to aggravate,
But not to help them out of that estate.
'Tis easie to believe that Christ did dy;
But hard his blood in Truth for to apply.
Men may raise up the dead to life again,
As easie as true saving Faith obtain
By their own Power, an inherent skill,
Nought doth oppose it more than Mans own will;
Untill Almighty Power makes it bend,
'Twill not to Grace, nor Jesus condescend.
That Pow'r which rais'd up Jesus from the dead,
Works Faith in Saints, whereby they'r quickened:
The Faith of Credence, and Hystorical,
Is easie had, I ne'er deny it shall;
But precious Faith, the Faith of God's Elect,
As 'tis a Grace, and gloriously bedeckt
With other Graces, so, 'twill never grow
But in the honest heart, where God doth sow
The blessed Seed, which, like a Garden pure,
Doth yield its fruits to th'last, you may be sure.
And when this Faith is wrought in any Soul,
It throws down self, and wholly then doth rowl
On Jesus Christ, as its beloved one,
On whom it rests, and doth depend alone.
If God hath wrought this precious Grace in thee,
Sin thou dost hate, yea, all Iniquity;
And Lust doth not predominate and reign,
If thou by Faith art truly born again.
Christ thou exalt'st as he is Priest and King,
And as thy Prophet too in every thing:
He does in thee wholly the Scepter sway,
And thou art govern'd by him every day.
Sin can't prevail, such is thy happy case,
If thou hast got this rare victorious Grace:
It purges and doth purifie thy heart,
Wholly renewing thee in every part.
Men by its fruits true Faith do come to know,
And by their works the same do also show;
What Faith is thine? what think'st thou now of it?
I greatly fear 'twill prove a counterfeit.
Examine thy Estate, and take good heed,
To close with Jesus Christ, and that with speed.
For as th'Body without the Spirit's dead;
The same of Faith you know is also sed.
Without Obedience doth thy Faith attend;
Yet for all this you'l perish in the end.

Youth.
I am obedient, and am free to joyn
In fellowship with Saints, such Faith is mine:
I willing am to do, as to believe;
The Devil can't therefore my Soul deceive.
For I have clos'd with Christ already so,
That none my Faith shall ever overthrow.
The many Prayers I make both day and night,
Do doubtless prove that my Conversion's right.

Truth.
I tell thee Soul, Men may do more than this,
And yet they may of true Conversion miss.
God's Ordinances many do obey,
And Members of God's holy Church are they.
And of its Priviledges seem to share,
As if that they truly Converted were.
They may discourse, and seem to be devout,
And may not be discerned, nor found out.
They with the Flock may walk, lie down and feed
And so remain till many years succeed:
Nay, not discovered be until they stand
Amongst the Goats at Jesus Christs left-hand.
The foolish Virgins joyn'd themselves with wise,
And for to meet the Bridegroom did arise:
But e're the Bridegroom came their case was sad,
For they nought else save empty Vessels had.
A bare Profession, and a meer out-side;
And did no Oyl, no saving Grace provide.
Many great Preachers, and Disputers too,
Christ will not own, nor any favour shew;
Though in his Name they mighty works have done,
He'l say to them, ye wicked ones, be gone,
I know you not, therefore be gone from me
All you vile workers of Iniquity.
You say oft-times you seek the Lord in Prayer;
That you may do, and let fall many a tear,
And yet not be in a converted state:
For many seek with tears when 'tis too late.
Others like Seamen, in a storm do cry,
When Conscience doth rebuke them bitterly.
And some under Affliction cry and howl,
And grievously their state do then condole;
Then Promises and Resolutions make,
That they such Courses will no longer take:
But when the storm and the affliction's o're,
They are as bad, nay worser than before.
Some Pray in Form, and others Pray by Art,
And some to mend the badness of their Heart;
Their hearts are wounded, and then speedily,
Their Pray'rs to heal it, they do straight apply.
They sin i'th day, and Pray when it is night;
They sin again, but Pray'r doth heal it quite.
They think 'tis well if Tears they can let fall,
Their Prayers and Tears they think will cure all.
And so that way poor Conscience they beguile,
They silence him; yet sinners all the while.
Their Pray'rs, alas! can't wash their filth away,
Though they do nothing else both night and day.
'Tis on their prayers they rest, and do depend;
Which like a broken staff will fail i'th' end
A Saint in Prayer, no rest nor ease can gain,
Unless Christs blood thereby he doth obtain:
And Grace also his sins to mortify,
For Christ, as well as Pardon, he doth cry.
But contrariwise it is with most of Men,
They cry for Pardon, but do also then
In their vile hearts regard iniquity;
And for this cause God doth their suit deny.
Their Prayers are to God abomination,
Whil'st they do hide and cover their transgression.
Some out of Custom do perform their Prayer,
Not out of Conscience, or from godly care,
And others also for vain-glory sake,
Like Pharisees, they many Prayers make.
In sight of Men, in Publick such will pray,
But in the Closet little have to say.
And some to God also seem to draw near,
Yet not in love, nor out of filial fear,
They with their mouths & tongues much kindness show,
When as their hearts are fixt on things below.
'Tis for the heart which Christ doth chiefly call,
And reason 'tis that he should have it all.
For he the same did buy and purchase dear,
Yet Satan has the chief possession there.
God at the door, and in the porch doth stand,
While Satan may the bravest room command.
They'l ope to him, and keep Jehovah out,
And yet in Pray'r they seem to be devout.
There's some will pray, and up this Duty keep,
When th'Soul is quite, and th'Body near asleep.
VVho ever prays, and prays not fervently,
In Faith, in Truth, and in Sincerity;
Their Prayers are sin, and them God will not hear,
Nor mind their cry when they to him draw near.
'Tis not enough a Duty for to know,
But how also each Duty you should do:
For Men may Pray, Read, Hear, and Meditate;
And yet be in an unconverted state.
They outwardly may many Truths profess,
But not in heart the pow'r of them possess.
The Law i'th' Letter keep, yea have the shell;
Yet seeds on husks, and want the true kernel.
The Young-man which to Jesus Christ did run,
He many things as well as you had done;
And yet fell short, as you may plainly see,
Of the chief part of true Christianity.
What say ye now, O Youth, do you not fear,
That you by Satan much deceived are?
Have you no Dalila which secretly
Doth in your heart, or in your bosom ly?
Don't you to sin some secret love retain?
If it be so, you are not born again.
Conscience I fear, and God's restraining Grace,
Has only stopt you in your former race.
Like to a Dog that's kept up by a Chain,
So Conscience does from sin oft times restrain.
But if the Chain should slip, then loose he goes;
And presently his churlish nature shows.
To your own Righteousness do you not trust?
I fear you do, come speak, or Conscience must.
Don't you conclude God is oblig'd to you,
Since you have let so many evils go?
And are so holy here of late become,
Are not your duties set up in the room
And place of Christ? Oh! see you do not make
A Saviour of your own (for Jesus sake)
Did ever sin, sinful to you appear?
And, as 'tis sin, to it great hatred bear:
Would you not sin, were there no Hell of pain,
Because you know the Lord doth it disdain?
Rather, is't not from fear of punishment,
That you of late seem thus for to relent?
Or, doth there not some carnal base design,
Move thee so far unto God's Truth to joyn?
Is not thy end to get a name thereby?
Or only done, Conscience to satisfie?
Or done to free thee from reproach and shame,
Which sin doth bring upon a Person's Name?
Ha'st not it done, and wisely cast about
This way, for to prevent a bankerout?
Or done for to augment thy outward store,
To save thy stock, and add unto it more?
For Riotous Living which attends thy Age,
Consumes a pace, and want it doth presage.
Come speak, O Youth, and be thou not unfree,
To let me understand how 'tis with thee.
Come, call to mind what thou hast heard of late,
And thereby judge of this thy present state.

Youth.
I do not see but my condition's good,
I have such hope & Faith in Christ's dear blood:
Though many imperfections I do see,
Yet God is gracious, and will pardon me.
For many failings there is in the best:
What is amiss, I'le mend, and so do rest.

Truth.
Conscience, I do i'th' Name of the great King,
Require you forth your evidence to bring
Against this Man, accuse, or set him free,
According as you find his state to be:
Stand up for Christ your dread & Soveraign Lord,
And Judge for him as he doth Light afford.
Be not deceiv'd by Lust, a Bribe to take,
But Judge by Law; Christ's honour lies at stake.
For to speak home and loud have you forgot?
Is he converted now, or is he not?
What do you say? your Testimony give:
Is all sin dead, or doth there any live?
Is he new born, and chang'd in every part?
Or is't in shew only, and not in heart?

Conscience.
Sir, say no more, I am at your Command,
And you shall hear how things at present stand.
He hath, O Truth, almost deceived me
By's late pretences unto Sanctity:
But having now a fresh receiv'd more light,
I must declare he is an Hypocrite.
He's not renew'd or truly born again,
Which I to you shall clearly now explain.
For, first of all, his Faculty, call'd Will,
That is perverse and very wicked still;
Though I stir up to good every hour,
Will doth oppose it with his greatest pow'r.
He'll never pray in private day nor night:
But I must force him to't with all my might.
The old man is not slain I do espy,
But has much favour shown him secretly.
Though I do force him into holes to run,
Yet he doth nourish him when all is done.
His Love and his Affections are for sin,
And so in truth they ever yet have bin.
He's troubl'd more at sin because of guilt,
Than at the Odium of its cursed filth
When he's abroad amongst Religious Men,
Precise and Zealous he is always then:
But when amongst such who ungodly be,
He suits himself to their vile company.
Some sins are left which Men condemn as gross,
Yet one he keeps, and hugs it very close:
Lust doth bear rule and much predominate,
And he on it doth love to ruminate.
'Tis shame and outward fear doth him restrain,
Or else the act he would commit again.
If he from outward blots can keep his Name,
That Saints can't him accuse nor justly blame,
He's satisfied, and very well content,
Though to his Peace I never gave consent.
Peace he oft-times doth speak unto his Soul,
And scarce will suffer me him to controul.
When I sometimes do catch him in a lye,
And do reprove him for Hypocrisie:
To stop my Mouth he vowes he will with speed
Amend what is amiss, and take more heed.
And more than this of him I could relate,
And shew how you have hit his present state:
But that he will not suffer me to speak,
He blinds my eyes, that so I might not rake
Into his heart and life, lest he thereby
Meets with great shame for his iniquity.

Truth.
Conscience, forbear, you need not to inlarge;
If you do lay these things unto his charge.
He is undone, alas! his pretious Soul
Is under wrath, who can enough condole
His sad estate! the Gospel he'l profess,
But still remains i'th gall of bitterness.
Is this the Saint which seemed so precise,
And did appear God's Statutes much to prize?
A Saint in shew, a Devil in his heart;
And must with Devils also have his part.
The day is coming, and is very near,
When Hypocrits shall be surpriz'd with fear;
The everlasting burning fiery Lake,
Is made more hot on purpose for their sake.
But since you are not sear'd, nor I yet gone,
Before we leave him quite, do you go on:
Let us pursue him still, for who doth know
What God may yet upon his Spirit do?
If God grant him one dram of saving Grace,
That will yet do; though 'tis a doubtful case,
Whether or no God will his Grace afford
To such as he, who thus offend the Lord.
For such whom Satan doth this way deceive,
'Tis hard to bring truly for to believe.
He never was convinced thorowly,
Of Sin, and of his nat'ral misery.
His lost estate he truly never saw,
Nor what it is for to transgress God's Law.
How he's undone thereby he never knew,
Nor what for sin original is due.
And as he did for sin ne're kindly bleed;
So of a Christ he never saw the need.
Th'absolute want and great necessity
Of Jesus Christ, he never did espy:
But on false bottoms he has built 'tis clear;
I do conjure you therefore to declare
Him utterly unclean from top to toe,
And let him understand you are his Foe.
The Plaugue is in his head, and no place free,
But in his heart it rages vehemently.
Lance him unto the quick, and make him feel,
Lay on such blows as may cause him to reel.

Conscience.
Come, come, O Young-man, listen unto me,
I will no longer thus deceived be.
I from God's Word Commission have anew,
To tell thee what is like for to ensue;
For all thy hopes and seeming goodly show,
Thou art a wretched sinner thou dost know.
Think'st thou on Conscience to commit a Rape,
And yet God's dreadful vengeance to escape?
Dar'st thou again under a new disguise,
Encounter with thy former Enemies?
You are the same I am sure although you have
Changed your Coat, poor Mortals to deceive.
Ungodly wretch! dost thou not dread my Name,
Who'm come once more against thee to proclaim
A second War, and to declare also,
God's still thy Enemy and bitter Foe.
His Sword is whet, his Bow he'l also bend,
To cut down those that do, like thee offend.
Nought he hates more than vile Hypocrisy,
And from his Presence, Youth, thou canst not fly.

Youth.
Conscience, be still, though I a sinner be,
Ther's none doth know it now save onely thee.

Conscience.
Deceived Soul! doth none know it but I?
Where's the great God, is he not also nigh?
Dost think, vain Youth, the interposing Cloud,
From God's all-searching Eye can be a shroud?
Or dost thou think God's Seat is so on high,
That he cannot thy inward thoughts espy?
None know't but me! know'st thou not who I am?
Have I not pow'r for to accuse, and damn?
Should I be still, it would be a sad day,
Unless thy sins were purged clean away.
And whilst I speak, and thou dost stop thine Ear,
Nothing but War and Tumults thou wilt hear.
I'le never side with thee, nor take thy part,
Whilst horrid guilt remains in thy base heart.
Nor would I mind thy flattery or frown,
Wert thou the highest Prince of great'st Renown.
That ever did on Earth a Scepter sway,
Before thy face I would thy evils lay.
At th'smallest sin before I can't connive;
And therefore with me 'tis in vain to strive.
For where I am an Enemy indeed,
I'le plague that heart until I make it bleed,
A close and secret Foe, Young-man, am I,
Who am also with thee continually.
What e're you think or speak, yea, act or do,
Of it (poor Soul) I very well do know:
Thy secret Lust, and what is done i'th' night,
Which thou ashamed art should come to light.
I then am nigh, and know it very well,
And more than this I am resolv'd to tell;
I unto thee shall prove an Enemy,
When thou art brought into Adversity;
When death and sickness comes, then thou shalt see
How thou with horror shalt amazed be.
Then my black Bill against thee will be large,
For then against thee I will bring a Charge,
Which will make thy sad face like Ashes look,
And wound thy Soul as if a Knife was struck
Into thy very heart, and make thee mourn,
And curse the day that ever thou wast born.
I'le make thee understand (clearly) i'th' end,
VVhat 'tis (vile wretch) poor Conscience to offend.
Heark once again, for I have more to say;
VVhen this life's ended, there's another day.
Look now about thee, Youth, for there's to come,
The black, the dark, and dreadful day of Doom.
VVhen thou dost dye, I'le bite and sting thy Soul,
Whilst that in flames doth burn and doth condole
Its damned state for yielding unto sin,
VVhich has alone the ruine of it bin.
And also when i'th' Judgement Day you stand
Amongst the Goats at Jesus Christ's left hand,
Thy dreadful state and tryal for to hear,
Then I against thee straitway must appear;
Yea, and shall speak more plain than now I can,
Because I'me clouded by the Fall of Man;
And am by Satan oftentimes misled,
And utterly unable rendered
A true and right decision for to make,
He so beguiles me that I do mistake,
And a wrong Judgement oftentimes retain,
Till Truth sets me into the right again.
But Satan then shall no more power have,
The heart of any Man for to deceive.
I in that day shall you provoke and urge,
For to confess with shame before the Judge,
Thy evil Lust and close Hypocrisie,
Unto thy own Eternal misery.
I shall accuse thee so in that great Day,
Thou shalt not have one word (Young-man) to say,
Thy inward parts so opened then shall be,
That nothing shall be hid i'th' least from me,
And I before the dreadful Judge shall show,
All secret things that ever you did do;
And in your face so fiercely also fly,
That you with horror shall be forc'd to cry,
Guilty, guilty, O Lord! then thou must hear
The dreadful Sentence, which no one can bear;
Go, go, ye Cursed! that's a word of ire,
And you must down into Eternal fire,
VVhere Hypocrits and Unbelievers lye,
Broyling in pain to all Eternity.
And as the fire evermore will burn,
And thou from thence shalt never more return:
So also shall then afflict thy Soul,
VVhilst thou in scalding Sulphur flames dost roul.
I like a VVorm, or Serpent, then will bite,
And gnaw thy Soul, thou cursed Hypocrite.
Those inward stings which always thou wilt find,
Or cruel gnawings in thy torrur'd mind.
Will then increase and aggravate thy woe,
In such a sort there is no Tongue can show.
You then will think how you did me abuse,
And my good Counsel utterly refuse.
And how you labour'd to put out my Light,
Who in God's paths would lead your feet aright.
Your base delays and put-offs you'l repent.
And that your time so foolishly was spent:
That you for love which unto Lust you bore,
Should lose your Soul, and that for evermore.
To think how near you were unto Salvation,
Will prove another grievous aggravation:
To bid so fair for Heaven, yet to miss;
What greater trouble can there be than this?
To see the Ship i'th' mouth o'th' Haven lost,
That doth, ye know, perplex the Merchant most.
I'le tell you also how you wilfully
Brought on your self that dreadful misery:
And how I did oftimes to you declare,
The bitter torments which you then must bear:
And what your Pride and Lust would bring you to,
If you did not resolve to let them go.
Ah! thou wilt see how thou art quite undone,
And how all hopes for evermore are gone.
Thoughts of those golden Seasons once you had,
And vainly lost, will then be very sad.
Thou might'st, hadst thou improv'd the means of Grace,
Beheld with Saints God's reconciled face
And enter'd Paradise, where Angels sing
Anthems of Joy to the Eternal King:
Thou might'st have sung to him melodious Psalms
With those whose hands shall bear triumphant Palms;
Who with Eternal Love shall ravish'd be,
Reigning with Christ to all Eternity.
Heaven is a place whose glory doth excel;
The thousand part of it no tongue can tell.
Man's heart (Truth says) cannot i'th' least conceive
What those shall have who truly do believe.
Who would lose Christ and his immortal treasure?
For one base Lust and moments time of pleasure?
But if what's said of Heav'n will not invite thee,
Then let hell torments with black vengeance fright thee
And make thee yield to truth without delays,
Before God put's a period to thy days.
As Eye can neither see, nor Tongue express
The glory which God's Saints in Heav'n possess:
So there's no Man which can conceive the woe,
That Souls shut up in Hell do undergo
If Men could number all the Stars of Heaven,
Or count the Dust which with the wind is driven;
Or tell the drops of water in the Seas,
Or count the Sands; then might a man with ease
Declare the nature of that dreadful pain,
Which damned Souls for ever must sustain.
But Stars, nor Dust, nor Drops, nor Sands can be
Number'd by any Man, neither can he
Express the nature of God's dreadful ire,
Which Souls lye under in Eternal fire.
In Hell all's darkness, not one beam of Light:
What's greater sorrow than Eternal Night?
In Hell all's Death, and yet there is no dying,
Nought there is heard but a most hideous crying.
Their pains end not, from it there's no exemption,
Their cries admit no help, there's no redemption,
Nor none to pity them, nor hear their groans,
Whilst they do make their lamentable moans.
The Lord who dy'd will then rejoyce to see,
Vengeance pour'd forth upon those Souls that be
Vessels of Wrath, who for rejecting Grace
Must have their portion in that doleful place.
No Earthly pain or torment can declare,
The woful Anguish which the Damned bear:
For if those Plagues could be defin'd by Men,
Infinite punishment 'twould not be then.
Infinite Wrath it is to satisfie;
And God, be sure, will Justice magnifie.
Didst thou but hear the groans and hideous cry
Of Souls condemned to Eternity,
How would it scare, and cause thy Heart to ake,
And every limb of thee tremble and quake!
Think, think on this, before the time doth come
That God doth pass on thee thy final Doom.

