University of Virginia Library

A Dialogue between Faith and a Doubting Soul.

FAITH.
What joys like those which from above descend!
They know no bounds, are strangers to an end.
My comforts overflow, I sit and sing;
The night is day to me, and Winter Spring.
While others think I want, I enough have,
My heritage is good, I nothing crave.
Come, Soul, put on a smile, chase sorrow hence;
Whence flow these tears? why is this great expence
Of deep-fetcht sighs & groans? thy Saviours voice
Should clear thy brow, & make thy heart rejoice.
Husht! dost not hear't? Salvations Captain comes
With sound of Trumpets, & with beat of Drums.
'Tis not th' alarm of War; he takes thy part,
His actions all along have spoke his heart.
For thee he did engage, he fought, and di'd,
And now triumphs. All, all makes on thy side.
Himself did tell me so; be of good chear,
Away with doubtings, and defie all fear.
Shake off these causeless dumps, arise and shine;
The victory is Christs, th' advantage thine.

SOUL.
What mine? canst prove it? thou tak'st all on trust,
And so maist be deceived, try I must,
And look, and search, examine, and enquire,
Ask question after question. Yet no higher
Can I attain than to faint hopes; which cost
A thousand thousand labours; but are lost
In twinkling of an eye. I cannot rest,
Nor lasting peace enjoy. When things are best,
I am disturb'd, my sleep scarce lasts an hour,
And when I 'wake again, Lord! what a pow'r
Of sad perplexing thoughts assault my mind?
That I conclude both Heav'n and Earth combin'd
To make me miserable. Faith, speak out,
Hast thou more cause of joy, or I of doubt?

FAITH.
Thou bid'st me speak, and yet deny'st to hear;
When I unlock my lips, thou bolts thine ear.
There are such sobs and sighs, bitter bewailings,
Such weeping, wringing hands, such loud complainings,
That all my labour's lost. Alas! my skill
In vain is tri'd, for out of meer self-will
Thou spillest all my Cordials, and wilt none
Of my choice Heaven-born comforts, no, not one.
Yet since I know thy sickness, know, I do
Both pity it, and long to cure it too.
We'l argue things once more, for I don't dread
Thy reas'nings, nor the crafty Serpents head.
My cause is good, my blessed Seconds are,
(Though thou think'st otherwise) without compare.
Enter the lists then, yet the Judg shall be
Not sense, nor carnal reason, much less he
That's stil'd God of this world; these neither can
Nor will speak comfort to poor humbled man.
The Scripture I make choice of, for it is
Divine, impartial, cannot judg amiss.
Thou canst not quarrel it; and therefore say,
Say on, dejected Soul, I'le yield the day
To Fears, if Scriptures do. Objections raise,
Thou shalt have answer, and thy God the praise.

Doubt. 1.

From the apprehension of Gods Holiness.

SOUL.
Trembling takes hold upon me, when I see
A God above of spotless puritie.
The Seraphims his glory do proclaim,
And it admire, most holy is his name.
The garnisht Heavens are unclean in's sight,
The noon-day Sun is darkned by his light.
His eyes are flames of fire, piercing and pure,
Which can't the least iniquity endure.
But I am full of sin, all over stains;
From top to toe is nought but boils and blains.
My head, heart, life with sin are over-run;
Sin I did chuse, by sin I am undone.

FAITH.
Yet there is hope: a ruin'd Bankrupt may
Set up again; the night gives place to day.
Adam his beauty lost, and by one sin
Defac'd the image God had made him in.
The Nazarite became an Ethiope,
And in himself had neither help nor hope;
Yet found both in another. God prepar'd
More lasting beauty for him, and repair'd
His Image on him, and the sinner then,
Washt from his filth, waxt fresh and fair agen.
This may be done for thee, the fountain still
Stands open for all comers; whoso will
May go and bathe his sooty soul, and so
Come forth a Creature new, and white as snow.
Thy God is holy, so is Christ, and he
Hath Grace sufficient for himself and thee;
Thy wound is not incurable; thy sore
He can so heal, that it shall run no more.
Thy Maker can, O soul, form thee anew,
Thy holy God can make thee holy too.
Nay more, by Covenant he's bound t' impart
To his a spirit right, and a new heart.
Go to him then, his faithful promise plead,
And so he will richly supply thy need.

Doubt. 2.

From Gods Justice.

SOUL.
But God is just, and will not see his Law
Broken without revenge. I stand in awe,
And dread his iron-rod. Doth he not say,
The soul that sins shall die? ah! who then may
Once hope for life, since we are sinners all,
And lost our righteousness in Adam's fall.
Behold me cloth'd with rags, once but one story
Lower than Angels, who are cloth'd with glory.
These rags are filthy too, and so the shame
Which they should cover, they to all proclaim:
I do condemn my self, though self I love:
What favour then can I expect above?
The Law hath past its sentence, it doth crie,
All men are sinners, and as such shall die.
My guilt is great, my God is just, who can
Satisfie justice, and clear guilty man?

FAITH.
I have a Friend will do't. Did I say, will?
Pardon, dear Jesus: Oh, how I do fill
With joy, since I can say, he hath it done,
And God is pleas'd with thee in Christ his Son.
Thy debt was great, empty thy purse, that friend
Became thy surety, and did put an end
To the Law-suit, by saying he would pay
What thou wast charged with, upon the day
Justice should set; and when that day came, he
Paid to a farthing, and discharged thee.
The sum was great, but his far greater love
Bogled not at it, nor did he once remove
From his resolved kindness, but hath given
What did redeem lost earth, & purchase Heaven.
He laid his life down, his heart-blood he gave,
That sparing thy blood, he thy life might save.
What more can Justice ask? surely if I
Be once arrested, I'le plead, Christ did die.
If God be not appeas'd with death of God,
I will for ever bear his flaming rod.
Besides, I spi'd white linnen in his grave,
And soon concluded that I this must have.
Christ saw me naked, and then did provide
A perfect Robe my nakedness to hide.
What more is lacking? let strict Justice see;
My Saviour saith, there is no spot in me.

Doubt 3.

From the comparatively small number of Redeemed Ones.

SOUL.
I grant there is in Christ sufficient merit
To purchase Heaven, and make his inherit
Those peaceful blissful mansions, where he
Crowns all their hopes with full felicity.
His blood can make the blackest Black moor white,
And loathsome sinners lovely in Gods sight.
Of his Almighty power doubt who can,
I do believe him God as well as man.
But what of that, I hear, the number's small
For which he died. Had he dy'd for all,
I might have fill'd with comfort. But alas!
A little part of this corrupted mass
Was chosen out for honourable use,
Vessels of glory, whom the Lord did chuse
For his Cœlestial Temple; the rest will
As worthless silver be rejected still.
My reason tells me, if he would not crie
And pray for all, for all he would not die.
I fear of his dear little Flock I'm none,
Others may saved be, and I undone.

