The Life of Our Blessed Lord & Saviour Jesus Christ An Heroic Poem: Dedicated to Her Most Sacred Majesty. In Ten Books. Attempted by Samuel Wesley ... Each Book illustrated by necessary Notes, explaining all the more difficult Matters in the whole History: Also a Prefatory Discourse concerning Heroic Poetry. With Sixty Copper-Plates |
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Our Saviour's Sermon of the Beatitudes, Matth. V.
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 | The Life of Our Blessed Lord & Saviour Jesus Christ |  |
Our Saviour's Sermon of the Beatitudes, Matth. V.
Mistaken
men! He cries, who still complain,
Still search for happiness, but search in vain,
For when you dream you've found it, false as fair
It cheats your clasping arms with empty air.
There are who think their Bliss fast lockt they hold,
If their strong Chests are fill'd with Ophirs gold:
Base vulgar drossie minds, with more alloy
Then is that captive wealth they might enjoy;
Which Thieves may steal, which Rust or Fire destroy;
True happiness is always in our pow'r,
Beyond the reach of one unlucky hour
To rend away, 'tis for its self desir'd,
While Riches are for something else admir'd,
Pleasure or Ease, nor therefore can they be
The solid Basis of Felicity.
Woe, woe, eternal woe and pain are near
To those who only place their Treasure here.
Sooner may happiness be found with them
Whom for their Poverty the World contemn;
Who, when my Honour and their Conscience call
With generous unconcern'dness part with all:
If Providence a larger stock affords,
Its Gifts enjoy as Stewards, not as Lords:
These, rich in Faith, to Heav'n directly tend,
Heirs of a Kingdom that shall never end.
Still search for happiness, but search in vain,
For when you dream you've found it, false as fair
It cheats your clasping arms with empty air.
There are who think their Bliss fast lockt they hold,
If their strong Chests are fill'd with Ophirs gold:
Base vulgar drossie minds, with more alloy
Then is that captive wealth they might enjoy;
Which Thieves may steal, which Rust or Fire destroy;
True happiness is always in our pow'r,
Beyond the reach of one unlucky hour
To rend away, 'tis for its self desir'd,
While Riches are for something else admir'd,
Pleasure or Ease, nor therefore can they be
The solid Basis of Felicity.
Woe, woe, eternal woe and pain are near
To those who only place their Treasure here.
Sooner may happiness be found with them
Whom for their Poverty the World contemn;
Who, when my Honour and their Conscience call
With generous unconcern'dness part with all:
If Providence a larger stock affords,
Its Gifts enjoy as Stewards, not as Lords:
These, rich in Faith, to Heav'n directly tend,
Heirs of a Kingdom that shall never end.
Unwary youth which seldom chuses right,
Hurry'd by their unbridl'd appetite
Rush hot and furious after vain delight
And false delusive Bliss—No they'll not stay
Tho' Heav'n call'd back, and Hell were in their way.
And can a cheating short-liv'd vitious Joy,
Which ev'n one moments thinking can destroy,
Nay that it self.—Say, can it ever be
A reas'ning Creatures true felicity?
Ah foolish Boy! Ah wither wilt thou run?
Why in such headlong hast to be undone?
Thy mirth is madness; e'r too late return!
And learn how blest are those who truly mourn;
Who mourn their Sins while Life's swift sand do's last,
And dear irrevocable moments past:
O what a change! when those whom now they see
Spend all their days in thoughtless jollity
Shall howl in quenchless Flames; while such as here
Oft wet their Cheeks with a repentant Tear,
Oft heave with pious Sighs their working Breast,
Of him, whom long unseen they lov'd, possest
In Abrahams bosom find eternal rest.
Hurry'd by their unbridl'd appetite
Rush hot and furious after vain delight
And false delusive Bliss—No they'll not stay
Tho' Heav'n call'd back, and Hell were in their way.
And can a cheating short-liv'd vitious Joy,
Which ev'n one moments thinking can destroy,
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A reas'ning Creatures true felicity?
Ah foolish Boy! Ah wither wilt thou run?
Why in such headlong hast to be undone?
Thy mirth is madness; e'r too late return!
And learn how blest are those who truly mourn;
Who mourn their Sins while Life's swift sand do's last,
And dear irrevocable moments past:
O what a change! when those whom now they see
Spend all their days in thoughtless jollity
Shall howl in quenchless Flames; while such as here
Oft wet their Cheeks with a repentant Tear,
Oft heave with pious Sighs their working Breast,
Of him, whom long unseen they lov'd, possest
In Abrahams bosom find eternal rest.
