Divine Meditations upon Several Subjects :: :: University of Virginia Library

Divine Meditations upon Several Subjects

Whereunto is annexed, God's Love, and Man's Unworthinesse. With Several Divine Ejaculations. Written by John Quarles

Quarles, John (1624-1665)

[dedication]

[section]

To my Muse.

DIVINE MEDITATIONS Upon severall subjects.

Gods Love, and Mans Unworthinesse.

[[THE FIRST BOOK.]]

II.

THE SECOND BOOK OF GODS LOVE, AND Mans Unworthiness.

A DIALOGUE Between the Soul and Satan.

The Souls Thankefulnesse, and Request to God.

Divine Ejaculations.

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Gods Love, and Mans Unworthinesse.

[[THE FIRST BOOK.]]

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.

GOD.
Tell me, thou trembling wretch, how dost thou know
That thou art naked? say, who told thee so?

What? has thy lips usurp'd the fruit which I
Conjur'd thee not to touch? if so, reply.

Adam.
The woman which thou gav'st me, gave to me,
And I did eat of the forbidden tree.

GOD.
Unconstant woman! Ah, why hast thou run
Beyond thy bounds? what's this that thou hast done?

Woman.
The Serpents flowing language swel'd too great
For my low banks: he tempted, and I eat.

Gods Curse against the Serpent.

Because thou hast thus subtilty deluded
The lustful woman, thou shalt be excluded
From future good; more shall thy curses yield
Then all the beasts and cattle in the field:
Thy belly shall (because thou hast done this)
Give to the earth a life-remaining kiss;
Thou shalt not taste of any thing that's good,
Dust shall supply the place of wholesome food.
Curst be thy ways, thou shalt no more be seen
By me: I will put enmity between

Thy seed and hers; hereafter thou shalt feel
A bruised head, and she a bruised heel.

Gods Curse against the woman.

And as for thee, oh Woman, I'le enlarge
Thy grief and thy conception; I'le discharge
Thy joys, and load thee with a weighty grief;
Thy pains in child-bed shall find no relief:
Thou shalt desire thy husband, and his hand
Shall over-rule thee with a strict command.

Adams Curse.

Rebellious Adam, unto thee I'le give
A life as bad as death, for thou shalt live
To see thy sorrows more and more abound,
And for thy sake I'le curse the loathed ground;
For thou hast hark'ned to the conquering voyce
Of thy frail wife, and made my fruit thy choyce
And sepulchred my words within the grave
Of thy false heart; begon, thou selfe-made slave
The thorny ground shall give a large increase
To thy laborious hand; the name of Peace
Shall prove a stranger to thy ears, and thou
Shalt eat thy bread with a sweat-dropping brow
I'le murther all thy joys; thy brest shall burn
With flaming care, untill thy corps return

To the bowels of th'inclusive earth,
From whence thou hadst thy substance, and thy birth:
But base thou art, and therefore thou shalt be
Food for gnawing worms, and not for me:
As thou art dust, to dust thou shalt retire;

Hereafter let not dust presume't aspire.
Change alteration! Oh pernicious Fate!
So quickly bred in such an infant-state!
He that but even now enioy'd a life
Balanc'd with pleasures, now is fill'd with strife:
He whose majestick Soul was lately crown'd
With blest content, is now ingulf'd, and drown'd
In Sorrows Ocean; He, which was before
Touch'd with happiness, is now as poor
As poverty can make him; He, which had
The countenance of Heav'n to make him glad,
Is now eclipst; he knows not where to run,
[illeg.] having interpos'd between the Sun
And his dark Soul, the Center of whose rest
Now remov'd, and he survives unblest:
[illeg.] which but even now had leave to dwell
[illeg.]d revel in Heav'ns eye, desires a Cell
[illeg.] entertaine him; he, which liv'd in Peace,
Now thrown down, and forfeited his lease:
[illeg.]at was his Crime, great was his sudden Fall,
[illeg.]at was his Tenement, his rent but small:

Poor Adam's taken by his own decoys;

Sin is the Sequestrator of all joys.
Sad Pilgrim of the world, where wilt thou find
(In the unpathed earth) a place so kind
To entertain thee? Ah, where wilt thou keep
(Thus tumbled from a Precipice so steep)
Thy sad unpeopl'd randezvouz? Oh where
Wilt thou procure a hand that will unsnare
Th'intangled Soul? Alas thy wearied life
Hath two most sad companions; first a Wife,
Then a bad Conscience; what two greater crosse
Can hang upon a brest, whose cares, whose losse
Are grown so infinit, that no relief,
But what distils from Heav'n, can ease their grief
Thou wert the first of men that entertain'd
So grand a sorrow, thou the first that stain'd
So pure a colour, thou the first that dwelt
In Edens garden, thou the first that felt
The scourge of fury; hadst not thou transgrest,
Vengeance had found no hand, nor grief a breast
Ah, hadst not thou offended, sin had found
No habitation, nor thy Soul a wound:
Had not thy hand so wilfully unlock'd
The door of Death, Destruction had not knock'd
At thine impenetrable gates, or ventur'd
T'approach so near, but being open'd, enter'd

Bold Customer of fate, that sought about
To come within, and turn poor Adam out;
Thy strēgth outstrengthd his strēgth, & made him weak
A vessel crack'd, how can it chuse but leak?
[illeg.]n prov'd Deaths father, & mans heart the womb
That brought it forth; this death shall find a tomb
When the Determiner of time hath hurl'd
[illeg.] finis to the volume of the world;
[illeg.] then, man (mortaliz'd by sin) must be
[illeg.] subject unto Deaths Soveraigntie.

