Divine Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Some of these Papers coming to your view,
Receiv'd incouragement from you,
You first commended them unto the Press,
And therefore I could do no less
Then give them these commands,
First that they kiss your hands,
Then at your Honours feet let them full low,
Confessing they their being to you owe.

Nor is this all, but let them further-say,
I owe you more, and more would pay
If I knew how; yet 'tis my hopes you will
Take this in part of the whole bill.
As patient Creditors use
Those Debtors, who their dues
Acknowledge, and by fair intreaty win
A longer day to pay their money in.

To His Ever honoured Mother, The University OF OXFORD

Let Poets pray the Gods their wit t' inspire,
My holy Flames are kindled by thy fire,
My Muse drinks at thy Fountain, thou alone
To me Parnassus art and Helicon;
And though that some would dam up all thy streams,
And with their new lights put out thy old beams,
Yet I shall pray, and hope Heaven will me hear,
That thy light still may shine, thy Spring run clear.
I tender thee this slender offering,
Wishing that I a better had to bring;
But what it wants either of wit or Art,
To make it up, I here present my Heart.

To his Learned, Pious Friend, the Authour.

Most do but sin in Verse, and pale sheets dress
Fitter to cloath their pennance, then the Press,
And all their vain, though most advanced Rimes,
Are but soft mischiefs, and ingenuous Crimes.
For to write well, where it is ill to write,
Is to transgress a Poem, nor indite.

Loose fancies frenzies are, and our fond layes
Require more wreaths of Hellebore then Bayes.
But from thy guided choice thy Poem is,
Not thy distemper, but thy Artifice.
Thy numbers are thy Zeal, yet not thy fit
This is not to impart, but hallow wit.

Martin Lleuellin M. D.

On the Author.

The Muses met to find a way (though late)
Their servants trespasses to expiate,
And make amends for the wit vainly spent,
On many an ungracious Argument.
Urania said, I have a man of worth,
Whose Verse is holy, he shall put it forth.

C. B.

To the READER of my Dearly Loved, because truly Pious Friend, Mr, T. W.'s Religious Poems.

Draw neer, but draw devoutly, for you may
Better keep hence, then come and be away;
And yet approach still, though thy soul brings none,
That it may carry hence Devotion.
Expect, if thou be such, some loose sin here,
That so thou maist be caught at unaware:
So Heathens, when to Christian slaughter they
With Pagan hate flock'd only to annoy,
Did return Converts, and there learnt to do
What they saw done, hope, confess, and dye too.
He that came Snake, and Serpent, sting and hiss,
Did return man; for there he left all these;
He that did come, and but in part a man,
Went back a whole, and intire Christian.
He that was got so far would stil go on,
And by Gods faith reach up to Gods own Son;

Serpent too much, and man too little; I
And Christian too; he would be saint and dye.

Bathe in these Sion streams, that ev'n thou here
May'st be a Star, a Sun i'th' upper Sphere;
This is the way to both, way and end, this
Wil infuse Piety, and that assure blisse;
This wil that Serpent of thy heart unskin,
And to thy false brow add a Man within,
Make thee love God and man; unlike him, who
'Cause he can't hit God, shoots his image through;
This wil first teach thee to escape his hel,
And then convey thee whence that serpent fell.
Til thus thou lov'st and loath'st, it is not safe
To tel thee all the holinesse of each leafe.
For what to cock is Jewel, Pearl to sow?
His chaffe, her husks, are Pearl and Jewel too.

Here is no chaffe nor husks; the Prodigal
May hither come, and find it good corn all;
Come hither they, who the vain Poets prize
For their unsens'd verbal Hyperbolies;
Can they expresse beyond a heaven? Here
You have that only, and what came from there;
Make they a God, and then by him rehearse?
The God that made this man, fils all his verse.
Does a faire Virgin teach them to indite?
Faith is his Lady, by whose beams to write;
Her and her God he loves, more then all they
Can by their false Gods to their false loves say.

Expect no fond invokings; We confesse,
There is no Genius besides holinesse.
Were this left out, had he another theame,
Child's straw, and bubbles, would be all the gemme;
How many, and none, compose and not compose!
For without this, 'tis neither Rime nor Prose;
Read this mans storms, and that mans fairer weather,
Compare them both to none, not each to either;

What get you? but that you can only tell
This line's like that, a decasyllable?
That he was Knight? he gentleman? Their fire
Tun'd not to Davids; but Apollo's lyre;
And that because there is in neither even
What was in Johnson's self, a close to heaven.

How many shillings have I thrown away,
To read in Monteigne his own Prose-essay,
Mixt with some lay, because but prophane song,
Unspirited with firm religion?
When I read Finis, this is all I know,
Both are the same piece, Author and work too;
His book's his self; when That my hand does carry,
I graspe both Cæsar and his Commentary.
Why did I give so much, that I might look
On a French picture, not worth a French Cooke?
One Quelque Chose; and you have him; I could eat
The Author now, and sel him to buy meat.

Cartwright is Wit throughout, but I read o're
More then his four playes, his fast pious four;
And then his several Gratitudes unto
Him, whose head taught him, and purse fed him too;
Who gave him to buy books, and gave him skil
In each of them, to chuse out Well from Ill;
The Learned, Pious, Constant Duppa; he
Who was, and is stil Reverend in those three;
Whom these three, voice, and pen, and heart cannot
(No not Cartwrights own) enough celebrate;
In these he kept Christs law, lov'd God, and then
His next act was to pay his debt to men.
He did it here; for this one to him wou'd
Be Universal, ev'ry neighbourhood.
Though he out-sabers, out-words, out-wits all,
Grave Virgil, Horace nice, Salt Martial,
Yet more then in's (though unprofane) verse, wou'd
Wrench my soul in his Diviner stood;

Those Sermons in which he did wind about
Our passions more then Cicero could do't,
In which he did out-sense deep Plutarchs skil,
And taught so wel, almost all else taught ill,
Unlesse when's Father Duppa 'gan to preach,
Who us to live, and taught him too to teach.
Oh, for that Text where he forbad to ly,
And prest home truth, in unbound Poetry?
Where David like, he did instil and charme
Us to be honest, though to our own harm,
Charg'd truths upon us, such as do shine here
In this smal volume, scorn'd and damn'd elsewhere;
O for his Passion-text, that we might buy
Th' inestimable price at Sixpence fee;
That we that winepresse which at Edom was,
And Christs Church trod, might taste from a new press!

And here we hav't i'th' dialogue between
Christ Angels, and Apostles, of slain sin;
Jesus is up again, he did not die,
He but lay downe, that death it self might lie.
I, who this book throughout love, Adore here
As (though all Horace was to Scaliger
Precious and rich, yet above all the rest
He did affect his Lydia dialogue best,)
He who t'ave made That, would give Empire, though
A world he offer here, he bids too low;
For as the whole is sacred, and each line,
Though 'tis not God, yet it is each Divine;
So here, 'tis not Apostle only who
Does speak, and Angel, but 'tis Jesus too;
What would that Learnings lover now impart
To speak with an Apostle heart to heart?
(For they did not converse, as some of late,
With face of love, but with a brest of hate)
What would his inquisition give to hear
An Angel vocally round him i'th' eare!

What would he? nay, what would he not bestow?
A world! almost another Jesus too,
To hear his own Christ speake, who since sixteen
Last hundred yeers, was neither heard nor seen.

This Copy is the blessed Jesus; and
The rest do all as one John Baptist stand
Round about this; before, behind, each where,
To make that way plain for the Lord t'appear.
This Copy is the Word, and the rest are
The Voice and Eccho of this Character;
This is the supreme heaven, without this
Is heaven too, and what's in heaven, Blisse.

But O, when he does joyes of heaven tel
Chearfull, and without dread paines of hel;
(Whither the Saviour Christ does convey some,
And whither the Judge Christ does others doome)
How does he with mixt artifice contrive,
Either for fear or love, that all should live!
I dare not name all, lest I emulate
The bulk of his Town, with my swelling Gate.

APOSTROPHE To the AUTHOR.

You Sir, who study, and sport too, this way
Whose spare hours heaven, and whose serious day;
Whose two week Sermons are to others aim;
Whose whole week-life is to that your own claim.
Who preach both waies, b'Example and by Rule,
Whose life's a Sermon, and whose house a School;
Who your own self do, without hire, supply
With breath and patterne, this twin Curacy;
Who make each day the Lords, whilst there are some
Do grudge him one in seven; who make your home
To be his pious house, whilst some there are
Who scarce allow him his own house for prayer;
You who do read, and meditate, and live
Scripture, and thereby midst of world's frowns thrive;
You know, they who on Gospels first word look,
Learn from that first word, this is all the book.
They who proceed and search on, find that this
Is only Scripture, all else writ amiss;
They who wade further yet, know there's not one
Word besides this, This is the Word alone.
And yet though nothing else is Book, but what
God himself made, the Man not that he wrote;
Though nothing else be Scripture, but pretence,
Because if not the same with this, not sense;

Though nothing else be Word, 'cause Parrots may,
Without this, talk to as good ends as we;
Yet as those birds are said to come more near
To what we speak, then other Foules o'th' air,
Because they imitate our Cadencies,
So we do more, speak when w'approach to thee.
Blest be the charity then, of your wise choice,
Not to vex us with an unmatter'd Noise;
Since though in hundred sheets of paper, he
Has silent been, who does not edifie.
Since without this, though Stentor he out roare,
He hath said lesse then th' mad Bul, or wild Boar;
Since without this, each other book's a crime;
It robs my purse, and what's more deer, my time:
Blest be your guidance too, that t'all were giv'n,
Both to discourse, and write, and Print for heav'n;
He that writes next, this is his praise or curse
He makes the Reader if not better, worse.
But friend, you often aske why 'tis that I
Preach to th' next ear, and not to th' distant eye?
Why 'tis that I wh'ave taskt my self a scheame
In learnings own behalf, forbear that Theame,
Pray ask no more; how can you with my heir
Were come to th' birth, when there's no midwife near?
Copy't once more, and tel the brave Lord N
Be he Mecænas, and I'wil write Then.

On the Divine Poems of his friend the Author.

Some say a Poet's born, not made; but I
Say he's twice born that made this Poesie.
Nature imparted little to his wit,
'Twas grace which had the greatest band in it;
His pen came from the wing of th'holy Dove,
Dropping no gall, but innocence and Love;
No scurrilous obscenity to make
It vendible, and with the Rabble take;
No tenter stretch't conceits, no puff-paste strains,
Which serve not to instruct but wrack mens brains,
No such as their invention draw from wine
And reele into a Verse; but all Divine,
Clear as the beams are of th'inlightned day,
Smooth as the Galaxy or milkie way,
Pure as Ezekiels waters, which did glide
Forth of the Sanctuary on each side;
Made not to please the Pallat of the foule
And carnal man, but to revive the soul
That humbled is at sight and sense of sin,
To cheere his spirits, comfort him within;
To scare bold sinners from their wicked course,
And win them to a penitent remorse;
That they who take these Poems up as men,
May lay them down as Saints made by his pen.
Thus Ambrose catch't an Austin, by his quaint
Divinity, the Manichee turn'd Saint.

E. P.

Gen. 3. 8.

And Adam and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God, amongst the Trees of the Garden.

What fancies sin in our first Parents wrought,
That they a hiding place so quickly sought
From Gods all-seeing Eye? As if that he
Who form'd the eye, were blind and could not see
Thorow the thickest trees or darkest shade,
Which in that Garden he himself had made.
Such simple fools are their posterity,
Who seek out places of obscurity
To sin unseene, and mask themselves all over,
That God should not their wicked deeds discover;
As though that they from him themselves could shrowd,
Like Juno from Ixion in a cloud.
Or like the Wood-cock hide their heads, and then,
'Cause they see none, think none sees them agen.
Be not deceiv'd, a double folly lies,
In sinning first, then hood winking Gods eyes.
All's one to him, the darknesse and the light,
The night as clear as day is in his sight.
Think not by putting of a candle out,
Or drawing of a curtain round about
Thy bed, or by fast barring of thy door,
To shut God out, or make him see no more;
Thou canst not be invisible to him,
Who did behold thy substance, every limme

And member of thy body, ere that they
Were perfect, and received day by day,
Their form and fashion; the womb to him was
Cleare as the Chrystal, or the purest glasse.
Search the worlds closest corners o're and o're,
'Mongst all thou canst not finde a place that's more
Invisible and secret; then reveal
Thy sin to God, which thou canst not conceale;
And what thou canst not hide from him, confesse:
So seeing, hee'le not see thy wickednesse;
But with the whitest Robe wil cover thee,
That without fear or shame thou may'st him see.

Exod. 3. 2.

And the Angel of the Lord appeared unto him in a flame of fire, out of the midst of a bush; and he looked, and behold the bush burned with fire, and was not consumed.

Loe, here a sight
Presented to the eye,
A Bush on fire flaming bright,
Yet not consum'd, a wondrous mysterie.

The Bush the Church,
Affliction is the fire,
Which serves not to destroy, but search
And try her gold, raising the value higher.

It gathers dust,
And sullied is with ease,
Wherefore to rub off all the rust,
To cast it in this fire God doth please.

Whence it comes forth,
Far brighter then before,

And is advanced much in worth,
One pound being equal now unto a score.

This bush that flame
Could never long withstand,
Unlesse the Lord were in the same;
Tis he that doth uphold it with his hand.

Whiles he is there,
And doth his light dispense,
The heat we need not greatly fear,
How ere it may seeme grievous to our sense.

For though we be
I th' fiery furnace cast,
Our faith the Son of God may see,
Preserving of our very haires from waste,

Much more he will
By his almighty arme
Defend the souls of his Saints still,
That by this fire they shall sustaine no harme.

For this fire shall,
Like that which snatch'd away
The Prophet once, transport them all
From this worlds sorrows to a world of joy.

Exod. 32. 10.

Now therefore let me alone, that my wrath may wax hot against them, and that I may consume them.

What a commanding power
There is in prayer? Which can tower

As high as heaven, and tie the hands
Of God himself in bands,
That he unable is to loose the raines
To Justice, til released from these chains?

Samson could break his cords
As tow, and yet the Lord of Lords
Who gave that strength to Samson can
Not break the cords of man;
Man makes his maker pray, Let me alone,
That on this people my wrath may be shown.

Since then such vertue lies
In prayer, as will exorcise
The almighty, and fast bind his arms
In spiritual magick charms;
O for another Moses now to pray
That the like benefit wee might enjoy.

But Gods wrath long hath been
Against us hot, a signe our sinne
Cries lowder then our prayers to God,
Which makes him use his rod.
VVhen once our prayers grow more fervent, then
We may expect they'l bind Gods hands again.

Numb. 20. 11.

Moses lift up his hand, and with his rod smote the rock twice, and the water came out abundantly, and the congregation drank.

What wonders this, that there should spring
Streams from a rock to quench a peoples thirst!
VVhat man alive did e're see such a thing,
That waters out of stone should burst?

Yet rather then Israel with drowth should die,
God by a miracle wil them supply.

What wonders this, that from Christs side,
Water and blood should run to cleanse our sin!
This is that fountain which was opened wide
To purge all our uncleannesse in,
But this the greater wonder is by farre,
As substances beyond the shadowes are.

Christ is that spiritual rock from whence
Two Sacraments derived are to us,
Being the objects of our faith and sense,
Both receive comfort from them thus,
Rather then we should faint our Rock turns Vine,
And stayes our thirst with water and with wine.

But heres another Rock, my heart
Harder then Adamant, yet by and by,
If by a greater Moses struck, 'twil part,
And stream forth tears abundantly.
Strike then this Rock my God, double the blow,
That for my sins, my eyes with tears may flow.

My sins that pierc'd thy hands, thy feet,
Thy head, thy heart, and every part of thee,
And on the cross made life and death to meet,
Death to thy self, and life to mee,
Thy every fall does save; O happy strife,
That struck God dead, but raised man to life.

Deut. 29. 29.

Secret things belong unto the Lord our God, but those things which are revealed belong unto us, and our children for ever, that we may doe all the words of this Law.

This was good doctrine once, but now
We not contented are to know
What God thinks good for to reveale,
Unlesse we with Prometheus steale
Some fire from heaven, or commit
A rape on Pallas Divine Wit,
Or pick Joves lock, and secrets get
Out of his closest Cabinet.
We with the Bethshemites dare pry
Into Gods Ark, and cast an eye
Within the Vaile, although that wee
Or blinde, or dead strait stricken be;
Such boldnesse wel deserves to have
No eyes, or else a suddaine grave.
He that would know more then is fit,
Forfeits his life as wel as wit.
And while he seeks what God hath hidden,
He eats againe the fruit forbidden;
So striving to be overwise,
Is justly banisht Paradise.
But if we would know safely more,
Let's practise what we knew before;
Not search his secret wil into,
But his revealed let us doe;
'Tis that concerns us most: the way
To understand is to obey.

1 Sam. 17. 37.

David said, moreover, The Lord that delivered me out of the paw of the Lion, and out of the paw of the Bear, he wil deliver me out of the hand of this Philistin.

Why should I doubt Gods providence,
Or fear hee'le not protect me in my wayes?
Since he his goodnesse stil to me displayes,
And proves it by experience.
One day another certifies and saith,
Each several Mercy doth confirm my faith.