Others, as vain, attempt their Names to raise,
Their Lives employ'd in eager chase of praise:
Honour, that gawdy Nothing, they pursue,
For this in Blood their guilty Hands embrew:
For this unhinge the World, and when 'tis done
By all their long Fatigues what have they won?
What gains, what Trophies but a Blast of Breath,
Which seldom lives, tho' lowd, beyond their Death?
He then who here his Happiness wou'd find
As soon may grasp the Air, or track the Wind:
The gaudy Fly as soon as hatcht is flown,
'Tis in anothers pow'r and not our own:
True Magnanimity my Laws impart,
But fix it in a meek and humble heart:
What lies so low can no rough Tempest fear,
But unconcern'd, above, the Thunder hear:
Impenetrably soft's a lowly mind
Where wrongs glide off and can no Entrance find;
Not kindling into rage when e'r we see
The least appearance of an Injury;
Or suff'ring in ill Language wrath t'aspire,
Lest Angers flames be purg'd with hotter Fire.
If wrong'd, all private base Returns decline;
Your Wrath repress, Vengeance is only mine;
'Tis a false Liberty that leaves you free
Loving your Friend to hate your Enemy:
My Followers must to nobler things aspire,
My Laws exalt the humane Nature higher
Than e'er before; if mine your selves you'd prove
Bless them that curse, and those that hate you love!
Pray for their Lives who would not let you live!
As you your selves forgiveness hope, forgive!
This makes you likest God, and all divine,
Whose fruitful Rain does fall, whose Sun-beams shine
On good and bad promiscuous; thus you'll be
As far as suits with weak Humanity
Above the World, and perfect ev'n as he:
Thus wait and you'll at last the Conquest gain;
When the meek Soul shall over Nations reign.
Their Lives employ'd in eager chase of praise:
Honour, that gawdy Nothing, they pursue,
For this in Blood their guilty Hands embrew:
For this unhinge the World, and when 'tis done
By all their long Fatigues what have they won?
What gains, what Trophies but a Blast of Breath,
Which seldom lives, tho' lowd, beyond their Death?
He then who here his Happiness wou'd find
As soon may grasp the Air, or track the Wind:
The gaudy Fly as soon as hatcht is flown,
'Tis in anothers pow'r and not our own:
True Magnanimity my Laws impart,
But fix it in a meek and humble heart:
What lies so low can no rough Tempest fear,
But unconcern'd, above, the Thunder hear:
Impenetrably soft's a lowly mind
Where wrongs glide off and can no Entrance find;
Not kindling into rage when e'r we see
The least appearance of an Injury;
Or suff'ring in ill Language wrath t'aspire,
Lest Angers flames be purg'd with hotter Fire.
If wrong'd, all private base Returns decline;
Your Wrath repress, Vengeance is only mine;
'Tis a false Liberty that leaves you free
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My Followers must to nobler things aspire,
My Laws exalt the humane Nature higher
Than e'er before; if mine your selves you'd prove
Bless them that curse, and those that hate you love!
Pray for their Lives who would not let you live!
As you your selves forgiveness hope, forgive!
This makes you likest God, and all divine,
Whose fruitful Rain does fall, whose Sun-beams shine
On good and bad promiscuous; thus you'll be
As far as suits with weak Humanity
Above the World, and perfect ev'n as he:
Thus wait and you'll at last the Conquest gain;
When the meek Soul shall over Nations reign.
How few who any true Concern will show
For ought but these vain perishing Goods below!
To guard this Life mistaken Man contends,
But little for that Life which never ends:
How much of Toyl, how much of fruitless pain
No more than six small feet of Earth to gain?
How hard for those in this who happy are
For t'other World to take sufficient care?
If that neglected, they refuse to know
That Benefactor who did all bestow;
Full fed, refuse their stubborn Necks to yield,
Loose and unyoak'd fly wanton round the field;
Feasted themselves, despise and scorn the poor,
While Lazarus lies starving at their door;
The day, the dreadful day they soon shall see
When they in Torments, he in Bliss shall be:
One drop of Water then they'll ask in vain,
To cool their panting Tongues in endless pain:
But blest are those, such all who wou'd be mine,
Who thirst and hunger after Food divine,
Whom Heav'nly thoughts and meditations fill,
Whose meat and drink's to do my Father's will,
This their first Care, and firmly can repose
On him who all their wants and sorrows knows,
Be then your care for a good Life exprest,
Nor doubt but God will care for all the rest.
