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 |
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| I. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| II. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| III. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| IV. | PART. IV. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| V. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
 | The grand Tryal |  |
IV. PART. IV.
Cap. XXXII.
And now the long debate is at an end,
For th'other three perceiving how their friend
Still unconvinc'd, himself did justify,
And would not pass from his integrity,
But that to every proof and evidence,
Which they adduc'd, to rouz his Conscience,
He still oppon'd his unstain'd innocence.
All over wearied, and perceiving now
'Twas but in vain t'have any more to do
With one, who was beyond their reasoning,
Hence now all silent.—
For th'other three perceiving how their friend
Still unconvinc'd, himself did justify,
And would not pass from his integrity,
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Which they adduc'd, to rouz his Conscience,
He still oppon'd his unstain'd innocence.
All over wearied, and perceiving now
'Twas but in vain t'have any more to do
With one, who was beyond their reasoning,
Hence now all silent.—
As in some pleadings, you have, after all
Have spoke, observ'd th'Actorney-General
Resume the series of the whole debate,
And in good order recapitulate
Both Parties Arguments, and then declare
Wherein, in his opinion both do err,
And where agree with Law: so after these
And Job at large had argued the case:
One, who had sit by all the while, and heard
All that had past, but had not yet appear'd
In the debate, one Elihu by name,
A pious young man, of the house of Ram,
Descended, as is thought of Nahors race,
Residing not far distant from the place
Where Job did live: come hither to condole
As well, it seems, as th'others: this mans Soul
Enrag'd at what he heard both Parties speak,
Resolves at length to tell his mind, and check
Both of 'em for their errors: and first here
Begins with Job, because he did appear
To justifie himself, and usually
Would in his passion ask a reason why
He was afflicted thus, as if that he
Had known no sin, had been from errour free;
And God, whom he with fervency and zeal,
Had alwayes serv'd, now had not us'd him well:
But laid him low, and so by consequence
He was unjust in whipping innocence.
Have spoke, observ'd th'Actorney-General
Resume the series of the whole debate,
And in good order recapitulate
Both Parties Arguments, and then declare
Wherein, in his opinion both do err,
And where agree with Law: so after these
And Job at large had argued the case:
One, who had sit by all the while, and heard
All that had past, but had not yet appear'd
In the debate, one Elihu by name,
A pious young man, of the house of Ram,
Descended, as is thought of Nahors race,
Residing not far distant from the place
Where Job did live: come hither to condole
As well, it seems, as th'others: this mans Soul
Enrag'd at what he heard both Parties speak,
Resolves at length to tell his mind, and check
Both of 'em for their errors: and first here
Begins with Job, because he did appear
To justifie himself, and usually
Would in his passion ask a reason why
He was afflicted thus, as if that he
Had known no sin, had been from errour free;
And God, whom he with fervency and zeal,
Had alwayes serv'd, now had not us'd him well:
But laid him low, and so by consequence
He was unjust in whipping innocence.
Next at his three friends he was angry too,
'Cause they had all this while kept such adoe,
With long discourses, edg'd with eloquence,
And argu'd with great heat, and violence,
Against a man, whom God had visited
With sorrows, as if he had merited
Those evils, by his sins: yet after all,
They could not prove that he was Criminal
Of what they did accuse him; but indeed
Did rather for him, then against him plead.
Because with all their painted Allegories,
Their pitiful, and oft repeated Stories,
Of great mens down-falls; and the Tragical
Exits of those, whom th'world doth happy call:
They were so far from proving what they aim'd,
As he admir'd such men were not asham'd
To so small purpose to have argued,
When he observ'd to all that he had said,
Th'afflicted man had with such gravity,
Such polish'd reason, and solidity,
So wisely, and discreetly answered,
As they had not yet any progress made
In what they undertook, nor could they prove
That he was one found guilty from above.
Yet had all three concluded he was such
As those great men of whom they talk'd too much.
'Cause they had all this while kept such adoe,
With long discourses, edg'd with eloquence,
And argu'd with great heat, and violence,
Against a man, whom God had visited
With sorrows, as if he had merited
Those evils, by his sins: yet after all,
They could not prove that he was Criminal
Of what they did accuse him; but indeed
Did rather for him, then against him plead.
Because with all their painted Allegories,
Their pitiful, and oft repeated Stories,
Of great mens down-falls; and the Tragical
Exits of those, whom th'world doth happy call:
They were so far from proving what they aim'd,
As he admir'd such men were not asham'd
To so small purpose to have argued,
When he observ'd to all that he had said,
Th'afflicted man had with such gravity,
Such polish'd reason, and solidity,
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As they had not yet any progress made
In what they undertook, nor could they prove
That he was one found guilty from above.
Yet had all three concluded he was such
As those great men of whom they talk'd too much.
Now this same Elihu, this knowing Youth
Sate silently not opening of his mouth,
During the whole Debate, and with attention,
Had heard them speak, what in his apprehension,
Might ha' been spar'd: yet would not undertake
To interrupt them, whilst they yet did speak,
In reverence to their Age, and that true sense
Of things afforded by experience,
With which he thought those men were richly stor'd,
And therefore, whilst they argu'd, not one word
Upon the Subject from his mouth did fall,
Though in his mind he kept record of all.
Sate silently not opening of his mouth,
During the whole Debate, and with attention,
Had heard them speak, what in his apprehension,
Might ha' been spar'd: yet would not undertake
To interrupt them, whilst they yet did speak,
In reverence to their Age, and that true sense
Of things afforded by experience,
With which he thought those men were richly stor'd,
And therefore, whilst they argu'd, not one word
Upon the Subject from his mouth did fall,
Though in his mind he kept record of all.
But now that Job his last Discourse had ended,
And he, with patience, had some time attended,
To see if any of 'em would answer make,
That not succeeding, as he did expect,
In indignation, he began to speak.
And he, with patience, had some time attended,
To see if any of 'em would answer make,
That not succeeding, as he did expect,
In indignation, he began to speak.
I'me young, says he, 'tis true, and you are old,
On which account I durst not be so bold,
Whilst you persisted in your reasoning,
To give you my opinion of the thing:
But now, that I perceive you at a Bay,
And it appears you have no more to say;
Not knowing further, as the Case doth stand,
How to pursue the Argument in hand:
And that Jobs Reason's strong, yours low, and weak
I think it is high time for me to speak.
On which account I durst not be so bold,
Whilst you persisted in your reasoning,
To give you my opinion of the thing:
But now, that I perceive you at a Bay,
And it appears you have no more to say;
Not knowing further, as the Case doth stand,
How to pursue the Argument in hand:
And that Jobs Reason's strong, yours low, and weak
I think it is high time for me to speak.
For, truth, I with the Vulgar, had esteem
For every Formal Fop, that bore the name
Of solid Judgment hudled up in years,
And had a great respect for Silver hairs.
For every Formal Fop, that bore the name
Of solid Judgment hudled up in years,
And had a great respect for Silver hairs.
But now I see, now I perceive at last,
(Reflecting seriously on what is past,)
The fallacy of this Vulgar Error, now
I clearly see, what 'tis to have to do
With men of reason; who, as well appears,
Are not to be out-brav'd by boasting years.
Now I perceive, what we Experience call
And aged Judgment, is meer cous'nage all.
For when 'tis brought to th'Test, and we expect
Our gray-hair'd Sires, like Oracles should speak,
And utter nothing, but grave Sentences;
In you, my friends, I've seen, I do profess
Nothing but a tenacious wilfulness.
For I've observ'd, with how much heat, and passion
You spoke, and us'd but little moderation
In your Discourse: which, if I may divine,
The Judgment, by the Tongue, is no good sign
Of reall wisdom: and I now conceive,
That we of younger years, are made believe,
Old men, to be the only men of sense,
Because enrich'd with long experience,
And that no man, while old can become wise,
Meerly by th'unperceived artifice
Of bare Tradition: as the idle tales
Of Fairies, and Hobgoblins, or what else
Good women, to affright their babes devise
Do passe for truths, though little more then lies.
(Reflecting seriously on what is past,)
The fallacy of this Vulgar Error, now
I clearly see, what 'tis to have to do
With men of reason; who, as well appears,
Are not to be out-brav'd by boasting years.
Now I perceive, what we Experience call
And aged Judgment, is meer cous'nage all.
For when 'tis brought to th'Test, and we expect
Our gray-hair'd Sires, like Oracles should speak,
And utter nothing, but grave Sentences;
In you, my friends, I've seen, I do profess
Nothing but a tenacious wilfulness.
For I've observ'd, with how much heat, and passion
You spoke, and us'd but little moderation
In your Discourse: which, if I may divine,
The Judgment, by the Tongue, is no good sign
281
That we of younger years, are made believe,
Old men, to be the only men of sense,
Because enrich'd with long experience,
And that no man, while old can become wise,
Meerly by th'unperceived artifice
Of bare Tradition: as the idle tales
Of Fairies, and Hobgoblins, or what else
Good women, to affright their babes devise
Do passe for truths, though little more then lies.
No, trust me, wisdom is not purchased
By length of days, nor can a man be said
To be an owner of that quality,
Which we call wisdom, or solidity,
Only because of his antiquity.
Alace, you are deceiv'd, if you think so,
For, by what I have learn'd, I tell you no.
I tell you no,—for I am confident,
There is a Spirit, which from Heaven is sent
Into our Breasts, by which we learn to know,
What all our toile, and labour here below
Cannot attain: for (to be plain with you)
I alwayes thought, but am confirmed now,
That wisdom is a spark of Divine flame,
A piercing glance of him whose hand did frame
The Universe: a most conspicuous sign
Of what we know, but cannot well define.
I think it one of those Cœlestial Rayes,
Which neither doth consist in years, nor days:
A thing that is not in a Sanguine air,
Or a brisque Mine, though one would think that there
Great Spirits lodg'd, nor in a serious eye,
Or sad deportment doth this wisdom lye.
Nor in a dull, and slow phlegmatick sense,
Which doth not yeeld the world much eloquence,
But by a forc'd frugality of speech,
Would make us think what is above its reach,
Were jealously shut up within its breast,
Whilst this wise thing, knows of all others least.
Nor in a sullen melancholy look,
Which seems to order all things by the Book:
And in all subtile Arts, and Sciences
Knows more, then it has language to expresse,
No, I think wit consists in none of these
'Tis neither in Earth, Water, Air, nor Fire,
But God alone, true wisdom doth inspire.
By length of days, nor can a man be said
To be an owner of that quality,
Which we call wisdom, or solidity,
Only because of his antiquity.
Alace, you are deceiv'd, if you think so,
For, by what I have learn'd, I tell you no.
I tell you no,—for I am confident,
There is a Spirit, which from Heaven is sent
Into our Breasts, by which we learn to know,
What all our toile, and labour here below
Cannot attain: for (to be plain with you)
I alwayes thought, but am confirmed now,
That wisdom is a spark of Divine flame,
A piercing glance of him whose hand did frame
The Universe: a most conspicuous sign
Of what we know, but cannot well define.
I think it one of those Cœlestial Rayes,
Which neither doth consist in years, nor days:
A thing that is not in a Sanguine air,
Or a brisque Mine, though one would think that there
Great Spirits lodg'd, nor in a serious eye,
Or sad deportment doth this wisdom lye.
Nor in a dull, and slow phlegmatick sense,
Which doth not yeeld the world much eloquence,
But by a forc'd frugality of speech,
Would make us think what is above its reach,
Were jealously shut up within its breast,
Whilst this wise thing, knows of all others least.
Nor in a sullen melancholy look,
Which seems to order all things by the Book:
And in all subtile Arts, and Sciences
Knows more, then it has language to expresse,
No, I think wit consists in none of these
'Tis neither in Earth, Water, Air, nor Fire,
But God alone, true wisdom doth inspire.
'Tis true, I know there is a rational,
And well prepared soul infus'd in all
The Race of Adam, by which they indeed
From other Creatures are distinguished:
And that this soul, which (being the same in all
The Sons of men,) we do a Spirit call:
May be by Art, and curious Industry
So much improv'd, and elevat so hye,
'Twill stoop to nothing, but Divinity:
Yet in that Spirit Wisdom doth not dwell,
For there's a Spirit, that doth yet excell
That Spirit; which we may call Divine Grace,
There, there true Wisdome hath its dwelling place,
There it resides, and in that Spirit, God,
For mans instruction keeps his firm abode.
Hence those that are not furnish'd with this Spirit,
Let them all Learning, Parts, and Wit inherit:
Let them with stretches of a large dimension,
Exceed the reach of humane apprehension,
In their high, subtile notions: let them raise
Themselves beyond the faculty of praise,
Yea, let all men them wise, and prudent call,
Without this Spirit, they're but dunces all.
And well prepared soul infus'd in all
The Race of Adam, by which they indeed
From other Creatures are distinguished:
And that this soul, which (being the same in all
The Sons of men,) we do a Spirit call:
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So much improv'd, and elevat so hye,
'Twill stoop to nothing, but Divinity:
Yet in that Spirit Wisdom doth not dwell,
For there's a Spirit, that doth yet excell
That Spirit; which we may call Divine Grace,
There, there true Wisdome hath its dwelling place,
There it resides, and in that Spirit, God,
For mans instruction keeps his firm abode.
Hence those that are not furnish'd with this Spirit,
Let them all Learning, Parts, and Wit inherit:
Let them with stretches of a large dimension,
Exceed the reach of humane apprehension,
In their high, subtile notions: let them raise
Themselves beyond the faculty of praise,
Yea, let all men them wise, and prudent call,
Without this Spirit, they're but dunces all.
For don't we see how those, whom all esteem
Prudent, learn'd, wise, and Politicians name
The great eyes of the world: the knowing things
Whom we call States-men, by whose wisdome Kings
Are rul'd, who rule us all.—
When by their carnal wit, and policy,
Void of all grace, they labour foolishly,
To do great things; that thence they may attain
The reputation of contriving men,
When by their wit they make alliances
And break them too, to serve their purposes,
More then their Princes int'rest, for their zeal
Neither regards the Crown, nor Common-weal,
But their own ends, until the Princes eye
Begins to make some sharp discovery
Of their ill actings; then their wit appears,
Their great experience, and their length of years
To be meer folly, and they now too late
Do find that something not precogitate
Doth lack, which would ha'made their wits compleat
For now estranged from their Princes face,
They find their wisdome was not that of grace:
Prudent, learn'd, wise, and Politicians name
The great eyes of the world: the knowing things
Whom we call States-men, by whose wisdome Kings
Are rul'd, who rule us all.—
When by their carnal wit, and policy,
Void of all grace, they labour foolishly,
To do great things; that thence they may attain
The reputation of contriving men,
When by their wit they make alliances
And break them too, to serve their purposes,
More then their Princes int'rest, for their zeal
Neither regards the Crown, nor Common-weal,
But their own ends, until the Princes eye
Begins to make some sharp discovery
Of their ill actings; then their wit appears,
Their great experience, and their length of years
To be meer folly, and they now too late
Do find that something not precogitate
Doth lack, which would ha'made their wits compleat
For now estranged from their Princes face,
They find their wisdome was not that of grace:
And now the poor discarded man of wit,
In solitude most pensively doth sit,
Whilst with his former greatness he begins,
At once to call to mind his former sins:
And so concludes, for all his wit and art,
He was deceiv'd by a deceitful heart,
Which made him still believe that without grace,
His parts would fully do his business;
But now he sees he's but a very fool,
A child, and yet but entring to the School
Of real wisdome: and endeavours now
In the short time he has with much adoe
To know but even the Rudiments of that,
Which far transcends all guilded Rules of State.
In solitude most pensively doth sit,
Whilst with his former greatness he begins,
At once to call to mind his former sins:
And so concludes, for all his wit and art,
He was deceiv'd by a deceitful heart,
Which made him still believe that without grace,
His parts would fully do his business;
But now he sees he's but a very fool,
A child, and yet but entring to the School
Of real wisdome: and endeavours now
In the short time he has with much adoe
To know but even the Rudiments of that,
Which far transcends all guilded Rules of State.
283
Since wisdome then in years doth not consist,
Nor in high knowledge, (think you what you list)
For my part, I think one that has not yet
Attain'd to either, freely may debate
Upon a subject, where both young and old
Are equally concern'd: I must be bold
To tell you then, of what you three have said,
And what our friend has spoke, that I have made
My own weak observations, and am now
Ready to show you, what I do allow,
What not, in all you've spoke.—
Then after all your learned reasoning,
Be pleas'd to hear my judgement of the thing.
Nor in high knowledge, (think you what you list)
For my part, I think one that has not yet
Attain'd to either, freely may debate
Upon a subject, where both young and old
Are equally concern'd: I must be bold
To tell you then, of what you three have said,
And what our friend has spoke, that I have made
My own weak observations, and am now
Ready to show you, what I do allow,
What not, in all you've spoke.—
Then after all your learned reasoning,
Be pleas'd to hear my judgement of the thing.
Why then, my friends, during your long debate,
I have observ'd your words, whilst you did state
The Question in hand, and eagerly
With all your art maintain'd the verity
Of your assertions: yet me thought, indeed
That all the while you never answered
The Arguments, which Job in his defence
Often adduc'd, to prove his innocence:
So well, and fully, as you might ha' done;
But that—
'Stead of refuting of what he maintain'd,
You rather fortin'd him, and have gain'd
Nothing as I perceive by this debate,
But rather seem by him to be defeat.
I have observ'd your words, whilst you did state
The Question in hand, and eagerly
With all your art maintain'd the verity
Of your assertions: yet me thought, indeed
That all the while you never answered
The Arguments, which Job in his defence
Often adduc'd, to prove his innocence:
So well, and fully, as you might ha' done;
But that—
'Stead of refuting of what he maintain'd,
You rather fortin'd him, and have gain'd
Nothing as I perceive by this debate,
But rather seem by him to be defeat.
For when I had considered all you spoke,
I found your reasons were but empty smoake:
And all your Arguments to me appear'd
But aeryknacks; for yet I have not heard
Any of you, for all your pungent wit,
In your discourse judiciously hit
Upon the point: as truth you should a'done,
And you shall hear how I shall do anon.
I found your reasons were but empty smoake:
And all your Arguments to me appear'd
But aeryknacks; for yet I have not heard
Any of you, for all your pungent wit,
In your discourse judiciously hit
Upon the point: as truth you should a'done,
And you shall hear how I shall do anon.
Then do not think that you have overcome
Job with your reasons, and have made him dumb
By force of argument, for what you said
That God was just, and only punished
Such as deserv'd; which you did all maintain
To be a maxime, and once, and again
VVould urge it strongly, truth I take to be
A point debatable; because I see
No inconsistence 'twixt the equity
Of God th'afflicter, and th'integrity
Of him, who is afflicted; for I know
God keeps a many worthy persons low,
For their own good; whom we must not conceive
To be offenders, or with you believe
That none but such do suffer: at this rate
You've argu'd all this while, but I shall state
The matter otherwise, and plainly show
That though this man were innocent, yet so
To bluster in his triall, and complain
Of his hard usage, as if he'd arraign
The God of justice, for iniquity
Is such a fault as none can justify.
Job with your reasons, and have made him dumb
By force of argument, for what you said
That God was just, and only punished
Such as deserv'd; which you did all maintain
To be a maxime, and once, and again
VVould urge it strongly, truth I take to be
A point debatable; because I see
No inconsistence 'twixt the equity
Of God th'afflicter, and th'integrity
Of him, who is afflicted; for I know
God keeps a many worthy persons low,
For their own good; whom we must not conceive
To be offenders, or with you believe
That none but such do suffer: at this rate
You've argu'd all this while, but I shall state
The matter otherwise, and plainly show
That though this man were innocent, yet so
To bluster in his triall, and complain
284
The God of justice, for iniquity
Is such a fault as none can justify.
Now then, my friends, as I am not engag'd
In quarrel with this man; nor have I stag'd
My self his opposit: and with such heat,
As you have done, mannag'd a long debate,
With one in his sad circumstances, so
I will not use your reasons, for I know
My friends distemper, and I will endeavour
By other means, then yours, to cure his feaver.
In quarrel with this man; nor have I stag'd
My self his opposit: and with such heat,
As you have done, mannag'd a long debate,
With one in his sad circumstances, so
I will not use your reasons, for I know
My friends distemper, and I will endeavour
By other means, then yours, to cure his feaver.
Especially, because I now perceive
You're silent, I have reason to believe
The heat of your sharp arguing now is spent,
And you'll no more pursue your argument.
You're silent, I have reason to believe
The heat of your sharp arguing now is spent,
And you'll no more pursue your argument.
For I expected, that in such a case,
Your language with your reason would encrease,
But now I see you're mute, and hold your peace.
Your language with your reason would encrease,
But now I see you're mute, and hold your peace.
I therefore think, 'tis now high time for me
To speake my thoughts, and let you plainly see
Your error in the subject, and defend
At least, in some points, our distressed friend.
To speake my thoughts, and let you plainly see
Your error in the subject, and defend
At least, in some points, our distressed friend.
For when my Makers honour lies at stake,
If ever, I am now oblig'd to speake,
I'm now oblig'd to speake; because I find
The spirit within me bids me speake my mind.
If ever, I am now oblig'd to speake,
I'm now oblig'd to speake; because I find
The spirit within me bids me speake my mind.
For as new wine in Bottles doth ferment,
And quickly bursts, if it doth find no vent,
So, if I speake not, what the spirit now,
In a well ord'red zeal doth promp me too,
I doubt my mind with matter so replete,
Will force a passage, and expatiate
It self in some disorder, or at least,
My words will issue through my very breast.