Poor man, in what a wilderness of sorrow
Dost thou now ramble in; where wilt thou borrow
A minutes rest; On what inclining ear
Wilt thou expend thy groans? what canst thou hear
[illeg.]t dialects of misery to vex
Thy bankrupt thoughts? The fatal disrespects
Of Heav'n will blow and toss thee up and down
From place to place, his still-renewed frown
Will follow thee; therefore provide t'endure
The hot pursutes of such a fierce pursuer:
Canst thou expect that this thy grand abuse
Which runs beyond the limits of excuse)
Can be forgotten; Dost thou think t'out-live
Thy long-liv'd crimes, or hope for power to give
[illeg.]e satisfaction to thy God, whose rage
Thy heart cannot endure, much less asswage?

Most lachrymable state! What canst thou do,
Oh man that may ingratiate or renew
Thy former love? Alas, thy base condition
Makes thee incapable of a Petition.
Prepare thy selfe, see if thou canst invade
His Soul with pray'rs, see if thou canst perswade
His Heart to yeeld unto thy sad request,
And re-inthorne thee with thy former rest;
Dissect thy Soul with groans, anatomize
Thy heart with sighs, and let thy winged cries
Fly through the angles of his sacred ear
And breed a harmony within the sphere
Of his blest Soul; be circumspect, and lay
The best foundation; hear what Heav'n will say.

Adams Petition to God.

Incensed Father of eternal light,
Permit a darkened Soul t'approach the sight
Of thine incomparable eye; unmask
Thy anger-clouded Soul, and let me ask
Forgiveness for those loading Crimes which press
My stagg'ring Soul, I know not whom t'address
My apostate self unto, but only thee,
Whom I offended; Please to pity me:
I have no pleasing Sacrifice t'attone
Thy wrathful Brest, except a hearty groan

That's quadrupl'd with grief; Oh deign to look
Upon the lines of my all-blotted book:
Although I'm full of most detested spots,
Yet Lord, I know that thou canst read my blots;
Oh read them then, and let thy mercies run
With thy progressive eye; I am undone,
If not forgiven; Lord I thee implore
To shew some mercy to me, thou hast store,
Discipher all my sins, and let them not
Bear record in thy rouls, but rest forgot;
Revoke this Act of death, that I may sing
Th'admired mercies of so blest a King.
Oh lift me up, that now am thrown below;
Make not my Soul the Custom-house of woe.
Oh hear these bitter groans that I have spent,
And send some comfort from thy Parliament.

Gods Reply.

Thou skelleton of baseness, hie thee hence,
Disturb me not; return, I say, from whence
Thou cam'st at first; thou shalt as soon remove
A mountain, as my mind: I cannot love,
No nor I will not, nothing shall intreat
My resolutions, for my fury's great.
Begone, proud Rebel, do not think thy prayers,
Thy vows, thy groans, thy sighs, thy sobs, thy tears

Shall make my brest their receptacle; No:
How can I be a friend to such a foe?
Surcease thy importunities, let fall
Thy high desires, I will not hear thee call,
Thy sins have barr'd my ears; I'le not be won
With thy base airy words, for thou hast spun
The thread of thy destruction, therefore wear
What thou hast labour'd for, and so forbear
T'intrench upon my patience; 'tis in vain
To seek for that which thou shalt not obtain.
And is it thus, that Heav'n will not regard
My cries? Ah me! and must my groans be heard
With disrespect by him, whose tongue affords
Nothing but grief, involv'd with bitter words?
Alas, alas! what greater woe can crowd
Into a brest then to be disavow'd
By Gods high Voyce, whose most enraged breath
Darts forth the arrows of eternal death?
What shall I doe? Oh, whither shall I run
To hide my selfe, until the glorious Sun
Of his affections usher in the day
Of welcom Joy? Oh, whither shall I stray?
If I am silent, then my silence turns
My thoughts to fire; If speak my speech returns
Trebbl'd with wo, into the brazen Tower
Of my sad heart, my language has no power

To work upon his ears, my words (like balls
[illeg.]nded, and thrown against th'obdurate walls
Unyielding brest) bounds back againe, and breaks
[illeg.]to my heart, and every sorrow speaks
[illeg.] volume at a word; yet, yet must I
Return unheard; 'tis misery to dye,
And pain to live; thus in despair I draw
The loathsom air: Destruction knows no Law.
Grief rains a flood of doubt into my Soul;
[illeg.] me! I can do nothing but condole:
[illeg.]m despis'd; and if I bend the force
Of my desires to him, he will divorce
All thoughts of pity, and with rage re-double
Th'unsum'd up sums of my infringing trouble.
[illeg.] sail into the Straits, both wind and tyde
Prevail against me, and I have no guide
To Pilot me unto the long'd-for Port
Of pleasing happiness; I am a sport
To threating Ruine, whose presumptuous waves
Out-dares my Soul, whilst every blast enslaves
My reeling Pinnace: If I strive to go
Towards Scylla, Scylla will contemn my wo.
[illeg.]as in vain I can expect relief,
Scylla will bark at my unbridled grief;
[illeg.]r if my head-long vessel chance to hit
Against Charybdis; I am torn and split

Into ten thousand pieces; Oh hard hap!
Thus am I tossed in Destructions lap.
Where shall I find a heart that will advise
My friendless Soul, and audiate my cries?
I will not thus desist, I must implore,
He that's lost once, sure can be lost no more.

Adams Petition to God.

