The Glorious Lover A Divine Poem, Upon the Adorable Mystery of Sinners Redemption. By B. K. [i.e. Benjamin Keach] |
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| V. | CHAP. V. |
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 | CHAP. V. The Glorious Lover |  |
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CHAP. V.
Shewing how the Judgment of the Soul comes to be enlightened, and the effects thereof.
My patience's not yet tyr'd, my bowels move,
With bended knees shall I now gain thy love
To Jesus Christ? how shall I leave thee quite,
When I behold such terrors, which afright
My trembling Soul? wch soon will thee o're-take,
Unless thou dost with speed this Contract make.
Thy Judgment 'tis which I would fain convince.
Thy danger's great, I do perceive from thence:
When Conscience had almost (in truth) persuaded
Thee to repent, it was straightway invaded
By thy blind Understanding, and dark mind,
From whence thou art to evil still inclin'd.
Thou ofen-times hadst listen'd unto me,
And left thy sin: but they deceived thee,
And chang'd thy thoughts (as Conscience doth relate)
Till thy condition's grown most desperate.
Wilt thou once dare to harbour such a thought;
Because with bloud thy Soul by Christ was bought,
Thou mayest sin, and take thy pleasure here,
And prize the world as equal, nay, more dear
To thee than him? How canst thou be so dark
This to imagine, Soul? I prethee hark;
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Thee to redeem from all iniquitie,
And that to him thou shouldst espoused be?
Should a great Prince love a poor Virgin so,
As for her sake ten thousand sorrows know,
And be content at last when all is done,
Another should enjoy her for his own?
Oh! ope thine eyes, imbrace the chiefest Good;
Let him be dear to thee, who with his Bloud
Hath thee redeem'd from Sin, the chiefest ill,
Be not unto thy self so cruel still,
And void of Reason, foolishly to chuse
The greatest Evil, and chief'st Good refuse.
The good in Christ with every state agrees,
It suits the Soul when troubles on it seize.
When thou art sick, he'l thy Physician be,
He all distempers cures. Nay, it is He,
And he alone, that heals the precious Soul,
And with a word can make the Body whole.
Art dark? O, he can straightway make thee see;
Nay, if born blind, he can give eyes to thee.
If thou art weary, he alone's thy rest.
Or, art thou sad, and grievously deprest?
He is thy comfort, and thy joy will be,
Like to the deep and overflowing Sea.
If thou an hungry art, he is thy food.
O tast and see, and thou wilt find him good.
The Fatling's slain, and all things ready are;
Thou'rt welcome too; O come, and do not spare,
But freely eat, and drink his spiced Wine,
Wch will make glad that drooping heart of thine,
The Father calls, the Spirit says, O come;
And Christ doth say, here's in my heart yet room,
O Sinner! come to me: hark, he doth cry,
O come to me, poor Soul, why wilt thou die?
Art thou in Prison, he will ope the door,
He'l pay thy debts, and wipe off all thy score.
If thou a Widow or an Orphan be,
Husband and Father both he'l be to thee:
A Husband that does live, yea, live for ever:
Match here, poor Soul, where Death can part you never.
Or, art thou weak, & canst not go alone?
He is thy strength, O thou mayst lean upon
His mighty Arm; for that is thy support.
Art thou beleaguer'd? he's thy Royal Fort.
In times of danger and of trouble great,
Unto his holy Name do thou retreat:
Which is a Tower strong to all that fly
With care and speed from all iniquity.
Under his wings he'l hide his purchas'd One,
Till these calamities are past and gone.
Or, art thou dying, and dost fear the grave?
He is thy life, from Death he will thee save;
They cannot die, who such a Husband have.
Or, art a Sinner? he's thy Righteousness;
He's more than I can any ways express.
The good in Christ is so exceeding sweet,
None understand until they tast of it.
He is a Good which none can comprehend,
He is a Good which doth all others send;
The chiefest Good, good of himself alone,
When carnal joys and pleasures all are gone.
That's not the good that fills not the desire,
That can't be chief, if there be yet a higher.
God is so good, noughts good if him we want;
Small things, with him, will satisfie a Saint:
He is so good, that nought can bitter make him
Unto that Soul, who chearfully does take him,
And his sweet love and precious grace enjoys;
Yet this rare Good ne'r gluts, nor sweetness cloys.
The best of earthly sweets, which fools do prize,
By sin and sickness doth much bitter rise.
They loath them straight, and can't abide to hear
Of that which lately they esteem'd so dear.
That, that's the Good on which thou shouldst depend,
That is desired for no other end
Than for it self! O tast of him, and try,
And thou'lt be filled to Eternity.
That's not the Good which suddenly doth leave us,
That's not the Good of which Death can bereave us,
Christ is a Good that's lasting, and abides;
All other Good, alas, will fail besides.
Make him thy choice, dear Soul, O do but try
How sweet it is in Jesu's Arms to lie.
Make him thy joy, and thou'lt see cause to sing,
Whatever days or change may on thee bring.
Let him be dear to thee, who with his Bloud
Hath thee redeem'd from Sin, the chiefest ill,
Be not unto thy self so cruel still,
And void of Reason, foolishly to chuse
The greatest Evil, and chief'st Good refuse.
The good in Christ with every state agrees,
It suits the Soul when troubles on it seize.