Truth.
What say'st thou now? how can'st thou sleep in peace,
Until these inward gripes of Conscience cease?
How can'st thou think i'th' least thy state is good,
When Conscience swels & makes so great a flood?
Or raises storms and tempests in thy breast?
Because of sin he will not let thee rest.
Come, make a search, Conscience is not misled,
The very Truth before you he has spread.
VVhat will you do at death and Judgement Day,
If Conscience thus you slight and disobey?
Make peace with God, for worser are his cryes,
Than if ten thousand witnesses should rise
Against thy Soul; 'twill be a dreadful thing
To have thy Conscience then to bite and sting.

Youth.
Some comfort, Truth, alas my Soul doth melt,
Such gripes as these what Man has ever felt?
I have some doubt my state is very nought,
And that Conversion is not truly wrought.
My heart condemns me, and doth me reprove;
'Tis thou alone which can my grief remove.

Truth.
Before you have a Plaister for your sore,
Your wound must yet be search'd a little more:
If slightly heal'd only for present ease,
The Remedy's as bad as the Disease.
Dost know what time thou didst this wound receive
'Tis worser far, I fear, than you believe:
'Tis deep, it stinks, yea, and 'tis venemous;
And doth expose thee to God's dreadful Curse.
The sting or dart sticks fast too in thy Liver,
VVhich doth thy smart and bitter pains procure.
Thy state is bad, thou hast thy mortal wound,
No Limb, or any part of thee, is sound.
If thou couldst live, and never more offend,
Yet by the Law thy Soul is quite condemn'd.
If from all actual sin you should be clear,
Yet by the Law you still most guilty are
Of former Crimes, Treason and Fellony,
And justice doth aloud for Vengeance cry,
Nor will she Pardon or Reprieve give forth
To any Sinner living on the Earth.
Against thee too the Sentence is forth gone,
And th'Day of Execution doth draw on;
Nought is between thee and eternal Death;
But some short hours of uncertain breath.
Sin is so vile, and Justice so severe,
That in the least 'twould not Christ Jesus spare;
But Justice he must fully satisfie,
Who came to be man's blest Security.
And since in Christ thou hast no share nor part,
See what a self-condemed Soul thou art.

Youth.
O cursed Sin! is this my sad condition.
Truth I believe hath made a right decision.
I have my Soul deceived all along,
Though in my heart Convictions oft were strong.
Oh! horrid Lust, and base deceitful Devil,
Is this the fruit of your sweet-pleasing evil?
And thou false World, what art thou now to me?
For I alas I am ruined by thee.
O whether shall I fly? what path untrod?
For to escape th'incensed wrath of God?
Will none for me some secret place provide,
Where I from flaming Vengeance close may hide.

Truth.
Vain is all this, for none can find a place
To hide from God (such is thy bitter case)
If to the ends of all the Earth you fly,
Vengeance will you pursue with Hue and Cry:
If you should take a sudden hasty flight,
To seek some shelter in the shades of Night;
'Twould also fail thee, though it should be done:
For unto God Darkness and Light is one.
Or, if thou couldst some solid Rock espy,
To hide thee from God's dreadful Majesty.
Can Rocks, dost think, prevent, yea, or restrain
The stroke of Justice, and not fly in twain?
There is no Sea, nor Shade, nor Rock, nor Cave
Which can from Vengeance shelter thee or save.
The Sea would part, the hardest Rock will split:
Where Justice aims, her fiery Darts must hit.
Canst thou escape, alas! what place is there
To hide from him who's present ev'ry where?

Youth.
Oh Truth! what shall I do, how can I stand,
Or bear these tortures of God's heavy hand?
My Spirit may infirmities sustain,
But who can bear this inward cutting pain
Is there no help, no Salve to heal my Wound;
What, no Physitian for me to be found!
Will Tears nor Prayers no help at all afford,
Watchings, Fastings, nor Hearing of the Word?
Or if that I could live and sin no more,
O what is sin, and what's my Gangrene sore!
O what's the nature of iniquity,
If nought my Soul can cleanse or purifie?
Rivers of Oyl, much Gold, or Earthly Wealth.
Will not redeem my Soul, nor purchase health.
Ah! I am lost! the cause is truly so,
I am undone, and know not what to do!
Have you no word of Comfort now for me?
Oh! must I dye in this extremity?

Truth.
Dost find thy self sick at the very heart?
And doth my searchings make thy Wounds to smart
Doth sin, as sin, upon thy Spiritly?
And doth its weight and burden make thee cry?
Dost know thy Wound is Epidemical?
And that for thee there is no help at all
By Law nor Levite? dost thou see thy loss,
And thy own Righteousness to be but dross?

Youth.
I know not what to say, I am in doubt
Some sin is hid, which yet I can't find out.
My heart is deep and very traiterous;
Every day I find it worse and worse.
I grieve for sin, and yet I am in dread
That I in sin am greatly hardened.
Yet this, O Truth, I hope is wrought in me,
Sin I do hate as 'tis Iniquity.
I would not Christ offend nor grieve again,
Were there no Hell or place of future pain:
O that e're I against the Lord should sin,
Who has to me so good and gracious bin!
Against the Lord, against the Lord alone,
Have I this horrid evil often done.
Oh! I do see that I in sin am dead,
And my iniquity's gone o're my head,
As a great burden which I cannot bear,
Oh! that I might but of a Saviour hear.
All my own Righteousness I prize no more
Than stinking refuse of a Common-shore.

Truth.
Come Youth, chear up, if this be so indeed,
I tell thee then Christ for thy Soul did bleed.
Glad tydings now I unto thee do bring,
There's Mercy for thee in the Heav'nly King.
Christ to appease God's Wrath did hither come,
And I am sent by him to call thee home.
Rise up, rise up, his blood for to apply,
And thou shalt soon be healed perfectly.

Youth.
Ah! could I but believe what thou dost say
Unto my Soul, 'twould be a joyful day.
Alas! on me a mighty burden lies,
I cannot stir, nor power have to rise.
Can Lazarus, who in the grave doth lye,
Death's cruel Fetters and strong Bands unty?
Can he awake? what pow'r has he to strive,
When dead, and stinks? alas! he can't revive,
Although dead but four days: then how shall I,
Who have lay'n dead in my iniquity
Ever since Adam (as it plain appears)
Which is indeed above five thousand years?
Jehovah which at first my heart did make,
Must by his Pow'r it into pieces take;
That so he may create my heart a-new,
E're good from Christ doth to my Soul accrue,
'Tis he must give me pow'r to will and do,
And raise me up e're I can creep or go.

Truth.
Though that be true, yet hearken unto me,
And take the Councel which I'le give to thee?
And thou shalt find, as sure as God's above,
He will thy Fears and all thy Doubts remove,
And raise thee up out of the empty Pit,
And on a Rock also still set thy feet.
First thing of all which to you I commend,
Be sure you don't your Conscience more offend,
Do not grieve that, but always take great care
In every thing to prove your self sincere.
He that in Morals walks not faithfully,
Mo marvel 'tis if Christ do pass him by.
In ev'ry Nation those excepted are,
Who walk uprightly, and the Lord do fear!
Those who do follow on to know the Lord,
He will to them his saving help afford.
I do exhort you in the second place,
For to attend upon all means of grace.
Do not neglect to hear God's blessed Word,
But prize each season which the precious Lord
Is pleas'd in Mercy on you to bestow,
For unto you thereby much good will flow.
My third advice, make use of speedily,
Lift up your voice unto the Lord on high!
Pour forth your Soul to him both night and day,
And you'l prevail, though he at first say nay.
Though you at first may with repulses meet,
Your Soul yet prostrate at Jehovahs feet.
He's full of bowels, long he can't refrain
E're he comes forth to ease you of your pain.
Thy Prayers, and Tears, and spiritual contrition,
Will move his heart to send thee a Physitian,
Who will apply a Plaister to thy wound,
Which will hereafter ever make thee sound.
Christ's blood will heal, 'twill cleanse and purify,
If now the same by Faith you do apply.
Such grief is thine, no Med'cine will do good,
Nor heal thy Soul, but thy dear Saviour's blood.
The good Samaritan will cast a look,
Though thou of Priest and Levite art forsook?
Into thy Wounds he'l pour in Oyl and Wine,
The which will heal that bleeding Soul of thine.
O Cry to God, my Sister Grace to send,
'Tis she at last will prove thy special Friend.
If God is pleased but to send her down,
Thy head with Glory she will straight way crown.
But here I'le advertise thee first of all,
Be sure you do for the right Sister call:
For there are two, and both of one Sir-name,
The one is lovely fair, the other lame.
The one is common, th'other chast and pure,
And will be true to thee thou mayst be sure.
The one will dwell where sin predominates,
The other loaths, and bitterly it hates,
And makes a thorow-change where she doth dwell,
And will all filth out of that heart expel,
Where she doth take up her sure resting-place;
Rare is the nature of true saving Grace.
Thy stubborn will she'l make for to submit,
And thy affections change as she thinks fit.
Thy heart she can new-mould, and make it soft,
And will bring down each high and sinful thought,
The Old-man she will into pieces tear,
She'l cut and kill, and nothing will she spare,
That's opposite unto the Prince of Light,
She'l put the Devil to a speedy flight;
She'l make him leave his strongest hold, and run,
And quite forsake his former Garison.
She'l take no pity on the Old-man's Age,
She'l pay him off for all his wrath and Rage,
And cursed Malice, Pride and every sin,
Which of long time he has the Author bin.
'Tis she can work upon the Covetous,
And change his heart to keep an open-house,
To give and to distribute of his store,
To th'cloathing and refreshing of the Poor.
'Tis she brings down the proud and lofty mind,
Which nat'rally was to that vice inclin'd.
'Tis she can tame the wild strong headed Youth,
And make the Lyar always tell the truth.
'Tis she which makes the froward very meek,
And the revengeful not revenge to seek.
'Tis she which quenches Young-mens lustful fire,
And makes them to disdain that base desire.
'Tis she will make thy Soul for to defie.
Each Dalilah, and all Hypocrisie
She's like to Oyl and Wine, and veil give peace
And inward joy, which never more shall cease
'Tis she must put Christ's blessed Robes on thee,
And bring thy soul out of Captivity.
'Tis she must thee adorn and beautifie,
And make thee lovely in Christ Jesus Eye.
Oh! she'l inflame thy Soul with precious love
To Christ alone, which none shall e're remove.
'Tis she which tyes that conjugal blest knot,
Which can't be broke, nor ever be forgot.
'Tis she that makes Christ and the Saints but one,
And makes them of his very flesh and bone.
'Tis she will help thee in this time of need,
Yea, a Disciple will make thee indeed.
And this to thee also I must declare,
Thou of this Grace shalt have a part and share.
Since 'twas for thee thy precious Lord did dy,
He can't thy Soul of saving Grace deny,
Give him no rest, 'till more he doth give forth,
For to compleat in thee the second Birth,
Be earnest with him, strive to hold him fast,
And thou, like Jacob, wilt prevail at last.
Though he at first may seem to stop his Ear,
Yet importunity will make him hear.
Thy time I'm sure it is the time of love,
And thy deep wounds will make him from above
To pity thee, and for to cast an eye,
As thou polluted in thy blood dost lye;
What e're is needful to thee he will give,
And raise thee up to life, and make thee live;
Yea, manifest to thee such consolation,
As for to cloath thee with his own Salvation.
Come, make a tryal, and do not despair,
Look up to Heaven, Soul, thy help is there.

Youth.

Iesus.
What voice is this? who is't that makes this cry?
What sinful Wretch is in extremity,
That thus implores for help, and follows me?
That takes no nay, although I silent be?

Youth.
Lord, 'tis a poor dejected piece of Earth,
That is undone, and sighs for a new birth.

Iesus.
Was I not sent only to Jacob's race?
How com'st thou then to have so bold a face
To importune me, when ye know full well
You are not of the stock of Israel?
Come you not of the cursed Gentile seed?
Be gone from me, and further don't proceed.

Youth.
Ah! help, dear Lord, and some compassion show
For to whom else, or whither can I go?

Iesus.
Is't meet that I should give to Dogs that Bread,
With which the Children should be nourished?

Youth.
True, Lord that I do grant, and evershall:
Yet may the Dogs eat up those Crums which fall
From their own Master's Table: though a whelp,
Lord, look on me, O precious Saviour, help.

Iesus.
What ailest thou, poor Soul, what's thy condition,
Which makes thee shed these tears of sad contrition?

Youth.
My grief, my pain, and great extremitie,
Lord, thou dost know, and all my wants dost see.
Ah! I have sinn'd, and am so vile and base,
I hate my self, and loath my present case.
I am a lump of filth, wholly unclean,
A viler Creature there has never been.
I languish, Lord, my wounds they are not small:
And I have wounded thee, that's worst of all.

Iesus.
Come, cease thy grief, what is't thou dost desire?
My Soul doth melt, my heart is set on fire;
My bowels yearn, I longer can't refrain
From tears, as well as thee I am in pain:
Thy wounds afflict me, and thy bitter cry
Doth pierce my heart, I know thy misery.
What is it, Soul? speak forth thy mind to me;
What dost thou crave, or shall I do for thee?
Come, ope thy heart to me, for I am nigh
Thy suit to grant, thy wants for to supply.