Why these distracted Thoughts? Why thus Dismay'd?
Wants he or Pow'r or Love to send thee Aid?
If more he gives, will lesser be deny'd?
If Life, he'll Food; if Food, he'll Cloaths provide.
All his Creation of his Love partake,
Nor will he ruine what himself did make.
Behold the feather'd Nations of the Air
Which sing in yonder Trees—how full, how fair,
They neither sow nor reap, nor plant nor plough,
Yet God provides their Food on every bush and bough:
And will He not for you? Who did inspire
Your breasts with part of his own Heav'nly fire.
Besides, such anxious thoughts but vex the mind,
Which thence can neither Ease nor Comfort find:
Nor more for Rayment care! tho forc'd to go
Beneath your Quality, mean, scorn'd and low:
What's not your Crime, no longer vainly grieve,
You spite of clamorous Sense must still believe.
Look on those lovely Lilies how they grow
Thoughtless and free in yonder Vale below!
For all those Robes they neither toil nor care,
Nor spin the Web at home, nor fetch't from far;
Yet Solomon himself, tho' cover'd o'er
With Gold and Purple from rich Sidon's shore,
Compar'd to these, had mean and homely shown;
His all but borrow'd Glories, theirs their own.
He then who thus the fading Herb supplies,
Which flourishes to day, to morrow dies,
Will he forget his Word and prove untrue?
Has he less kindness, or less care for you?
For ought but these vain perishing Goods below!
To guard this Life mistaken Man contends,
But little for that Life which never ends:
How much of Toyl, how much of fruitless pain
No more than six small feet of Earth to gain?
How hard for those in this who happy are
For t'other World to take sufficient care?
If that neglected, they refuse to know
That Benefactor who did all bestow;
Full fed, refuse their stubborn Necks to yield,
Loose and unyoak'd fly wanton round the field;
Feasted themselves, despise and scorn the poor,
While Lazarus lies starving at their door;
The day, the dreadful day they soon shall see
When they in Torments, he in Bliss shall be:
One drop of Water then they'll ask in vain,
To cool their panting Tongues in endless pain:
But blest are those, such all who wou'd be mine,
Who thirst and hunger after Food divine,
Whom Heav'nly thoughts and meditations fill,
Whose meat and drink's to do my Father's will,
This their first Care, and firmly can repose
On him who all their wants and sorrows knows,
Be then your care for a good Life exprest,
Nor doubt but God will care for all the rest.
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Wants he or Pow'r or Love to send thee Aid?
If more he gives, will lesser be deny'd?
If Life, he'll Food; if Food, he'll Cloaths provide.
All his Creation of his Love partake,
Nor will he ruine what himself did make.
Behold the feather'd Nations of the Air
Which sing in yonder Trees—how full, how fair,
They neither sow nor reap, nor plant nor plough,
Yet God provides their Food on every bush and bough:
And will He not for you? Who did inspire
Your breasts with part of his own Heav'nly fire.
Besides, such anxious thoughts but vex the mind,
Which thence can neither Ease nor Comfort find:
Nor more for Rayment care! tho forc'd to go
Beneath your Quality, mean, scorn'd and low:
What's not your Crime, no longer vainly grieve,
You spite of clamorous Sense must still believe.
Look on those lovely Lilies how they grow
Thoughtless and free in yonder Vale below!
For all those Robes they neither toil nor care,
Nor spin the Web at home, nor fetch't from far;
Yet Solomon himself, tho' cover'd o'er
With Gold and Purple from rich Sidon's shore,
Compar'd to these, had mean and homely shown;
His all but borrow'd Glories, theirs their own.
He then who thus the fading Herb supplies,
Which flourishes to day, to morrow dies,
Will he forget his Word and prove untrue?
Has he less kindness, or less care for you?
Injustice and Revenge the World divide,
Mistaken Censure, Cruelty and Pride:
Blest is the man himself who truly knows,
And Mercy, which he hopes, to others shows;
Whose Joy, the miserable to relieve,
Who tasts the mighty Pleasure to forgive:
Justly severe when he himself surveys,
As candid when he others Actions weighs:
Born for the World and not himself alone,
He always makes anothers Case his own.
Observe that Golden Rule of Equity,
Thy Neighbour treat as thou'dst have him treat thee!
