The grand Tryal :: :: University of Virginia Library

The grand Tryal

or, Poetical Exercitations upon the book of Job. Wherein, Suitable to each Text of that sacred Book, a modest Explanation, and Continuation of the several Discourses contained in it, is attempted by William Clark

Clarke, William (fl. 1684-1688)

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XVI.

XVII.

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XIX.

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XXVI.

Cap. XXVI.

XXVII.

XXVIII.

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XXXI.

IV.

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XXXIII.

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XXXVI.

XXXVII.

XXXVIII.

XXXIX.

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XLII.

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Cap. XXVI.

1. But Iob answered, and said

To hear such language without some offence,
Requir'd in Job a solid patience.
Who though he's now nigh spent, and hardlie able
To speak, yet hearing how his friend did table
The same Discourse, which had so oft before
Been argued on both sides, o're and o're:
With some disdain, and seeming Indignation,
He thus put in his answer.

2. How hast thou helped him, that is without power, how savest thou the arm that hath no strength

Pray now, good friend, if I without offence
To your so oft displayed eloquence
May ask the question, pray now let me see
What comfort brings all this Discourse to me?
What comfort, pray my friend? is this the way,
Are these the methods, these the means, now pray,
By which you would afford me some solace,
In this my sad, and lamentable case?
No sure, for what by your Discourse appears,
Your onlie aim is to augment my feares:
For you still tell me that my God is great,
Absolute, Boundless, and Unlimitat,
And how compar'd with him, wee're all but dust,
And so conclude none can be pure, and just
In sight of our great God.
Is this to comfort pray? is this t'allay
The Feaver of my Soul? is this, I say,
The way to comfort one in sad distress,
By Baiting of him, with such words, as these?
Words stuff'd with terror: words of dreadful sense,
And to th'afflicted of sad consequence:
Words that with comfort so repugnant are,
As they'd provoke one rather to despair.

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Words of severest rigor; words of death,
Words, that would shake a verie solid faith:
Is this the comfort you intend? alace,
This all the pity you have on my case
To fright me with such passages as these?
For when you tell me that my sins do merit
All I endure, you do so crush my spirit,
You do so damp my wearied soul with fear,
As I am almost readie to despair:
And were't not that my God in mercie yet
Sustain'd my spirit; I would soon forget
My dutie to him, and undoubtedlie,
As my impatient Wise did formerlie
Advise me, I should curse his Name, and die.
But O my Soul, do thou his Glorious Name,
In gratitude, to everie age proclaim:
His Name, who thee so graciouslie supports,
When men against thee make such strong efforts.

3. How hast thou counselled him that hath no wisdom, and how hast thou plentifully declared the thing, as it is?

Pray then, my dear friend, if I may demand,
Without offence: let me but understand,
What dost thou by this short Discourse intend,
What wouldst infer from thence? pray to what end
Dost thou with so much art delineat
The Power of God, and so expatiat
Upon his works, as if thou thought'st that I
Did anie of his Atributes denie?
Are these the methods, by which you intend
T'instruct your shallow, and unthinking friend?
You say I've err'd, why truth it may be so,
But by what you have spoke, I do not know
As yet in what: For I, as well as you,
Afirm that God to no man doth allow
Such puritie, as he may arroagate
Th'inheritance of an immortal state,
T'himself from thence: I do with you agree,
That God is great and just, and as for me,
I'me but a Worm indeed, a verie Gnat,
A Fly, a Wasp, a thing, I know not what,
So mean, so low, and of so small esteem,
As baseness is it self, compar'd with him.
I do agree with you that sinful men,
On this side time, are often overtane
With punishment; nor do I yet denie
But God doth his Displeasure signifie,
By previous signs, to such, ere he doth fall,
Upon them in his Wrath, for good and all.
But that he sends afflictions on none,
But those whose sins do merit Hell alone.
I still denie, and in that Confidence,
To all your bold, and cruel Eloquence,
I still oppose my Faith, and Innocence.
On these, and on Gods mercie I relie,
And if you think I argue foolishlie,
Convince me, pray, by other arguments
Then I have heard as yet.