His former favours earnests are
Of future; he that sav'd mee from the Bear
Would not permit the Lyon me to teare.
And he that of me took such care,
As from the Lyons paw to set me free,
Will from this Philistine deliver me.

Lord, from a fiercer Lyon thou
Hast saved me by thine almighty power,
I mean that Lyon which sought to devour
My soul and body. Shall I now
Suspect that thou who spar'dst me from the divel,
Wilt let me perish by a lesser evil?

I am resolv'd to fear no more
What man can do, though he Golia be,
Much less a Bear or Lyon, though I see
Him ne're so much against me roare;
I have so oft been rescued by thine arm,
That I believe nothing shall do me harme.

Job 29. 14.

I put on Righteousnesse, and it clothed me.

'Twas sin brought shame into the world, til then
There was no nakednesse 'mongst men;
And till they put on Righteousnesse, they wil
Though clad in Gold be naked stil;
They may their clothes change every day, yet find,
That clothes they want, unless they change their mind.

The newnesse of the fashon's not enough,
Nor yet the richnesse of the stuff,
To cover the souls nakednesse within,
Whiles tis deform'd with deadly sin.
The gallant without grace for all his brags,
Is worse attir'd then truth that goes in rags.

What matter is't if that his body be
Adorn'd with all the bravery
His wealth can compasse, or his wit invent:
For all this costly ornament,
If he be destitute of Righteousnesse
To clothe his soul, hee's naked ne're the lesse.

God looks into my inside, and if there
He see that I do vertue weare,
And that the habits of my mind are white
As Innocence, and clear as Light;
Then he invites me as a proper guest,
Being thus apparrel'd to his marriage feast.

Now Lord, since mine own righteousnesse wil be
Too short a robe to cover me;
(For who alas, with so great store is clad,
But he to borrow may be glad?)

Do thou some of thine owne on me bestow,
That's long enough for both of us I know.

Psalm. 4. 3.

But know, the Lord hath set apart him that is godly for himself.

Behold an holy Separatist,
Whose sanctity doth not consist
In setting of himself apart,
Both from the world, and his own heart
With a keep-back, as if that none
Must neer him come, but stands alone,
Like the disdainful Pharisee
That thinks no man so good as he.
No, he himself doth most despise,
And humble is in his own eyes,
So ful of meeknesse and so mild,
As is the newly weaned child;
His faith though firm is lowly built,
Judging his own, not others guilt;
This humble minded man God deems,
So highly of, so well esteems,
That he divide; him from the rest,
And in him impropriates for the best,
To his own special use him takes,
And his select companion makes.
The godly man most humble is,
There is no godly man but this.
Let me cast down my self among
The ordinary common throng;
And with Paul make it my beliefe,
That I of sinners am the chief.
In lowlinesse of mind let me
Think that all others better be,
So shal I with the Publican
Be the more truly Christian,

And God to his immediate
Attendance will me separate;
Thus the most high wil not disdain
To make the lowest one of's traine,
And he that doth himselfe abase,
Shal be prefer'd to highest place,

Psal. 8. 4.

What is man that thou art mindful of him, or the Son of man that thou visitest him?

Lord, what is man that thou
So mindful art of him? Or what's the Son
Of man, that thou the highest heaven didst bow
And to his aide didst runne?
He is not worthy of the least
Of all thy mercies at the best.

Man's but a piece of clay
That's animated by thy heavenly breath,
And when that breath thou tak'st away,
Hee's clay again by death.
He is not worthy of the least
Of all thy mercies, at the best.

Baser then clay is he
For sin hath made him like the Beasts that perish,
Though next the Angels he was in degree:
Yet this beast thou dost cherish.
Hee is not worthy of the least.
Of all thy mercies, hee's a beast.

Worse then a beast is Man,
Who after thine own Image made at first
Became the divels sonne by sin. And can
A thing be more accurst?

Yet thou thy greatest mercy hast
On this accursed creature cast.

Thou didst thy self abase,
And put off all thy robes of Majesty,
Taking his nature to give him thy grace,
To save his life didst dye.
He is not worthy of the least
Of all thy mercies, one's a feast.

Lo man is made now even
With the blest Angels, yea superiour farre,
Since Christ sat down at Gods right hand in heaven,
And God and man one are.
Thus all thy mercies man inherits,
Though not the least of them he merits.

Psalm 37. 16.

A little that a righteous man hath, is better then great riches of the ungodly.

The wicked rips Earth's bowels up to find
Treasures to fil his mind;
Layes heaps on heaps, and riches gets great store;
For all that he is poore,
Because he carries that about him which
Forbids him to be rich;
A greedy mind that ne're can be content,
With that which God hath sent.
But by ungodly waies graspeth more gold
Then's hand or house wil hold.
And what he thus hath got with care and pain
He fears to lose again;
His conscience on the wrack is all the while,
It wil not let him smile.

Or merry be, since many a bitter curse
Helps to fil up his purse.
And what by fraud or force he compasseth
Shal vanish with his breath.
Or if unto his heire his wealth descends,
He lavishly it spends;
Consuming that in few yeers which was not
In lesse then an age got.
Thus goods ill gather'd many times we see
The owners ruine be.
But the condition of the godly's such,
In little he hath much.
And though that his possessions be but smal,
Yet his content is all.
He is as rich as Crassus, though but poor
'Cause he desires no more.
If to his mind his state he cannot fit,
He frames his mind to it;
And dines as wel upon a piece of bread,
As if on dainties fed.
As merry when he water drinks his fill,
As those that wine do swil;
As warm in poore John Baptists Camels hair
As those that scarlet wear;
His conscience clear from sin in peace doth rest
And that's his daily feast.
Thus he being rich i'th' midst of povertie,
Nor fears nor longs to die.

Psalm 38. 4.

My iniquities are gone over my head, as an heavy burden, they are too heavy for me.

No leprosie can be compar'd to sinne,
It doth so spread
Without, within.
'Tis at my heart, and 'tis gone ore my head,

No part is free from top to toe,
'Tis here, 'tis there, above, below.

Nor doth it only spread through every part,
'Tis heavy too
And on my heart,
Like lead it lyes, so that I cannot do
The good I would, the weight's so great
That under it I sink, I sweat.

Some fools indeed, whose hearts are hard as flint,
And neck's as steel
Take pleasure in't,
And run away with't, yet no burden feel,
But sport make of it every day,
And with it as a feather play.

VVhiles they make light thereof, O let me fear
And it avoid,
As if it were
The greatest plague by which man is destroyed,
The heaviest burthen, that will crack
My heart strings, and even break my back.

And since I feel it such a ponderous thing,
A way I find
That ease will bring,
And from this plague, this burthen free my mind:
Upon thy back Lord, let it fall,
That's strong enough to bear it all.

Psal. 56. 8.

Put thou my tears into thy bottle.

To value tears I now begin,
Since thou Lord dost provide,
A bottle for to put them in
That none should fall beside;
One drop will raise a sinner from a swound;
What pity 'tis to spill them on the ground?

I spill them when I spend them on
Vain trifles. Worldly losses,
They are not worthy of a groan,
Much less a tear. Such crosses
I rather should rejoice in, since they prove
The tokens of my heavenly Fathers love.

When from the Limbeck of mine eyes
My tears for sin distil,
That Aqua vitæ thou dost prize,
And with't thy bottle fill.
O let my tears for my sins only fall,
That so thy bottle may preserve them all.

Then of them, Lord, a Cordial make,
Against sins poisonous sting,
Which when my heart with grief doth ake
May comfort to it bring.
Last a Collyrium make of them, which may
Take all the soreness of mine eyes away.

Psalm 73. 35.

Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire besides thee.

Have I not many things in heaven and earth
Besides thee, that are worth
The having and desiring? Have I not
Some friends, some riches got,
Some honors too, and may increase my store
Of all these three yet more?
Excuse me then (my God) if that I pray,
And covet somewhat else for to enjoy.

Besides these earthly there are things in heaven
Which for my use are given;
The Sun, and Moon and Stars, which do dispense
Their light, heat, influence;
Angels and Saints to whom in my distress
May I not make addresse?
Excuse me then (my God) if I repair
To these sometimes as objects of my praier.

Yet when I think a little better on
these things, I find there's none
That can compared be to thee; for friends,
They are for private ends,
And do me courtesies, because I do
Courtesies for them too:
But thou a faithful friend wast unto me
When by my sins I was thine enemy.

For Riches, they are subject to decay,
And quickly fade away.

Honours are bubbles, which the breath of men
Browes in and out agen.
Nor those, nor these any true vertue have,
Body or soul to save:
But thou my Riches and my honours art,
That savest both, and dost from neither part.

The Sun, Moon, Stars are goodly creatures, yet
As they rise, so they set;
The Saints triumphant happy Creatures are,
But know not how I fare.
The Angels glorious, yet but finite, seeing
They have from thee their being;
Thou art my Sun which only I adore,
Who once didst rise from death to set no more.

Thou art all Saints in one, they have from thee
Alone their sanctity;
Thou art the Angel of the Covenant,
And wilt not let me want;
Thou mad'st me with thy word, and with thy blood
Redeem'dst me: none so good,
So great as thee in earth or heaven abides,
And therefore I desire none besides.

Psalm 80. 12, 13, 14.

Why hast thou then broken down her hedge, that all they that go by pluck off her grapes? The wild Boar out of the Wood doth root it up, and the wild Beasts of the field devour it: Turne thee again thou God of Hosts, look down from heaven, behold and visit this Vine.

Come Lord and look how thy poor Vine lies wast,
Her hedg is broke down every hour.

And if thou dost not make the greater haste
The Wild bore will her grapes devour.
Come Lord, thine aid we crave,
Come quickly her to save.

Lord 'tis that Vine which thy right hand hath planted,
And fenc'd about for thine own use.
But she alas too long thy care hath wanted
And little fruit she doth produce,
Come Lord thine aid we crave,
Come quickly her to save.

Her Sprigs are dry, the holy Sacraments
Are stopt, or run not free to all;
Her Watch men disagreeing make her rents
So wide, she doth to pieces fall.
Come Lord, thine aid we crave,
Come quickly her to save.

Under her shade we did securely rest
And comfort we did take in it.
But now we pine away with grief opprest
To see her in th dust to sit,
Come Lord thine aid we crave,
Come quickly her to save.

Our hearts are broke, our Harps unstringed be,
Our only Musick's sighes and groans.
Our Songs are to the tune of Lachrymæ,
W'are fretted all to skin and bones.
Come, O come Lord Jesus,
Quickly come and ease us.

This is the last and worst Age we live in,
For the most righteous go to wrack;
Then set an end unto these dayes of sin
And misery; thy help we lack.

Come, O come Lord Jesus,
Quickly come and ease us.

Punish the men are settled on their Lees,
And at our suffrings make a sport;
But lift the hands up that fall down, the knees
That feeble are, do thou support.
Come, O come Lord Jesus,
Quickly come and ease us.

Bind up our wounds and pour in oyl & wine
Give Cordials to our heavy hearts,
Make up the mounds once more about this Vine,
Repair her breaches on all parts.
Come, O come Lord Jesus,
Quickly come and ease us.

Psalm 91. 11, 12.

He shall give his Angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy wayes. They shall bear thee up in their hands lest thou dash thy foot against a stone.

How dear to God is man
That he his mercy should enlarge
To this poor span,
And thus to charge
His Angels to keep every limb
of him!

Such are his strict commands
To them, that they are bound to bear
Him in their hands
Secure from fear,

Of dashing but his foot upon
a stone.

If they so careful are
To keep his foot from hurt, they have
Much greater care
His soul to save,
And it int' Abrahams bosom they
convey.

Did we poor Creatures know
How much unto their watchfulness
And care we owe;
We would express
Our thanks to God, and his name praise
alwayes:

For highly honouring us
With this rare priviledg to be
Attended thus
By Angels, he
The greater makes to serve the less;
O bless

The Lord for this, and pay
To these pure spirits reverence due,
That so they may
Ne're forsake you,
Do no vile action which may these
displease,

Or cause them to retard
Their wonted aid; each wicked deed
Raiseth their guard
In time of need;
Live so that they may you attend
to th' end

Psalm 95. 7, 8.

To day if ye will hear his voice, harden not your hearts. A DIALOGUE Between GOD and a SINNER.

Sinner.
May I not this day take my pleasure,
And hear thy voice, O God at leisure?
One day wil break no square, men say,
And wilt thou be more strict then they?
O give me leave now to rejoice,
And hereafter hear thy voice.
Thy voice which doth to vertue call
And to repentance summons all,
But that I do not love to hear,
It sounds harsh discords in my ear,
Whilst I am in my youthful blood;
When I grow old, it may be good
To take thy counsel, and attend
Thy will when I draw neer my end.
Then 'twill be time enough I trust,
To be temperate, chaste and just.
Till then I hope thou wilt dispence
With my want of innocence,
With my sports and wickednesse.
I know Lord thou canst do no lesse
Then hear my Prayer at the last,
For thou thy faithful word hast past
To pardon me when ere that I
Shall implore thy clemency.
The theif upon the Cross did find
Thy mercy, the same gracious mind
Thou still retainest, may I not then
Expect to find the like agen?

I am resolv'd what ere comes on't
To hazard ev'n my soul upon't.

God.
Bold sinner, do not thou presume
Upon my Grace; a sweet perfume,
Or pleasing Sacrifice doth from
A late repentance seldom come.
Canst thou believe that tree's ought worth,
That not till winter fruit brings forth?
Or wouldst thou be content thy wife
Should play the harlot all her life,
And at the last should tender thee
Her love and service, when that she
Through age and sickness overworn
Is most unfit to serve thy turn!
Judg then thy self if thou wouldst be
So served as thou servest me?
Thou'dst have her to thy self alone
Before her youth and beauty's gone;
I must thy love and service have
VVhen thou art dropping in thy grave.
VVhen thou art lame or impotent,
Then thou wilt be a penitent.
Fool not away thy soul with this
Presumption, for the high way 'tis
To hell; a double danger lyes
In such late conformities:
For that man that doth delay
To hearken to my voice to day,
VVill be to morrow more unfit,
And have his eare quite deaf to it.
Each cranny there will be fast barr'd,
And his heart will grow so hard
Through long continuance in sin,
That not a word can enter in;
Although I call and call again,
He is still deaf, 'tis all in vain.

Besides, should he knock at my door
When he is dying, not before,
He shall perceive it then too late,
Fast lock'd will be my Mercy Gate,
Because my Justice will not bear
That I should his Petition hear,
Who would not hear my voice at all,
Albeit I did him often call.
O then take heed, do not delay
The hearing of my voice a day.
The thief o'th' Crosse no pattern is
For thy deferr'd repentance: his
VVas extraordinary, thou
Ought'st not to look for the like now.
VVhen Christ is crucifi'd once more
Presume upon it, not before.

Psalm 119. 67.

Before I was afflicted I went astray, but now have I kept thy word.

Man like a silly sheep doth often stray,
Not knowing of his way.
Blind Deserts and the wilderness of Sin
He daily travels in;
There's nothing wil reduce him sooner then
Afflictions, to his pen.
He wanders in the Sunshine, but in rain
And stormy weather hastens home again.

Thou the great Shepherd of my soul, O keep
Me thy unworthy sheep
From gadding: or if fair means wil not do it
Let foul then bring me to it.

Rather then I should perish in my error,
Lord bring me back with terror;
Better I be chastized with thy rod
And shepherds staff, then stray from thee my God.

Though for the present stripes do grieve me sore.
At last they profit more,
And make me to observe thy word, which I
Neglected formerly,
Let me come home rather by weeping cross;
Then still be at a losse.
For health I'd rather take a bitter pil.
Then eating sweet-meats to be alwayes ill.

Prov. 4. 18.

The path of the Just is as the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day.

The just mans life's the path to heaven,
Though narrow, yet 'tis even,
No dark nor obscure way,
But shining bright as is the day;
And as the day's each minute brighter, so
He step by step doth to perfection go.

No violent motion 'tis, but creeps
A gentle pace, and peeps
Like break of day, a light
That's chequer'd betwixt black and white,
Till it increasing more and more appear
A perfect day within the Hemisphere.

The man new started from his sins
VVhen he his race begins,
Just so much light he hath
To shew him that there is a path
VVhich leads to heaven, though scarce enough to guide
His feet from slipping sometimes on each side.

A little now, a little then
As he Christ cur'd saw men
VValking at first like trees,
So doth the righteous by degrees,
Each cross he meets at first seems more then man,
A Gyant in his way to Canaan.

But as his light, his courage growes,
And then away he throwes
His fears, takes heart of Grace,
And boldly looks the world i'th' face,
Bids do its worst, and what before did seem
A Monster, now a Pigmy he doth deem.

Vice in his Native colours he
Sees and hates perfectly;
Vertue's the thing alone
That he makes his companion;
Adding of grace to grace till that his Sun
To the Meridian of his day hath run,

And then like Joshuah's fixed stands
To do all Gods commands,
Nor shall it e're go down
But glory shall his graces crown,
And make one constant day that knowes no night,
Nor lessening nor augmenting of his light.

Lord, let thy grace about me shine,
That I may not decline,

The path which leads to thee,
And may it still increasing be
Till grace and glory shall unite their rayes
Into one perfect light that ne're decayes.

Prov. 18 14.

A wounded spirit who can bear?