And quickly bursts, if it doth find no vent,
So, if I speake not, what the spirit now,
In a well ord'red zeal doth promp me too,
I doubt my mind with matter so replete,
Will force a passage, and expatiate
It self in some disorder, or at least,
My words will issue through my very breast.
That therefore to my numerous thoughts I may,
What e're be th'event, make some speedy way,
And so refresh my spirits, I must speake,
Though possibly in such a dialect,
As will not please both parties, yet I must
Expresse my mind, and truth I shall be just
To all of you, and so far, as I can,
Avoide to give offence to any man.
What e're be th'event, make some speedy way,
And so refresh my spirits, I must speake,
Though possibly in such a dialect,
As will not please both parties, yet I must
Expresse my mind, and truth I shall be just
To all of you, and so far, as I can,
Avoide to give offence to any man.
But I must tell you that you may expect,
My mind I will impartially speak;
I'll flatter none of you, but will expresse
With freedom. what I think upon the case:
Without regard to this poor man, who lies
On Dung-hill now, and whom all men despise,
Or you, who think your selves extreamly wise.
My mind I will impartially speak;
I'll flatter none of you, but will expresse
With freedom. what I think upon the case:
Without regard to this poor man, who lies
On Dung-hill now, and whom all men despise,
Or you, who think your selves extreamly wise.
For I could never to this hour perswade
My self on any terms to learn the trade
Of flattering, especially where
The Cause of God's in hand, for there, O there,
Without regard to men, I must be free,
As all of my Profession should be.
Else, if I should at any time forbear
To speak, what God commands me, out of fear,
Of any Earthly Power, or meanly shrink
At threats of any, I might justly think,
I were unworthy of that Character
Which all that speak by inspiration bear.
My self on any terms to learn the trade
Of flattering, especially where
The Cause of God's in hand, for there, O there,
Without regard to men, I must be free,
285
Else, if I should at any time forbear
To speak, what God commands me, out of fear,
Of any Earthly Power, or meanly shrink
At threats of any, I might justly think,
I were unworthy of that Character
Which all that speak by inspiration bear.
Cap. XXXIII.
Wherefore I pray thee, Job, but hear me now,
And to what I design to speak, allow
But some attention, and I shall commend
Thy Patience, if thou hear me to an end.
And to what I design to speak, allow
But some attention, and I shall commend
Thy Patience, if thou hear me to an end.
For now, dear friend, that I intend to speak
Upon thy Case, I will indeed expect
Attentive silence, whilst impartially
I both demonstrate where thy Errors ly,
And where thou hast spoke right, for now I see
The whole weight of the Matter lyes on me.
Upon thy Case, I will indeed expect
Attentive silence, whilst impartially
I both demonstrate where thy Errors ly,
And where thou hast spoke right, for now I see
The whole weight of the Matter lyes on me.
I therefore plainly do intend to show
What I by certain information know:
Not what old Women feign, or old men dream,
Or what is scattered by injurious Fame
Through all the Neighbourhood, on this occasion,
But openly, without dissimulation,
I'le show thee, what my thoughts are of the thing,
On which I have heard so much reasoning.
What I by certain information know:
Not what old Women feign, or old men dream,
Or what is scattered by injurious Fame
Through all the Neighbourhood, on this occasion,
But openly, without dissimulation,
I'le show thee, what my thoughts are of the thing,
On which I have heard so much reasoning.
Now, though I am not far advanc'd in years,
And neither Head, nor Face, as yet appears
In the grave dye of a few withered Hairs.
Yet I'me a Man, a Creature rational,
And know as much, as any of you all,
For that good Spirit, which did me create,
Has taught me both to speak, and to debate,
On such occasions; and I do not know
Why that Almighty God, who first did blow
On this poor lump of Clay, might not have then
Inform'd me full as well, as other men,
With that high Knowledge, and made me advance
Beyond my years, in what, with Arrogance,
Our aged Men would to themselves enhaunce.
And neither Head, nor Face, as yet appears
In the grave dye of a few withered Hairs.
Yet I'me a Man, a Creature rational,
And know as much, as any of you all,
For that good Spirit, which did me create,
Has taught me both to speak, and to debate,
On such occasions; and I do not know
Why that Almighty God, who first did blow
On this poor lump of Clay, might not have then
Inform'd me full as well, as other men,
With that high Knowledge, and made me advance
Beyond my years, in what, with Arrogance,
Our aged Men would to themselves enhaunce.
Again, my friend, I'de have thee to give ear
To what I speak, because I am not here
To take advantage of thy misery,
And tell thee in thy face, so bitterly,
As these thy friends have done, that thou art lost,
Undone, adjudg'd to Wrath, thy Doom engross't;
And that bless'd Countenance, that Light divine,
Which on all those, whom God esteems doth shine,
Is as to thee eclips'd, and will no more
Refresh thy Soul, as it has done before.
No, in such terms I'le not my self express,
Nor use such harsh reflections, as these
Upon thy by-past life; which if, or no
'Twas such as they alledge, I do not know.
Nor will I check thee, when I hear thee speak
Of thy Integrity, or answer make
To what I charge thee, with firm Protestation,
Of thy unspotted Life, and Conversation.
No, thou shalt have free libertie for me
To answer for thy self, thou may'st be free,
In what thou hast to say in thy defence,
And openlie lay out thy Innocence,
With all the art thou canst: take courage then,
And be not overcome by what those men
Have spoke against thee: for I lay no hold
On their assertions; be thou therefore bold,
And speak out freely what in thy defence
Thou canst alledge, with all the eloquence,
God has afforded thee; be not afraid
Of mortal men, who usuallie upbraid
Their friends with sin, though neer so innocent,
When they perceive them in this exigent,
As thou art now, for if thou trulie be
Just, innocent, upright, from error free,
As thou seem'st to pretend, by all that's past,
Why shouldst thou not stand to it to the last.
To what I speak, because I am not here
To take advantage of thy misery,
And tell thee in thy face, so bitterly,
As these thy friends have done, that thou art lost,
Undone, adjudg'd to Wrath, thy Doom engross't;
And that bless'd Countenance, that Light divine,
286
Is as to thee eclips'd, and will no more
Refresh thy Soul, as it has done before.
No, in such terms I'le not my self express,
Nor use such harsh reflections, as these
Upon thy by-past life; which if, or no
'Twas such as they alledge, I do not know.
Nor will I check thee, when I hear thee speak
Of thy Integrity, or answer make
To what I charge thee, with firm Protestation,
Of thy unspotted Life, and Conversation.
No, thou shalt have free libertie for me
To answer for thy self, thou may'st be free,
In what thou hast to say in thy defence,
And openlie lay out thy Innocence,
With all the art thou canst: take courage then,
And be not overcome by what those men
Have spoke against thee: for I lay no hold
On their assertions; be thou therefore bold,
And speak out freely what in thy defence
Thou canst alledge, with all the eloquence,
God has afforded thee; be not afraid
Of mortal men, who usuallie upbraid
Their friends with sin, though neer so innocent,
When they perceive them in this exigent,
As thou art now, for if thou trulie be
Just, innocent, upright, from error free,
As thou seem'st to pretend, by all that's past,
Why shouldst thou not stand to it to the last.
Yes, why should'st not stand to it, for what thou
Hast all this while desir'd is granted now:
Thou didst desire that thou with God might'st plead,
Why do it now, for I am in his stead:
I have Commission from our Great Creator
To hear thee speak at large upon the matter:
Thou didst desire that he would hear thy case,
Why then, imagine I am in his place,
Appointed as his Auditor, say then,
Speak out thy mind, be not afraid of men:
For I, although I bear the character
Of the Almighties High Commissioner,
Yet I am but a man, as thou art, made
Of dust, and clay, be not thou then afraid
That I will crush thee, or increase thy woe,
By screwing up thy doleful sorrows, no,
I will not use such methods, but appear
As soft, as if I whisper'd in thy ear.
Hast all this while desir'd is granted now:
Thou didst desire that thou with God might'st plead,
Why do it now, for I am in his stead:
I have Commission from our Great Creator
To hear thee speak at large upon the matter:
Thou didst desire that he would hear thy case,
Why then, imagine I am in his place,
Appointed as his Auditor, say then,
Speak out thy mind, be not afraid of men:
For I, although I bear the character
Of the Almighties High Commissioner,
Yet I am but a man, as thou art, made
Of dust, and clay, be not thou then afraid
That I will crush thee, or increase thy woe,
By screwing up thy doleful sorrows, no,
I will not use such methods, but appear
As soft, as if I whisper'd in thy ear.
I will not use thee, as thy friends ha'done,
Nor shall my Language in their Channel run:
Such picquant words, as they have spoke, shall be
In my speech on the subject far from me.
Nor shall my Language in their Channel run:
Such picquant words, as they have spoke, shall be
In my speech on the subject far from me.
287
To tell thee freely then, I must complain
Of what I've heard thee speak once, and again:
I must reprove thee for some rash Expressions,
Which thou hast often used in thy Passions;
For, to my grief, my friend, I've heard thee speak,
What from a wise man I did not expect.
Of what I've heard thee speak once, and again:
I must reprove thee for some rash Expressions,
Which thou hast often used in thy Passions;
For, to my grief, my friend, I've heard thee speak,
What from a wise man I did not expect.
O, saidst thou, I am clean, and innocent,
Free of all sin, in Virtue eminent:
I know not what belongs to vice, not I,
Nor am acquainted with Iniquity.
Free of all sin, in Virtue eminent:
I know not what belongs to vice, not I,
Nor am acquainted with Iniquity.
Yet hath my great Creator punished
Me no less, then if I had merited
Such Judgments by my sins: his Wrath has seiz'd
Upon my very soul; and he is pleas'd,
'Stead of rewarding my Integrity,
To look upon me, as his Enemy:
'Has pick't a Quarrel with me, and of late
'Has sore oppress't me, for I know not what.
Me no less, then if I had merited
Such Judgments by my sins: his Wrath has seiz'd
Upon my very soul; and he is pleas'd,
'Stead of rewarding my Integrity,
To look upon me, as his Enemy:
'Has pick't a Quarrel with me, and of late
'Has sore oppress't me, for I know not what.
For, as a Malefactor I am us'd,
Arrested, clap't i'th' Stocks, Arraign'd, Accus'd,
Condemn'd, and Forfault, and yet all this time
He'll not let me so much as know my Crime.
Arrested, clap't i'th' Stocks, Arraign'd, Accus'd,
Condemn'd, and Forfault, and yet all this time
He'll not let me so much as know my Crime.
Why here, it is now, here, my friend, indeed
Thou grossly err'st: and if thou dost proceed
In such untam'd Expressions, as these,
Allow me, friend, to tell thee in thy face,
Wer't thou as upright, innocent, and just
As he, whom God did out of pregnant Dust
At first creat, before his foul Offence
Did stain the beauty of his Innocence:
Yet thus to talk, thus foolishly to prate,
Thus with thy Maker to expostulate,
As if he were thy Equal, is, my friend,
Such an escape, as no man can defend.
This is thy Crime, this is thy Fault indeed,
Thus guiltily thy Innocence to plead;
Thus in asserting thy Integrity
T'accuse Heavens Monarch of Iniquity,
Who is all Justice: Pray what dost thou mean,
Do'st think if thou be from all Error clean,
But he is far more clean; if thou be pure,
Upright, and just in all thy ways, why sure
He, who inspir'd thee, he who made thee live,
He, who to thee these Qualities did give
Must be more just, and upright, he must be
Far more then thou art, from all Error free.
Thou grossly err'st: and if thou dost proceed
In such untam'd Expressions, as these,
Allow me, friend, to tell thee in thy face,
Wer't thou as upright, innocent, and just
As he, whom God did out of pregnant Dust
At first creat, before his foul Offence
Did stain the beauty of his Innocence:
Yet thus to talk, thus foolishly to prate,
Thus with thy Maker to expostulate,
As if he were thy Equal, is, my friend,
Such an escape, as no man can defend.
This is thy Crime, this is thy Fault indeed,
Thus guiltily thy Innocence to plead;
Thus in asserting thy Integrity
T'accuse Heavens Monarch of Iniquity,
Who is all Justice: Pray what dost thou mean,
Do'st think if thou be from all Error clean,
But he is far more clean; if thou be pure,
Upright, and just in all thy ways, why sure
He, who inspir'd thee, he who made thee live,
He, who to thee these Qualities did give
Must be more just, and upright, he must be
Far more then thou art, from all Error free.
And as he's just, so he is likewise great,
For his Dominion is unlimitate:
He rules this spacious Universe alone,
And truely is accountable to none
For his procedure: why then would'st contend
With him, whose strength, and power doth far transcend
Thy weak Capacity: why would'st dispute
With him who is supream, and absolute
I'th' government o'th' World: with him, who sends
Blessings or Plagues on Enemies, or Friends,
As he thinks fit, and is not ty'd to give
To any curious Mortal that doth live,
A reason for his actings; no, not he;
And yet forsooth thou think'st he'll humour thee:
Thou thinks't he will thy longing satisfy,
And condescend t'assign a reason why
He thus doth plague thee: O yes, and do that,
In complaisance to thee, which he as yet
Has never done to any: prethee then
Forbear thy fretting, do no more complain;
But rest assur'd as well as other men,
That—
For any man, as thou dost to debate
With this great God, who all things did create,
Is such a piece of folly, as I may,
In truth, assert most freely, to this day
I have not heard the like: then once again,
My friend, I tell thee, do no more complain
As thou hast done, for if, with patience,
Thou cans't endure what God doth now dispense,
If thou canst suffer, what he doth ordain
At this time for thy Sentence; and abstain
From such Debatings, and Expostulations,
As only sinful men at such occasions
Do use, then by that single Argument
Thou'l't prove that thou art just, and innocent
More then by any I have heard, as yet
Manag'd by thee in all thy long Debate.
For his Dominion is unlimitate:
He rules this spacious Universe alone,
And truely is accountable to none
For his procedure: why then would'st contend
With him, whose strength, and power doth far transcend
Thy weak Capacity: why would'st dispute
With him who is supream, and absolute
288
Blessings or Plagues on Enemies, or Friends,
As he thinks fit, and is not ty'd to give
To any curious Mortal that doth live,
A reason for his actings; no, not he;
And yet forsooth thou think'st he'll humour thee:
Thou thinks't he will thy longing satisfy,
And condescend t'assign a reason why
He thus doth plague thee: O yes, and do that,
In complaisance to thee, which he as yet
Has never done to any: prethee then
Forbear thy fretting, do no more complain;
But rest assur'd as well as other men,
That—
For any man, as thou dost to debate
With this great God, who all things did create,
Is such a piece of folly, as I may,
In truth, assert most freely, to this day
I have not heard the like: then once again,
My friend, I tell thee, do no more complain
As thou hast done, for if, with patience,
Thou cans't endure what God doth now dispense,
If thou canst suffer, what he doth ordain
At this time for thy Sentence; and abstain
From such Debatings, and Expostulations,
As only sinful men at such occasions
Do use, then by that single Argument
Thou'l't prove that thou art just, and innocent
More then by any I have heard, as yet
Manag'd by thee in all thy long Debate.
But why all this complaining, why alace
Dost thou so much debate upon the Case,
As if God sent out Judgments here, and there,
Without so much as once declaring War,
But catching of his opportunities,
Did ruine honest Mortals by surprize.
Why here thou err'st too: here indeed, my friend,
Thou dost with God most foolishly contend:
For look you here now, why should we complain
That he doth deal surprizingly with men?
When every day he doth so openly
By th'out-crys of his sweating Ministry,
By Signs, Diseases, Visions, and even
By all the dreadful Heraldry of Heaven
Forwarn us of his Wrath to come, and yet
We understand not, till it be too late
This Universal Language, but complain
When Judgments come, that we are overtane
By meer surprize, and foolishly cry out
We had no warning, whilst in truth I doubt
We did not understand the Dialect,
Of him, who doth so often to us speak.
So that, my friend, thou should'st not thus exclaim
Against thy Maker, for thou art to blame,
Who didst not understand such revelations,
As usually preceed sad visitations.
For certainly, if thou wilt call to mind
Thy bypast life, I doubt not but thou'lt find
Th'hast had some warnings, were't but in a dream,
Of thy afflictions long before they came.
Dost thou so much debate upon the Case,
As if God sent out Judgments here, and there,
Without so much as once declaring War,
But catching of his opportunities,
Did ruine honest Mortals by surprize.
Why here thou err'st too: here indeed, my friend,
Thou dost with God most foolishly contend:
For look you here now, why should we complain
That he doth deal surprizingly with men?
When every day he doth so openly
By th'out-crys of his sweating Ministry,
By Signs, Diseases, Visions, and even
By all the dreadful Heraldry of Heaven
Forwarn us of his Wrath to come, and yet
We understand not, till it be too late
This Universal Language, but complain
When Judgments come, that we are overtane
By meer surprize, and foolishly cry out
We had no warning, whilst in truth I doubt
We did not understand the Dialect,
Of him, who doth so often to us speak.
So that, my friend, thou should'st not thus exclaim
Against thy Maker, for thou art to blame,
289
As usually preceed sad visitations.
For certainly, if thou wilt call to mind
Thy bypast life, I doubt not but thou'lt find
Th'hast had some warnings, were't but in a dream,
Of thy afflictions long before they came.
Yes, in a dream, for often-times I know,
God is accustom'd seriously to show
To men (what often they conceal for shame)
Their future state i'th' mirrour of a dream.
For when the active soul outwearied,
With toile o'th' day, at night is brought to bed
Of a sound sleep; then it begins to fly,
Then liberat from the bodies drudgery,
It soares aloft, and in another sphere
Begins to act: nay, then it doth appear,
To be, what we cannot imagine here.
For being then as fit for contemplation
Almost, as 'twill be after separation,
By vision intuitive it sees
The state of things to come, and by degrees
Becomes so subtile, and doth at that rate,
In contemplation then expatiate.
With such delight, as if it did not mean,
By natural Organs e're to act again:
But when some hours it has thus wandered,
And in that time God has discovered,
What for its profit he intends at large,
Then he commands it to its former charge.
God is accustom'd seriously to show
To men (what often they conceal for shame)
Their future state i'th' mirrour of a dream.
For when the active soul outwearied,
With toile o'th' day, at night is brought to bed
Of a sound sleep; then it begins to fly,
Then liberat from the bodies drudgery,
It soares aloft, and in another sphere
Begins to act: nay, then it doth appear,
To be, what we cannot imagine here.
For being then as fit for contemplation
Almost, as 'twill be after separation,
By vision intuitive it sees
The state of things to come, and by degrees
Becomes so subtile, and doth at that rate,
In contemplation then expatiate.
With such delight, as if it did not mean,
By natural Organs e're to act again:
But when some hours it has thus wandered,
And in that time God has discovered,
What for its profit he intends at large,
Then he commands it to its former charge.
Have you not sometimes seen a General,
His Officers to his Pavilion call,
Whilst all the Army do securely sleep,
Save a few Companies, who Guard do keep;
And there inform them what he would ha' done,
Give every one his Orders, and anon,
Command each to his Post: so let's suppose,
When in profoundest sleep, the eyes are close,
The Body, one would think, o're-come by death,
(Were't not that only it did softly breath.)
Th'Almighty then is pleas'd, as 'twere, to call
The soul unto him, and inform it all
What he intends to do with it, and then
Commands it to the sleeping Corps again:
Whether, when come the sad Noctambulant,
In a cold sweat, with fear, and rambling faint,
Rouzes the Body from its sleep, and then
Shows its instructions, and begins t'explain
What it has seen, and heard, and plainly shows
What Miseries, Calamities, and Woes,
They may expect God will to them dispense,
If not prevented by true penitence.
Then, as if God himself to them did speak,
When on these admonitions they reflect,
With fear, and horrour they begin to quake.
His Officers to his Pavilion call,
Whilst all the Army do securely sleep,
Save a few Companies, who Guard do keep;
And there inform them what he would ha' done,
Give every one his Orders, and anon,
Command each to his Post: so let's suppose,
When in profoundest sleep, the eyes are close,
The Body, one would think, o're-come by death,
(Were't not that only it did softly breath.)
Th'Almighty then is pleas'd, as 'twere, to call
The soul unto him, and inform it all
What he intends to do with it, and then
Commands it to the sleeping Corps again:
Whether, when come the sad Noctambulant,
In a cold sweat, with fear, and rambling faint,
Rouzes the Body from its sleep, and then
Shows its instructions, and begins t'explain
What it has seen, and heard, and plainly shows
What Miseries, Calamities, and Woes,
They may expect God will to them dispense,
If not prevented by true penitence.
Then, as if God himself to them did speak,
When on these admonitions they reflect,
With fear, and horrour they begin to quake.
290
For they consider that his sole intent
By these night-warnings, is but to prevent
Their total fall, and by such signs, as these,
Divert them from those foolish purposes,
Which in their hearts they proudly do intend
To prosecute, did he not kindly send
Such seasonable messages to show
What will be th'event, if they forward go,
In such mad projects, and by consequence
Make them to understand the difference
'Twixt humane power, and his Omnipotence.
By these night-warnings, is but to prevent
Their total fall, and by such signs, as these,
Divert them from those foolish purposes,
Which in their hearts they proudly do intend
To prosecute, did he not kindly send
Such seasonable messages to show
What will be th'event, if they forward go,
In such mad projects, and by consequence
Make them to understand the difference
'Twixt humane power, and his Omnipotence.