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But thus to treat me, thus to aggravate
My woes: to comfort me at such a rate,
By adding to my sorrows, is, indeed,
A comforting, of which I have not read:
'Tis such a method, as I think that none
Did ever yet practise, but you alone.
I do confess, indeed, my grief is such,
As may have prompted me to speak too much
Upon the Subject; and I don't denie,
But in my sore, and bitter agonie,
Some words might fall, I cannot justifie.
But when you see me in this dire estate,
With griefs and sorrows so exasperate,
And plagu'd with such sad exercise of mind,
I did expect you would a'been so kind,
As to afford me counsel, and advice;
That such a fool as I, by men so wise
As you are, might b'instructed in the case,
But stead of that, you tell me in my face,
I'm lost, undone, and may in justice fear
Moe pains, and torments, then I yet do bear;
Such comforting did ever Mortal hear!

4. To whom hast thou uttered words, & whose spirit came from thee?

What spirit moves thee thus, my friend, to speak?
Dost thou imagine I am yet so weak,
But that I understand as well as thou,
What is Gods greatness, and his justice too?
What spirit then doth move thee thus to speak?
Dost thou intend to comfort or correct
Thy poor afflicted friend? do, let me know,
Whether thou means't to comfort me, or no?
For what thou speaks't doth nothing contribute
T'uphold my swouning spirits, or recruit
My so much wasted strength: I cannot see
What comfort all thy speeches yield to me.
For with such zeal, and fervour thus to press
Once, and again, what all men do confess:
Gods power, and greatness thus still to repeat
Were to suppose that we did now debate
The truth of these things, and that I deny'd,
What you so eagerly affirm; beside
If any man should chance to hear us now
Upon this Subject, and observ'd but how
Thou, and my other friends, with all the Art,
That Learning can afford, do still assert
What I deny: hee'd presently conclude
That you are pious men, and I a leud
Ungodly person, whereas you all know,
And are convinc'd your selves, things are not so.
Pray then forbear this way of comforting,
By such reiterated arguing,
And telling of me things I don't deny:
For what doth all this talking signifie
T'a poor afflicted man? and if you please
Pray use such words as may afford some ease

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To one in a deplorable estate,
And let me hear no more of your debate:
For what you speak, if I do understand,
Doth not concern the question in hand.

5. Dead things are framed from under the waters, and the inhabitants thereof.

But here, my friends, that you may no more Preach
Upon this Theme, as if you meant to teach
One that is dull, and ignorant, I'le show
How I Gods Greatness, and his Justice know
As well as any of you all, and how
I can descant upon his wonders too.
Allow me then his Greatness to express,
As you have done, by as few instances.
First then, that my discourse may method keep,
Let us observe his wonders in the deep;
Let's there begin, and see how providence
So vast, so pow'rful, so profound, immense,
Active, and quick at all occurrences,
Doth reach ev'n to the bottom of the Seas.
There he doth rule, as well as on the Land,
There all the Creatures, which his mighty hand
Hath fram'd, submit themselves to his command.
Those Monsters of the Ocean, who afright
Th'admiring Sea-man, with their very sight:
Those dreadful Creatures of such various frames,
As we do hardly yet know all their names:
Those numerous Giants of the deep, who scoure
The Ocean with an Arbitrary power,
Swallowing their fellow-creatures with such ease,
As if they claim'd dominion of the Seas.
Who, when they mean to sport themselves, will make
Th'unbroken Waves with their strong motion shake,
Like troubled Waters, and anon, to show
Their force, whole Tuns of Water up they throw
From their prodigious Snouts, as if they'd dare
By force of Water to subdue the Air.
Those huge portentuous Creatures, though they seem
In their own Sphere to be of some esteem,
To have some pow'r, dominion, and command,
Yet are they govern'd by his mighty hand,
And do submit their necks, with deference
To his great Lord-Lieutenent Providence:
Who, when he sees those Creatures wantonly
Sporting along the Ocean, by and by
With single nod commands them to be gone,
Then like so many Slaves they trembling run
To the Seas bottom, where they groveling ly,
Until from him they have the liberty
To swim aloft; and there they roam about
At every prey, till their Verloof run out.
Dead things he also orders in the Seas,
Such as Pearls, Amber, Coral, Ambergrease,
And Sperma-cete, which for humane use,
He makes them as a yearly Rent, produce.

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6. Hell is naked before him, and destruction hath no covering.