Once more, thou Metropolitan of all
The spacious world, I here presume to call
Upon thy mercy; Oh let me inherit
The pleasing fruits of thy re-pleased Spirit:
I am thy fabrick. Oh some pity take,
Preserve the building for the Builders sake.
Clothe not thy brow with frowns, but let thine eye
(That rests inshrin'd with glorious Majesty)
Reflect upon my sorrows; Oh encline
Thy willing ears to hear this grief of mine:
Oh doe not say I shall as soon remove
A mountain as thy heart, thou canst not love;
Let not such harsh, imbitter'd language flow
Out of a mouth so sweet; I know I know,
Thou art as good as great; oh therefore bow
Thy sacred ears to hear, oh hear me now:
Bestow some scraps on me, that have deserv'd
Nothing but stripes; for I have fondly swerv'd

From thy commands, & have committed treason
Against thy Majesty: Great God of Reason,
View my in-humbled Soul, see how it lies
Before thy sight, a weeping Sacrifice.
I know thou knowst I am a hainous sinner,
Yet pity me, that am a young beginner
In this rich art of begging: Do not slight
My real prayers; I know thou tak'st delight
In being merciful; Oh let me not
Return unanswer'd, or my prayers forgot:
Oh hear the sorrows of my bleeding state,
Let my complaints make thee compassionate,
And let the fervor of my language turn
Thy thoughts to pity; quench these flames that burn
My wasting Soul; speak peace to me, that find
A civil war in my uncivil mind:
Oh I have tasted of thy hot displeasure
Too much, Ah shall thy vengeance know no measure?
Say 'tis enough; though (Lord) I must confess
I have deserved more, yet give me less.
Thus with a melting heart I end my Suit,
Ah me! how bitter is forbidden fruit!

Gods Reply.

Thou bold-fac'd Orator, how dar'st thou come
Before me, or be otherwise then dumb?

Tell me, how dar'st thou interrupt my brest?
I hate to see thee, or hear thy Request.
Audacious wretch, what, has my Judgmentt made
Thy heart grow peremptory? Have I layd
Too small a burthen on thee? if I have,
I'le lay a greater, thou apostate slave:
I will not note thee, nor I will not hear
Thy words, which have usurp'd my deafned ear:
Love thee, for what? be't known, sad wretch, I scorn
To love a thing so base, so vile, forlorn;
And if I cannot love, how can it be,
That I can pity such a worm as thee?
I'le neither love, nor pity, for my heart
Is adamantine; thou shalt feel the smart
Of my displeasure: Go, my Soul disdains
To look upon thee; thou art fill'd with stains,
And smel'st too much of fruit to find respect,
Thou art the subject of my great neglect:
Thou art a barren soil, nothing will grow
Upon thy heart, except the seeds of woe.
Tell me, from what conceit dost thou derive
Thy working confidence, that thou dar'st drive
Thy language to my ears, and be so bold
T'approach my sight, and wilt not be controul'd?
Art thou resolv'd to make (what dost thou mean)
My ears thy stage, and every word a scean?

Sum up thy small, thy weak deserts, and see
What large respects thou hast deserv'd from me.
I plac'd thee in a garden, not to eat
The fruit forbidden, but to keep it neat:
Had not the violation of my Laws
Mov'd me to anger, thou hadst had no cause
T'ave felt the burthen of my weighty stroke,
Or live thus much subjected to the yoke
Of thine own sins; most shameful is that loss
That's crown'd with negligence, & great the cross
That's made with a self-hand; and they that clime
Above their strengths impropriate a crime
To their own Souls; Destruction is the end
Of all rebellion: Ruine knows no friend.

Suppose I should invest and intertain
Your Soul with love, and call thee back again,
The tree is still the same, the fruit as sweet,
Thy appetite as great, and thou mayst meet
A Serpent too, whose oratorious skill
May soon entreat thee to enact his will:
He has a voyce to tempt, and thou an ear
Will re-assume the priviledg to hear:
He has a hand to give, and thou another
Freely to take: thus wouldst thou quickly smother
Thy new delights; therefore I will not trust
A heart that can be nothing but unjust.

Thou great Mugul of baseness, cease to plead,
Thy tongue's a canker, and thy words are lead;
Thy sins have made thee not deserve the air
Thou entertain'st; hadst thou imploy'd thy care
To serve me, when I lov'd thee, thou hadst had
My heart-delighting joys to make thee glad;
But now expect no favour, for no art
Of thine shall ever captivate my heart.
Hie thee unto the shades of grief, bewail
Thy sequestrated happiness, no bail
Of thy procuring will I take to set
Thy Soul at liberty; I will not let
The vision of a comfort creep within
Thy rambling thoughts, thou art a slave to sin:
Hadst thou but lov'd or fear'd me at the first,
Th'adst been as happy, as th'art now accurst:
If now thou lov'st me, I shall quickly prove
It is for fear alone, and not for love.
Thy heart is steel'd with wickedness, thy faults
Are sparks enlivened by thy flinty thoughts.
Breathe out thy groans unto a sensless rock,
And let thy sighs (like hammers) beat and knock
Against her scragged sides, thou shalt as soon
Have her consent, as mine, to grant thy boon:
'Tis therefore vain to multiply thy words,
For ah, my brest, my hardened brest, affords

Thy Soul no pity: and the more thy cry
Attempts my ear, the less I will reply,
Alas! thy guilt-o're-burth'ned words renew
Fresh thoughts of rage, I cannot hear thee sue
Without impatiency; for ah the longer
Thou crav'st, thou mak'st my fury grow the stronger.
Avoid my presence, for I will no more
Give audience to thy voyce, then cease t'implore.

