Divine poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

God speaks to Iob the second time:
Iob yeelds his sin, repents his crime:
God checks his friends, restores his health,
Gives him new issue, double wealth.

Once more the mouth of Heav'n rapt forth a voice,
The troubled Firmament was fill'd with noise,
The Rafters of the darkned Skie did shake,
For the Eternall thundred thus, and spake:

Collect thy scattered senses, and advise,
Rouze up (fond man) and answer my replies.

Wilt thou make Comments on my Text, & must
I be unrighteous, to conclude thee, just?
Shall my Decrees be licenced by thee?
What, canst thou thunder with a voyce like Me?
Put on thy Robes of Majestie; Be clad
With as bright glory (Iob) as can be had;
Make fierce thy frownes, and with an angry face
Confound the Proud, and his high thoughts abase,
Pound him to Dust: Doe this, and I will yeeld,
Thou art a God, and need'st no other sheild.

Behold, the Castle-bearing Elephant,
That wants no bulke, nor doth his greatnesse want
An equall strength. Behold his massie bones,
Like barres of Yron; like congealed stones,

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His knottie sinewes are; Him have I made,
And given him naturall weapons for his ayde;
High mountaines beare his food, the shady boughes
His Covers are, Great Rivers are his Troughes,
Whose deepe Carouses would to standers-by,
Seeme at a watring to draw Iordan dry:
What skilfull huntsman can, with strength out-dare him?
Or with what engines can a man ensnare him?

Hast thou beheld the huge Leviathan,
That swarthy Tyrant of the Ocean? Can
Thy bearded hooke impierce his Gils, or make him
Thy landed Prisner? Can thy angles take him?
Will he make suit for favour from thy hands,
Or be enthralled to thy fierce commands?
Will he be handled as a bird? or may
Thy fingers bind him for thy childrens play?
Let men be wise, for in his lookes he hath
Displayed Banners of untimely death.
If Creatures be so dreadfull, how is he
More bold then wise, that dares encounter Me?
What hand of Man can hinder my designe?
Are not the Heavens, and all beneath them mine!
Dissect the greatnesse of so vast a Creature,
By view of severall parts summe up his feature:
Like Shields his scales are plac't, which neither art
Knowes how to sunder, nor yet force can part.
His belching rucks forth flames, his moving Eye
Shines like the glory of the morning skie;
His craggie sinewes are like wreaths of brasse,
And from his mouth, quicke flames of fier passe
As from an Oven, the temper of his heart
Is like a Nether-milstone, which no Dart
Can pierce, secured from the threatning Speare;
Affraid of none, he strikes the world with feare:

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The Bow-mans brawny arme sends shafts in vaine,
They fall like stubble, or bound backe againe:
Stones are his pillow, and the Mud his Downe,
In earth none greater is, nor equall none,
Compar'd with him, all things he doth deride,
And well may challenge to be King of Pride.

So said, th'amazed Iob bent downe his eyes
Vpon the ground, and (sadly) thus replyes.
I know (great God) there's nothing hard to Thee,
Thy thoughts are pure, and too too deepe for me:
I am a foole, and my distempered wits,
Longer out-stray'd my Tongue, than well befits;
My knowledge slumbred, while my lips did chat,
And like a Foole, I spake I knew not what.
Lord, teach me Wisedome, lest my proud Desire,
Singe her bold feathers in thy Sacred fire;
Mine eare hath oft beene rounded with thy Story,
But now these very eyes have seene thy glory.
My sinfull words I not (alone) lament,
But in the horror of my soule repent;
Repent with Teares in sack-cloth, mourne in Dust;
I am a sinfull man, and Thou art just.

Thou Eliphaz that makst my sacred Word,
An Engine of Despaire (said then the Lord)
Behold full Vyolls of my wrath attends
On thee, and on thy two too-partiall Friends;
For you have judg'd amisse, and have abus'd
My Word to worke your ends, falsly accus'd
My righteous Servant: Of you all there's none
Hath spoke uprightly, as my Iob hath done.
Haste then (before my kindling fire begin
To flame) and each man offer for his sin,
A sacrifice, by Iob my servants hand,
And for his sake, your Offrings shall withstand

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The wages of your sinnes; for what can I,
If Iob, my servant, make request, deny?