FAITH.
Be it acknowledged, that few there are,
Whom Christ redeem'd, shall in his merits share.
He saves not all the world, dy'd not for all,
Did not alike affect Judas and Paul.
Grant that, yet do not sink, the door is ope
To all that will come, 'tis a door of hope.
Christ dy'd for sinners, why then not for thee?
Either give reason, or believe with me.
Gods Decrees secret are, and who can read
His everlasting purpose? Nay what need
Of climbing Heaven, curiously to look,
Whether thy name be written in his Book?
That is a vain attempt, that course once take,
Thy soul thou'lt wound, & work for sorrow make.
There is enough in Christ, and none shall die
But such as do not to that refuge flie.
In him are safely Arkt persons unclean,
Who grievous sinners like to thee have been.
Haste thou for shelter too. Why this delay?
O soul, it must be done. Do it to day.
Wouldst thou destroy thy self? shall black despair
O'rewhelm and drown thee, now there's such a fair
And ready passage, leading to the Ark
In which thousands of thousands do imbark,
And are conveyed to a land of rest,
Where neither sin nor sorrow can molest.
Up, up, for shame, away to him with speed,
Who's call'd a Saviour, and is one indeed.
Do but go to him, yea go at a venture,
Into his gracious presence all may enter.
He never said to any, seek in vain,
All humble seekers shall his favour gain.
His promise is, if any one will rise
And make address to him, he in no wise
Will cast him off. Flee thou unto his grace,
So he in arms of love shall thee imbrace.
None e're departed empty from him. He
Is infinitely full, full out as free.
Haste to him therefore, haste, thy days do spend;
End thou thy danger, e're thy days do end.
Put in thy sickle, reap what he hath sown;
He's not thy foe, if thou be not thine own.
The invitation is, Whoever will,
Let him come hither, and here take his fill.
If thou wilt take, then Christ will give, believe;
Stretch out thy hand, he will thy wants relieve.
He is the God of Love, then to him go,
Thou canst not ask the thing he will not do.
Others have sought and found, asked and had,
Who sinners were like thee, as old, as bad.
Their good success should ease and chear thy heart,
Christ will do his, if thou wilt do thy part.

Doubt 4.

From uncertainty of interest.

SOUL.
I question still mine interest in God,
And cannot call him Father. Mine abode
Is yet in darkness, I want light to read
Mine Evidences by. Oh! could I feed
My joys with full assurance; did I know
That God is reconciled, Christ did do
And suffer all for me, I soon would chase
All sorrow hence, and with a smiling face
Look on my dearest Lord: nothing should hinder,
His love should be the spark, my heart like tinder
Should quickly kindle, and be all in flame
With love and praises to his holy name.
Thrice happy Paul could say Christ dy'd for him,
Which fill'd his soul with joy up to the brim.
Did I know that, my comforts would run o're;
I'd sit and sing, but sigh and sob no more.

FAITH.
Dost thou desire to know it? Look within.
Is no discov'ry made? then look agen.
Beg light from Heaven when 'tis dark below;
Thou shalt know, if thou follow on to know.
Christ dy'd for all in whom he lives, make out
His living in thee, and thou needst not doubt.
If thou canst say, O Lord, my heart is thine;
Thou well maist say, O Lord, thy death is mine.
He enters no House, but he sprinkles first
The Door-posts of it with that blood which burst
Out of his precious side. That sincere love,
Which glows within thy breast, came from above,
And is a sweet reflection of that fire
And purer flame in him, and doth aspire
To its own Element; 'twill carry thee
To that blest place, where is no room for me.
Cease groundless fears, God will not him deny
That saith, Lord give me Christ, or else I dye.
Deal faithfully in thine own case, and own
With thankfulness what God for thee hath done.
Thou canst not choose but say, many a time
Christ hath himself shewn willing to be thine.
Thou dost accept him, dost not? Then all's done,
The match is made, and Jesus is thine own.
God saith, wilt have my Son? thou say'st, yea Lord,
Be it to me according to thy word;
His Love and Law also, both I would have,
His Peace without his Grace I do not crave.
I am as willing he in me should reign,
As that by him I happiness may gain.
Let this be thy return, for so shall he
Fill thee with grace, and Heaven with such as thee.

Doubt 5.

From inward Corruptions.

SOUL.
With such as me! believ't who will; I can't,
Whoever enters Heaven, sure I shan't.
Nought that defiles shall thither come; that place
Is fill'd with Glory for Souls fill'd with Grace.
But mine is stuff'd with sin, numberless evils,
Ill thoughts, affections, Legions of Devils,
Haunt and inhabit here. Lord! what a pow'r
Of lusts are crawling in it every hour!
I never set my self to look within,
But I discover filthy heaps of sin.
Did others see what I do, they with shame
And scorn would shun me; I disgrace that name
Which graceth me, Christ's holy name I bear.
Him I profess, his Livery I wear,
With him I live, his word I hear, yet feel
No yielding to him in this heart of Steel.
Filthy I was, and so am still; How can
An holy Christ dwell in so foul a man?
Sure he his habitation sweepeth clean;
There are not in his Temple heaps of sin.
Sin dies in him that liveth; therefore I
Have no true life, not finding sin to dye.

FAITH.
Sin is in thee. But is there nothing more?
There may be Grace, though of corruption store.
In midst of enemies thy Saviour reigns,
And of those enemies still ground he gains.
That mighty one hath girt his Sword to's side,
And conquering, to conquer he doth ride.
Thou feelest thy corruptions are rife,
Such feeling is a mercy, sign of life.
Dead men feel nothing, load them, load again,
They do not groan, they do not once complain.
It's well when sin doth trouble and molest,
Which did thee please; for Christ hath promis'd rest
To heavy-laden souls; nor is he slack
To take that burden off which galls thy back.
He will not pass thee by, because so ill;
Thou art the fitter for his Sov'reign skill.
A good Phisician overlooks the sound,
And goes where sicknesses do most abound.
Hate and abhor thy sins, thy self bemoan;
If sin lose love, it cannot keep the throne.
Where 'tis endear'd it lives, loathed it dies.
Christ at one time humbles and sanctifies.
As for the stirrings of thy lust, at most,
They'r but death pangs, it shall give up the Ghost.
Sampson did at his death make greatest sport.
The Devils rage grows high, when's time is short.
Be thou so wise in th' case which thou art in,
As to discern 'twixt reign and rage of sin.
What speak thy bleeding heart, & weeping eyes?
Sure this, that sin don't reign but tyrannize.
Danger of death is past, because I see
By these complainings, sin doth die in thee.

Doubt. 6.

From want of Godly sorrow.