When thou art sick, he'l thy Physician be,
He all distempers cures. Nay, it is He,
And he alone, that heals the precious Soul,
And with a word can make the Body whole.
Art dark? O, he can straightway make thee see;
Nay, if born blind, he can give eyes to thee.
If thou art weary, he alone's thy rest.
Or, art thou sad, and grievously deprest?
He is thy comfort, and thy joy will be,
Like to the deep and overflowing Sea.
If thou an hungry art, he is thy food.
O tast and see, and thou wilt find him good.
The Fatling's slain, and all things ready are;
Thou'rt welcome too; O come, and do not spare,
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Wch will make glad that drooping heart of thine,
The Father calls, the Spirit says, O come;
And Christ doth say, here's in my heart yet room,
O Sinner! come to me: hark, he doth cry,
O come to me, poor Soul, why wilt thou die?
Art thou in Prison, he will ope the door,
He'l pay thy debts, and wipe off all thy score.
If thou a Widow or an Orphan be,
Husband and Father both he'l be to thee:
A Husband that does live, yea, live for ever:
Match here, poor Soul, where Death can part you never.
Or, art thou weak, & canst not go alone?
He is thy strength, O thou mayst lean upon
His mighty Arm; for that is thy support.
Art thou beleaguer'd? he's thy Royal Fort.
In times of danger and of trouble great,
Unto his holy Name do thou retreat:
Which is a Tower strong to all that fly
With care and speed from all iniquity.
Under his wings he'l hide his purchas'd One,
Till these calamities are past and gone.
Or, art thou dying, and dost fear the grave?
He is thy life, from Death he will thee save;
They cannot die, who such a Husband have.
Or, art a Sinner? he's thy Righteousness;
He's more than I can any ways express.
The good in Christ is so exceeding sweet,
None understand until they tast of it.
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He is a Good which doth all others send;
The chiefest Good, good of himself alone,
When carnal joys and pleasures all are gone.
That's not the good that fills not the desire,
That can't be chief, if there be yet a higher.
God is so good, noughts good if him we want;
Small things, with him, will satisfie a Saint:
He is so good, that nought can bitter make him
Unto that Soul, who chearfully does take him,
And his sweet love and precious grace enjoys;
Yet this rare Good ne'r gluts, nor sweetness cloys.
The best of earthly sweets, which fools do prize,
By sin and sickness doth much bitter rise.
They loath them straight, and can't abide to hear
Of that which lately they esteem'd so dear.
That, that's the Good on which thou shouldst depend,
That is desired for no other end
Than for it self! O tast of him, and try,
And thou'lt be filled to Eternity.
That's not the Good which suddenly doth leave us,
That's not the Good of which Death can bereave us,
Christ is a Good that's lasting, and abides;
All other Good, alas, will fail besides.
Make him thy choice, dear Soul, O do but try
How sweet it is in Jesu's Arms to lie.
Make him thy joy, and thou'lt see cause to sing,
Whatever days or change may on thee bring.
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Sad times, alas! here is a sudden change;
Nought can I hear of now but rumors strange,
Of Wars and Tumults, with perplexity,
Which do encrease and swell most vehemently
Within the regions of my inward man,
Which causes tears, and makes my face look wan.
Cross workings in me clearly I discover,
I am distrest about this glorious Lover.
The counsel which my heart did lately give
I cannot take, I dare not it receive.
Great slaughters there will be in my small Isle,
For without bloud be sure this fearful broil
Will never cease; which side now shall I take?
I tremble much, yea all my bones do shake.
Some of my sins which I have loved dear,
Are forc'd to fly, and others can't appear,
Lest Conscience should upon them fall: for he
Crys out, Kill all, let not one spared be.
Nay, Judgment too is all-most at a stand,
Which doth amuse me much o'th other hand.
Yet Will and Old-man, are resolv'dly bent
To hinder me from granting my consent.
Yet if I could but have some glimm'ring sight
Of this great Prince, I know not but it might
Work strange effects in me: for I do find
My Eyes are out, my Understanding blind.
Lord, pity me: for I a wretch have bin,
To slight thee thus, and love my cursed sin.
Nought can I hear of now but rumors strange,
Of Wars and Tumults, with perplexity,
Which do encrease and swell most vehemently
Within the regions of my inward man,
Which causes tears, and makes my face look wan.
Cross workings in me clearly I discover,
I am distrest about this glorious Lover.
The counsel which my heart did lately give
I cannot take, I dare not it receive.
Great slaughters there will be in my small Isle,
For without bloud be sure this fearful broil
Will never cease; which side now shall I take?
I tremble much, yea all my bones do shake.
Some of my sins which I have loved dear,
Are forc'd to fly, and others can't appear,
Lest Conscience should upon them fall: for he
Crys out, Kill all, let not one spared be.
Nay, Judgment too is all-most at a stand,
Which doth amuse me much o'th other hand.
Yet Will and Old-man, are resolv'dly bent
To hinder me from granting my consent.
Yet if I could but have some glimm'ring sight
Of this great Prince, I know not but it might
Work strange effects in me: for I do find
My Eyes are out, my Understanding blind.
Lord, pity me: for I a wretch have bin,
To slight thee thus, and love my cursed sin.