By Dreams and Visions then he doth allarme
Th'unwary race of man, and from all harm
Preserve both soul and body; which alace
Would fall into the dreadful ambushes
Of th'enemy o'th' world, wer't not that he
Who fram'd both soul and body, thus did free
Them both from danger, and did constantly
Mind their concerns, with a Paternal eye.
For else the murdered body soon would drop
Into the grave, the soul without all hope
Of pardon, in that deep abyss would fall,
Which God in justice has design'd for all
Whom he doth hate, and dolefully, in Chains,
Compare short pleasures, with eternal pains,
Thus then we see how much we should esteem
The ordinar Phænomenon of a dream,
And not contemn it, because usual,
As if a common accident to all
Occurring in their sleep, ane aëry thing,
Of which the wiser make no reckoning:
For sure those dreams, and visions contain
The mind of God, and are not shown in vain.
Th'unwary race of man, and from all harm
Preserve both soul and body; which alace
Would fall into the dreadful ambushes
Of th'enemy o'th' world, wer't not that he
Who fram'd both soul and body, thus did free
Them both from danger, and did constantly
Mind their concerns, with a Paternal eye.
For else the murdered body soon would drop
Into the grave, the soul without all hope
Of pardon, in that deep abyss would fall,
Which God in justice has design'd for all
Whom he doth hate, and dolefully, in Chains,
Compare short pleasures, with eternal pains,
Thus then we see how much we should esteem
The ordinar Phænomenon of a dream,
And not contemn it, because usual,
As if a common accident to all
Occurring in their sleep, ane aëry thing,
Of which the wiser make no reckoning:
For sure those dreams, and visions contain
The mind of God, and are not shown in vain.
Next, as by dreams, so by diseases too
The Spirit of God is pleased to allow
Kind warnings to us: for, if understood,
All sicknesses of body for our good,
Are sent upon us; so that did we know
What kindness by diseases God doth show
To our poor souls, we never would complain,
But think our selves most happy in our pain.
For let's observe now, don't we daily see
How man in health from all diseases free,
Consumes his precious years so wantonly,
As if he never did expect to die.
He so imploys his time in sinful pleasure,
As for devotion he can find no leasure:
But when diseases on his body seize,
And conquering death approaches by degrees:
When th'lungs all overflow'n with constant rain
Of Pituite, that falls down from the Brain,
Afford scarce room for breathing, when the Blood
Is in its Circulation withstood
By stagnant humours, when the Bones do ake,
And all the Pillars of the Body shake,
The Spirit of God is pleased to allow
Kind warnings to us: for, if understood,
All sicknesses of body for our good,
Are sent upon us; so that did we know
What kindness by diseases God doth show
To our poor souls, we never would complain,
But think our selves most happy in our pain.
For let's observe now, don't we daily see
How man in health from all diseases free,
Consumes his precious years so wantonly,
As if he never did expect to die.
He so imploys his time in sinful pleasure,
As for devotion he can find no leasure:
But when diseases on his body seize,
And conquering death approaches by degrees:
When th'lungs all overflow'n with constant rain
Of Pituite, that falls down from the Brain,
Afford scarce room for breathing, when the Blood
Is in its Circulation withstood
By stagnant humours, when the Bones do ake,
291
When for his food he has no appetite,
And in his Table he takes no delite.
But every dainty Dish doth nauseate,
On which, with pleasure he did feed of late.
And in his Table he takes no delite.
But every dainty Dish doth nauseate,
On which, with pleasure he did feed of late.
VVhen all his flesh, in health so plump and fair,
Now rotten, and consum'd, doth not appear
As formerly, but shrunk quite to the bone,
The bones, which were not seen before, anon
Stick out i'th' figure of a Skeleton.
Now rotten, and consum'd, doth not appear
As formerly, but shrunk quite to the bone,
The bones, which were not seen before, anon
Stick out i'th' figure of a Skeleton.
When in this sad condition on his bed
He lyes, and sees that all his hopes are fled,
And he must die: when all he can perceive
Is nothing but the avenue o'th' grave,
And with himself he now considereth
There's no avoiding of a certain death.
He lyes, and sees that all his hopes are fled,
And he must die: when all he can perceive
Is nothing but the avenue o'th' grave,
And with himself he now considereth
There's no avoiding of a certain death.
Then he begins with horrour to reflect
Upon his bypast actions, and take
Account of all his wandrings: then he falls
On thoughts of Heaven, and for Preachers calls:
For pious men, who in this sad occasion,
May by their words afford him consolation,
And teach him how he may attain salvation.
Then all his former wayes he doth abhorre,
Complains on sin, and can endure no more
To hear the voice of pleasure in his ears;
But buried now in sorrows, pains, and fears,
His only thought, his sole consideration
Is what shall become, after separation
Of his poor soul: how that in death shall fare,
For which, in life, he took so little care.
And if, perhaps (which is rare to be found)
A man of God appear, who can expound
The matter to him, and before his eyes
Draw out the Map of his iniquities,
Speak to his soul, and to his anxious heart.
The gracious language of the Heavens impart.
Upon his bypast actions, and take
Account of all his wandrings: then he falls
On thoughts of Heaven, and for Preachers calls:
For pious men, who in this sad occasion,
May by their words afford him consolation,
And teach him how he may attain salvation.
Then all his former wayes he doth abhorre,
Complains on sin, and can endure no more
To hear the voice of pleasure in his ears;
But buried now in sorrows, pains, and fears,
His only thought, his sole consideration
Is what shall become, after separation
Of his poor soul: how that in death shall fare,
For which, in life, he took so little care.
And if, perhaps (which is rare to be found)
A man of God appear, who can expound
The matter to him, and before his eyes
Draw out the Map of his iniquities,
Speak to his soul, and to his anxious heart.
The gracious language of the Heavens impart.
Then will this good man to his God address,
And say, have pity on this sinners case,
Father of mercy, for I'me confident
He of his sins doth seriously repent:
Restore him to his health, and let him see
How much, O Lord, he is oblig'd to thee;
Who, when thou couldst have ruin'd him with ease,
And made him perish in this sad disease,
Art pleas'd to let him live, that he may yet
Express thy glory in his mortal state.
To this petition God shall lovingly
Make answer well, this sinner shall not dye:
For I have found him in this exigent
Vext at his sins, and truly penitent:
Then let him live, for I his heart have try'd,
And for his errors he hath satisfy'd;
I'me reconcil'd, and freely to him give
Full liberty yet for some years to live.
And say, have pity on this sinners case,
Father of mercy, for I'me confident
He of his sins doth seriously repent:
Restore him to his health, and let him see
How much, O Lord, he is oblig'd to thee;
Who, when thou couldst have ruin'd him with ease,
And made him perish in this sad disease,
Art pleas'd to let him live, that he may yet
Express thy glory in his mortal state.
To this petition God shall lovingly
Make answer well, this sinner shall not dye:
For I have found him in this exigent
Vext at his sins, and truly penitent:
Then let him live, for I his heart have try'd,
And for his errors he hath satisfy'd;
I'me reconcil'd, and freely to him give
292
At this his sicknesse shall decrease apace,
His spirits shall return, and in his face,
The blossoms of new life shall then appear,
As when the Spring doth usher in the year:
His flesh shall be as soft, and delicate,
As it appear'd once in his infant state.
His spirits shall return, and in his face,
The blossoms of new life shall then appear,
As when the Spring doth usher in the year:
His flesh shall be as soft, and delicate,
As it appear'd once in his infant state.
But that's not all, for as to health restor'd,
So God to him most kindly shall afford
That sweet communion with himself, which all
Esteem so much, who on his Name do call:
And that bless'd comfort, which afflictions cloud,
So long time from this poor mans soul did shrowd,
Shall then more bright appear, and shine again,
As when the Sun triumphant after rain,
Unto the longing Earth himself displays,
And chears her up with warm refreshing rays:
Then he shall be above all calumny,
And shall rejoice in his integrity:
Shall pray to God, with successe, and no more
Sadly suspect, as he had done before,
That he, who dwells in Heaven did disdain
So much as t'hear him, when he did complain,
And all his tears, and prayers were in vain.
So God to him most kindly shall afford
That sweet communion with himself, which all
Esteem so much, who on his Name do call:
And that bless'd comfort, which afflictions cloud,
So long time from this poor mans soul did shrowd,
Shall then more bright appear, and shine again,
As when the Sun triumphant after rain,
Unto the longing Earth himself displays,
And chears her up with warm refreshing rays:
Then he shall be above all calumny,
And shall rejoice in his integrity:
Shall pray to God, with successe, and no more
Sadly suspect, as he had done before,
That he, who dwells in Heaven did disdain
So much as t'hear him, when he did complain,
And all his tears, and prayers were in vain.
For our good God in mercy infinite,
Be sure, my friend, doth take no small delite,
To save a sinner that is penitent,
When he perceives him heartily repent:
For often upon men he casts his eye,
Where if he in a corner doth espy
Some poor heart-bursting sinner on his knees,
Whose outrun eyes are now upon the lees,
Whose voice with crying to that note is shrunk,
As if he mutter'd through a hollow Trunk:
Who after many a sad, and killing groan,
Whose heat would almost melt a heart of stone,
In a few words, can only stammer out,
Lord, I have sinn'd,—and now what doth it boot?
What doth it boot, good Lord, what after all
My trade of sin, can I my profit call?
Ay me, good God, to what, by just account?
Doth th'provenue of all my sins amount?
What have I gain'd, alace, what have I gain'd?
To what have I by my dear sins attain'd?
How foolishly, good Lord, as now appears,
Have I consum'd my profitable years,
And spent the cream of all my youth, and strength,
In prosecution of what now at length,
Affords no profit to my soul, but brings
The thoughts of sad, and execrable things
Into my mind; which though I do deplore,
And, by thy grace, intend to act no more,
Yet the remembrance of my wanton years,
Present a prospect of perpetual fears
Before my eyes; and I still apprehend
That I shall justly suffer in the end
For all my sins, unless that thou in Grace
Wilt hear me, and have pity on my Case.
Be sure, my friend, doth take no small delite,
To save a sinner that is penitent,
When he perceives him heartily repent:
For often upon men he casts his eye,
Where if he in a corner doth espy
Some poor heart-bursting sinner on his knees,
Whose outrun eyes are now upon the lees,
Whose voice with crying to that note is shrunk,
As if he mutter'd through a hollow Trunk:
Who after many a sad, and killing groan,
Whose heat would almost melt a heart of stone,
In a few words, can only stammer out,
Lord, I have sinn'd,—and now what doth it boot?
What doth it boot, good Lord, what after all
My trade of sin, can I my profit call?
Ay me, good God, to what, by just account?
Doth th'provenue of all my sins amount?
What have I gain'd, alace, what have I gain'd?
To what have I by my dear sins attain'd?
How foolishly, good Lord, as now appears,
Have I consum'd my profitable years,
And spent the cream of all my youth, and strength,
In prosecution of what now at length,
Affords no profit to my soul, but brings
The thoughts of sad, and execrable things
Into my mind; which though I do deplore,
And, by thy grace, intend to act no more,
Yet the remembrance of my wanton years,
293
Before my eyes; and I still apprehend
That I shall justly suffer in the end
For all my sins, unless that thou in Grace
Wilt hear me, and have pity on my Case.
This poor convinced sinner God will hear,
And to him soon most gracious appear;
He will not let him perish, but will save
His soul from Hell, his body from the Grave.
And to him soon most gracious appear;
He will not let him perish, but will save
His soul from Hell, his body from the Grave.
Thus then by Dreams, by Visions, and Diseases,
And by his Preachers, whensoere he pleases,
He warns us of our danger, and commands
His killing Angels oft to hold their hands,
For a few years at least, that he may see
What the effects will of these Warnings be.
And by his Preachers, whensoere he pleases,
He warns us of our danger, and commands
His killing Angels oft to hold their hands,
For a few years at least, that he may see
What the effects will of these Warnings be.
For in mens ruine he no pleasure takes,
But even suspends his Justice for their sakes,
That they may have some leasure to repent,
And not be reeking in Offences sent
Like Devils, t'endure eternal punishment.
But of their foolish Errors undeceiv'd,
Spite of themselves they may at length be sav'd.
But even suspends his Justice for their sakes,
That they may have some leasure to repent,
And not be reeking in Offences sent
Like Devils, t'endure eternal punishment.
But of their foolish Errors undeceiv'd,
Spite of themselves they may at length be sav'd.
Then pray, my friend, remark what I have said
And to what I have yet to say take heed:
Observe me, pray, and to my words give ear
For it is fit thou with attention hear
What God has by Commission ordered me
To speak, dear friend, in reference to thee.
And to what I have yet to say take heed:
Observe me, pray, and to my words give ear
For it is fit thou with attention hear
What God has by Commission ordered me
To speak, dear friend, in reference to thee.
Yet if th'hast any thing to say, my friend,
In thy defence, I'le not be so unkind,
As to command thee silence, but allow
Thee liberty to speak, and argue too
Against what I have said, for my intent
I'th' series of my present Argument,
Is, (if I can) to prove thee Innocent.
In thy defence, I'le not be so unkind,
As to command thee silence, but allow
Thee liberty to speak, and argue too
Against what I have said, for my intent
I'th' series of my present Argument,
Is, (if I can) to prove thee Innocent.
If not, pray hold thy peace, be silent pray
And with attentive mind mark what I say,
Mark what I say, for by his Divine Grace,
Who ordered me to speak upon this Case,
I'le teach thee Wisdom, more then ever yet
Thou understood'st, although thou wert of late
Renown'd for Wit, and Literature, at least,
In Reputation rank'd amongst the best,
Of those sharp Wits, who live here in the East.
And with attentive mind mark what I say,
Mark what I say, for by his Divine Grace,
Who ordered me to speak upon this Case,
I'le teach thee Wisdom, more then ever yet
Thou understood'st, although thou wert of late
Renown'd for Wit, and Literature, at least,
In Reputation rank'd amongst the best,
Of those sharp Wits, who live here in the East.
Cap. XXXIV.
After some pause, as if he did expect
An answer, seeing Job no answer make
To what he said, he thus continued
To speak, and argue on the common Head.
An answer, seeing Job no answer make
To what he said, he thus continued
To speak, and argue on the common Head.
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And now, says he, you see how I am sent,
By warrand from my God, to represent
His judgment of the Question in hand,
And therefore I must let you understand,
(As I'me commanded) with Authority,
Where you've done right, and where your Errors ly.
Shall then request you of my audience;
Whom I esteem men of great eminence,
For wit, and parts, to hear with patience,
What I am now to speak.—
By warrand from my God, to represent
His judgment of the Question in hand,
And therefore I must let you understand,
(As I'me commanded) with Authority,
Where you've done right, and where your Errors ly.
Shall then request you of my audience;
Whom I esteem men of great eminence,
For wit, and parts, to hear with patience,
What I am now to speak.—
For I am not to speak before a Rabble
O'th' Vulgar, but before those, who are able
To judge of my Discourse: before such men,
As on this Subject, can themselves explain
Better then I, and handle, with more wit,
The Question, if their Passion would permit.
O'th' Vulgar, but before those, who are able
To judge of my Discourse: before such men,
As on this Subject, can themselves explain
Better then I, and handle, with more wit,
The Question, if their Passion would permit.
Let's then impartially consider now,
Without all heat, what 'tis we have to do:
With moderation, let's the Question state,
And understand on what we're to debate:
For I am not ambitious in the least,
Nor do I entertain within my breast
Such a proud thought, as that I may be said
T'have had the better of you, no indeed,
I'me none of those, that argue for applause,
Or love to preach fot reputations cause,
Or in discoursing make it all my care,
To angle Ears, and become Popular,
By flourishes of studied Eloquence,
Or gain the name of learn'd, with great expence,
Of painted Language, as too many now,
Of my Profession are in use to do:
No, no, my friends, I hate such practices,
And only shall in a few passages,
Without all Art, a short Relation make,
Of what my God has ord'red me to speak.
Without all heat, what 'tis we have to do:
With moderation, let's the Question state,
And understand on what we're to debate:
For I am not ambitious in the least,
Nor do I entertain within my breast
Such a proud thought, as that I may be said
T'have had the better of you, no indeed,
I'me none of those, that argue for applause,
Or love to preach fot reputations cause,
Or in discoursing make it all my care,
To angle Ears, and become Popular,
By flourishes of studied Eloquence,
Or gain the name of learn'd, with great expence,
Of painted Language, as too many now,
Of my Profession are in use to do:
No, no, my friends, I hate such practices,
And only shall in a few passages,
Without all Art, a short Relation make,
Of what my God has ord'red me to speak.
To come to th'point then, as I've formerly
Show'n how th'Almighty, by his Ministry,
By Dreams, Diseases, Visions, and such means,
Is, in his Mercy, pleas'd to take much pains,
To show the sons of Men what he intends,
Before upon them he Afflictions sends,
That by the prospect of their Punishment,
He may perswade them timely to repent:
Especially, when thus before their eyes
He lays the scene of their Calamities,
By which you see, he deals not, by surprize
With any man; (from whence I do maintain,
That he who of his Judgments doth complain,
As if such Woes, without prediction were
Pour'd out upon him, doth extreamly err.)
So, in the next place, I intend to show,
That when our God is pleas'd to inflict a blow
On anie man, I think, in conscience,
Th'afflicted man should with great patience,
Endure it, as a thing which suddainlie
Has not befallen him, and not foolishlie
Cry out, as Job has done, O Lord, thou seest
I'me righteous, pure, and just, and yet opprest
By sad afflictions: I am innocent,
My uprightness is clear, and evident,
My life has still been spotless, and unblam'd,
Yet without hearing I am now condemn'd.
Show'n how th'Almighty, by his Ministry,
By Dreams, Diseases, Visions, and such means,
Is, in his Mercy, pleas'd to take much pains,
To show the sons of Men what he intends,
Before upon them he Afflictions sends,
That by the prospect of their Punishment,
He may perswade them timely to repent:
Especially, when thus before their eyes
He lays the scene of their Calamities,
By which you see, he deals not, by surprize
With any man; (from whence I do maintain,
That he who of his Judgments doth complain,
As if such Woes, without prediction were
Pour'd out upon him, doth extreamly err.)
So, in the next place, I intend to show,
That when our God is pleas'd to inflict a blow
295
Th'afflicted man should with great patience,
Endure it, as a thing which suddainlie
Has not befallen him, and not foolishlie
Cry out, as Job has done, O Lord, thou seest
I'me righteous, pure, and just, and yet opprest
By sad afflictions: I am innocent,
My uprightness is clear, and evident,
My life has still been spotless, and unblam'd,
Yet without hearing I am now condemn'd.
O, sayes he, why should I my my self belie,
Why should I pass from my integritie
For what has yet befall'n me, no indeed,
Though I'me condemn'd, though I am punished,
Yet will I not, for all that, guilty plead.
Why should I pass from my integritie
For what has yet befall'n me, no indeed,
Though I'me condemn'd, though I am punished,
Yet will I not, for all that, guilty plead.
Here lyes the matter then my friends, see here,
See here how much the best of men may err
Under sad Tryals; how much those may fail,
Over whose patience Sorrows do prevail.
For pray now, let me hear from such as you,
Who this wise man in dayes of plentie knew:
Who were intirelie with him then acquaint,
Before th'arrival of his punishment:
Tell me, my friends, did ever you expect,
So like a fool, to hear this wise man speak?
Did ever man talk so ridiculouslie,
As he doth now of his integritie?
Did ever man of Knowledge, Wit, and Sense
Insist so much upon his Innocence?
His Dove-like Innocence; his Uprightness,
His pious Candour, and his Righteousness:
When God, in Justice, has thought fit to send
Afflictions on him, as if he'd defend
Himself, by such weak Arguments, as these,
Against the righteous God of Righteousness.
And flatly say that such a man as he,
An upright man, a man from errors free,
A man, in all his Life, and Conversation,
So blameless, as he ne'r would give Occasion,
By any crime to so much Provocation
Of Divine Wrath: that such a man as he
Should feel the Wrath of God, to that degree,
As if he were the most flagitious,
Most openly profane, and vitious
Of all the race of Sinners, and repute
Of all that live on Earth most dissolute:
That such as he should thus be punished
Is a most strange Procedure, and indeed,
In his opinion, doth import no less,
Then if our God did favour Wickedness,
And most unjustly punish'd Righteousness,
See here how much the best of men may err
Under sad Tryals; how much those may fail,
Over whose patience Sorrows do prevail.
For pray now, let me hear from such as you,
Who this wise man in dayes of plentie knew:
Who were intirelie with him then acquaint,
Before th'arrival of his punishment:
Tell me, my friends, did ever you expect,
So like a fool, to hear this wise man speak?
Did ever man talk so ridiculouslie,
As he doth now of his integritie?
Did ever man of Knowledge, Wit, and Sense
Insist so much upon his Innocence?
His Dove-like Innocence; his Uprightness,
His pious Candour, and his Righteousness:
When God, in Justice, has thought fit to send
Afflictions on him, as if he'd defend
Himself, by such weak Arguments, as these,
Against the righteous God of Righteousness.