SOUL.
Could I indeed mourn kindly, then at last
I'd think the bitterness of death were past.
Could I with weeping mingle all my drink,
Or make my bed to swim; could I so think
On my corruptions, as to dissolve
Into a flood of tears, I should resolve
My doubts, and banish fears. Were e're a vein
Of godly sorrow breath'd, 'twould ease my pain.
Then I should smile at table, rest in bed,
A bleeding heart would cure an aking head.
But mine, alas! is stupid, brawnie, dry
Will scarce afford a tear, will scarce supply
Me with desired groans; sometimes I see
My brethren furnisht with a treasurie,
Or ocean of tears. How soon can they
With laden clouds o'recast their clearest day!
One thought of Christ, or word of sin doth make
Their eyes run over, and their hearts to ake.
I can't command a drop, when they have store;
And therefore grieve 'cause I can grieve no more.

FAITH.
Poor soul! oh that thy head were waters, and
Thy chamber Bochim. Oh! that a command
Would sweetly break thine heart, and make it melt,
Feeling such sorrow as it never felt.
I wish that these dry cheeks bedew'd may be
With tears for him that shed his blood for thee.
They would be Aqua vitæ, gen'rous wine,
Quickly reviving this faint heart of thine.
Those tears would drown thy sorrow, & that rain
Would make the inward chaps to close again.
Well, take a turn upon that fatal mount
Where Christ was crucifi'd, and there recount
His pressing sorrows; there behold the Sun
Of Righteousness eclips'd, and having run
His race of life, setting at last in dark,
Wrapt up in clouds, stand still a while and hark
How deep his sighs were fetcht in that black night,
Who brought for us immortal life to light.
His soul was sorrowful, ev'n unto death.
Yet in that sorrow not the smallest breath
Of comfort reacht him; he was fain to 'bide
The rage of enemies; nay God did hide.
Men reak'd their rage, his Father too did pour
His wrath upon him in the self-same hour.
And all this for thy sin; lay that to heart,
Thou did'st transgress, and he endur'd the smart.
Dwell on these thoughts, for sure a Saviour's groan
May pierce and mollifie an heart of stone.
Repeated thoughts, that God did him forsake,
May kindly work, and cause thy heart to ake.
Since Peter wept with one cast of Christs eye,
Thou mai'st to hear him say, for thee I die.
Yet measure not repentance by thy tears.
Sorrow is deepest when it least appears.
Don't always judg of inward sorrows by
The tongue complaining, or the weeping eye.
For full-charg'd vessels frequently run least,
Through want of vent, so doth the heart opprest.
Many have words, yea tears too at their will,
Who Christ rejecting hug their Idols still.
Esau did weep, and yet could find no place
For wisht repentance, nor for saving grace.
Again, there may true Penitents be found
O'rewhelm'd with grief, with brinish tears not drown'd.
Some mens complexions are hot, and they
Buckets of water must needs want to lay
The fire that burns within, whilst others are
So full of moisture, they've enough to spare.
Grace sanctifieth, and makes better, yet
Natures defects are not suppli'd by it.
Divers affections too are in the heart,
Now one, anon another acts its part.
Thy grief once wrought, and then thou couldst have stood.
Under Christs Cross, till thou had'st wept a flood.
Holy revenge now is upon the stage,
And prosecutes with never-ending rage
The murderer, that Christ did crucifie,
And nothing but its blood will satisfie.
Despond not then, O soul, that sacred fire
Of holy anger (which shall not expire
Upon the altar of thine heart) doth dry
That dew which once upon thy cheeks did lie.
Come, dost thou feel the heavy weight of sin?
Wouldst give a world, there were not one within?
Is that thy misery, thy plague, thy sore?
Wouldst willingly offend thy God no more?
If God should bid thee ask a boon, wouldst cry,
Lord, that my soul might live; my sin might die?
Canst part with Delilah? canst Agag hew,
Thy Kingly-darling-lust, canst bid adieu
To all the Idols of thine heart? then he
Who dy'd for sinners, also dy'd for thee.
That sense of sin, those inward pains that cause
A man to loath himself, yield to Christs laws,
The Gospel calls enough. Do thou not cover
One of thy sins, God will them all pass over.
What e're is wanting in thy tears, Christs blood
To th' utmost will supply, and make it good.
Huge mountainous transgressions of man
Small rivers cannot hide, but th' Ocean can.

Doubt 7.

From spiritual unfruitfulness.

SOUL.
But my heart is a barren soil: that lays
My comforts dead; did I fill up my days,
Place and Relations; ah! did I find
A fruitful soul, I should not faint in mind.
I cannot weep, yet if my work went on,
Were this my straitned heart enlarg'd to run
The ways of Gods Commandments, then my peace
Would like a river be, and still increase.
Abundant fruits of holiness would be
Proofs of my love to God, Gods love to me.
God justly doth expect from every one
Returns of love and duty. There is none
Deserves a servants name, unless he do
Perform the work his master sets him to.
God likes not idle drones, that drink and eat
At others cost, and live on others sweat.
His people are industrious, and can say,
Lord we our work have finisht in our day.
Whereas mine lieth dead upon my hand,
While time flies swiftly, I do idle stand.
Many commands before me present are,
But where's obedience? if I compare
My life with God's law, I most plainly see,
Of much that should, little is done by me.
I stand and wonder at my Masters cost,
Then sit down sighing, when I think all lost.

FAITH.
Suppose it true, that little fruit is found
Upon thy branches; thou dost not abound
In service; though thy reck'ning-day doth haste,
Yet days for working do run out to waste.
The best of servants oft have cause to say,
I have not done a days-work in a day.
But what's thy duty now? sure not to throw
All hope away, and utterly undo
Thy precious high-born soul by black despair;
Rather mend former faults by future care.
Is one day gone, and yet its work not done?
Then if thou canst, do two days work in one.
And having been too too remiss before,
Double thy diligence, and strive the more.
Didst sleep away thy golden morning hours?
Then in the afternoon call up the pow'rs
Of soul and body, working each amain,
Not leaving till thy losses thou regain.
This doth become a Christian, not to sit
Doubting and drooping only in a fit
Of Melancholy, which his comfort kills,
And him with spiritual distempers fills.
But is't a just charge which thou dost put in
Against thy self, poor soul! O do not sin
In false-accusing; act not Satan's part
To make him all the sport, thy self the smart.
Let the best laden branches hang the head.
Be thankful for some fruit, the tree's not dead
That hath one cluster. Though more would do well,
Out of that one thou mai'st a blessing spell.
Acknowledg what thy God to thee hath been,
And overlook not thy returns to him.
Thankfully own receipts of Grace; withall
Do not disown thy gracious acts, though small.
There's no day thou dost all thy work; but pray
Dost not do something for God ev'ry day?
Canst thou pass one without an holy thought,
And thankful mindfulness of him that brought
Thee up from th' womb? canst for the world be free
Without some intercourse 'twixt God & thee?
Tell me the truth; where hast bestow'd thy love,
Unless upon thy dearest friends above?
Whom dost desire? whose absence dost bemoan,
Like that of God, who is thine only one?
In Ordinances thou dost most delight;
And would'st do all thy duties with thy might.
Now springs a sigh, then drops a pearly tear;
Here's grief for sin, longings for God be there.
Call this good fruit; thou hast not barren been,
Something thou findest, more remains unseen.
All Saints do not improve alike; some yield
A larger crop than others. Every field
Bears not an equal burden. Some Saints prove
More fertile than their Brethren, and their love
Being stronger is more active; ne'rtheless
Not one doth know a total barrenness.
The Father purgeth every branch that is
Truly in Jesus, so that none doth miss
Wholly of bearing. And if now small store
Of holy fruit, there may next year be more.
Besides thou readest, Christians life is hid;
So are their vital acts sometimes. Who did
Discover ought in David, while the fall
Of leaf was on him: ah! how sadly all
His graces lay for dead! the sap in's root
Yet rose again, and brought forth precious fruit.
Be not discourag'd, God will not despise
A day of small things. In his gracious eyes
Blossoms are acceptable; if there be
One little cluster, Oh! how sweetly he
Doth smile upon it! 'tis his holy will,
It should not be destroyed, because still
There is a blessing in it. If God do
Own poor beginnings, see thou own them too.