Is't possible? who will believe
A spirit can wounded be and grieve?
What hath no body needs no blows to fear:
Yet 'tis most true,
Gods word tells you,
A wounded spirit who can bear?

One thing there is a soul will wound
So deeply, that 'twill bleed and swound,
And even dye for grief, for shame, for fear.
Sin is the thing
Doth all this bring.
A wounded spirit who can bear?

Sin's a two edged sword which slayes
The soul of man a thousand wayes:
It kil'd the divell though he a Spirit were,
For dead he is
To Grace, to bliss.
A wounded spirit who can bear?

That man whose conscience within
Is galled with a crying sin,
How much it wracks him, how it doth him tear
No tongue can tell,
'Tis worse then hell.
A wounded spirit who can bear?

Since then it so torments the mind,
O Lord let me this favour find,
Prevent me with thy grace whiles I live here
That I may be
From great sins free,
An innocent spirit let me bear.

Or if that favour be too high,
Yet this I pray thee not deny;
That soveraign Balsom, though it cost thee deer,
Thy blood I mean,
To wash me clean,
A cleansed spirit I can bear.

Eccles. 12. 1.

Remember now thy Creator in the dayes of thy youth.

Kind is that piety which doth begin
In youth: e're 'tis accustom'd unto sin
The mind white paper is, and will admit
Of any Lesson you will write in it.
What's then imprinted there doth firmly stand
Not to be blotted out by any hand.
But when that vice hath first took up the place,
'Twill be a double labour; one to rase
Out that which long hath got possession,
Another for to make a new impression;
And a much harder task you wil it find
To root out vice, then vertue plant i'th' mind;
To cast one Divel out is greater pain,
Then two good Angels there to entertain,
To keep a Vessel sweet is not so much,
As when once sowred 'tis to make it such

And look at first how it hath season'd bin,
It will retain that odour still therein.
He that ne're thinks on God till he is old,
Gray headed, and his blood froze up with cold.
Wrackt with Diseases, one foot in the grave,
Whom all the Art of Physick cannot save,
A Colledg of Physicians not reprieve,
Or keep his carkass scarce a day alive;
O what a business it will be to climb
To heaven by penitence, when there's no time,
Nor means for him to do it in! but he
By vertue of his faith, not works, must be
Rapt thither in an instant, as if heaven
Would be to him at the first asking given.
But man remember thy Creator now
Whiles God both time and means doth thee allow.
Trust not thy soul upon a broken reed,
Faith without works will stand in little steed:
When thy first dayes and best in sin are past,
Think not God will accept thy worst and last.

Eccles. 12. 7.

Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was, and the Spirit shall returne to God that gave it.

Our famous Harvey hath made good
The circulation of the blood,
And what was paradox; we know
To be a demostration now.
The like in bodies doth befall
Civil as well as Natural.
Such revolutions in them found,
That they are alwaies turning round,

We knew a kingdome which of late
Converted was into a State;
And from the hands of many men,
That State devolv'd to one agen.
VVe know that wealth, which now doth flow
I'th' City veins did lately grow
I'th' Country furrowes, and the same
Soon runs to th' place from whence it came.
VVe know our bodies frame of dust
At first created was, and must
Crumble to dust ere long; we see
Not one from Dissolution free.
VVe know, or (what's equivalent)
Believe our souls, which God first sent
To make our bodies move and live,
Shall go to him who them did give;
VVhen once their Maker them commands,
They strait return into his hands.
Thus we see almost every thing
Circling about as in a ring.
The winter season of the yeer,
Is now turn'd Summer every where.
This summer will to winter turn,
And that freeze, which before did burn.
Rivers which borrow from the main
Their streames, do pay them back again.
Since nothing under heaven hath rest,
But floating up and down, 'tis best
To look above, and fix mine eyes
VVhere not the shadow of change lyes:
No variations there, but all
Stand still in state pacifical.
Go then my Dust to Dust, but thou my soul
Return unto thy Rest above the Pole.

Cant. 1. 5.

I am black but comely, O ye Daughters of Jerusalem.

A DIALOGUE Between the CHURCH and her DAUGHTERS

Daught.
You were our Mother once, most bright and fair
Admir'd and lov'd by every eye,
No earthly beauty could with you compare;
But now y'are of another dye.

VVe ne're beheld a Moor more black then you
Are by this unexpected change,
VVe hardly can believe it to be true,
The sight so uncouth is and strange.

You are become a widow desolate,
You have no Suitors as before.
VVe are asham'd to own you, since of late
Most men have cast you out of door.

Church.
Despise me not, although that black I am,
The reason you shall understand;
From an extreme hot Country late I came,
From that Egyptian Sun-burnt Land.

There I was scorcht, and lost my beauty there,
By lying long amongst the Pots

And Brick-kilns, heavy burthens I did bear;
Thus I contracted all my spots.

Yet be not you asham'd of me, for I,
Though black without, am fair within;
My soul is purged from impurity,
And grace hath now excluded sin.

It was the plot of my Beloved, who
Seeing me proud, and wanton grow
Of my unparallell'd beauty, serv'd me so;
To keep me up he brought me low.

He took away the lustre of my face,
But gave another to my mind;
And now I do account it no disgrace,
Since this the better far I find.

'Tis not the fairness of the face, but soul,
VVhich doth invite my Lord to love:
If he perceive the inward parts be foul,
The outward not at all him move.

No matter though I black to others seem,
VVhilst I am comely in his eyes;
If be me worthy of his love esteem,
I care not who doth me despise.

VVhen he shall find it fit to wash off all
My black, and outward grace restore,
Like the Sun after an Eclipse, I shall
Shine brighter then I did before.

Isaiah 57. 15.

Thus saith the High and Lofty one that inhabiteth Eternity, whose name is Holy, I dwell in the high and holy place, with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit:

Lord, thou hast told us that there be
Two dwellings which belong to thee,
And those two (that's the wonder)
Are far asunder.

The one the highest heaven is,
The mansions of eternal bliss;
The other's the contrite
And humble sprite.

Not like the Princes of the earth,
VVho think it much below their birth
To come within the door
Of people poor.

No, such is thy humility,
That though thy dwelling be on high,
Thou dost thy self abase
To th' lowest place.

VVhere ere thou seest a sinful soul
Deploring his offences foul,
To him thou wilt descend,
And be his friend.

Thou wilt come in, and with him sup,
And from a low state raise him up,
Till thou hast made him eat
Blest Angels meat.

Thus thou wilt him with honour crown
VVho in himself is first cast down,
And humbled for his sins,
That thy love wins.

Though heaven be high, the gate is low,
And he that comes in there must bow:
The lofty looks shall ne're
Have entrance there.

O God since thou delight'st to rest
In the humble contrite brest,
First make me so to be,
Then dwell with me.

Lam. 3. 39.

Wherefore doth a living man complain? a man for the punishment of his sins.

Why doth a living man complain,
VVhen for his sins he punish'd is?
Since his complaint is all in vain
And he no ease obtaines by this,
But rather adds new torments to the sore,
And by impatience makes his sufferings more.

So have I seen i'th' Fowlers gin,
A bird by striving out to get,

The faster hath entangled bin,
And ne're could scape out of the net.
VVere he a while but quiet, he might spy
Perhaps some hole or other through to fly.

But man of all things hath least cause
To murmur or complain at all,
Since by oft breaking of Gods Lawes
He justly in this toil doth fall.
For sin and suffering are correlatives,
A Malefactor well deserves his gyves.

A mercy 'tis that he yet lives,
And hopes a pardon he may have,
Not so much favour the Law gives,
It's the Law-givers part to save.
He ought not to complain, but to be glad,
VVhiles he's alive and pardon may be had.

VVhen thou chastizest me, O Lord,
And for my sin dost make me smart,
I'l not return an angry word,
But take it from thee in good part;
Since thou exactest of me less then I
Deserved have for mine iniquity.

Hosea 2. 19.

I will betroth thee unto me for ever, yea, I will betroth thee unto me in Righteousness, and in judgment, and in loving kindness, and in tender mercies:

Let all Records be searched o're and o're,
Such an unequal marriage as this
Was never seen or heard before,
VVhere heaven and earth, God and man kiss,
VVhere Majesty and misery do meet,
Power and infirmity each other greet.

Thou art the King of Glory, Lord of life,
Thy Spouse at best a Creature poor; but since
Her fall deform'd, and no fit wife
VVill make for thee so great a Prince.
Go court the Angels then; yet they, though bright,
Are creatures too, and scarce pure in thy sight;

How much less I that on my belly creep,
And cleave unto the earth, that did begin
As soon as I was born to weep,
As soon as I could go to sin,
VVhen I polluted in my blood did lye
No eye would pity me but all past by;

Cast out i'th' open field I was, to th' shame
And loathing of my person in the day
That I was born, then my Lord came
Like the Samaritan that way,

And took me up; thy mercy did thee move,
Not my desert, that was thy time of love.

Nor is thy love fickle as most mens be,
VVho soon grow weary of their former choice,
VVhen they a greater beauty see,
But thou with me wilt still rejoice.
Thou hast betroth'd me to thy self for ever,
And if I leave thee not, wilt leave me never.

Thou that didst love me when I nothing had
That lovely was, endue me with thy grace;
For with that wedding garment clad,
Thou wilt no blemish in my face
Or any other part of me espy,
But I shall alwayes seem fair in thine eye.

And that my love to thee may never fail,
No more then thine to me, open mine eyes,
And then thy glorious face unvaile
That above all I may thee prize,
Believing I the greatest bliss obtain,
VVhen thou lov'st me, and I love thee again.

Jonah 4

Upon Jonas his anger at Gods sparing of Niniveh, and destroying the Gourd.

Art angry Jonah 'cause God gracious is
And merciful to Niniveh? is this
Thy charity, that thou hast rather see
Thousands of people perish, then to be
Deem'd a false Prophet? wouldst thou have thy Lord
Deny himself to justifie thy word?
Not spare the Penitent, since thou hast said,
Yet forty dayes and Niniveh's destroid?
Not so; forbear thy passion, curb thine ire,
Let God be true, and every man a lyar.
It cruelty, not Justice were, if them
VVho have repented once God should condemn.
God is as just as merciful when he
Forgives the sinner his iniquity
Upon his true Conversion. Nor may we
Think God is mutable in his decree,
But man the Changeling is, tis his contrition
That makes him capable of Gods remission.
The judgment thou denouncedst did suppose
This tacite limitation, if that those
'Gainst whom 'twas past, continued obstinate
VVithout returning from their wicked state.
But they repenting God, revokes his doom,
And th' objects of his pity they become;
Yet thou art angry still, and needs wilt dye,
Before that God shall shew his clemency
On them, whiles thou art guilty of the same
For which thou dost thy God so boldly blame.

Thou but a mortal man dost pity take
Upon a gourd which God made for thy sake;
And shal not the immortal God have pity
On Niniveh, that is so great a City?
A City he for his own glory made,
And must that City perish whiles thy shade
Remains untouch't? This gourd no fruit doth bear,
Yet flourish must, whiles men for whose use were
All things created, must dest oyed be,
Only to please thy froward phantasie;
This gourd, because thy covering, thou wouldst spare
Though it grew up without thy cost and care;
But Niniveh must down, which God did frame,
And to that height of honour brought the same,
That tis th' imperial City of the East,
Within whose walls resteth both man and beast;
It is a shade to thousand, yet must down,
Or else thy Lord shal now incurre thy frown.
This gourd came up and vanish't in a night,
Yet such thy love's to it, and such thy spight
To Niniveh, that though it was not built
In many ages, must in one be spilt,
Yea, thou wouldst have one hour to deface
And ruinate this stately towring place
Of three dayes journey, th'wonder of the world,
Into a strange confused Chaos hurl'd.
O Lord, how far thy thoughts above mans are,
Thy waies 'bove his! 'twixt them there's no compare.
Mans mercies cruel be, if weigh'd with thine;
Thy judgments, mercies be, mercies divine
And infinite. Such vast and mighty odds
There is 'twixt our affections and Gods;
If he were not more merciful then we,
One of a thousand would not saved be;
Whom God thinks fit to spare, we damne to hel,
And think in doing so that we do wel:
All that dissent from us we curse and banne,
As if they were worse then a Publican.

Cease, cease rash man, who dust and ashes art,
To contradict thy Maker, and to thwart
His righteous Judgments, which are so profound
A deepe, that thy short line can never sound
The bottome of them; thou may'st in thy span
As soon contain the Earth and Ocean,
As comprehend them in thy shallow brain;
The thought's blasphemous as th'attempt is vaine.
Seek not above thy reasons reach t'aspire,
And what thou canst not comprehend admire.
Submit thy Judgment unto Gods, so shall
Thy feet stand firmly, whereas others fal;
Thou shalt like th' Israelites, walk on dry ground
Whiles others like the Egyptians are drownd
In the red sea of their owne censures; so
By judging others, they themselves judge too.
Do not conceit thy faith to be the lesse
'Cause it abounds in charitablenesse;
Without all question his faith is the best,
Whose charity flames highest in his brest;
And his religion is most Christian,
That saves a world rather then damns a man.
Let then God mercy shew to Niniveh,
I wil not with the Prophet angry be;
But wish to all the same repentant minde,
And pray they may the like forgiveness find.

Zeph. 1. 12.

It shall come to passe at that time, that I wil search Jerusalem with Candles, and punish the men, &c.

When God shall inquisition make
For sin, What man can chuse but quake?
No place he hath his head to hide,
Lurke where he wil, heel be espied.
But why with candles wil God look,
As if some corner or close nook
Of his Jerusalem could be
(Without their light) from his sight free?
No, he that form'd the eye wil see
Through the greatest obscurity.
Candles are uselesse, when the day
Appears, we throw them then away.
Yea when the Sun begins to shine,
The brightest stars their light decline.
Gods eyes ten thousand times more bright
Are then the Suns, and there's no night
At all to him; by Candles then
He speaks to th' common sense of men,
Letting them know, that as when we
Intend to make a scrutinie,
And strictly search for some rare thing
That's lost, Jewel or Diamond Ring;
We candles light, and pore about
The house, we pry within, without,
Leave not a hole unsearcht, for fear
The thing we look for should lye there.
So God to take all thoughts from us,
Of scaping his inquiry, thus

Himselfe expresses; If he search
Jerusalem so close, his Church;
What wil become of Babylon
The wicked Citie, where not one
Righteous is to be found? That needs
No inquisition, their ill deeds
Are so transparent to each eye
As he that runs may them espie,
Where crimes are open to the view
Of all, not search, but plagues are due.
Lord give me grace for to prevent
As wel the search, as punishment;
Teach me to cast mine eye within
My brest, and spie out every sin
Which there lies hid, that so I may
(Judging my self before the day)
Avoid the Judgments just which shall
Upon the wicked heavy fall.

Zech. 13. 1.

In that day there shal be a fountain opened to the house of David, and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem for sin, and for uncleannesse.

Never was Lepers body halfe so foule
As is the sinners soule,
Each power and facultie
Polluted is, not the least part being free;
No Fullers soap, nor nitre can
Make clean this soiled soul of man,

But lo an holy Wel is opened wide,
Which runs from Gods own side,

Whose vertue is so rare,
That it wil make the blackest Ethiop faire;
In this clear fountain sinners may
Wash all their spots and stains away.

Open it is to all, to all that be
Of Davids familie,
And of Jerusalem;
This fountaine only opened is to them
That of the faithful seed are sprung,
To them of right it doth belong.

They that are strangers to the Covenant
And saving faith do want,
This holy Well disdain,
As if it no more vertue did contain
Then Abana and Pharpar, which
Can hardly cure a scab or itch;

Much lesse the spreading leprosie of sin
Which sticks so close within
That nought can cleanse the same
But th' Aqua Vitæ which from Christs side came:
Go then, my soul, and drink thy fil,
See, from his heart it doth distil.

What though thou very poor and wretched art,
In it thou may'st have part,
For tis the beggars bath
As much as tis the Kings, and he that hath
A mind for to be cleans'd indeed,
May use the same as he hath need.

Mal. 3. 17:

They shall be mine saith the Lord of Hosts, in that day when I make up my Jewels.

You that of godlinesse do make a mock,
And those that are religious jeere,
As if they were your laughing stock;
Know that ere long God wil appear
To judge this wicked world; and then
They wil be found to be the only men.

Though now you tread them underneath your feete,
And no more reckoning of them make
Then of the dust that's in the street,
The time shal come when God wil take
Them for his richest Jewels, and
Prize them, as 'twere the signet on's right hand.

Yea to your shame and wonder he will raise
The value of them above all
That you can think is worthy praise,
Or whatsoe're thou precious cal:
Gold is but drosse, Pearls pebbles are
To what they shall be, there is no compare.

And how can it be otherwise, when they
Derive their lustre from his face?
Not Sol himself shines at mid-day
With so illustrious a grace;
For every grace which they have here,
Shal be a glory in the highest sphere,

I care not then how I am vilified,
Or what the world doth make of me;
Let men at pleasure me deride,
So that I may Gods Jewel be:
For though I now am trampled down,
Hee'le make me up a diamond in his Crown.

Matth. 6. 19, 20.

Lay not up for your selves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where theeves break thorow and steal: but lay up for your selves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where theeves do not break thorow nor steale.

Give o're your greedinesse, muck-worms give o're,
And trade no more;
For Apes and Peacocks, and such petty toyes
Are fit for boyes.
Men that have reason and religion too,
Scorne so to do;
They count that voyage to be lost that brings
No better things.
For all the treasures of the earth will not
Make a man happy if they could be got.