And flatly say that such a man as he,
An upright man, a man from errors free,
A man, in all his Life, and Conversation,
So blameless, as he ne'r would give Occasion,
By any crime to so much Provocation
Of Divine Wrath: that such a man as he
Should feel the Wrath of God, to that degree,
As if he were the most flagitious,
Most openly profane, and vitious
Of all the race of Sinners, and repute
Of all that live on Earth most dissolute:
That such as he should thus be punished
Is a most strange Procedure, and indeed,
In his opinion, doth import no less,
Then if our God did favour Wickedness,
And most unjustly punish'd Righteousness,
Yes, thus, or to this purpose he has spoke
Oftner then once, as if he seem'd to mock
Th'Almighty in his works of Providence,
And by his Logick, would infer from thence,
That he, who lives by rules of Piety,
Observes Gods Laws, and studies zealously
T'obtain his favour; and the sinful Wretch,
Who vainly thinks himself without his reach,
And therefore scorns to call upon his Name,
But takes his pleasure, without fear, or shame,
Are all one on the matter, and as well
The one, as th'other may his anger feel,
And suffer what he pleases to dispense,
This for his sin, that for his innocence,
By an unguarded cast of Providence.
Oftner then once, as if he seem'd to mock
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And by his Logick, would infer from thence,
That he, who lives by rules of Piety,
Observes Gods Laws, and studies zealously
T'obtain his favour; and the sinful Wretch,
Who vainly thinks himself without his reach,
And therefore scorns to call upon his Name,
But takes his pleasure, without fear, or shame,
Are all one on the matter, and as well
The one, as th'other may his anger feel,
And suffer what he pleases to dispense,
This for his sin, that for his innocence,
By an unguarded cast of Providence.
Yes, to my knowledge, thus I heard him speak
Most frequently, although I would not check
His leud Discourse, 'cause you had undertane
By solid Reason to convince the man,
Of his Impiety, but when I see
You on the matter err'd as well, as he,
Then would I fain ha' spoke, but still did shun
To tell my thoughts on't, until you had done
But how can I from speaking now forbear
When I do such unruly Language hear?
When I do hear a man so sinfully,
Assert forsooth his own Integrity,
By blaming of his Maker, as if he,
To whom both this injurious man, and we,
And all the mortal Stock of Mankind owe
Our Life, and Beeing, did not fully know
Each individual of his own Creation,
And did observe the Life, and Conversation,
Of every man alive, and so from thence,
Could freely judge, with great convenience
Both of mens Guilt, and of their Innocence,
Could be unjust.
What man is he, who this great God doth fear,
That can without some indignation hear
Such scandalous Expressions? at this rate
Th'unwary man seems to homologate
The Principles of the most leud, profane,
Sensual livers, and the worst of men.
Most frequently, although I would not check
His leud Discourse, 'cause you had undertane
By solid Reason to convince the man,
Of his Impiety, but when I see
You on the matter err'd as well, as he,
Then would I fain ha' spoke, but still did shun
To tell my thoughts on't, until you had done
But how can I from speaking now forbear
When I do such unruly Language hear?
When I do hear a man so sinfully,
Assert forsooth his own Integrity,
By blaming of his Maker, as if he,
To whom both this injurious man, and we,
And all the mortal Stock of Mankind owe
Our Life, and Beeing, did not fully know
Each individual of his own Creation,
And did observe the Life, and Conversation,
Of every man alive, and so from thence,
Could freely judge, with great convenience
Both of mens Guilt, and of their Innocence,
Could be unjust.
What man is he, who this great God doth fear,
That can without some indignation hear
Such scandalous Expressions? at this rate
Th'unwary man seems to homologate
The Principles of the most leud, profane,
Sensual livers, and the worst of men.
For, when he talk'd so oft, how God did bless
Those, who contemn'd his Laws, and did oppress
His faithful Servants, and did so complain
Of his own sad Estate, once, and again,
And how that notwithstanding of his zeal,
And fear of God, he was not used well:
Who would ha' thought, but that he mean't from thence,
That seeing Piety could be no defence
Against Gods Wrath, it was not worth th'expence
Of so much time and labour, as some men
Bestow upon it, but was all in vain.
Those, who contemn'd his Laws, and did oppress
His faithful Servants, and did so complain
Of his own sad Estate, once, and again,
And how that notwithstanding of his zeal,
And fear of God, he was not used well:
Who would ha' thought, but that he mean't from thence,
That seeing Piety could be no defence
Against Gods Wrath, it was not worth th'expence
Of so much time and labour, as some men
Bestow upon it, but was all in vain.
297
Strange language truly! I beseech you then,
Who hear me now, as wise, and prudent men:
Did y'ever hear a godly man expresse
His mind, in such unlawful words, as these?
Did y'ever hear a man for wit repute,
Above his neighbours, so with God dispute?
O, how I pity, and would fain reclaim
This good man from his errors: though I blame
Him not, as you have done, for horrid crimes
Committed by him in his prosperous times;
For, truth, I think the man was always such,
As he doth now assert, but that so much
He now insists on his integrity,
As if that God had done him injury,
In thus afflicting of him, is indeed
Such an offence, as cann't be suffered.
For God forbid, that any of us here,
Or through the world, who our great God do fear,
Should even but by a random supposition,
Imagine him to be in that condition,
As that he's of injustice capable,
At any rate: no this were palpable,
And down-right blasphemy; pray God forbid,
That any man then should be so misled,
But even to rally in such words as these,
Were't but to show his wit, for I confesse,
Though I relate them, on this sad occasion,
Meerly upon design of refutation
Of his grosse errors, yet when I do speak,
In such prohibit words, my bones do shake.
Who hear me now, as wise, and prudent men:
Did y'ever hear a godly man expresse
His mind, in such unlawful words, as these?
Did y'ever hear a man for wit repute,
Above his neighbours, so with God dispute?
O, how I pity, and would fain reclaim
This good man from his errors: though I blame
Him not, as you have done, for horrid crimes
Committed by him in his prosperous times;
For, truth, I think the man was always such,
As he doth now assert, but that so much
He now insists on his integrity,
As if that God had done him injury,
In thus afflicting of him, is indeed
Such an offence, as cann't be suffered.
For God forbid, that any of us here,
Or through the world, who our great God do fear,
Should even but by a random supposition,
Imagine him to be in that condition,
As that he's of injustice capable,
At any rate: no this were palpable,
And down-right blasphemy; pray God forbid,
That any man then should be so misled,
But even to rally in such words as these,
Were't but to show his wit, for I confesse,
Though I relate them, on this sad occasion,
Meerly upon design of refutation
Of his grosse errors, yet when I do speak,
In such prohibit words, my bones do shake.
For God's so far from doing injury,
To any man, that he will gratefully,
Reward each mortal for his piety,
In his own time: for when the day shall come,
In which all sinners shall receive their Doom,
Then will his kindnesse unto those appear,
Who live by rules of piety, though here,
Such is their weakness, and impatience,
Consulting only with desponding sense,
They see not the design of Providence.
To any man, that he will gratefully,
Reward each mortal for his piety,
In his own time: for when the day shall come,
In which all sinners shall receive their Doom,
Then will his kindnesse unto those appear,
Who live by rules of piety, though here,
Such is their weakness, and impatience,
Consulting only with desponding sense,
They see not the design of Providence.
Nay, I do lay this for a principle,
And firmly hold, that 'tis not possible,
For the great God of justice, him, from whom,
Both in times past, and in all times to come,
All justice flowes, (let's fancy what we can)
To be injust i'th' least to any man.
And firmly hold, that 'tis not possible,
For the great God of justice, him, from whom,
Both in times past, and in all times to come,
All justice flowes, (let's fancy what we can)
To be injust i'th' least to any man.
Besides, how can we think that he, whose power
Did all things frame, and governs to this hour,
All he has made, so uncontrolably,
By rules of justice, and pure equity,
Can be unjust? then who is he so sick
In his own judgement, as dares contradict
What he, who is accountable to none,
In his eternal purpose will have done?
Did all things frame, and governs to this hour,
All he has made, so uncontrolably,
By rules of justice, and pure equity,
Can be unjust? then who is he so sick
In his own judgement, as dares contradict
What he, who is accountable to none,
298
For, mark me now, if he, who breath did give
To any man, by which he made him live,
Be pleas'd to reassume that breath again,
Which is his own, why should a man complain?
To any man, by which he made him live,
Be pleas'd to reassume that breath again,
Which is his own, why should a man complain?
Why should a man complain? a living man,
Who knows at best his life is but a span;
And in a little interval of breath,
He lives, but troubled still with thoughts of death:
For when his God thinks fit, that he should die,
Then must he quit this breath, and instantly
In the cold grave lye down, and be no more
A living mortal, as he was before.
All flesh shall perish, every creature must,
At his command be pounded into dust.
Then why of God should any man complain?
When he injures him not, or why in vain,
Should he upbraid him with his innocence,
When he's afflicted, as if providence
Were ty'd to th'rules of his convenience.
Who knows at best his life is but a span;
And in a little interval of breath,
He lives, but troubled still with thoughts of death:
For when his God thinks fit, that he should die,
Then must he quit this breath, and instantly
In the cold grave lye down, and be no more
A living mortal, as he was before.
All flesh shall perish, every creature must,
At his command be pounded into dust.
Then why of God should any man complain?
When he injures him not, or why in vain,
Should he upbraid him with his innocence,
When he's afflicted, as if providence
Were ty'd to th'rules of his convenience.
And now because, my friend, what I have said
Concerns thee most, I'de fain my self perswade
That thou dost with attention hear me speak,
And dost thy own use of my Doctrine make;
If thou hast understanding then, take heed
To my discourse, for thus I do proceed.
Concerns thee most, I'de fain my self perswade
That thou dost with attention hear me speak,
And dost thy own use of my Doctrine make;
If thou hast understanding then, take heed
To my discourse, for thus I do proceed.
You see then how I've urged all along,
That our just God to no man can do wrong:
Nor that he, in inflicting punishment,
On any man, though ne're so innocent,
Can be esteem'd unjust: since he can never
Do an ill thing, on what account soever.
For, were he such, how could he regulate
The Universe in every rank and state,
With so much justice, mercy, and compassion,
As no created thing can in that fashion
Govern some Petty Province, yet doth he
With great discretion govern all we see,
Although he here, and in Heav'ns, (knows not what
'Tis in dominion to be limitat.)
How in thy raving then dar'st thou express
Thy self in such unheard of terms, as these
Which I have tax'd? how darst thou thus exclaim
Against the justice of thy God? for shame,
For shame such exclamations forbear,
And let's no more of thy complaining hear.
That our just God to no man can do wrong:
Nor that he, in inflicting punishment,
On any man, though ne're so innocent,
Can be esteem'd unjust: since he can never
Do an ill thing, on what account soever.
For, were he such, how could he regulate
The Universe in every rank and state,
With so much justice, mercy, and compassion,
As no created thing can in that fashion
Govern some Petty Province, yet doth he
With great discretion govern all we see,
Although he here, and in Heav'ns, (knows not what
'Tis in dominion to be limitat.)
How in thy raving then dar'st thou express
Thy self in such unheard of terms, as these
Which I have tax'd? how darst thou thus exclaim
Against the justice of thy God? for shame,
For shame such exclamations forbear,
And let's no more of thy complaining hear.
For pray now, let me ask thee, is it fit
Dost think for any man of solid wit,
To tell an earthly Monarch in his face,
That he's unjust, or doth in any case
That which is sinful: would'st thou tell a King
Hee's such, as he deserved not to reign:
Would'st tell him flatly, that his Government
Were arbitrary and did represent
The seas, whose politicks, tyrannical,
Allows the great fish to eat up the small.
Would'st speak at this rate, prethee to a King,
A Potentate, or any ruling thing
That sits in State? I doubt thou wouldst not do
So foul a thing, especially thou
Who know'st all pow'rs on earth from God proceed
And upon him depend, as on their head:
By him Kings rule, and in their Royal seat,
Impartial Justice do administrat
To all their Subjects: countable to none
For any actings, but to God alone,
To God alone, whose mighty hands did frame
This Universe, and to it gave the name
Of earth,—
Which he has slyc'd in many Provinces,
And over them has plac'd those Deputies
Whom we call Princes, men of great esteem,
Since the great King of kings is pleas'd to them
To grant Commissions of Lieutenancy,
Each, in his own distinct Locality
In all the parts of earths vast Monarchy.
Hence all men are oblig'd in conscience,
To pay that due respect, and deference
To all in power, which God has ordered,
Especially to a Crowned head;
Whose individual power in Government,
Doth that of Heav'ns more highly represent,
Then any other Government as yet
Devis'd by men; for in that single state
He represents his God, who gave him power,
And who in his great wisdome to this hour
Maintains the state of Kings, and will defend
The Crown, and Scepter, to the worlds end.
His power is such, as none should countermand,
Or, when he strikes should bid him hold his hand:
Nay, though he act unjustly, yet should none
Accuse him for it, since to God alone
Hee's countable; and though he should commit
The worst of sins, I do not think it fit
Each Subject should reprove him, or because
Of his few pers'nal failings, slight his Laws:
Or enter into plots of discontent,
To alter, or subvert his Government:
Because he is not such, as they would have him,
Or with their clamorous tongues, and pens out-brave him.
No, not at all, for though a Prince may erre,
As other mortals, we should not inferre
From thence, that it is lawful to rebell
Against him, for as such bad thoughts from Hell
Are prompted to us, so we should forbear
T'have entercourse with any rebels there,
Whose work it is to raise rebellion here.
For though the Prince should erre, th'authority
Is still the same, which flowing certainly
From the Almighty, we should all obey,
And to our soveraign Kings all honour pay.
I ask thee then, would'st think it fit to use
Such language to a King, wouldst thou accuse
A Monarch in his face? I think indeed,
Thou would not so imprudently proceed,
With any such, but rather hold thy peace,
Then run the risque, whatever were thy case,
Of his displeasure: or, at least, I doubt,
Wouldst use smooth words, and be thought wise to boot.
Dost think for any man of solid wit,
To tell an earthly Monarch in his face,
That he's unjust, or doth in any case
That which is sinful: would'st thou tell a King
Hee's such, as he deserved not to reign:
Would'st tell him flatly, that his Government
Were arbitrary and did represent
299
Allows the great fish to eat up the small.
Would'st speak at this rate, prethee to a King,
A Potentate, or any ruling thing
That sits in State? I doubt thou wouldst not do
So foul a thing, especially thou
Who know'st all pow'rs on earth from God proceed
And upon him depend, as on their head:
By him Kings rule, and in their Royal seat,
Impartial Justice do administrat
To all their Subjects: countable to none
For any actings, but to God alone,
To God alone, whose mighty hands did frame
This Universe, and to it gave the name
Of earth,—
Which he has slyc'd in many Provinces,
And over them has plac'd those Deputies
Whom we call Princes, men of great esteem,
Since the great King of kings is pleas'd to them
To grant Commissions of Lieutenancy,
Each, in his own distinct Locality
In all the parts of earths vast Monarchy.
Hence all men are oblig'd in conscience,
To pay that due respect, and deference
To all in power, which God has ordered,
Especially to a Crowned head;
Whose individual power in Government,
Doth that of Heav'ns more highly represent,
Then any other Government as yet
Devis'd by men; for in that single state
He represents his God, who gave him power,
And who in his great wisdome to this hour
Maintains the state of Kings, and will defend
The Crown, and Scepter, to the worlds end.
His power is such, as none should countermand,
Or, when he strikes should bid him hold his hand:
Nay, though he act unjustly, yet should none
Accuse him for it, since to God alone
Hee's countable; and though he should commit
The worst of sins, I do not think it fit
Each Subject should reprove him, or because
Of his few pers'nal failings, slight his Laws:
Or enter into plots of discontent,
To alter, or subvert his Government:
Because he is not such, as they would have him,
Or with their clamorous tongues, and pens out-brave him.
No, not at all, for though a Prince may erre,
As other mortals, we should not inferre
From thence, that it is lawful to rebell
Against him, for as such bad thoughts from Hell
Are prompted to us, so we should forbear
T'have entercourse with any rebels there,
Whose work it is to raise rebellion here.
For though the Prince should erre, th'authority
300
From the Almighty, we should all obey,
And to our soveraign Kings all honour pay.
I ask thee then, would'st think it fit to use
Such language to a King, wouldst thou accuse
A Monarch in his face? I think indeed,
Thou would not so imprudently proceed,
With any such, but rather hold thy peace,
Then run the risque, whatever were thy case,
Of his displeasure: or, at least, I doubt,
Wouldst use smooth words, and be thought wise to boot.
If then to Kings on Earth thou wouldst not speak
In such rude language, why art thou so weak,
As in such jargon boldly to addresse
Thy self to th'King of Kings? I must confess,
This is a piece of that extravagance,
As I admire thou hast the countenance
To look up t'Heavens, when thou dost reflect,
How insolently thou didst lately speak
Of their great Monarch: one, before whose Throne
All Kings most bow, and with submission own
Him as their Patron, and their Soveraign too,
And think't their greatest honour so to doe.
One who has no regard for this, or 'tother,
Who e're he be, nor one before another
Esteems, as we do here, because he's great,
Wears costly Diadems, and sits in State;
For, they're but all his Creatures, and depend
Upon their God, how e're they may pretend
To soveraignity here; whilst they abuse
Their power, and with fine titles would amuse
Their fellow mortals; but 'tis all in vain,
For God alone, above all Kings doth reign:
He governs all that Nature comprehends,
And fully acts, what ever he intends.
Whilst Kings and Princes, with their swords in hand,
Before him ready, for performance stand,
Of all that he thinks proper to command,
Yet none of these can really be said,
Actively to concur, and furnish aid
To him in all his glorious operations;
The thoughts of which exceed our meditations,
More then if one should undertake to prove,
That wheels in Engines by themselves do move
Without a Spring: or that without all air
A man can live: which clearly doth declare
That all these Monarchs, whom we here adore,
Not mov'd by the first Mover, are no more,
With all the force they to the field can bring,
Then Wheels in Engines are without a Spring.
For, as so many puppits here below,
By th'hand of God they're hurried to, and fro,
While he is pleased to keep up the Show.
But when he doth withdraw his mighty hand,
They move no more.—
O, this great Monarch of the universe!
Who can his glorious Attributes rehearse!
Who can the power of this great Prince express!
Who can his glory even but faintly guess!
He who doth Kings, and Emperours create,
As he thinks fit, and orders every state
Below the Heavens, as he thinks pertinent,
Whether for blessing, or for punishment,
Who can describe him!—
For, if at any time he doth intend
To plague a Nation, thither he doth send
Some sullen Tyrant, fraught with Cruelty,
Pride, Anger, Avarice, and Impiety:
And where he means a blessing to a State,
Thither as quickly he doth delegate
Some sober, prudent Prince, of generous Parts,
A friend to peace, a favourer of Arts,
Where either in their stations do move,
As they receive directions from above.
In such rude language, why art thou so weak,
As in such jargon boldly to addresse
Thy self to th'King of Kings? I must confess,
This is a piece of that extravagance,
As I admire thou hast the countenance
To look up t'Heavens, when thou dost reflect,
How insolently thou didst lately speak
Of their great Monarch: one, before whose Throne
All Kings most bow, and with submission own
Him as their Patron, and their Soveraign too,
And think't their greatest honour so to doe.
One who has no regard for this, or 'tother,
Who e're he be, nor one before another
Esteems, as we do here, because he's great,
Wears costly Diadems, and sits in State;
For, they're but all his Creatures, and depend
Upon their God, how e're they may pretend
To soveraignity here; whilst they abuse
Their power, and with fine titles would amuse
Their fellow mortals; but 'tis all in vain,
For God alone, above all Kings doth reign:
He governs all that Nature comprehends,
And fully acts, what ever he intends.
Whilst Kings and Princes, with their swords in hand,
Before him ready, for performance stand,
Of all that he thinks proper to command,
Yet none of these can really be said,
Actively to concur, and furnish aid
To him in all his glorious operations;
The thoughts of which exceed our meditations,
More then if one should undertake to prove,
That wheels in Engines by themselves do move
Without a Spring: or that without all air
A man can live: which clearly doth declare
That all these Monarchs, whom we here adore,
Not mov'd by the first Mover, are no more,
With all the force they to the field can bring,
Then Wheels in Engines are without a Spring.
For, as so many puppits here below,
By th'hand of God they're hurried to, and fro,
While he is pleased to keep up the Show.
But when he doth withdraw his mighty hand,
They move no more.—
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Who can his glorious Attributes rehearse!
Who can the power of this great Prince express!
Who can his glory even but faintly guess!
He who doth Kings, and Emperours create,
As he thinks fit, and orders every state
Below the Heavens, as he thinks pertinent,
Whether for blessing, or for punishment,
Who can describe him!—
For, if at any time he doth intend
To plague a Nation, thither he doth send
Some sullen Tyrant, fraught with Cruelty,
Pride, Anger, Avarice, and Impiety:
And where he means a blessing to a State,
Thither as quickly he doth delegate
Some sober, prudent Prince, of generous Parts,
A friend to peace, a favourer of Arts,
Where either in their stations do move,
As they receive directions from above.
Sure then, as he's undoubted Lord of all
This spacious World, so he's impartial,
In all his ways, he no man will despise,
'Cause poor; for rich, and poor are in his eyes,
Both the same thing: their virtues, and their crimes,
He doth reward, and punish at all times,
As either of 'em in their Orbs do rise,
Without distinction of their qualities.
This spacious World, so he's impartial,
In all his ways, he no man will despise,
'Cause poor; for rich, and poor are in his eyes,
Both the same thing: their virtues, and their crimes,
He doth reward, and punish at all times,
As either of 'em in their Orbs do rise,
Without distinction of their qualities.