Youth.
'Tis not for Riches, nor for Pleasures here,
Nor Honours, which by men so prized are,
Nor length of days, Lord do I seek or crave,
'Tis something else my Soul doth long to have.
The Earth's a blast, and all the World's a bubble:
There's nothing in't can ease me of my trouble.
Such is my state, nought but thy hand can save,
'Tis thou must raise dead Laz'rus from the grave.
Knock off these bolts, and set thy Prisoner free.
And give thy grace (Lord Jesus) unto me.
My fainting Spirit comfort and refresh,
O spare my Soul, but crucifie the flesh;
Compleat thy Work (Lord Jesus) on my heart,
And thy own Righteousness to me impart.
There's nought I see will do me any good,
Save the dear Merit of thy precious blood.
My bleeding Soul will faint away and dye,
If thou dost not thy blood with speed apply.
How has my panting breast sent many groan,
With bitter tears, up to thy gracious Throne,
For one sweet look and aspect of thine eye?
There's nothing else which will me satisfie:
Oh! manifest thy Love unto my Soul,
For that will cure me, and soon make me whole.
My gasping Soul's dissolved into tears.
Whiles pleas'd with hopes, and yet possess'd with fears:
My great request, alas! is only this,
Come seal thy Love to me with a sweet kiss:
For nought is there in Earth, nor Heaven above,
Which I esteem or Value like thy Love.
A Promise grant, some word to lie upon,
Before my life and little hopes are gone.
My Soul's afraid, and trembles thou dost see,
Because I know how I unworthy be:
Ah! I have made thee bleed, I am so vile;
Thy frowns I do deserve but not one smile
How did I grieve and put thy Soul to pain!
The thoughts of it doth cut my heart in twain.
Thy Messengers, how did my Soul refuse!
And my poor Conscience wickedly abuse:
Who did receive Commission from above,
Either to clear, or sharply to reprove.
I unto Truth oft-times turn'd a deaf ear,
And unto Satan rather did adhere.
I slighted thee, and sin I did embrace,
Which shames me greatly to look in thy face.
If thou shouldst pardon such a one as I,
And save my Soul to all Eternity,
And me embrace in a contract of love,
And all thy wrath for every quite remove:
It would be Grace and Love beyond degree,
And such which never can expressed be,
O, wilt thou speak again! dear Saviour do,
A Promise, Lord, or I'le not let thee go.

Iesus.
What Faith hast thou, poor Soul, canst thou believes
And stedfastly my benefits receive?
Do'st think that I have power and a heart
To save, to help, and free thee from thy smart?

Youth.
My Faith, alas! is weak, O send relief!
Lord, I believe, O help my unbelief!
That precious Voice which I did lately hear,
Will soon remove my doubts, and all my fear.
If Love as well as pity thou dost show,
'Twill give me joy, and take away my woe.
But thou may'st, Lord, my Soul commiserate,
And yet may I be in a dying state.
Over Jerusalem thou didst lament,
Who had no saving Grace for to repent,
Is there in thee such bowels of compassion,
As to bestow thy self and thy Salvation
On such a Worm as I, whose wounded breast,
Is heavy loaded, and would fain have rest?
O help, dear Lord; my fainting Soul will dy,
Without an answer from thee speedily,

Iesus.
Look up to me, and see my Love descending,
Tis from Eternity, and has no ending.
Canst thou have more, dear Soul? thou hast my heart;
What e're is mine, to thee I will impart.
Thy scarlet sins are washed quite away,
Not one of them unto thy charge I'le lay.
Pull up thy drooping heart, be of good chear,
Thy sins, though nere so great, forgiven are,
I able am to save to th'uttermost,
All those who do in me put all their trust.
Those which do come to me, I in no wise
Will cast them out, therefore lift up thine eyes:
Behold my hands and feet, and do not doubt,
For I have washt and cleans'd thy Soul throughout.
Thy debts I've paid, and quitted the old score;
Thy former faults I'le ne're remember more.
Enter the Royal Fort, thou hast obtain'd
Th'fountain of pleasure, holy love unstain'd:
Take up thy Lodging in Eternal Love.
What's here below? thy treasure is above.
Chear up, poor heart, I tell thee thou art mine,
My blood was shed to save that Soul of thine:
With endless joys thy Soul I'le satisfie,
And in my Bosom ever shalt thou lie.
In my enfolded Arms I now thee take,
And do engage I'le never thee forsake.
In th'fire and in the water I'le be neer,
And help thee through all grief and troubles here;
Yea, I'le be with thee always to the end,
And Death at last I'le cause to be thy Friend;
And make its passage also unto thee,
Only an entrance to felicity.
Rivers of Pleasures thou shalt have to th'brim,
Wherein the Prophets and Apostles swim:
And with great Glory thou shalt crowned be,
And on the Throne sit down also with me.
World, Death, nor Devil ever shall remove
My heart from thee; for those I truly love,
I love to th'end: Ah! Soul 'tis thou shalt lie,
In my own Arms to all Eternity.

Youth.
Darkness is gone, day-light begins to spring;
Heavens melody I find's the sweetest thing.
The Sun is risen now, it is broke forth,
And gloriously enlightens my dark earth.
My Soul is ravish'd with this joyful sight,
Yea, and dissolv'd with love and true delight:
My heart is melted with Cœlestial fire,
And has obtain'd at length it's own desire,
My frozen Soul must needs run down amain,
Which such hot beams from Jesus doth obtain:
The door is open'd, Christ has giv'n a knock
Has made it fly and has dissolved the rock.
My heart which was so hard is made to yield,
Christ has o'recome me now and won the field.
The War is ceas'd between the Lord and I,
A Peace is made to all Eternity.
What joy is this! Ah, 'tis beyond all measure.
There's nothing like to inward joy and pleasure.
As was my burden, so I find my rest,
O that was great! and this can't be exprest.
What heart can taste of these transcendent joys,
And not account Earth's pleasures empty toys!
Such is the nature of a second birth.
Makes Heav'n on Earth, turns sorrow into mirth.
Once was I blind, senseless, bewitch'd, nay, mad;
I thought in Christ no comfort could be had,
Religion was, I thought, a foolish thing,
Which could no pleasure nor no profit bring.
I thought Professors greatly were misled,
When I beheld what things they suffered:
But I am now convinc'd of my mistake,
For I my self could, For Christ Jesus sake,
Any derision or Affliction bear,
Such inward peace in him, and joy is there,
What man would not all earthly glory slight,
For one small dram, or taste of such delight?
To have Christ's Love, and in his bosom lie,
Yields true content, and sweet felicitie.
Ah happy I, I live! my Soul's involv'd,
In secret raptures, sighs to be dissolv'd,
And be with Christ my home and resting-place,
For to injoy and see him face to face.
And in the int'rim, Lord, whilst here I stay,
I faithfully will do what thou dost say.
And help me Lord, thy praise for to declare
Unto all precious Children far and near.
O help me to lift up my voice on high!
Let joyfull Hallelujahs pierce the sky.
And eccho back again, resound on Earth,
Since thou hast wrought in me the second birth:
Let me with the Cœlestial Angels sing,
And make thy Praises round the world to ring!
Thou'st brought my Soul out of the lowest Pit,
And in the paths of Sion set my feet!
Thou hast from Darkness brought me into Light,
And to mine eyes thou hast restored sight!
Nay, hast my Soul sav'd from Eternal death,
And shall not I thy praises, Lord, sing forth?
O let my tongue, my heart, and life make known
The favour, Lord, which to me thou hast shown!
Let me aloft, by thy blest Grace, aspire
To sound thy praise with the Cœlestial Quire.
With swift wing'd Cherubims, Lord, let me joyn,
To magnifie that glorious Name of thine
Let not remainders of the flesh disturb
My precious peace that's new: O do thou curb,
Yea, kill and crucifie each evil thought,
With vengeance let those Rebels down be brought,
And let me on the Earth live all my days
Unto thy Glory and transcendent praise.
And then, great God, when these short days are o're
With Seraphims I'le sing for evermore.

Truth.
What Melody and Triumph do I hear?
Whose voice is this that soundeth in mine ear?
What Eagle-ey'd Soul's this that soars on high,
That with swift wings aloft doth mount and fly;
And in Eternal Love seems to lie down,
Adorn'd with Grace, and ravish'd with the Crown
of inward Peace? that taketh up its rest
At Jesus Christ's sweet satisfying breast,
And breaking forth in raptures, can't express,
As he would do, his humble thankfulness?

Youth.
'Tis I, blest Truth, the Conquest now is won,
Grace has prevail'd, I am the conquer'd one:
My grief is turn'd to joy, yea and my night
Is also chang'd into Eternal Light.
Thy power's great, when Grace doth work with thee,
Yea soon do then obtain the victory.
Blest be the day that ever thou wast sent,
To change my heart, and move me to repent!
Dear love to thee, O Truth, I shall retain
So long as I upon the Earth remain.
I'le keep thee close, and hide thee in my heart,
For thou more precious than rich jewels art.
I'le lose my All before I'le part with thee,
So much I love and prize thy company.
Though Satan stir up foes never so cruel,
Devils nor Men shall rob me of this Jewel.
I am resolv'd a thousand deaths to dy,
Before I will God's blessed Truth deny.
Though of Deceivers there's a multitude,
Yet none of them shall my poor Soul delude.
Though they do thee reproach, slight and contemn
I by Exper'ence can refute all them,
Who say thy words nought but dead letters are,
Which men may burn, or into pieces tare:
The out-side of the Book they only see,
Who thus do speak reproachfully of thee:
For did they but thy inward power know,
They'd never speak, as oftentimes they do:
But soon they would God's written Word extol,
Above that Light which they cry up in all.
The Light which Conscience unto me doth give,
I'le alwayes own as long as I do live,
But from God's Word doth its chief light descend;
Therefore the Holy Scriptures I'le commend:
For had we not God's Word to light our hearts,
The Heathens which do live in Forreign parts,
Who never heard of Christ, might understand
As much as any do in this our Land:
Alas! we should have been unto this day,
In all respects as Ignorant as they.
But I'le forbear, because I must with speed
Attend upon God's Truth with care and heed,
To hear what he will say; O Truth wilt thou
Concerning me shew forth thy Judgment now
I do intreat thee prove me thoroughly,
For still I do retain a jealousie
Over my heart, because that I have seen
How I deceived oftentimes have been.

Truth.
Conscience, to thee I must once more descend,
The Controversie thou alone must end:
How is it with him now? what dost thou say?
Hast any thing unto his Charge to lay?
Remember what I formerly have shown,
And let thy present thoughts with speed be known.

Conscience.
I always ready am Judgment to give,
According to the Light I do receive,
And never was more free than now am I
My thoughts to shew; your suit I can't deny.
O Sir! the case is chang'd; I am his Friend,
His sweet Condition I must needs commend.
Grace has subdu'd corruption in his heart,
That he's made clean, and wash'd in every part,
My testimony you may take for truth,
He's now become a very humble Youth;
He's truly Godly, Faithful, and Sincere,
I do for him, and shall my witness bear:
All kind of Evil doth his Soul defie,
He hates above all things Hypocrisie:
VVill and Affections now are changed quite,
That in the Lord alone is his delight.
There's no Commands of Christ, not any one
That he's convinced of, but he has done:
He faithfully also the Lord obeys,
VVithout excuses, put offs, or delays,
He grieveth most for sins that secret are,
VVhich unto men do not i'th' least appear.
He's more in substance than he is in show,
VVhen high'st in joy, his heart is very low.
All his own Righteousness he doth disown,
And does rely on Jesus Christ alone.
Christ is become so precious in his sight,
He's first with him i'th' morn, and last at night.
He willingly has taken up the Cross,
And doth account what e're is his but dross;
And parts with it most freely, Christ to gain,
Since he hath found Earth's best injoyments vain.
Christ he exalts as King i'th' high'st degree,
And gives each Office its full dignitie.
He uses me also most tenderly,
Because he knows that my Authority
Is from above, it is for Jesus sake
He sides with me, and doth resolve to take
My part always, what e're he doth sustain,
He'l rather suffer than wound me again.
Christ has in me set up his blessed Throne,
And over me no other King he'l own:
Christ must alone in me the Scepter sway,
And he will die before he'l give away
Christ's Right and Soveraignty in his dear Soul.
He is resolv'd to suffer no controul,
In things alone which to me appertain,
Fear lest thereby Christ's Glory he should stain.

Truth.
Oh! happy young-man! blessed from above,
Blessed with Grace, and ravisht with the love
Of thy Eternal Lord, in whose sweet breast
Thou now dost lie, and evermore shalt rest.
Thy Honor's lasting, now it can't decay,
Thy treasure's sure, thieves cannot steal't away:
Thy Pleasures are beyond thought or conceit,
And thy rare Beauty is without deceit.
Thy Strength, thy Wisdom, nor thy Youth shall fade,
Nor canst thou die, thou art immortal made.
Eternal Life is given unto thee,
And thou shalt reign to all Eternitie.

Vicinus.
There's none on Earth is able to express,
The inward peace this Young-man doth possess;
Whilst to his joy, he clearly doth espy
This blessed Concord, and rare Harmony:
Conscience and Truth most sweetly do agree,
He's free'd from Bondage and Captivitie.
Christ's Spirit doth with Conscience witness bear,
He's born of God, and is become an Heir
(With his dear Saviour) of Eternal bliss:
What Consolation can there be like this?
But whilst thus fill'd with joy and true delight,
The Devil falls on him with all his might;
With strong assaults, his Faith for to destroy,
Which much abates, and mitigates his joy:
But Satan failing in his Enterprize
In one respect, another way he tries;
And with malicious threats he breaketh forth,
Spitting his venome and his hellish wrath:
Which in some measure may to you appear,
By what immediately doth follow here.

Devil.
Heark, heark, thou cursed wretch, vengeance is mine,
And I'le repay't upon that Soul of thine;
In dreadful wrath I will contend with thee,
If thou wilt not again submit to me.
Will not my shining Glory thee invite,
Nor all my Agents fell thy Soul affright,
To leave those cursed ways in which you go?
Then I'le some way contrive your overthrow.
Though out of your Dominions I am beat,
And forced am at present to Retreat;
Yet I'le return like to a Lion strong,
And break thy bones in pieces ere't be long.

Youth.
Father of Lyes, do'st think I dread thy frown,
'Tis past thy skill to throw my Glory down;
Thy head is broke, thou art a beaten Foe,
And chained up; alas! thou canst not do
According to thy wrath and cursed spight,
Christ's Pow'r is mine, who stronger is in Might;
Me he'l not leave, though tempted am by thee,
Yet he knows how to help and succour me.
What matter is't although thou art inraged,
When the great Pow'r of Heaven is ingaged
To side with me always, and take my part:
Though thou a Lion and a Serpent art,
Yet may'st as soon the Lord of Life o'recome,
As to produce or work my final Doom,
So long as I do for his Glory stand,
And am obedient to his blest Command.

Devil.
But I have so much craft and subtilty,
That I can make the Lord thine Enemy;
Though thou do'st think he is become thy Friend,
I'le by temptation move thee to offend
Him ere't be long; and soon you will espy
In's anger you he'l cast off utterly:
And then I'le tear and rend you as I list,
And you shall have no power to resist.

Youth.
God has bestow'd on me his precious Grace,
That I abhor the thoughts of giving place
To thee, O Satan, though thou dost entice;
God will preserve my Soul from deadly vice:
But if through weakness him I should offend,
In bowels he'l to me his Pardon send.
Christ is my Advocate; God will pass by
All sins of VVeakness and Infirmity.
Although he use the Rod, his precious Love
I'm sure from me he never will remove.

Devil.
Your hopes will fail, alas! black clouds will hide
Your glorious Sun, your steps will quickly slide:
Your morning's bright, but soon 'twill over-cast,
And all your joy will scarce a moment last.
Though Truth doth now thy present state commend,
Yet you will find the Proverb true i'th' end,
That the young Saint will an old Devil be:
You'l die and perish in Apostasie.

Youth.
'Cause thou hast lost thy former happy state,
With malice thou stir'st up thy bitter hate
Against my Soul, thou shew'st thy wicked spight,
But thy vile teeth are broke, thou canst not bite.
Thou dost on me cast forth an envious frown,
Because thou hast for ever lost thy Crown.
Because thy morning's turned into night,
Dost think thou shalt my Soul amaze and fright
With such insnaring thoughts? I thee defie;
Nothing can break that blessed Band and Tie,
Or Covenant which Christ with me has made,
My standing's firm, my Crown can never fade.
He that has in my Soul this work begun,
Will finish it I'me sure e're he has done.
There's ne're a Lamb or Sheep of his dear fold,
But he will keep, he has of them such hold,
That in the midst of danger they shall stand,
And none shall pluck them out of his strong hand:
They by his Pow'r are kept in ev'ry Nation,
'Till they are safely brought unto Salvation.
Upon the Rock of Ages I am placed,
And my foundation never can be razed;
Though Mountains should depart, & Hills remove,
Yet Christ will never change in his dear Love.
Nor cause his Covenant of lasting peace
To be remov'd, nor his sweet Mercy cease.
The Truth and Conscience both joyntly agree,
That the new-birth is truly wrought in me.
Th'Immortal Seed I'me sure must needs bring forth
A Babe Immortal; and my Heav'nly birth
Doth shew to all, and clearly signifie,
I cannot perish in Apostasie.
The Head and Members of one Nature are,
Or else Christ's Body a strange Monster were.
As sure as he's in Heaven, so shall I,
And reign with him to all Eternity.

