The works of Sir William Mure of Rowallan Edited with introduction, notes, and glossary by William Tough |
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The works of Sir William Mure of Rowallan | ||
Grounds of Comfort and Encouragement for the Secret Mourners of England (and els where) resolving stedfastnes in the Covenant.
But tym'st Thou, with deep sighs, thy Song? do tears
Their fountaines force, and Muse, while Britaine hears
No language but Alarmes, no milder sounds
Then of engadgements, Tumults, Death and Wounds?
Weep, justly weep. Tears sute the season. This,
A day, in which God calls for mourning, is,
A gloomy day, in which the Childe of Light
Sitt's in the shads of darknes, short of sight.
The day of Joseph's straits; of deep distresse
To many a precious soul, chaisde (for redresse)
To him who's Mighty, on whom help is layd,
His suffring Members, by his Arme to ayd,
(His Arme, that earst proud Rahab, and the snaike
In peeces cut, and way through waves did make)
That yet made bare, it may awake, to wound
The Dragon's Seed, from principles unsound
Which poison spreading and dispersing snares
The simpler to surprise, by fraud or fears
Unstable souls seduce; from whence (the way
Of Truth blasphem'd) are vexd, from day to day,
The souls of Saints; while men, who mischief frame,
Like raging waves, foame forth their filth and shame.
Their fountaines force, and Muse, while Britaine hears
No language but Alarmes, no milder sounds
Then of engadgements, Tumults, Death and Wounds?
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A day, in which God calls for mourning, is,
A gloomy day, in which the Childe of Light
Sitt's in the shads of darknes, short of sight.
The day of Joseph's straits; of deep distresse
To many a precious soul, chaisde (for redresse)
To him who's Mighty, on whom help is layd,
His suffring Members, by his Arme to ayd,
(His Arme, that earst proud Rahab, and the snaike
In peeces cut, and way through waves did make)
That yet made bare, it may awake, to wound
The Dragon's Seed, from principles unsound
Which poison spreading and dispersing snares
The simpler to surprise, by fraud or fears
Unstable souls seduce; from whence (the way
Of Truth blasphem'd) are vexd, from day to day,
The souls of Saints; while men, who mischief frame,
Like raging waves, foame forth their filth and shame.
The Publick foe be These, O England, These
Shall Tasks enjoyne, and straiten (as they please)
The cords of thy Captivity, at best
The rods are, on the Righteous lot that rest.
How-ever bound in Conscience to resent
Their practises, whence doth arise our Rent,
To you, for War, do not our Trumpets sound.
No. Your sad posture doth our Spirits wound,
In order unto which resolv'd we have
With you, and for you, to our League to cleave,
With Charity to All, who pure and clean
To keep their Garments, upon guard have been,
And waiting are, God's Way and Time to take,
The Yock of bondage from thrald necks to shake
That, (as sweet fruits from these effects) may spring
The Fear of God, and Honour of the King.
Shall Tasks enjoyne, and straiten (as they please)
The cords of thy Captivity, at best
The rods are, on the Righteous lot that rest.
How-ever bound in Conscience to resent
Their practises, whence doth arise our Rent,
To you, for War, do not our Trumpets sound.
No. Your sad posture doth our Spirits wound,
In order unto which resolv'd we have
With you, and for you, to our League to cleave,
With Charity to All, who pure and clean
To keep their Garments, upon guard have been,
And waiting are, God's Way and Time to take,
The Yock of bondage from thrald necks to shake
That, (as sweet fruits from these effects) may spring
The Fear of God, and Honour of the King.
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Awake to duties then; your eyes be fixd
Upon these ends. Become shall Ephraim (mix'd
Among the People) like an unturn'd Cake,
Or heartlesse Dove, discourag'd, faint, and weak?
God (doubtlesse) for himself, airl'd (earst) in Thee
A Church O England, set from darknesse free,
While at the stake, thy faithfull Martyrs stood
A good Confession, sealing with their blood.
Yea, God the Bargan (yet again) renewd
When that espoused Land, with love pursud,
His Covenant did swear, and at low rate
Did value lives, that Jesus might be great.