Now as he rules i'th' bottom of the Seas,
So in the earth he orders all with ease.
He views its darkest Caverns, and descryes
What is impervious to all humane eyes.
The Grave before him opens up her Womb,
His eyes doth pierce the clossest Marble Tomb.
No place affords a shelter from his wrath,
Not all the winding Labyrinths of death;
Not Hell it self, in whose closs Vaults do ly
The burning Tares of poor Mortality;
Where damned Souls eternally bemoan
Their idle progress here on earth, whilest none
Can make them help, and to no purpose groan.
Where grining Fiends by his permission rule,
And treat our glorious World in ridicule,
Making the highest 'mongst the lowest ly,
Where all are Cudgell'd to conformity.
Yet of this Dungeon he doth keep the Keys,
And every moment doth survey with ease
The actions, postures, tears of all in Hell,
And the sad living knows exactly well
Of all those Souls, who nigh Earths Center dwell.

7. He stretcheth out the north over the empty place, and hangeth the earth upon nothing.

With curious Art he doth expose to th'eye
That large and glorious Azure Canopy,
Which round this Earthen Glob, he doth expand,
Whilst in its Center, with a mighty hand
He makes this Glob so spacious and fair
Unfix'd, unprop'd, unfounded any where,
Hang, like a Water-bubble in the Air.
Here then let admiration fix its eyes,
And high-flown Art, its Artless self despise,
When it considers, how beyond all Art,
And contrair to what reason doth impart,
A solid Body, which should downwards tend,
By Nature, and is apt still to descend,
Should in this posture Pendulous remain,
And by its own weight, its own weight sustain.
To see gross Earth, and heavy Water mix't,
Stand so unmoving, so secure, so fix't,
Amidst the Light, thin Element of Air,
That unresisting Element, that rare
And tender'st Cob-web of the whole Creation,
Is that, which doth exceed all admiration.
When ev'n its Wing'd-Inhabitants, how e're
They at some distance to us do appear
To stand sometime i'th' Air: yet coming nigh
We see they do not stand, but softly fly,
For sure, without some motion, they could ne're
Subsist, but a few minuts in the Air.
To see a Mass with gravity deprest
On such a Downy Pillow sweetly rest,
And yet that Pillow firm, and solid still,
On which it rests appear: say what you will,

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Is that which doth all reason far transcend,
And if to know it more we do intend,
Of idle searching there shall be no end.

8. He bindeth up the waters in his thick cloud, and the cloud is not rent under him

Now let us from the Earth a while remove
Our eyes, and see what order's kep't above.
Let's make a progresse through this spacious Air,
And view what curiosities are there
Remarkable; i'th' first place let us see,
What glomerating Bodies these may be,
Who nimbly tumble all along the Air,
And no small figure make in their own Sphere.
Those glorious embroideries of the Skys,
Whose various colours feast the curious eyes.
Those Clouds, which do above our heads appear,
What are they, 'pray? for what use are they there?
What service do they make? why, we must know,
That even in those, God doth his wonders show.
For as we see in Gardens, how the care
And cautious foresight of the Gardiner,
Large quantities of waters doth retain
In Cisterns, to supply the want of Rain,
Whereby his Plants he moistens now and then.
So though the Earth is moistned with the Seas,
Who wash it on all hands, and by degrees,
Through all its Bowels squirt themselves, and so
At length in Springs, and Rivers gently flow
For that same end; yet he takes further care
Of this great Garden, as great Gardiner:
And lest those Springs at any time run dry,
And so the Earth grow sterile, by and by,
Whole Oceans he pumps up to the Sky.
By a great engine called Exhalation,
And in those airy Clouds to admiration,
Those waters, he doth firm, and sure retain,
And only sifts them gently out in rain,
As through the Cribrous snout of Water-pot,
The Gardner softly wets his Garden Plot:
So he from thence this Earth doth irrigate;
For should one Cloud but burst, without debate
A Deluge would ensue. But O, the care
Of Providence, that in those Bags of Air;
Those Hankerchiefs of condens'd vapours, those
So spongious Tankards he should keep so close,
Such quantities of Waters Tunn'd, and Pal'd,
As sure, as if in Bottles, Cork'd, and Seal'd;
When one would think (by rules of Art to speak)
Those shoulders for such burdens were too weak;
And that the weight o'th' waters they contain,
Might make those vaporous Bottles burst in twain.