Devil.
My words I see no place at all can find
Within the Center of thy evil mind:
I'le leave thee therefore with my dreadful Curse,
Which is as bad as Hell, nay, it is worse
Than all the Plagues of the infernal Lake;
And let all those who love me, vengeance take
Upon so vile a Wretch: and though I do
Forsake thee now, within a day or two
I'le come again, and will thy Soul torment,
Till thou of thy Repentance shalt Repent

Youth.
O Lord, I praise thee for that glorious Pow'r,
Which helpt my Soul in such a needful hour
Of strong assaults from the vile wicked one;
Thou help'st me to resist him, and he's gone.
Therefore, dear God, be pleased to inflame
My heart with Grace to magnifie thy Name:
And when he comes again, O then be near,
And let thy Truth also for me appear:
Though I am young and weak, I shall thereby
Not fear th'assaults of any Enemy.
Come, speak, O Truth, wilt still be on my side?
'Tis in thy strength I very much confide.
Though I am feeble, thou art mighty strong;
And whilst for me, there's none can do me wrong.

Truth.
I will, dear Soul, support thee whilst on Earth,
And save thee from the rage of Hell and Death:
I will assist thee by a mighty Arm,
And keep thee day and night from hurt and harm;
And with my glitt'ring Sword cut down and slay
All cursed Enemies who thee gain-say.

Grace.
If Truth should fail, I will thy wants supply,
Thou need'st not doubt of my sufficiency.
Light I will be in Darkness, Joy in Grief,
And when in Trouble great, I'le bring Relief.
If always thou dost on my Arm rely,
The Devil will be forc'd with speed to fly.
Never on me did any Soul depend,
But they obtain'd Deliv'rance in the end.
I'l help thy Soul through all its Christian strife,
And bring thee safe to Everlasting Life.

Conscience.
I'le be the third that will lend thee an hand,
Wee'l all combine to make a triple band.
A threefold Cord can't eas'ly broken be,
I'le be a Friend in thine Adversitie.
There's not a Foe on Earth thou needst to fear,
So long as I for thee my witness bear,
That thou in Truth dost walk before the Lord,
And that thy ways do with his Word accord;
The evil Foe will be ashamed quite,
VVhilst faithfully thou walk'st up to thy Light;
And Satan never can get any ground,
VVhilst I declare thy heart is truly sound,
Clear up, poor Soul, I'le feast thee constantly,
And plead for thee before the Enemy.
My sweetest wine also I'le keep to th'end,
At death I will thy Soul with that befriend.
God's VVord that is thy ground in every thing,
His Glory is thy aim, from thence doth spring
All service thou dost do towards the Lord,
His Spirit therefore to thee he'l afford;
That doth bear witness for thee, so do I,
And will also when thou do'st come to dy.

The Young man Experiencing Conversion truly wrought in his Soul, and that he's delivered from the Power of the Tempter, breaks forth into these following Hymns of Prayer and Praises to God.

Hymns and Spiritual Songs.

A Mystical Hymn of Thanksgiving.

The Excellency of Peace of Conscience.

An Hymn on the Six Principles of Christ's Doctrine. Heb. 6, 1, 2.

A Spritual Hymn.

Divine Breathings.

A Hymn.

AN APPENDIX Containing a Dialogue between an old Apostate, and young Professor.

Apostat.
How many straights and crosses have I met,
Since I my self to seek for Canaan set!
Red Seas and Wildernesses lye between;
Why venture I for what I ne'r have seen?
Why can I not where I am Remain?
Or to my old delights turn back again.
My head has been perplext with cares and fears,
Since to these Preachers I inclin'd mine ears.
They were but fancies that disturb'd my mind,
I sought for something which I could not find.
Would God in Egypt I had still remain'd,
For there's no Canaan likely to be gain'd.
Conscience be silent, don't disturb me more
Upon such things, I will no longer pore,
For back to Egypt I will now retire
Where I shall have things to my hearts desire.

Devil.
Pursue thy purpose, thou shalt understand,
What e're I have shall be at thy command:
My Kingdom's great, this world is wholly mine,
Bow down to me, and all shall then be thine.
Afraid I was I should have lost thee quite.
There's nought like that which here's now in thy sight.
Behold the Bags of Gold which thou shalt have,
Honours on earth, riches and pleasures brave,
When others forc'd in Prison are to lye;
Thou shalt enjoy thy precious liberty,
When Kings and Princes do upon them frown,
Thou shalt be held in honour and renown.
Thou hast much goods laid up for many years,
And long shalt live free from all cares and fears.
Thy Seed establish'd too shall be on earth,
And thou shalt spend thy days in joy and mirth,
Thoughts of Religion utterly disdain,
Nor think of God, or Jesus Christ again,
Phanatick fables never more regard,
The pains of Hell of which thou oft hast heard,
Are nought save fictions of their crasy head,
With fear of nothing are they frightened,
That mad men like, they do tread under feet
Those lovely joys which wisemen find most sweet.
Religion's nought but a devised thing,
Which up at first some crafty head did bring
To awe the minds of fools, who wanting wit,
Take that for Gold that's mere counterfeit.
The truth of th'Scripture thou hast cause to doubt,
For divers places thou may'st soon find out
Which inconsistent to each other be,
Of what it speaks there is no certainty.
Conclude in Truth there is no God at all,
Why should'st thou be so foolish as to call
On him, whom thou did'st never see or know,
Unless its thus; because that most do so.
Let Melancholy fancies now therefore,
Ne're vex thy mind, nor grieve thee any more.
Enjoy thy self on Earth, and heap up Gold,
No good like that which purse and bags do hold.
Come eat and drink, to morrow thou must die;
And afterwards there's no Eternity
As some suppose, for thou i'th' grave shalt rot,
And as the Beast be utterly forgot:
But since you know it is reproach to them,
Who all Religion utterly contemn.
Thou may'st Religious also seem to be,
For there is one that's very fit for thee.
Melodious sounds, sweet mirth, and Musick rare,
Do much affect the heart, and charm the ear.
No worship on the Earth doth suit so well
With flesh or blood, or doth for ease excell,
Or with man's interest doth so well agree,
Like what's maintain'd in famous Italy.
That, that's the worship which for thee I pick,
I'me not against thy turning Catholick.
If there's a Heaven, of this thou need'st not doubt,
An easier way for thee I can't find out.
The way's so broad, whole Nations walk therein,
And persons of all sorts, no let is sin.
Wer't thou at Rome, thou'st hear melodious sounds
Sweet joys and mirth on every side abounds:
Fine boys and men ravishing notes do sing
Whil'st Organs play in Consort, and Bells ring;
In that brave way thou'lt have thy liberty
To do such things as others do deny.
Thou may'st be mad, carouse, and domineer,
Strict Roman Catholicks such things can bear;
If thou dost swear, drink healths, yea, or should'st curse
There's few i'th' Church would like thee e're the worse.
Or if thou should'st some curious Lady spy,
Or view some pretty Maid with wanton eye,
To court or play with her thou need'st not fear,
For Venial sins alas all such things are;
And one great help and remedy thou'lt have,
Which from all grief and danger will thee save;
If it fall out by chance at any time
Thou shoul'st commit some great and hainous crime,
There is straight-way the blessed Absolution,
A present help, and yet no superstition.
For a small sum of mony soon is had
A pardon for all sins, though ne'r so bad.
His Holiness for a few shillings can
Murder and Perjury forgive to man;
Nay unto thee can grant a Dispensation
To kill and murder any in a Nation;
Who us and th'Holy Church hate and oppose,
Come trouble not thy self, but straight-way close
With this fam'd Church to whom such power's given
To ope and shut with ease the Gates of Heaven.
And make that sin to day which ne'r was sin,
And that lawful, which lawful ne'r hath bin.
Come buy thee Beads and Crucifix also,
And as the Church believes, believe thou too.
For this I hope to see o're a few days,
Some thousands more cleaving to those old ways,
And thou wilt not such an advantage gain,
As now thou may'st with ease I am sure obtain.
And since in kindness and affection dear,
I've shew'd thee how to be preferred here.
And do engage thy faithful friend to be:
There's some small thing I'd have thee do for me;
Speak evil of the way thou late wast in,
Believe them all, and charge them too with sin.
Their faults lay ope, let nought at all be hid,
Revile, reproach, and slander in my stead:
Shew how they differ, that they can't agree,
There's little love, and want of Charitie.
Of Canaan-Land ruise thou an ill report,
To turn them back who are a going for't
One thing at present I would have thee do,
There is a friend of mine which thou dost know,
VVho hath a Son which is indeed his Heir,
That to these foolish Notions doth adhere,
If he should visit thee, whith speed do thou
Treat with the peevish youth, I'le teach thee how
To controvert the cause, my place supply,
And do what I could not do formerly.
His forward zeal will do my Kingdom wrong,
Cause others also in that way to throng.
And you shall also some derision bear
Through his hot zeal, if that you ha'nt a care.

Vicinus.
The thoughts, which Satan darts into his mind,
He closeth with, and fully is inclin'd
His Counsel for to take, what e're become
Of his poor Soul at the great day of Doom.
An Atheist he's become in heart and life,
And hath abandon'd all his Christian strife.
He's ready now, and fit for any evil,
An instrument prepared for the Devil.
But since the Gentleman and he are met,
I will give way, and hearken how they treat
About this youth, that has of late begun,
Resolvedly to Heaven for to run.
You'l hear how this Apostate will ingage,
To turn him from his blessed Pilgrimage.

Apostate.
What my old Friend E.R. Sir, I am glad
To see you once again, yet I am sad,
And grieved sore to see you look so ill;
What evil Sir, I pray, has you befel?
What is the cause of this your present grief?
If I can give, or help you to relief,
Or comfort you i'th' least, I willing am,
And shall rejoyce, also I hither came.

Gent.
Ah Sir, my Son, my Heir, doth grieve my mind,
He from whom I most comfort hop'd to find,
Contrariwise will prove a plague to me,
Unless he can with speed recover'd be.
He'l be a Preacher I do think e're long,
He's such a Bookish-fool, and so headstrong,
That I have little hopes he'l e're be good;
Here's cause of grief if rightly understood.
He is become such a vile Heretick,
That Rome's good Church, and the true Catholick.
Most vilely, I perceive, he doth disdain,
And doth, forsooth, tell me he's born again,
I do beseech you Sir, do what you can,
If you can't change his mind, there's not a man
I think, in truth, that ever prevail will;
O arm your self therefore, and try your skill;
If you can turn him from these waies, then!
Shall be ingag'd to you until I die.
You were deceiv'd your self some time ago,
And therefore now more able are to show
The vanity of these devised waies,
And Bookish-fables of these silly daies.
Having the Scripture in our Mother tongue
Has been the ruin of us all along:
For, since men did our holy Church forsake,
And up new notions of Religion take,
Nought but confusion in the VVorld we see,
And otherwise, in truth, 'twill never be
Until their Books i'th' fire all do burn,
And they unto the Ancient Church do turn.

Apostate.
I am good Sir of that opinion too,
And sorry am to hear what now you do
Relate to me, and will also in truth
Do what I can to turn that silly youth;
For I can shew and make him understand
The danger that attends on ev'ry hand.
The hopes of unseen things will him deceive,
And Faith's but a meer fancy I believe:
That's the chief good which man doth here enjoy,
And that's the evil which doth him annoy,
Or doth deprive him of this joy and bliss,
None but Phanaticks will deny me this;
Who boast of that they never did possess;
They lie alas, and are (in truth) no less
Than frantick fools, for I could never see
Of what they speak, there's any certainty.
I will therefore endeavour out of love,
Your Son from these delusions to remove:
And since I do perceive he's neer at hand,
I'le take my leave,
Your Servant to Command.

Attend kind friend, read with a serious eye
And thou shalt a sharp Conflict soon espy
Between a man quite void of godly fear,
And a dear youth most holy and sincere.
The one affirms all godliness is vain,
The other counts it for the greatest gain.
Mark thou the end of both, and thou shalt see
Whats best to chuse, Grace or Iniquitie.
Apostate.
Well met, good Sir, from whence pray did you come?

Professor.
I am a stranger, and am Trav'ling home.

Apostate.
Are you a stranger in this Countery,

Professor.
Yea, as were all our Fathers formerly.

Apostate.
But from whence came ye? let's confer together.

Professor.
From Egypt Sir, Apost. I am Trav'ling thither,

Apostate.
What is your business, Sir, that thus in pain
You strive against the wind with might and main?
E're further you do go, sit down, account,
See whether that you run for will surmount
The labour great, and loss you will sustain,
Before the price in Truth ye do obtain.
What place is it to which you think to go,
That to advise you I may fully know?
For good instruction to you I'le afford,
When I this thing from you have plainly heard.

Professor.
I am for Canaan that most Holy Land,
I'le travel thither as God doth command,
Whose worth and value I do know full well,
For Riches it doth far all things excell.
And though all things I lose e're I come there,
'Twill all my losses I am sure repair.
The worth of that therefore for which I run,
I did account before I first begun.

Apostate.
Know you of certain, the place is so rare,
You may mistake, for you were never there.

Professor.
Ah Sir, of it I have a glorious sight,
Which doth my Soul transcendently delight,
Although in person there I ne'r have been,
Yet I most plain sweet Canaan oft have seen:
Besides, I lately spoke with a dear friend,
Who did the other day from thence descend;
And unto me its glory he did show,
Its precious worth from thence I came to know:
Some of its fruits also to me he gave,
Which makes me long till I possession have.

Apostate.
Is't not the fancy of thy crasy-head?
I have likewise of such a Canaan read;
It may be so, or so it may not be,
It ne'r seem'd real truly unto me.
Who would for things which so uncertain are,
Such losses suffer, and such labour bear.
A Bird i'th' hand's worth two i'th' bush, ye know,
This Zeal (poor Lad) will work thy overthrow.

Professor.
You vainly talk, and live by sight and sense,
I walk by faith, which is the evidence
Of things not seen, here with an outward eye.
What thou see'st not I clearly do espy.
'Tis not the fancy of a crasy-brain,
For Moses that its glory he might gain,
All Egypts Treasures quickly did forego,
Was that the way unto his overthrow?
No, no, dear Sir, he saw it was the way
To peace and honour in another day:
The glory real did his Soul behold,
To be so great, that never can be told.
If thou had'st drunk but of its glorious springs,
Thou would'st it prize above all earthly things.
If thou hadst tasted but of Canaans hony,
Thou would'st esteem it more than bags of mony.
Although I make, alas, a poor profession,
Yet I have now something in my possession.
Lock'd up most safe in my refreshed brest,
More rare than Pearls within a golden Chest.
True peace of conscience, that through grace I have
Which passeth all mens knowledge to conceive.
I would of it not be depriv'd again,
If that I might ten thousand worlds obtain.

Apostate.
Tush, silly Fool, kick Conscience quite away,
Ne'r mind his motions, nor what he doth say.
I stifl'd him, and that a good while since,
And took revenge for his proud Insolence.
His gasping groans I no ways did regard,
But let my heart against him grow so hard,
That I do judge I have his business done.
He's dead in truth and to dark silence gone;
That now I can, without the least controul,
Have any pleasures which delight my Soul

Professor.
Ah Sir, go on, if that's the choice ye make,
I never will such cursed Councel take.
Who ever doth his Conscience so abuse,
Doth his dear Maker in like manner use.
And though in you poor Conscience now lies slain
I'th' Judgment day he will revive again.
And then against you his sad witness bear,
And in your face most gastfully will stare.
You'l have the worst at last, I grieve to see
You hardned thus in your Iniquity.

Apos.
My sorrow's gone, but thine alas will double
Concerning me thy self do thou not trouble.
The storms and blust'ring winds are over past,
And very safe I am arriv'd at last,
In that same Port where Princes do delight
For to repose and harbour day and night.
Toss'd I have been upon the boysterous Seas,
And 'till of late ne'r could find rest nor ease.
But now I'm safely landed, and with good
Shall sated be, whil'st thou art toss'd i'th' flood.
Thou shalt poor youth with dreadful storms be
Whilst I shall find a very quiet world.
All thy best days are gone, and plung'd thou'lt be hurl'd,
Into sad Gulfes of woful miserie.
Unless thou dost recant, & stop thy course,
Thou'lt see things with thee will grow worse and worse.
Those fools who do their nicer Consc'ence mind,
E're long they shall but little friendship find.