Adams Lamentation.

Undone, undone! what mountain now will hide
My lothed body from the swelling tyde
Of raging Vengeance? Whither shall I fly
T'involve my Soul with true security?
Stretch, stretch my lungs, and roar unto the deep
[illeg.] entertain me: Oh that I might sleep
Within her wavey bowels, till the blast
Of Heav'ns all-shaking thundring Voyce were past.
Oh that some rock would hear my sad request,
And give me burial in her frigid brest!
Oh that my grief extended voyce could cleave
The soild Earth, and make her to receive
My wretched limbs! Oh that some ranging beast
Would prove so courteous to devovr, and feast
Upon my corps! Oh that I could contrive
A way to live, and yet not be alive!

Ah, thus my sorrow-shaken fancy flies
And envies at impossibilities.
I fain would dye, but that I have no heart
To kill my self, and yet I feel a smart
Transcending death; I see I cannot shun
The wrath of Heav'n: Ah, thus I am undone
By my own doing, this it is to eat
Forbidden fruit: Oh most pernicious meat!
I was too rash, and rashly have I taken
A deadly fall, and falling, am forsaken:
I'm bruis'd to death, and yet I cannot dye;
Ah, what can be so much unblest as I?
I am inflamed, and I dayly drench
My Soul with tears and yet I cannot quench
My raging fires; the more I strive t'asswage
And mitigate my pains, the more they rage.
What shall I do, or whither shall I go,
To hide me from this Labyrinth of Wo?
I am compos'd of sorrow, and my veins,
Instead of blood, are fill'd with griping pains.

Curst be these eyes of mine, which have let in
The lawless tyrant of imperious Sin:
Curst be these lips of mine, which at the suit
Of my fond wife receiv'd forbidden fruit:
Curst be these ears, that entertain'd the charms
Of that inchantress, which procur'd my harms

Curst be these hands of mine, which took, and fed
My greedy Soul, and struck my Conscience dead:
And now my lips, my ears, my hands, my eyes,
Must see, hear, taste, and feel, my miseries.
Oh sad condition! Since there's no relief,
I must be subject to perpetual grief.
Here we will leave poor Adam in the state
Of woe, and thus begin to ruminate.

Are there not many in this toilsom age
That meditate themselves into a rage,
And wonder how a Serpent could express
Himself, and reason with such readiness.
Being by nature brute, nay and the worst
Of living creatures, that he should at first
Perswade and conquer, and instruct his will,
How to determine both of good and ill?
It would seem strange, if Reason were without
Her wings, and could flie above this doubt:
We may (and yet not stain the truth) declare
It was the work of Satan to ensnare
Frail Eve; although he was not nam'd at all
By Moses in the Hist'ry of the Fall,
It may not trouble us, for we must know,
The bending Serpent was the Devils bow,
By which he shot the arrows of his spite,
Which did [Oh grief to speak it!] flie too right:

And he that dares so high a Crime to act
(Though by another) needs must own the fact:
And this our tongues may never cease to tell,
The Serpent was the Instrument of Hell,
Tun'd to the Devils voice: thus we may see
His fraud, his malice, and his subtiltie.
First when he saw he could not over-turn
The great Creator, he begun to burn
With flames of envy, lab'ring to invade,
And so disturb that order God had made
In the Creation, and to change the features
Of his own Image in the best of Creatures,
That so he may by his too sooth delusion
Make man run headlong to his own confusion:
Thus having laid the platform of his work,
He then begun to agitate, and lurk
For opportunity, which was effected
As soon, nay if not sooner, than expected;
He gave the blow, and by that blow he found
The weakest vessel had the weakest sound;
But yet it strongly eccho'd to the voice
Of his desires, and made him love his choice.

Even as some bold-fac'd General, that dares
To storm a well-man'd Town; at first prepares
A potent Army, which he soon sets down
Before the Walls of the alarum'd Town;

He after views the ruine-threatning-Fort,
Which speaks defiance, and begins to sport
Their severall shots, and with a sad delight
Ingage each other in a bloody fight:
Then if the fierce Besiegers once perceive
Themselves out-strength'd, they think it fit to leave
So hot a work, and for a little space
Desist, and fall upon a weaker place,
Where finding smaller opposition, venture
With greater courage, and at last they enter
The yielding Town, and cruelly begin
To take revenge of them that are within.

Even so the grim-look'd, malice-armed Devil,
The base-resolved Generall of Evill,
Perceiving, that he could by no meanes take
The sublime Fort of Heav'n, plots how to make
A fresh attempt, upon a weaker part,
And so prepares to storme the flexive heart
Of unresisting Eve; that could not grapple
With such a Foe, but yielded for an Apple
To those most false Alarums which surrounded
Her, much obedient, and soon confounded
Her inward parts, and gave her Soul a wound,
Which cannot be by time or art made sound,
Except the grand Physitian please to slake
His swelling fury, and some pity take.

Thus are our conquer'd parents sadly left
In a deplor'd condition, and bereft
Of all their comforts; they which have enjoy'd
The life of happinesse, are now destroy'd;
And man (his wretched off-spring) must be made
Sorrowes sad heir, and Peace must not be said
T'inhabit in him. Adams actuall sin
Made ours originall; for we begin,
As soon as made, to entertain the guests
Of sin, and lodge them in our infant-brests.
Now may our weak and despicable eyes
Behold in them, our ample miseries:
Now we may glut the Air with this sad cry,
The root being dead, the branches needs must dye
For Adam's gone beyond all humane call:
Rebellion never ends without a Fall.

