Divine poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Pilot thumps on Ionah's brest,
And rowzeth Ionah from his rest:
They all cast Lotts, (being sore afrighted)
The sacred Lott on Ionah lighted.

The amazed Pilot finding no successe,
(But that the storme grew rather more than lesse,

For all their toilsome paines, and needlesse praiers,
Despairing both of life, and goods) repaires
To Ionahs drowsie Cabbin; mainly cals;
Cals Ionah, Ionah; and yet lowder yawles;
Yet Ionah sleepes; and gives a shrug, or two,
And snores, (as greedy sleepers use to doe.)
The wofull Pylot jogs him, (but in vaine.)
(Perchance he dreames an idle word, or twaine;)
At length he tugs and puls his heavy coarse,
And thunders on his brest, with all his force:
But (after many yawnes) he did awake him,
And (being both affrighted) thus bespake him:

“Arise, O Sleeper; O arise and see,
“There's not a twiny thred'twixt death, and thee:
“This darkesome place (thou measur'st) is thy grave,
“And sudden Death rides proud on yonder wave;
“Arise, O sleeper, O arise, and pray;
“Perhaps thy God will heare, and not say, Nay:
“Repaire the losse of these our ill spent houres,
“Perchance thy God's more powerfull than ours;
“Heavens hand may cease, and have compassion on us,
“And turne away this mischiefe it hath done us.

The sturdy Saylors (weary of their paine)
Finding their bootlosse labour lost, and vaine,
Forbare their toilesome task and wrought no more,
Expecting Death, for which they lookt before;
They call a parley, and consult together,
They count their sinnes, (accusing one another)
That for his sinne, or his, this ill was wrought:
In fine, they all proove guilty of the fault:
But yet the question was not ended so:
One sayes, 'Twas thine offence; but he sayes, No,
But 'twas for thy sake, that accuses me;
Rusht forth a third (the worser of the three)

And swore it was another, which (he hearing)
Deny'd it slat, and said, 'Twas thine for swearing:
In came a fift, accusing all; (replying
But little else) they all chid him for lying;
One said it was, another said 'twas not:
So all agreed, to stint the strife by Lott:
Then all was whist, and all to prayer went;
(For such a bus'nesse a fit complement)
The Lott was cast; t'pleas'd God by Lots to tell,
The Lott was cast; the Lott on Ionah fell,

Medita. 3.

O sacred subject of a Meditation!
Thy Workes (O Lord) are full of Admiration,
Thy judgements all are just, severe, and sure,
They quite cut off or else by lancing, cure
The festring sore of a rebellious heart,
Lest soule infection taint th'immortall part.
How deepe a Lethargy doth this disease
Bring to the slumbring soule, through carelesse ease!
Which once being wak't, (as from a golden dreame)
Lookes up, and sees her griefes the more extreme.
How seeming sweet's the quiet sleepe of sin?
Which when a wretched man's once nuzzled in,
How soundly sleepes he, without feare, or wit?
No sooner doe his armes infolded knit
A drowzy knot upon his carelesse brest,
But there he snorts, and snores in endlesse rest;
His eyes are closed fast, and deafe his eares,
And (like Endymion) sleepes himselfe in yeares;
His sense-bound heart relents not at the voice
Of gentle warning, neither does the noise

Of strong reproofe awake his sleeping eare,
Nor louder threatnings thunder makes him heare;
So deafe's the sinners eare, so numb'd his sense,
That sinne's no corrosive, breeds no offence;
For custome brings delight, deludes the heart,
Beguiles the sense, and takes away the smart.

But stay; Did one of Gods elected number,
(Whose eies should never sleep, nor eie lids slūber)
So much forget himselfe? Did Ionah sleepe,
That should be watchfull, and the Tower keepe?
Did Ionah (the selected mouth of God)
In stead of roaring judgements, does he nod?
Did Ionah sleepe so sound? Could he sleepe then,
When (with the sudden sight of Death) the men
(So many men) with yelling shrikes, and cryes,
Made very heaven report? Were Ionah's eyes
Still clos'd, and he, not of his life bereaven?

Hard must he wink that shuts his eies from heavē.
O righteous Isr'el, where, O where art thou?
Where is thy Lampe? thy zealous Shepheard now?
Alas! the rav'nous Wolves will worr' thy Sheepe;
Thy Shepheard's carelesse, and is falne asleepe;
Thy wandring flockes are frighted from their fold,
Their Shepherd's gone, and Foxes are too bold:
They, they whose smooth-fac'd words become the altar,
Their works dissent, & first begin to faulter;
And they that should be watchlights in the Temple
Are snuffes, and want the oyle of good example;
The chosen Watch-men that the tow'r should keep
Ate waxen heavy-ey'd, and falne asleepe.

Lord if thy watchmen wink too much, awake thē,
Although they slumber, do not quite forsake them;
The flesh is weake, say not (if dulnesse seize
Their heavy eyes) sleep henceforth: take your ease:

And we poore weaklings, when we sleepe in sin,
Knocke at our drowzy hearts; and never lin,
Till thou awake our sin-congealed eyes;
Lest (drown'd in sleepe) we sinke and never rise.