Mistaken Censure, Cruelty and Pride:
Blest is the man himself who truly knows,
And Mercy, which he hopes, to others shows;
Whose Joy, the miserable to relieve,
Who tasts the mighty Pleasure to forgive:
Justly severe when he himself surveys,
As candid when he others Actions weighs:
Born for the World and not himself alone,
He always makes anothers Case his own.
125
Thy Neighbour treat as thou'dst have him treat thee!
How vain the Glosses foolish men devise!
How do they blend eternal Truth with Lies!
Traditions teach you, if your Body's pure,
Your Mind's your own, and from all stain secure:
Whatever fond Pretences these invent
I ask the Heart, nor am with less content:
That must be purg'd from Sin, and all divine,
Holy and pure, a Temple fit t'enshrine
The sacred Dove, who never yet did rest
In muddy Soil or a polluted Breast;
Gross Acts in vain you shun, unless you're free
From th' heart's and eye's and hand's Adultery:
Part with that guilty hand, that wand'ring eye,
Or soon they they'll gangreen all, and you must die:
Call then the Wand'rers home! your Self command!
And make strict Covenants with the eye and hand!
Each secret Glance that glows with lawless fire,
And kindles in the Soul a loose desire;
Each trembling touch of a forbidden hand
By which the sparks into a flame are fann'd,
All these avoid, in vain you these wou'd hide
From him who them in their dark Causes spy'd
Long e'er they were—If him in Bliss you'd find
Rather than sin, be ever lame or blind!
While those who thus their Appetites deny,
Half-Martyrs for forgotten Chastity,
Bravely repelling every poyson'd Dart,
Holy and pure, alike in eyes and heart;
Who thus their eyes, who thus their hearts employ
The Beatific Vision shall enjoy;
Which e'n while wandring here shall on 'em shine,
In this dark World their Souls still more refine,
And fill with Heav'nly Love and Joy Divine.
How do they blend eternal Truth with Lies!
Traditions teach you, if your Body's pure,
Your Mind's your own, and from all stain secure:
Whatever fond Pretences these invent
I ask the Heart, nor am with less content:
That must be purg'd from Sin, and all divine,
Holy and pure, a Temple fit t'enshrine
The sacred Dove, who never yet did rest
In muddy Soil or a polluted Breast;
Gross Acts in vain you shun, unless you're free
From th' heart's and eye's and hand's Adultery:
Part with that guilty hand, that wand'ring eye,
Or soon they they'll gangreen all, and you must die:
Call then the Wand'rers home! your Self command!
And make strict Covenants with the eye and hand!
Each secret Glance that glows with lawless fire,
And kindles in the Soul a loose desire;
Each trembling touch of a forbidden hand
By which the sparks into a flame are fann'd,
All these avoid, in vain you these wou'd hide
From him who them in their dark Causes spy'd
Long e'er they were—If him in Bliss you'd find
Rather than sin, be ever lame or blind!
While those who thus their Appetites deny,
Half-Martyrs for forgotten Chastity,
Bravely repelling every poyson'd Dart,
Holy and pure, alike in eyes and heart;
Who thus their eyes, who thus their hearts employ
The Beatific Vision shall enjoy;
Which e'n while wandring here shall on 'em shine,
In this dark World their Souls still more refine,
And fill with Heav'nly Love and Joy Divine.
How many, not content with mortal Fame,
Are eager for an Hero's sounding name!
Poor Apotheosis! the God must die
And worse, among the Fiends in Torments lie:
But happy those who peaceful Triumphs gain!
'Tis the best Empire o'er our selves to reign.
O blest Employment! theirs: O happy state!
Who Peace twixt God and Man negotiate!
Who where they come my peaceful Law disperse,
Bear these glad Tidings round the Universe:
Ah! wou'd they practise but as these advise
How soon the World wou'd be a Paradise?
They must not there expect so calm a Fate;
Peace will, tho' strange, breed War, and Love breed Hate;
Murder and Blood my miscall'd Followers stain,
Discord and Spite, and wild Confusion reign:
Hell-born Ambition will invade the Skies,
And tow'ring Pride and griping Avarice;
Parties and Sects my seamless Garment rend,
The Cause their Interest, tho' they mine pretend:
Who dare but speak of Peace, they'll stop their breath,
Twixt different Parties ground, or starv'd to death;
As base betrayers of their Cause revil'd,
And Sons of Breadth by lewd Apostates stil'd,
But tho' cast out, and under-foot they're trod,
I'll give 'em better Names—they're Sons of God.