Doubt 8.

From want of Growth.

SOUL.
Where grace is true, it thrives. The rising Sun
Doth with a swift incessant motion run,
Until he reacheth the Meridian.
At last the tender Infant is a man.
Thus 'tis in nature, thus in grace; the way
of just men shineth to the perfect day.
At first they live, after they lively grow,
Add grace to grace till they a fulness know.
From strength to strength they do advance, until
They before God appear in Zion-hill.
They flourish in his holy Courts, and do
Improve in youth, and in their old age too.
The outward man is subject to decay,
But th' inward man's renewed day by day.
So should it be with me, who sit and feed
At a full table, where I nothing need.
Yet though I keep my meals, and eat my fill,
There's cause to cry, Ah Lord, my leanness still!
I have the Sun-shine, and the fat'ning rain
Of Gospel-Doctrine, but yet nothing gain.
I suck the flowers of truth, thereby to thrive,
Yet carry little honey to my Hive.
Others began since me with Heaven to trade,
Better advantage yet by far have made.
When I my spiritual strength or stock do trie,
I do at first weakness and wants espie.
Look what an one I was sometime ago,
Just such I am; my Stature's very low.
My hand of faith yet trembles, and mine eye
Sees very dim, the Gospel mysterie
I can scarce peep into; my love is chill.
My patience hardly brooketh any ill,
My zeal for God is cold. Flat my desire.
My heart is ice, which should be all on fire.
Thus it was formerly, thus it is now,
I am but what I was, and do not grow
Which want of progress makes me sadly fear
I am not what to others I appear.

FAITH.

Doubt 9.

From wandring Thoughts.

SOUL.
Another vexing thorn and pricking briar
Is, that my fluttering mind can mount no higher
In holy duties. When I up would flie,
Upon the earth my heart doth groveling lie.
Or if sometimes it be upon the wing,
It doth not stay above; but every thing
Allures it down again. Trifles divert
This foolish, worldly, and unstable heart;
And draw it from Gods service, when I'd fain
Keep close to him. There is cause to complain;
Evil is present with me when I wou'd
Walk with my Father, and do what is good.
My reason tells me, One present with God
Seeing his Scepter, and his Iron-rod;
One that such mercies hath humbly to crave,
As that God pardon would, accept and save.
One that 'doth see the sinfulness of sin,
And doth desire to conquer all within.
One that doth know the plague of his own heart,
And hath been made to feel its dreadful smart.
One that hath looked down into the deep,
And fears his own damnation doth not sleep.
One that for life prays, and cœlestial pleasure,
With endless glory, should not be at leisure
Any divertisements that time to own,
He from such weighty work should not come down.
But my inconstant spirit's drawn aside
By every fawning trifle; can't abide
To stick to serious work, or dwell upon
Its own concerns by meditation.
Though to a boiling heat my heart be wrought;
Yet even then many an idle thought
Will bubble up: In midst of fervent cries,
A filthy and most lothsome scum doth rise.
Methinks, when I most gladly do repair
To hear Gods Word, 'tis pleasant to be there;
That duty's my delight, fain would I sit
A daily Learner at my Saviour's feet.
All earthly business I lay by, and go
Where I may know him whom 'tis life to know.
But while my greedy ear to him I bow,
My heart is stoln away I know not how,
Carri'd I know not where, but moan my cross
In fullest chase to find my self at loss.
So when in sense of sin or want I pray
And put up my petitions, I lay
Strict charge upon my soul to go along,
And with affections to back my tongue.
But a temptation comes, and knocks at dore,
And then my fickle heart will pray no more.
Up then it gets, and strait away doth run,
Its heat is spent before my suit is done.
What ground is there for hope I prosper may,
When frequently in prayer I don't pray.
I greatly fear, my heart from wickedness
Is not yet washt, since vanities do press
Continually into 't, and quickly find
Most ready welcome with my vainer mind.

