University of Virginia Library

Are all hopes fled? and is there no relief?
Must man still wander in the shades of grief?
Will not the eye of Heav'n be pleas'd to shine
Upon his Soul, but leave him in the brine
Of his own sins? Is there no warbling voice
Can charm his ears, and woo him to rejoice
In being pitifull? Will nothing move
The much incensed Soul of Heav'n to love?
Man [Map of Misery] who can prevail
In thy requests? Or who cut off th'entail
Of thy distresse? 'Tis not a writ of Error
Can satisfie, or guard thee from the terror
Of thine own Conscience, which will alway stare
Upon thy face, and load thee with dispair:
'Tis not a Habeas Corpus will remove
The body of thy sin, none can disprove
The Will of God, what he resolves to doe
Must neither be withstood, nor div'd into:
It lyes beyond thy power to perswade
Thy God to pity, whom thy sins have made
A wrathfull Judge; what he intends, must be
Derived from himself, and not from thee;
For thou hast nothing in thee worth the name
Of good, because thy glory's turn'd to shame:
Thou art corrupt and vile in every part,
And who can know the evill of thy heart;
Which like the Ocean, that no art nor eye
Can search her bottome, or her banks discry:
Therefore till heav'n shall please to change the state
Of thy condition; Reason bids thee wait;
For be assur'd, the promis'd seed will spread
It selfe abroad, and bruise the Serpents head.
Even as the Fountain, whose exuberous brest
Is alwaies fluent, and admits no rest;
But with a cheerfull willingnesse she sends
Her crystal tokens to her smaller friends.

Even so our God distilleth from above
The healing streams of his refreshing love;
For ah the lustre of his Sun-bright eye
Is drown'd in tears, when our sad Souls prove dry!
Oh admiration! that a God so just
Should rain down floods upon a heap of dust!
Oh Mercy! that so much incens'd a God
Should send forth Mercy, and keep in his Rod!
His Soul is fill'd with pity, and his eyes
Begin to view th'unsatiate miseries
Of Adams down-cast off-spring: Though his ear
Seems unto us resolved not to hear
Their bitter cries, nor note the sad Devotions
Of their contristed hearts; yet by the Motions
Of his blest Soul, he sends his Son and Heir
Into this wretched world, that he might bear
The Cross of our Transgressions, and expell
The clouds of sin, and conquer Death and Hell:
Thus by his death we liv'd, and by his grief
Our new-calm'd Souls were furnisht with relief.
Oh sudden change! That winde which did before
Drive wretched man upon the threat'ning shore
Of unavoiding ruine, fills the sails
Of his desires with milde and prosperous gales;
The Boreas of his sin does now surcease
His full-mouth'd blasts, and Zephyrus speaks peace
Unto his shipwrack'd Soul, and now he rides
Upon the new-tam'd backs of pleasing Tydes.
Oh that my tongue were able to rehearse
The Love of God with an Angelike Verse!
Oh that some heav'nly Deity would fill
The black mouth'd concave of my wandring quill
With pure celestial Ink, that I might write
In heav'nly characters, and learn t'indite
Jehovahs praises in a style as high
As my desires, and make the lofty Skie
Eccho with Hallelujahs, that the Earth
May (like a Midwife) hug the joyful birth
Of every word, and make each corner ring
(With peals of Joy) the Glories of our King:

Is man deliver'd from the painful womb
Of his foul sin, and raised from the tomb
Of everlasting death? and shall not we
Applaud that hand which set such pris'ners free?
What, shall we be afraid to crack and break
The chains of silence, and attempt to speak
The dialects of Angels? No: let's call
Upon his name, that rais'd us from a Fall.
Let's stretch our lungs, and with a warbling breath
[illeg.]ng to the life, how we were rais'd from death:
And when our tongues are wearied, let's express
By heav'nly signs our real thankfulness.
But stay, where runs my quill? what, have I lost
My self in raptures? or else am I tost
Into the air of pleasure by the winde
Of true delight? If Passion proves so kinde,
I am content, Oh may I alwaies rest
Adorn'd and crown'd with a Heav'n-ravisht brest!
O love ineffable! Must wretched Man,
The spawn of baseness, and the unmeasur'd span
Of everlasting infancy, be made
Loves object? Must th'Almighty's love be said
To dwell in Man, whose tongue cannot deliver
The least of thanks unto so great a Giver?