Youth.
Sir, Storms and Tempests do I know attend,
Those who resolve poor Conscience to befriend.
Paul's Portion 'twas, who from his very youth,
Had kept good Conscience, and obey'd the truth.
He met with blustring winds, was toss'd about,
Yet did bear up for Canaan most devout,
'Till he at last the glorious Voyage made,
Getting the Crown which ne're away shall fade.
All those who sayl'd this way, have all all along,
Met with great opposition and much wrong
From Pyrats, Spoylers, and Usurpers, who
Contrived have the Righteous to undo.
This terrifies me not, because that I
Know 'tis the way to true Felicity.
The gold and precious things the Merchant gains,
Do quit his cost, and recompence his pains.
The Riches which he brings at his return,
Makes him great dangers often-times to run.
So hopes of joys, the which Cœlestial are,
Makes me no labour nor no cost to spare.
You are for present things, I further see;
You are for Earth, but Heaven is for me.
You are for pleasures, and for bags of Gold,
I am for that which Moses did behold.
You are for ease, whatever it doth cost,
And honours here, though Soul for it be lost.
VVho makes the wisest choice, let him declare,
Let Death and Judgment shew who wise men are.
My purpose I'le pursue what e're I meet,
My portion's great, my peace, no counterfeit.
Heaven is my Port, ther's such a place I'm sure,
Nought shall entice me nor my soul allure
To lose my hold, I'le keep firm in my station.
Though in my way I meet with tribulation.
Yet I most safe shall there at last arrive,
No men nor Devils ever shall deprive
My soul of that eternal dwelling place,
Such confidence I have obtain'd through grace.

Apostate.
If I should grant things which so doubtful are,
That there's a Canaan or a Heaven, where
Sweet joys abound beyond what's here below;
Yet hard it is for any man to know
The ready way unto that seeming place,
Consider this, Oh 'tis a weighty case!
For there so many ways and voices be,
How thou should find the right I do not see.
Thou art a stranger too, thou toldst, be plain,
Come come, young man, turn with me back again.

Youth.
Nothing (dear Sir) more certain is than this,
That there's a Heaven or eternal Bliss.
The Heathens could by Natures light espy,
Mans chiefest good or best Felicity.
Must needs excel the high'st enjoyments here,
And shall this doubtful unto those appear
Who have Gods works (most dreadfully made known
Yea and his word which very few or none
VVho live in any land the like have had;
Shall such turn Atheists? this is very sad.
Is not Jehovah every where made known
By fearful Judgments, which are dayly shown
And why think you I can't the true way find,
Seeing Jesus has in writing left his mind
In plain Characters, which whilst I observe,
I from the truth am sure no ways to swerve.
He came from thence himself the other day,
And gave directions how to find the way.
This writing's firm, 'tis signed with his blood,
That the old dragon, with his mighty flood,
Of superstition, and persecuting fire,
Could not it spoil nor gain his curst desire.
The holy Scripture God to us hath given,
To guide our souls in the right way to Heaven.
Though Satan has made opposition strong.
Yet still we have it in our mother tongue.
And by this means, most plain I come to know,
The very foot steps where the flock did go.

Apostate.
Though you of Scripture seem to make your boast,
Your hopes of this will suddenly be lost.
For you much longer it an't like to have,
Your souls and others thus for to deceive.
For holy Church once more will quite destroy
This English God, which they seem to enjoy.
Thou art unlearn'd, the Scriptures dost not know,
But wrestest them unto thy overthrow.

Youth.
They are unlearn'd, whom God has never taught,
But have in Popish darkness up been brought.
They are unlearn'd, who never had the Spirit,
Who think they can by Works salvation merit.
They are unlearn'd, who foolishly deny
The Spirits Teachings and Authority.
For to excell all humane Arts and Science,
And on man's teaching wholly have reliance.
They are unlearn'd, or very poorly read,
That teach Christ Jesus is a piece of Bread,
Which Rats and Mice may eat, and vomit up,
And do deny the Layety the Cup.
For those for whom Christ did his Body break
He of the Cup did bid them all partake.
They are unlearn'd, who think that Purgatory,
Can be ought else than a meer fained Story.
They are unlearn'd, whose Doctrine doth declare
The Church two heads doth on its shoulders bear.
That Woman which hath any Husbands more
Than only one, is a notorious Whore.
That man's unlearn'd, who learned never hath
The A B C of the true Christian Faith.
That man I grant is wholly yet unlearn'd,
Who never knew himself, nor yet discern'd
The cursed nature of his hainous sin,
Nor what estate by nature he is in.
That man's unlearn'd who never went to School,
To learn for Christ how to become a Fool.
That man's unlearn'd, yea, and a very Sot,
VVho hath his soul and Jesus Christ forgot.
And doth esteem earths empty vanity,
Above that good which Saints in God espy.
I am unlearn'd, and yet have learned how
To crucifie the flesh, yea, and to bow
To Jesus Christ, and for his precious sake,
His yoak and burden willingly to take.
And follow him where ever he doth go,
And him alone determine for to know.
VVho for my sake upon the Cross did dye,
Him I have learn'd alone to magnifie.
And to exalt him as he's Priest and King,
And as my Prophet too in every thing.
And this through grace I learned have of late,
To be content whatever be my state.
Some things I must confess I ne'r could learn,
Nor any ways perceive, see, or discern.
I never read of Peters tripple Crown,
Nor that he ever wore a Popish Gown.
I never learn'd that he did Pope become,
Or Rule o're Kings like to the beast at Rome.
I never learn'd that he kept Concubins,
Or ever power had to pardon sins.
I never learn'd he granted dispensations,
To poyson Kings, or Rulers of those Nations.
VVho were prophane or turned hereticks,
Or did refuse the Faith of Catholicks.
I never learn'd he was the Churches head,
Or did forbid the Clergy for to wed.
I never read that he had Chests of Gold,
Or that great Benefits by him were sold.
I never read he's call'd his Holiness,
Yet had as much as any Pope I ghess.
I never learn'd Peter did magnifie
Himself above all Gods, or God on high.
Or that upon the neck of Kings he trod,
Or ever he in Cloth of Gold was clad.
I never read that he made Laws to burn
Such as were hereticks, or would not turn
To Jesus Christ, much less to Murder those,
Who did in Truth Idolatry oppose.
I never learn'd, nor could unto this day,
That th'Pope and Peter walk'd both in one way:
Yea, or that they in any thing accord
Save only in denying of the Lord.
In that they also greatly differ do,
Of which I think to give a hint or two.
Peter deny'd him, yet did love him dear,
The Pope denies him, and doth hatred bear
To him, and to all those that him do love.
VVho bear his Image, and are from above.
Peter deny'd him, and did weep amain,
The Pope denies him with the great'st disdain.
Peter deny'd him, yet for him did die,
The Pope in malice him doth crucifie.
Peter deny'd him thrice, and then repented,
The Pope a thousand times, but ne'r relented.
Peter and John no mighty Scholars were,
Yet few for knowledge might with them compare.
Poor Fisher-men do find the way to Heaven,
When Scholars go astray, who Arts have seven.
The Learned Schoolmen put our Lord to Death,
And very few of such Christ called hath.
But poor despised persons he doth call,
And passeth by the high-flown Cardinal.
For humane learning, and such kind of Preaching,
Is nothing to the blessed Spirits teaching.
I learning like, and grant that men may use it,
Yet would I not have them for to abuse it.

Apostate.
Leave off these canting strains, and don't deride
Our holy Father, for I can't abide
To hear such prating Fools. Are you so wise?
Dare you the holy Mother Church despise?
'Tis that Religion I like best of all.
The Pope I do adore and Cardinal.
There's Pomp and Riches, and a worldly glory,
What you talk of, is an unpleasant story.
There's Pleasure, profit, safety and much ease,
Which doth the flesh as well as spirit please.
Here's Heaven and Earth, what can'st thou more desire,
Or of thy God, or any man require?
Thy way th'hast lost, and Canaan wilt not see,
Therefore with speed turn back again with me.

Professor.
Could I no other reason give or urge
To prove Romes Church untrue, I can't but judge,
This which you speak, doth plainly it declare,
For in Christs Church no such vain pomps appear
No worldly glory doth Christs Church adorn,
For she's afflicted, much despis'd and torn.
Her beauty can't with outward eyes be seen,
Her beauty and her glory are within.
When John sets forth the antichristian state,
Much outward pomp 'tis true he doth relate.
The Whore is deck'd with Gold, brave Stones and Pearl,
Who at poor Sion doth with envy snearl.
No liberty to th'flesh the Lord doth give.
Saints must alone after the Spirit live,
No serving God and Mammon, Sir 'tis plain,
To Hell you go except you'r born again.
If you'l be Christs, with speed then turn you must,
To crucifie the flesh with all it's lust.
No cause have I to fear to go astray,
Whilst I walk dayly in the narrow way.
All those who do Gods holy word contemn,
No light nor truth is there at all in them.
Their feet on the dark Mountains soon will fall,
And utter ruin will or'etake them all.
But as for me no cause have I to doubt,
But I shall find this blessed Canaan out.
To turn to Egypt with you back again,
The thoughts of it my soul doth much disdain.
Dost think I'le leave my Quails and Manna rare
For stinking Garlick, and base Onyons there?

Apostate.
For all your courage, Sir, I do suppose,
You will repent that ever you have chose,
To leave the comforts of a precious World,
And with fond zeal thus blindly to be hurl'd.
You are a man that might advanced be,
Unto great Honour, State, and Dignity.
Your Father's Master of a good Estate,
And you too are his Heir, I hear of late.
But if you don't this new Religion leave,
One groat of him you are not like to have.

Professor.
This World in a just balance oft I try,
And find it lighter far than vanity.
Riches alas! they are but bags of cares,
And honors nought save fool-bewitching Snares.
Your outward joy will turned be to sadness,
Your pleasure into pain, your wisdom's madness.
You catch at nothing, 'tis at best a bubble,
Which longyou cannot keep although you double
Your diligence, and think to hold it fast,
'Twill fly with speed, 'tis but an empty blast.
What frantick fit is this? Will you destroy
Your higher hopes for such a fanci'd joy?
This world's just like th'Strumpet of whom I've read,
Who with sweet fumes inticeth to her bed.
With amorous glances promises a Bliss,
And hides destruction with a fained Kiss.
She has her tricks, and her ensnaring wiles,
But lodges death under deceitful smiles.
She huggs the Soul she hates, yea, and doth prove,
A very Judas where she fains to love.
Take heest therefore, lest you be catch'd i'th'snare,
And buy your late repentance much too dear.
These comforts here which you do precious call,
Each wise man sees they'r vain and flitting all.
To think I should repent, no cause is there,
If things by you rightly consid'red were.
What Moses chose of old, the same do I,
All vain allurements I do quite defie.
I knew when first my Journey I did take.
I must my Fathers house learn to forsake.
In Abraham's steps I am resolv'd to go,
What ever I exposed am unto.
What e're I lose, Christ will mak't up to me,
When I of Canaan shall possessed be.
I seek no honour here from any one,
True honour comes (dear Sir) from God alone.
To be an Heir unto a great Estate,
Or Son unto some earthly Potentate,
Is nought to what by grace I am born to.
My Portion great, I know not how to show
I'm Heir unto the mighty King of Heaven,
To me, e're long, sweet Canaan will be given.
I do resolve to hold out to the end,
Although I han't one groat nor earthly Friend
To favour me: I never will return
Until this glorious Canaan I have wone.

Apostate.
What ground have you (my friend) for to believe
If you forsake all things, you shall receive
This land you speak of, for your own possession,
Unto your heart 'tis good to put this question.
For divers do unto great things lay claim,
Yet some oftimes I see, and sure I am,
Unto such lands can no good title show,
Although they strive for them as you may do,
If you should sell what e're you have for this,
And yet at last should also of it miss,
You'l see your self at length then quite undone.
Consider of't, and back with me return,
For no good title of it can be had,
'Twas this alas which once did make Me sad.
To save my own, I thought 'twas best for me,
Unless of this I could assured be.

Professor.
Don't think you shall my zeal for Heaven cool,
Nor my dear Soul with fancies thus befool.
Rouse up my Soul now in thy own defence,
And shew thy clear, thy precious evidence.
Can any thing be plainer here on earth,
'Twas purchas'd for me by Christ Jesus's death.
The father doth this Kingdom own, and he,
For his own child has late adopted me.
And if a child, I also am an heir
And shall with Jesus this like glory share.

Apostate.
How do you know you be his child? in this
You may mistake, and so may Canaan miss.

Professor.
My late conversion doth most plainly prove,
My inward birth is truly from above.
The Truth and Conscience both agree in one,
I am through grace no Bastard, but a Son.
Those whom God doth by his own Spirit lead,
They are his Sons, you in the Scripture read.
Besides all this, since I did first believe,
An earnest of this Land I did receive.
And divers promises also there be,
Which bind it firmly over unto me.
Is not my title unto heaven good.
When sign'd and seal'd to me by Christ his blood?
You see by these I have a certain ground,
And good assurance for Gods kingdom sound.
But you, as it appears, do quite dispair,
Without all hopes of ever coming there.

Apostate.
Nay stay a little, don't affirm that neither.
VVhy may not I as soon as you, come thither?
Though in that way, in which I late did walk,
I was deceiv'd with many other folk;
And thought that Heaven was entail'd to those
Which did the Pope and Church of Rome oppose.
Thinking a man a separate must be
From that same Church, or else could never see,
Finde, nor enjoy eternal peace and rest;
And therefore I, like others, did protest
Against that ancient mother Church whom now
I am resolv'd to own, yea, and to bow
Down unto her, with all humble subjection;
Thinking 'tis best for safety and protection,
Resolving never more to vex my mind
As I have done, for I shall sooner find
In this smooth way assurance for salvation,
Than if I had kept in my former station.
Hopes I may have, no certain ground I know
The Church affirms we can attain unto.
But promises most clear are made to those,
Who seek for the old way, and with it close:
And that Romes Church can plead antiquity:
No Protestant I'm sure can it deny:
Yea, and must grant, what ever's their profession
That none save Rome can prove their true succession
From those brave Churches which first planted were
By the Apostles, as their Acts declare.
And therefore youth, you must no longer boast
Of faith and confidence, for you have lost
Your way to Heaven, And must therefore look
Unto that Church which long has been forsook.
From the true Church to rend and schismatize,
Is a sad thing though many it despise
For though Corruption in the Church there be,
Yet all should walk in uniformitie.

Professor.
Sir, I deny your Churches constitution,
Which makes me loath you, and for your pollution,
Corruption, and vile spots, they are so bad,
No Church of Christ the like hath ever had;
Which I resolve fully to make appear
Before I'le leave you, if your pleas'd to hear.

Apostate.
Romes Church was rightly gather'd that's most clear,
Saint Paul himself to this doth witness bear.
Faith and Repentance truly did they own,
And were Baptized in due form 'tis known;
No Church in constitution right has been,
If that our Church i'th' least doth fail herein.

Professor.
Romes Church I grant was true i'th'Apostles days,
But yours from that doth differ many ways.
Romes Church was very famous heretofore,
But is become the Scarlet-colour'd Whore.
From the true Faith she hath departed quite,
And the true Church was forc't to take her flight
Into the dark and howling wilderness,
VVhere she lay hid in sore and great distress,
From the vile Beast, and Dragons furious rage,
And so remain'd until this latter age.
If Romes Church now were like unto the old,
Then with the Romanists we all would hold,
But when she is become Christs enemy,
God out of Babylon, doth bid us fly.
If you can prove Romes Church hath not declin'd,
From that Church-State by Paul himself defin'd,
Then you will undertake for to do more
Than any Papist ever did before.
The Jewish Church God once did own and love,
But for their sins he did them quite remove.
Out of his sight they'r broken for their sin,
VVith other Churches which have famous bin.
And yet do keep some outward form and show
Of VVorship, and Church-state as Rome may do.
VVho has in Truth nought left save a bare name,
As hath been clearly prov'd by men of fame.
If you should bring your Visibility.
To prove your Church is true, I do reply,
A better argument I need not bring
To prove you false, than that same very thing.
For the true Church was hid, did not appear
A thousand two hundred and sixty year.
And then whereas you in the second place
Mention Antiquity, 'tis a clear case.
Your Church is under age, yea much too young,
Out of th'Apostacy alas she sprung.
A bastard Church, base born, mere national,
And therefore that's for you no proof at all.
The fleshly seed i'th' Church must not be brought,
John Baptist and our Saviour both so taught.
Christs Church is gather'd by regeneration,
And not as 'twas i'th' former dispensation.
You in a lineal way do go about,
To take in those whom Jesus hath shut out.
The ax is now laid to the root o'th' tree,
And every one true penitent must be.
And must obtain of God true saving grace,
Who in his holy Church would have a place.
Your Church is not so gather'd, therefore I
Deny your Church and its antiquity;
That Church which is upheld by'th' carnal sword,
And not by th'power of Gods holy word.
Is very false, and that Romes Church is so,
Not a few worthy Authors plainly show.
And whereas she much boasts of holiness,
No people doubtless in the world have less;
For Rome like to a stinking common shore,
Receives what ev'ry one casts forth o'th' door.
She's like a cage of ev'ry hateful bird,
As is recorded in Gods sacred word.
The Councel which an ancient Author gave,
Let ev'ry soul with special care receive.
Ye that would holy live, from Rome be packing,
There's all things else, but Godliness is lacking.
She also doth Doctrines of Divels hold,
According as th'Apostle hath foretold.
In charging people to abstain from meat,
VVhich God alloweth us freely to eat.
And in denying persons for to wed,
Though God allow the undefiled bed.
By means of these most cursed prohibitions,
Your Clergy stinks alive with gross pollutions.
And many of your filthy Popes of Rome
Have Sodomites and Buggerers become;
Whoredom and Incest they have minc'd so small,
As scarce to count them any sin at all.
Most cursed Stews allowed are by them,
VVhom none i'th' Popedom dare i'th least condemn
Vile Necromancers many of them were,
Haters of God, no sin (in truth) is there;
But some o'th' Popes of it have guilty been,
As may upon Record be clearly seen.
Is this your holy Head and reverend Father,
Next unto Christ supream? Is he not rather
A Dev'l incarnate? the worst of mankind,
VVho can in Hell a viler sinner find?
Is Rome Christ's Church, Christ's Spouse, his only Love,
His undefiled one, and spotless dove?
Sir, do'nt mistake, she is that Scarlet Whore,
VVhom John characterized heretofore.
VVhich I shall full evince, and make appear,
If you with patience will but lend an ear.