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Thus whilst God's Word was preacht, and she also
Began to cry; I did observe, and lo,
A Friend was sent from the blest Prince of Light,
The glory of whose Face did shine so bright,
That none were able to behold, for he
Seem'd not infer'our to the Majesty
Of the great God, and his eternal Son:
For they in Essence are all three but one.
His Power's great, and Glory is his merit;
His nature's like his Name (most holy Spirit.)
Who to the Soul did presently draw near,
And toucht her heart, and then unstopt her ear;
And from him shone such glorious rays of light,
Some scales flew off, and she recover'd sight.
Which straitway did her judgment rectifie,
Who to this purpose did himself apply
Unto the Soul whom he had led astray.
I must confess my faults to thee this day.
Began to cry; I did observe, and lo,
A Friend was sent from the blest Prince of Light,
The glory of whose Face did shine so bright,
That none were able to behold, for he
Seem'd not infer'our to the Majesty
Of the great God, and his eternal Son:
For they in Essence are all three but one.
His Power's great, and Glory is his merit;
His nature's like his Name (most holy Spirit.)
Who to the Soul did presently draw near,
And toucht her heart, and then unstopt her ear;
And from him shone such glorious rays of light,
Some scales flew off, and she recover'd sight.
Which straitway did her judgment rectifie,
Who to this purpose did himself apply
Unto the Soul whom he had led astray.
I must confess my faults to thee this day.
Judgment.
For want of light false judgment I have given,And treacherously conspired against Heaven;
And 'gainst thy life and happiness have I
Been drawn into a vile conspiracy
Of th' highest nature: for I did consent
With thy base Foes, who hellishly are bent,
To tear thee into pieces, quite undo thee,
Whilst smilingly they proffer pleasures to thee.
And now though not t' extenuate my sin,
I'le tell thee how I have been drawen in.
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The cursed Old-man, with his evil deeds.
They with Apollyon jointly did unite
To draw a Curtain 'twixt me and the light.
And thus though I sometimes was half inclin'd
To judge for God, they basely kept me blind.
They've me corrupted with thy wilful Will,
Who, I do fear, remains most stubborn still:
Which if't be so, and he's not made to bend,
Conclude the match thou canst not wth thy friend
And I, poor I, can't make him condescend:
Some higer Power 'tis must make him yield,
Or he'l stand out and never quit the Field.
For he's a churlish piece, and thou wilt find
To what is evil, he is most enclin'd:
But hath no will at all to what is right,
A very Traytor to the Prince of Light.
But as for me, my thoughts are clearly now
Thou oughtst forthwith to yield, and meekly bow
To the great King, thy mighty Lord and Lover.
And more then this to thee I must discover;
Now, now I know thy Soveraign Lord will pry
Into thy very heart, his piercing Eye
Will find that Soul amongst the Company
Who wants the Wedding-garment, and will sever
That unprepared man in Wrath for ever
From his sweet presence: Soul, his Word doth shew
Nothing will serve but universal new.
He is a jealous God, will not endure
To see thee only counterfeited pure;
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But claims both ears, eyes, hands, yea, the whole heart.
Now, now I see 'tis pure simplicity
That is alone accepted in his Eye.
That sin which has been like to a right hand,
For profit sweet, thou must at his command
Cut straight-way off. Nay, Soul, look thou about;
For Right-eye sins must all be pulled out.
Though they for pleasure have to thee bin dear,
Yet must they have no room, nor favour here.
Of every sin thou must thy self deny;
One sin will damn thee to Eternity,
If thou to it dost any love retain.
Nay, hark to me, Soul, listen once again;
The Law must also unto thee be dead,
And thou to it, or never canst thou wed
With Jesus Christ. If thy first Husband live,
Who to another Husband can thee give?
The smallest sin thou ever didst commit,
The Law's so strict, it damns the Soul for it.
Let this divorce thee from it, 'tis severe,
No life nor help (alas) canst thou have there.
And therefore unto Jesus come with speed,
For such a Bridegroom 'tis which thou dost need.
And th' glory of the blessed Bridal-state,
Will far exceed the greatest Potentate.
What's he? Ah Soul! what grace and favor's this?
Where dwels that Queen, nay where that Emperess,
Whose splendent glory can e're equal thine,
When thou canst say, I'm his, and he is mine?
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A Consultation held between the Prince and Powers of Darkness, hearing how the Judgment was rectified, and the understanding of the Soul somewhat enlightened.
Most mighty Pow'rs, who once from Heav'n fell,To raise this Throne and Monarchy in Hell;
Do not despair, rouse up, all is not gone,
The Conqueror han't yet the Conquest won.
Tis far below your noble extract thus
To stand amaz'd; is there no pow'r in us,
For to revive our scattered force? let's try
What may be done, we can at last but fly.
Ne'r let us yield that she should raised be
To such a height, to such great Soveraigntie.
What, she, whose birth and pedigree was mean
To what our's was, shall she be crowned Queen,
Whilst we are made the Objects of her scorn,
Hated of God and Man? This can't be born.
What, shall eternal Arms embrace the Soul,
Whilst we in chains of Darkness do condole
Our former loss? in spite of Heaven let's try
Yet once again to spoil th' Affinity.
Satan.
Bravely resolv'd! and if in Hell there are
A legion of such Spirits, never fear
But we the Conquest yet o're Heaven shall gain,
And all the hopes and pride of Mortals stain.