Are eager for an Hero's sounding name!
Poor Apotheosis! the God must die
And worse, among the Fiends in Torments lie:
But happy those who peaceful Triumphs gain!
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O blest Employment! theirs: O happy state!
Who Peace twixt God and Man negotiate!
Who where they come my peaceful Law disperse,
Bear these glad Tidings round the Universe:
Ah! wou'd they practise but as these advise
How soon the World wou'd be a Paradise?
They must not there expect so calm a Fate;
Peace will, tho' strange, breed War, and Love breed Hate;
Murder and Blood my miscall'd Followers stain,
Discord and Spite, and wild Confusion reign:
Hell-born Ambition will invade the Skies,
And tow'ring Pride and griping Avarice;
Parties and Sects my seamless Garment rend,
The Cause their Interest, tho' they mine pretend:
Who dare but speak of Peace, they'll stop their breath,
Twixt different Parties ground, or starv'd to death;
As base betrayers of their Cause revil'd,
And Sons of Breadth by lewd Apostates stil'd,
But tho' cast out, and under-foot they're trod,
I'll give 'em better Names—they're Sons of God.
However others widely then mistake,
And of their Reputations Idols make,
Even those, when I require, you must despise,
And unto mine, your Honour sacrifice!
In Curses let the World their Malice show,
And all their Leaden Thunders at you throw!
Let 'em, (the kindest thing they e'er can do)
As false Apostles, separate from you!
Out of their Synagogues and Councils hurl'd
As Hereticks, and Troublers of the World;
Or as by Priest-craft sly, and juggling skill
You'd fain bring men to Heav'n against their Will.
If you like Salt, a cleansing Virtue show,
And credit Piety where e'er you go;
If you still Light the World, who when they see
Your spotless Life, know what they ought to be;
If evil they, ungrate, for good, return,
And you in more than lambent flames wou'd burn;
Now doubly blest if Innocent you are,
If causless all for me you meekly bear:
Patience too mean a Virtue is, your Choice
Be something nobler here! Exult! Rejoice!
To Heav'n direct your Songs, your Hymns, your Pray'r!
A double Crown of Glory waits you there;
You first, Triumphant, from the Dust shall rise,
And with me ever reign in Paradise:
And of their Reputations Idols make,
Even those, when I require, you must despise,
And unto mine, your Honour sacrifice!
In Curses let the World their Malice show,
And all their Leaden Thunders at you throw!
Let 'em, (the kindest thing they e'er can do)
As false Apostles, separate from you!
Out of their Synagogues and Councils hurl'd
As Hereticks, and Troublers of the World;
Or as by Priest-craft sly, and juggling skill
You'd fain bring men to Heav'n against their Will.
If you like Salt, a cleansing Virtue show,
And credit Piety where e'er you go;
If you still Light the World, who when they see
Your spotless Life, know what they ought to be;
If evil they, ungrate, for good, return,
And you in more than lambent flames wou'd burn;
Now doubly blest if Innocent you are,
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Patience too mean a Virtue is, your Choice
Be something nobler here! Exult! Rejoice!
To Heav'n direct your Songs, your Hymns, your Pray'r!
A double Crown of Glory waits you there;
You first, Triumphant, from the Dust shall rise,
And with me ever reign in Paradise:
Nor think, whatever Spite and Envy say,
I come to show to Heav'n a nearer way
Than by Good Faith and Life, t'annul or break
One Word my Father did from Sinai speak:
I came not to destroy, but to fullfil,
To do and suffer my great Father's Will:
Each type and shadow now compleat shall be,
Hither they tend, and center all in me.
What Laws of moral Obligation are,
Eternal Truth, your pleasure be't and care
To keep inviolate, they'll still prevail,
Nor pass away tho' the Creation fail:
By God's own Hand they were to Moses given,
When thus he them had Thunder'd down from Heav'n.
I come to show to Heav'n a nearer way
Than by Good Faith and Life, t'annul or break
One Word my Father did from Sinai speak:
I came not to destroy, but to fullfil,
To do and suffer my great Father's Will:
Each type and shadow now compleat shall be,
Hither they tend, and center all in me.
What Laws of moral Obligation are,
Eternal Truth, your pleasure be't and care
To keep inviolate, they'll still prevail,
Nor pass away tho' the Creation fail:
By God's own Hand they were to Moses given,
When thus he them had Thunder'd down from Heav'n.
| The Life of Our Blessed Lord & Saviour Jesus Christ | |