For all those powerful Princes, who to day,
Appear in Robes most gloriously gay:
Who with their present state so proudly swell,
They laugh at the Romance of Heaven, and Hell:
To morrow you may see them poorly ly,
Like other parcels of Mortality,
Incorporat with Dust, for all must dy
When God commands, all must resign their breath,
Without exception, all must stoop to Death:
Nay, greatest men are often suddainly,
Conveyed hence i'th' twinkling of an eye:
By poyson, Dagger, or the blows of War,
To which great Monarchs most obnoxious are
They're snatch't out of the world, and in their fall,
Bring on their Subjects sometimes national,
And fiery judgements, whilst Competitors,
For their Succession muster all the force
They can to make their several titles good,
And all the People are involv'd in blood,
By their ambition, that the world may see,
There is no Monarch absolutely free,
But him, who is above all Monarchy,
By whom all Earthly Monarchs live, and dy.
Appear in Robes most gloriously gay:
Who with their present state so proudly swell,
They laugh at the Romance of Heaven, and Hell:
To morrow you may see them poorly ly,
Like other parcels of Mortality,
Incorporat with Dust, for all must dy
When God commands, all must resign their breath,
Without exception, all must stoop to Death:
Nay, greatest men are often suddainly,
Conveyed hence i'th' twinkling of an eye:
By poyson, Dagger, or the blows of War,
To which great Monarchs most obnoxious are
They're snatch't out of the world, and in their fall,
Bring on their Subjects sometimes national,
And fiery judgements, whilst Competitors,
For their Succession muster all the force
They can to make their several titles good,
And all the People are involv'd in blood,
By their ambition, that the world may see,
There is no Monarch absolutely free,
But him, who is above all Monarchy,
By whom all Earthly Monarchs live, and dy.
Why since it is so then, since Majesty
Only belongs to him, who sits on high,
Which on the Rock of Justice, firm, and sure
Establish'd, to all ages doth endure:
Should any breathing thing compos'd of dust,
Dare but to think, that God can be unjust!
Only belongs to him, who sits on high,
Which on the Rock of Justice, firm, and sure
Establish'd, to all ages doth endure:
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Dare but to think, that God can be unjust!
Besides, my friend, I'de have thee understand
That as this Monarch by his mighty hand
All that we see has fram'd, and 'stablished,
And governs by the same, what he has made,
Above all powers, so his all-piercing eye
Views all our thoughts, and actions carefully;
For, trust me, as he is Omnipotent,
So, without doubt, he is Omniscient.
That as this Monarch by his mighty hand
All that we see has fram'd, and 'stablished,
And governs by the same, what he has made,
Above all powers, so his all-piercing eye
Views all our thoughts, and actions carefully;
For, trust me, as he is Omnipotent,
So, without doubt, he is Omniscient.
He all things sees, his all-discerning eye
Looks through the bowels of obscurity:
Not earths dark Caverns, where perpetual night
Doth cover all, can cover from his sight
The works of darkness, or i'th' least conceal
Those villanies, which he means to reveal,
No, let a sinner run from Pole to Pole,
From East, to West; not any lurking hole
Will the poor Creature find, where he may lye
Safely conceal'd from that all-searching eye.
How then should any foolish man suppose
That he, who all things sees, and all things knows,
Can be unjust? or that he should direct
Wilfully, or by error, and mistake,
That to be done, in any mortals case,
Which is unjust.—
Looks through the bowels of obscurity:
Not earths dark Caverns, where perpetual night
Doth cover all, can cover from his sight
The works of darkness, or i'th' least conceal
Those villanies, which he means to reveal,
No, let a sinner run from Pole to Pole,
From East, to West; not any lurking hole
Will the poor Creature find, where he may lye
Safely conceal'd from that all-searching eye.
How then should any foolish man suppose
That he, who all things sees, and all things knows,
Can be unjust? or that he should direct
Wilfully, or by error, and mistake,
That to be done, in any mortals case,
Which is unjust.—
No sure, for as he each mans sins doth know;
Though wrapp'd up in the clossest thoughts: even so,
He knows his strength, he knows what he can bear,
And thence, my friend, no living man should fear
That what sad woes his Maker has decreed
He should endure, will e're his strength exceed.
Though wrapp'd up in the clossest thoughts: even so,
He knows his strength, he knows what he can bear,
And thence, my friend, no living man should fear
That what sad woes his Maker has decreed
He should endure, will e're his strength exceed.
Since then our God is just, and equitable
In all his wayes; it is not tolerable
To hear a man complain, as thou hast done
Of him, that can do injury to none.
Nay further, though 'twere lawful to complain,
Yet all our exclamations are in vain:
For he, whose power is full, and absolute
Over all mankind, may without dispute,
Do what he lists: for don't we daily see
How even the greatest Monarchs are not free
From their afflictions: how the mighty men
VVho think their grandeur can his wrath sustain,
Are broke to pieces in their hight, and laid
As low as these, who were of them afraid.
Without all help, by his own strength alone
He pulls the greatest of 'em from his Throne,
And, with the same breath, ere the wretch be dead,
Sets up another Pageant in his stead.
In all his wayes; it is not tolerable
To hear a man complain, as thou hast done
Of him, that can do injury to none.
Nay further, though 'twere lawful to complain,
Yet all our exclamations are in vain:
For he, whose power is full, and absolute
Over all mankind, may without dispute,
Do what he lists: for don't we daily see
How even the greatest Monarchs are not free
From their afflictions: how the mighty men
VVho think their grandeur can his wrath sustain,
Are broke to pieces in their hight, and laid
As low as these, who were of them afraid.
Without all help, by his own strength alone
He pulls the greatest of 'em from his Throne,
And, with the same breath, ere the wretch be dead,
Sets up another Pageant in his stead.
For all their actings he doth carefully
Observe, and laughs at all their policy.
Their Cabin-Councils are to him reveal'd
(Although by them industriously conceal'd)
Yes, he knows all, and though he doth permit
These for a while to do, what they think fit;
Yet, when he thinks it time to punish them,
He takes them down, with much disgrace and shame:
All their designs he doth annihilate,
And cancells their memorials of State:
He sweeps them off the world, like dust, and makes
Their Subjects feel great judgements, for their sakes.
Observe, and laughs at all their policy.
Their Cabin-Councils are to him reveal'd
(Although by them industriously conceal'd)
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These for a while to do, what they think fit;
Yet, when he thinks it time to punish them,
He takes them down, with much disgrace and shame:
All their designs he doth annihilate,
And cancells their memorials of State:
He sweeps them off the world, like dust, and makes
Their Subjects feel great judgements, for their sakes.
Nay, he doth strike them openly, that all
May learn, and take example by their fall;
What 'tis for men t'abuse that power, which he
Entrusts them with, and so may plainly see
That all upon that mighty God depend,
Whose absolute dominion knows no end.
May learn, and take example by their fall;
What 'tis for men t'abuse that power, which he
Entrusts them with, and so may plainly see
That all upon that mighty God depend,
Whose absolute dominion knows no end.
Because his just commands they did despise,
And did forget they were his Deputies:
Nor did remember of his kindnesses
Show'n to them, in the days of their distress:
Nor how he had appear'd in their defence,
And mercifully by his providence
Had sav'd them from the plots and treacheries
Oftner then once, of their great enemies;
Nor thank'd him for his kindnesses renew'd,
But stead of that, with great ingratitude,
Proudly rejected his authority,
And mean't to rule by their own Majesty.
And did forget they were his Deputies:
Nor did remember of his kindnesses
Show'n to them, in the days of their distress:
Nor how he had appear'd in their defence,
And mercifully by his providence
Had sav'd them from the plots and treacheries
Oftner then once, of their great enemies;
Nor thank'd him for his kindnesses renew'd,
But stead of that, with great ingratitude,
Proudly rejected his authority,
And mean't to rule by their own Majesty.
For, stead of ruling faithfully and well,
They to oppressing of their Subjects fell:
Whose cryes did mount to Heav'ns, when they complain'd,
And audience quickly from that King obtain'd,
Who rules all Kings below, and doth redress
All the afflictions, and just grievances,
Of those that are oppress'd; hence, by and by,
He makes those Kings as low, as they were high:
In view of all he doth those men debase,
And sets up others quickly in their place.
They to oppressing of their Subjects fell:
Whose cryes did mount to Heav'ns, when they complain'd,
And audience quickly from that King obtain'd,
Who rules all Kings below, and doth redress
All the afflictions, and just grievances,
Of those that are oppress'd; hence, by and by,
He makes those Kings as low, as they were high:
In view of all he doth those men debase,
And sets up others quickly in their place.
For what he doth intend, who can withstand?
Who can resist his high and mighty hand?
Who can obstruct his progress? tell me who
Can hinder what he has a mind to do?
Whether on single men his wrath doth fall,
Or that he means a Judgement National:
For if to any he gives quietness,
What fury can disturb that peoples peace?
Or if he means to punish them with war,
Who can resist him? who are they, that dare
Oppose their breasts to th'torrent of his rage,
Or, with the Armies of his wrath engage?
Who can resist his high and mighty hand?
Who can obstruct his progress? tell me who
Can hinder what he has a mind to do?
Whether on single men his wrath doth fall,
Or that he means a Judgement National:
For if to any he gives quietness,
What fury can disturb that peoples peace?
Or if he means to punish them with war,
Who can resist him? who are they, that dare
Oppose their breasts to th'torrent of his rage,
Or, with the Armies of his wrath engage?
When he intends to pull a Tyrant down,
And, in his anger reassume that Crown,
Which he did lend him, lest his people may,
By his example, learn to disobey
Their Supream Monarch, and be cunningly
Enamoured with his Apostacy;
What counsel, what device, what power below,
What leagues, what armies can prevent the blow?
And, in his anger reassume that Crown,
Which he did lend him, lest his people may,
By his example, learn to disobey
Their Supream Monarch, and be cunningly
Enamoured with his Apostacy;
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What leagues, what armies can prevent the blow?
And now, my friend, by all that I have said,
I have no other aim, but to perswade
Both thee, and these who hear me, to forbear
Such language, as I am asham'd to hear
On this occasion; and in stead of crys,
Complaints, rash questions, and apologys,
To use another method, and expresse
Thy self in terms more moderat, then these
Which I have heard: For thus I think indeed,
At such a time as this, thou shouldst proceed
In thy expressions, and no otherwise,
If thou'lt be pleas'd to follow my advice.
I have no other aim, but to perswade
Both thee, and these who hear me, to forbear
Such language, as I am asham'd to hear
On this occasion; and in stead of crys,
Complaints, rash questions, and apologys,
To use another method, and expresse
Thy self in terms more moderat, then these
Which I have heard: For thus I think indeed,
At such a time as this, thou shouldst proceed
In thy expressions, and no otherwise,
If thou'lt be pleas'd to follow my advice.
Lord, I have sinn'd, and given provocation,
For which I have sustain'd thy indignation:
Pardon me, Lord, and teach me to abhore
My former ways, that I may sin no more.
For which I have sustain'd thy indignation:
Pardon me, Lord, and teach me to abhore
My former ways, that I may sin no more.
If all this while, Lord, I have not perceiv'd
My errors, but have foolishly believ'd
That I was free of sin, Lord, teach thou me,
And now, at length, be pleas'd to let me see,
In what, good Lord, I have offended thee,
And I'll do so no more.—
My errors, but have foolishly believ'd
That I was free of sin, Lord, teach thou me,
And now, at length, be pleas'd to let me see,
In what, good Lord, I have offended thee,
And I'll do so no more.—
Now, choose thee then, my friend, since things are so,
Whether thou'lt follow my advice, or no,
For pray consider seriously, my friend,
Is't fit that God according to thy mind
Should now dispose of thee: or rather do
What he thinks proper? which of these thinks't thou
Doth most agree with him, who certainly
Knows better what is fit, then thou, or I,
For any man t'endure: he does indeed,
And will in his own methods still proceed,
Whether thou wilt, or no: go to then, speak,
See what defence thou for thy self canst make:
If thou'lt not follow my advice, speak on,
And I shall hold my tongue while thou hast done:
Speak out thy mind, but pray remember now,
It is with God, not me, thou hast to doe:
For, if thou in the least canst make appear
That I have err'd, henceforth I shall forbear
To speak upon the subject, but give o're
All my discoursing here, and speak no more.
Whether thou'lt follow my advice, or no,
For pray consider seriously, my friend,
Is't fit that God according to thy mind
Should now dispose of thee: or rather do
What he thinks proper? which of these thinks't thou
Doth most agree with him, who certainly
Knows better what is fit, then thou, or I,
For any man t'endure: he does indeed,
And will in his own methods still proceed,
Whether thou wilt, or no: go to then, speak,
See what defence thou for thy self canst make:
If thou'lt not follow my advice, speak on,
And I shall hold my tongue while thou hast done:
Speak out thy mind, but pray remember now,
It is with God, not me, thou hast to doe:
For, if thou in the least canst make appear
That I have err'd, henceforth I shall forbear
To speak upon the subject, but give o're
All my discoursing here, and speak no more.
But only this, my friend, I'll boldly say,
That men of understanding, who to day
Have heard me speak, will fully testify,
That what I've said, is naked verity.
That men of understanding, who to day
Have heard me speak, will fully testify,
That what I've said, is naked verity.
And that what thou hast spoke, since thou began
T'open thy case, is much below a man
Of understanding, and doth savour so,
Of one that his Creator doth not know,
That I'm afraid, they'll think what thou hast said
In thy defence, rather appears to add
To thy offence, and so will find the Bill
Against thee, say, or argue what thou will.
T'open thy case, is much below a man
Of understanding, and doth savour so,
Of one that his Creator doth not know,
That I'm afraid, they'll think what thou hast said
In thy defence, rather appears to add
305
Against thee, say, or argue what thou will.
But after all, my friends, I think it yet
Proper to speak on this mans present state,
Because I think he's not yet humbled so
As I would have him:—
I'de therefore wish his tryal might endure
Yet for some longer time, until his cure
Were perfect, and I might perceive, my friend
Converted from his Errors in the end.
Proper to speak on this mans present state,
Because I think he's not yet humbled so
As I would have him:—
I'de therefore wish his tryal might endure
Yet for some longer time, until his cure
Were perfect, and I might perceive, my friend
Converted from his Errors in the end.
For by what yet I in his carriage see,
Without dissembling, truth, I must be free
To tell you all that I perceive no less
Then that his sins do, with his pains increase;
So that if I my speaking should give o're,
And to his passion make an open door,
I fear he will miscarry as before
'Has done in his Discourse, I'le therefore speak,
And to himself my speech I will direct.
Without dissembling, truth, I must be free
To tell you all that I perceive no less
Then that his sins do, with his pains increase;
So that if I my speaking should give o're,
And to his passion make an open door,
I fear he will miscarry as before
'Has done in his Discourse, I'le therefore speak,
And to himself my speech I will direct.
Cap. XXXV.
Upon the Question in hand intent
Thus then he prosecutes his Argument.
Dost think, says he, my friend, thou'rt in the right,
Or rather dost not sin against thy light,
When in thy raving thou art pleas'd to express
Thy thoughts so much of thy own Righteousness,
As if thou'd seem to argue all along,
That God both just, and good had done thee wrong?
Thus then he prosecutes his Argument.
Dost think, says he, my friend, thou'rt in the right,
Or rather dost not sin against thy light,
When in thy raving thou art pleas'd to express
Thy thoughts so much of thy own Righteousness,
As if thou'd seem to argue all along,
That God both just, and good had done thee wrong?
For thou hast said 'tis very strange to see
That God has no regard to such as thee,
Who hast observ'd his will, and piously
Demean'd thy self even from thy Infancy:
And therefore think'st Piety is a thing
Of no advantage, not worth studying:
But to be guilty, or be innocent,
Are in themselves but things indifferent.
That God has no regard to such as thee,
Who hast observ'd his will, and piously
Demean'd thy self even from thy Infancy:
And therefore think'st Piety is a thing
Of no advantage, not worth studying:
But to be guilty, or be innocent,
Are in themselves but things indifferent.
Well I shall answer quickly all these questions,
And easily refute those mean suggestions
Of a disordered spirit, and assert,
'Gainst thee, and all those Fools, who take thy part,
That thus for one (though just, and innocent,
Upon whom God has sent a punishment)
To argue that it is a vanity,
For any man to study Piety,
As thou hast done, since God alike regards
The just, and unjust, and so ill rewards
His faithful Servants, as thy case doth show,
That therefore to be guilty yea, or no
Is all one thing, since Judgements thus are sent
Both on the guilty, and the innocent
Is no less error, than if one should say
(As many do) come let us pass away
Our time in sin, and not so foolishly
Study the useless art of Piety,
As this good man has done, and after all,
Like him, in saddest of afflictions fall.
And easily refute those mean suggestions
Of a disordered spirit, and assert,
'Gainst thee, and all those Fools, who take thy part,
That thus for one (though just, and innocent,
Upon whom God has sent a punishment)
To argue that it is a vanity,
For any man to study Piety,
As thou hast done, since God alike regards
The just, and unjust, and so ill rewards
His faithful Servants, as thy case doth show,
That therefore to be guilty yea, or no
306
Both on the guilty, and the innocent
Is no less error, than if one should say
(As many do) come let us pass away
Our time in sin, and not so foolishly
Study the useless art of Piety,
As this good man has done, and after all,
Like him, in saddest of afflictions fall.
Are these thy thoughts then? has afflictions force
Driven thy Spirit to such weak Discourse?
Have sorrows so distracted thee, my friend,
That in such terms thou shouldst express thy mind?
Why if thou be with grief so overcome,
'Twere good, in my opinion, thou wert dumb,
That whatso'er thou thinkest, might at least
Be keep't within the kennel of thy breast,
And not break out in such rude eloquence,
As to all pious ears doth give offence.
For, if thou wouldst but for a moment check
The fury of thy passion, and direct
Thy eyes to Heaven, then wouldst thou plainly see
The difference betwixt thy God, and thee:
Then wouldst thou see how high and excellent,
(Besides what all on earth do represent,)
That Mighty God, whom we both love and fear,
Above all things created doth appear.
Driven thy Spirit to such weak Discourse?
Have sorrows so distracted thee, my friend,
That in such terms thou shouldst express thy mind?
Why if thou be with grief so overcome,
'Twere good, in my opinion, thou wert dumb,
That whatso'er thou thinkest, might at least
Be keep't within the kennel of thy breast,
And not break out in such rude eloquence,
As to all pious ears doth give offence.
For, if thou wouldst but for a moment check
The fury of thy passion, and direct
Thy eyes to Heaven, then wouldst thou plainly see
The difference betwixt thy God, and thee:
Then wouldst thou see how high and excellent,
(Besides what all on earth do represent,)
That Mighty God, whom we both love and fear,
Above all things created doth appear.
For but observe the clouds, see how they fly
Hither, and thither through the spacious sky,
And often do themselves conglomerate
In a thick body, which to dissipate
The Sun attempts in vain.—
For with a dark line of Circumvallation,
They so surround us, that with Consternation
We're oftentimes for many days together,
Lock'd up in Prison of bad soultry weather:
Whilst all the while the Sun his Chamber keeps,
But now, and then, that through the chinks he peeps,
For at Noon-tide he dares no more appear,
Than one at Change-time, who a Writ doth fear:
Yet after all themselves they rarifie
Into a pleasant, calm serenitie.
Who is't, do'st think, that makes these Vapours march,
In so good order through the spacious arch?
That makes these clouds condense, and then dilate,
Sure this no humane art can operate:
What need I tell thee, 'tis our God alone,
Who on these clouds doth sometimes place his Throne,
That Monarch, who eternally doth live,
To question whose Supream Prerogative,
Is a great madness, without all debate,
In any thing, that e're he did create.
Since then he is so high, and we so low,
As hardly we by Contemplation know
What these things are, which o're our heads do fly,
And make such pretty figures in the sky,
Since all the Wit, that God has to us given
Can hardly scann that Portcullice of Heaven:
Since we know no more, what the rambling means
I'th' air of all those glorious Machines,
And can the nature of these clouds express,
No better, than by art we faintly guess:
What must we think of him, pray what must he,
Who form'd these rowling clouds; what must he be?
What must he be, when even we do admire
The least part of his Glory? I desire
To know of thee, my friend, if ever thou
Didst so much spare time to thy self allow
As to contemplate even such things, as these,
For if thou hadst, thou never wouldst express
Thy self so foolishlie, as thou hast done
Of him, to whom both Clouds, Stars, Moon, and Sun
Are but mean Servants, and his Errands run.
Hither, and thither through the spacious sky,
And often do themselves conglomerate
In a thick body, which to dissipate
The Sun attempts in vain.—
For with a dark line of Circumvallation,
They so surround us, that with Consternation
We're oftentimes for many days together,
Lock'd up in Prison of bad soultry weather:
Whilst all the while the Sun his Chamber keeps,
But now, and then, that through the chinks he peeps,
For at Noon-tide he dares no more appear,
Than one at Change-time, who a Writ doth fear:
Yet after all themselves they rarifie
Into a pleasant, calm serenitie.
Who is't, do'st think, that makes these Vapours march,
In so good order through the spacious arch?
That makes these clouds condense, and then dilate,
Sure this no humane art can operate:
What need I tell thee, 'tis our God alone,
Who on these clouds doth sometimes place his Throne,
That Monarch, who eternally doth live,
To question whose Supream Prerogative,
Is a great madness, without all debate,
In any thing, that e're he did create.