We venture very little, yet shall win
All at one blow, if we prevail agin.
And there's great hopes methinks; for ev'n success
Makes foes secure, and makes our danger less.
Lo! don't you see how the fond Soul doth lie
Ope to our Arms in great security?
And though some ground is lost, yet seek about,
View well our force within, and that without.
We in her house have a strong party yet,
Who in our bands keep her unwary feet.
Let's make a search, and now more careful be,
For sad it is the wretch such light should see.
Without all doubt there has been some neglects,
Which has produc'd such undesir'd effects.
Could none keep out the light? or has her heart,
Always so true to us, play'd a false part?
Sure Will and Old-man both do stand and pause,
Or some grand Foe hath quite betray'd our cause.
We must be-stir us, and give new directions,
And by all means keep fast the Soul's affections.
Affection's still by Old-man is directed;
And Will to us does yet stand well affected.
Let us pursue our present enterprize,
With all the craft and pow'r we can devise.
Our Prince, I see, is very much offended,
And thus in short the Consultation ended.
A legion of such Spirits, never fear
But we the Conquest yet o're Heaven shall gain,
And all the hopes and pride of Mortals stain.
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All at one blow, if we prevail agin.
And there's great hopes methinks; for ev'n success
Makes foes secure, and makes our danger less.
Lo! don't you see how the fond Soul doth lie
Ope to our Arms in great security?
And though some ground is lost, yet seek about,
View well our force within, and that without.
We in her house have a strong party yet,
Who in our bands keep her unwary feet.
Let's make a search, and now more careful be,
For sad it is the wretch such light should see.
Without all doubt there has been some neglects,
Which has produc'd such undesir'd effects.
Could none keep out the light? or has her heart,
Always so true to us, play'd a false part?
Sure Will and Old-man both do stand and pause,
Or some grand Foe hath quite betray'd our cause.
We must be-stir us, and give new directions,
And by all means keep fast the Soul's affections.
Affection's still by Old-man is directed;
And Will to us does yet stand well affected.
Let us pursue our present enterprize,
With all the craft and pow'r we can devise.
Our Prince, I see, is very much offended,
And thus in short the Consultation ended.
Apollyon with whole troops of hellish Fiends
Immediately into the Soul descends,
To raise sad storms and tempests in her breast,
Who being curst, hates any should be blest.
And that he might the better have his ends
Accomplished, he thus bespeaks his Friends:
The Flesh with all its lusts, to whom he said,
Old-man, my grand Ally, I am afraid
My tottering Kingdom has not long to stand,
It to my aid thou dost not lend thy hand.
'Tis thou (old Friend) that must my cause maintain,
Or otherwise thou wilt thy self be slain.
Hark! dost not hear that flesh-amazing cry,
“Kill the Old-man, O kill, O crucifie
“The Old-man with his deeds, rise up and slay,
“Let not that Foe survive another day?
“It is that cursed Old man works our bane,
“Then let him die, let the Old-man be slain.
Bestir thy self, and try thy utmost skill,
Undoubtedly thou must be kill'd, or kill.
'Tis not a time to pause, or slack thy hand,
Negligence will not with thy int'rest stand.
Tell, tell the Soul, in vain thou dost deny
Thy self of that which satisfies the Eye;
Adorn thy self with Pearl, be deckt with Gold,
Such pleasant things are lovely to behold;
Avoid all those penurious Nicities,
That makes thee hateful in thy Neighbour's eyes;
Delight thy self in that the world 'counts brave,
And let thy senses have what e're they crave.
Say to the Soul, let not thine Ears and Eyes
Be satisfy'd alone, but please likewise
Thy Appetite, grant all the Soul desires.
And if it chance to kindle lustful fires,
Tel her the earth was fil'd with boundless treasures,
That she thereby might take her fill of pleasures.
And for that end the senses are united
In one fair body, there to be delighted.
And tell her, if she do restrain one sense
Of what it craves, she offers violence
Unto her self, and doth her self deny
Of the best good, and chief'st felicity.
Immediately into the Soul descends,
To raise sad storms and tempests in her breast,
Who being curst, hates any should be blest.
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Accomplished, he thus bespeaks his Friends:
The Flesh with all its lusts, to whom he said,
Old-man, my grand Ally, I am afraid
My tottering Kingdom has not long to stand,
It to my aid thou dost not lend thy hand.
'Tis thou (old Friend) that must my cause maintain,
Or otherwise thou wilt thy self be slain.
Hark! dost not hear that flesh-amazing cry,
“Kill the Old-man, O kill, O crucifie
“The Old-man with his deeds, rise up and slay,
“Let not that Foe survive another day?
“It is that cursed Old man works our bane,
“Then let him die, let the Old-man be slain.
Bestir thy self, and try thy utmost skill,
Undoubtedly thou must be kill'd, or kill.
'Tis not a time to pause, or slack thy hand,
Negligence will not with thy int'rest stand.
Tell, tell the Soul, in vain thou dost deny
Thy self of that which satisfies the Eye;
Adorn thy self with Pearl, be deckt with Gold,
Such pleasant things are lovely to behold;
Avoid all those penurious Nicities,
That makes thee hateful in thy Neighbour's eyes;
Delight thy self in that the world 'counts brave,
And let thy senses have what e're they crave.