So straight they went, and (after speedy pardon
Desir'd and had) the righteous Iob (for guerdon
Of his so tedious Griefe) obtain'd the health
Of a sound body, and encrease of wealth;
So that the second Harvest of his store,
Was double that which he enjoy'd before.
Ere this was blazed in the Worlds wide Eares,
(The frozen brests of his familiars,
And cold Allyes, being now dissolv'd in Griefe,)
His backward friends came to him with reliefe,
To feed his wants, and with sad shouring eyes,
To moane his (yet supposed) Miseries:
Some brought him sheepe to blesse his empty Fold,
Some precious Earings, others, Rings of Gold.
God blest his loyns, frō whence there sprang again
The number of his children that were slaine,
Nor was there any in the Land so rare
In vertue as his daughters, or so faire.
Long after this he liv'd in peace, to see
His childrens children to the fourth degree,
Till at the lenth, cut short by Him that stayes
For none, he dy'd in peace, and full of Dayes.

Meditat. 19.

Evill's the defect of Good, and as a shade,
That's but the ruines of the light decay'd:
It hath no being, nor is understood,
But by the opposition of Good.
What then is man? whose purest thoughts are prest
For Satans warre, which from the tender brest,

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With Infant silence, have consented to
Such sinfull Deeds, as (babes) they could not doe?
What then is man, but Nothing, being Evill,
His Lunatike affections doe unlevell,
What Heaven created by just Waight and measure;
In pleasures sinke, he takes a swinelike Pleasure;
His span of life, and beauties like a Flower,
Faire flourishing, and fading in an hower.
He breakes into the world with teares, and then
Departs with Griefe, not knowing how, nor when.
His life's a Bubble full of seeming Blisse,
The more it lengthens, the more short it is;
Begot in darknesse, he's brought forth, and cries
For succour, passes ore the stage, and dyes;
Yet, like a Moale, the earth he undermines,
Making the World, the Forge of his designes:
He plots, complots, foresees, prevents, directs,
Hee hopes, he feares, he doubts, pursues, effects;
Each hath his plot, each one his course doth bend,
Each hath his project, and each one his end.
Thus restlesse man doth still his soule molest
To finde out (that which hath no being) Rest;
Thus travels sinfull man in endlesse toyle;
Taking a pleasure in his owne turmoyle.
Fond man, first seeke to purchase that divine
And sacred prize, and all the world is thine:
Great Salomon made suit for Wisdome, and he found
Not (barely) Wisdome, but that Wisdome crown'd
With Diadems of wealth, and faire encrease
Of Princely Honour, with long dayes of Peace.

(With safe respect, and awfull reverence
To Myst'ries) Meditation doth commence
An earnest doubt: Was Iobs dispoiled Flock
Restored double: Was his former Stock

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Renew'd with double vantage? Did heaven adde
To all his fortunes double what he had?
Yet those sweet Emblemes of his dearest love,
(His sonnes) whom death untimely did remove
From off the face of the unthankfull earth,
Why likewise sprang not they in double birth?

Bruit beasts that perish once, are lost for ever,
Their substance, and their All consumes together.
Once having given a farewell to the light.
They dye, and with them is perpetuall night:
But man, (unorgan'd by the hand of Death)
Dyes not, is but transplanted from beneath,
Into a fairer soyle, or as a stranger,
Brought home secure from the worlds pleasing danger:
Iobs flocks were lost, and therefore double given,
His Issue's equall shar'd 'twixt Earth and Heaven,
One halfe in heav'n are glorious in their doome,
Ingag'd as Pledges till the other come.
Great God! my Time's but short, and long my way,
My Heart hath lost her Path, and gone astray,
My spirit's faint and fraile, my soule's imbost,
If thou helpe not, I am for ever lost;
Though Dust and Ashes, yet I am thy Creature,
Howe're my sinnes are great, thy Mercie's greater:
Of nothing didst thou make me, and my sinne
Hath turn'd me back to nothing, once agin:
Create me a new heart, (great God) inspire
My cold affections with thy sacred fire:

Instruct my Will, and rectifie my Wayes,
O teach me (Lord) to number out my Dayes.