University of Virginia Library

The lost Sheepe.

Sith that the heauen of heauens
where God and angels be,
Is made the seate wheron I sit,
by mightyest power decree:
And that the Earth beneath,
where hearbe and grasse doth growe,
Where men and beasts and liuing things
do creepe thereon and goe:
Is for my foot the stoole,
ordeined long before,
Yer world was wrought, or angell made,
or ought else lesse or more.
Sith I am Lord thereof,
and all these thinges be mine,
Then tell me man what moueth thee,
from me thus to decline?
And seekest other waies,
these things for to obtaine:
So fond and frantike is thy wit,
so feeble is thy braine,
Which way thou car'st not how,
rather than come to me:
Being the well and fountaine spring
of all good things that be.
I also readie am,
on thee for to bestow,
Each good that is, if thou but aske,
I must my kindnesse show.
Such is my loue to thee,
not changeable, but sure,
I loued thee before thou wast,
which loue shall stil endure.
When thou a sinner wert,
and wickednesse didst vse,
To giue my bloud and life for thee,
the same did not refuse.
Thou art now iustifide,
by shedding of my bloud,
And reconciled by my death:
wherein thou art made good.
For I that knew not sin,
was yet made sinne for thee:
That thou mightst be the righteousness
of th'onlie God in mee.
And I doe thee assure,
it did me greatlie please,
To beare thy sin and wickednes,
thy weakenes and disease.
Do you but trust in me,
And stedfastlie beleeue:
There shal no torment, paine, or smart,
for any sinne thee greeue.
But through my special grace,
and mercies great in store,
Promise thee I will henceforth,
thinke on thy sinne no more.
For in the deepe alow,
and bottome of the Sea,
I haue all thine iniquities,
for euer throwne awaie.
Why doost thou toile and moile,
and after shadowes run?
And shun'st the waie that leads to me,
which am Gods onlie sonne?
I am the giuer sure,
of true felicitie:
And yet for it be very few,
that seeketh vnto me.
Beautie allureth much,
and rauisheth the mind:
And drawes vnto it flockes of men,
that louing seeme and kind.
And lo, behold and view,
nothing more faire to see
Than I, and yet not one there is,
will be in loue with me.
In honourable stiles,
doe many take delight,
And of ancient nobilitie,
doe claime descents by right.
And yet nothing there is,
of ancient high degree,
In title, stile, or chiefe descent,
that goeth before me.
For while I am the sonne
of God most glorious,
And mother mine a virgine was,
and my name is Iesus.
Which name was giuen to me,
not vnaduisedly:
Nor at aduenture, and by chance,
as names are commonly.
Nor was it giuen by man,
but by an angel sent
To tell of my Natiuitie,
the purpose and intent.
And vnder heauen there is
none other name but this:
Giuen vnto men their soules to saue
from all their trespasses.
How hapneth it therefore,
that scarsely on the ground,
Can any one that willing is
to ioyne with me be found.
In this societie
which I so much desire:
Is not for me, but for your good,
that I the same require.
I am the Monarch cheefe,
of heauen, of earth, & all,
Why then are you so loth and shamde,
to come when I you call?
I am most rich indeed,
and ready for to giue
Both great and many benefites,
to all in faith that liue.
All greatly doe desire,
and very faine would haue
Petitions made, that I might giue,
to such as on me craue.
Out now alas behold,
not one that vnderstands
How for to aske nor come to me,
to craue ought at my hands.
I am the wisedome cal'd,
of God my father deare:
And so I am in very deed,
and yet for loue ne feare,
Will any mortall wight,
vouchsafe to seeke me out,
To aske me counsell of that thing
whereof he is in doubt,
I am the brightnesse great,
of fathers glorie mine,
And of his heauenlie maiesty,
the image most diuine.
And yet no man thereby,
of what estate or gree,
The more to honour mooued is,
nor yet to reuerence me.
I am a pleasant friend,
a trustie friend also,
To him that willing is to be
my friend, and with me go.