But stay my Muse, here let us rest a while;
Our Journey's long, and 'tis not good to toil
Too much at first, for Reason sayes 'tis best
To pause a time, and take a little rest:
Know then (kind Reader) that my Muse shall meet
Thy serious eyes within another sheet.

The end of the first Book.

THE SECOND BOOK OF GODS LOVE, AND Mans Unworthiness.

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?—

He that can break a rocky heart in twain,
And re-unite it (if he please) again;
He that can part the boiling waves, and stand
Upon the Seas, as on the dryest Land;
He whose celestiall power can make the graves
To open, and command their slumb'ring slaves
To rise; nay more, to stand; nay more, to walk;
Nay more (if more then this may be) to talk:
He that can make a Whale to entertain
A Jonah, and to spue him out again;
He whose Almighty power can unlock
The flinty bowels, of a scragged Rock,

And make her headlong-gushing streams abound
To wash the bosom of the thirsty ground;
He that can transmutate by power divine
The poorest water into richest Wine;
He that can curb rude Boreas, and asswage
The lawless passion of the Oceans rage;
He that can rain-down Manna to supply
The craving stomacks of mortality;
He that can, like an all-commanding God,
Make Almonds flourish from a sapless rod;
He that can make the Sun and Moon stand still,
Or run according to his sacred Will;
He that sav'd a Daniel from the paws
Of Lyons, and can muzzle up their jaws;
He that can make the greedy Ravens carry
Food to his Servants like a Commissary;
He that can, with an unresisted hand,
Dash fire into Ice, and counter-mand
The wanton flames, and charm them, that they dare
But burn his servants cords, and not their hair;
He that can cause ten thousand to be fed
With two small fishes, and five loaves of bread;
He that can clothe himself with fire, and name
Himself, I AM, and make a bush to flame
Without consuming; He that can convert
A Rod into a Serpent, and not hurt;

He that can make his visage shine so bright,
That not a Moses can behold the light;
He that can strike a hand with leprosie,
And cure it in the twinkling of an eye;
He that can in a moment cut and break
Tongue-tying cords, and make the dumb to speak;
He that can out of unregarded stones
Raise unto Abraham many little ones;
He that can heal the Cripple with a touch,
And free him from the thraldom of his Crouch;
He that can cure the deaf, and can expell
A thousand Devils in despite of Hell;
He that can perfect what he first begun,
Expects that man should say, Thy will be done.
Consider Man, and thou shalt finde it true,
Heav'n can doe all, but what he will not doe:
Think not, because thou art of low estate,
That he will scorn to love, and love to hate:
Remember Dives, whose unsumm'd up store
Improv'd so much, untill he prov'd as poor
As ever Job was: Job! unhappy I
To speak it, he was rich in poverty;
Heav'n made poor Job so rich, that Satans wealth
Could purchase nothing from him, but his health,
And that corporeal too; he could not boast
His bargain, for 'twas Job that purchas'd most.

Happy is he that can at last inherit
Riches obtain'd by an impov'rish'd spirit:
We'd better lick with Lazarus the crumbs,
Then gripe with Dives for Soul-damning sums.
Welth cannot bride the flames, yet scraps may feed
The hungry wretch; he that has wealth, may need
The crumbs of comfort: David did condole
Th'abundant famine of his hungry Soul:
Gods love's not mercenary, to be sold
For brain-distracting, heart-confounding gold.
Hast thou not heard (O man) the heav'nly cry
Of him that says, Ye that are poor, come buy,
Come buy of me; your pen'worth shall be such,
That for a little you shall purchase much.
Here's Love that's spun unto the smallest thred,
Tho thou want'st mony, yet thou maist have bread:
Do thou but ask, thou shalt not fail to have;
For God's more free to give, then thou to crave:
Fear not to ask of him, whose ready ear,
Before thy tongue can ask, is apt to hear.
Heav'n loves the language of a broken heart,
And he will harken, and with joy impart
His love unto thee, and his milk and wine,
Without the price of mony shall be thine.
Th'ingrated pris'ner, whose dull tongue is whet
With sharp'ned hunger, will not fear to let

His language fly to every eare that comes
Within his audience; and he alwayes sums
The totalls of his grief in hungry words,
Whilst thousands passe along, but few affords
The blessing of an Alms perhaps they'l grieve,
And seem to pity, but will not relieve
Yet will he not desist, but hourly cry,
Bread, bread, for Heav'ns sake bread, or else I dye.
Hard hearted Man, why wilt thou not relent
To hear thy brother, almost hunger-spent,
Craving thy succour? Where's thy love become?
Because th'art deaf, ah! woldst thou have him dumb?
Or dost thou think, because thy panch is fill'd,
He cannot hunger? He that first distill'd
Those mercies on thy head, expects that thou
Shouldst feed thy brother with a cheerfull brow;
Say not thou canst not give, thy treasure's light:
But let thy heart record the widowes mite,
So Heav'n will fill thy Cisterns to the brim,
And feed thy Soul, because thou hast fed him.

Should the Grandfather of true Charity
Passe by the gates, and heare thee beg and cry,
And not relieve thee; should he slight thy prayers,
And scorn to take a survey of thy tears;
Wouldst thou not grieve, and pine thy self to dust,
And almost say thy God was much unjust,

To turn away his ears from thy complaint,
And disrespect thy pray'rs, and let thee faint
For want of Food? Ah, whither wouldst thou fly
To feed thy famish'd Soul, should Heav'n deny?
But ah he cannot, for his melting Soul
Is alwayes free, and willing to condole
The sad conditions of distressed Man,
Who only strives to doe, but what he can
To contradict him; yet he'l heare our grief:
In multitudes of mercies lies relief.
When our impris'ned Souls peep through the grates
Of this corrupting Earth, our God dilates
Himself unto us, and he sends us meat
From the rich store-house of his lofty Seat;
He hears; and hearing pitties; pittying, sends;
And sending, blesses; and with blessing ends.

