University of Virginia Library

God! how that word hath thunder-clapt my Soul
Into a ravishment; I must condole
My forward weakness; Ah, where shall I find
Sufficient Metaphors t'express my mind?
Thou heart-amusing word, how hast thou fil'd
My Soul with Halelujahs, and distil'd
Wonders into me! Oh, that I could break
My heart in pieces, and divinely speak
My mind in Raptures, that the frantique Earth
May bath it selfe in these sweet streams of mirth,
Then rouze my Soul, and practise how to turn
Thy wonders into language; do not burn
Thy sacred fuel in a place where none
Can have the benefit but thee alone.
Hoist up thy Sails, and let thy speedy motion
Hurry thee hence into the boundless Ocean:
Observe thy compass, keep a constant pace,
And Heav'n will steer thee to the Port of Grace.

'Tis strange to think, how the Almighty can
(That is so pure) love such a thing as Man,
Whose primitive corruption makes him worse
Then nothing, whose Rebellion claims a curse,
More then affection: How can Heav'n endure
A thing that can be nothing but impure?
Man (like a word that's voyd of reason) sounds
In every ear, his very name expounds
A misery; at best, he needs must be
But vain; And how can Heav'n love vanitie?
Man (like a shadow) flies before the Sun
Of his afflictions, and is still undone
By his own doing, he's his own pursuer;
And how can Heav'n love such a self-undoer?
Man (like a naked worm) is often found
Digging himself into the loathsome ground
Of ruine, he's a Traytor to his Bliss;
And how can Heav'n love such a worm as this?
Man (like a flash of lightning) courts the world
With lavish flames, and by and by is hurl'd
Into that Nothing, whence it first he came;
Then how can God love such a short-liv'd flame?
Man (like a Reed) is evermore inclind
To shake, and totter with each blast of wind;
He's alwayes running to the ground with speed:
And how can Heav'n love such an earthly Reed?
Man (like the dust) is always blown, and tost
From place to place, and flies, till it has lost
Its Center; never resting in one place:
Then how can Heav'n love that which flies in's face?
Man (like a Fly) still buzzes up and down
From cup to cup, and sips on, till he drown
Himself in pleasure; fears no stander by:
And how can Heav'n love such a drunken Fly?
Man (like a Rain-bow) oftentimes appears
Clothed in colours, but can claim no years,
No days, nay hardly hours, but must decay;
And how can heav'n love that which loves no stay?
Man (like a bubble) floats upon the waves
Of his desires, whilst every blast enslaves
His brittle substance, fill'd with windy troubles;
And how can heav'n love such uncōstant bubbles?
Man (like the froth) spew'd from the Oceans brest,
Is tyded up and down, but knows no rest,
Nor perpetuity; and can betroth
It self to nothing: Heav'n loves no such froth.
Man (like the wind) is every moment flying
To every place, and hates to be complying
Or resting any where: how can it be?
That Heav'n can love so much inconstancie?
Man (like a swallow) loves the fragrant Spring
Of Earths delights, but with a spreading wing
Flies from the Winters more congealed brest;
And how can Heav'n love such a Summer guest?
Man (like a smoak) presumptuously aspires
Into the air, and by and by retires
Himself to nothing, nothing's his conclusion;
And how can Heav'n love such a base confusion?
Man (like a fire) whose green and scragged fuel
Denies to burn, until it fight a duel
With the incount'ring Bellows, which at last
Obtains the conquest, then it burns as fast,
And seems as 'twere, ambitious to expire;
Then how can Heav'n love such a raging fire?
Man (like an arrow) being once let go
Out from the Archers well commanded bow,
Affronts the Clouds; at last, having spent the store
Of his smal strength, fals down, and seemst' adore
Th'inferior Earth, which, with a welcome, hides
His down-cast head within her wounded sides,
Where he remains, and scorns to be withstood:

Man can be any thing, but what is good.
And cannot Man be good? strange kind of tone!
What? has he wept himselfe into a stone,
Like Niobie? no sure; I fear his eyes
Were never loaded with such large supplies:
Ah, could he weep a flood, Heav'n that prepares
His eares to hear, would bottle up his tears
In his remembrance; every drop should shine
Like Pearls absconded in a golden Myne:
His sins command a deluge; could his head
Be turn'd into a fountaine, could he shed
An Ocean at a drop, it could not cover
His sins (which are mountainous) from the Lover
Of real drops for he would soon discry
Those sand excelling crimes, where ere they lie:
Yet would his Soul so much compassionate
The flowing sorrows of his wat'ry state,
That with a calming hand he would remove
His rocky sins, and hide them with his Love;
He would have pity, and with speed consent
T'express his love, when all our tears are spent.
Should Heav'n, who justly may, for every sin
Drop down a plague, and make it live within
Mans guilty Soul, the world would quickly be
Transform'd, and chang'd into a leprosie.
Let none dispair, for Heav'ns known mercies can
Out-infinite the greatest sins of man.
Oh love beyond degree! Shall Heav'n indulge
Himselfe to Man? and shall not Man divulge
A gratefulness to him, whose hand prepares
To wipe away his sin-polluted cares?
Ungrateful Miscreant, how canst thou view
Thy former miseries, and not renew
Thy thanks to him, whose power set thee free,
And brought thee back from thy captivity?
Hast thou abandon'd Love? Wilt thou imprint
Thy Soul with baseness? Ah, what obvious flint
Hath turn'd Affections edg? What, art thou bent
To shoot at him, that labours to prevent
The arrows of thy ruine, which will fly
Into thy brest, except he puts them by?
Hast thou transform'd thy heart into a rock
That will not move? Shall mercy call and knock,
And thou not hear? What? hast thou arm'd thy heart
With sensless marble, that no flaming dart
Of love can enter? Hast thou vow'd to stand
In opposition? Cannot Gods Command
Force thee to bow? Art thou resolv'd to sport
With thy destruction, and not yeild the Fort?
Oh yeild be times; do not resolve to be
Too much a slave to Infidelitie:
For know (frail wretch) thy strēgth consists in clay;
When Mercy's lost, then Judgment finds the way.
Rally thy thoughts together, and throw down
Thy brazen walls, thy yeilding yeilds a Crown:
For 'tis in vain to oppose an arm that can
Out-grasp the measure of so small a span,
Alas, Alas! it may be quickly seen
What a large disproportion is between
Thy God, and thee: Consider, he is all,
And thou art nothing; what can be more small?
Or what more great? for he is infinite,
And thou art finite: He is full of light,
And thou of darkness; He is fill'd with love,
And thou art stuff'd with baseness; He's a Dove,
And thou a Worm: Thus, thus thou mayst discry
His firmness, and thine own infirmity.
Then be not obstinate, but strike the sails
Of thy desires to him that never fails;
And know, 'tis easie in an inch of time
To take a worm ingarrison'd with slime;
For such a thing thou art, and all thy power
Must yeild to Heav'ns assaults; thy April showre
Has no continuance: therefore do not strive
Against a God, whose Wisdom can contrive
What pleases him: Alas! thy state is grounded
Upon contingencies, thou art compounded
Of nothing but uncertainties; thy arm
Assumes no power, except it be to harm
Thy wilful self: Then why wilt thou contend
With him that importunes to be thy friend?
Thy friend, (soul-saving word) what higher bliss
Can crown a heart, then such a Friend as this?
Oh life of Ravishment! how can it be
A God, a worm, and yet a sympathie?
Strange condescention! was the like e're known,
Or spoke by any mouth, except his own?
His balmy breath declares, that he will save
And succor those that faithfully do crave
His blest assistance: Hark, and hear him say,
Ye that are heavy loaded, come away,
Oh come to me, I am content to bear
Your burthens, and extenuate your care.
What higher note of love was ever strain'd
To any ear? Oh how hath man obtain'd
So great a friendship! 'Tis a happy lot,
Nay, and a wonder not to be forgot.
And yet it is not strange, that he should prove
So true a Lover, that's compos'd of Love,
And can do nothing else: If he correct,
'Tis for thy crimes; he only has th'effect
Of anger: for his grieved Spirit moans
To punish sinners, and to hear their groans.
His Soul takes no delight to crush to death
The offending pris'oners of th'inferior Earth:
He is the rich Exchequor of all good,
And is by nothing (except man) withstood.
All things perform what they was made to do,
But only man, that strives to prove untrue
To his Creator: nothing can be found
Within thy breast, but that which is unsound.
How sad it is to hear th'Almighty say,
I've nourish'd children, that are gone astray,
And scorn to own me! Oh rebellious dust!
That hate my paths, because my ways are just.
The Ox will know his Owner, and the Ass
His Masters crib; but Israel, alas,
Will not acknowledg me, but have destroy'd
Themselves, & made their understandings voyd:
Was not my fury then just cause to swell,
Because they can do nothing but rebel?