I doe bestow my wealth,
my riches and my store,
On them I loue with willing mind,
what can be asked more?
And yet none goes about
to enter in with me:
To this sweet amiable league,
of friendships high degree.
I am the only waie,
that vnto heauen doth lead,
And yet but very few there be,
that vse my pathes to tread.
Why doe the ignorant
besotted people blind,
Not trust in me, seeing I am
the only truth to find?
Why then doost thou refuse,
my promise to beleeue:
None is so faithfull as I am,
and none may more thee greeue.
And sithe I am of life
the author, and of breath:
What meane you then, by leauing me,
to follow after death.
I am your only light,
No darkenesse is in me:
And yet will wilfull foolish men,
In darkenesse rather be.
I am the perfect rule
of liuing righteouslie,
Why then doost thou seek other formes,
To square thy life thereby?
I rarely am alone,
The pleasure sweet and true,
Without all gall or bitternesse,
[illeg.]eiected yet of you.
I am the peace of mind,
and comforter likewise,
all afflicted consciences,
when stormie troubles rise.
Why then doe not these men
That vexed be in mind,
Come vnto me for their releefe,
which they are sure to find?
If Lyons wilde and dumbe,
themselues can thankefull showe
To such as any benefite
vpon them did bestow.
Or if the Dragons fierce,
haue gratefull learn'd to bee,
Or mastife curs their masters know
and fawne when they him see.
If Eagles loue returne
to such as keepe them well:
And Dolphins likewise kindnesse sa[illeg.]
as you your selues can tell:
If other beastes likewise,
depri'ud of reasons sence,
Can to their benefactors vse
both loue and reuerence:
Why wilt thou then (ô Man)
thy selfe set forth to be,
More brutish than the sauage beasts,
denying loue to me?
Seeing that to thy vse,
and onely for thy sake,
All things that be, yea thou thy selfe
of nothing did I make.
And with my precious bloud,
redeemed thee haue I,
From sin, from death, from hell depth
and that most willingly.
And if the oxe doth know,
his owner that him fed,
The asse likewise his maisters crib,
that standeth him in stead:
Why doost not thou vnkind,
and churlish man to mee,
Acknowledge me to be the same,
that hath redeemed thee?
I am alone to thee,
all things that thou would haue:
And I alone will furnish thee,
with all things thou canst craue.
Why runnest thou about,
gadding from place to place,
To seeke elsewhere thy benefit,
distrusting of my grace:
Why busiest thou thy selfe,
in many needlesse waies,
And dost frequent the companie,
of skornefull wicked straies?
As I am mercifull,
so easie to intreat:
Thou wretched man seeke vnto me,
despaire not though I threat.
Yea sith I am the iust
reuenger of thy sin:
Why therefore art thou not afraid,
me to offend therein?
I can euen with a becke,
cast downe thy soule to hell,
And yet my iudgements fearest not,
nor all the threats I tell.
Wherefore thou foolish man,
if thou so wilfull be,
Headlong to run vnto thy death,
by thy forsaking me:
Blame but thy selfe therefore,
and blame not me at all,
For thou thy selfe the author art,
of thy decaie and fall.
For what can I doe more?
seeing th'excessiue loue,
That I thee bare with tender care,
can no whit thee remoue.
O flintie harted man,
with rockie stonie brest:
Which cannot be with loue reclaim'd,
nor mercies mine exprest.
Nor will perswaded be,
with such an hope assur'd,
Of heauenly ioyes and riches great,
ready for thee procur'd:
Nor can awaked be,
with promises diuine:
Nor any whit be terrifide,
with seuere sentence mine:
Nor be admonished,
with any shame of sin:
But rather so egregiouslie,
perseuer still therein:
That thou doost far surmount,
the sauage beasts in kind,
And doost possesse an yron hart,
more hard than steele to find.
What can pittie preuaile,
alas, in such a place,
In such a peruerse froward hart,
becankred void of grace?
To saue one gainst his will,
and rid him from distresse,
Doth neither stand with wisdoms law,
nor yet with righteousnesse.