Some think the Indies to the King of Spain
Bring little gaine,
And that our seventh Henry was more wise
Them to despise.
Though offered to him; this we know, that Prince
Is poorer since;

And notwithstanding all his golden mines
He stil declines.
For all those treasures that are fetcht from far,
When home they come are strait consum'd in war.

What private man can then his riches boast?
He that had most
Amongst us when our troubles first begun,
Is now undone;
And he that since of thousands is possest,
Though kept in's chest
Fast under lock and key, may soon be brought
Not worth a groat.
Thus fortunes wheele is turning up and down,
To day 'twil smile on thee, to morrow frown.

Who then of this worlds wealth would guilty bee,
Since that we see
No certaintie in riches can be had?
That man is mad
Who seeks to hedge the Cuckoe in, and stay
What wil away.
For riches wings unto themselves do make,
And their flight take,
Like th'Eeagle towards heaven; none can hold
Or clip their wings, though they be made of gold.

Be wise, and lay up treasures that are sure
And wil endure
In spite of fraud or force. Heavens the place
The treasures grace.
When all your temporal estates do perish,
This stil shal flourish.
How much it doth all earthly goods excel,
I cannot tell;
But this I can assure you, there is none
Can bring it under sequestration.

Travel by Sea or Land, go where you will,
'Tis with you still.
It costs you nought the Portage, nor will make
Your Back to ake.
No burthen 'tis, but full of ease and joy
In the convoy.
Nor Soldier nor Pirate can it force,
Or make divorce
'Twixt you and it. Once fix it in your heart,
And make much of it, it will ne're depart;

But grow from Grace to Grace, and never cease
For to increase,
Bringing forth fruits of Piety and Love,
Making us move,
Fast towards our Center, Heaven, until our soul
Knock at the pole
And enter into that eternal rest
With all the Blest.
Society of Saints and Angels, this
When all is done the only treasure is.

Matthew 10. 16.

Be ye wise as Serpents, and harmless as doves.

Next to the Angels Man created was,
In knowledg and all parts he did surpass
The other Creatures; yet is such a fool
Become by sin, that he may go to School
To birds and beasts, the little Ant and Bee,
Both thrift can teach him and good husbandry:
The Serpent wisdom, the Dove innocence,
That to avoid, this to give no offence.

That to prevent dangers before they fall,
And this not to revenge a wrong at all.
How farre is man to seek in both these kinds,
He by too sad experience daily finds.
Into a world of mischiefs he doth run,
Undoing others, and himself undone.
Some Serpents craft he hath, but not the love,
The candour, and the mildnesse of the Dove;
That hath took wing long since and fled away,
Nought but the Serpents sting behind doth stay.
Malice enough to be reveng'd, but none
Of the true wisdome of the beast; that's gone.
My God, who didst both these at first instil
In Dove and Serpent; let it be thy wil
T'infuse them both in me, that I may live
So innocent, as no offence I give
To others, and so prudent too, that I
May not to injuries exposed lie.

Matth. 11. 19.

Behold a man gluttonous, and a wine bibber, a friend of Publicans and sinners.

Why should I think to be
From calumny or slander free,
When I see men afford
No better language to my Lord?
My Lord though free from sin,
Free from detraction hath not been:
If to a feast he come,
He is a glutton called by some.
If wine he drink, O then they crie
He is a drunkard presently;

If he converse with common people, then
He's friend to Publicans and sinful men.

My God, since thou didst bear
Such vile reproaches, I'l not fear
The like, nor be asham'd
By wicked men to be defam'd:
It is the Godlies lot,
A blessing rather then a blot.
Their tongue no slander is,
They kill me when they kiss.
VVhen they revile, I'm ne're the worse,
VVhen they commend me, 'tis a curse.
Their commendation is a sign that I
Too much with their ill courses do comply.

Let them then do their worst,
And swell with poison till they burst,
Spit all their venom on me,
Till they believe they have undone me,
Cast all the dirt they can
To make me like them, a bad man;
It shall not trouble me,
Since so they served thee.
My Lord and Master suffered so,
VVhy should I Scot-free think to go?
VVhiles thou art witnesse of my innocence
I'l take it for a favour, no offence.

Matth. 26. 39.

O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup passe from me: neverthelesse not as I wil, but as thou wilt.

Lord, what a bitter draught this was,
Which made thee pray
Thy Father thrice that it might passe
From thee away?
'Twas deadly poison fil'd the glasse.

Thy Fathers wrath, and our sins were
Both in one cup,
Who then could blame thee for to fear
To drink it up,
Or pray it might not thee come neer?

Yet such thy love to man was, and
Thy duty to
Thy Father, thou wouldst not withstand
His wil, but do
What e're it pleas'd him to command.

Though it displeasing were to thine
As flesh and blood,
Thou saidst, Thy wil be done, not mine.
I think it good
This cup no longer to decline,

My God, it is my purpose now
Sin to detest,

And never more it room allow
within my brest,
Since with't thy cup did overflow.

But if to me dispos'd thou art
Some of the gall
And bitter potion to impart,
I'l take it all,
And pledge my Lord with all my heart.

And good cause why, since I am sure,
That on the Crosse
Thou drank'st the dregs, I may endure
A gentle dose,
'Twil not my corr'sive be, but cure.

Mark 10. 51.

The blind man said unto Jesus, Lord, that I may receive my sight.

What wouldst thou see poor man, that thou wouldst fain
Receive thy sight again?
Should Beauty be thy object? That's a fire
Wil kindle loose desire,
And put thy soul out, making thee in minde
As in thy body blind.
I made a Covenant with mine eye, Job said,
Not once to look on maid.
If then to gaze on beauty thou delight,
Thou'dst better want thy sight.

What wouldst thou see poor man, that thou wouldst fain
Receive thy sight again?
Should Riches be thy Object? they entice
Unto a baser vice,
And make thee poorer then thou wast before
By coveting of more;
Wishing with Achan for that wedge of gold,
Thou didst but now behold;
Or else with Ahab, longing to be Lord
Of Naboth his Vineyard.
If then to gaze on riches thou delight,
Thou'dst better want thy sight.

What wouldst thou see poor man, that thou wouldst fain
Receive thy sight again?
Should Honour be thy object? That's a thing
No true content can bring,
But puffe thee up with an ambitious rage,
And to high acts engage,
With Herod Law and Justice trampling downe
Thereby to gain a Crown;
Til Icarus his fal become thy fate,
And thou repent too late;
If then to gaze on Honour thou delight,
Thou'dst better vvant thy sight.

What woudlst thou see poor man, that thou wouldst fain
Receive thy sight again?
Should Jesus be thy Object? He is one
Worth looking on alone;
For hadst thou eies, in's person thou mightest see
Both God and man to be;
Humilitie his majestie did shade,
When he a man was made;
Thou couldst not see his face, and live before
That flesh had veild him o're;
As friend with friend, so thou maist with him talk
As Moses once, and walk

As Enoch did, but more familiarly,
Since he's a man like thee
In all but sin; in him as in a glass
We see God face to face.
The Godhead bodily in him doth dwel,
Of life he is the well,
The way to heaven, the spring of grace and glory.
O 'tis too long a story
To tell thee what he is, so great 's his worth
No pen can set it forth
Though snatcht from Angels wing: wel maist thou pray
To see this Star of day,
This Sun of Righteousness which with his raies
Produceth endless joies.
If then to gaze on Jesus thou delight,
'Twere best to be all sight.
Pray still that he would give thee the fruition
Of this thrice happy vision.

Luke 5. 8.

Lord, depart from me, for I am a sinful man.

Lord thou art just, I am a sinful man,
Thou art as fire, and I as tow, how can
We meet together, but I needs must be
Consum'd to dust and ashes strait by thee?
Since I so frail am, thou so furious art,
Have I not cause to pray thee Lord depart?

Yet thou art merciful as well as just,
And he from whom thou partest perish must.

As I do fear thy Justice, so do I
Thy mercie want to help my miserie;
Have I not then far greater cause to pray
That thou wouldst not depart, but with me stay?

My God, in thee both Attributes combine,
Enough for me if one of them be mine;
Thus thou whose presence heaven and earth doth stil
Maist go from me, and yet be with me stil;
Whiles I am sinful, Justice get thee gone,
Mercy, be thou my sole companion.

John 6. 70.

Have not I chosen you twelve, and one of you is a divel?

Not chance, but choice did first Apostles make;
Christ did not them at all adventures take:
But as his heavenly wisdome thought most fit,
For his own purpose, so he order'd it.
He raised not an army for to fight
And force religion, but did men invite
By gentle means; twelve of the simpler sort
Serv'd to make up his train, and kept his court;
His father could (if so he had been bent)
Have more then twelve legions of Angels sent
To wait upon him, but he was inclin'd
To put off state, and put on a meek mind;
That so the world condemned by mans pride
Might by an humble God be justified.
These twelve thus chosen were enabled too
By power divine all miracles to do,

All languages to speak, and by his word
All nations to turn unto the Lord.
Let the pretenders then unto the Spirit
Prove by the like effects, that they inherit
Th' Apostles preaching office, and we shall
Obey their voice, and hearken to their call;
But whiles they speak no language but their own,
Nor any miracles to work are knowne,
Yet take upon them the Apostles places
To teach and preach, though void of all their graces.
Have we not reason then to think, that they
Who enter not by th'door, but some back way
Into the sheep fold, and not called dare
Intrude thus boldly, no true Shepherds are,
But wolves, that under a false vizard creepe;
Not to instruct, but to devour the sheep?
But who would ever have imagined
One of Christs Colledg, which had Christ for head
And founder too, should divel turne, and be
A traitor to his master? Yet we see
One of these twelve, that could preach very wel,
And wonders work, his own deer Lord did sel
For a smal matter; thus the best of things
Corrupted once, the worst contagion brings.
What place or person can be free from vice
Which seised on man even in paradise,
Crept into heaven, and Angels caus'd to fall,
Made them and an Apostle divels all?
To gather Churches then's a vaine attempt,
As if you could have any quite exempt
From sinful men; when do what e're you can
The hypocrite wil be the holy man,
And put as good a face on't as the best:
Purge ne're so much your body, there will rest
Some noxious humours in't, some Judas wil
In spite of you, lie lurking in it stil.
Christs Church is likened by him to a field
Which tares and wheat confusedly doth yeeld,

And he commandeth us to let both grow
Together til the harvest, lest that now
By hastie separation, e're the day,
We not good husbands, but the wilde Bores play,
Rooting up both, whereas they both should stand,
And waite the weeding of the Angels hand.
You'l say, by Tares is meant the hypocrite,
Which cannot be discerned by our sight,
Being only knowne to God; and therefore we
May mix with him in our society;
Whereas the wicked is so easily known,
We may and ought shun his communion.
Why then did Christ into his fellowship
Take Judas, suffer him to kisse his lip,
Cal him by'th'name of friend, nay give him leave
The holy Sacrament for to receive;
Although he knew his heart, and all the evil
He had conceiv'd, which made him up a divel?
And so no hypocrite to Christ was he:
What shall we purer then our Saviour be?
'Tis true, the childrens bread should not be cast
To dogs, yet of the crumbs the dogs may taste;
And who knowes but the tasting of them may
Turn dogs to Christians ere they goe away?
The Word alone converts a wicked mind,
Much more the Word and Sacrament combind;
Both holy be: And if we must for bear,
To give the Sacrament to some for fear
Of profanation, Why do we dispense
The Word to all men without difference?
Or if we must not give it 'cause it may
Prove death to some that take it the wrong way;
The very same may of the Word be said,
Therefore to preach it we should be afraid
To mixed Congregations, left that some
Should worser then they were before become.
This only so falls out by accident,
'Tis neither in the Word, nor Sacrament.

God commonly by them grace on us pours,
If it prove death, the fault's not theirs, but ours.
It is the duty then of every one,
To fit himself for this communion;
And if the Minister the danger tell
Of taking it unworthily, 'tis wel;
His own soul he delivers if he do it,
Upon their peril 'tis that wil come to it.
We wish the Church invested were again
With power, notorious sinners to restraine,
And excommunicate them too; til then
We may reprove, but not correct these men:
It is our hearts desire, and we pray
That every one rightly receive it may;
And that no Judas any more may be
Admitted to this blest Society;
But this is rather to be wisht then found
In this craz'd age, where more are sick then sound.
More traitors then are faithful, twelve to one,
How can we then make separation?
For if we wil not partial be, but just,
Scarce one of twelve into our flock we must
Receive; and then how many little flocks
Wil there be of us, subject to the mocks
Of all our enemies? and whiles that each
Intends his own particular, the breach
Wil wider grow i'th' general, and we
May seek a Church, but stil to seek shal be.

John 14. 2.

I go to prepare a place for you.

What a high favour's this,
That God should be mans harbinger to blisse?
When John prepar'd the way before thy face,
O Christ, 'twas no smal grace

Unto the Baptist then;
Much greater dost thou now bestow on men,
In that thou goest before to make us roome
In heaven against we come.

Lord, we were not more glad
At thy first coming, then we should be sad
At thy departure; didst not thou impart
This cordial to our heart,

Chearing our spirits thus,
That thou possession tak'st of heaven for us;
Thou in our flesh hast entered there, and we
By vertue thereof be

Assured of our places,
As soone as ever we have run our races;
With all the Patriarchs, we shal sit down
And there receive our Crown.

It is then fit and just
That we should think of shaking off our dust,

And laying downe our earthly Tabernacles,
Which are to us as shackles,

And hinder our souls flight
To those blest Mansions which are ours by right.
Let us not dreame of setting up our rest
Til w'are of heaven possest.

That is our center, that
Our country is, our proper place, whereat
All our endeavours must aim, since we are ne're
At home til we come there.

O thou that art the way,
And went'st the way before us, grant we may
Follow thy steps so close, that in the end
We may that place ascend.

John 14. 6.

I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

I Came from heaven to be your guide, and I
Am he by whom your path to heaven doth lie,
The steps I trod on earth are th' only right
Way to those Mansions of most glorious light;
The doctrine which I taught you is the whole
Truth, which it follow'd wel, wil save your soul,
And bring you to those joyes shall never end,
The joyes to which blest spirits doe ascend;
Life without death, to that your hopes must tend.

Acts 9. 4.

Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?

Never was union seene
So strict as that between
Christ and his members; though in hevaen he be,
And we on earth, yet see
We cannot suffer here, but strait he cryes
And feels our miseries,
As if they were his own:
So wel to him th'are known,
That what e're persecutions we sustain,
He hath the greatest share, and wil complaine.

Talk not what vertue lies
In secret sympathies,
As that between the loadstone and the steele
Which do at distance feele
Each others force, and by an innate love
This unto that wil move,
Or that betwixt the wound
And Talbot powder found;
Or of that sensitive plant, whose vertue's such,
That it contracts it self at every touch.

All these, though very rare,
Secrets in nature are;
But grace a stronger sympathy doth make
'Twixt Christ and us: we take
New life from him, as he took flesh from us.
We now are one; and thus

Our wounds are his, our smart
Grives him unto the heart;
Who touch us, touch the apple of his eye,
A tender part, how can he chuse but cry?

You then that persecute
And all your arrowes shoot
Against the truly Christian, know that you
One day shall deerly rue
And pay for this your spite, your arrowes all
On your own head shal fall,
You'l find it hard to kick
Against the sharpest prick;
And whiles you aime at man, you shoot far wide,
Hitting your God thorow your brothers side.

Why then my soul art thou
So sad, because that now
By wicked men thou persecuted art?
Thy Saviour bears a part,
And wil revenge thy cause against thy foes;
His hand thy wounds wil close,
As though his own they were,
No more their malice fear;
For let them do the worst to thee they can,
Since that thy fellow suff'rer's God and man.

1 Cor. 6. 19.

What, know ye not that your body is the Temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, which ye have of God; and yee are not your own?

Lord, what an humble God art thou,
Thus to descend
And be my friend,
Yea, more then friend, mine In-mate now?

Dost not enough thy self abase,
To look on me,
But I must be
Thy Temple and thy dwelling place?

This my vile Body thou dost take,
And thinkest fit
To honor it,
And for thy use a house it make.

Henceforth I'l prize this house of thine
At a high rate,
Being consecrate
To thee, and count it no more mine.

Not any part thereof shall be
An instrument
To sin, but bent
In holy wayes to wait on thee.

The windowes in't shall be mine eyes
Through which I'l see
My God, thou me;
My tongue shall offer Sacrifice.

My lips the Calves which I will pay
To thee my Lord,
And every word
Well weigh'd I'l on thine Altar lay.

My Lungs the bellowes which shall blow
The holy fire
Of my desire,
Till to a lively flame it grow.

My Prayer as Incense shall ascend,
And every room
In me perfume,
That no ill savour thee offend.

My heart shall be the Holocaust,
My hands shall bring
An Offering
And all shall serve the Holy Ghost.

1 Cor. 10. 12.

Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall.

Let none presume he stands so fast,
But that he may fall first or last:
The most confirm'd in grace,
Stands in a slipp'ry place:
He treads on ice, and if he take not care
Unto his steps, is down e're he's aware.

'Tis hard to keep a middle way
'Twixt two extreams and never stray,
Since to the worst, mans mind
By nature is inclind;
Each vertue hath two vices on both sides,
'Tis odds, that into one of them he slides.

