Divine poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Once more, when heavēs harmonious queristers
Appear'd before his Throne, (whose Ministers
They are, of his concealed will) to render
Their strict account of Iustice, and to tender
Th'accepted Sacrifice of highest praise,
(Warbled in Sonnets and celestiall Layes)
Satan came too, bold, as a hungry Fox,
Or ravinous Wolfe amid the tender Flockes,

188

Satan, (said then th'Eternall) from whence now
Hath thy imployments driven thee? whence com'st thou?
Satan replies: Great God of heavē & earth,
I come from tempting, and from making mirth:
To heare thy dearest children whine, and roare:
In briefe, I come, from whence I came before.
Said then th'Eternall, Hast thou not beheld
My servants Faith, how, like a seven-fold shield,
It hath defended his integrity
Against thy fiery Darts? Hath not thine Eye,
(Thine envious eye) perceiv'd how purely just
He stands, and perfect, worthy of the trust
I lent into his hand, persisting still
Iust, fearing God, eschewing what is ill?
'Twas not the losse of his so faire of a Flock,
Nor sudden rape of such a mighty Stock;
'Twas neither losse of Servants, nor his Sonnes
Vntimely slaughter, (acted all at once)
Could make him quaile, or warpe so true a Faith,
Or staine so pure a Love; say (Satan) hath
Thy hand (so deepely counterfeiting mine)
Made him mistrust his God, or once repine?
Can there in all the earth, say, can there be
A man so Perfect, and so Iust, as He?
Replyes the Tempter, Lord, an outward losse
Hopes for repaire, it's but a common crosse:
I know thy servant's wise, a wise forecast,
Grieves for things present, not for things are past;
Perchance the tumour of his sullen heart,
Brookes losse of all, since he hath lost a part;
My selfe have Servants, who can make true boast,
They gave away as much, as he hath lost:
Others (which learning made so wisely mad)
Refuse such Fortunes, as he never had;

189

A Faith's not try'd by this uncertaine Tuch,
Others, that never knew thee, did as much:
Lend mee thy Power then, that I might once
But Sacrifice his Flesh, afflict his Bones,
And pierce his Hide, but for a moments space,
Thy Darling then would curse thee to thy Face:

To which, th'Eternall thus: His body's thine,
To plague thy fill, withall I doe confine
Thy power to her lists: Afflict and teare
His flesh at pleasure: But his life forbeare.

Meditat. 4.

Both Goods, and body too; Lord, who can stand?
Expect not Iobs uprightnesse, at my hand,
Without Iobs aid; The temper of my Passion,
(Vntam'd by thee) can brooke no Iobs Temptation,
For I am weake, and fraile, and what I can
Most boast of, proves me but a sinfull man;
Things that I should avoid, I doe; and what
I am in joyn'd to doe, that doe I not.
My Flesh is weake, too strong in this, alone,
It rules my spirit, that should be rul'd by none
But thee; my spirit's faint, and hath beene never
Free from the fits of sins quotidian Fever.
My pow'rs are all corrupt, corrupt my Will,
Marble to good, and Waxe to what is ill;
Eclipsed is my reason, and my Wit;
By interposing Earth 'twixt Heaven, and it:
My mem'ri's like a Scarce of Lawne (alas)
It keepes things grosse, and lets the purer passe.

190

What have I then to boast, What Title can
I challenge more than this, A sinfull man?
Yet doe I sometimes feele a warme desire,
Raise my low Thoughs, and dull affections higher
Where, like a soule entranc't, my spirit flies,
Makes leagues with Angels, and brings Deities
Halfe way to heaven, shakes hands with Seraphims
And boldly mingles wings with Cherubims,
Frem whence, I looke askauns adowne the earth,
Pity my selfe, and loath my place of birth:
But while I thus my lower state deplore,
I wake, and prove the wretch I was before.

Even as the Needle, that directs the howre,
(Toucht with the Loadstone) by the secret power
Of hidden Nature, points upon the Pole;
Even so the wav'ring powers of my soule,
Toucht by the vertue of thy Spirit, flee
From what is Earth, and point alone to Thee.
When I have faith, to hold thee by the Hand,
I walke securely, and me thinkes I stand
More firme than Atlas; But when I forsake
The safe protection of thine Arme, I quake
Like wind-shakt Reeds, and have no strength at all,
But (as a Vine, the Prop cut downe) I fall.
Yet wretched I, when as thy Iustice lends
Thy glorious Presence from me) straight am friends
With Flesh and blood, forget thy Grace, flye frō it,
And, like a Dog, returne unto my vomit;
The fawning world to pleasure then invites
My wandring eyes; The flesh presents delights
Vnto my yeelding heart, which thinke those pleasures,
Are onely bus'nes now, and rarest treasures,
Content can glory in, whilst I, secure,
Stoope to the painted plumes of Satans Lure:

191

Thus I captiv'd, and drunke with pleasures Wine,
Like to a mad-man, thinke no state like mine,

What have I then to boast, what title can
I challenge more than this, A sinfull man?
I feele my griefe enough, nor can I be
Redrest by any, but (Great God) by thee.
Too great thou art to come within my Roofe,
Say but the word, Be whole, and 'tis enough;
Till then, my tongue shall never cease, mine Eyes
We're cloze, my lowly bended knees ne're rise;
Till then my soule shall ne're want early sobs,
My cheekes no teares, my Pensive brest no throbs,
My hart shall lack no zeale, nor tongue expressing,
I'le strive like Jacob till I get my Blessing:

Say then, Be cleane, I'le never stop till then,
Heaven ne'r shall rest, till Heaven shal say, Amen