FAITH.
Christian, this ev'n thy soul-distempers speaks;
'Tis sure, thy heart hath too too many leaks,
Which sacred things let out, and then let in
Satans suggestions, the world, and sin.
All is not as it should be, in this life
Grace will imperfect be, corruptions rise.
Mourn therefore that this Cabinet of thine
Framed by Gods own hand for things divine,
And to be fill'd with Christ and Grace should be
Thus stufft with dross, and dung, and vanitie.
Our souls our glory are, on purpose made
To carry on a never ceasing trade
With Heaven, and upon their God attend,
Like Angels in his presence without end.
Grieve then that thine thus should the Lacquey play
On every toy that summons it away.
Let mourning upon wanderings attend,
Sadly bewail what yet thou canst not mend.
But be not out of heart, these spots are seen
On Gods own children, that have washed been
In Christs most precious blood. All of them do
Hate wandring thoughts, and yet they have them too.
That soul which upon Christ is fixt in love,
May in its duties often fluttering prove.
Wandrings either from carelesness procede,
Or unto them meer weakness doth thee lead.
If carelesness be cause of them, thy God
Will visit for them with a smarting rod.
If they arise only from weakness, he
Will never charge those failings upon thee.
He is a Father, with loves mantle can
Hide multitudes of such in humbled man.
The child is troubled with a Palsie, and
Cannot hold fast what he hath in his hand.
His Father is not angry with him sure,
But first him pities, then looks out for cure.
God is a Father too, none such, and so
Accepteth what thou dost with weakness do.
Know further, this is not thy case alone,
On this side Heaven of all the Saints there's none
But will with sadness say, Just so am I:
This is the burden under which I lie.
When they mount upward unto God, they feel
Their weaker minds all on a sudden wheel,
And downward rowl again. Though Heaven be
Their Element, place of felicitie,
Yet like to fishes in the water, they
E're and anon frisk out in wanton play.
Then do not with despair thy self bemoan,
Thy case is sad, but not thy case alone.
Let that be thy support, in misery
It is some comfort to have company.
Further, I know, as vanity doth mix
With thy best duties, when thou wouldest fix
Only on God, and bid'st all things be gone,
That thou mai'st please thy self with him alone;
So as these cheating vanities do steal
Some of thy precious time; thy soul doth feel
(In midst of this incroaching worlds affairs
Which fills thy mind with many thoughts and cares,)
Secret withdrawings of thine heart from all,
Holy ascendings at thy Father's call.
As there are heavy weights that do depress
And bear thee down in solemn services:
So there's a mighty principle of love,
Which sweetly carrieth thy soul above.
When other things needs would it here detain,
Upon that mighty wing it flies amain.
And when 'tis fetter'd with the world, what smart
Dost feel until (those fetters broke) thou art
Again restor'd to spiritual libertie,
And made for holy meditation free.
If Satan and the world have crouded in
To Church and Closet, cheer up, God hath been
With thee in house and street. This wandring heart
Out of its six days hath carv'd God apart.
As in thy purest manchet there is leaven,
So in thy daily bread there's some of Heaven.
But since, O Soul thy stay with God is short,
See that to him thou frequently resort.
Do not thy thoughts with him abide? be sure
Long absence from him thou do not endure.
Thy head indeed is weak, thy grace not strong,
Pray therefore oft, because thou canst not long.
While others visit once, do thou go twice;
Thy falls are frequent, frequent be thy rise.
Thy duties interrupted are, this do,
Piece duty unto duty, mend all too.
Since all thy lambs are blemisht, without fail
Of all thy flock offer to God the male.
And since thy thoughts wiil from thee often part,
Be sure in all thy work there be thy heart.
And know, this weakness shall be cur'd, God will
Give thee of fellowship with him thy fill
When once thou com'st to Heaven, thou shalt be
Fixed upon him to eternitie.
He that is thy desire and thy delight,
Shall minded be, and serv'd with all thy might.
Thy thoughts and thy affections shall come
And dwell on him their everlasting home.
Thine enemies shall all away be flown,
Temptation there sha'nt be, corruption none.
Thine heart shall then be rais'd, and no more fall
To earth or sin, God shall be all in all.
Grieve not too much, though here thou wander still,
Thou shalt not wander, when up Zion-hill.

Doubt 10.

From fear of Apostacy.

SOUL.
I know if I were there, I soon should be
Eas'd of these loads, and from corruption free.
No Devil's there to tempt, sin to perplex,
No clog to hinder, Canaanite to vex.
All is serene and pleasant, all delight;
Withdrawings there are none, no clouds, no night.
There sights of God are clear, communion sure,
Uninterrupted, always to endure.
But I uncertain am, and sadly fear,
I shall my labour lose, and not come there.
Heaven I mind for Gods sake, 'tis the scope
Of all mine actions, yet I dare not hope
At last to reach it; no, I may fall short,
And be the Angels scorn, and Devils sport.
Experience tells me, if at any time
I plead a title, and call glory mine,
Strait I receive a check, because it is
So difficult to get, easie to miss.
I have indeed been walking in the way;
That thither leads, some steps I take each day.
I for salvation pray, and wrestling groan,
Resolved not to let my God alone
Until he bless me. Prayer is the thing
That to me doth my sweetest comforts bring.
Unto the Church I go, the Word I hear,
As 'tis Gods Word, with reverence and fear.
I daily stand upon my guard, and do
Watch against sin, as my most mortal foe:
I put on all my armour, and maintain
A constant war with all, thereby to gain
The victory at length over each one,
And sit triumphant on my Saviour's throne.
I labour with my might, if so I may
Commended be by God another day.
I make what haste I can, that so I might
Reach safely to my Father's house by night.
By this means I have got near Heaven, and
From Pisgah can look to the holy land.
But what of this? many an one hath lost
All his profession, his pains and cost.
Not only buds are nipt, which tender are,
But lovely blossoms, which did promise fair,
Are blasted with the cold and winds. Nay more,
Oft have I seen the earth thick sown with store
Of fruit near ripe, which in a Summers morn
A furious tempest hath blown down with scorn.
Many a stately Ship, the owners pride,
Backt at its setting forth with wind and tide,
Hath swiftly plow'd the Main, and safely past,
Trading from Port to Port, until at last,
It doth return rich fraught, and every one
Sweetly discourseth of his long'd for home,
And Wife, and Children, with his Friends, that do
Long every whit as much to see him too:
The Mariners conclude their danger o're,
The Merchants smile, & dread their loss no more;
Yet near the Haven it is cast away,
And by the mighty waters made a prey.
When all thought with success their labour crown'd,
The Ship is sunk, goods lost, and Seamen drown'd.
With many in Religion thus it is,
Who aim at Heaven, but of Heaven miss.
Their lives are blameless, & their hopes are high,
Yet when their days are done, their hopes do die.
To day they think all well; but on the morrow
Death summons them, & down they lie in sorrow.
Thus did the foolish Virgins at last get
Unto the Bridegrooms chamber-door, and yet
No entrance could obtain. This was their doom,
I know you not, depart, here is no room
For such as you. Pack, pack out of my sight,
Your vessels want their oil, your lamps their light.
The young man went a great way, and got near
To Heaven, but fell short, and ne're came there:
Admir'd the progress, terrible the falls
Have been of some professed Saints, which calls
Loudly on all to fear, lest in the close
Of all their labours they their labour lose.
Of such why may not I, poor I be one,
Who after all their doings are undone.
Such are the workings of mine heart, I do
Watch daily, ply mine oar, and tremble too.
I have made fair beginnings, but do fear,
Unto the end I shall not persevere.
Some weight may press me down, some sin beset
And with ease master my affections, get
A conquest over me, clap on its chain,
From which I never may get loose again.
As yet I do proceed as I began,
But may be driven back by fear of man.
My zeal now seemeth hot, but cool it may
Upon the sight of Lions in the way.
And how shall I appear? or with what face
Can I look upon God? if in this race
I tire or turn my back; since it is sure,
Apostate Christians he cannot endure.
Better it had been never to have known
Pure ways of righteousness, than to disown
And leave them afterward; none sink in Hell
Deeper than those fall from a Pinacle.
Many from thence have tumbled, why not I?
Whose head is weak, whose standing slipperie.
Who every foot am ready to turn o're,
Religion to throw up, and do no more.
The footmen weary me, what shall I do,
When I am call'd to run with horsemen too?
If in a land of peace I fainted have,
How shall I live on Jordans swelling wave?