So many snares, so many evils,
So many doubts, so many divels
Environ him about,
That be he ne're so stout,
His faith may faile, his feet may slip awry,
And he soon fall from his integrity,

David that was so great, so good,
And highly in Gods favour stood,
In two such sins he fell
As might have damn'd him well,
But that in mercy God pleas'd to restore
Him to that state that he was in before.

Peter though he a pillar were
Of th' Church, his Master did forswear,
Such power had fear to make
His former faith to shake.
Thus he who stood the day before so strong,
Was to his grief and shame laid all along.

I will not be too confident
Of my fast footing, but content
My faith and fear should stand
Together hand in hand,
That fear may keep my faith from being too bold.
And faith my fear from losing of its hold.

1 Cor. 15. 19.

If in this life only we have hopes in Christ, then were wee of all men most miserable.

I were of things the worst
And most accurst
If in this life my happiness did end,
Beasts and Birds me exceed
In strength in speed,
The Divels me in knowledg far transcend.

The wicked in sports swim
Up to the brim,
The Epicure abounds in carnal pleasure;
Th' ambitious man is crown'd
With Honours round;
The Covetous augments his daily Treasure.

My conscience will not let
Me Riches get
As others do, by rapine and deceit;
Such wayes it checks me in
Saying 'tis sin,
And warnes me of the hook under the bait.

As sparks do upwards fly
Even so am I
To troubles born; at every turn we meet:
Reproach and ignomy
My Honours be;
My wealth serves but to buy a winding sheet.

Yet courage take my soul,
Let faith controul
Thy reason; let it fix thy thoughts elsewhere;
These worldly things ne're can
Make happy man;
Thy happinesse comes from a higher sphere,

With holy Job then know,
Though thou art low,
Thy head's as high as heaven; there lives he
Who thy Redeemer is,
And that thy bliss
In seeing him with these same eyes shal be.

Worldly delights be gone,
In him alone
All wealth, all honor, and all pleasure lies:
No sorrowes then shall rest
Within my brest,
His hand shal wipe all tears from my sad eys.

His hand my head shall raise,
And crown with joyes,
Such joies no eye hath seen, nor ear hath heard,
No tongue of men can tell,

Nor Angels well,
Only to feel them shall be my reward.

2 Cor. 12. 10.

When I am weake, then I am strong.

What Paradox is this, that there should be
Weakness and strength at the same time in me?
A Paradox to Nature, not to Grace,
Where without contradiction both have place;
When I am weakin body, then I find
That I am strong i'th' vertues of the mind;
And when I am brought by affliction low,
Then I in spiritual comforts high do grow.
When of my self I cannot go nor stand,
Yet I supported by Gods heavenly hand
Can safely travel through a world of wo,
Yea, through the valley of deaths shadow go
And fear no ill; walk through a sea of troubles,
Yet never sink, counting the waves but bubbles,
Which my faith blowes away; my hope doth sound
The greatest depths, and even touch the ground;
When I am ready to be swallowed by
Deaths greedy jawes, faith sets me up on high
Like Moses on Mount Pisgah, whence I can
Behold a better Land, of Canaan.

And enter too, where I with joy shall see
His glories in a blest eternity.
If so much strength to weakness doth belong,
Lord make me weak that thou maist make me strong.

Gal. 2. 20.

Nevertheless I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved, me and gave his life for me.

Behold the priviledg of a Christian
Above another man,
Both Tenants to one Lord,
Yet in their Tenures they do not accord:
One hath two lives in present, and the third
In future, but confirm'd by Gods own Word.

The life of Nature first, the life of Grace
Takes up the second place,
The life of Glory last,
Which comes not till the other two are past.
The Christian esteems the Natural
Compar'd with th' other nothing worth at all.

The Natural man in present hath but one,
And in reversion none;
Yet he doth so depend
Upon that one, as if it ne're would end.
Not once considering how each trivial thing
Serves to draw on its speedy ruining.

And as the beasts that perish, so shal he
To dust dissolved be;
Yea, a worse mischief shall
After this life this wretched man befall,
Of his unhappiness it being the least
That his short breath expireth like the beast.

For his one life a double death shall have;
His body in the grave,
His soul in hell shall lye,
A second death that's to eternity.
A miserable man he is indeed,
Whose single short life two long deaths succeed.

I will account no more this life of mine
To be my own, but thine;
Not I, but thou dost live
In me, who for me (Lord) thy self didst give.
It was thy love that made thee dye for me,
It is my faith that makes me live in thee?

Phil. 3. 13, 14.

I count not my selfe to have apprehended; but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the Mark, for the prize of the high Calling of God in Christ Jesus.

This ilfe is like a race,
Where every one's a Runner, and the prize
A Crown of Glory: Heavens the place
Where the Mark's set before our eyes.

I who have not as yet
Scarce run out half the way, must not sit down
And think I've done enough, but sweat
And labour hard to get the Crown.

Nor may I cast an eye
Behind, to see how many I've out run,
But with the foremost I must vie
And better end then I begun.

For if I fail at last,
When I have gone the greatest part o'th' Race,
Or give off when the worst is past,
It will be much to my disgrace.

Nor is that all, but then
Another man shall take my crown from me,
And I with the faint-hearted men,
Out of the Lists quite cast shall be.

O Lord do thou annoint
Me with thy oil of Grace from top to toe,
In every lim and every joint,
That I may never weary grow.

But persevering in
My course with vigorous and active strength,
May be so happy as to win
The Goal first, and the Crown at length.

Heb. 13. 14.

Here we have no continuing City, but we seek one to come.

Man is a Creature loves society,
And cannot long alone be well,
Hence God made Eve that she
Might with him dwell.

From these two sprung
A numerous family,
That to a City grew ere long,
And that impli'd strength and stability.

But see how soon this City came to nought,
Being destroy'd with its own weight;
And by division brought
To ruine strait.

Then how can we,
A City have that's strong
Or permanent? It cannot be
What's made with hands should e're continue long.

The best is made with lime and stone, how then
Can that which is compact of such
Frail matter last? yet men
Are frailer much.

Those men that make
This City, are all cast
In moulds of Clay, and do partake
Of earth themselves: such vessels cannot last.

Nor they, nor yet their City can endure,
Many mishaps there be will end them,
To perish they are sure,
None can defend them.

Each little thing
To pieces breaks their frame,
A very wind, a breath will bring
Them to that nothing whence at first they came.

Yet whiles their worst part crumbles to the dust
And falls to ashes in their urn,
Their souls immortal must
To God return.

That God hath made
A City without hands
For them, which ne're shall fail nor fade:
Unmoveable its vast foundation stands.

A most magnificent and glorious place;
Which they that see 't can scarce see forth,
Or give it half the grace
As to its worth.

There God keeps Court,
Millions on either side
Of Saints and Angels do resort
To wait on him; this City's wondrous wide.

The least of all those many Mansions there
Our greatest Cities far transcend,
Each one's a Kingdom which shall ne're
Admit of end,

This then alone
Requires our chiefest care
In seeking it, for there is none
On earth's round ball that can with it compare.

On this lets fix our thoughts, to this aspire,
To this let all our actions tend,
Be it our sole desire
There to ascend.

For all our bliss
God hath reserv'd above,
Our happiness there seated is,
There is our Treasure, there must be our love.

James 2. 20.

Wilt thou know, O vain man, that faith without works is dead?

Heark, vain man, hark what the Apostle faith,
And do not boast so much of thy great faith;
For though 'twere able mountains to remove,
'Tis nothing worth unless it work by love;
Love is the life of it, 'tis that alone
Which quickens it, or else 'tis dead, 'tis none.
That man who breaths not at the mouth a jot,
Whose heart no motion hath, whose pulse beats not,
We say is dead; the like we may infer
Concerning faith, that's dead which doth not stir:
If it be living, 'twill be active too,
What the heart thinks, mouth speaks, the hands will do.
Let others shew their faith if that they please
Without their works, while I shew mine by these.
First my Religion shal be pure, and then
Peaceable, if it be possible, with men;
Forgiving wrongs, giving what I can spare
To those that want and in distresses are;
I wil be feet to th' lame, eyes to the blind,
Helpful to all, and unto none unkind.
If thus my faith be qualifi'd, I shall
Approve it to my self, to God, to all.

1 Peter 5. 7.

Casting all your care upon God, for he careth for you.

Come heavy souls, opprest that are,
With doubts, and fears, and carking care.
Lay all your burthens down, and see
Where's one that carried once a tree
Upon his back, and which is more.
A heavier weight, your sins he bore.
Think then how easily he can
Your sorrowes bear that's God and Man;
Think too how willing he's to take
Your care on him, who for your sake
Sweat bloody drops, pray'd, fasted, cry'd,
Was bound, scourg'd, mockt, and crucifi'd,
He that so much for you did do,
Will yet do more, and care for you.

Rev. 20. 11, 12.

And I saw a great white Throne, and him that sate on it, from whose face the Earth and the Heaven fled away, and there was found no place for them. And I saw the dead, both small and great stand before God; and the Books were opened, and another Book was opened which is the Book of Life, and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the Books, according to their works.

Had I the Art in painting like to him
Who did the day of Doom so lively limn,
That when a Heathen Prince beheld the same,
With terror struck, a Christian he became;
Thus would I set it forth unto your eye,
The Heavens should put on a sable dye,
Mask'd with the blackest vail of thickest clouds,
Which to the Sun, Moon, Stars should be as shrowds
To muffle them in one continued night,
Not once affording the least spark of light,
Hiding their heads as 'sham'd or griev'd to see
The horrid sins of men which then should be

Made manifest and naked to the world,
And the dire plagues that on them should be hurl'd.
From this sad object let your eye retire
To th'other side and see the earth on fire,
The Sea all bloud, the Throne of God on high,
Whereon he sits in glorious Majesty,
Legions of Angels him surrounding there,
Millions of men that newly raised were
Out of their Sepulchres, by his command,
To hear their final sentence trembling stand:
Below the Divels in the various shapes
Of hideous monsters, and hel's mouth wide gapes,
Casting forth flames of Sulphur and thick smoak,
Enough to blot out heaven, and earth to choak.
As soon as God hath said, Ye Cursed, go
Int' everlasting fire, the Divels lo
Are ready strait, and drag them down to hell,
Where they in torments infinite must dwell.
But since Apelles skill I want to make
This Picture right, I shall be bold to take
A Copy from the Pencil of Saint John,
As here I find it in his Vision.

I saw (saith he) a Throne both white and great
Of God Almighty, 'Twas the Judgment Seat;
Mysterious in the colour, which was white,
'Cause Justice should be innocent and bright.
Not like to Herods Throne, that was dy'd red
With blood of Infants which he massacred;
Nor sullied o're with falsehood and with wrong,
But like the milky way, clear all along.
As white for colour was this stately Throne,
So great for quantity, whereby is showne
The greatness of the Judg that thereon sits,
Past th' apprehension of the greatest wits.

For such is his immensity none can
His measure take; beyond the reach of man.
No Power then his Justice can withstand,
Whose power doth both heaven and earth command,
For earth and heaven there shall be found no place,
When he appears they both flee from his face;
His face, the sight whereof is heaven alone,
And joyes beyond imagination.
I saw, (saith he, the dead, both great and small,
Stand before God the Judg impartial;
His judgments are a great deep, into which
All fall alike, the poor, as well as rich,
The small as great; there not a cobweb lies,
Through which huge sinners like, to greater Flies,
A passage force, while lesser stick behind
As prisoners, and no way t' escape can find;
Not a net there, in which the lesser fry
Of sinners, like to fishes, may espy
Holes to slip out, whiles that the greater be
Intangled without hopes of getting free;
No, this great Judg doth smal and great convent
Before this highest Court of Parliament,
From which are no Appeals, but all must rest
Irrevocable, be they curst or blest.
There's no resisting, the stiff knee must bend,
And the stout heart from his high thoughts descend
And listen to its doom, You shall see there
Great Alexander quaking stand for fear,
He who the world once conquer'd, and did weep,
For want of more, now in a hole would creep,
And give that world which he had conquered
For one small corner in't to hide his head,
And all that wealth he got, to clear the guilt
Of all the blood which his vain glory spilt.
There shall you see that Absolom the fair,
Who hanged was in his proud dangling hair

Confounded stand, expecting when to hear
A heavier judgment thundring in his ear,
Condemning him to hang in hells hot'st fire,
'Cause to his fathers Throne he did aspire.
There shall you see King Ahab, who by's wife
Rob'd Naboth of his vineyard and his life.
And that lewd woman Jezabel his Queen
'Mongst many of her Sex shall there be seen,
And for her Witchcrafts, pride, and painting sent
To Pluto's Court to have her punishment.
There shall you see Doeg, who in pretence
Of holy vowes did work no small offence;
For by his malice he with Saul so wrought,
That more then fourscore Priests to death he brought
There shall you see the Sodomites that burn'd,
In Lust unnat'ral, and to ashes turn'd
By fire from heaven; but now the Lord shall send
A fire from hell to burn them without end.
There shall you see those three presumptuous men,
Core and his Complices appear agen,
Who for their striving against Moses, and
'Gainst Aaron too, do stigmatized stand
To all posterity; as th' earth before,
So now hell gapes to swallow them once more.
There shall you see Uzziah, though a King,
Condemned for his Incense Offering,
And taking on him the Priests function,
Whereto he had no right nor unction.
There shall you see Antiochus the Great,
Who did commit that Sacrilegious feat
In robbing of the Temple, doom'd to pains
Proportioned to his unlawful gaines.
There shall you see that glutton who did fare
Deliciously each day, and purple wear,
Suffering poor Lazarus to starve the while,
Begging himself now in an humble stile

But for a cup of water to asswage
The furous flames that on his tongue do rage;
And justly shal that tongue such torments bear,
Which pleas'd it self so much in dainty chear.
There shall you see that Phocas (who did slay
Mauritius his Master, to make way
For his Ambition to ascend the Throne)
Descend into the deepest dungeon
Of Belzebubs black Vault, perpetually
To suffer pains for his damn'd Treachery.
There you the Traitor Judas shall behold,
Who his dear Lord for thirty pieces sold.
There you shall see those Prophets that pretend
To inspiration, and uncall'd ascend
The Pulpit, venting of old Heresies
And most abominable Blasphemies,
Under the notion of new lights, these shall
To utter darkness be condemned all.
For I beheld the Bookswide opened were,
Another Book, the Book of Life was there
Laid open too, infallible Records,
Wherein were written all the deeds, and words,
And thoughts, and names of men, which shall be read
In publick then, and they be punished,
Or else rewarded with great woes and joyes,
According unto all their works and wayes.

Upon a Snake in a Garden of Flowers, having stung one that trod upon him unawares.

Who thought this Snake would e're have found
An entrance into this inclosed ground,
Or that a Serpent here should bide his head
Under this sweet and flowry bed?

But 'tis no newes, for long ago
(It was the Divels trick man to entice)
A greater Serpent made his way into
A better Garden, Paradise.

And ever since there is no place
Of pleasure which we would impropriate,
But that therein the Serpent shewes his face,
Though we discover him too late.

We see him not before we feel
That we by his envenom'd teeth are bit,
And when, Achilles like w'are hurt i'th' heel,
We seek for Balsom to cure it.

Better it were if we took heed,
How to avoid the Serpent e're he stung;
So should we feel no pain, nor medicine need,
But safely sit our flowers among.

Whiles we securely take delight,
Amidst our many sweet and fragrant flowers,
The divel Serpent turnes and doth us bite,
And with sharp pains our pleasure sowrs.

Let us look then before we leap,
And timely seek the danger to prevent,
Lest we in stead of joyes do sorrowes reap,
And when it is too late repent.

Upon Divine Love.

How strong is Love, what tongue expresse it can,
Or heart conceive, since it made God a man?
How strong is Love, which made that God-Man dye,
That man might live with God eternally?
Lord, let this love of thine my heart inspire
With love again, as sparks rise from the fire.
Thy love's a Sun, give me a beam from thence,
Which may both light and heat alike dispence,
Light to direct others the surest way
That leads to heaven and everlasting joy:

Heat to preserve in me a constant motion
Of fervent Zeal to thee, and pure devotion;
That all my thoughts, words, actions may prove
There is no passion half so strong as Love.
A passion is't? a divine vertue rather,
Which from a Deity springs, and calls God Father;
Yea, Love is God, and God is love; O then
Adore, but not profane it with thy pen!

The Eccho, or Answer of a good Conscience.

What's a good Conscience, Eccho, canst say? Ay.
Say then, and what 'tis manifest. A feast.
Where is't? i'th' Understanding wholly? O lye.
Is it then (Eccho) in my brest? My rest.
Rest? is't from pain or sin, say whether? Either.
If both, 'Tis heaven on earth, a Saints bliss. Yes.
Is't in our own or others powers? Ours.
O then a jewel 'tis, rich and bright. Right.
Then tell me how shall I come by it? Buy it.
If Gold will buy 't, Gold I'l provide. O wide.
If Gold will not, what else will do it? Do it.
Is't not enough that I believe well? Live wel.
Dos't not consist in good affections? Actions.
To get it are good works the best way? Ay.
How long must this be my endeavour? Ever.

A PASTORAL DIALOGUE Concerning the JOYES of HEAVEN, And the PAINES of HELL.