Apostate.
I find you in reproaches free enough,
But shall expect you so too in your proof.
Those common Epithets of Beast and Whore,
Are daily flung at every bodies door.
But for to warrant your severer doom,
Prove that they properly belong to Rome.

Professor.
That truth Gods sacred word doth well explain,
That City which o're Kings of th'Earth did raign,
Was that same Whore, the spirit clear doth show;
And that Rome was that City all men know.
Who then above all others bore the sway,
'Twas Rome the Nations fear'd and did obey.
And still you Papists to her Bishops give
Headship o're all who on the earth do live,
Before him Kings and Emperors must submit,
That so he may the mighty Monarch sit.
Whilst absolute pow'r he claimes, and Sovereignty
Above all Princes by his Tyranny.
From whence all persons may conclude it true,
By their first Mark the title is his due.
The second Character of Babylon,
Is Pomp and State wherein she proudly shone,
That Rome has been a rich gay costly Whore,
England once found, I wish she may no more.
Infinite Sums almost she squeez'd from hence,
For pardons, obits, annates, Peter-pence.
And through each Land where she her triumphs led,
VVhole swarms of locusts, Priests and Friers were spread.
These (as the Janizaries to the Turk)
VVere faithful slaves still to promote her work.
VVhilst to maintain those drones she swept away,
The fat and wealth of Nations for their prey.
In the third place she doth mens Souls inslave,
This mark in Rome most evident we have.
VVith dangerous vows, unwarranted traditions,
Implicit faith, and thousand superstitions,
Pretended miracles, apparent lies,
Damnable Errors and fond fopperies.
She clogs the Conscience, and to make all well,
Boasts all her dictates are Infallible:
And then (to fill her measure) i'th' last place,
'Tis said she would Gods precious Sion race.
This can of none but Rome be understood,
That drunken whore, who reels in Martyrs blood.
As I more largely now shall make appear,
And then with patience your excuses hear.
VVithin the compass of six thousand years,
Has been presented to the eyes and ears,
Of future ages, the most sad contents
Of bloody tragedies, the dire events
Of dreadful wars, in sev'ral Generations,
The overthrow of many fruitful Nations.
But all comes short of Romes most bloody bill,
VVhich doth the earth with Sanguine volumes fill.
Jerusalem that City of renown,
Sack't by Vespasian, burnt and broken down.
It was indeed a dreadful desolation,
And so have conquerors dealt with many a Nation.
All Conqu'rors ever found a time to cease,
VVhen once they'd conquered then they were at peace
They murder'd not, but such as would not yield,
To own them for their Lords: and in the field.
They slew them too with weapons in their hand,
For their defence, and always ready stand
To give Quarter to those that it demand.
But this vile Strumpets blood-bedabbled hands
Finds not a period, never countermands
Her cruel rage, her murders know no end,
She slaughters when she pity doth pretend:
Years terminate not her blood-thirsty acts,
She slays without examining their facts.
In times of peace her treach'rous hands have shed,
Blood without measure: she hath murthered
By cursed Massacres her neighbours, when
They thought themselves the most secure of men.
One might fill volumes with her bloody story,
In which she still persists: Makes it her glory
T'invent strange torments to deprive the breath
Of Christians, by a tedious lingring death.
The brutish Nero first of Tyrant-Kings,
From whose base root nine other Tyrants springs.
Whose most inhumane acts, not to their glory,
Did leave the world a lamentable story.
And to their lasting and eternal shame,
Did purchase to themselves that hateful name
Of bloody Monsters in the shape of men,
VVhose cruel acts deserve an Iron pen.
That might perpetuate to after-times,
These Heathens cruelty record the crimes.
For which those Christians willingly laid down,
Their earthly houses for a heavenly Crown.
Reflect a while Sir, and but cast your eye,
First on those Heathen Emperors cruelty.
Then view the bloody Papists, and compare
Their cruelties together, and as far
As Egypts darkness did exceed our night,
Or midnight differs from the morning light,
So far the Papist's cruelty does exceed,
The worst of heathen Tyrants, and indeed
The worst of Tyrants, since the world began,
Or since dissention fell 'wixt man and man.
If Ciprian's and Eusebius words be true,
These persecuting Emp'rors yearly slew
Millions of souls, shedding their guiltless blood,
Which ran like waters from a mighty flood.
So void their hearts were of all humane pity,
They spar'd no age, nor sex, nor Town, nor City.
The things wherein these Christians did offend,
Were only this, they did refuse to bend,
Their Heaven-devoted knees, or fall before
Those Idol Gods these Emperors did adore.
They did believe one God created all,
They did believe in Christ, and down did fall
Prostrate upon the earth, and daily bring
Sacrifice only to that Heav'nly King.
Their Emperors Gods these Christians did deride,
This was the cause so many millions dy'd.
These Emperors thinking themselves ingag'd,
Their Idol to revenge, grew more inrag'd,
To see the Christians boldly to despise,
Their Gods, and honour Christ before their eyes:
They did conclude the nature of th'offence,
Deserv'd no less than death for recompence.
Thus may we plainly see a reason why
These Heathen Emp'rors use such cruelty.
'Twas not because they worshipt not aright,
But worshipt not at all, nay, did despight.
Unto these Idols which they Gods did call,
Affirming that they were no Gods at all.
An act not to be born by flesh and blood,
To have the Edicts of their Gods withstood.
Yet in the midst of all those Tyrants rage,
Serious advice a little would asswage
Their hellish fury, and for some time cease,
And give the Christians a breathing space.
And when as those ten Emperors ceast to be,
Then terminated all their cruelty.
Three hundred years accomplisht their fierce wrath
And then the heathens own'd the Christian faith.
And now their Emp'rors do as much adore
The God of Heaven and earth, as they before
Had done their Idols, and zealous for the Church,
Give great donations, make their Bishops rich.
And now proud Rome, since Constantine the great,
Thou by degrees hast taken up thy seat:
Puft up with riches, swoln with filthy pride,
From Gods pure laws hast quickly turn'd aside.
And now such Bishops only do'st thou chuse,
As God doth hate and utterly refuse:
Proud, sensual, and void of th'holy Spirit.
Such as the Lord hath said, shall not inherit.
Eternal Glory; such thy Bishops be,
Who shoul'd be fill'd with truth and purity.
Shining like lights before the flock, that they
The better might discern the perfect way.
But now instead of such as these, behold
They are presumpt'ous, proud, imperious bold.
Changing the worship that the Lord makes known,
And in its stead will introduce their own.
Yea so presumptious are they in their pride,
As to affirm Gods holy word's no guide
For men to walk by; the only rule that they
Do counsel men, nay force them to obey.
Is their traditions which th'affirm to be.
Far more authentick than our Lords decree,
VVithin his holy VVord he us hath given,
For a sure light to guide our steps to Heaven.
And now these Christians whose more tender heart
Dares not believe them, fearing to depart
From Gods directions, which in his blessed word
He hath so plainly left upon record
These are the men this wicked Strumpet hath
So often made the objects of her wrath.
Making the earth to drink the guiltless bloud,
Of such as for Gods holy VVord have stood.
Oh! Let the bloud-drunk earth ne're cease to cry
Unto the Heaven-enthroned Majesty,
'Till God take vengeance as he did on Cain,
For all the righteous Abels she hath slain.
Not for denying, but honouring the Lord,
Yea, for believing that his sacred word
Is the most perfect, and the truest guide,
The rule by which all doctrines should be tride.
Our blessed Lord bids search them, for faith he,
They are the words that testifie of me.
Lo here's the cause, behold the reason why,
The VVhore has acted so much cruelty.
Inhumane murthers doth this VVhore invent,
VVhereby she daily slays the innocent.
The numbers she hath murdered, do surmount
The strictest of Arithmeticks account.
VVhat Countrey hath not tasted of the Cup,
That her most bloudy hands have poured up.
How hath she stir'd up Nations to ingage
Against each other to satisfie her rage?
VVhere Millions have been brought unto the dust,
Only to satisfie this Strumpets lust?
That she the better might ingrose the power
Of Hell into her hands, and so devour
At her blood thirsty pleasure, such as she
Could not perswade to love Idolatry.
Perfideous France, whose most inhumane wrath,
Passing the limits of a Christian faith.
VVithin the space of eight and twenty days,
Thy bloody hands most treacherously betrays
Ten thousand souls, and to that bloudy score,
Ads quickly after twenty thousand more.
How many murders more that Popish Nation
Have done, the Romish Hist'ries make relation;
And yet from cruelty Rome has not ceast,
But as her years, her murders have increast:
And swoln to bigger numbers in less space,
As Bellarmine affirmeth to her face;
VVho thus attests, that from the morning light,
Until the Sable Curtains of the night
VVere closely drawn, her bloudy hands did slay,
A hundred thousand Souls, O! let that day
In Characters of bloud recorded be,
That may remain unto Eternity.
O let the Earth that drinketh in the rain,
That did receive the bloud of all the slain;
Let both the Heavens, and the Earth implore
The God of heaven to confound the VVhore.
O poor Bohemia, thou hast had a taste,
VVhen wicked Julian laid thy countrey waste.
Burning thy Towns and Villages with fire,
Sparing no young, nor old, nor Son, nor sire.
VVhat multitudes unnumbred were thy slain,
VVhich in the field unburied did remain!
Thou found'st the wolvish Popes in every age
Contrive thy ruin, many times ingage
Thy Neighbour Nations to shed forth thy blood,
Only because faithful Bohemia stood
For Gods pure worship. Martin the sixt excites
Emperors, Kings, Dukes, Barons, Earls and Knights,
VVith one consent to fall upon that Nation,
On no less terms than on their own Salvation;
Promising also upon that condition,
To give a full and absolute remission.
Unto the vilest sinner that e're stood
Upon the earth, that would but shed the blood,
Though but of one Bohemian; O rage!
Not to be parelled in any age.
Except that Monster, who did sore rebuke,
The over-charitable Popish Duke
Of De Alva, and would you know his crime,
It was because that he in six years time,
Through too much lenity, caus'd not the earth
To drink more Christians blood than issued forth
From eighteen thousand souls; for this, the Duke
Was thought by Papists worthy of rebuke.
Is eighteen thousand in six years so few?
In the account of your bloud thirsty crue,
Inhumanly to murther, yea indeed,
Because their former numbers did exceed.
But if the Duke of Alva's bloody bill,
Came short in numbers yet his hand did fill
It up with Torments, so dreadful to rehearse,
As that the very thoughts thereof would pierce
A Marble heart, make Infidels relent,
Torments that none but Devils could invent,
But if all this was over little still,
His predecessors added to the bill.
For from the time that hellish Inquisition,
Did from the Devil first receive commission.
As well approv'd History doth relate,
Till thirty years expired had their date;
By cruel torments which they still retain,
Was a hundred and fifty thousand slain.
And yet before they took away their breath,
They for some time did make each day a death.
Depriving them, as far as in them lay,
Of all th'comfort that either night or day
Affords mankind; for them their was not found,
So much Sun-light as to behold the ground
On which they stood: Each day that giveth light,
VVas unto them like Egypts darkest Night.
In hellish darkness thus they made them spend
Their weary hours, and kindly in the end
Destroyed them: the company they had
VVithin those darksome caverns, was their sad
And melancholy thoughts, their sighs and growns,
Their doleful lodgings was upon the stones.
If noysome creatures bred and fostred there,
These noysome creatures their companions were.
VVhat food they eat, was only to secure
Their souls alive, that so they might endure
The several torments that they did provide,
And so a hundred and fifty thousand di'd,
Beside what di'd by persecuting hands,
VVithin the Popes Confines in several lands.
Thus may I sooner spend my strength and tears,
And tire (if you regard) your eyes and ears,
Than give a full and absolute relation,
Of all the acts of Romes abomination.
Oh! May my native Countrey rather hear
Their bloody Acts, than in the least part bear
Her burthen, or behold her murdring hand,
Once more spread through the Confines of our land
But I perceive these truths are dully heard,
And that you little my discourse regard.

Apostate.
Yes, yes, I hear and smile, what Tragedies
You make of lawful just severities.
The Martyrs you applaud were Rebbels too,
And still against authority would goe.
If then they suffer'd, who pray is to blame?