FAITH.
Apostacy indeed's a dreadful evil,
Transforming man into an ugly Devil.
Blind Turks and Heathens jewels are, if we
Compare them with those that Apostates be.
Hells first-born these are, Satans eldest sons,
And shall receive their double portions
Of plagues and miseries; God will repay
In punishment their falshood at that day
Which he appointed hath, when for what's done
By men, he men will judg by Christ his Son.
Oft these are found within the Churches line;
Oft seeming sheep have proved sordid swine.
Some that were thought furnisht with oil enough
To feed their lamps, have ended in a snuff.
Some that seem'd orient stars of light do fail,
And down are drag'd by th' fiery Dragons tail.
Demas forsook that Paul he followed;
Shewing thereby, he only borrowed
The Christian name himself a while to grace,
Which done, he did the flattering world embrace.
But know the fruit which falls, though 'twas before
Lovely in skin, was rotten at the core.
Members that seem'd alive, and now are dead,
Never united were to Christ the head.
Hangby's they were, and base pretenders, who
Mystical union unto Christ ne'r knew.
False grace is always failing grace; the sound,
Instead of failing shall still more abound.
Not that this holy firmness doth proceed
Or spring from natures power in Abra'ms seed,
Or from the grace in them, that's but a creature,
And might be master'd soon, were not a greater
And alsufficient strength by God put out,
Which doth maintain their ground, prevent their rout.
Even Peters faith had fail'd, had not Christ pray'd
And also secretly afforded aid.
Saints eminent (if God withdraw his hand
For one poor moment from them) cannot stand.
Should he with-hold his influence, they die;
Should he leave them, they soon would him deny.
Angels themselves would fall, but that they be
By grace confirm'd in their felicitie.
Much more would Adam's seed, who have within
Back-sliding principles, and seeds of sin.
They soon would God forsake, and soon undo
The Cov'nant made to love and serve him too.
The root they do not bear, the root bears them,
They are both holy Saints, and sinning men.
Undone thou soon wouldst be, if God should take
Away his Spirit, and thy soul forsake.
By thine own strength, O man, thou dost not stand;
But thy dear Father is at thy right hand,
Holding thee up, and he will carry thee
In arms of love to blest eternitie.
Thy Cistern leaks, but it shall not be dry,
Because the upper springs will send supply.
Dangers and clouds shall vanish; God shall be
An everlasting Sun and shield to thee.
Consider in how much thou Christ hast stood,
Not one whit less than his most precious blood.
For thee his Head with thorns was crown'd, his side
Was pierc'd, for thee he sweat, he bled, he di'd.
And will he cast away a soul, that cost
So great a price as this? shall that be lost
Which he prefer'd before his life? no, he
Will be his purchas'd Saints securitie.
His own thou art, with thee he will not part,
Who once didst cost his blood, still hast his heart,
Thou art a member of his body, one
Part of his fulness, and he'l part with none
Of them or that, but will them save and love;
Christ will not be a maimed Christ above.
Nay more, he stands oblig'd. His Father gave
A people to him, that he might them save.
He is accountable for every one:
Must raise them all at last day, losing none.
Yea, and in such a state he must them raise,
As they may be unto his name a praise.
Now in pursuance of his Father's will,
He that hath always kept, will keep thee still.
And therefore he hath promis'd to impart
His fear unto thee, and write in thine heart
His sacred law, that though thou mai'st be tri'd
With fierce assaults, none of thy steps may slide.
He in himself hath laid up all thy store,
And if thou little hast, he'l give thee more.
Adam thy father had a pow'r to stand,
Which pow'r was wholly plac'd in his own hand,
But he did quickly lose the stock that was
Committed to him; hence Christ will not pass
All thine estate to thee at once, lest thou
Run out of all, and prove a beggar too.
Himself thy fulness is, and therefore sure,
He being rich, thou never shalt be poor.
So poor as to depend, thou still shalt be,
But never know undoing povertie.
Eden was once indeed fill'd with more grace,
Or rather holiness, yet that sweet place
Was never so secure, as is thy Ark,
Thy floating little cock-boat now; for mark,
God is its skilful Pilot, constant stay,
Who by his spirit steereth night and day
Its course; upholding, strengthening thee likewise,
When tempests rage, & threatning waves arise.
Thus chear thy self, when thou dost fear to fall,
Remembring God will be thine all in all,
Thy rock and refuge, thy treasure and guard,
Who keepeth for thee constant watch and ward.
His eye doth neither slumber, nor once sleep,
He keepeth Israel, and thee doth keep.
He is no land of darkness, barren heath,
His everlasting arms are underneath.
He knows full well when ought would thee annoy;
Will always be thy comfort and thy joy.
Do thou thy duty, and then know that God
Will with his staff support thee, with his rod
Will guide thy steps, until at last thou be
Above a sinning possibility.

Doubt 11.

From Satans Temptations.

SOUL.
If God my keeper were, I should not doubt
My spiritual safety, nor my holding out.
Mine enemies should fall, and I should be
At peace, because in full securitie.
Jachin and Boaz I'd my pillars call,
Did God make his Salvation my wall.
The Lion should not rend, nor Serpent bite,
Because he watcheth his both day and night.
But sure the Lord hath left me, for I feel
The Serpent always nibling at my heel.
I now am walking in a wilderness,
Where Lion's always roaring more or less.
Hardly a day doth pass, nay scarce an hour,
But Satan doth assault me with his power.
With utmost rage the mighty gates of Hell
Assault and storm my crazie Cittadel.
And how is't possible, poor I should be
An equal match for such an enemie?
What may a worm do? what resistance can
Be made by foolish weak and naked man?
Alas, I quake and tremble every hour,
Expecting when he will my soul devour.
Now he doth play with me, and my fears feed
His mirth; me at his pleasure he can lead
An helpless captive, hurrying me to sin;
He can me post to th' torments he is in.
Great is his strength, and numberless his wiles,
Many his famous conquests, trophies, spoils.
Run through the world, sinners & Saints compare,
You'l see, the greatest part falls to his share.
Here he hath spread a net, there set a gin,
Thousands of thousands are intrapt therein.
Of men, the most he orders at his pleasure,
His sport he makes them, when he's most at leisure.
He knows and is assur'd they are his own;
If but a bait be laid, the work is done,
They'r caught, his hook sticks, and they caanot free
Themselves from sin, nor him, nor misery.
Lord of this world he is, whom they adore,
Fear him they do, and yet they love him more.
Nay, he'l encounter any, he fears none;
But counts himself a match for ev'ry one.
Those that are built on the eternal rock,
And stand immovable, have felt his shock.
Experience tells us, that those Saints who be
Strongest in grace are not temptation free.
Adam in Paradise (though perfect, and
Armed with strength sufficient to withstand
All foreign force, and bravely keep the field)
Was set upon, and set upon did yield.
So did this subtle enemy undo
A world of men in one man at a blow.
That first attempt succeeded to his heart;
Since, he is grown a master in the Art
Of tempting; at the first he had his will;
Six thousand years have much increas'd his skill.
That victory did flesh him, ever since.
He is courag'ous, bids fear get it hence.
He set on David, Joshua the Priest
(When in Gods presence) found he had not ceast
From troubling Saints. Although Job did outshine
All men on earth that lived in his time,
He could not be at quiet. This foul Fiend
Desir'd on him his sharp'ned darts to spend.
Paul was a valiant champion, yet still
On him the Devil needs would try his skill.
He had his buffets, and in's flesh a thorn;
And had not help come, had been overborn.
Saints then he troubles, and of all there's none
Reacht Heaven but through sore temptation.
Yea, as he hath defi'd the blessed Host
Of great Jehov', so he can likewise boast
Of his assaulting Christ their chief; he did
Not only bruise the heel, but strike the head.
This beast of prey hath set upon the sheep,
And on the shepherd too that doth them keep.
And what, shall I, fighting with such a foe,
Hope to make good my ground, & worst him too?
Shall I victorious be, and cause to flie
Those troops of Devils that in ambush lie,
And have a party too in mine own breast,
By which I am continually opprest?
Mine own corruptions do me betray
To their temptations oft ev'ry day.
How can it be, that I who thus beset
Am with such en'mies, should the conquest get?
I can't believe it, for it cannot be:
The strength of Hell and sin's too strong for me.