Say to the Soul, let not thine Ears and Eyes
Be satisfy'd alone, but please likewise
Thy Appetite, grant all the Soul desires.
And if it chance to kindle lustful fires,
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That she thereby might take her fill of pleasures.
And for that end the senses are united
In one fair body, there to be delighted.
And tell her, if she do restrain one sense
Of what it craves, she offers violence
Unto her self, and doth her self deny
Of the best good, and chief'st felicity.
The Old-man's Reply.
This Hellish Lecture past, the Old-man breaksHis Silence; and, half Angry, thus he speaks:
Renowned Father! let thy Servant borrow
A word or two to mitigate my sorrow.
This Counsel might have done some time ago,
But now enlighted Judgment lets her know
All these are painted pleasures, and their date
Ends with her life: dread Prince! it is too late
To mind this Counsel, she will not receive it,
Her Understanding now will not believe it.
I by thy Aid have oft endeavoured
In fitter times such kind of things to spread
Before her eyes; but now of late we find
There is an alteration in her mind
Could you have took the Gospel quite away,
'Twould not have been as 'tis, you do delay.
No more of that—Old-man, take my direction
Improve thy int'rest now with her affection,
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That which the Understanding doth reprove.
This being so, if we improve our skill,
And can but keep firm unto us the Will,
If he's not over-powr'd, thou maist gain,
Thy former strength, and long thou mayest reign.
For Conscience thou may'st once again hereby
Lull fast asleep, and then also her Eye
Will grow so weak, her light diminished,
That Judgment by Affection shall be led.
And if thou canst but once this way persuade her,
Will and Affection quickly will invade her
To please her senses; and for those intents
Affection may use weighty Arguments;
And thus being overcome, she will be more
Intangled in our fetters than before.
Lusts of the eyes, and pride of life, these be
My Agents both, they are employ'd by me.
Old-man, therefore proceed, the Intrest's mine;
But be victorious, and the Conquest's thine.
Once lose the day, and thou be sure must die.
Which being lost, thou'lt suffer more than I.
Old-man.
Most dread Apollyon! thou must understand,
As I have ever been at thy command,
And am thy Servant, so I will remain;
And fight until I slay, or else am slain.
Yet let me lodg this secret in thy breast,
Canst thou be ignorant, how she's possest
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That I do seem a Monster in her sight.
I shall not overcome her now, unless
I do appear to her in some new dress.
Time was indeed when I have been respected,
But now, alas, I greatly am suspected
Of being thy great favourite; nay, she
Affirms that I am wholly led by thee.
These things consider'd, I must be advis'd,
Fear lest I should be unawares surpriz'd.
Apollyon.
Thou hit'st the case, and I agree thereto;
Thou shalt be clothed new from top to to:
And I'le transform my shape, and will appear,
For thy assistance; haste, and nothing fear.
With specious shews of love, do thou pretend,
Thou com'st to reason with her as a Friend,
Not meaning to perswade her to remove,
Or to withdraw in any case her love
From her great Soveraign, whom thou maist confess
Can only her advance to happiness;
Yet tell her she's too strict, she's too precise,
She'l never hold it; bid her to be wise:
Soft pace goes far; an over-heated zeal
Ruins the Soul, and spoils the Common-weal.
Go bid her carry 't in her Princes sight
With Saint-like sweetness; bid her to delight
In his presence, and there demurely stand;
But when she's absent, let both heart and hand
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With sense-deluding Objects. Furthermore,
Tell her he's not so strict as to debar
Her of these joys below, for her's they are:
Of which Paul rightly speaks, this is the sum,
All things are yours, both present and to come;
Thus we'l combine, and all our pow'rs unite,
And in this mode and curious dress incite
Th' enligten'd Soul to play the Hypocrite.
The flesh being thus with th' pow'rs of Hell agreed,
The inward Foe bestirs himself with speed;
Vile Traytor like, a Panther doth become,
To work about the Soul's eternal doom.
A cruel Serpent, in a Saint-like guize,
The better to trapan the long'd-for prize.
As Balaam, once, and Balak, so do they
Seek to find out some curst insidious way,
The poor unwary Soul for to betray
To the last Death's dark and eternal shade.
Balaam advises Balak to invade
God's Heritage, 'twas by the beauteous train
Of Moabite Damsels, who he thought might gain
The Israelites affections, and thereby
Make them offend against the Majesty
Of God All-mighty, by whose powerful hand
Jacob prevails, and Moab could no wise stand.
Ah! see how the wise Fowler lays his snare
To catch the poor enlighten'd Soul. Beware,
And do not close thy new-inlighten'd Eyes;
Under the Golden clew the Panther lies.
The Eye-intangled Creature stands to gaze
Upon the lovely Panther in a maze,
Till the deluded Beast doth by his stay
Unwillingly become the Panther's prey.
Just as you see sometimes the nimble fly,
Dancing about the flame, advance so nigh,
Until it's taken and doth burn its wings.
Thus from it self its own destruction springs.
Or like two Men, who running in a Race,
With hopes the Golden Diadem shall grace
The Victor's Temples, in the way doth lie
A Golden Ball; one of them casts his Eye
Upom the same, makes but a little stay
To take it up, the other hasts away,
And never turns aside to fix his Eyes
On this or that, but runs and wins the prize:
The other he the Ball espies, is loth
To let it lie: in hopes to get them both,
He loses both: for when he comes to try,
Doth find the Golden Ball deceiv'd his Eye;
For when he thought to lay it up in store,
Finds it an Earthly Ball, but gilded o're.