9. He holdeth back the face of his throne and spreadeth his clouds upon it.

Thus then we see those Clouds created were,
To serve the useful Water-works i'th' Air.
For in these, Liquor stor'd in Magazine,
Is kep't in Cask entire, upon design,
Not to be drawn off, but when he'd supply

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The drouthy Earth, what time it becomes dry.
And yet those brim-full Clouds sometime appear,
So settled, and almost transparent clear:
As if no waters in their belly were.
And then we seem to view the Heavenly Throne,
In its full glory; but when God anon,
Intends this glory from our eyes to shrowd,
'Tis but to interpose a sable Cloud:
A sable Cloud, which he can quickly make
Out of the clearest: as if one should shake
A Christal Bottle, in which, for some space,
Liquor preserv'd appears clear as the Glasse;
Because by time its Dregs being separate
From th'spirits; in the bottom take their seat,
But once being shak'd, what formerly was clear,
Now muddy, thick, and troubled doth appear.
So a few Clouds, shak'd by his mighty hand,
In a thick Curtain soon themselves expand,
Which he lets fall betwixt us and the light,
And what was clear before, is dark as night:
Yet by obscuring of his glory so,
At seasons, he doth make its value grow;
And causes us poor Mortals earnestly,
Long for his re-appearance in the Sky:
As those for day, who under th'Pole do ly.

10. He hath compass'd the waters with bounds until the day, and night come to an end.

Now since so many Pales with Water full
Do hang above our heads; what simple, dull,
Insipid Creatures must we Mortals be,
That don't the love of our Creator see?
In all his Dispensations, for if e'r
His loving care of mankind did appear
In any thing: in this 'tis evident,
That he thus bridles that wild Element
Of Water, which would otherwise o'rflow
Us all, but that he binds its fury so,
As neither those, who 'bout the Earth doth roar,
And, were it in their power, would soon devour
The Land, and be by Shores hemm'd in no more.
Nor yet for all their daily threatnings dar
Those Waters, which hang over us i'th' air,
Upon this Earth in bodies rudely fall,
But are restrain'd by him, who governs all:
And still shall be by that high power restrain'd,
Untill all what we see shall have an end.

11. The pillar of heaven tremble, and are astonished at his reproof.

How kind a God! how much to him we owe,
Who for our Beeing such concern doth show!
How should we love him! how should we forbear
T'incense that God, to whom we are so dear!
O, how should we to rouze his choller fear!
For, if this God do once appear in wrath,
Hell in his eyes, and in his looks is Death:
With one stern aspect, he will quickly make
Heavens most entire, and strongest pillars shake.
At his reproof the Mountains cleave assunder

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By Earthquakes, and the Air is rent by Thunder,
At his command, Fire out in lightning flyes,
And there's a great commotion in the Skyes:
All things created do a trembling fall,
The sudden fear is epidemical,
And we expect a period of all.

12. He divideth the sea with his power, and by his understanding he smiteth through the proud.

And yet amidst this anger still his care,
And love for man doth eminent appear.
For though he sometimes makes the Ocean swell,
To that extent, as if it would compell
The Heavens to give it way to quarter all
Its furious billows on this Earthen Ball.
When with high-winds blown up beyond spring-tide,
It swaggers with intolerable pride,
Making whole heaps of Froath on high to rise,
As if it boldlie mean't t'assault the Skyes:
Yet in an instant, he can, when he will,
Make this rude Monster silent, and tranquil;
And make it soon return for all its pride,
To th'progress of an ordinary tyde.

13. By his spirit he hath garnished the heavens, his hand hath formed the crooked serpent.

And last of all, since Earth, Sea, Hell, and Air,
We've view'd, lets to Heavens-pallace now repair.
That he hath garnish'd in such curious sort,
And beautified so his Empyrean-Court,
As no eye can behold, no tongue set forth,
No Art esteem, or calculate its worth.
For what created Opticks can perceive
That which the mind doth even with pain believe!
What mortal eye can view the precious things,
That in the pallace of the King of kings
Are to be seen!
When even in some Kings-pallace here below,
Pearls, Rubies, Diamonds make such glorious show,
With Silks, and Silver, Walls and Floors orelaid,
Cupboards with Gold, and Chrystal vessels spread:
Pictures and Statues to such value wrought,
As only by great Monarchs can be bought,
Make such a strange appearance, as the eyes
Are dazled with the sight, and do surpize
Th'uncurious, home-bred, unexpecting mind,
When they present it Idea's of that kind.
Nay those who've seen those glorious passages,
When they relate such goodlie sights, as these,
They're not believ'd, and every one who hears
Their Stories, think them lying Travellers.
Then O if these so glorious do appear,
Which if with Heavens rich pallace we compare,
Are but as Cottages; what must that be,
Which none but with the eye of Faith can see!
Yes, with the piercing eye of Faith alone,
Must we discover the cœlestial Throne,
Which when we see, our minds shall then abhore
All other sights, and wish to see no more.
The Sun, and Moon, who in their Orbs appear