Damon. Phillis.

Phillis.
Damon , Is't true, or do they fain
Who say that we shall live again
After w' are dead?

Dam. Philis,
'Tis so,
That thou and I, and all must go
To another world, where we
In endless Joyes or Pains must be.

Phillis,
Damon, I prethee Damon tell,
How call'st thou it?

Dam.
Heaven or Hell.

Phillis.
What is Heaven, Damon? say.

Damon.
A place where all the year is May.

Where every bird doth sit and sing
Continually, as in the spring,
Where are alwaies to be seen
Flowry meadows, pastures green;
Where many springs and fountaines meet,
As Chrystal cleer, as hony sweet;
Rich flocks, whose fleeces are of gold,
And whose flesh never wil grow old,
But the Ewe is as tender there,
As the new fallen Lamb is here.
The shepherd needs not watch to keep
Either from wolfe or bear his sheep.
No beast comes there that's fierce or wild,
They are all innocent and mild;
No grief nor want amongst them found,
But all are wel, and safe, and sound.
Our Roundelayes harsh discords be
Unto their sweetest harmonie,
Beyond the musick of the spheares.
O thou wouldst wish to be all ears,
Our feasts, if we to theirs compare,
Not feasts, but rather fasts they are:
Their food so ful yet without waste,
O thou wouldst wish to be all taste.

Phil.
O happie place, be thou my guide
That I may ever there abide.
But once more Damon, prethee tell,
What is that place thou callest Hel?

Dam.
A dismal place, where is no light,
'Tis alwaies winter, alwaies night,
Where vultures feed on men, and where
The Screech owle cryeth all the year,

The ground with flames is parcht about,
Like those mount Etna sendeth out,
No flowers nor wholesome herbs are seen,
Not any that are sweet or green
Grow in that soile, which nought else breeds
But hemlock, and such poisonous weeds,
Which who so tastes, he soon goes sad,
And thorow deep despaire runs mad;
No fountain, but one standing ditch,
Whose water is as black as pitch,
Bitter as gall, so foul doth stink,
That you may smer't before you drink;
But if you drink, it poisons you,
And makes you black as it self too.
There be no sheep, but goats, whose hair
Doth like bores bristles wildely stare,
They're old and tough, and monstruous evil,
Fit meat for none, but for the divel,
Pandora's box there opened first,
Hath made the place e're since accurst
With all diseases, which do stil
Much torment cause, yet never kil;
Th' inhabitants there never dye,
But in quenchlesse fire they fry;
Their best musick is the groans
And howlings of the damned ones;
In stead of feasting on good meat,
The worm of conscience doth them eate;
Like Tantalus fruit they may see,
Yet never taste, but starved be.

Phil.
O wretched place! be thou my guide,
That I may never there abide.

Upon the peoples denying of Tythes in some places, and ejecting their Pastors.

The shepherd heretofore did keep
And watch the sheep,
Whiles they poor creatures did rejoyce
To hear his voice;
But now, they that were us'd to stray,
Do know the way.
So perfectly, that they can guide
The shepherd when he goes aside.

To pay the tenth fleece they refuse,
As shepherds dues;
They know a trick worth two of that,
They can grow fat,
And wear their fleece on their own back,
But let him lack
Meat, drink, and cloth, and every thing
Which should support and comfort bring.

What silly animals be these,
Themselves to please
With fancies, that they nothing need,
But safely feed
Without the shepherds careful eye?
When lo they die

E're they be ware being made a prey
Unto the wolfe by night and day.

Besides, they're subject to the rot,
And God knowes what
Diseases more, which they endure,
And none can cure
But the shepherds skilful hand;
In need they stand
Of his Physick and his power
To heale and help them every houre.

The danger set before their eyes,
Let them be wise,
Not trusting to their own direction,
Nor protection,
But to his rod, his staffe submit;
His Art, his wit
For every sore a salve hath found,
And wil preserve them safe and sound.

The souls wish.

O how I long to be dissolv'd, and see
This mortal put on immortalitie!
Me thinks each day's a yeer, each year's an age
Til I arrive at that most glorious stage

Of heaven, where Saints and Martyrs gazing on,
Look if I tread the same steps they have gone;
But I (like Drake) so great a compasse take
About the world, such strange Meanders make,
That they have got the goal in shorter space
Then I have been in running half my race.
So have I seen a christal streame to glide
In various windings by a meadowes side,
Making a thousand paces 'bout the shore,
Which in a strait line had not been twelve score,
O my deer God, cast down those banks of sin
That interrupt my soul from running in
An even channel to thy Sanctuary.
Ad wings unto my feet, which soon may carry,
Unto her Ark my Dove-like Spirit, blest,
By being fixt i'th' center of all rest.

Upon Christs coming to judgment.

Lord, when thou com'st to judg the world with right,
Thou'lt steale upon us like a thief i'th' night,
Or like a flash of lightning from the skie,
Or like the suddain twinkling of an eye,
Or like the pains on woman, much about
The time when once that her account is out.
O let me like to that good husband watch,
Lest that the thief me unprepared catch;
O let thy Grace be evermore my light,
That th' other lightning may not me affright.

O let mine eye be ever fixt on thee,
That thy last coming I with joy may see.
O let me cast up my accounts so well,
That I may never feel the pains of hel.

The Antipodes.

Why art so sad and sullen, O my Muse,
That now to make a verse thou dost refuse?
Must thou be mov'd by a reward to raise
Thy fancie up? Lo here's a sprig of Bayes
To make a lawrel; if that wil not do it,
Meere indignation wil create a Poet.
Art thou not angry yet at these mad times?
Canst thou forbeare to write Satyrick rhimes?
A rod is good for mad men in their fits,
'Twil them restrain, if not restore their wits;
The world is a great Bedlam, where men talke
Distractedly, and on their heads doe walk,
Treading Antipodes to all the Sages,
And sober minded of the former ages.
They were content (good souls) with slender meat,
Such as their gardens yeilded they did eate:
A sallet, bread, and water fresh that ran
From the next spring, did dine a Gentleman.
They were content (good souls) for to be clad
In skins which from the beasts backs could be had,
And so it did them from the cold defend
It was enough, they had no other end.

They were content to sit under the shade
Of their own Vine, ne're offering to invade
Their neighbours, or take arms them to oppresse,
So they their own might quietly possesse.
They were content with such instructions as
From their own Priests and Prophets mouths did passe,
And with that fear and reverence did them hear,
As though the only oracles they were:
It was the golden age of the world then,
When merit and not mony raised men.
Grace was their gold, their hearts were the rich mine
Where vertues most transparently did shine.
Faces about now, and behold the sceane
Turn'd topsie turvie, all things changed cleane,
No fare contents us, but what's fetcht from far,
And deerly bought, and cookt with curious care,
And dainty sauces; thus with art we strive
Our appetites to kil, and to revive:
We of our bellies Gods do make, and thus
Are gluttons beyond Heliogabulus.
No drink contents us, but the richest wine,
And strongest beer, which we swil in like swine,
Keeping no meane, but quaffing round about,
Til all the wine's in, and the wit is out.
No clothes content us but the richest stuffe,
And costliest die, else 'tis not gay enough;
Nay, it is nothing worth, unlesse the fashion
Come like Queen Sheba, from a forraign nation.
We change our habits like the moon, our shapes
With Proteus, and are made the Frenchmens Apes.
No living wil to us contentment yeild,
But we must stil be laying field to field,
Wishing this Lordship, purchasing that Farme;
If mony wanting be, then force of arm
Shal make it ours, or subtiltie of wit,
One way or other we wil compasse it.

No teaching now contents us the old way,
The Lay-man is inspired every day,
Can pray and preach ex tempore; he Priest
With all his learning is despil'd and hist
Out of the Church, and some have lately sed,
He should be shortly brought to beg his bread.
We've nothing of the golden age, unlesse
That Gold's our Grace, and Gaine's our godlinesse;
Not manners now, but monie makes a man,
Yea many think it makes a Christian;
As if none were religious but the rich,
And the poor body damn'd were for a witch.
Dost see my Muse the world turn'd upside down,
The Prince on foot, whiles mounted is the clown;
The beggar now a purchaser, and hee
That was worth thousands, brought to beggerie?
Dost thou behold all this, and canst be mute?
Come take thy bow and arrowes, aim and shoot
The sharpest of them, cast thy keenest dart
At this mad age, and strike it to the heart;
Come dip thy pen in vinegar and gall,
And never leave til thou hast vented all
Thy just spleen on it: if it stil grow worse,
Let it expect not thine, but Gods great curse.

To a Gentlewoman that was extremely troubled with the Tooth-ach.

I grieve and wonder so great pain
You should from one smal tooth sustaine,
That you can neither eate nor drink,
Nor all the night scarce sleep a wink;
Yet to your comfort, this I'll say,
That to hell pains 'tis but a toy,
A pleasure, if compar'd it were
To what the damned suffer there.
If in one tooth such anguish lies,
What torments from that fire arise?
This in a night or two is past,
But that doth infinitely last:
In this, one member akes, no more,
In that all members o're and o're:
In this the body doth but smart,
In that the soul too bears her part.
Think then that this is all the hell
Which you shal feele, and you are wel.

Upon a Passing Bel.

Heark how the Passing Bel
Rings out thy neighbours knel,
And thou for want of wit,
Or grate, ne're think'st on it,
Because thou yet art well.

Fool, in two dayes or three,
The same may ring for thee;
For deaths impartial dart
Wil surely hit thy heart,
He will not take a fee.

Since then he wil not spare,
See thou thy self prepare
Against that dreadful day
When thou shalt turn to clay,
This bel bids thee beware.

Upon the setting of a Clock-Larum.

O what a drowzie lump of flesh is man!
Whose life being no longer then a span,
Great part of that short span is past away
In sleep, so that 'tis hard for us to say,
Whether we live or no; for whiles that we
Repose our selves, dead to our selves we be,
Without all motion and intelligence,
Till this shril Larum quicken our dulsense,
And make us living souls to th' day arise,
Like Adam when he opened first his eyes.
Yet this sleep's short and sweet, if we compare
It to that other wherein many are
Profoundly steep'd: a spiritual sleep in sin
The major part o'th' world is drowned in;
That but the Body's nap we know to be,
This the souls everlasting Lethargy,
Unlesse God waken it; to that intent
He hath to man a treble Larum sent;
His Word first from his Prophets mouth did beat
A Parley, and from sin sound a Retreat,
Saying, Thou sleeper wake, attention give
To what I say, hear and thy soul shall live;
Let not thy sins turn day into black night,
Rise from the dead and Christ shal give thee light.
And lest this Larum should not be of force
From this dead sleep in sin to raise a Course,

He sets a second that with secret art
Besides the eare, pierceth the very heart;
His spirit it is, and when the other failes
To rouze the sleepie sinner, this prevailes.
But if his eares and heart be so fast barr'd,
That neither of these larums wil be heard,
Then sounds a third, Gods judgements powring down
Upon his head, and making it ring noone,
Flashing like lightning, ratling too like thunder,
Parting his soule and body far asunder,
Til so from sleep in sin he fal at last
To sleep in death, and in the grave is cast,
From which he shall not wake before he heare
Th' Archangels dreadful larum in his eare,
Saying, Arise ye dead, to judgment come,
And from Christs mouth receive your final doome.

Scylla and Carybdis.

Two gulfs there are 'twixt which 'tis hard to sail,
And not be shipwrackt: here prophanenesse stands
With all it's brood of vices at its tayle,
There superstition with its numerous bands

Of false traditions; 'twas the main intent
Of our late Pilots between both to steere:
But froward fate, to seamen incident,
Made them mistake their way; for whiles they fear

To sink into the gulf of superstition,
They in the gulfe of profanation fal,
And in the furious heate of opposition
'Gainst Papists, are like to turn Atheists all.

So some of th' ancient Fathers in dispute
Against one heresie, did too much bend
Unto another, and their arrow shoot
Besides the mark, thus marre what they would mend.

But cannot we keep in the middle region
Except we sink too low, or soar too high?
Is there no moderate temper in religion,
But we must either scorch'd or frozen die?

What hath the Church no habitable part,
Betwixt the torrid and the frozen Zone?
Nor hath the Churchman learnt as yet the Art
O' th' moralist, that vertue leans to none

Of the extremes, but in the center lyes?
So doth religious Truth, if we could find
It's track out; but the fault is in our eyes
That wil not see, or rather in our mind,

That wil not keep the road and safest way
Which by the best and wisest men is gone,
But rather through unbeaten deserts stray,
Which lead to nothing but confusion.

O God, be thou our Pilot once again,
Or put some Pharos up, that by the light
Our ship the Church may saile safe through the main,
And not be swallow'd by these gulfs i'th' night.

Upon Lay-mens preaching.

Art thou offended, because thou dost see
Eldad and Medad both to prophesie
Within the camp, although they came not neer
The Tabernacle, nor inabled were
Til th'instant by the Spirit? Do not say,
Moses forbid them; rather wish and pray
That all Gods people Prophets were; for so
The meekest man on earth Moses did do.
But when an Ignoramus shall professe
Himself a Prophet, and inspir'd no lesse
Then Moses or Elias, and pretend
The Spirit is on him, to no other end
Then to foment a faction, and decry
All learning in the University:
When that Mechanick fellows from their trade
Shall Aarons office offer to invade,
And mount the Pulpit, publickly expound
The Sacred Scripture, though they have no ground
For what they say, but meerly what proceeds
From spleen or fancie; so they sow their weeds
I'th' furrowes of weak hearts, which grow apace,
Choaking the good seed and the herbs of grace

Sowne by the Ministers of God before,
'Tis time, high time, that they be bid give o're,
And that with Joshua we cry, My Lord
Moses, forbid them to abuse Gods word.
But if both we and Moses silent are,
And none the madnesse of these Prophets dare
Reprove, either the simple Asse wil do't
(The vulgar sort) and spurne them with his foot,
Scorning to learn of those who nothing know,
But what they bring from shopboard or from plough,
Or else let them expect their doome to hear
From Gods own mouth (which the worst Judgment were)
These Prophets run, yet them I have not sent;
I have not spoken to them, yet they went
And prophesied deceits, even in my name;
I am against them therefore to their shame,
And wil confound all those that lies do teach;
No more (my people) do you hear such preach;
But seek the word at their mouths who are wel
Train'd up at feet of learn'd Gamaliel,
Elisha's double portion do inherit,
Being call'd both by the Church, and by the Spirit,
Who can my holy mysteries unfold,
And forth their treasures bring things new and old,
Who can confirm their truths by strength of reason,
Mercy and judgment sing, each in their season;
That can their several portions give to all,
Humble the proud, and raise up them that fall;
Have milk for babes, and meat for stronger men,
Can teach both by their preaching, and their pen;
Prune the luxuriant, prop the weaker plants,
Have fords for lambs, and depths for Elephants.
The men thus qualified, are those I send,
To such, and only such you must attend.

100

Upon the contrary effects of Tobacco in himself and his friend.

Is it not wondrous strange that there should be
Such different tempers 'twixt my friend and me?
I burn with heat when I Tobacco take,
But he on th'other side with cold doth shake;
'To both tis Physick, and like Physick works,
The cause o'th' various operation lurks
Not in Tobacco, which is stil the same,
But in the difference of our bodies frame:
What's meat to this man, poison is to that,
And what makes this man lean, makes that man sat;
What quenches ones thirst, makes another dry;
And what makes this man wel, makes that man dye.
So the same Sun we see, hardneth the clay
By his reflex, but melts the wax away;
So the same word of God doth Saul convert,
And softneth his, but hardneth Pharaoh's heart.
What ere the difference of our bodies be,
Lord let the temper of our souls agree,
That so thy Word the same effect may have
On both of us, not to condemne, but save.

101

Upon a good yeer of Corn, and a quick harvest.

Have we not had a fruitful yeer of grain,
Fair weather too to bring it in amaine?
And shall we not an offering to him pay,
Who gives us richly all things to enjoy?
Did not the heathens shew their thankfulnesse
To their Corn goddesse Ceres, and expresse
The same by sacrifices of the best?
And shal we faile our thanks to manifest
To our true God, who bears the Christian name?
O let not us fall short of them for shame!
But what wil he accept? What shal we bring?
A sheafe of wheat, or some such trivial thing?
That were but paying him in his own coyne.
A single penny out of his whole Mine;
We should present the best we can devise,
A reasonable living sacrifice,
Our souls and bodies purified from sin,
That, ô that's it which he delighteth in;
That is the Corn which Angels shal with joy
Reap, and into Gods heavenly Barne convey.

102

Upon his walking one day abroad, when sometimes the Sun shone warm, an sometimes the winde blew cold on him.

This emblem's forth the world aright,
Which now shines on me hot and bright,
Now it blowes cold on me,
But ne're wil constant be;
Tis just like the weather,
Hot and cold together.
One while it mee with many favours crownes,
Anon it stabs me with as many frownes.

Why do I then my trust put in it,
Seeing it varies every minute?
I may goe court the moon,
And stop her course, as soon
As bind the world to stay
My faithful friend a day.
If it be so inconstant, I intend
To seek out if I can, a surer friend.

But where is he? Not here below,
Where Sun doth shine, and wind doth blow,

103

But in the heaven above,
There do I fix my love
On one that changeth never,
Being the same for ever;
It is my God who is so fast a friend,
That whom he loves, he loves unto the end.