O! then he grieves, but then it is too late,
His Eye's the cause of his unhappy fate.
A fit resemblance: for thus stands the case
With every Soul. This mortal life's the Race.
A blessed Kingdom crowns the Victor's brow
With endless glory, but whilst here below
We're tempt by Earthly pleasures, that's the Ball;
Satan's the Sopister, who lets it fall.
Now look about thee, Soul, thy time's at hand,
Thine Enemies approach, nay, lo they stand
Ready prepared, and resolv'd to try
Both strength and craft to get the Victory.
Thy precious Lord is the eternal Prize,
Mind well thy Mark, take heed of wanton Eyes,
If Pleasures thou, or Honours, shouldst espy,
Stop not to gaze, run swift, and pass them by;
Take no regard unto that painted Ball,
Which Satan, to deceive thee, has let fall.
The Old-man's near (the flesh) in a new dress,
And whose with him? Ah! thou mayst eas'ly guess.
'Tis to deceive thee he appears so trim,
And thou mayst see the Devil plain in him.
The pow'rs of Hell in thee will try their skill
For to insnare Affections, and the Will;
Nay, Satan has got them to take his side;
Thus treacherously thy heart they do divide.
The inward Foe bestirs himself with speed;
Vile Traytor like, a Panther doth become,
To work about the Soul's eternal doom.
A cruel Serpent, in a Saint-like guize,
The better to trapan the long'd-for prize.
As Balaam, once, and Balak, so do they
Seek to find out some curst insidious way,
The poor unwary Soul for to betray
To the last Death's dark and eternal shade.
Balaam advises Balak to invade
God's Heritage, 'twas by the beauteous train
Of Moabite Damsels, who he thought might gain
The Israelites affections, and thereby
Make them offend against the Majesty
Of God All-mighty, by whose powerful hand
Jacob prevails, and Moab could no wise stand.
Ah! see how the wise Fowler lays his snare
To catch the poor enlighten'd Soul. Beware,
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Under the Golden clew the Panther lies.
The Eye-intangled Creature stands to gaze
Upon the lovely Panther in a maze,
Till the deluded Beast doth by his stay
Unwillingly become the Panther's prey.
Just as you see sometimes the nimble fly,
Dancing about the flame, advance so nigh,
Until it's taken and doth burn its wings.
Thus from it self its own destruction springs.
Or like two Men, who running in a Race,
With hopes the Golden Diadem shall grace
The Victor's Temples, in the way doth lie
A Golden Ball; one of them casts his Eye
Upom the same, makes but a little stay
To take it up, the other hasts away,
And never turns aside to fix his Eyes
On this or that, but runs and wins the prize:
The other he the Ball espies, is loth
To let it lie: in hopes to get them both,
He loses both: for when he comes to try,
Doth find the Golden Ball deceiv'd his Eye;
For when he thought to lay it up in store,
Finds it an Earthly Ball, but gilded o're.
O! then he grieves, but then it is too late,
His Eye's the cause of his unhappy fate.
A fit resemblance: for thus stands the case
With every Soul. This mortal life's the Race.
A blessed Kingdom crowns the Victor's brow
With endless glory, but whilst here below
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Satan's the Sopister, who lets it fall.
Now look about thee, Soul, thy time's at hand,
Thine Enemies approach, nay, lo they stand
Ready prepared, and resolv'd to try
Both strength and craft to get the Victory.
Thy precious Lord is the eternal Prize,
Mind well thy Mark, take heed of wanton Eyes,
If Pleasures thou, or Honours, shouldst espy,
Stop not to gaze, run swift, and pass them by;
Take no regard unto that painted Ball,
Which Satan, to deceive thee, has let fall.
The Old-man's near (the flesh) in a new dress,
And whose with him? Ah! thou mayst eas'ly guess.
'Tis to deceive thee he appears so trim,
And thou mayst see the Devil plain in him.
The pow'rs of Hell in thee will try their skill
For to insnare Affections, and the Will;
Nay, Satan has got them to take his side;
Thus treacherously thy heart they do divide.
Thus though the Soul obtains inlightned Eyes,
Whilst thicker darkness vanishes and flies,
Yet is she vex'd with sore perplexities
'Twixt two extreams and two contrary Laws,
Judgment is led by one, Affection draws
The other way; she can't tell which to please:
She knows what's best, but strong temptations seize
Upon her so, that she's at a great stand,
This way she goes, then to the other hand.
Her faculties fall out, they disagree.
O look, methinks I in the Soul do see
Four mighty Warriours draw into the Field
To try their Valour, and refuse to yield
Unto each other: here's two against two:
Judgment with Conscience are united so,
That Will and the Affections do resolve
The trembling Soul in Wars still to involve.
Will rouses up, refuses to give way,
That his great opposites should have the day;
Apollyon also with him doth take part,
To hold his own, and to beguile her heart.
They meet, they strike, & blows exchange for blows,
Darts are let fly, they with each other close.
The conflict's sharp, 'tis very hard to know
Which will the other beat and overthrow.
Will's hard put to't, nay, had lost the day quite,
But that more Traytors join'd him in the Fight.
