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?—

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.