Even as the Sun, which every day surrounds
The sublime Globe, and pries into the bounds
Of this dark Center; lets his Beams reflect
Upon a molehill with as much respect
As on a Mountaine; for his glorious Beams
Shine alwayes with equivalent extreams.
Even so the great and powerfull three in one,
That sits upon his all-inlight'ning Throne,
Does not deny to let his mercy crown
The poorest Peasant with as much renown

As the most stateliest Emperor; though he
Invests his body with more dignitie,
Yet he's but earth, and must at last decay,
For Prince and Peasant go the self-same way;
Their earth must turn to earth, their Souls return
To him that gave them, or for ever burn;
There's no distinction, one infused breath
Made them alike, and both must live in death,
Or everlasting life; both must commence
Divines in Heav'n; ther's no preheminence,
But all equality, all must express,
With equal Joy, their equal Happiness.
Rouze up dull man, and let thy wak'ned Soul
Be vigilate; oh let thy thoughts enroul
The love of God, engrave it in thy brest,
That his resounding tongue may read thee blest.
O let thy sighs, like Pens, and let thy tears
Like Ink, transcribe the Love, th'indulgent cares
Of thy Creator, that himselfe may find
(Within th'unblotted volume of thy mind)
Himselfe recorded, so will he imbrace
Thy spotless Soul, and fill thee with his grace.
Incline thine ears, and let thy heart rejoyce
To hear the strains of his harmonious voyce:
Harken, and thou shalt hear his Prophets sing
Th'admired Mercies of the glorious King.

Thus saith the great, and ever-living One,
That rules the heav'ns, & governs earth alone,
Thus saith the Lord, that takes delight to dwel
Amongst his Saints, that formed Israel,
Created Jacob, let thy sorrows flee
Out of thy brest, I have redeemed thee:
'Twas I that made thy clouded visage shine,
And call'd thee by my Name, for thou art mine.
I will be with thee, when thy feet shall wade
Thorow the waters; I will be thy aid:
Ile make thee walk thorow rivers, and the waves
Shall prove ambitious to become thy slaves:
And when thou walkest through the raging fire,
Th'unruly flames shall not presume t'aspire
Or kindle on thy garments. I alone
The Lord thy God, and Israels holy One,
And thy dear Saviour, that was always true,
Gave Egypt, Seba, and Ethiopia too,
To ransom thee; for thou wert my delight,
And always Pretious in my gratious sight:
Honors were heap'd upon thee, and thou wert
The tender love of my affecting heart;
Therefore even I, that am well pleas'd, will give
People for thy dear sake, that thou mayst live.
Fear not, for I am with thee, and Ile stand
In thy defence, and my all-grasping hand

Shall bring thy seed from the remotest places,
And fill thee with my satisfying graces.

6. My tongue shall call unto the North, and say
Unto the South, Give, and they shall obey;
Bring from a far my sons and daughters all,
Hear my loud voyce, be active when I call.

7. I have created them, and I proclaime
They shall be call'd and honour'd by my Name.
I'le usher forth the blind, and make them see
The splendent Glories of my Majestie:
I'le cure the deaf, and make their hearts rejoyce
To hear the Ecchoes of my warbling voyce.
Thus hath our God unty'd the tongues, and broke
His Prophets lips; thus have his Prophets spoke:
And wilt thou be (O Man) so much obdure,
As not to credit him that will assure
Perpetuall happinesse? Thou canst not ask
That which he cannot give; do but unmask
Thy shamefac'd Soul, that so thou mayst discry
Jehovahs mercies with a faithfull eye:
Descant upon his promises, advise
With thine own thoughts, let Reason make thee wise;
Inspect thy self, weigh well thine own condition,
And thou shalt find thou want'st a good Physition
To cure thy maculated Soul: Alas!
Thou art like water stop'd up in a glass,

So weakly fortify'd, and fenc'd about,
That one weak knock soon lets the pris'ner out.
Vaine lump of vanity, what can this Earth
Afford thy thoughts more then a short-liv'd mirth?
A mirth that fills thee with deluding toyes,
And like a Tyrant afterwards destroyes.
Dot'st thou on Earth? For what? Because her pleasure
Can guild thy wanton eye? Because her treasure
Can cram thy bags? Because her Sirens song
Can ravish thee? Because her power can throng
Thy Soul with luxury? Because her charms
Can court thee with delight? Because her arms
Can pleasingly imbrace thee, and impost
Thy heart with gold, and lull thee, when th'ast lost
Thy self in sleep? Is this the little All
That this great world can boast of? Must we call
These things our pleasures? No, they'l prove our cares,
Our golden fetters, and our silken snares
These are the Joyes we love, these are the things
That make us fly with our Icarian wings
Up to Ambitions Court, and there presume
To gaze so long, untill our waxen plume
Dissolve with heat, and like presumptuous slaves
Tumble our selves into the raging waves
Of speedy Ruine; Ruine's all that we
Must hope t'obtaine from Earths base treasurie.

Let's scorn her wealth, and say, O Earth, thou art
A painted Mistresse with a rotten heart:
Let's hate to love, that we may love to hate
Th'unconstant glory of her fickle state.