Th' Old-man rouses with rebellious flesh,
And these domestick Wars renew afresh.
They fight about the Soul, would know who must
Have th' heart and its affections, Christ, or Lust.
Satan by inward motions straight reply'd,
My sentence is, we'l equally divide,
And give alike, both can't have the whole heart;
Christ take a piece, and I the other part.
He'd have the question by the Sword decided,
Knowing the Soul lies dead whilst 'tis divided.
Whilst thicker darkness vanishes and flies,
Yet is she vex'd with sore perplexities
'Twixt two extreams and two contrary Laws,
Judgment is led by one, Affection draws
The other way; she can't tell which to please:
She knows what's best, but strong temptations seize
Upon her so, that she's at a great stand,
This way she goes, then to the other hand.
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O look, methinks I in the Soul do see
Four mighty Warriours draw into the Field
To try their Valour, and refuse to yield
Unto each other: here's two against two:
Judgment with Conscience are united so,
That Will and the Affections do resolve
The trembling Soul in Wars still to involve.
Will rouses up, refuses to give way,
That his great opposites should have the day;
Apollyon also with him doth take part,
To hold his own, and to beguile her heart.
They meet, they strike, & blows exchange for blows,
Darts are let fly, they with each other close.
The conflict's sharp, 'tis very hard to know
Which will the other beat and overthrow.
Will's hard put to't, nay, had lost the day quite,
But that more Traytors join'd him in the Fight.
Th' Old-man rouses with rebellious flesh,
And these domestick Wars renew afresh.
They fight about the Soul, would know who must
Have th' heart and its affections, Christ, or Lust.
Satan by inward motions straight reply'd,
My sentence is, we'l equally divide,
And give alike, both can't have the whole heart;
Christ take a piece, and I the other part.
He'd have the question by the Sword decided,
Knowing the Soul lies dead whilst 'tis divided.
Thus 'tis with many. Ah! look well within,
Judgment convinc'd may be, yet may thy sin
In thy affections live, and also thou
Mayst not to th' pow'r of Grace and Jesus bow.
Thou mayst have light, and speak as Balaam did,
Whose Eyes Jehovah so far opened,
That he cry'd out, O happy Israel!
How goodly are the Tents where thou dost dwell!
He (like to many Preachers) did commend
God's holy ways, and wish'd that his last end
Might be like his, who righteously doth live,
And his whole heart doth unto Jesus give.
He to this purpose spake, yet ne'r-the-less,
Lov'd best the wages of unrighteousness.
The Understanding may much light receive,
And yet may not the Soul rightly believe,
Nor be espous'd to Christ, may not rely
On him alone in true simplicitie.
But to proceed; with careful Eye let's view
What follows here, what 'tis doth next ensue.
As Combatants sometimes a Parly beat
After some sharp Encounter, or retreat,
And with each other do expostulate
About their rising, or their sinking sate.
Even so likewise do these strong inward Foes,
They pause as 'twere, parly, then fall to blows.
Judgment convinc'd may be, yet may thy sin
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Mayst not to th' pow'r of Grace and Jesus bow.
Thou mayst have light, and speak as Balaam did,
Whose Eyes Jehovah so far opened,
That he cry'd out, O happy Israel!
How goodly are the Tents where thou dost dwell!
He (like to many Preachers) did commend
God's holy ways, and wish'd that his last end
Might be like his, who righteously doth live,
And his whole heart doth unto Jesus give.
He to this purpose spake, yet ne'r-the-less,
Lov'd best the wages of unrighteousness.
The Understanding may much light receive,
And yet may not the Soul rightly believe,
Nor be espous'd to Christ, may not rely
On him alone in true simplicitie.
But to proceed; with careful Eye let's view
What follows here, what 'tis doth next ensue.
As Combatants sometimes a Parly beat
After some sharp Encounter, or retreat,
And with each other do expostulate
About their rising, or their sinking sate.
Even so likewise do these strong inward Foes,
They pause as 'twere, parly, then fall to blows.
The Old-man moves, and presently he meets
With the poor Soul, and thus Affection greets:
Thou for my Int'rest ever yet hast been,
And sweet (says he) Ah! sweet's a bosom sin;
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Unto my will; and now, indear'd Affection.
Our Master, great Apollyon, doth command
That we unite our force, and faithful stand
Against our Foes; thy int'rest is invaded,
Thou seest by whom, thou knowst who are inraged:
Hold fast thine own, ne'r let those Objects go
Thou lov'st so dear, 'twill be thy overthrow;
And thereby too the Soul will unawares
Be much involv'd in more vexatious cares;
And those delights which thou wert wont to have,
Will be obscured in the darksom Cave
Of black Oblivion, buried out of sight,
Should once the Soul close with this Prince of Light.
Not that we think thou canst 'ith' least approve
Of this, whereby she should withdraw her love
Quite from those things which we esteem so dear;
For Heart and Will some ways do yet adhere
Unto our Int'rest; yet basely misled
She is, e're since she's been enlightened.
We are content she should cry up the choice
She thinks to make, let her in that rejoice;
Yet there's a secret we would fain reveal,
She's blinded by her over-fervent zeal.
It is enough since she has made such vows
To love him so, as to become his Spouse,
Why should she not have yet sweet sensual pleasures,
To please the flesh, to whom the greatest treasures
Of right belongs that ever were possest?