What though sometimes he seems to frowne,
And with rough winds to blow me down?
The fault's not his, but mine,
For he would alwaies shine
On me; 'tis I that change,
My sins make him look strange;
Yet under his bent brow I may discover
Some smiling glances which betray a lover,

Shewing that he desires no more,
But that I be as heretofore;
For 'tis his only aime,
To make me stil the same
To him, that he may be
The very same to me.
Lord, let me thy unchanging favour find,
I shall not need the Sun, nor fear the wind.

104

Upon a dream, that he was writing his Sermon Notes upon his naked brest that very morning that was the Anniversary of his Baptism.

That on the High Priests brest-plate there was wrote
Urim and Thummim, it was not for nought;
'Mongst other ends, some thought it did imply
Soundnesse in's doctrine, in's life sanctity.
What e're it signified, his lips we know
With learning should, his heart with grace o'reflow;
Both which present him fairer farre then all
The sparkling stones in Aarons Pectoral.
He of all Preachers surely is the best,
That writes his sermon first on his own brest;
He prints his Notes before he speaks them, who
What e're he teacheth is resolv'd to do
Himself, and thus becomes a double guide,
Doctrine on this, example on that side.
He that hath Esaus hand, and Jacobs voice,
Builds with the one, with th' other he destroyes.
Lord, thou didst first imprint thy Law within
The Tables of mans heart, and when that sin
Defaced had those characters, thou then
In stonie Tables printed'st them again;
Since they are broken, humbly I implore,
That thou wouldst write them in my heart once more,

105

Ne're to be blotted out, that so I may
Both read them, and observe them every day;
So I thy holy Vessel shall impart
A taste to others, yet within my heart
Retain a savour to my self, and so
The way I point to others I shall go:
So what Saint Paul strove for, I shal enjoy,
Having taught others, be no Cast-away:
And as thy Law is written in my mind,
So in thy Book let me not fail to find
My name inscrib'd with thine own sacred hand,
Which shall indelible for ever stand.
But why upon my Christning day this dream
Presented to my fancy? 'Twas a Theam
Fit for the day, for when the soul is made
Pure by that washing, then a ground is laid
For Gods hand-writing; 'tis like Virgin wax,
Which only his Divine Impression lacks.
My God baptize me once more with thy blood,
And since thou dost not find me, make me good.
Wash my soul clean, and that I may be knowne
To be thy Child, O seal me for thine own.

A Soliloquy upon the Circumcision, commonly called New-yeers-day.

Was't not enough that God himself became
Man like to me, and in all things the same,
Excepting sin alone; but he must be
Under the Law, and circumciz'd for me?

106

O extasie of love! which for my sake
The Son of God the Son of man did make;
Make him, an infant, shed some drops of blood,
As the first fruits to that more liberal flood
That flow'd in a ful tyde, from every part,
His hands, his feete, his side, his head, his heart;
Whereof a soveraign balme he did compound
To heale my wounds, and make my sick soul sound.
What present, O my soul, hast thou to pay
Thy God? What New-yeers gift this New-yeers day?
Give him thy self, who gave himself for thee;
A better offering there cannot be.
Do somewhat like him too, and circumcise
The foreskin of thy heart; then sacrifice
Thy purer thoughts to him, and now begin
This day to live to grace, to dye to sin.

An other upon the Resurrection, commonly called Easter day.

This day my Lord rose early from the dead,
Whiles I securely sleep in my soft bed,
Not dreaming what he did my soule to save
Which lay long dead, and buried in the grave
Of sin. Haste then my soule, and take new breath
From Christ, to raise thee from this spiritual death;
Up with the break of day, and break thy chains
Made by thy sins, and wash away thy staines
In that pure fountain which was opened wide,
And runs yet fresh out of thy Saviours side.

107

He rising left his grave clothes all behind,
Do so by thine, and banish from thy mind
All thoughts of putting them on any more,
But rise as gold refined from its ore,
Ne're to contract more drosse from earth again,
Clear and unspotted as the light remain;
So when that Christ to judg the world shall come,
Thou shalt not tremble at the day of doom,
But boldly stand before the judg, and hear
The final sentence publisht without fear;
To thy eternal comfort he shall say,
Good servant, enter thou thy Masters Joy.

A Colloquy upon the Ascension, commonly called Holy Thursday.

The Speakers. Angels, Christ, Apostles.

Angels.
Who's this from Edom comes, with garments di'd
From Bozra? Di'd in blood, which from his side

108

His deer side issued? Wast not he that late
But three dayes since was crucifi'd? What state
He marches in? The clouds his Chariot are,
And on the wings o'th' wind he rides: 'tis rare,
We ne're beheld the like unless it were
When once a fiery Chariot did bear
The Prophet hither, which we wondred at;
But this a greater wonder is then that:
That Prophet di'd not, but alive was caught
And by the power of God to heaven brought;
We saw each wheel supported by his hand,
Yea, we assisted by divine command,
By special commission being sent
To wait upon him all the way he went.
Besides, when he the Heavens mounted had
Amongst his fellow Prophets, he was glad
To take his Seat; but this man hath the grace
To sit above us all, and take his place
At Gods right hand, to him all knees do bow.

Christ.
Cease, cease your wonder and I'l tell you how
And why this is; know I am God and man;
As man I can not do't, as God I can:
As man I dy'd, and lay three dayes i'th' grave,
As God I rose again, mighty to save
My self and others from deaths greedy jawes,
From sins inthralment and the divels clawes.
I trod the wine-press of Gods wrath alone,
And of the people there was with me none.
I look'd but no man helpt, all from me fled,
Yet mine own arm mine enemies conquered
And led Captivity captive; now as King
Of Kings I come salvation for to bring
Unto my Church, and graces to powr down
Upon her, and with glories will her crown.

109

In the mean time, do you descend with speed
To comfort my Disciples at their need,
Lo at the Mount of Olives yet they stay
Still looking after me: begone, away.

Apostles.
Oh we have lost the sight of him, no more
Shall we enjoy his presence as before.
What will become of us who now are left
To the wide world, of our dear Lord bereft?
O that we had the swift wings of a Dove
To fly unto the bosome of our Love?
There we should rest securely from all harmes,
Embracing and embraced in his armes.
But what is this? behold another sight,
Two men or Angels rather, clad in white.

Angels.
Leave gazing thus ye men of Galilee.
For this same Jesus you shall shortly see
Returne again in the same manner as
You now beheld him hence to Heaven pass;
He's gone but to prepare for you a place
Against the time that you have run your race.
Leave wishing too, for wishes will not raise
You to the mansions of those endlesse joies
Where he resides: but let your thoughts all bend
In heavenly conversation to ascend,
Follow his holy steps, for so you shall
Have your Ascension, bodie, soul, and all.

Apostles.
We thank you for your counsel, and obey.
This having said, they all depart away.
Th' Angels to heaven, th' Apostles homeward went,
Expecting when the Spirit should be sent.

110

And they endu'd with power from the Lord
To save the world by preaching of the Word.

Upon all Saints day.

Such honour have all the Lords Saints, that we
Keep this day holy to their memorie;
And reason good, for they examples are
To us in life and death of vertues rare;
For though all vertues in some measure met
In all the saints as lines i' th' center, yet
Some special grace in every one did dwel,
Wherein each one the other did excel.
Thus Abram for his Faith was most renown'd,
Job for his singular Patience was crown'd;
Moses for Meeknesse did all men surpasse,
Elias for his Zeale most famous was;
David is for an Upright heart commended,
Josias for a Tender heart transcended;
John the Evangelist for Charity,
And John the Baptist for Austerity;
Saint Paul for his Humility surmounted,
When chief of sinners he himself accounted,
And least of all th' Apostles, though indeed
For pains and parts he did the rest exceed;
Peter for Penitence the prize doth bear,
Who for his sinne shed many a bitter teare:
Now as their life to us serves for a light,
So is their death most precious in Gods sight,

111

By that we learn to live, by this to die,
By both we come to immortality.
Since then they are such happy guides, wel may
We solemnize at least one annual day
Unto their honour, yet not guiltie be
Of superstition or Idolatry.
When we observe this day, we do no more
Then reverence them as Saints, not them adore.
God's the sole object of our invocation,
They but the pattern for our imitation;
And 'tis our prayer alwaies on this day,
That we their godly living follow may,
Til we with them at last come to partake
Of joyes unspeakable for Christ his sake;
Whiles thus we celebrate this festival,
None can us justly superstitious cal.

To Christ.

A Poem of Hugo Grot. Sil. lib. 1. p. 10. Translated.

O Christ, which art the head of every thing,
From whom a better life then this doth spring;
Thy Fathers measure yet unmeasured,
Whom (whiles that he himself contemplated
In his high mind) he streams forth light of light,
And sees himself in's equal image bright;
Like whom the world, and the worlds guardian, man,
Was made: but O, he suddainly began

112

To be rebellious, his high honour lost,
And prest with crimes (which him most deerly cost)
Becoming guilty of the greatest pain,
In this state lay, and had for ever laine,
But that thy Father his case pitying, did
Give thee, who with himself before wast hid
Under concealed light; eternal love
Unto his Church did bim to mercy move.
His truth by dreams he wil reveal no more,
Nor visions by his Prophets as before;
But willing now a living Law to make,
And lasting league with men; lo thou didst take
A mortal body, and a man-like face,
Yet not begot the way of humane race
By filthy lust, but thou conceived wast
By power divine born of a Virgin chaste;
Though thou no purple hadst to cloth thee, then
Being newly born, nor bands of armed men
To compasse thee about and be thy guard,
Yet Citizens of heaven keep watch and ward,
And divine Anthems sang about thy stal
More royal thus then any Princes Hall.
The beasts and shepherds thee incircled there,
Poor, but far happier then all Kings they were
In that they knew thee; thou a new come guest
Wert by thy heaven to earth made manifest.
The Magi stood amaz'd, a starre to see
Ne're seen before; how great (say they) is he
That's born, to honour whom new stars appear?
Yee fierie signes of heaven your light forbear,
Forbeare ye wandring stars, and Charls his Wayne
To guide the Passengers upon the Maine,
For through the various waves of things below
And life's uncertainties, this Star doth show
The way, not that which unto Babylon brings,
Proud in the Courts of her Arsacian Kings,

113

Nor to the Palaces of Tibur stout,
Nor to Jerusalem's turrets, but points out
The Cottages of Bethlehem, and the door
Of shepherds tents; Jewes seek your King no more
Amongst the Cornets and the Trumpets sound,
And th' Arms wherewith mans furie doth surround
Himself; ye know not, wretches as ye be,
How neer a thing to heaven is povertie,
How sweet to suffer; tel the Parthians now,
Goe tel the Romans, tel your Herod how
Hee'll make the blind to see, the lame to walk,
Hee'll make the deaf to hear, the dumb to talke,
Hee'll heal all plagues and sicknesses with ease,
By's word not herbs, and calm the raging seas.
Thousands he wil with little food sustain,
Himself long time with none, and raise again
The dead, make water wine at his command,
And walk upon the sea as on dry land.
Let them whom jewels deck, let Martial men
Try if they can perform the like again;
These my poor Christ can doe, nor doth he cure
Bodies alone, but minds of men make pure,
Purges their brests that are possest with sin,
And heals the plague-sick world which we live in.
Thus a right way he takes, whiles those that stand
And mightie are, he puls down with his hand;
Those that are weak and fallen he erects.
But look what stirrs i'th' heavens; What strange aspects
And strife of things; Whiles so great good in thee
Is recompenc'd with hateful crueltie;
Not by the Sythian, or the barbarous men
Of Affrick, or the north Pole Citizen,
But by good Abrahams off-spring, who alone
Of all the nations was thy chosen one.
Such mischiefe black ambition can do,
Whiles't being incens'd with pride and hatred too

114

It rages under faigned piety;
A simple fate thou didst not perish by,
But as a thief thou di'dst, though innocent,
To undergoe our sin and punishment.
The sins of all the world did lye on thee
Since Adam ate of the forbidden tree;
From that first hour to this they prest thee all;
On us those bonds, on us those blowes should fall.
Those sharp black thorns should prick our temple veins
The Sergeant should us drag to endlesse pains;
The nails should pierce our hands, the spear our side,
And we without delay be crucified:
But so it did thy Father please, and Thee,
To mingle Mercy with Severity.

Boet. Met. 4. l. 1. Translated.

He that lives quiet in a setled state,
And treads below his feet high minded fate,
That either fortune upright can behold
With an undaunted face, and courage bold;
Not all the raging threats o' th' sea, nor yet
Vesuvius smoaking fires, when ere they get
Out of their broken Chimneys, nor the bright
Flashes of lightning which are us'd to smite
The highest Towers, til to ground they fall,
Can move this man, or trouble him at all.
Why doe men so much Tyrants rage admire,
Since they want strength unto their fierce desire?

115

Hope for no good from them, and fear no harm,
So you their feeble anger shal disarme.
But he whose fears are great, or hopes are bent
To what is not his right, nor permanent,
His Buckler casts away, his ground he leaves,
And to enthral himself a chaine he weaves.

The 5. Met. of the second book.

The former age, but too much blest
With fruitful fields, content did rest
Not with dul luxury, yet lost
Their hunger, staid with little cost;
A slender Chessnut them suffil'd,
They had not yet the way devis'd
To mix live hony with their wine,
Nor were they grown so proudly fine
In their apparel, as to staine
White fleeces in a purple graine.
On Sallets sup'd, sweet sleep they took,
And drink had from the running brook;
The lofty Pine was then their shade,
Not yet through deep seas did they wade;
Strange coasts the Merchant had not sought
For wares far fetch'd and deerly bought;
Then the shril trumpets did not sound,
Nor bitter hatreds then were found
To die their horrid arms with blood;
For how could fury think it good,

116

First to make War, when it could see
Nothing but deadly wounds to be
The pay of blood-shed? O that now
Our much corrupted times knew how
From their ill customes to return
To th' ancient manners; but they burn
With love of gain, which is so great
It puts down Ætna's fires for heat.
Alas, who was't that first made bold
To dig those precious Perils, Gold
And richer Jewels, which would fain
Concealed from our sight have layne?

Upon the Right Reverend, And most Learned Dr. PRIDEAUX, late Bishop of Worcester.

Since Prideaux dy'd, farewel the Muses nine,
Farewel all Learning humane and divine;
For why should we pretend to any part
Of Science, when the Genius of all Art
Lies dead and buryed? Now to make a verse,
And think therewith to deck his golden Hearse,
Were like a boy t' a Generals grave that runs,
And shoots off squibs in stead of greater guns,
To solemnize his Funeral; 'twould he thought
Done in a jeer, and he be whipt if caught.

117

Alas we cannot speak his praise, for death
E're since it rob'd his body of his breath,
Hath left us speechless, all tongues were his own,
All learned Languages to him were known.
He with deep judgment had more Authors read
Then others Indexes, and might be sed
To be a living Library, admir'd
By this last age, and by the next desir'd.
The University is in despair
To find a Successor like him i'th' chair;
His clear decisions he delivered there,
As Oracles divine received were:
His Arguments and Answers would admit
Of no Replies, so home, so sure they hit,
Preferment he ne're sought, it sought him rather,
First he a Doctor was, and then a Father
Of this our Church; we justly mourn his fall
Who was a Bishop Oecumenical.
His Diocess of Knowledg was so vast,
That throughout all the Universe it past;
Betwixt the Puritane and Papist he
Like a strong Rock fast fixt was in his see,
Against both Factions he did upright stand
Inclining not a jot to either hand;
But a sound Protestant he liv'd and dy'd,
One of the Learnedst e're was of our side.
They that lov'd Learning and a Scholers name
Raise Pyramids to his immortal fame.

118

To his much honoured Friend and Kinsman, Sr E. B.

Were I to draw Griefs picture to the life,
I'd take't from you now mourning for your wife:
Armes folded, fixed eyes, and full of tears,
Repeated sighes, neglected cloaths and hairs,
Pale face, no words but what are pumpt by force,
Small difference is betwixt you and a corse.
Sure 'tis not you, but your Ghost, come to tell
How much you lov'd your Lady, and how wel,
That having but one soul between you two,
She being gone, you had no more to do
But vanish strait; such power hath love to make
An husband pine away for his wifes sake;
Yet all this but of grief's the outward part,
I cannot limn the sorrow of your heart,
Nor can I see, nor can you shew the pain
And anguish which you inwardly sustain.
Only I can imagine that a flood
Runs from the red sea of your own heart-blood,
That every time a tear falls from your eye,
A crimson drop followes it instantly;
That every sigh, like to an hollow wind,
Doth but presage a sanguine showres behind;
That to your best beloved fain you wou'd
Swim through both rivers of your tears and blood.
But stay a little, whiles the furious tide
Of your swoln sorrow flowes on every side,

119

T' oppose it, were the next way to be drown'd;
But when it ebbs you may behold dry ground,
And walk securely through that sea to th' shoar
In which you might have been o'rewhelm'd before.
Heark then, your Lady calls to you from far,
And prayes you turn your grief for her, to care
Of your deer children, that, as Poets fain,
Minerva was the issue of Joves brain
Without a mother's help, so they may prove
The issue of your mind as of your love;
Thus for their being and their breeding too,
They'l owe a double duty unto you.

To his truly honoured Lady, the Lady R.