Even as the subtle Crocodile prepares
Her flatt'ring heart, and eye-commanding tears,
To wooe her prey to come within the power
Of her command, that so she may devour
With more facility, and make her jaws
To execute by her tyrannike Laws:
Even so this World, whose Crocodile-like eyes
Are always flowing, wanting no supplies
Of gliding tears to wash the rugged faces
Of her designs with falsifying graces,
That so she may by her too smooth delusion
Make Man the Author of his own confusion.
Frail flesh and blood, how canst thou take delight
To love this world, that cannot give a mite
Of comfort to thee, but will still intrap,
And daily lull thee in her lustful lap.
Shee'l rock thy soul to ruine, and shee'l spawn
Basenesse into thee; shee'l deceive, and fawn
Upon thy heart, and with her guilded baits
Shee'l hook thy Soul unto the worst of fates:
There's nothing in her that deserves the name
Of Constancie; her glory is her shame.

Smile at her tears, for every drop she vents
Harbors ten thousand thousand discontents:
Believe her not; but when she speaks the best,
Believe the worst; and if she promise rest,
Assure thy selfe of trouble; if she chance
To promise treasure, let thy thoughts advance
Above her promises, contemn her dross,
For what thou gain'st from her will be thy loss:
Let not her wealthy Do natives perswade
Thy heart t'accept; when once thou art betray'd
There's no resistance: They that well advise
Before they act, deserve the name of wise:
But they that study in her frantick Schools
May prove her wise men; but Heav'ns out-cast fools.
Aske her the way to Bliss: try if her skill
Can give directions, aske her if she will
Fill thee with blest Eternity, conjure
Her helpless aid, see if she can assure
A safety to thee, ask her if she can
Prescribe a cure for a despairing Man;
Tell her thy Soul is sick, thou canst not live
A minute longer; see if she can give
A Cordial to thee, see if she can heal
A broken heart; see if she can reveal
Celestial Joys unto thee, and impart
A heav'nly comfort to thy grieved heart:

If so, cheer up, and prosecute thy mirth,
And say there is no other Heaven but Earth,
Do thus (fond Man) and thou shalt quickly see
A baffl'd World, that cannot answer thee,
But must be silent, for she cannot plead
For her own self; she knowes she cannot lead
The way to Heav'n, she's but a bad director,
A base Believer, and a worse Protector.

Thus shalt thou make her envy swell and burst,
And, like the Basilisk, discover'd first,
She needs must dye; but if she should discover
Thee first, farewell, th'art murder'd by thy lover.
Then shalt thou heare the Soul-amazing tone
Of him that sits on his immortall Throne,
Pronounce against thee at the dreadfull day
Of thy accounts; thus shalt thou hear him say:

Depart, ye cursed off-springs of a father
As curst as you, avoyd my sight, go gather
The fruits of your deserts; you have forgot
The God that made you, and I know ye not:
See if the world, within whose folding arms
You alwayes slept, can quit thee from the harms
That must ensue; see if her flatt'ring power
Can shelter thee, from the o're-flowing shower
Of my fast-dropping rage; see if her brest
Can entertain thee with eternall rest.

Begone, begone, my fury hates to see
Such Miscreants; had you remember'd me,
I now had known you; had you made me eat
When I was forc'd to importune for meat,
I now would blesse you with celestiall dyet,
And crown your Souls with everlasting quiet:
Had you but quench'd my raging thirst, or gave
A single drop, that very drop should save
Your death-adjudged Souls, and you should sup
Abundant comforts from my streaming cup:
Had you (sad sons of vengeance) but supply'd
My nakednesse with garments, when I cry'd
And call'd upon your charity to send
Reliefe unto me, I had been your friend;
Or had your (more then marble) hearts reliev'd
M'impris'ned body, now ye had not griev'd:
Had you, you world-affined Souls, addrest
Your selves unto me when I was opprest
With ling'ring sicknesse, then I would have fed
Your Souls (which now are starv'd) with heav'nly bread;
But since you have not done it unto those
Which I esteem'd, ye'ave prov'd your selves my foes:
Therefore begone, let darknesse be your lot,
Learn to remember that ye have forgot
My mercies; go, and let my judgments dwell
Within your guilty hearts; let black-mouth'd Hell

Plague you with torments, let him always lash
Your hearts with flames, until ye howl, and gnash
Your teeth together; Go, depart my sight,
And taste the fruits of everlasting night.

But as for you, whose better deeds have found
Acceptance in my heart, ye shall be crown'd
With unremoved happinesse, because
Ye have obsequiously perform'd my Laws;
You fed my craving stomach, and you cloath'd
My naked body, and you have not loath'd
To visit me; and when I was a stranger,
Ye took me in, and guarded me from danger:
Go then my Lambs, and let your Oratory
Proclaim the greatnesse of your Fathers glory:
Go revel in my Courts; no discontent
Shall breed a faction in my Parliament:
Ile passe an Act of Peace, and it shall be
Sign'd by the hand of my Eternitie.
My tongue shall style you blessed, and my voyce
Shall raise your Souls, and teach you to rejoyce:
Your unexcised pleasures shall abound
To infinite; your ravisht hearts shall sound
The depth of my delights; all things shall move
Within the sphere of uncontrouled Love:
Be well assur'd, your pleasures shall be great;
Then fly from Judgement to my Mercy-seat,

And there rejoyce with a triumphant mirth;
My Love shall live with them that hated Earth.