Since then he is so high, and we so low,
As hardly we by Contemplation know
What these things are, which o're our heads do fly,
307
Since all the Wit, that God has to us given
Can hardly scann that Portcullice of Heaven:
Since we know no more, what the rambling means
I'th' air of all those glorious Machines,
And can the nature of these clouds express,
No better, than by art we faintly guess:
What must we think of him, pray what must he,
Who form'd these rowling clouds; what must he be?
What must he be, when even we do admire
The least part of his Glory? I desire
To know of thee, my friend, if ever thou
Didst so much spare time to thy self allow
As to contemplate even such things, as these,
For if thou hadst, thou never wouldst express
Thy self so foolishlie, as thou hast done
Of him, to whom both Clouds, Stars, Moon, and Sun
Are but mean Servants, and his Errands run.
Considering this, why shouldst so sillily
Value thy self on thy integrity?
Why brag'st thou so much of thy uprightness,
And keep'st such coyl about thy righteousness?
As if all thou couldst do, with all thy art,
(Though to him thou wouldst offer up thy heart)
Could add to that bright Glory in the least,
Of which already hee's so much possest.
Then if thou sin'st, thy self thou dost injure,
Not him, who is so glorious and pure,
As all the clouds of thine iniquity
Cannot offuscate his bright Majesty.
Value thy self on thy integrity?
Why brag'st thou so much of thy uprightness,
And keep'st such coyl about thy righteousness?
As if all thou couldst do, with all thy art,
(Though to him thou wouldst offer up thy heart)
Could add to that bright Glory in the least,
Of which already hee's so much possest.
Then if thou sin'st, thy self thou dost injure,
Not him, who is so glorious and pure,
As all the clouds of thine iniquity
Cannot offuscate his bright Majesty.
If righteous, what dost thou on him bestow?
What doth he to thee for thy virtue owe?
Is't not thy duty? pray now let me hear
How wouldst thou from a hired Servant bear
Such saucy Language, as if hee'd profess
He honour'd thee, and for his services
Expected of thee mutual kindnesses,
Because he had oblig'd thee? sure anone
Thou'd tell him all that he had said, or done
Was but his duty. Pray consider then
What are the actions of the best of men!
What are their virtues? what their services?
What all their vows? what their performances?
What all their prayers? what their pious tears?
What their goodworks! why truly it appears
(Though they should oft repeat them o're, and o're)
To be their duty only, and no more;
Like those, who for their services are paid,
For to his glory these can nothing add.
Or if thy sins should multiplied be,
What does he value either them, or thee?
What doth he to thee for thy virtue owe?
Is't not thy duty? pray now let me hear
How wouldst thou from a hired Servant bear
Such saucy Language, as if hee'd profess
He honour'd thee, and for his services
Expected of thee mutual kindnesses,
Because he had oblig'd thee? sure anone
Thou'd tell him all that he had said, or done
Was but his duty. Pray consider then
What are the actions of the best of men!
What are their virtues? what their services?
What all their vows? what their performances?
What all their prayers? what their pious tears?
What their goodworks! why truly it appears
(Though they should oft repeat them o're, and o're)
To be their duty only, and no more;
Like those, who for their services are paid,
For to his glory these can nothing add.
Or if thy sins should multiplied be,
What does he value either them, or thee?
'Tis true, by sin thou may'st perhaps devise
To such, as thou art, hurt, and prejudice;
And by well-doing too, thou may'st perchance
Thy Neighbours interest, or thy own advance.
But what's all this to God? thou can'st not stretch
Thy hand out upon him; nor canst thou reach
Him by thy actings, whether bad, or good,
For all thy ways are fully understood
By him: and, as thy sins he doth deride,
So, trust me friend, for all thy zealous pride,
Without thy concurse he'll be glorifi'd.
To such, as thou art, hurt, and prejudice;
And by well-doing too, thou may'st perchance
308
But what's all this to God? thou can'st not stretch
Thy hand out upon him; nor canst thou reach
Him by thy actings, whether bad, or good,
For all thy ways are fully understood
By him: and, as thy sins he doth deride,
So, trust me friend, for all thy zealous pride,
Without thy concurse he'll be glorifi'd.
I must confess 'tis usual, with men,
When under sad Oppressions, to complain:
'Tis usual to cry out, 'tis customary
For men at such occasions to miscarry,
(As thou of late hast done) in their expressions,
Because o'th' multitude of their Oppressions.
I know indeed, by Nature men are prone,
With bitter exclamations to bemoan
The sad Disasters, which they undergo
By reason of Oppression: I know
Oppression truely in its full carreer
Is hard for any mortal Man to bear,
Hence some think they may be allow'd to cry,
When under such a bitter Agony.
'Tis true indeed this is the usual way
Of many godly persons in the day
Of their affliction; this is that indeed
Which most of men do for their Errors plead.
When under sad Oppressions, to complain:
'Tis usual to cry out, 'tis customary
For men at such occasions to miscarry,
(As thou of late hast done) in their expressions,
Because o'th' multitude of their Oppressions.
I know indeed, by Nature men are prone,
With bitter exclamations to bemoan
The sad Disasters, which they undergo
By reason of Oppression: I know
Oppression truely in its full carreer
Is hard for any mortal Man to bear,
Hence some think they may be allow'd to cry,
When under such a bitter Agony.
'Tis true indeed this is the usual way
Of many godly persons in the day
Of their affliction; this is that indeed
Which most of men do for their Errors plead.
But this is not the method men should use
Under Oppression: hence I don't excuse
Those usual complaints, and exclamations,
In which men vent themselves, at such occasions.
For O, if they considered things aright,
They would not thus with their afflictions fight,
Nor vex at their oppressions, like Fools,
Or cry aloud, and weep, like Boys at Schools.
No, no, they should to God themselves address,
To him alone they should, in their distress,
Apply themselves, with zeal, and fervency,
For he can only send them remedy
In time of Troubles: he alone can give
True comfort to them, he can make them live,
When they're about to die: when help from men
Has fail'd, and for supply they look in vain
From th'arm of Flesh, he unexpectedly
Doth bring them out of all their Misery:
He makes them change their notes, and gladly sing
Amidst their greatest pain and suffering.
Under Oppression: hence I don't excuse
Those usual complaints, and exclamations,
In which men vent themselves, at such occasions.
For O, if they considered things aright,
They would not thus with their afflictions fight,
Nor vex at their oppressions, like Fools,
Or cry aloud, and weep, like Boys at Schools.
No, no, they should to God themselves address,
To him alone they should, in their distress,
Apply themselves, with zeal, and fervency,
For he can only send them remedy
In time of Troubles: he alone can give
True comfort to them, he can make them live,
When they're about to die: when help from men
Has fail'd, and for supply they look in vain
From th'arm of Flesh, he unexpectedly
Doth bring them out of all their Misery:
He makes them change their notes, and gladly sing
Amidst their greatest pain and suffering.
Nay we should even in gratitude apply
Our selves to God, in time of Misery;
Because he Reason on us has bestow'd,
And us with many Qualities endow'd,
Beyond all beasts o'th' Field, or birds o'th' Air,
None of which can i'th' least with Man compare:
And therefore we're oblig'd on all occasions
Of such sad Woes, to make our applications
To him alone, as we would wish to be,
In his good time from our afflictions free.
Our selves to God, in time of Misery;
Because he Reason on us has bestow'd,
And us with many Qualities endow'd,
Beyond all beasts o'th' Field, or birds o'th' Air,
None of which can i'th' least with Man compare:
And therefore we're oblig'd on all occasions
Of such sad Woes, to make our applications
309
In his good time from our afflictions free.
'Tis true, some men do in affliction cry
To God, and seem with fervour to apply
Themselves to him in prayer, but after all,
Th'Almighty doth not hear them, when they call:
Because they are not yet sufficiently
Humbled for their offences.
Besides, Faith of all prayer is the ground,
And without that, 'tis but an empty sound.
Such as do not by faith themselves address,
He will not hear: faith doth his ear possess,
Great Master of Requests, chief favourite
I'th' Court of Heaven, Protector of the right
Of all true Supplicants, this, this alone,
Makes all addresses to the Heavenly Throne.
To God, and seem with fervour to apply
Themselves to him in prayer, but after all,
Th'Almighty doth not hear them, when they call:
Because they are not yet sufficiently
Humbled for their offences.
Besides, Faith of all prayer is the ground,
And without that, 'tis but an empty sound.
Such as do not by faith themselves address,
He will not hear: faith doth his ear possess,
Great Master of Requests, chief favourite
I'th' Court of Heaven, Protector of the right
Of all true Supplicants, this, this alone,
Makes all addresses to the Heavenly Throne.
No formal, faithless prayer th'Almighty hears,
Nor doth he value mercenary tears.
No, though all these, whom we on Earth admire,
The glorious Chanters of the Heavenly Quire,
And all the Saints, and Martyrs with a shout,
Should usher in our prayers, and to boot
Good works, with all their meritorious sense
Should seem to make a Lane, by violence;
Yet without faith, all these attempts are vain,
For after all this courtly toile, and pain,
Such prayers will drop down in our mouths again.
Nor doth he value mercenary tears.
No, though all these, whom we on Earth admire,
The glorious Chanters of the Heavenly Quire,
And all the Saints, and Martyrs with a shout,
Should usher in our prayers, and to boot
Good works, with all their meritorious sense
Should seem to make a Lane, by violence;
Yet without faith, all these attempts are vain,
For after all this courtly toile, and pain,
Such prayers will drop down in our mouths again.
As then, my friend, I judge it is a crime
For men oppress't with grief, at any time,
(As thou dost) of their Maker to complain,
So I esteem it absolutely vain,
Because I do assert God is so high,
And we so low, as to his Majesty,
We Should our selves, in humble terms apply;
And not in proud, and rash expostulations
Bitter complaints, and tragical expressions
Of our distress'd conditions, as if none
Had suffered e're the like as we had done.
So I esteem it likewise labour lost,
Thus oft of thy integrity to boast,
As I have heard thee. Then, I yet do see,
Another fault, which I must taxe in thee,
And that is great despondency: indeed
In that thou dost most palpably exceed.
For I've observ'd in all thy frequent fits
Of passion, like one out of his wits,
Thou us'd in such expressions to rave,
“Why am I tortur'd thus, can I not have
“Accesse to God himself? can I not see
“That mighty Judge, who doth so punish me?
“To him I would with confidence addresse,
“To him I'de speak, to him lay out my case,
“And show how I am pure, and innocent,
“And so deserve not this great punishment.
“But O, where is he to be found? ah where
“Doth he reside? shall I search here, or there,
“North, South, East, West, why all is but in vain,
“For after all I never can obtain
“A sight of him: from whence I plainly see
“There's nothing left, but black despair for me.
“So that my soul of life is wearied,
“And would choose even strangling to be freed
“From its sad pains: O how I life abhorre,
“I hate it, and desire to live no more.
“O let me die then, for I know his wrath
“Will never cease, so long as I do breath.
“For 'tis in vain to think that ever I
“Can be on this side of mortality
“Restored to my late prosperity.
For men oppress't with grief, at any time,
(As thou dost) of their Maker to complain,
So I esteem it absolutely vain,
Because I do assert God is so high,
And we so low, as to his Majesty,
We Should our selves, in humble terms apply;
And not in proud, and rash expostulations
Bitter complaints, and tragical expressions
Of our distress'd conditions, as if none
Had suffered e're the like as we had done.
So I esteem it likewise labour lost,
Thus oft of thy integrity to boast,
As I have heard thee. Then, I yet do see,
Another fault, which I must taxe in thee,
And that is great despondency: indeed
In that thou dost most palpably exceed.
For I've observ'd in all thy frequent fits
Of passion, like one out of his wits,
Thou us'd in such expressions to rave,
“Why am I tortur'd thus, can I not have
“Accesse to God himself? can I not see
“That mighty Judge, who doth so punish me?
“To him I would with confidence addresse,
“To him I'de speak, to him lay out my case,
“And show how I am pure, and innocent,
“And so deserve not this great punishment.
310
“Doth he reside? shall I search here, or there,
“North, South, East, West, why all is but in vain,
“For after all I never can obtain
“A sight of him: from whence I plainly see
“There's nothing left, but black despair for me.
“So that my soul of life is wearied,
“And would choose even strangling to be freed
“From its sad pains: O how I life abhorre,
“I hate it, and desire to live no more.
“O let me die then, for I know his wrath
“Will never cease, so long as I do breath.
“For 'tis in vain to think that ever I
“Can be on this side of mortality
“Restored to my late prosperity.
Why truly, friend, 'tis no small provocation
For one to use such terms of desperation,
Under sad woes: 'tis true, men without hope
Will think upon a Dagger, or a Rope,
Not knowing God: but for those men who fear
This God, in saddest trials to despair,
Is a great sin, a fault intollerable,
A foul offence, a crime unpardonable.
For one to use such terms of desperation,
Under sad woes: 'tis true, men without hope
Will think upon a Dagger, or a Rope,
Not knowing God: but for those men who fear
This God, in saddest trials to despair,
Is a great sin, a fault intollerable,
A foul offence, a crime unpardonable.
What, to despair! to give all o're for lost,
When in the Ocean of afflictions toss't!
To let our spirits fail, and weakly faint,
Like Female souls, in such an exigent,
When we have most need to be confident!
To show some courage in prosperity,
And in the Battel of adversity,
When we have most use for it, to have none,
Is truly, what I cannot think upon,
Without disdain! to sink, when we should swim,
To lye flat on the ground, when we should climb
To th'mountain tops, so cowardly to shrink,
VVhen we should stand to't bravely: is I think
A quality which he, who valueth
Hath neither courage, prudence, grace, nor faith,
Thus to despair, alace how meanly base!
And unbecoming one of Abrams race,
Of Abraham, that supereminent
Undaunted, constant, and believing Saint;
VVho in his God such confidence did place,
As he could not despair in any case:
And for that reason was of all esteem'd
The father of the faithful.—
Shouldst thou despair then! one who art descended
O'th' house of faith, one who hath still depended
Upon the promise to thy Fathers made:
And as I see, dost yet thy self perswade
That thy Redeemer lives, whom no man hath
Seen ever yet, but with the eyes of faith:
What, one of so much faith thus to despair!
'Tis truly, friend, a thing not ordinar.
Yes, one of his integrity so fond,
Which should support his faith, thus to despond!
Like those, who conscious of some horrid crimes,
Spin out their days in melancholly Chimes!
—What to despair! let's hear no more for shame
Of this despair: I hate its very name.
—Despair! I know indeed some impious men,
Who thinking death will ease them of their pain,
Which here they suffer for their sins, and that
By it their crimes will be obliterat,
Like mad-men, at such time for death do baul,
Supposing the kind grave will cover all
Their lewd offences; but I hope, my friend,
Thou'rt none of those who think death puts an end
To all our pains, nay surely thou dost know,
And firmly dost believe things are not so.
For then the fiery trial, but begins,
And after death, we're punish'd for our sins,
More then in life: now we are but arraign'd
And may plead mercy; then we are constrain'd
T'endure those torments, which God has ordain'd
For unrepenting sinners, and must ly
Under his wrath to all eternity.
When in the Ocean of afflictions toss't!
To let our spirits fail, and weakly faint,
Like Female souls, in such an exigent,
When we have most need to be confident!
To show some courage in prosperity,
And in the Battel of adversity,
When we have most use for it, to have none,
Is truly, what I cannot think upon,
Without disdain! to sink, when we should swim,
To lye flat on the ground, when we should climb
To th'mountain tops, so cowardly to shrink,
VVhen we should stand to't bravely: is I think
A quality which he, who valueth
Hath neither courage, prudence, grace, nor faith,
Thus to despair, alace how meanly base!
And unbecoming one of Abrams race,
Of Abraham, that supereminent
Undaunted, constant, and believing Saint;
VVho in his God such confidence did place,
As he could not despair in any case:
And for that reason was of all esteem'd
The father of the faithful.—
Shouldst thou despair then! one who art descended
O'th' house of faith, one who hath still depended
Upon the promise to thy Fathers made:
And as I see, dost yet thy self perswade
That thy Redeemer lives, whom no man hath
Seen ever yet, but with the eyes of faith:
What, one of so much faith thus to despair!
'Tis truly, friend, a thing not ordinar.
311
Which should support his faith, thus to despond!
Like those, who conscious of some horrid crimes,
Spin out their days in melancholly Chimes!
—What to despair! let's hear no more for shame
Of this despair: I hate its very name.
—Despair! I know indeed some impious men,
Who thinking death will ease them of their pain,
Which here they suffer for their sins, and that
By it their crimes will be obliterat,
Like mad-men, at such time for death do baul,
Supposing the kind grave will cover all
Their lewd offences; but I hope, my friend,
Thou'rt none of those who think death puts an end
To all our pains, nay surely thou dost know,
And firmly dost believe things are not so.
For then the fiery trial, but begins,
And after death, we're punish'd for our sins,
More then in life: now we are but arraign'd
And may plead mercy; then we are constrain'd
T'endure those torments, which God has ordain'd
For unrepenting sinners, and must ly
Under his wrath to all eternity.
Rouz up thy self then, and despair no more,
But trust in God, for he will yet restore
Thee to thy former state, and let thee see
He doth retain more kindness yet for thee,
Then thou dost either merit, or expect:
Trust in him then, let faith thy heart direct
In this sad tryal, do no more despair,
For he's a loving God, and will take care
Of thee, and thy concerns, and after all
When he has try'd thee fully, he'll let fall
His wrath against thee; and in pure compassion,
Deliver thee out of this sad temptation?
He will restore thee to thy former state,
For all that thou hast seen, or suffered yet.
But trust in God, for he will yet restore
Thee to thy former state, and let thee see
He doth retain more kindness yet for thee,
Then thou dost either merit, or expect:
Trust in him then, let faith thy heart direct
In this sad tryal, do no more despair,
For he's a loving God, and will take care
Of thee, and thy concerns, and after all
When he has try'd thee fully, he'll let fall
His wrath against thee; and in pure compassion,
Deliver thee out of this sad temptation?
He will restore thee to thy former state,
For all that thou hast seen, or suffered yet.
And now, my friends, I must again to you
Address my self once more: you see then how
This good man is not so much punished
For former sins, as he is visited,
In wrath, for his despondency, and passion;
Though yet our God has us'd such moderation
In trying of him, as he has no cause
T'exclaim against the rigor of his Laws,
For yet he lives, and may yet live to see
Himself from all his present sorrows free.
Judge then if he has reason, constantly
Thus to complain, and foolishly to cry,
When he has suffered no extremity.
Address my self once more: you see then how
This good man is not so much punished
For former sins, as he is visited,
In wrath, for his despondency, and passion;
Though yet our God has us'd such moderation
In trying of him, as he has no cause
T'exclaim against the rigor of his Laws,
For yet he lives, and may yet live to see
Himself from all his present sorrows free.
Judge then if he has reason, constantly
Thus to complain, and foolishly to cry,
When he has suffered no extremity.
I therefore do conclude that Job has spoke
Such language in his pains, as might provoke
The wrath of God, and make him yet to pour
Worse judgements on him, then he to this hour
Has ever felt, and it were equity,
That he, with whom he has so tenderly
Dealt all this while, for his despondency
Should yet be further punish'd, but I hope
He'll have compassion on him now, and stop
The current of his Wrath; which for my part,
I wish he may do quickly from my heart:
Lest, if his torments be continued,
He may in his extravagance proceed:
And so his Heavenly Father irritate,
As he for ever may exheridate
This ungrate wretch, and never owne him more
To be his Child, as he has done before;
This winnowing tryal, and may do again,
Could he from his unjust complaints abstain.
Such language in his pains, as might provoke
The wrath of God, and make him yet to pour
Worse judgements on him, then he to this hour
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That he, with whom he has so tenderly
Dealt all this while, for his despondency
Should yet be further punish'd, but I hope
He'll have compassion on him now, and stop
The current of his Wrath; which for my part,
I wish he may do quickly from my heart:
Lest, if his torments be continued,
He may in his extravagance proceed:
And so his Heavenly Father irritate,
As he for ever may exheridate
This ungrate wretch, and never owne him more
To be his Child, as he has done before;
This winnowing tryal, and may do again,
Could he from his unjust complaints abstain.
Cap. XXXVI.
Breathing a while, till he might recollect
His spirits, he begun again to speak,
As formerly, and with a judgment stayd
The zealous young man thus continued.
His spirits, he begun again to speak,
As formerly, and with a judgment stayd
The zealous young man thus continued.
Suffer me yet a little while, said he,
To speak, my friend, and I'll impart to thee
What further I have yet to plead, and say
On Gods behalf, suffer me now, I pray
To speak but yet a little, in defence
Of my great Master, that I may from thence
Inform thee of his Power, and Majesty,
And thy own dulnesse, and stupidity,
Who all this while hast boldly argued
'Gainst his procedure in thy case, and said
'Twas hard to send so great a punishment,
Upon a man so just, and innocent
As thou art: I shall therefore freely show,
How much thou to this mighty God dost owe,
Who hath been pleas'd, with so much patience,
To hear thee talk so on thy innocence,
And even attempt t'arraign his Providence;
Without inflicting yet some harder things,
Upon thee, for thy sinfull murmurings.
To speak, my friend, and I'll impart to thee
What further I have yet to plead, and say
On Gods behalf, suffer me now, I pray
To speak but yet a little, in defence
Of my great Master, that I may from thence
Inform thee of his Power, and Majesty,
And thy own dulnesse, and stupidity,
Who all this while hast boldly argued
'Gainst his procedure in thy case, and said
'Twas hard to send so great a punishment,
Upon a man so just, and innocent
As thou art: I shall therefore freely show,
How much thou to this mighty God dost owe,
Who hath been pleas'd, with so much patience,
To hear thee talk so on thy innocence,
And even attempt t'arraign his Providence;
Without inflicting yet some harder things,
Upon thee, for thy sinfull murmurings.