Professor.
That I have shewn already to their shame.
And I would have my Country men to take
Another taste that may preserve awake
Their drousie Souls, who take a dying nap,
Much like deluded Sampson on the lap
Of lustful Dalila, whose treacherous breath,
Sends forth the Messenger of Sampsons death;
Let not the Strumpets sugred words, perswade
Thee to give credit t'her, that's been her trade
To promise fairest when she doth intend
To deal falsest, she doth betray her friend
Like wicked Cain, first of that sinful race,
That slew his Brother smiling in his face.
From the first time that e're the hellish rage
Of Jesuits appeared on the stage
To act their parts in England, France, and Spain.
And Italy her bloody hands hath slain,
Nine hundred thousand souls or there about,
E're many years had run their hours out.
Of the Americans by Popish Spain,
In fifty years was fifteen Millions slain.
The poor religious Waldenses, whose eye,
Like the quick sighted Vulture, did espy
Romes filthy whoredoms, and freely disclaim
Her vile Idolatry, and hate the same.
Drunk dreadful draughts of Romes most bloody Cup,
VVhich she with Hell-bred fury poured up.
And for no other cause, her bloody hands,
She did stretch forth with hell-inraged bands;
Being sent abroad forthwith, to put to death
Both young & old, each man that draweth breath;
And yet, as if she had not been content,
To Murder Parents with their Innocent
And harmless Babes, as if their hellish-breath
Had now been spent with putting souls to death.
Fourscore sweet Babes that never did offend,
Famish'd to Death, their harmless lives did end.
Search, search into the deep Abyss of hell,
And see if all the Dev'ls can parallel
So vile an act, O most imperious Treason
Against the King of Kings, and law of Reason!
Are Papists Christians, and are these their Acts
To punish such as ne'r committed Facts?
Are those right actings, fitting Gospel-times?
To lay on Babes the weight of highest Crimes?
Did Christ do thus, or hath he ever given
Them leave to deal so with the heirs of Heaven?
Those murd'red Souls under the Altar lie,
Crying how long Eternal Majesty,
How long wil't be e're thou avenge thy Saints,
And lend thine ear unto their sad complaints?
These Waldenses being overcome and dead,
A little remnant that escaped fled,
Taught by Dame Natures Moral-Laws to save
Their much desired lives, within a Cave
Did hide themselves, hoping at last, that they
Taking advantage of another day,
VVhen Golden Titan had laid down his head
Upon the Pillows of his VVestern-Bed,
And Proserpina Lady of the Night,
Had drawn her Sable Curtains, then they might
Transport themselves into some other land,
And so escape out of the hunters hand.
But as the Hound that hunts the wearied Hart,
Doth ply their steps, and never will depart
The Fields and Meadows, or the silent wood
Till they surprise the Beast: ev'n so these blood
Devouring Monsters having found the Cave,
Most barb'rously did make that place their grave,
VVherein four hundred yielding up their breath,
VVere in a barb'rous manner choak'd to death.
No Nation in the world hath ever seen,
A Foe so dreadful as the VVhore hath been.
It is farr better to be overcome
By Turk or Heathen, than by Christian Rome.
VVhat part of Europe now can make their boast,
And say they have not tasted to their cost
Of Romish Mercy? some are yet alive,
VVhose Parents felt the Death she did contrive.
O Germany! thy poor distress'd Estate
VVill speak to future Ages, and relate
VVhole Volums of her bloody Murders, and
The murder'd Souls of bleeding Ireland
Crie night and day for Vengeance, and implore
Gods Heaven enthroned Majesty e're more,
To put a period to her Hellish power,
That we may overtake her in an hour.
Those dreadful Murders, have the eyes and ears
Of some now living heard and seen the tears
Of soul afflicted Parents, whose sad eyes
Beheld their Murdred Babes, & heard their cries.
Their Daughters ravish'd, & when that was done,
Cruelly Murdred and the hopeful Son
By unheard Torments slain before their eyes,
Whilst they beheld their Childrens miseries:
Their Children Murdred, and their Wives defil'd,
Whose Bodies they ript up being great with child.
And all this while Parents and Husbands were
Forc'd to behold what flesh and blood can't bear
The bare Relation: what Adamant heart
Melts not, when I these dreadful things impart?
Ripping up Child-great-Women was not all,
For that although inhumane, was but small
Compar'd with other torments they indur'd,
Whose Patience bore what could not else be cur'd
Tearing out Bowels, boyling men alive,
These deaths and worse those Monsters did contrive.
We see how they have delt with every Nation;
And shall we think at last to find compassions
The piteous cries of Parents, nere could move.
Them to extend the smallest dram of love.
The tears that ran from dying Infants eyes,
Like plenteous showers from the darkned skies:
Whose great abundance might have made a river,
Yet all these floods of brinish tears could never
Enter a Papists heart so hard condens'd,
So void of pity, and all humane sence,
To hear the doleful shreeks, and dying groans
Of poor distressed Babes, who make their moans
To Soul afflicted Parents e're they part,
These are the things delight a Papists heart;
To see the dying gaspes before the death
Of tortured Souls, whose life forsaken breath
Had waited, many a tedious hour past,
When their tormented Souls should breath their last.
Whose dolorous sighings penetrate the skies,
Those objects do delight a Papists eyes.
And can we now at last expect to find,
That Rome's grown merciful, and Papists kind?
No, no, we cannot do't, if we but fix
Our serious thought upon late Sixty six:
When London was consum'd, that Famous City,
Its Ruins doth bespeak them void of pity.
By Romes contrivance, was fair London burn'd,
Englands Metropolis to ashes turn'd.
Their Merchants of their Riches quite bereft,
To day rich men, to morrow nothing left.
Their Wives and Children harbourless became,
Their substance all consumed in the Flame:
To day this Famaus City's deck'd in Gold,
To morrow an amazement to behold.
The doleful Shreeks, and lamentable Cries,
The floods of Tears that ran from weeping eyes,
As true resemblances, did represent
The Sorrows that our Neighbours underwent.
And can we think that Hell-begotten Rage,
That did provoke so many to engage
In such an Act, far worse than th'Powder Treason:
Can we suppose, if we consult with Reason,
The fury of their Hellish Rage expir'd
So soon as e're that Famous place was Fir'd.
No, no, Good Sir, your Pardon, I presume
Those Hell-ingendred flames that did consume
So fair a City in so short a space.
Hell gave those flames Commission down to raze
Not London only, but every soul that hath
A heart resolved to maintain the Faith
Of Jesus, Protestants both great and small
Rome hath determin'd their eternal Fall.
And those more formal Protestants, whose Zeal
May secretly perswade them to conceal
Their seeming Faith, and feignedly to close
With Romes erroneous Doctrine, and suppose
Thereby to save their lives; let none believe
Such vain perswasions, many did deceive
Themselves; for Rome, that Painted Whore,
Will deal with them as she hath done before.
With such as hoped in the self same kind,
To meet with Mercy, but nought less did find.
Christ never gave unto his Church Commission,
For to make Laws for grievous Persecution.
No outward force were they i'th' least to use,
Much less poor Innocents for to abuse,
By Burning, Starving, Roasting on a Spit,
And tauntingly to make a sport of it.
The holy Saints, and People of the Lord,
Their only weapon was Gods sacred Word.
With that blest sword always they overcome,
And did refute all Hereticks; but Rome
Makes use ('tis plain) o'th' Carnal sword and Fire,
'Tis Blood, 'tis Blood this Locust doth desire.
Death without Mercy, acts of Cruelty,
The Matter must decide continually,
The way they use to turn a Soul from error,
Is the most dreadful flesh-amazing terror
Of horrid Racks, whereon a man must lie
Tortur'd to Death, dying, yet cannot die.
Strange kinds of Instruments, devis'd to tear
The flesh from off the bones; these sometimes were
Her friendly admonitions, to reclaim
Such whom she doth for Hereticks defame.
What Massacres has she contriv'd by night,
When nature doth to rest each man invite.
VVhen sleep had clos'd their eyes, no thoughts of harms
Did them possess, but in their folded armes
Their wives and children lay, with hopes that they
Through grace might live to see another day.
Then came these murd'ring Butchers, sent from Hell,
Nothing but Blood would their vile rage repell;
Laying dear Babes and Mothers in their gore
'Till all were dead they scorned to give o're,
If these Church dealings will not work contrition,
She can erect a cursed Inquisition:
A dreadful place of cruelty and blood,
Whose torments scarcely can be understood.
A loathsome Dungeon, and vile stinking Cell,
A place of darkness, representing Hell;
Where nothing is so plentifull as tears,
And bitter Sighs, and yet can find no ears
To hear their cries and lamentable moans,
Nor hearts to pity them for all their groans,
Where many tedious days and nights they spend,
Not knowing when their suff'rings will have end.
If such like arguments (Sir) will confute
A Heretick, the Papist may dispute
With all the world, nay Heathen Rome could never
Come nigh a Papist with their best endeavour:
They scorn all Turks or Pagans (for contrival
Of Barbarous Cruelties) should be Corrival;
For inhumanities their must defie
And scorn that Cannibals should them come nigh.
A bloody Papist strives to counterfeit
The Plagues of Hell, as far as man's conceit
Can reach unto, or Devils could invent,
This is a Papists knocking Argument
Thus, thus is Rome drunk with the Martyrs blood
Which has run down like to a mighty flood.
O it is Rome that is that Scarlet whore,
Which thus doth hate and persecute the Poor.
And all which are unto truth inclin'd,
To serve the Lord with a most perfect mind,
According to the tenor of his Word;
All such she strives to put unto the Sword:
And suffers none to buy, nor sell, nor live,
But such as homage unto her would give.
Upon her head also Saint John did see
Was writ the cursed name of Blasphemy:
Setting her self on God's Imperial Throne:
Saying, I am, besides me there is none.
I have the keys of Heaven in my hand,
Both Earth and Hell is at my sole command;
I shut and open unto whom I please,
I torment give to some, to others ease.
Lo, thus God's Sacred Word doth point her forth,
This, this is she, there's none in all the earth
That ever did adventure to lay claim
To that presumptuous and blasphemous name,
As King of Heaven, Earth, and Hell, but she,
Therefore Romes Church must the vile Strumpet be.

Apostate.
Sir, speak no more, forbear your sland'rous lies,
The holy Church such murdrous acts defies:
Do not believe all Stories you do hear,
'Tis hard for you to make these things appear.

Professor.

Apostate.
Youth, 'tis the Faith of Roman Catholicks,
Thus for to deal with all vile Hereticks.
Yet 'twas Rebellion too, say what you will,
For which the Church did many thousands kill.
To Magistrates they disobedient were,
And therefore they just punishment did bear.

Professor.
Peter and John they Rebels were also,
By that same Argument which use you do.
To Magistrates they did refuse to bend,
VVherein they knew they should the Lord offend.
In civil things they always did submit,
And Preached also, 'twas a thing most fit,
In things which unto man do appertain,
But Christ o're Conscience ought alone to reign.
Ev'n so those Martyrs bare an upright mind
Unto their Prince, and ever were inclin'd
In all just things obedient for to be;
Yet did stand up for Christ his Sov'reignty,
And were resolv'd in matters of their Faith,
To worship God as holy Scripture saith,
According to that light which he doth give,
Up unto which each Soul on Earth should live.
And though your Church doth put poor men to death,
'Twas from the Dev'l such curst laws came forth.
The tares with wheat should grow unto the end,
Till God is pleas'd the Reapers for to send.
That 'twas from Satan; I don't doubt i'th' least,
For he did give unto this bloody Beast
His Pow'r and Seat, and his Authority,
For to effect all cursed Villany.

Apostate.
They were some evil persons without doubt,
Who crept into the Church, that work'd about
Those Murderous deeds the Church did not allow,
But utterly against them doth Avow.

Professor.
The filthy Pope, and evil Cardinal,
With Bishops, Monks, and Fryers you so call,
With fiery Jesuits, for to be brief,
In all these murd'rous acts these were the chief.
Bulls, false Pardons, and cursed dispensations,
From bloody Rome has Ruin'd many Nations,
You can't deceive, nor hood wink the world more,
Times have discovered the Scarlet Whore.
We now know how clearly to bring our charge,
As I could shew, but that I can't inlarge.

Apostate.
I know not how further (Sir) to excuse
The Holy Church, you put me in a muse:
But she's more kind and gentle grown of late,
And doth such cruelties defie and hate.

Professor.
Rome to a Wolf may fitly be compar'd,
Who whilst against his will is quite debarr'd
From seeking of his Prey, being ty'd in chains,
Seems very peaceable, though he remains
A Wolf in Nature still, if ever he
At any rate can get his liberty,
Doth straight way run impatient of delay,
And cannot rest until he's got his prey.
So Rome seems kind and gentle, until she
Can find again an opportunity,
Which with unwearied pains, and often trial,
She ever seeks, and hardly takes denyal.
Which if she once obtains, she will not stay
From sheding blood a minute of a day.

Apostate.
'Tis a vain thing with you for to contend,
And therefore I had rather make an end:
'Tis out of love I speak, to have you leave
Your evil Errors, speedily to cleave
Unto that Church who only can decide
All Controversies, even to divide
The truth from error, light from darkness so
That every one the ready way may go.
But you seem so resolved in your mind,
That little hopes, alas, of you I find.
But youth consider once again I pray,
The troubles of a now approaching day.
For sore amazements will you overtake,
Unless you do your purposes forsake.
If once our Church the day obtains, be sure
Then down you Hereticks must go for ever.
Let former stroaks of Justice take such place,
As for to move you wisely to embrace
That Councel, which in tender love I give,
That you in safety evermore may live.
Or you'l Repent that ever you begun
These dang'rous ways of Heresie to run.
'Tis a dark doleful dangerous path you go,
Recant therefore as many others do,

Professor.
You may mistake, sometimes the waters flow,
Yet on a sudden I observe them low.
A Hammon may maliciously devise
Poor Mordecai, and others to surprise,
Yet may his purposes meet with a blast,
And he himself be hanged too at last.
The flesh with all its lusts to mortifie,
Is hard to those that love Iniquity.
The way to Papists wholly is untrod,
And unto all who haters are of God.
The way seems dark to you, untrod, uneven,
Hard 'tis to th'flesh, yet 'tis the way to Heaven,
'Tis dark to you, because that you are blind,
And can't Gods purpose in dark foot-steps mind.
I've a sure hand to lead my trampling paces,
To scape the danger of those dang'rous spaces.
I shall pass safe, by means of my best Guide,
Though thousands fall by me on every side.
For to turn back will prove a doleful fault,
I think upon the Monument of Salt.
I am resolv'd a thousand deaths to dy,
Before I'le ever yield to Popery.

Apostate.
Thou art too strict, too righteous, and precise,
Thou flight'st such things which prudent men do prize,
Thou mayst have Christ, pleasure and honours too,
And saved be without half this ado.
There's very few alas are of your mind,
Who unto Rome are not at all inclin'd.

Professor.
You now condemn me for my holy life,
Wherein 'tis true I met with straits and strife.
But when, dear Sir, you come at length to die,
You'l blame your self, and me you'l justifie.
Did ever any on a dying bed,
Lament that they were by Gods spirit led
To crucifie their sins, and undertake
All things to leave for the Lord Jesus sake?
If Righteous ones, alas scarce saved are,
It greatly doth behove me to take care
In holiness to walk, what e're you say,
I from the paths of life will never stray.
The way I know is rough, 'tis hard and strait,
And leads me also through a Thorny gate,
Whose scratching Pricks are very sharp and fell,
The way to Heav'n is by the Gates of Hell.
Your way 'tis true seems very smooth and wide,
Since you from Christ have lately turn'd aside.
My Paths seem long, yours short and very fair,
Free from all Rubs and Snares, yet Sir beware,
The safest path is not alwayes most even,
The way to Hell's like to a seeming Heaven
Shall proud Flesh-wantons for a moments pleasure,
Expose themselves to shame, and loss of treasure.
The'l spend their strength, their gold, and their Estates.
Amongst their sensual dame-hellish mates.
Shall cursed Pleasures thus be pris'd, and must
The joyes above be cheaper then a lust.
Th'ambitious Gallant, for to hoist his Name
Upon the wings of Honour and of Fame,
How will he venter on the point of Spears,
And face the mouths of Cannons! nought he fears:
With courage stout how will he fight i'th' Flood,
When Brinish Seas are mixt with human blood!
Shall wretched man be at the Devils will,
And dangers run, his lust for to fulfil?
And shall not I, when God commands me forth,
Ingage for him with all my might on earth?
Or shall the promis'd Crown of endless life,
Be judg'd a trifle, and not worth a strife?
That which vain man accounts to be most rare,
Is not obtain'd but with much cost and care,
Things of great worth on Earth are got by pains,
And he who venters nothing, nothing gains.
And shall I then be startled with a frown,
VVhen full assur'd of an Eternal Crown.
The strife which doth an holy life attend,
Will recompenced be I'm sure i'th' end.
I will go on, since Jesus doth invite me,
His strength is mine, and nothing shall affright me,

Apostate.
I do perceive you are resolv'd to run,
In your strict ways until you're quite undone.
Yet hear a little what I have to speak.
And you will find 'tis best for you to take.
The Councel which I give; for youl'l espy
Great Ruin fall upon you suddenly.
Your father will not own you for his Son,
If in this foolish strictness you'l go on,
His Face expect hereafter not to see,
If this your purpose and your pleasure be.

Professor.
If Father, Mother, and dear Brethren too
Forsake me quite, yet still I well do know
My precious Saviour will my Soul embrace,
And I shall see sweet smiles from his dear face.
My self and my relations all, (though) dear
I do deny, such is the love I bear
To my dear Lord, whose Servant now am I,
And do resolve to be until I die.
Come life, come Death, for Canaan I'le endeavour,
It is my home, and resting place for ever.
Better it is that earthly friends abuse me,
Than that Christ Jesus should at last refuse me.
I'de rather bear my Fathers wrath and ire,
Than to be cast into eternal Fire.

Apostate.
Fie, fie, young-man, forbear, and take advice,
Let not hot Zeal thy fancy thus intice,
For to refuse those pleasant things which you
May here enjoy, as many others do:
'Tis much too soon for thee to mind such things,
For nought but grief and dotage from it springs;
'Twill dull thy wit, and make thee like a droan;
And thou'lt be slighted too by ev'ry one.
How might'st thou live at ease, and pleasure have,
If once these ways thou would'st resolve to leave;
And like a Flower flourish in the Spring,
And with young Gallants might'st rejoyce & sing,
And spend thy days in pleasure sweet and rare
I prethee youth consider, O take care
To chear thy heart; behold now in thy sight,
What earthly joys most sweetly do invite.

Professor.
Young it is true I am, and in my prime,
Therefore resolve for to improve my time:
The flower of my days dost think I will
Give to the Devil, lust for to fulfil?
Shall Satan have the primest of my days,
And put off Christ with base and vile delays,
Until old age, and then at last present
The dregs of time to him? I'le not consent
To such vile thoughts, I will not lend an ear,
I to my Saviour more affection bear.
Since first of th'living Spring my soul did drink
All sinful pleasures in my Nose do stink.
More precious Joy I find in my dear Lord,
Than all this world doth, yea, or can afford.
If I am slighted for Christ Jesus sake,
And judg'd a Fool or Droan, yet I can take
All for him, who for me hath undergone
More shame than this before his work was done.
This is my choosing time, I have made choice,
Gods Word I will obey, and hear his voice.
Gods Counsel 'tis that first of all in youth
I should him seek, and cleave unto the Truth.
Your Counsel I abhor; shall lustful fire
Be kindled in my Brest? shall my desire
Run out again to Egypt's cursed stuff,
I know 'tis nought, of it I have enough.

Apostate.
Alas, the journey's long, you'l wearied be,
And faint before that Kingdom you do see.