Madam , Though you have many changes seen,
Yet y'are the same as you have alwayes been;
Times work no more on you then upon heav'n,
In all estates y'are so serene and even;
Surely Copernicus opinion's true,
The earth's the only thing that moves, and you
As being of an heavenly constitution,
Unshaken stand in all this revolution
Both in the Church and State; with you it fares
As with the Angels or the fixed Stars,
Which give their light and influence to men,
Yet are not soiled with their ills agen.
You are as good and vertuous, nay more
Religious since those times then e're before;
For though that most grow worse by imitation
Of th' Epidemick sins, are now in fashion,

120

'Tis contrary with you, who do detest
All sin the more, the more it is profest;
And as when heat's with cold environ'd, 'tis
Hotter by the Antiperistasis;
Just so your Piety by opposition
Of others wickedness, receives addition.
And may it still to that degree proceed;
That you may never more perfection need.

To the noble Lady, and to him much endeered, the Lady M. T.

We envy Shropshire now, since it of late
Doth you impropriate,
Not letting us have the least share in you,
To whom a part is due.
We wish your Buckland house a Palace were
That we might see you there;
For since the time that you went hence away,
We not our selves enjoy.
In losing you we lose our better part,
And now we have no heart.
Or quick'n us with your presence as before.
Or else we languish, and can live no more,

121

To the no less honoured Lady, the Lady P.

Somewhat I owe unto your honoured Name,
But cannot pay it, yet you may not blame
The Poet, but your self, as cause of it,
Since that your worth is far above his wit,
And either you below your self must fall,
Or else want his Encomium; for all
That he may say or write in your just praise
Will but eclipse your Sun and cloud its raies.
'Tis true, he knowes you not (which is his grief)
But by report, and that hath made you chief
Of all your Sexe; within your Hemisphere
There's none in competition will appear,
Your vertues raise you to so high a state,
They may admire but hardly imitate.
You need not blush, as if this were too high;
To write the Truth, I hope's no flatterie.
Now (Madam) if you please to cast a look,
Or spend some spare time on this little Book,
And in it any thing that's good do view,
Then challenge it, for it belongs to you;
What's vain or worthless in it that decline
And pass it by I challenge that for mine.

122

To the eminent Scholer, and Honor of our Church, Dr. Hammond.

Although the times forbid you now to preach
In publick, yet your learned Writings teach
Us how to live in these unhappy daies,
How we should upright walk in slipperie waies.
You are our Oedipus, and do untie
The knottiest points in all Divinitie.
Such is the power of your judicious pen,
It stops the mouthes of all gainsaying men;
The Presbyter is routed and undone,
He flies the field since you the day have won.
At last your greatest Work you have put forth,
But I'm not able to express its worth,
So excellent it is, and like good wine
Commends it self, it needs no bush of mine.
Go on t' instruct the world, and with your light
Shine out to guide us in the darkest night
Of ignorance and Error, which will soon
(Unless prevented) make us grope at noon.

123

To the truly vertuous, and his most esteemed Cousin, Mrs. M. B.

A learned woman and an humble too
May for a Miracle amongst us go.
She's Mistris of all Arts, and of one more,
To shew so little of so great a store;
That woman which hath more then common worth
Seldom wants tongue enough to set it forth;
But she that knowes much with Sobrietie,
Is somewhat like unto the Deitie
Veild o're with humane flesh, which seems to be
God manifested, yet a Mysterie.
Much more she is indeed, then she'l appear,
Her inside's Velvet when her outside's hair.
Like to a vessel full of precious wine,
Or like unto a rich concealed Mine;
The vessel makes no noise, but pierce it, then
It liquor yeilds that chears the heart of men;
The Mine conceal'd, though rich, no profit brings
But once discovered is a prize for Kings.
A miracle, a Mistris of all Arts.
A mysterie made up of all choice parts,
A vessel fil'd with Nectar, a rich Mine,
All these you are, though you all these decline.
And make your self more then your self to be
By letting us not half your merits see.
Thus Jacobs Vision is made good to you,
When e're you sleep, you may the Ladder view.

124

Reaching from earth to heaven, made without bands;
At foot whereof Humility there stands,
Knowledg above upon the highest round,
All other Graces like the Angels found
Ascending and descending up and down,
To court you here a while, and there you crown.
This makes us somewhat jealous, and to fear
Lest by this Ladder they attempt to bear
You soon to heaven, and leave us in the night
Of ignorance when we have lost our light.
Stand still in our Horizon then, we pray,
Like Joshuahs Sun, and double make our day;
For you impart a greater influence here
Then when you shall be fixt i'th' highest Spheer.

125

To the Right Honourable, the Lady M. C.

Wealth, Honour, Vertue once combin'd
To make one perfect of the female kind,
At length they met with you, and did protest
To go no further, but set up their rest
Within your armes: those now that mean to share
In them, must borrow what you please to spare:
You superrogate, and there doth lye
Such store of them in your rich Treasurie,
That you may well afford so much as will
Some meaner persons in good measure fill.
The after droppings of a Catarackt
Will raise the lesser brooks that water lack't,
The gleanings of your Vintage will go neer
To make small Vessels run o're once a year,
Thus unto others you enough may give,
Yet in all fulness you your self may live.

126

Upon his losing his way in a mist.

I thought I could not go a stray,
So perfectly I knew the way:
Yet in a Mist I miss'd it, and
Err'd now on this, now on that hand,
And till the fog was by the Sun
Dispell'd, I in a maze did run
And ride as if 'twere Fairie ground,
Or that the Puck had led me round;
So whiles I want a heavenly light
The day's to me as dark as night,
Which way I go I cannot tell,
Whether it be towards heaven or hell;
But this I know, that there is odds,
I tread the divels track, not Gods;
For Gods way strait and narrow is,
The divels broad and hard to miss.
O Sun of Righteousness then shine,
And soon disperse this mist of mine,
Lighten the darkness of my mind,
That I the way to heaven may find.

127

To two Parties going to Law about small matters.

Look how the steel forceth with several knocks,
Fire from the flint into the Tinder-box,
So do you smite each other, till you force
Gold from your own into the Lawyers purse.
O how like foes they brawle on either side,
And yet like friends your money they divide,
Leaving you bare as an Anatomy.
All that you get you may put in your eye,
And never see the worse; then take from me
This Counsel freely, and without a fee,
Agree between your selves, and make an end,
Do you to him, he to you condescend.
Thus whiles you both unto each other yeild,
You'l both o'recome, and losing win the field.

128

To an envious and malicious person.

Why envi'st thou thy Neighbour, canst thou tel?
Is't 'cause in Wealth or worth he doth excel?
That will not make thee richer then thou art,
Nor him the poorer, but twill vex thy heart;
That will not make thee better, nor him worse,
But blessing bring on him, on thee a curse.
Or why malignest thou thine enemy?
Is't 'cause he hath done thee some injury?
That will not mend the matter, but incense
Him to a second and more high offence,
Adding of wrong to wrong. O then be wise,
And do him all the good thou canst devise,
So on his head thou shalt heap coals of fire,
And softly melt his heart to thy desire.
So maist thou make thy foe to be thy friend,
And whom thou canst not break, thus gently bend.

129

To the common Drunkard, falsely called a Good Fellow.

Cannot friends meet but they must drink t'excess?
Must all your mirth conclude in drunkenness?
Accurst be he brought it in fashion first;
Before ye were content to quench your thirst,
And not exceed three or four cups at most;
Now you carouse till all your reasons lost,
And like to overheated Dutch men, yee
Drink till ye fight, and fall to snicker snee.
He that invites his friend t'a drunken feast,
Keeps out the man and entertains the beast:
A feast 'tis not, but a base Bacchanal,
Where the beast man a Sacrifice doth fall.
Worse then a beast he is, for no beast will
Be made to drink a drop more then his fill.
But man his belly makes a tun, his brain
A bog, and drinks till up it comes again.
Vile man, whom God next t' Angels did create,
Below a Bruit thus to degenerate!
For shame give o're this most unmanlike sin,
Which too long hath thy daily practise bin,
Redeem thine honour drown'd in Ale and Wine,
And thy soul settled on the Lees refine:
When thy debauched life thou shalt correct,
Thou happier daies in England maist expect.

130

Upon an old man holding an Infant between his arms of his own begetting.

Here Natures contradiction behold,
The extremity of Ages, young and old,
The two first Books of Moses, Genesis
And Exodus bound up together 'tis,
May sitting in Decembers lap, the Spring
With Autumn joyn'd together in a ring.
Youth in the bud new started from the womb,
Shakes hands with age now dropping in the Tomb,
The worlds beginning and the end together,
The day and night, Sunshine and rainy weather,
Nonage and dotage, generation
Met with corruption, and the Creation
O'th' child the dissolution proves to be
O'th' father, who destroy'd himself whiles be
Begets a son, and like the Phœnix, from
His dust and ashes doth another come.

131

To one that married a very rich, but a very deformed woman.

Who is't that sayes it was not love
Which you unto this match did move?
'Twas love, but love of money sure,
That thus to wed did you allure;
'Twas not the beauty which doth lye
In your wives cheek, or lip, or eye,
Or any other part that shines,
Save only in her golden Mines.
It were the Angels in her chest
That first made love within your brest,
There sit the Cupids, there the Graces
Reside in those red and white faces.
In having one wife you have many,
Each bag a wife is, how then can ye
Chuse but be rich? for such as these
Being put to use will soon increase,
Nor will their beauty fade, for th'are
At fifty more then fifteen fair,
As pure good mettal, as refin'd
An age hence, as when they were coin'd,
Provided you keep them in bands
From falling into hucksters hands.
If Pleasure be not, Profit's in
Your match, Poligamy's no sin.
In a free State you may be bold
To marry every piece of Gold;

132

Though they so numerous be as will
The Great Turks vast Seraglio fill.
Yet take my counsel, look well to them,
For many chances will undo them;
They may be call'd in by the State,
And valued at a lower rate;
They may be rounded and defaced,
Or with worse mettal be debased;
They may perhaps suffer a rape,
Be plundred from you; should they scape
These Accidents, yet wings have they
Like Cupid, and will flee away,
Leaving you little else behind
But your sad choise and sadder mind:
For when your money's gone, your wife
Will stay to vex you all your life.

133

His opinion concerning disputations in the Country, where the Major part of the Auditory are Illiterate persons.

'Tis seldome seen a popular dispute
Doth any good; you may perhaps confute
But not convert a heretick; he wil,
Say what you can, hold fast his errour stil.
Besides, the vulgar Auditors do weigh
All arguments as their affections sway,
Not as their reason, and think that the best
Which with most noise and eagernesse is prest;
So they adhere unto the worser side,
Or go away much more unsatisfi'd
Then they came there, like some young Conjurers spel,
Raising more divels up, then he can quel
Or lay again; like Bees, the common rout
Wil swarme about your ears and buzze you out,
But humme the Factions up, and lowdly cry
On your Antagonists side, Victory.
Forbear then such disputes henceforth to move,
For fear they should the Churches ruine prove;
These points are fitter for the Press or Schooles.
It is the best way not to answer fools
According to their folly, which wil rise
Higher by opposing, let alone it dies.

134

Upon his late Ague, or the new Feaver, as it was call'd.

What a strange thing's this Ague? which doth make
Me like an earthquake first with cold to shake;
Then like mount Etna burn with fervent heat,
And by and by dissolve into a sweat?
Sure 'tis some Cacodamon, by his art
Insinuating himselfe in every part;
Now in the head, then in the back it lies,
Sometimes i'th' stomack, sometimes in the thighs,
Now like a Souldier whom nothing can stay,
He sets upon me boldly at midday;
Then like a thief steals on me late at night,
Or early e're th'approach o'th' morning light.
Shame of Physicians 'tis, for all their tribe
Cannot a certain remedie prescribe.
Faustus or some such Conjurer would be
The better Doctor in this cure, for he
Might by his magick charms perhaps expel
This freezing, burning, sweating spirit of hel.
If then it wil no other way be gone,
I wil turne Conjurer, but an holy one,
And with my prayers to heaven exorcise
This evil spirit thus; Let God arise
With healing in his wings, and first begin
To heal my souls disease and sicknesse, sin,
Then let this great Physician apply
A salve to cure my bodies malady;

135

Thou that didst legion with a word expel,
But speak the word, thy servant shal be wel.

The Accident.

Was it by negligence, or accident,
That in my sicknesse as my servant went
To warme my bed, some ashes she let fall?
Neither perhaps, but 'twas prophetical,
Foretelling that I must to ashes turn,
And shortly be inclosed in my urne.
And if that providence hath so decreed,
Welcome i'th' name of God, let Death succeed
His elder brother, Sleep, and then give way
To Life again, such as the saints enjoy.
Now on my grave I think, and yet not quake,
Since thence as from my bed I shal awake;
When I lie down in dust I doe not die,
But take a nap, and rise t' eternity;
My soul shall reassume it's dust again,
And in a blessed union stil remain.

136

Upon his Recovery from his Ague.

What shal I render unto thee my God?
Since thou hast with thy rod
In measure me corrected, to prevent
A sharper punishment,
That I may not condemned be at last,
And in the lake of fire and brimstone cast?

Seven violent fits I had, to shew that I
Am mortal, and must die:
But then such was thy wil, I had no more,
Thou Lord didst me restore
To health, and having brought me neer the grave,
Declaredst then thy mighty power to save.

How much thy mercy doth thy justice passe?
A sinful man I was,
Seven times a day I have offended thee,
Yet thou forgavest me;
Yea though my sins exceed the stars of heaven,
Yet thou my plagues reduced hast to seven.

Alas, all seven doe scarce to one amount;
Justly I cannot count
Them altogether half a plague, they goe
But for a stroak or so,

137

And only serve to let me understand
They come not from a judg, but fathers hand.

A wise and tender father that doth smite
In mercy not in spite,
Not to avenge himself, but me t' amend,
Which is the chiefest end
In all his chastisements: he wil not break
The bruised reed, not quite o'rethrow the weak.

But having humbled him, most gently then
Raiseth him up again.
O Lord, do so by me, and shew thy strength
In my weak state at length,
That like a Tree on both sides rock't by th'wind,
I may grow strong in body and in mind.

Stronger in both to serve thee, and to give
Thee thanks that yet I live;
And let me use this my recovered health,
Not to increase my wealth,
Or spend it on my lust, as is mens fashion,
But to thy glory and mine own salvation.

138

Upon a great showre of snow that fel on May day, 1654.

You that are weather-wise, and pretend to know
Long time before when it wil rain or snow,
When 't wil be faire or foul, when hot or cold,
Here stand and gaze a while, I dare be bold
To say, you never saw the like; nay more,
You never heard the like of this before.
Since Snow in May, you may hereafter make
A famous Epoch in your Almanack.
Prodigious 'tis, and I begin to fear
We have mistook the season of the yeer;
'Tis Winter yet, and this is Christmas day,
Which we indeed miscal the first of May.
Summer and winter now confounded be,
And we no difference betwixt them see,
Only the Trees are blossomed, and so
The Glassonbury Hawthorn us'd to doe,
Upon the day of Christs nativity,
As Cambden tels in his Chorography.
The youths for cold creep in the Chimneys end,
Who formerly the day did sprightly spend
In merry May-games; now they hang the head
And droop, as if they and their sports were dead.
Perhaps some superstitious Cavalier,
That lov'd to keep his Christmas, wil go near

139

To make an ill interpretation
Of this, and cast a judgment on the nation
For our despising of that time and season
Against the ancient custome and right reason,
As he conceives, and since wee'l not allow
One in December w' have a Christmas now.
But wee a better use may make of it;
And though not to our minds the Weather fit,
Yet to our souls convert the same, and thence
Extract this wholesome holy inference.
From this unseasonable change of weather
Without us, what's within us we may gather;
When in our hearts the Summer should begin,
And graces grow, 'tis Winter by our sin,
All frost and snow, nothing comes up that's good,
The fruits o'th' Spirit nipt are in the bud.
Our May's turn'd to December, and our Sun
Declines before he half his course hath run,
O thou the Sun of Righteousnesse display
Thy beams of mercy, make it once more May
Within our soules, let it shine warm and clear,
Producing in us yet a fruitful year.
Let it dissolve our snow into a showre
Of hot and penitent tears, which may procure
A blessing on the Nation, and at last
A General pardon for all faults are past.

140

The Conclusion. To my dread Soveraigne And deer Master, Christ Jesus, King of Kings.

Thou King of Kings, and Lord of Lords,
I owe my self and all I have to Thee,
My Muse no tribute now affords,
But what first comes from thine own Treasurie,
A leafe of praise
Is all that I can raise.

And yet that leafe is taken from
Thy Tree of grace thou graftedst in my heart,
Accept it then, since it doth come
From that stock which to me thou didst imparr;
It is thine own,
To all the world be't known.

I do confesse the ground in which
'Tis set, is poor, and long hath barren been,

141

For how alas, could it be rich,
When nought but thorns and thistles grew therein?
O let thy grace
Above my sins take place,

And in my heart the upper hand
Let it stil have, a happy victorie,
That I thy Champion may stand
Undaunted 'gainst all that opposeth thee:
So whiles I live,
I shall thee praises give.

Or if whiles in this Vale I stay,
To praise thee well wil be too hard a thing,
Then to thy holy hil convey
My soul, where I may Hallelujahs sing
In an higher
And better tuned Quire.

FINIS.