FAITH.
Be of good courage, dread not Satans might,
By Christ thou listed art, resolve to fight.
He of Salvation the Captain is:
Do what he bids, thou canst not do amiss.
Put on thine armour, man, one piece and other,
From head to foot it will thee safely cover.
Only there is no back-piece: such as flie
Lose their defence, then either fight or die.
Gird on thy sword, and Faith take for thy shield,
So shall the Devil flie, thou keep the field.
Hath he his trophies by him? doth he tell
Of captives he hath led in chains to Hell?
Hath he near fill'd his prison? and made sure
Of thousands that did think themselves secure,
And out of gun-shot? what! doth he recall
To mind with triumph, David's, Peter's fall?
Remember how Goliah did defie
Israels army; but proud fool did die
By a young striplings hand; a little stone
Did turn his vapours to a dying groan.
And in thy fainting-fits remember how
Blaspheming Rabshakeh did brave it too;
With a profane foot on the holy land
By fair Jerusalem's walls he did stand
Crying, Where are the gods of Hamath? where
Ivah's and Sepharvaim's gods? were there
Any of them could my great power withstand,
Or keep Samaria from Assyria's hand?
But what of that, one Angel in one night
Did near Two hundred thousand slay outright.
All were dead corpses, when next morn men rose,
And so in fear away Sennacherib goes.
That God who thus the pow'rs on earth did quell,
Knows how to do the same to th' gates of Hell.
Poor weaklings have through him stood out the shock,
And being built on the eternal Rock,
Laugh'd Beelzebub to scorn; assisted by
Christs strength, babes win the day, and make him flie.
Cedars have tumbled, when a bruised reed
Hath stood unbroken. The immortal seed
Once sown, shall root & grow, though Satan fain
Would be at work to pick it up again.
The first of Creatures he did make to fall;
But the new Creature shall stand after all;
Yea, after all's attempts, and shall at length
With triumph say, My soul th'ast trod down strength.
In mad Bravadoe he did Christ engage,
But thereby lost his pow'r, though not his rage.
He of his Holiness long'd to bereave him,
But when his worst was done, was forc'd to leave him.
And then was vanquisht, spoil'd; see, see his loss,
Which openly was shewn upon the Cross.
E're since the Lion's muzzl'd, roar he may,
But cannot make the meanest Saint his prey.
With his own filthy swine he may be bold,
He there hath leave, but must not touch the fold,
Nor seize a lamb thereof; or if he dare,
Our watchful David in his tender care
Steps in and makes a rescue. Jesus will
Be, as his name imports, a Saviour still.
David his Type appointed was to keep
And tend his aged Father Jess's sheep,
A Lion and a Bear to thin his stock,
Did take a tender Lamb out of the flock;
Then David kill'd the Lion, slew the Bear.
A greater far than David, Soul, is here.
David thy Shepherd is, the mighty God,
Who in his hand carrieth an Iron rod,
With which he can in pieces break with ease
Any devourer that his Lambs would seize.
Thou mai'st be tempted, Satan is not ty'd
From worrying thee; Gold in the fire is tri'd;
And so is Grace, the more thou hast, the more
Will Satan envy thee; thy well-known store
Doth tempt him thee to plunder, and to cheat:
'Twas Peter he would winnow as the wheat.
But Christ thy Captain hath him in a chain;
When he gives him a Link, he can again
At pleasure draw him in, and shut him up
In his own proper place, and make him sup
On flames of wrath, when he had thought to dine
And feast himself on this poor soul of thine.
Under authority he is, can't go
One step without permission, cannot do
Ought without leave from Christ, who is so dear
Over thine interest, thou need'st not fear.
Engage thou never dost, but he stands by,
Ready to help in thy necessity.
When Peter wounded was, and going over
Unto the en'mies tent, Christ did recover
Him with one gracious look; so did he save
His precious soul, and kept him from the grave.
This he will do for all that do him own,
Of those the Father gave him, he'l lose none.
For he hath promised, that they shall be
Crowned at last with happy victorie.
Wherefore the combat do thou not refuse.
For God thy God this enemy shall bruise
Under thy foot, and when his worst is done,
By the Lambs blood thou shalt him overcome.
And as a conquerour in Heaven dwell,
When this dire foe shall be confin'd to Hell.

Doubt 12.

From Afflictions.

SOUL.
I'le name but one thing more which doth create
Perplexing thoughts, and very much abate
The vigour of my joy, who fain would grace
My high profession with a smiling face.
Afflictions manifold attend upon,
Just as its shadow, pure Religion.
With inward gain is joined outward loss;
Before a Crown we must expect a Cross.
Disciples must stoop down and take it up,
Pledging their Saviour in his bitter cup.
All things uncertain are under the Moon;
These comforts quickly spring, wither as soon.
Estates are bubbles, broke as soon as blown,
We hardly know what thing to call our own.
Job was a great man, did not want for ought,
And yet was quickly to a dunghill brought.
Poor Jonah in his gourd did much delight;
But Jonah's gourd was blasted in a night.
All are uncertain, Saints more so, who stand
Compast with enemies on ev'ry hand,
And when for nothing they deserv'd the rod,
Have suffer'd for the matters of their God.
Because to their Religion firm they stood,
Home they have been sent through a Sea of blood.
Walk through the world, in ev'ry place you'l find
The men of earth against the Saints combin'd;
Consult the Ages past, and read their story,
You'l see Gods children went through shame to glory.
And 'tis not easie for us to deny
Our life, our peace, or our prosperity.
The young man at this stumbling-block did fall,
He'd rather part with Christ, than part with all.
And many have at first fairly set out,
Who, when the storm waxt great, have tackt about.
Christ they esteem'd far less than an Estate,
And would not have him at too dear a rate.
Christ and pleasures are good, Christ & earth too,
But they thought Christ alone would never do.
Now who can tell, what we may meet before
Our journey ended is, and time no more?
Though now we fallow lie, yet plowers may
Make long their furrows on our back one day:
And in those furrows may, my little store
Of seeming-grace be buried, rise no more.
If God should leave me, ah! how soon should I
Desert his cause, and from my colours flie.
In Sun-shine-days 'tis nothing not to fear,
And challenge enemies when none appear.
It's nothing to be good, when seeming so
Brings credit with it, and preferment too.
Who would not hug a Christ, when hugging him
We may in Pleasures river daily swim?
But it is difficult for one to crie
Hosanna, when Rulers say, Crucifie.
To bear a Cross for Christ, and all forego
Rather than shipwrack Faith and Conscience too.
To be disgrac'd, a beggar, nay to die
Of deaths the worst, rather than him denie:
This, this is hard, and calls for greater store
Of Grace than I have, though I had much more
Than yet I have. The very thought doth pinch;
Sure when I come in traces I shall flinch
And break the yoke, and he that doth not bear
Christs heavy Cross, his Crown shall never wear.

