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Poemata sacra

Latinae & Anglicae scripta [by John Saltmarsh]
Saltmarsh, John
  
[epigraph]

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POEMS UPON SOME OF the holy raptures of DAVID.
  
TO THE RIGHT WORSHIPFULL SIR THO. METHAM MY HONOURED FRIEND, and his vertuous Lady, the Lady METHAM.
 I. 
Meditation I. By the rivers of Babylon there we sat down, yea we wept, Psal. 137.
 II. 
Meditat. II. We hanged our harps upon the willows, Psal. 137.
 III. 
Meditat. III. I have eaten ashes like bread, and mingled my drink with weeping, Psal. 102.
 IV. 
Meditat. IV. My dayes are like a shadow that declineth, Psal. 102.
 V. 
Meditat. V. Wilt thou shew wonders on the dead? Psal. 88.
 VI. 
Meditat. VI. The Emblemes of the resurrection.
 VII. 
Meditat. VII. THE RESURRECTION.
 VIII. 
Meditat. VIII. Create in me a clean heart, Psal. 51.
 IX. 
Meditat. IX. He healeth the broken hearted, and bindeth up their wounds, Psal. 146.
 X. 
Meditat. X. The Lord is nigh to all those that call upon him, Psal. 145.
 XI. 
Meditat. XI. The Lord looseth the prisoners, Psal. 156.
  
A Meditation upon the Song of Songs,
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[section]
  
TO THE RIGHT WORSHIPFULL George Butler Esquire, one of his Majesties Councell established in the North.
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THE PICTURE OF GOD IN MAN,
 I. 
Chap. I. Why called the Picture.
 II. 
Chap. II.
 III. 
Chap. III. A representation of God in man.
 IV. 
Chap. IV. The Image of God in man.
 V. 
Chap. V. Gods Picture not in the bodie of man.
 VI. 
Chap. VI. Gods Picture in the soul, and what it is.
  
A meditation upon Eternitie.
  
Upon the rest on the Lords day.

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9

A meditation upon Eternitie.

Methought I had a Clepsydra so wide,
It held the ocean in his proudest tide:
I still'd by teares, by drops, this watrie main;
Yet I was glad to fill my glasse again.
Then all the sands, all atomes of the aire
I did imprison in a glasse: with care
I let the dusty minutes single passe
To the last atome; yet I turn'd the glasse.
Methought I had a clock hung at a starre:
My fancie spun the lines, the plummets were
Ty'd too, which reacht the centre that low stop;
Yet these runne down: again I wound them up.
Then when I saw Eternitie outgo
My clock, my glasse scorn'd to be measur'd so;
I spy'd an Angel hover, and did crie
To him, What's this you style Eternitie?
He spoke thus in his momentanie stay,
Go pluck from time his winged Yesterday
And his To morrow. Then I askt him, How
Call you it? So he answer'd me, A now.
Then shew'd a circle uniform and round,
And pointed to a chair set on the ground.
I weary with enquiries, thought me blest,
Sat in this embleme of eternall rest.
 

Æternitatis emblema apud Ægyptios.

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