Nefandeous Creature, how canst thou endure
Thy wretched self? Ah, why wilt thou procure
Thine own destructions? Shall all creatures be
Obedient to their owners, only thee?
And wilt thou not acknowledg him that gave
Large blessings to thee, and desires to save
Thy soul from torments, if thou wouldst incline
Thy will to his, whose thoughts are all divine?
Forget obduracy, and learn the art
Of loving him, that loves an upright heart:
Go ruminate upon thy base estate,
And be, unto thy self, compassionate.
Yeild to thy Maker with a cheerful brow?
First know what 'tis to love, and after, how.
Love is the Laws fulfiller; he that will
Love God aright, must practise how to fill
His Soul with true affection; for the ways
Of Heav'n are pav'd with Love: Immortal praise
Attend his Courts; He that forgets to Love
Forgets his God: They that desire to prove
Heav'ns amatorious Guests, must first admire
How such a spark as Man came to aspire
To such a flame, and how he came to be,
Not only Earths, but Heav'ns, Epitomie:
Be serious then, and let thy thoughts reflect
Upon Heav'ns goodness, and thy disrespect.

God out of Nothing (except Love) compil'd
This spacious World, as if some princely child
Were to be born: His providential care
Was (as it were) ambitious to prepare
The quintessence of pleasures to invite
Some stately Guest to banquet with delight.
First he extracted from a darksom Cell
A glorious Light, whose beauty pleas'd him well
Then he prepar'd a Canopie, inlayd
With glittring pearl, whose twinkling luster made
Heav'nly shew; and afterwards his hand
Pusht back the waters from the naked Land:
Then he commanded, that the Earth, being come
Out from the Oceans new delivered womb,
Would be adorn'd with an imbroidered Gown,
That so her new-warm'd bowels might abound
With several fruits.—

—Thus having playd his part
Upon this Theatre, this life of art,
[illeg.]sher'd in a thing, which pleas'd him best,
(He made the Feast, and after made the Guest;)
Call'd by the name of Man, a naked, small,
And dusty, shiftless Creature; this was all,
And all this nothing, but a lump of death,
Until inspir'd by Heav'ns all-quickning breath.
[illeg.]in, simple wretch; ah, how could'st thou behave
Thy self before a Judg, so great, so grave?
Hadst thou but seen thy self, thou would'st have cry'd
Thy self to death, and with a blush, defy'd
Thy base estate, to think that thou should'st be
Natures most rude and base Anatomie.
Wouldst thou expect that Heav'n would entertain
Nothing so poor? so weak? so vile? so vain?
Which, like a spark blown from a new-made fire
Can only shew it self, and then expire,
Was it for this the All-Creator made
Such large Provision? Was't for this he layd
Such rich Foundations? Was't for this his Power
Deckt this well-pleasing odoriferous Bower?
Was it for this (this little world) he form'd
A world so great? Was it for this he warm'd
The Earths chill bosom? Was't for this he spent
His six days labour? Was't for this intent
He made a Paradise? where Flora spread
Her fragrant Off-spring, and made Earth a bed
Of rare compounded Pleasures, where he plac'd
This new-come Guest, whose very looks disgrac'd
The face of beauty, to whose thriftless hand
He gave that Government, with this Command

Of all the trees that here thou dost behold,
Thy lips being authoriz'd, thou mayst be bold
To taste with freedom, only one, which I
Conjure thee from, therefore restrain thine eye
From lusting after it; if not, thy breath
Shall glut it self in everlasting death:
Forget not my Commands, but let thy brest
Be always faithful, and thou shalt be blest.