Professor.
Nay Sir, be silent, that is false, for I
By Faith most clearly do the Land espie.
But is the Journy long? blame me no more,
Betimes i'th' morning I set out therefore.
Why did'st thou say it was too soon for me
For to set out? If long the Journey be,
I do resolve in youth with speed to strive,
Lest I too late at last should there arrive.
While strength and youth do last I'le bend my mind
To Travel hard, because I clearly find
Old Age, and weary Limbs, quite out of case
To go a journy, or to run a Race.
Alas, when night is ready to come in,
That's not a time this Journey to begin,
When Sun and Moon, and Stars all darkned be,
And clouds return, that we no light can see:
When rain and tempests do most sore appear,
And th'Keepers of the house all trembling are:
When the strong men themselves are forc'd to bow
And grinders cease also, because that now
They are but few, and ready to fall out,
And those through windows which do look about
Are become dim, nay darkned without light,
And doors too in the street are shut up quite.
When the low sound o'th' grinders scarcely heard,
He riseth up too at the voice o'th' Bird:
And all the Daughters of sweet Musick rare,
Are brought too low, don't for such Musick care.
And fears increase in thoughts of what's on high,
Fears in the way, and fears for what is righ.
When flourish shall the Almond Tree also,
And th'Grashopper shall be a burden too.
When loosed is the precious Silver Cord,
And Golden Bowl is brok'n, as we have heard:
When the weak Pitcher at the Fountain's broke,
And th'wheel at th'Cistern with a heavy stroke:
VVhen desire fails, and there alas is none,
VVhat will such do who han't this Race begun?
Besides 'tis clear, my days uncertain be,
Old Age alas I may not live to see.
Young men are quickly gon, for I behold
Dayly as young as I are turn'd to th'Mould,
My own experience doth discover this,
My life a bubble and a Vapour is.
The flower which doth spread, and is so gay,
Soon may it fade and wither quite away.
If I therefore have still much work to do,
Or as you say so long a way to go;
It doth concern me then, with all my power,
For to improve each day, yea, every hour:
For daies to come I see may not be mine,
My time I'le spend, not as thou spendest thine;
My weights I'le cast away this race to run,
Stand still I must not, nor with thee return:
I must provide me oil, get Grace in store,
For o're a while I shall be seen no more
This side the Grave, I haste therefore to meet
The Glorious Judge at the great Judgment seat.
I must make haste, be swift like to the Sun,
Lest that my work's to do when time is done.

Apostate.
To you, young man, I have declared much
Of the sad danger, but your Zeal is such,
Nought that I say with you takes any place,
You don't believe me, that's the very case.
But what's the reason, youth, so many folk
Decline those paths in which you now do walk?
Were waies of your strict Holiness so sweet,
They in this sort would never back retreat;
I did resolve with others for to try,
And find you all deceived utterly,
Your whole Religion's nought but meer conceit,
Let none therefore thy soul with fancies cheat.
Since wise men daily do your waies forsake,
Be thou advis'd, and other councel take.

Professor.
If thousands fall away, it is no more
Than what the Scripture shews was heretofore.
Thousands of old from Egypt did adventure,
And yet but two of them did Canaan enter:
They never had of Christ a saving taste,
VVho quite away their seeming hopes do cast:
Their hearts alas are rotten and unsound
VVho in Christ Jesus never sweetness found.
But what of this? shall I my Lord deny
Because that you some Hypocrites espy?
Those who do murmur in the wilderness,
The Land of Promise never shall possess.
But if they will the precious Lord Revoke,
Shall I from thence resolve to slip the Yoak?
Because they don't the glorious Lord believe,
Shall Caleb think the Land he can't receive?
Because so many walk i'th' way to Hell,
Shall I conclude that Heaven don't excel
The vain injoyments of an evil world?
Or shall with fancies thus my soul be hurl'd?
To think, because that Swine the grains do chuse,
And Pearls do tread upon, and them refuse,
There is more worth in those base stinking grains
Than in those true Pearls which the Merchant gains?
Because these silly men have lost their way,
Shall I on purpose therefore go astray?
Because that Judas did for thirty pence
Sell his dear Lord, shall I conclude from thence
Peter a fool, who priz'd his favour so,
That for his sake all things hee'd undergo?
If fearful Souldiers basely quit the field,
Shall valiant Champions therefore straitway yield
Most cowardly unto their treacherous foe,
Whom they assured were to overthrow.
If Mariners unskill'd in Navigation
Are split on Rocks, shall all then in the Nation
That have that curious art, resolve therefore
Never to use the Art of Sailing more?
Because the sluggard sees the winds do blow,
The Rain descending with cold hail and snow,
He doth give o're, and says no longer will
Remain i'th' field his barren Land to till:
Shall faithful Husband-men from the like ground,
Who have oft-times by good experience found,
Without they sow, no harvest they can have,
Resolve the painfull labours quite to leave:
He that won't Plow because o'th' snow or rain,
Shall beg at harvest, and shall nought obtain:
So in like sort, to mind my present case,
'Cause persons void of God's true saving Grace
Do' Postatize as you your self have done,
Must I to th'Devil with you headlong run?
'Cause some Professors secretly do love
Some base corruptions, doth this therefore prove
There's none sincere for God in all the Earth,
Whose souls experience do the second birth?
I for my part through Grace have this to say,
I never shall, nor can I fall away:
All those whom God has unto Jesus given,
They never can be dispossess'd of Heaven;
The Promise of Eternal Life is theirs,
And they like Isaac, even so are heirs,
Who could not miss, nor dispossessed be,
Unless God's Word's made a meer Unlitie:
God's Covenant also with Christ doth stand,
Who can supply our wants on ev'ry hand,
Sin shall not Reign such is our happy case,
We are not under th'Law, but under Grace
This Covenant is not like to the old,
We of a surer person now have hold.
We stand not now as Adam did 'tis plain,
God never will trust that old man again.
Our credit's nothing worth, our Surety
Is in our room, our wants he must supply,
Besides all this I'le hint another thing,
Which to my soul doth much refreshment bring:
He that's the Author of my Faith, I spy,
Will finish it himself assuredly.
He that in me has a good work begun,
Will perfect it also e're he has done.
Within God's Saints Eternal Life doth dwell.
This would remove the doubt, considered well,
Those unto whom Eternal Life is given,
How can it be that such should miss of Heaven?
And now to breviate 'tis my intent,
Sir, if you please, to frame one argument.
If the new creature in the souls of men
Is of Gods Spirit born, I argue then,
The same in nature it be sure must be,
Which cannot death, or like mutation see,
But that 'tis of God's Spirit born, is clear,
As John the Third doth make most plain appear.
The seed also doth in their souls remain,
They cannot sin to death who're born again;
God's fear moreover is so in their heart,
That they from him shall never more depart.
Thus is my standing very firm and sure,
And to the end I know I shall endure:
And as for those who fall away and dye
I shall discover clearly by and by
What kind of men and women they are all
Which will hold forth the cause too of their fall.

Apostate.
Most confident, I do perceive you are
Daunted at nothing, yet pray let me hear
Those persons Names which you did lastly meet,
VVho finally resolve for to retreat,
And leave those paths which you seem to commend;
Come, speak to this and we will make an end.

Professor.
Sir, unto me it doth most plain appear
As if they cowards and faint-hearted were:
Under their tongues also close secretly,
Some pleasant morsels I am sure do lie:
And in them all doth reign some cursed evil,
Which makes them to conform unto the Devil.

Apostate.
As you suppose, but pray youth, have a care,
For they sincere and sober people are.
And I do question whether yea or nay
Thou do'st them know, what further hast to say?

Professor.
I told you, Sir, I knew them very well,
And since you urge me, I resolve to tell
What kind of folk they are, and also shall
Their names discover unto great and small;
Master Fearful was one that I did see,
With him was goodly Sensuality.
With Dame Misbelief, and Goodman Outside
Who turn'd from Christ as soon as they were try'd
One Unbelief, a very wicked man;
Turn him out of his way, there's no man can:
Besides them also, there's one Earthly heart
Who loves nothing so well as Plow and Cart:
Also ther's Esau Faint-heart, most profane,
That sells his Birth-right, Pottage to obtain;
VVith Belly-god, a man that I do find,
Flesh-pots and Onyons chiefly he doth mind.
There's Mistress Discontent too with the rest,
Who would have nought but what she liketh best.
Master Hot love soon cold also was there,
Lately for Zeal, with him few could compare,
There's Ishmael legal-heart, in truth also,
When troubles rise, he strait away doth go
With Master Balaam, who doth Jesus leave
The wages of unrighteousness to have:
Some people also I have lately met,
Who were with sin most easily beset;
And divers heavy weights also they bore,
Which wearied them, and made them to give o're.
A Gentleman I also did behold,
Whose trade was great, and store he had of gold.
He's going back with sorrow I do know,
Because he can't have Christ and the world too.
One Master Atheist, that I think's his name
As like your self as if he were the same;
He's fallen back so far, and turn'd aside,
That at Religion he doth much deride:
He thinks Religion's but a foolish thing,
VVhich doth no comfort, nor no profit bring.
This is too true, you also are the man,
To clear your self, deny it if you can,
No marvel 'tis you play the Devils part,
In labouring thus for to deceive my heart,
And blind mine eyes if that thou knewest how,
Thou'dst make me like thy self, and therefore now
I am resolv'd with thee for to ingage,
VVho striv'st to stop me in my Pilgrimage:
A foe more vile than you, what soul can meet?
I'le therefore bring you down unto my feet.
Some stones I think to fetch out of God's book,
Though like Goliah you do seem to look,
Yet in his Name, whom you so much defie,
I shall prevail against you by and by.
I thought I must confess some years ago,
I should not in the least been stopt by you;
Or that I should have met with opposition
VVith such a foe to add to my affliction.
But since this is my sad unhappy fate,
I'le add a line or two to vindicate
The Dreadful God, so far as lies in me,
I'le vindicate that Glorious Deity;
VVho in my soul his Image so has set,
That I his Glorious Being can't forget.
Shall he which form'd both Heaven and the Earth,
From whom I have my precious life and birth
Be trod upon, nay, utterly deni'd?
VVhat soul can such a sinful wretch abide?
VVho strives at once, if that you could it do,
The life of all Religion to o're-throw.
Hast thou got ought to speak, and wilt thou enter
On the debate, yea, durst thou to adventure
To o'pe thy mouth i'th' least for to defend
Those thoughts of thine, which clearly do descend
From hell beneath, thou'lt prove thy self thereby
The Devil's Friend, Jehovah's Enemy.

Apostate.
Thou childish lad, do'st think I am afraid
For to declare my self, or am dismay'd
By silly dreams and fancies, which afright
Those simple ones who dare not walk i'th' night:
Who startle at the shadow which they see,
And think the Devil's near, when 'tis a tree:
And since I do perceive you understand
VVhat my opinion is, I do demand
How you can prove, and fully make appear
There is a God; for none at all I fear.
No God nor Devil I at all believe,
Nor is there any Heaven to receive
The souls of Holy Men when they do die;
Nor is there any Hell of Misery
For sinners after death, as you conceit,
All is nought else save a Religious cheat.

Professor.
Dare you your Maker thus with impudence
Deny and tread upon? such insolence
What Soul can bear! what Age can shew the like,
Where so much light hath been! shall Mortals strike
At the Great God, and Glorious Deity?
Whose dreadful Being and Existency
The Heathens did find out, and greatly fear;
His Godhead did to them most plain appear
By the Creation, Man, as in a Glass
May there behold who his Creator was.
'Tis time to arm my self, and look about,
When by an Atheist I am challeng'd out:
When th'whole of all Religion lies at stake,
'Tis time to rouse, and also for to shake
Off, sloth and idleness, and to ingage
With such a foe in this my pilgrimage.
If once I should unto an Atheist yield,
And treach'rously also acquit the Field:
The strongest hold of Truth betray should I
Into the hands of its worst enemy:
And should unman my self of Christian too,
And my dear soul of reason overthrow.
I should debase my self, should I deny
My Noble Birth from the great Deity.
Man's chiefest glory springs from's Supream Head,
In his descent from him, who made and bred,
And brought him forth, and doth his life maintain,
From hence man doth his greatest honor gain.
'Tis power Divine that man doth greaten thus,
As to make him King of the Universe.
Who e're disowns his blessed Pedigree,
Doth prove himself unnat'ral for to be.
For man to say he came by hap or chance,
As 'tis a piece of wilful Ignorance,
Himself also he doth depose thereby,
From his own honour and rare dignity;
And vile contempt upon himself doth bring,
As well as dirt upon that Essence fling.
Who form'd his Soul, and gave to him his breath,
And made him Ruler here upon the Earth.
But to proceed, and lend my helping hand,
In the defence of Sacred truth to stand,
And vindicate my great Creators cause
By Natures light, and also by those Laws
Which supernat'ral are, and most Divine,
Whose light excells, yea, and whose glories shine.
You ask me how I can make it appear,
There is a God, attend and now give ear,
And weigh my arguments and reasons sound,
And let not Satan more your soul confound,
And Reason quite destroy as he has done,
Least to the Devil you do headlong run.

Apostate.
Before you do proceed, this you must know,
If you a God do think to prove or show,
Be sure of this, young man, it must not be
By Scripture-proof, for its Authority
I do deny, and cannot it believe,
You never shall that way my heart deceive:
The knowledge which you supernatural call,
Is a meer cheat, I mind it not all.

Professor.

Apostate.
Amongst the Heathens (youth) were men of fame
VVho for their skill in Nature had the name
Above all others, which did quite deny
There was a God or such a Deity.

Professor.
Your Epicurus, and old Aristotle,
VVith Theodorus, Bion, and the Rabble,
And such like Atheists I must grant to you
Deny'd there was a God as Stories shew,
Philosophy is good, but men abuse it,
VVhen they, like those old Heathen Authors use it.
God doth sometimes mens reasons darken quite
For not improving of the means of light.
To vile affections up God doth them give,
Because on earth, like Brutes they seem to live.
But though these natural Sots could not espy
By all their skill th'eternal Deity,
Yet many thousand Heathens I might show
By Natures light alone did come to know
There was a God, they searched so about
Into Gods works, they found his God-head out.
For when they gave themselves up seriously
To study Natures Book, and come to pry
Into the cause of all things here on earth,
And their effects, did clearly see the birth
Or first Original of every thing,
From such an Essence to descend or spring.
The very Novices in Natures School,
May soon convince that man to be a Fool,
VVho by the Creatures glory can't discern
The Being of that dreadfull Soveraign
VVho did them form and make, for every where
His glorious God head they to all declare,
Had I but time, I could some pages fill,
To shew to you how that mans reason will
Teach him there is a God, for if he mind
The nature of his Soul, this he might find,
Mans soul is like a spring or like to fire,
It resteth not aloft, it doth aspire,
And unto Noah's Dove, I'le it compare,
God is the Ark, souls rest alone is there.
The flesh dams up the spring, quenches desire,
Keeps out of th'Ark to which it would retire:
Since I perceive mans soul doth search about
To find some higher good and Being out;
VVhich doth excel all things which are below,
This doth to us Gods glorious being show,
But to conclude this, no man can disown,
God by his judgments daily is made known.
VVhat sad examples daily do we hear
Of VVrath and Vengeance almost every where?
Some drunkards and blasphemers struck down dead
And others with strange Judgments tortured?
Some have presum'd the Holy God to dare,
VVhom he would not one little minute spare,
If this will not convince you of your error,
I fear you will e're long fall under terror;
For if you will not now example take,
God may of you a sad example make.
Your state alas, above all men is sad,
Because of God you once such knowledge had,
And of his waies, which now you loath and hate;
O Sir, consider this your woful state;
And cry to God, if peradventure He
May give you Grace, whereby your soul may see
Your hainous sin, that so you may repent,
And turn to God before your daies are spent.

Apostate.
I must confess I know not what to say,
If there's a God, then cursed be the day
That ever I was born, for I do know
He never unto me will mercy shew:
I now resolve to open my condition,
Though all's in vain; for there is no contrition
VVill do me good, I utterly am lost;
For I have sinn'd against the Holy Ghost:
I wilfully have sinn'd and there remains
Nothing for me but everlasting pains.
O that there were no God, for then should I
Be like the Beast when e're I come to die.
For love o'th'VVorld and for my present ease
I am become like to the troubled Seas.
No rest nor comfort ever shall I find,
Curs'd be the day that ever I declin'd
From these good waies in which dear youth you go
Or ever I did God or Jesus know:
For if I had not known them, it is clear
My sin would not so hainous now appear:
My Conscience doth prick me to the heart,
I never shall be eased of this smart.
Oh that I were in Hell! for then should I
Soon see the worst of my extremity.
Thou shalt, dear youth, for ever happy be,
For thou art chosen from Eternity.
To be an heir of the Eternal Bliss;
But I alas am damn'd! what woe like this?
The Devil with his glist'ring golden ball
Hath me deceiv'd, and now I see my fall
To be so bad, no tongue can it express,
My woful pain is quite remediless.
The checks of Conscience I did greatly slight,
And loved darkness greatly, hated light:
Yea, and of good I never lov'd to hear,
Though I of him had hints oft-times most clear;
And now will he my soul to pieces tear,
And make me his Eternal Vengeance bear.
Let all backsliders of me warning take
Before they fall into the Stygian Lake;
Yea, and return and make with God their peace
Before the daies of Grace and Mercy cease;
For mine are past for ever, oh! condole
My sad estate, and miserable soul.
My daies will quickly end, and I must lie
Broyling in flames to all Eternity.