Allow me then to speak, for I intend
'Gainst all opponents stoutly to defend
The honour of my Maker; and maintain
Against all mortals, who of him complain,
That he's all justice, mercy, and compassion,
And uses in his wrath great moderation:
That he's all virtue, truth, and righteousness,
And more then I am able to express.
Allow me then to speak, allow me, pray,
And seriously advert to what I say
Upon the subject; for though my intent
Be to pursue my former argument,
And show the power of him, who sits on high,
Cloath'd with eternal Light, and Majesty:
Yet not from reasons topicks, but indeed,
From such as do all reason far exceed,
I mean to draw my mediums, and prove
That the first mover, by whom all things move,
Who no beginning had, and knows no end,
Is what our reason cannot comprehend.
I'll speak of him, as of that Deity,
Perceptible by th'spirit, not by th'eye.
Who's great beyond our reach, who's all in all,
Whose Character is supernatural.
'Gainst all opponents stoutly to defend
The honour of my Maker; and maintain
Against all mortals, who of him complain,
That he's all justice, mercy, and compassion,
And uses in his wrath great moderation:
That he's all virtue, truth, and righteousness,
And more then I am able to express.
Allow me then to speak, allow me, pray,
313
Upon the subject; for though my intent
Be to pursue my former argument,
And show the power of him, who sits on high,
Cloath'd with eternal Light, and Majesty:
Yet not from reasons topicks, but indeed,
From such as do all reason far exceed,
I mean to draw my mediums, and prove
That the first mover, by whom all things move,
Who no beginning had, and knows no end,
Is what our reason cannot comprehend.
I'll speak of him, as of that Deity,
Perceptible by th'spirit, not by th'eye.
Who's great beyond our reach, who's all in all,
Whose Character is supernatural.
Be pleas'd to hear me then, for seriously
I mean to speak, with great sincerity,
Upon the matter; I intend to speak
Nothing but truth, as God shall me direct.
In sober terms, I shall my self expresse,
In what concerns thy present wretchednesse,
For I do fully understand thy case.
I mean to speak, with great sincerity,
Upon the matter; I intend to speak
Nothing but truth, as God shall me direct.
In sober terms, I shall my self expresse,
In what concerns thy present wretchednesse,
For I do fully understand thy case.
First then, that I may speak in vindication,
Of my great Maker upon this occasion:
I'd have thee know that even the best of men
Do, but with great difficulty, obtain
Some random knowledge of the qualities
Of that great God, who dwells above the Skies.
The language of his ways we cannot read,
Whence all our grosse mistakes of him proceed:
Our ignorance of him makes us to erre
In our behaviour to him, whensoe're
He's pleas'd t'afflict us: and imagine that
He censures none, but those, whom he doth hate,
That he has no regard to innocence,
When such good men are punished, and thence
Reflecting on our own integrity,
We think he does us no small injury.
Advert then pray, and I will teach thee now,
By a most lively demonstration, how
Thou may'st hereafter know him perfectly,
And thence thy former errors, rectify.
Of my great Maker upon this occasion:
I'd have thee know that even the best of men
Do, but with great difficulty, obtain
Some random knowledge of the qualities
Of that great God, who dwells above the Skies.
The language of his ways we cannot read,
Whence all our grosse mistakes of him proceed:
Our ignorance of him makes us to erre
In our behaviour to him, whensoe're
He's pleas'd t'afflict us: and imagine that
He censures none, but those, whom he doth hate,
That he has no regard to innocence,
When such good men are punished, and thence
Reflecting on our own integrity,
We think he does us no small injury.
Advert then pray, and I will teach thee now,
By a most lively demonstration, how
Thou may'st hereafter know him perfectly,
And thence thy former errors, rectify.
Behold then, he is mighty, and exceeds
In power the reputation of his deeds:
He's high, and mighty, and doth far excell
All Kings, and Princes that on Earth do dwell:
In strength he's highly super-eminent,
His mighty arm doth shake the Firmament:
In wisdom, he so fully doth abound,
And is in every knowledge so profound,
That all our knowledge, all our art, and wit,
Is but meer folly, laid in scale, with it.
Yet as he's great, so he is good, and just,
And will do wrong to nothing made of dust.
Ready at all occasions he appears
To do men justice, and he gently hears
All their Petitions; he will not despise
The poor man in his suit: for in his eyes
Both rich, and poor are equal: every man
Who with uplifted hands, but faintly can
Say, Lord have mercy on me, he will hear,
And all may freely, without any fear,
To him approach; all may to him address
In person, and with ease lay out their case.
Access to him is easily obtain'd,
Without the introduction of a friend:
Without expence of waiting, and delay;
And being shifted still from day to day,
As men in Courts of mortal Kings are us'd,
And after all, either their suits refus'd,
Or laid aside; and when their means are gone,
Pitied by many, but supply'd by none,
T'endure the hateful name of hingers on.
No, all men may from him have audience,
What ever be their case, without expence
Of any thing but Prayer; and quickly find
Though he is great, yet he is just, and kind
To all that truly call upon his Name,
And, if we have not audience, we may blame
None but our selves: nay, though we should be mute,
If even our hearts but speak, he'll grant our sute.
In power the reputation of his deeds:
He's high, and mighty, and doth far excell
All Kings, and Princes that on Earth do dwell:
In strength he's highly super-eminent,
His mighty arm doth shake the Firmament:
In wisdom, he so fully doth abound,
And is in every knowledge so profound,
That all our knowledge, all our art, and wit,
Is but meer folly, laid in scale, with it.
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And will do wrong to nothing made of dust.
Ready at all occasions he appears
To do men justice, and he gently hears
All their Petitions; he will not despise
The poor man in his suit: for in his eyes
Both rich, and poor are equal: every man
Who with uplifted hands, but faintly can
Say, Lord have mercy on me, he will hear,
And all may freely, without any fear,
To him approach; all may to him address
In person, and with ease lay out their case.
Access to him is easily obtain'd,
Without the introduction of a friend:
Without expence of waiting, and delay;
And being shifted still from day to day,
As men in Courts of mortal Kings are us'd,
And after all, either their suits refus'd,
Or laid aside; and when their means are gone,
Pitied by many, but supply'd by none,
T'endure the hateful name of hingers on.
No, all men may from him have audience,
What ever be their case, without expence
Of any thing but Prayer; and quickly find
Though he is great, yet he is just, and kind
To all that truly call upon his Name,
And, if we have not audience, we may blame
None but our selves: nay, though we should be mute,
If even our hearts but speak, he'll grant our sute.
Now, as he's great, and just, so he is kind
To all good men: for when he calls to mind,
How some bad persons void of conscience,
Triumphing in their formal violence,
Taking th'advantage of the times, and glad
To have occasion to oppress, have laid
Themselves to do all mischiefs to those men,
Who, when injur'd only to God complain.
Hence, though these godless men have done much wrong
To many, and yet God has let them long
Live at their ease unpunish'd; after all
Arm'd with pure Justice, he'll upon them fall;
Break them to pieces, seize what they possess,
And spoil them of their unjust purchasses:
In their estates he'll make a sudden change,
And all those poor mens injuries revenge,
Upon the Persons, and the Families
Of those, who did commit these injuries.
To all good men: for when he calls to mind,
How some bad persons void of conscience,
Triumphing in their formal violence,
Taking th'advantage of the times, and glad
To have occasion to oppress, have laid
Themselves to do all mischiefs to those men,
Who, when injur'd only to God complain.
Hence, though these godless men have done much wrong
To many, and yet God has let them long
Live at their ease unpunish'd; after all
Arm'd with pure Justice, he'll upon them fall;
Break them to pieces, seize what they possess,
And spoil them of their unjust purchasses:
In their estates he'll make a sudden change,
And all those poor mens injuries revenge,
Upon the Persons, and the Families
Of those, who did commit these injuries.
And, though he suffer those bad men to live
Long time, in plenty, and to them doth give
What e're their hearts can wish, yet all the time
He spares their persons, he doth mind their crime
He lets the righteous suffer misery,
And sad distress, but has a watchful eye
On all that do them wrong: and in the end,
All those good men, that upon him depend,
Not only he'll restore, to all which these
Oppressours did most inhumanely seize.
But will bring them in favour, and esteem
With those that wear the Sacred Diademe.
Whence they shall be enabled to protect
All pious men from the oppressing Sect.
Long time, in plenty, and to them doth give
What e're their hearts can wish, yet all the time
He spares their persons, he doth mind their crime
He lets the righteous suffer misery,
And sad distress, but has a watchful eye
315
All those good men, that upon him depend,
Not only he'll restore, to all which these
Oppressours did most inhumanely seize.
But will bring them in favour, and esteem
With those that wear the Sacred Diademe.
Whence they shall be enabled to protect
All pious men from the oppressing Sect.
Nay; though some time th'Almighty God permits
Such ravenous men, in their oppressing fits,
To do even what they list against his Saints,
As if he seem'd to slight their sad complaints,
Whilst in closs Prison, fettered, manacled,
Fast ty'd with cords, on bread and water fed:
Sleeping on boards, and benches at the best,
They in their wearied bones can have no rest;
Whilst thieves, and drunkards, Rogues and murderers,
Are now their only fellow-prisoners;
And lodg'd in the same room with them, whilst none
Dare pity them, or but emit a groan
On their behalf, without a strong suspition,
That they are favourers of their superstition.
Whilst choak'd with breathing of the croud, and stink
Of those, who void, and those, who smoak, and drink:
Where all the day is spent, as it were night
In a perpetual flame of Candle-light:
Whilst their sad ears are pestered constantly
With noise of horrid oaths, and ribaldry,
So that they find no opportunity
For their devotion; whilst arraign'd, condemn'd,
And the hour of their execution nam'd.
So that, by all appearance, there is none
Can think, with reason, but these men are gone:
He breaks their fetters; he doth soon unty
Their cords, and sets them all at liberty,
Who were perhaps next day design'd to dy.
Such ravenous men, in their oppressing fits,
To do even what they list against his Saints,
As if he seem'd to slight their sad complaints,
Whilst in closs Prison, fettered, manacled,
Fast ty'd with cords, on bread and water fed:
Sleeping on boards, and benches at the best,
They in their wearied bones can have no rest;
Whilst thieves, and drunkards, Rogues and murderers,
Are now their only fellow-prisoners;
And lodg'd in the same room with them, whilst none
Dare pity them, or but emit a groan
On their behalf, without a strong suspition,
That they are favourers of their superstition.
Whilst choak'd with breathing of the croud, and stink
Of those, who void, and those, who smoak, and drink:
Where all the day is spent, as it were night
In a perpetual flame of Candle-light:
Whilst their sad ears are pestered constantly
With noise of horrid oaths, and ribaldry,
So that they find no opportunity
For their devotion; whilst arraign'd, condemn'd,
And the hour of their execution nam'd.
So that, by all appearance, there is none
Can think, with reason, but these men are gone:
He breaks their fetters; he doth soon unty
Their cords, and sets them all at liberty,
Who were perhaps next day design'd to dy.
For by all these afflictions his intent
Is only, in great love, to represent
To these good men, how grosly they have err'd,
As well as others have done, and preferr'd
Their own conceits to what was right and just,
And have not in his mercy put their trust.
Is only, in great love, to represent
To these good men, how grosly they have err'd,
As well as others have done, and preferr'd
Their own conceits to what was right and just,
And have not in his mercy put their trust.
Hence he perswades them quickly to apply
Their minds to true, and solid piety,
With greater zeal, then they did formerly.
By these afflictions he doth them convince
Of all their failings, their escapes, and sins;
And makes them for the future live so well,
As they no more sad persecution feel.
Their minds to true, and solid piety,
With greater zeal, then they did formerly.
By these afflictions he doth them convince
Of all their failings, their escapes, and sins;
And makes them for the future live so well,
As they no more sad persecution feel.
For if such men do with unfeigned heart
Return to God; all blessings he'll impart
To them, their dayes in pleasure they shall spend,
Their years in honour, joy, and wealth shall end.
Return to God; all blessings he'll impart
To them, their dayes in pleasure they shall spend,
Their years in honour, joy, and wealth shall end.
316
But if they don't, but follow foolishly
The sinful methods of hypocrisy,
As many do, who yet would be esteem'd
Great saints, and are such by the vulgar nam'd:
Whilst in their hearts they think on nothing less,
But entertain all sort of wickedness,
Which they imagine, may promove i'th' least,
The smallest part of their own interest.
Then shall they fall like such, then shall they dy,
Like all the followers of hypocrisy.
The sinful methods of hypocrisy,
As many do, who yet would be esteem'd
Great saints, and are such by the vulgar nam'd:
Whilst in their hearts they think on nothing less,
But entertain all sort of wickedness,
Which they imagine, may promove i'th' least,
The smallest part of their own interest.
Then shall they fall like such, then shall they dy,
Like all the followers of hypocrisy.
Hypocrisy! and here's a sin indeed,
Which in Gods sight doth many sins exceed.
A complex sin, made up of many parts,
A catalogue of all pernicious Arts:
A close concealer of all villany,
A great debaucher of integrity:
A guilded sin, compos'd of all that's bad,
A crying sin in pious masquerade:
A couz'ning sin, a sin so intricat,
As all, save God, it easily doth cheat.
A sin so painted, siz'd, and varnished,
With pious Oyles, and so well shaddowed,
As it can hardly be discovered
To be a sin, by any mortal eye.
A sin, that seems t'abhor impiety,
And yet doth hug it; such a sin indeed,
In my opinion doth all sins exceed.
And sure I know, God, who doth falshood hate,
Above all others doth abominate
This cunning sin; and thence we often read
How this close sin God has discovered
By his great art. For as we dayly see,
How many counterfeited Coines there be,
By worst of villains stamp'd, and fashioned,
Where Silver is so cunningly allay'd
With courser Mettals, as they will endure
The Touch-stone, and the File, and seem so pure,
As one would think they of true fineness were;
Yet put them in a crucible, and there
By heat of Fire, the cheat will soon appear.
Which in Gods sight doth many sins exceed.
A complex sin, made up of many parts,
A catalogue of all pernicious Arts:
A close concealer of all villany,
A great debaucher of integrity:
A guilded sin, compos'd of all that's bad,
A crying sin in pious masquerade:
A couz'ning sin, a sin so intricat,
As all, save God, it easily doth cheat.
A sin so painted, siz'd, and varnished,
With pious Oyles, and so well shaddowed,
As it can hardly be discovered
To be a sin, by any mortal eye.
A sin, that seems t'abhor impiety,
And yet doth hug it; such a sin indeed,
In my opinion doth all sins exceed.
And sure I know, God, who doth falshood hate,
Above all others doth abominate
This cunning sin; and thence we often read
How this close sin God has discovered
By his great art. For as we dayly see,
How many counterfeited Coines there be,
By worst of villains stamp'd, and fashioned,
Where Silver is so cunningly allay'd
With courser Mettals, as they will endure
The Touch-stone, and the File, and seem so pure,
As one would think they of true fineness were;
Yet put them in a crucible, and there
By heat of Fire, the cheat will soon appear.
So when the Hypocrite doth pleasantly
Enjoy himself in great tranquility,
With such a specious, but adulterat show
Of piety, he gulls the people so,
As in his Fig-leav'd Coat, and zealous paint,
He passes current for an upright Saint.
But let him once be brought, as others are
To th'fiery tryal, then he doth appear
To be the person that he is indeed,
Then all his falshood is discovered;
His timerous spirit soon doth liquify,
His soul begins to shrink: he cann't apply
Himself to God, but passes stupidly
His time away, without all meditation,
Or thoughts of Heaven, as upon such occasion
All good men do:
But hardned in his sins, and knowing well
How much his former actions merit Hell:
He thinks that now 'tis hardly worth his pain
T'apply to God for mercy, or complain
To him, whom he has so much irritate;
But as contented with his present state,
Takes of his Masque, and acts now openly,
What he before perform'd more cautiously.
Enjoy himself in great tranquility,
With such a specious, but adulterat show
Of piety, he gulls the people so,
As in his Fig-leav'd Coat, and zealous paint,
He passes current for an upright Saint.
But let him once be brought, as others are
To th'fiery tryal, then he doth appear
To be the person that he is indeed,
Then all his falshood is discovered;
His timerous spirit soon doth liquify,
His soul begins to shrink: he cann't apply
Himself to God, but passes stupidly
His time away, without all meditation,
317
All good men do:
But hardned in his sins, and knowing well
How much his former actions merit Hell:
He thinks that now 'tis hardly worth his pain
T'apply to God for mercy, or complain
To him, whom he has so much irritate;
But as contented with his present state,
Takes of his Masque, and acts now openly,
What he before perform'd more cautiously.
Then he lets loose the reins of inclinations,
And runs like mad man into all temptations;
Then as in youthful veins, his blood doth rage,
And he must find out pleasures to asswage
The horrid torment of his melancholly;
And so expends some years in sin, and folly.
For that so rude, disordered fermentation,
O'th' mass of Blood, doth quickly give occasion
To sharp Diseases, which do warmly fall
Upon his body; and e're he can call
To God, for mercy, without more delay
Do hurry him, and all his sins away.
And runs like mad man into all temptations;
Then as in youthful veins, his blood doth rage,
And he must find out pleasures to asswage
The horrid torment of his melancholly;
And so expends some years in sin, and folly.
For that so rude, disordered fermentation,
O'th' mass of Blood, doth quickly give occasion
To sharp Diseases, which do warmly fall
Upon his body; and e're he can call
To God, for mercy, without more delay
Do hurry him, and all his sins away.
Thus then, my friend, we see Afflictions are
Most necessary, and we must prepare
Our selves for Tryals, and severe Temptations,
(As thou dost now endure) at all occasions:
Because by these, our God is us'd to try
The difference betwixt true Piety,
And base sophisticate Hypocrisy.
For, as the best of Grain is pestered
With the foul mixture of some specious Weed,
Which growing up in the same Field with it,
Doth the good Grain so slily counterfeit;
As while cut down, thresh'd out, and winnowed,
The false Grain cannot be discovered.
So in the Summer of Prosperity
When true Religion, and Hypocrisy
Appear to grow up in one Field together,
'Tis hard for Mortals to distinguish either;
But in the Harvest of Adversity,
When cut down, thresh'd, and winnowed, by, and by
We can distinguish what is bad, what's good,
And Hypocrites are quickly understood
In time of Trouble: then indeed, as Wheat
Is from the Chaff, by winnowing separate:
So Hypocrites are all discovered,
And from just, pious men distinguished.
Most necessary, and we must prepare
Our selves for Tryals, and severe Temptations,
(As thou dost now endure) at all occasions:
Because by these, our God is us'd to try
The difference betwixt true Piety,
And base sophisticate Hypocrisy.
For, as the best of Grain is pestered
With the foul mixture of some specious Weed,
Which growing up in the same Field with it,
Doth the good Grain so slily counterfeit;
As while cut down, thresh'd out, and winnowed,
The false Grain cannot be discovered.
So in the Summer of Prosperity
When true Religion, and Hypocrisy
Appear to grow up in one Field together,
'Tis hard for Mortals to distinguish either;
But in the Harvest of Adversity,
When cut down, thresh'd, and winnowed, by, and by
We can distinguish what is bad, what's good,
And Hypocrites are quickly understood
In time of Trouble: then indeed, as Wheat
Is from the Chaff, by winnowing separate:
So Hypocrites are all discovered,
And from just, pious men distinguished.
But those, my friend, who are in heart sincere,
Though their ingrain'd Afflictions appear
To be o'th' deepest dy, and do endure,
For a long time; yet God at length will sure
Deliver them out of them all, and show
That neither to themselves, nor friends they owe
Such great deliverance, but to him alone,
Who's their Redeemer; and forsaketh none
In their Afflictions, who upon him call,
But hears them, and at length doth grant them all
Their hearts can wish; and doth instruct them too
What for the future such good men should do
T'evite such Troubles.
Though their ingrain'd Afflictions appear
To be o'th' deepest dy, and do endure,
For a long time; yet God at length will sure
Deliver them out of them all, and show
That neither to themselves, nor friends they owe
Such great deliverance, but to him alone,
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In their Afflictions, who upon him call,
But hears them, and at length doth grant them all
Their hearts can wish; and doth instruct them too
What for the future such good men should do
T'evite such Troubles.
Even so, my friend, if thou hadst put thy trust
In his great Name, and not ha'been unjust
In thy Complaints; he had reliev'd thee too,
Out of thy sad Afflictions, long ere now,
Before this time he had thee liberate
From these sad pains, and, without all debate,
Restor'd thee fully to thy former state.
In his great Name, and not ha'been unjust
In thy Complaints; he had reliev'd thee too,
Out of thy sad Afflictions, long ere now,
Before this time he had thee liberate
From these sad pains, and, without all debate,
Restor'd thee fully to thy former state.
But thou in thy Afflictions hast rav'd,
And hast so very foolishly behav'd,
Th'hast so provok'd him, as it would appear,
'Had left thee in a Labyrinth of fear,
And of thy restitution took no care.
And hast so very foolishly behav'd,
Th'hast so provok'd him, as it would appear,
'Had left thee in a Labyrinth of fear,
And of thy restitution took no care.