FAITH
Why troublest thou thy self about the morrow?
The present day is big enough with sorrow.
Dangers at distance are the worst by far;
They lose their terrours as they nearer are.
A Lion's not so fierce as he is painted;
We sufferings may like, when once acquainted.
Such as in corner sit by fire-side,
Say, weather's cold, and who can it abide?
But when they once are up, and out, they find
The day befriends them more than did their mind.
Such is the present case, persons at ease
Count flea-bites, symptoms of some sad disease.
Nothing more certain is, than thou shouldst be
Ready to part with all for God, when he
Calls thee unto it, no enjoyment shou'd
Sever thee from his love, no, not thy blood.
But possibly thou shalt not thus be tri'd;
God in the hollow of his hand may hide
Both thee and thy concernments; thou mai'st have
A sweet and easie passage to thy grave.
He in his Chambers may thee hide, and then
Safe thou shalt be from all the rage of men.
When storms abroad, thy Halcyon-days shall last
Until the Indignation's overpast.
Yet grant, that he in wisdom number out
Afflictions to thee, compass thee about
With gall and travel; know that he can roul
In sugar bitter pills, lay in thy soul
With such surpassing joys, as thou shalt be
Even in Heaven, whilest in misery.
Men can no further reach than th' outward part;
He can by speaking peace ravish thy heart.
Of crosses the world hath not half such store
As God of comforts; for he can do more
To chear thee in an hour, than all the rage
Of enemies to trouble in an age.
He can with grace so fortifie thy heart,
So shed his love, as thou shalt not depart
From him, nor from his ways, his power can
Perfect the work of grace it once began.
And will he stick at either? surely no,
He'l bare his arm, and broach his comforts too.
If thou shouldst lose thy land, silver and gold,
He will to thee restore an hundred-fold.
If for his sake thou have a thousand foes,
He, he alone will far out-number those.
When all these Stars are darkned, that Sun will
By his resplendent beams make day-light still.
If thou imprison'd be, he at that time
Will carry thee into his house of wine,
And feast thee richly there, so in a trice
Turn thy dark dungeon into Paradise.
So he hath done for others, who have found
Sweet unseen consolations most abound.
When they were heavy-laden with the cross;
Whereby their gains did much outweigh their loss.
They suffer'd all with joy, in prisons sung.
Accounting all for Christ meer dross and dung.
When the Apostles whipt were for Christs name,
Away they went rejoicing in that shame.
And sure that God who strengthen'd them, will be,
Act but thy faith, full out as good to thee.
Burdens shall be proportion'd to thy back:
When strength is small, yet strength thou shalt not lack.
If that thy way at last be dirt and mire,
Thou shalt get thorough it, and shalt not tire.
Weather and way fear not, no, fear thou neither,
Both strength & steps thou shalt renew together.
In arms of love Christ will thee carry through
All the sharp trials, which he calls thee to.
Therfore though weak, fear not the wickeds rod,
Weak ones shall be as David, he as God.

SOUL.
All will be well: within a change I find
Some settlement in mine once shaking mind.
Time was, I never could hold up my head,
But a doubt came, and struck my comforts dead,
Making me droop again. Did I but take
Hold of a promise, heart and hand would shake.
I thought my self too bold, and still did fear
Such high presumption would cost me dear.
But now the clouds begin to scatter, and
Darkness doth vanish, I now can see land,
Who lately saw nothing but swelling Seas
Of deep and boundless, endless miseries.
When I go out, methinks I see above
God smiling on me with his beams of love.
And when at home I sit, there is good store
Of Gospel-comforts knocking at my dore,
Commanding entrance, which do smooth my brow,
And I wax cheerful, though I know not how.
Its calm within, without I see it fair:
Those things that threatned, now dispersed are.
Risen the Sun is, and a glorious light
Comes from him, chasing hence my dismal night.
Where fears were rank, sweet consolations grow,
Rejoice I must, whether I will or no.
But how comes this about? what hand hath brought
Such Cordials in, when of them least I thought?
My peace beginning hath, my fears an end;
But how, I'd gladly know, and who's my friend.
Oh! it is Faith, precious and high born Faith.
Faith's voice alone it is, which to me saith,
Shake off thy dust, fear not, arise and shine,
Thy light is come, God and his all are thine.
Fool that I was! that so long time should be
Spent in such strangeness between Faith and me!
That I the door should ope to every doubt,
And shut at the same time, believing out.
So I will do no more; Faith's my relief,
I will believe, Lord help mine unbelief.
Get thee hence, Satan. Doubts be gone, I will
Relie upon my God, and trust him still.
My sins and sorrows, though they'r manifold,
Shall never force me to let go my hold:
But I upon his grace will hang, and say
Mine thou hast been, art now, shalt be for ay.
He is Immutable, and why should I
Doubt of that love which hath Eternity?
Abiding frowns such love cannot abide,
I'le trust him therefore though he from me hide.
This is my fixt resolve, which is not made
In mine own strength, but thine; Lord, faith would fade,
And soon give way to doubts, were't not each hour
Preserved by thine own Almighty pow'r.
And so still let it be; grant thou that I
May live believing, and believing die.
Faith is my strength, be thou Faith's strength, till we
In Heaven meet once for eternitie.
When of these Creature-comforts I have none,
Let me rejoice in thee mine only One.
Whatever I do want, let me all make
Up in thy self, Lord, for dear Jesus sake.
Yea when thou frownest, and lay'st on thy rod,
Let me relie upon an angry God
Grant me to cast my self, and each affair,
At all times on thy tender love and care.
And Father, while that I by Faith adhere
Unto thy boundless grace, make it appear
Thou hast accepted me. Lord feed my sense
With thine own love; draw up mine evidence
And seal it by thy Spirit; that I may
Glory in thee my God throughout the day.
And when I leave the world, let Angels be
My convoy in my passage unto thee.
Let Hope at last end in fruition,
And Faith be swallowed up of Vision.
Conduct me to that place, where I shall sing
Eternal praise to thee my God and King.