Thus the Recorder having spoke at large
This well-deliv'red (although ill-kept) Charge
He after said;
It is not good that man should be alone
Without a help, Ile therefore make him one.
Oh sacred prudence! Here we may discern
A sweet Conjunction; here our Souls may learn
Wisdom and Love, both which, if not enjoy'd,
Pleasures prove vanities, and blessings voyd.
Heav'n, whose unidle art-ful hand had set
Man, as Jewell, in his Cabinet,
Thought it unfit, that those delights which he
Had made by his most powerfull Love, should be
Monopoliz'd by one, he therefore laid
Adam asleep, and having done, he made
Out of a crooked rib (strange kind of art)
A woman, fair, compleat, in every part;
Nay, and a helper too: for in conclusion
She helpt poore Adam to his own confusion.
Oh most detested deed! Unconstant wife,
To prove a Traytor to thy husbands life
As soon as made: Fond wretch, could nothing suit
With thy nice pallate, but forbidden fruit?
Oh, could thy longing lie no longer hid?
What? did'st thou long, because thou wert forbid?
Was there no tree that could content thy eye,
But only that which was forbidden? Fie,
Oh shame to think thou shouldst so quickly waste
Thine hours of pleasure for a minutes taste:
Couldst thou not like, or fall in love with any
But that? Heav'n had but one, & thou hadst many
Wherewith to please thine appetite; and yet
Wouldst thou prove so ambitious, as to sit
Upon the highest twigg? Ah, could th'advice
Of Satan tempt thee to this avarice
With so much ease, and make thee rashly do
So foul a deed, and tempt thy Adam too?
Preposterous wretch, how hast thou spread a cloud
Over thy head? What? didst thou think to shroud
Thy self from vengeance? Having eat thy death
Couldst thou expect to live? Oh no, thy breath
Offended Heav'n: but ah, hadst thou but thought
(Before thy heart had entertain'd a fault
So great as this) what 'twas to dye, thy mind
Had made thee more abstemious, and confin'd
Thy base inordinate desires; thy meat
Had prov'd delightful, and thy comforts great
But now, unhappy now, thy crimes have made
Thy Soul Deaths debtor, and thou art betray'd
By thine own self; therefore prepare to meet
Thy wrathful Judg: 'tis said, stoln goods are sweet
But thine prov'd sour, the fruits wch thou hast stole
Sugar'd thy mouth, but worm woodiz'd thy soul
When thou hadst eaten, Ah! why didst thou not
Tremble to death, to think thou hadst forgot
Thy Gods Commands, & that his Judgments must
Follow thy soul, and blow thee into dust?

Thus Eve, thus Adam, having vilipended
Their Gods Commands, their happines soon ended;
Their joys were turn'd to mourning, & their light
Was turn'd to darkness, and their day to night:
Both being too much conscious, fled with speed
To hide themselves from God, but not the deed.

Even as some poor distressed wretch desires
To hide himself from the enraged fires
Of his incensed Foe, runs up and down
To shun the rage of a condemned frown;
At last observing his enquiring Foe
Approach the place, lies still, and dares not blow,
For fear the wordless Eccho of his breath
Should soon betray him to a sudden death:
Being at last discry'd, his throbbing heart
Gives an Alarum to each trembling part;
Fear, like an Earthquake, then begins to shake
His loos'ned joynts, he knows not how to make
A ready answer to his foes demands;
[illeg.], as a sad convicted man, he stands
Abjected to his will, that can dispence
With nothing, but with death, to calm th'offence.
Even so guilt-loaded Adam having done
A deed so foul, prepares himself to run
To some close shelter, where he might immure
His naked body, and repose secure:
But ah, in vain, in vain he strove to hide
Himselfe from God, that need implore no guide
To teach him where his sad offender lay;
He needs must find, when sin hath chalk'd th'way
But when Heav'ns shril-enquiring voyce surrounded
The ears of Adam, Adam was confounded
With deep distress, his heart began to call
His quivering Senses to a Funerall:
Fear, like a powerfull fire, began to thaw
His frozen thoughts, and keep his Soul in awe
He breath'd in a Dilemma, and could find
No Sanctuary for a perjur'd mind:
At last the language of th'eternal God
Storm'd his sin-armed Soul, and like a Rod
Whipt him from his security, and cry'd,
Adam, where art thou? Adam thus reply'd,
I heard thee walking in the pleasing shade
Of the cool ev'ning, and I was afraid,
And hid my self, because I must confess,
I blusht to see my shameful nakedness.