Upon these ends. Become shall Ephraim (mix'd
Among the People) like an unturn'd Cake,
Or heartlesse Dove, discourag'd, faint, and weak?
God (doubtlesse) for himself, airl'd (earst) in Thee
A Church O England, set from darknesse free,
While at the stake, thy faithfull Martyrs stood
A good Confession, sealing with their blood.
Yea, God the Bargan (yet again) renewd
2. As a Land which hath revived the Bargan afresh with Christ, having sworn his Covenant and sealed it with so many lives, sacrificed for it, there. God hath in wisedom made the enemy in that land be seen in their Colours, hath gathered together with arms in their hands, and permitted to stur (as he hath set the bounds) for manifesting his own Glory in his Churche's Deliverance, by their more speedy overthrow, and the fuller execution of fury upon them.
When that espoused Land, with love pursud,
His Covenant did swear, and at low rate
Did value lives, that Jesus might be great.
Lo! God hath wisely, and to purpose, brought
His foes together arm'd, for Armes who sought,
And let them out a link, that stir they may,
Yet so as no where, but as He gives way,
Thus shall He in one houre, or day, decide
What else some ages dispute might abide.
His foes together arm'd, for Armes who sought,
And let them out a link, that stir they may,
Yet so as no where, but as He gives way,
Thus shall He in one houre, or day, decide
What else some ages dispute might abide.
Wait on ye then, whose weight is Sion's case;
Wait on that Holy One who hides his face
From Jacob's house; sure, He you gather shall,
And tenderly deal with his remnants small.
Wait on that Holy One who hides his face
From Jacob's house; sure, He you gather shall,
And tenderly deal with his remnants small.
For our correction, and their overthrow
Who 'gainst him first ingadg'd, hath God this foe
Rais'd up, but heard shall in its season be
The vision. Issu'd forth is the decree.
Who 'gainst him first ingadg'd, hath God this foe
Rais'd up, but heard shall in its season be
The vision. Issu'd forth is the decree.
But friends their fit time, foes their fatall houre,
It's time God's Glory (from His acts of pow'r)
Their times, yea promises conditionall
Have for accomplishment. The work withall
Its time of best advantage hath. Assign'd
To each the proper time is. Till we finde
All in one point to meet, none may complain,
Nor of delayes a jealous thought retain.
Let this suffice, your times are in his hand,
Who from the fire can pluck a kindled brand,
And like a mighty man, rous'd up from sleep,
Shall help right early, and the best time keep.
It's time God's Glory (from His acts of pow'r)
Their times, yea promises conditionall
Have for accomplishment. The work withall
Its time of best advantage hath. Assign'd
To each the proper time is. Till we finde
All in one point to meet, none may complain,
Nor of delayes a jealous thought retain.
Let this suffice, your times are in his hand,
Who from the fire can pluck a kindled brand,
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Shall help right early, and the best time keep.
His Reck'ning from Eternity he laid,
And times, and wayes, and means harmonious made
To bring to passe His Ends; and did foresee
Delayes, which arbitrary were and free,
To his deep wisdome, gainfull. So though (now)
Ye know not what he doth, ere-long to you
His face he shall unvail. Then make no hast,
Yee who by faith, on promises can feast,
But patience shew, till God shall give the word,
Which Heaven and Earth to publish shall accord.
Let Colours fly, Drums beat. Gird on your Swords.
Arme, Gallants, Arme. The Battell is the Lord's.
And times, and wayes, and means harmonious made
To bring to passe His Ends; and did foresee
Delayes, which arbitrary were and free,
To his deep wisdome, gainfull. So though (now)
Ye know not what he doth, ere-long to you
His face he shall unvail. Then make no hast,
Yee who by faith, on promises can feast,
But patience shew, till God shall give the word,
Which Heaven and Earth to publish shall accord.
Let Colours fly, Drums beat. Gird on your Swords.
Arme, Gallants, Arme. The Battell is the Lord's.
The works of Sir William Mure of Rowallan | ||