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PATIENCE.

I.

How fretful is Mankind, and vain!
He'l bay at Heaven, and complain,
And grumble for fair Weather, or for Rain.
Alas! he is insensible and blind,
And cannot view the good which Providence design'd:
His life's uneasie, and with murm'rings fill'd,
He is with Summer scorch'd, and with cold Winter chill'd.
12

He cannot live where crosses are:
Should he with cursing Shimei be try'd,
He neither could the Language bear,
Nor th' ignominious reproachful Stones abide.

II.

Man sees not as his Maker sees,
But wrangles still with Providence,
And beareth no affliction with an even sense;
But with impatience doth corrupt his ease;
'Tis difficult his squeamish Soul to please;
To bear th' afflicting Rod he doth not know;
Alas! he'l either stupid grow,
Or with despairing die;
Between th' Extremes he cannot flie;
He'l either madly soar too high,
Or desperately plunge his laden Soul too low.

III.

But Patience doth enthron'd in Ashes sit;
Her Substance wasted, Children dead,
Friendship retir'd, and Pity fled,
Yet she the Potsheard takes, and scrapes her Biles with it.
The Pomp of Death, and Funeral Obsequies,
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Do not her stedfast heart surprize:
Though with increasing pain she's prov'd,
Her Anchor's fix'd, she will not now be mov'd:
In vain the Devil doth the storm foment,
In vain fresh Legions of Plagues are sent,
In vain they all temptations try,
She will not curse her God and die.

IV.

She knows that Heav'n relieving succours hath,
She knows its Mercy's sure,
'Tis infinite, and will endure,
She knows, and pleads with mighty Faith;
She waits, and strives with God, yet is not bold,
Like the impatient sullen Israelites of old.
The frailty of the flesh she doth expand;
She weeps, yet sheds no hopeless Tears,
She sighs till the Almighty hears,
And is ascertain'd yet t'enjoy the promis'd Land.

V.

Monster Affliction may appear
In any shape, yet not astonish her.
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So quick and piercing is her Eye,
In Iron Bonds she can behold
More Honour than in Chains of Gold,
And in a Dungeon can a glorious Crown descry:
Let Storms roar loud, and Tempests roul,
Let batt'ring Waves against her flie,
They shall not move her well-fix'd Soul,
They cannot do the Vessel wrong;
Her Faith hath made her wondrous strong,
And Lord thy will be done, is still her strengthing Song.

VI.

Lead her to Flames, and shew her Martyrdom,
She will no scruples make,
Nor tremble like the Fire to which she's come,
But cast a lovely smile, and kiss the welcom Stake.
What values she
Which road she sojourn to Eternity?
She with submission lives, and with submission dies
Begging th' acceptance of her self, the Sacrifice,
And shaking off Mortality,
Like th' Angel which to Manoah came
Ascends to Heav'n in a Coach of Flame.
previous section Miscellaneous Poems, with some Remarks on the Death of King Charles the II
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