Will the Sun-gazing Eagle, that soars high,
Descend t'assist the web-infolded Fly?
Will he that hearkens with a willing ear
To pleasing musick, turn away to hear
Confounding discords? or will any woo
A perjur'd enemy to come and go
Unto his Courts? will any hand forbear
To strike at him that labours to impair
His worth, and contumeliously upbraid
His upright deeds? Will he that is betray'd
Affect the Traytor, and with patience sue
For reconcilement, when as death is due?
All this blest Heav'n will doe, that he might place
Vain man within the Covenant of Grace.
Consider man, how often hath this mirror
Of pure affection woo'd thee from thine error?
Thou unconsiderate dust, which every winde
Can puff away, how canst thou prove unkinde
To such a Lover, that delights to spin
His bowels out, to nourish thee within
His milky bosom? Shall his bounty crave
Thy base acceptance? shall he be a slave
To his own slaves? Ah, shall thy God implore,
And beg of beggars to receive his store?
Does he, whom Heav'n and Earth cannot contain,
No nor the heav'n of heav'ns, stoop down to gain
Thy dull respects? And ah, wilt thou not raise
Thy stupid Soul an inch to give him praise?
Thy fervent prayers he alwaies will admit,
Then how canst thou remember to forget
A God so mindfull? How canst thou forbear
To numerate his love without a tear?
How can thine eyes (when thou observ'st the Sun)
Refuse to weep to see him daily run
His painfull progress, and rejoice to greet
The earth with lustre to direct thy feet,
Thy sinfull feet, which every moment slide
Into Rebellion, loaded with thy pride;
How canst thou choose, when thou behold'st the ground
Whereon thou tread'st, but voluntary drown'd
Thy self in briny floods, to think what care
Indulgent Heav'n hath taken to prepare
For thee, before thou wert, and how his hand
Hath for thy profit, fertiliz'd the Land?
How can thy rocky heart refuse to vent
A stream of blood, when thou behold'st th'extent
Of the unbounded Ocean, how it hides
Within the bosome of her swelling Tydes,
Diversities of fish, which live to feed
Thy gulf of gluttony at time of need?
Uncloud thy thoughts (O Man) and thou shalt see
He who ordained all these things for thee,
Created thee for him, that thou may'st give
The praise to him, that lends thee leave to live.
Be serious Man, consider how thou hast
Converted all these blessings into waste:
Know that the great Edificer of things
Furnish'd thy Soul with Reason, gave thee wings
To fly above all mortals, and hath crown'd
Thy head with heaps of honour, and hath bound
Inferior creatures, prentice to thy will;
And this he did, because thou should'st fulfill
Thy Gods Commands; but thou that wert the best
Hast made thy self more loathsome than the rest,
And by thy most detested deviation
Abus'd thy glory, of thy free Creation:
Though the Majestick Eagles will despise
To be assistants to th'intangled Flies;
Yet Heav'n will from his lofty Throne descend,
And with a speedy cheerfulnesse defend
The sons of men, who daily are betray'd
By those insiduous snares which Satan lay'd
T'intrap their Souls: Alas, how voyd of care
Is heedlesse man! How subject to a snare!
But he, whose more than superficiall love
Is alwayes active, lab'ring to improve
Our hearts with thankfulnesse, denies to let
Our Souls be taken in th'eternall net
Of unconceived misery, and live
In lasting death, not having power to give
The least of drops unto our howling tongues,
But suck the flames, untill our sulphurous lungs
Crackle, and belch forth brimstone, till we tire
Our Carbonado'd members in a fire
That's inextinct; the more we strive to turn
Our parched Souls, still more and more they burn.
Resolve these things within thy serious mind;
Oh Man! let Love instruct thee to be kind
To him that's loving; doe not disrespect
A God, whose Soul so dearly can affect:
Pour out thy thoughts, and practice to relent,
And let thy thoughts induce thee to repent:
Grasp opportunity, Time's alwayes flying;
God's alwayes living, and thou alwayes dying:
Dye then, before thou dy'st, redeem the time,
Because thy dayes are evill; learn to clime
Jacobs erected ladder; thou shalt set
Th'adst better clime a Ladder, than a Tree,
As Judas did: Be wise, and doe not fan
Thy Soul with air; remember what a span
Thou art; remember whose inspired breath
Made thee a Soul; forget not whose sad death
Made thee alive; be mindfull that thou art
Th'Epitomy of Heav'n; inure thy heart
To love the best of loves, so shall thy brest
Be fill'd with comfort, and thy Soul with rest:
Prepare and know, the very fowls delight
To prune their wings before they take their flight.
Although terrestiall Kings will not permit
A Traytor to his Courts, nor let him sit
Before his presence, though they will not hear
A Malefactors prayers; yet Heav'ns blest ear
Is alwayes open, and his tongue invites
Repentant sinners, for his eye delights
To view them in his Courts when they appear;
For muddy waters, may at last prove dear;
'Tis not unlike; ill scented dunghills may
At last bear flowers; that which is foul to day,
To morrow may prove fair; the thing that cost
Millions of silver, may as well be lost,
As things of smaller value; Heav'n can spy
A mite, as well as mountains; for his eye
Is lodg'd in every cranny of mans heart,
And he knowes all, that searches every part.
Where breathes that Mortall that can comprehend
The wayes and thoughts of God, who knowes the end
Of his beginning?—