How can her glory better be exprest,
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Joys here below as well as bliss in Heaven?
Let her not fear to spend her days in mirth,
That's Heir of Heaven, and Lady of the Earth.
This think upon, and secretly impart
So sweet a Message to the yielding heart.
Affection hears, and willingly consented,
And strives with this to make the Soul contented;
Nay, with it too, the Soul began to close,
Until poor Conscience did them both oppose.
Affection, Will, and Conscience talk a while;
Apollyon straight starts up, and with a smile
Salutes them all, seeming as if he were
One unconcern'd with any matters there:
Who well observing how these three contended,
Begs leave to speak a word, as he pretended,
In favour to them all, desiring he
Might at this time their Moderator be.
At this they seem'd to pause, and stand all mute,
At length the Soul, but faintly, grants his Suit:
The Devil having thus obtain'd his end,
Salutes the Soul, Fair Virgin, I commend
Thy happy choice, almost, if not quite made;
Yet, if all matters were but wisely weigh'd,
Thou'lt find Affection has advis'd thee right;
And 't can't be safe such Counsel now to slight.
The greatest honours oft, for want of care
In just improvements, have been made a snare.
What bount'ous Heav'n & Earth affords, refuse not;
Be not so nice; ye 'buse the things you use not.
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Into Celestial Joys, yet quite bereave thee
Of present sweetness? Tush! this cannot be;
He will sure ne'r such wrong do unto thee.
Reflect not what thy former state hath been,
But what 'tis now, a Saint, more than a Queen.
Things present, and to come, nay, all are thine;
Come, merry be, drinkof the choiest Wine.
Thine honour's great, and let thy joys abound;
Chant to the Viol, hear the Organ sound;
Let the melodious Lute and Harp invite thee,
And each transcendent joy on Earth delight thee.
A sweet is, (What?) a thing reproacht, call'd Sin;
It in the bosom lies, has harbour'd bin
By chiefest Saints: O then, do not deny
The present good, that's pleasant to the Eye.
But if thou fearst thou shouldst thy Lord offend;
Observe this Rule, which I shall next commend:
Let all thy words be pleasant, smooth, and sweet,
When him thou dost in daily Duties meet.
Seem to be chast, and let no Saints espy
The smallest sign of Immoralitie.
Be grave in speech, and lowly when thou meetst them,
And call them thy dear Brethren, when thou greetst them.
And if thy Soveraign seek to have thy heart,
Let him have some, yet must the World have part.
Call him thy Friend, thy Saviour, own him so;
And to poor Saints thou must some kindness show,
Or else thy covetousness they will espy,
And thou'l be charg'd, (with what?) Idolatry.
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Amongst thy old acquaintance, (yet his Foes)
Let them know nothing, let no sentence fall
Which may discover this to them at all.
Thus having spoken briefly, be thou wise,
And with thy Friends, my Agents, now advise.
Thus ends the Old-man, and Apollyon's suit;
And the poor Soul in this assault stood mute,
Not well discerning who these thoughts did dart
Into her yielding and divided heart.
Nor hath she got that grave and good inspection
What's best to do, and where to take direction,
But goes to th' Flesh, with that doth she consult,
Which quickly brings her to a sad result.
I hitherto, saith she, have been deprest;
What shall I do, how may I be at rest?
The Flesh, or corrupt Affection.
What's the reversion of a Prince's State,When't must be purchas'd at so dear a rate?
'Tis but arriving at a seeming pitch
Of Honour, and to be conceited Rich.
If there's no way to get this promis'd Crown,
But to incur the world'ds vile scoff and frown,
With loss of life, and all we call our own;
'Twould folly be to seek for such a prize:
For what we have is pleasant in our Eyes.
A real thing, and present, as 'tis dear;
To part with it, is more than flesh can bear.
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A Medium to enjoy them both, is found;
Wherefore 'tis best in this perplexing case,
For to unite, that Counsel let's imbrace.
Hast thou forgot, or knowst thou not, mine eyes
Have been enlight'ned? let us first advise
With Judgment, lest this over-rash conclusion
Turn all our Consultations to confusion.
It would be well could we (I must confess)
Those sinful sweets and present joys possess,
Without the loss of those transcendant pleasures
That's in Jehova's unconfined Treasures.
But what if Judgment says it must not be,
Nor Truth nor Conscience with us will agree?
If so, what shall I do, what shall I choose?
Whilst I secure one, I both may loose.
The flesh, or corrupt Affection's Reply.
One word I'le briefly drop, and speak no more.Thou'st put thy case to Conscience heretofore;
And what redress pray had you, what didst gain?
Did he not gripe thee sorely for thy pain?
Wilt thou neglect so sweet advice as this?
Judgment and Conscience both may judg amiss.
But if thou lik'st it, and canst be contented,
By knawing Conscience still to be tormented;
Then I'le be silent, and improve thy skill,
Yet will I love and like where I did still.
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Would I, do'st think, have spoken the least word,
Once to dissuade thee from so just a thing?
Nay, Soul, thou oughtst, nay must respect this King:
But whilst he's absent, whilst he dwells on high,
Thou hast no other Object for thine Eye
Then these ------
Consult with Conscience, now do what you please,
But as for me I am for present ease.
| CHAP. V. The Glorious Lover | |