Obdurate Man, here, here thou mayst descry
Judgment and Mercy, one to terrifie,
The other to perswade; and yet wilt thou
Prove adamantine, and refuse to bow
To thy Redeemer? Canst thou ruminate
Upon his Love, and yet wilt not delate
Thy Soul unto him? Is thy brazen heart
Impenetrable? Will no flaming dart
Of true affection enter? Hast thou vow'd
To stop thy ears? Shall Mercy call aloud,
And thou not hear? Shall thund'ring Judgments rattle
About thy ears, and yet wilt thou imbattle
Against the Lord of Hosts? Wilt thou invoke
Perpetual Vengeance to intail a stroke
Upon thy stubborn heart? What, dost thou think
Hell's voyd of flames, or that thy God will wink
At thine enormities? Go, rally all
Thy thoughts together, and discreetly fall
Into a serious study.—

—Let thy mind
Be absolute, and really enclin'd
To meditation; contradict the rage
Of thine own passion: labour to asswage

The fire of lust, that so thou mayst behold,
With more serenity, how manifold
His mercies are, that every day prevents
The sad incursions of deprav'd events.
Think but in what a most defam'd condition
Thy Soul was in, before the grand Physitian
Of Heav'n and Earth spontaniously sent down
A balm from his own Gilliard to Crown
The sons of grief: Think what he did endure,
Before his wounds had perfected thy cure.
Remember how undauntedly he stood,
And sweat himself into a Crimson flood
To ransom thee; remember how his woes
Were asperated by his raging foes;
Remember how his sacred temples wore
A spiny Crown; remember how it tore
His sublime Front; remember how they broach'd
His brest with Spears, and shamefully reproach'd
His spotless fame; remember how they nail'd
His spreading hands, remember how they scal'd
His Ivory walls, remember how they spawl'd
Upon his face, remember how they bawl'd
And banded at his Agony, whilst he
Prov'd patient Martyr to thair tyranny;
Remember when he came unto the brink
Of death, they gave him vinegar to drink:

Nay more (because they vow'd to empty all
Their poys'ned malice out) they gave him Gall.
Oh bitter deed! Oh most abhorred Crimes!
Too nearly paralleld in these our times.)
Thus having put a period to their plots,
They thought it good to cast their hellish lots
For his (I dare not say mean) clothes; I know
They were our Saviours, to whose worth we owe
Perpetuall thanks; 'twas his well finished breath
Redeem'd our Souls from everlasting death.

Here's Love (O man) that does as far transcend
Thy thoughts as thy deserts, that Heav'n should send
His Son and Heir to be incarnated,
And suffer death for thee, that wert as dead
As sin could make thee; 'twas for thy offence
He dy'd; Ah, how, how canst thou recompence
Such high-bred Favours! Favours unexpected
Deserve to be imbrac'd, and not neglected.
Do not (rash Soul) like Cleopatra nurse
Embosom'd vipers; blessings prove a curse,
If once abus'd; Ingratitude cuts off
Th'intail of Love; it is a shame to scoff
At Benefactors; after thou art fed,
Wilt thou contemn the hand that gave thee bread?
Wouldst thou not love that friend that should bestow
A superanuated crust, and shew

Respect unto thee, when the ebbing tyde
Of Fortune runs so low, that thou mayst ride
Upon the sands of Poverty? Fond man,
Strive to be gratefull, study how to scan
The mercies of thy God; remember how
He feeds thy Soul with Manna; learn to bow
Th'unruly thoughts; (with admiration) think
How often, and how much imbitter'd drink
Thy Saviour drank; with what a doleful cry
He beg'd of God to let that cup pass by;
But knowing that his pleasure must be done,
He prov'd himselfe his most obedient Son.
And wilt thou not (coy wretch) drink one poor sup
Of bitter drink for him, that drank a cup
To sweeten thine? thou need'st not fear nor scorn
To tast, because Heav'ns sacred Unicorn
Hath purg'd the waters, and they must be sweet
Except they're reimpoys'ned by thy feet:
If so, what wilt thou do? where wilt thou find
An Antidote for an invenom'd mind?
It is reported, if the Spider chance
To meet the obvious Toad, they'l both advance
Their inward force, and mutually proclaim
An open War; brave combatants of Fame!
And having summon'd their imbowel'd might,
March boldly on, and both incens'd, they fight:

The Toad being heavy loaded, cannot go,
Or wheel about, like his encountring foe,
But keeps his ground, and makes a small resistance:
The Spider scorning to be kept at distance,
Falls in upon him, and with nimble rage
Assaults his foe, who now begins t'asswage
His former fury, and would fain retreat
From his small foe, whose strength is grown too great
For opposition; being thus distress'd
He crawls away, and with a crop-sick brest
Seeks for relief, and by and by discrys
A Planton leafe, within whose veins there lies
A secret Antidote, which did at length
Expel his poyson, and renew his strength:
Having disgorg'd himselfe, he soon returns
Into the camp, where for a time he burns
To be in action, and at last he sees
The crafty Spider creeping by degrees
To seize upon him, then his courage fails,
He knows not what to do, his foe assails
With all his might, constraning him to yield
The conquest, and with shame to quit the field:
Then he begins to seek, and hunt about,
To find the soveraign healing Planton out,
Which had before reliev'd him, and supply'd
His wants; but that being gone, he burst, and dy'd

Even so, if Hells black Spider chance to crawl
From his infernal Web into the Hall
Of this all-dusty World, he soon prepares
Himselfe to fight, and suddenly declares,
That he, the grim-look'd General of Hel,
Dares to encounter any Souls that dwell
Within the limits of the spacious Earth,
And in a momemt qualifie their mirth:
Thus Satan boasts, and if he chance to meet
A single Soul, he'l thus begin to greet.