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Most necessarie for his Glorie here;
Are there of no more use, than Candles be,
After the Day is broke, for then wee see
These little Raies, which sparkled in the night,
Are fullie swallowed in the greater light.
So where God in his Majestie doth shine,
These most resplendent Beames, those Raies Divine
Do so much light afford, as there's no need
Of Sun, and Moon: this light it self doth spread
So brightlie, and so fullie over all
That other Lights we may but Tapers call.

But hear, my friends, pray, even admire with me
Heavens outward Fabrick, which we dailie see,
Let us with admiration cast our eyes
Upon those verie Heavens, and view the skies,
How Glorious, how Beautiful, and Fair,
When Sun at Noon-tide shines, they do appear.
When nothing in our Horizon we view,
But a Sun Radient in a Field of Blew:
Which, like a spacious Arch, appears to th'eye,
Whilst we, as sitting under Canopie
Do eat in state: anone, when he inclines
To rest, and takes good-night, in Oblique-lines,
How sweetlie on the Mountain tops he shines!
Whilst round his squinting beames the skies appear,
In such bright various Colours here, and there,
So curiouslie damask'd at that rate,
As Artists yet, but faintlie imitat
That evening Picture, and at length confess
No Pencil can such glorious showes express;
Whilst, most part of that Field which now we view
Is shadowed Scarlet, which before was Blew.
At length, when after all, the Sun is gone,
And Darkness doth invade our Horizon:
Then of what colour is this Canopie?
How do the Heav'ns appear then to the eye?
Why then we see the Moon, and Stars do yield
A comelie Figure in a Russet Field:
Under which spacious covering we sleep,
Till from the Seas the Sun again doth peep:
And then, what Russet was before, we view
Now of a mixt Pearl, Orient, Gray, and Blew.
Then if these outward Heavens themselves display
In changes of attire four times a day,
And with such rare, and goodlie Variation,
Affords us so much cause of admiration:
Ah! how much more should we admire, if we
The Inner-court of the third Heavens could see
The Heavens of Heavens, where in Magnificence
The Great Creator keeps his Residence!
How should we be surpriz'd, if we could see,
What glorious sights in these Apartments be.
Where he who fram'd all things doth fit in state,
When we so much admire the utter Gate.

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Now as those curious Heavens his Hands did frame
Which everie hour his Greatness do proclaim,
So, as a Limner, when to show his skill,
He makes his Pensil draw what shapes he will;
The Great Creator to express his art,
That from the highest to the lowest part,
This Universe might be replenished
With these so various works his hands had made:
The Insects too, which on the Earth do crawl,
He fram'd, to show his Glorie shines in all,
What we can see, or fathom in our mind,
And writes his name on things of everie kind.

14. Lo these are parts of his ways, but how little a portion is heard of him, but the thunder of his power who can understand.

Then, to conclude, since those few passages
Do so much of his Glorious Pow'r express:
Since what with our dull eyes of flesh we see,
Which may by Computation hardlie be
The hundred thousand part of that great whole
Of which the Great Creator is the soul:
Affords such grounds of serious contemplation,
How should it far exceed all admiration!
Were I, my friends, but able to relate
His Glorie in its true, and real state,
But ah, there's no man able to do that.
And thus, I hope, I have demonstrate now,
I understand these things as well as you.
Let these suffice then, let these things, my friends,
Of which I've spoke, fullie possess your minds.
Debate no more, I pray, but let us all
Upon this subject to admiring fall,
That Great Creator, at whose verie name
We mortals should our faces vail for shame,
And prostrat on the ground in ashes ly,
When we consider that great Deity:
That chief, and supream Beeing, that so vast
Extent of Power, that glorious first, and last:
Compar'd with whom man is a cheaper thing,
Then is a Beggar ballanc'd with a King,
Ten thousand times. Then O let these suffice
And let us no more in contention rise
Concerning things we cannot comprehend,
Which all our art, and reason do transcend,
In painting out of which there is no end.