And now that I thy Case have opened,
And shown'n thee, why thou art so punished;
In the next place, I must give thee advice
Not to esteem thy self too just, and wise;
Nor think that God has done thee injury,
By plunging thee in so much misery,
When all th'hast suffered must be understood
T'have been intended meerly for thy good.
But, with great calmness, humbly meditate
On th'circumstances of thy present state:
Confess thy Errors, seriously implore
His pardon, and resolve to do no more,
As thou hast done: lest, in his burning wrath
He prosecute thee closely to thy death:
And then no offers of some thousand Prayers,
Largitions, Fastings, Pennances, and Tears
Can ransom thee, for thou must quickly die
Without Repentance, and for ever ly
In the dark Prison of Eternity.
And shown'n thee, why thou art so punished;
In the next place, I must give thee advice
Not to esteem thy self too just, and wise;
Nor think that God has done thee injury,
By plunging thee in so much misery,
When all th'hast suffered must be understood
T'have been intended meerly for thy good.
But, with great calmness, humbly meditate
On th'circumstances of thy present state:
Confess thy Errors, seriously implore
His pardon, and resolve to do no more,
As thou hast done: lest, in his burning wrath
He prosecute thee closely to thy death:
And then no offers of some thousand Prayers,
Largitions, Fastings, Pennances, and Tears
Can ransom thee, for thou must quickly die
Without Repentance, and for ever ly
In the dark Prison of Eternity.
Assure thy self, my friend, this is thy Case,
If thou repent not quickly, this alace
Will be thy final Sentence; this thy Doom,
Which thou must suffer in all time to come.
And of this Sentence no Reprival can
Be purchas'd by the Art, or Wit of Man:
Nor Gold, nor Friendship, nor all Artifices
Of Humane Labour: nor the close devices,
Of cunning Interceeders can delay
The Execution, but for half a day
Of this same Sentence: for be confident
With Gifts thou canst not bribe th'Omnipotent.
If thou repent not quickly, this alace
Will be thy final Sentence; this thy Doom,
Which thou must suffer in all time to come.
And of this Sentence no Reprival can
Be purchas'd by the Art, or Wit of Man:
Nor Gold, nor Friendship, nor all Artifices
Of Humane Labour: nor the close devices,
Of cunning Interceeders can delay
The Execution, but for half a day
Of this same Sentence: for be confident
With Gifts thou canst not bribe th'Omnipotent.
But O me thinks I hear thee say, if Death
Be all that I must suffer in his Wrath:
Why let him kill me, I am well content,
And shall esteem Death a kind Punishment:
For I am wearied of my Life, and know
I never shall have rest until I go
Down to the Grave. Why here, my friend, again
Is a gross error, and I must complain
Of thy so frequent wishing thou mightst die,
And in the Grave enjoy tranquillitie.
For though Death be a thing I must confess,
Which we ought all to meet with cheerfulness:
And every man, who doth th'Almighty fear
Should surely, at all times himself prepare
To welcome Death, yet thus before the time
Design'd by God, to wish it is, is a crime.
And is, as if one in a raging fit,
Should head-long throw himself into a Pit.
We must not wish for death, nor foolishly
When winds of troubles blow, desire to dye:
No, we must leave the rules of life and death
To God alone, and whilst he gives us breath,
We ought to live content with every state,
Which he is pleas'd for us to allocate,
From time to time, and when he thinks it fit
That we should die: why let us then submit
All our concerns, with patience to the blow,
And not down to the grave in anger go,
As if wee'd die whether he would or no.
Be all that I must suffer in his Wrath:
Why let him kill me, I am well content,
And shall esteem Death a kind Punishment:
For I am wearied of my Life, and know
319
Down to the Grave. Why here, my friend, again
Is a gross error, and I must complain
Of thy so frequent wishing thou mightst die,
And in the Grave enjoy tranquillitie.
For though Death be a thing I must confess,
Which we ought all to meet with cheerfulness:
And every man, who doth th'Almighty fear
Should surely, at all times himself prepare
To welcome Death, yet thus before the time
Design'd by God, to wish it is, is a crime.
And is, as if one in a raging fit,
Should head-long throw himself into a Pit.
We must not wish for death, nor foolishly
When winds of troubles blow, desire to dye:
No, we must leave the rules of life and death
To God alone, and whilst he gives us breath,
We ought to live content with every state,
Which he is pleas'd for us to allocate,
From time to time, and when he thinks it fit
That we should die: why let us then submit
All our concerns, with patience to the blow,
And not down to the grave in anger go,
As if wee'd die whether he would or no.
Take heed then pray, lest through impatience
Of thy afflictions thou give God offence.
For men should rather choose to undergo
Even the extremity of pain, and wo,
Then by complaining, in some sullen fit,
(As thou alace hast often done) commit
The least of sin. Nay if thou dost expect
That such complaints as these at length may break
The stream of thy afflictions, and so
Thou through the River of thy woes may'st go
With ease, and safety, and be thence reliev'd
From misery, trust me, thou art deceiv'd.
For, as young Children vex't with their disease
Of Itch, by scratching think to find some ease,
But after they have scratch'd their skin to pieces,
In stead of finding ease, their pain encreases.
So thou, my friend, by such complaints as these,
May'st well augment the force of thy disease,
But thou canst not allay it; trust me then,
'Tis a great folly for thee to complain.
Of thy afflictions thou give God offence.
For men should rather choose to undergo
Even the extremity of pain, and wo,
Then by complaining, in some sullen fit,
(As thou alace hast often done) commit
The least of sin. Nay if thou dost expect
That such complaints as these at length may break
The stream of thy afflictions, and so
Thou through the River of thy woes may'st go
With ease, and safety, and be thence reliev'd
From misery, trust me, thou art deceiv'd.
For, as young Children vex't with their disease
Of Itch, by scratching think to find some ease,
But after they have scratch'd their skin to pieces,
In stead of finding ease, their pain encreases.
So thou, my friend, by such complaints as these,
May'st well augment the force of thy disease,
But thou canst not allay it; trust me then,
'Tis a great folly for thee to complain.
For what's complaining else, but quarrelling
Of Gods procedure? What but murmuring
Against his justice? What but ignorance
Of what God is, and foolish arrogance,
Which thence proceeds? allow me then again,
Allow me, pray, a little to explain
The Power, Dominion, Wisdom, Majesty,
And Equity of him, who sits on high:
All which I do intend to evidence
Even from the common works of Providence;
That I may show thee all thy weaknesses,
For, hadst thou understood such things as these,
Which are so obvious, and at all occasions,
Afford us subject of high Contemplations:
Under thy Tryal thou hadst not behav'd
So sinfully, th'hadst not so madly rav'd
In thy expressions, nor, with so much spleen,
Quarrell'd thy Maker, over, and again.
Of Gods procedure? What but murmuring
Against his justice? What but ignorance
Of what God is, and foolish arrogance,
Which thence proceeds? allow me then again,
Allow me, pray, a little to explain
The Power, Dominion, Wisdom, Majesty,
And Equity of him, who sits on high:
All which I do intend to evidence
Even from the common works of Providence;
320
For, hadst thou understood such things as these,
Which are so obvious, and at all occasions,
Afford us subject of high Contemplations:
Under thy Tryal thou hadst not behav'd
So sinfully, th'hadst not so madly rav'd
In thy expressions, nor, with so much spleen,
Quarrell'd thy Maker, over, and again.
Know then, my friend, whatever be our state,
We must not quarrel God at any rate:
Or, if we do, we'll find our labour vain
And we had better suffer, then complain.
For as he is himself exalted far
Above all Powers, that e're created were:
So whom he pleases, he doth quickly raise,
And others he as quickly doth debase,
As he thinks fit: in all which he's so wise,
As he from none on Earth doth need advice.
We must not quarrel God at any rate:
Or, if we do, we'll find our labour vain
And we had better suffer, then complain.
For as he is himself exalted far
Above all Powers, that e're created were:
So whom he pleases, he doth quickly raise,
And others he as quickly doth debase,
As he thinks fit: in all which he's so wise,
As he from none on Earth doth need advice.
And as his Supream Power doth not allow
That any man should teach him what to do,
So we to what he does should all submit,
For he will do whatever he thinks fit.
That any man should teach him what to do,
So we to what he does should all submit,
For he will do whatever he thinks fit.
Remember then he is thy God, and know
How much the whole Creation doth show
His Power, and Glory: for by what we see
In all his works, we know that none but he
Doth rule the World, and by computation,
Of what we do admire in the Creation,
We may attempt to take his elevation.
How much the whole Creation doth show
His Power, and Glory: for by what we see
In all his works, we know that none but he
Doth rule the World, and by computation,
Of what we do admire in the Creation,
We may attempt to take his elevation.
For even from these common Phœnomena
Some little Maps we may with safety draw,
Of the vast Region of his Providence,
And through the very Microscope of sense
Perceive so much, as we may learn from thence
How great he is.—
Some little Maps we may with safety draw,
Of the vast Region of his Providence,
And through the very Microscope of sense
Perceive so much, as we may learn from thence
How great he is.—
Yet after all, the best of us I doubt,
Cannot with all his curious Wit, find out
His true Perfection, which no Mortal sure
Can further see, then in the Miniature
Of his external works: for he is great
Beyond what all our Art can calculate.
He govern'd all, before what now we see,
Appear'd to us: 'twas God, 'twas only he,
That rul'd all before Infant Time did fly
Out of the belly of Eternity:
To which (though we on Earth would fain restrain
Its rapide flight) it hastes, with speed again.
Before it in the World set up a Shop,
And sold that necessary Toy call'd Hope,
Which every day we buy at any rate,
The Pedling Churle is pleas'd to estimate,
Before this Time appear'd, e're it was known,
He ordered all things from his heavenly Throne,
And will so do, when Time is broke, and gone.
Cannot with all his curious Wit, find out
His true Perfection, which no Mortal sure
Can further see, then in the Miniature
Of his external works: for he is great
Beyond what all our Art can calculate.
He govern'd all, before what now we see,
Appear'd to us: 'twas God, 'twas only he,
That rul'd all before Infant Time did fly
Out of the belly of Eternity:
To which (though we on Earth would fain restrain
Its rapide flight) it hastes, with speed again.
Before it in the World set up a Shop,
And sold that necessary Toy call'd Hope,
Which every day we buy at any rate,
The Pedling Churle is pleas'd to estimate,
Before this Time appear'd, e're it was known,
He ordered all things from his heavenly Throne,
And will so do, when Time is broke, and gone.
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Let none attempt then by Philosophy,
T'unriddle this great divine mystery
Of Providence: but rest content with what
May with their reason be proportionat:
For even the knowledge of those common things,
Which we by art can fathom, surely brings
No little satisfaction to our mind:
For as in Copper Ore we sometimes find
Some grains of Gold ly hidden in the Vein:
So, without doubt, Gods outward works contain
Some scattered grains of his Excellency,
Perceptible by a just, serious eye.
Though, after all, the knowledge we attain
By all these outward signs do not explain
What God is fully, no, that is indeed
A knowledge, which doth all our art exceed.
For God's a thing incomprehensible,
Infinit, boundless, and invisible,
And by no rules of art definible.
T'unriddle this great divine mystery
Of Providence: but rest content with what
May with their reason be proportionat:
For even the knowledge of those common things,
Which we by art can fathom, surely brings
No little satisfaction to our mind:
For as in Copper Ore we sometimes find
Some grains of Gold ly hidden in the Vein:
So, without doubt, Gods outward works contain
Some scattered grains of his Excellency,
Perceptible by a just, serious eye.
Though, after all, the knowledge we attain
By all these outward signs do not explain
What God is fully, no, that is indeed
A knowledge, which doth all our art exceed.
For God's a thing incomprehensible,
Infinit, boundless, and invisible,
And by no rules of art definible.
Then let us view the Heavens, and see what there,
Doth worth our admiration appear:
And first we may discern with little pain,
Even in that small phenomenon of rain,
No small appearance, no small demonstration,
O'th' God of Natures powerful operation,
In ord'ring on't: for he commands the Sun,
As in his dayly progress he doth run,
About the Earth, to suck up here, and there
What vapours moist, and unctuous do appear
Upon its surface which he gathereth
In several Clouds, and these distributeth
In all the quarters of the spacious Air,
Whilst out o'th' vapours he doth rain prepare.
That finish'd, and those clouds all mustered
Before him, ready, if so ordered,
With their whole force upon the Earth to fall,
And in a general Deluge drown us all.
As once they did loos'd by his mighty hand,
And would do yet, if he should so command:
He kindly doth their violence restrain,
And makes them only squirt themselves in rain.
Doth worth our admiration appear:
And first we may discern with little pain,
Even in that small phenomenon of rain,
No small appearance, no small demonstration,
O'th' God of Natures powerful operation,
In ord'ring on't: for he commands the Sun,
As in his dayly progress he doth run,
About the Earth, to suck up here, and there
What vapours moist, and unctuous do appear
Upon its surface which he gathereth
In several Clouds, and these distributeth
In all the quarters of the spacious Air,
Whilst out o'th' vapours he doth rain prepare.
That finish'd, and those clouds all mustered
Before him, ready, if so ordered,
With their whole force upon the Earth to fall,
And in a general Deluge drown us all.
As once they did loos'd by his mighty hand,
And would do yet, if he should so command:
He kindly doth their violence restrain,
And makes them only squirt themselves in rain.
So, that, as through a Seive, in little drops,
Those waters now do fall, and feed the hopes
O'th' Labourer, when he perceives his Grain
Spread out its ears, by th'influence of rain:
And every drop, which on the Earth doth fall,
In its due season prove spermatical.
Those waters now do fall, and feed the hopes
O'th' Labourer, when he perceives his Grain
Spread out its ears, by th'influence of rain:
And every drop, which on the Earth doth fall,
In its due season prove spermatical.
But O, what art, what language can declare
The motions of these Clouds, whilst here, and there
In troops they ramble, and to us appear
T'observe no order; but so scattering
Themselves, as if they went a forraging,
Through all the spacious Sky, would make us stand
Amaz'd, if so we did not understand
Th'Almighty is their Captain General,
That he commands in chief, and gives out all
The orders for these motions, so that we
Even in those ramblings do his glory see.
For when by their great Master ordered,
I'th' twinkling of an eye, they'll over-spread
The face of Heav'ns, and make all darkness there,
Where late the Sun most brightly did appear.
There in Battalia for some time they stand,
Expecting further orders; when at hand
Another Body of hot Clouds he makes
Fall on that Host, which, with great sury breaks
That mighty Squadron, yet it doth not yeeld
At first, nor in disorder quit the Field,
For all the others fury, but doth make
A strong resistance to their fierce attaque:
Long time they fight, whilst we with fear and wonder,
Expect they'll tear the Universe assunder:
For Lightnings in small Parties furiously
Burst through the thickest Clouds, and in the Sky
Make a strange Figure, and not only there,
But ev'n on Earth their fury doth appear,
When now and then beasts, buildings, men, what not
Are burnt, and wounded by their randome shot.
Nay Fishes in the Sea, when they do hear
Such rumbling in the Firmament, do fear
A general Conflagration, and run
Down to the bottom of the Seas, to shun
The fury of those Combatants: but there
They hardly safety find, for every where
Those Warring Clouds do make a mighty sound,
And fright all both above, and under ground.
The motions of these Clouds, whilst here, and there
In troops they ramble, and to us appear
T'observe no order; but so scattering
Themselves, as if they went a forraging,
Through all the spacious Sky, would make us stand
Amaz'd, if so we did not understand
322
That he commands in chief, and gives out all
The orders for these motions, so that we
Even in those ramblings do his glory see.
For when by their great Master ordered,
I'th' twinkling of an eye, they'll over-spread
The face of Heav'ns, and make all darkness there,
Where late the Sun most brightly did appear.
There in Battalia for some time they stand,
Expecting further orders; when at hand
Another Body of hot Clouds he makes
Fall on that Host, which, with great sury breaks
That mighty Squadron, yet it doth not yeeld
At first, nor in disorder quit the Field,
For all the others fury, but doth make
A strong resistance to their fierce attaque:
Long time they fight, whilst we with fear and wonder,
Expect they'll tear the Universe assunder:
For Lightnings in small Parties furiously
Burst through the thickest Clouds, and in the Sky
Make a strange Figure, and not only there,
But ev'n on Earth their fury doth appear,
When now and then beasts, buildings, men, what not
Are burnt, and wounded by their randome shot.
Nay Fishes in the Sea, when they do hear
Such rumbling in the Firmament, do fear
A general Conflagration, and run
Down to the bottom of the Seas, to shun
The fury of those Combatants: but there
They hardly safety find, for every where
Those Warring Clouds do make a mighty sound,
And fright all both above, and under ground.
Yet after all, when we do still expect
Those Clouds of Water will in pieces break,
By this so strong collision; when we
Confounded quite, by what we hear and see,
Do think those Clouds will let their Liquor out,
Not as through Sieve, but as through Water-spout,
And in great horrour, and sad consternation,
Expect a full and general inundation;
Why then we see how gracious Providence
Doth order, that for our convenience,
Which we suspected had been ordered
For our destruction; and imagined
VVe were all lost.—
For when those Warriours have their fury spent,
And with their mutual force, each other rent:
The event of this Battel doth produce
No more, than what is proper for the use
Of every thing that lives: for by and by
Those Clouds do only drop, as formerly,
In showres of Rain; as they're accustomed,
By which the earth is kindly moistened;
Rewarding all the labourers toyl and sweat,
And by fair Harvest, doth afford us meat.
Those Clouds of Water will in pieces break,
By this so strong collision; when we
Confounded quite, by what we hear and see,
Do think those Clouds will let their Liquor out,
Not as through Sieve, but as through Water-spout,
And in great horrour, and sad consternation,
Expect a full and general inundation;
Why then we see how gracious Providence
Doth order, that for our convenience,
Which we suspected had been ordered
For our destruction; and imagined
VVe were all lost.—
For when those Warriours have their fury spent,
And with their mutual force, each other rent:
The event of this Battel doth produce
No more, than what is proper for the use
Of every thing that lives: for by and by
Those Clouds do only drop, as formerly,
In showres of Rain; as they're accustomed,
By which the earth is kindly moistened;
Rewarding all the labourers toyl and sweat,
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Then if at any time to evidence
The vast extent o'th' power of Providence,
He should command the Sun to hide his face;
(Which so much of his glory doth express)
And gathering in his scattered rayes to shroud
Himself within the mantle of a cloud:
Why he's obey'd: and we, for many dayes,
Condole the absence of those glorious rayes:
Whilst Clouds, Foggs, Rain, are th'only things which now
We see about us, and with much ado
Deprived of that comfortable light
We faintly do distinguish day from night.
Yet must we not despair, but still expect
That when our God thinks fit, the Sun will take
That covering from his face, and by and by
Appear as bright, as he did formerly.
The vast extent o'th' power of Providence,
He should command the Sun to hide his face;
(Which so much of his glory doth express)
And gathering in his scattered rayes to shroud
Himself within the mantle of a cloud:
Why he's obey'd: and we, for many dayes,
Condole the absence of those glorious rayes:
Whilst Clouds, Foggs, Rain, are th'only things which now
We see about us, and with much ado
Deprived of that comfortable light
We faintly do distinguish day from night.
Yet must we not despair, but still expect
That when our God thinks fit, the Sun will take
That covering from his face, and by and by
Appear as bright, as he did formerly.
And now again I must with no small wonder,
Speak of this great Phœnomenon of Thunder,
This dreadful subject, this stupendious thing,
That only should attend so great a King,
And in its high, commanding Dialect,
The pomp and grandeur of its Master speak.
A thing, whose horrid noise doth so confound
The race of Creatures all the world around,
That those, that live on Earth, in Sea, and Air,
At noise of Thunder, tremble all for fear.
Speak of this great Phœnomenon of Thunder,
This dreadful subject, this stupendious thing,
That only should attend so great a King,
And in its high, commanding Dialect,
The pomp and grandeur of its Master speak.
A thing, whose horrid noise doth so confound
The race of Creatures all the world around,
That those, that live on Earth, in Sea, and Air,
At noise of Thunder, tremble all for fear.
Cap. XXXVII.
At this I also quake, my heart doth beat,
Frighted almost out of its proper seat:
For when on this great work of God I think,
The very name of Thunder makes me shrink.
Frighted almost out of its proper seat:
For when on this great work of God I think,
The very name of Thunder makes me shrink.
Heark how th'Almighty doth his speech direct
To us in this same thundring Dialect:
Heark—even at this time, whilst I yet do speak:
Heark—how the noise increases more and more,
Whilst all Heav'ns great Artilery do roar:
Heark how his words do sound from North to South,
In flames, and lightning issuing from his mouth.
To us in this same thundring Dialect:
Heark—even at this time, whilst I yet do speak:
Heark—how the noise increases more and more,
Whilst all Heav'ns great Artilery do roar:
Heark how his words do sound from North to South,
In flames, and lightning issuing from his mouth.
All under Heav'ns do hear them, and a[illeg.]m
The voice of God amidst those clouds of fire:
Not that this Thunder is of such extent,
As all that breath below the Firmament,
Hear it at once, as if 'twere general;
No, at one time he doth not speak to all;
But to what ever people he would speak,
Thither assoon he doth himself direct
In this same dreadful language, for he will
Be heard by all: yes, he will thunder still,
Until the deafest, and most hardned ear
Do all the words of that loud message hear.
The voice of God amidst those clouds of fire:
Not that this Thunder is of such extent,
As all that breath below the Firmament,
Hear it at once, as if 'twere general;
No, at one time he doth not speak to all;
But to what ever people he would speak,
Thither assoon he doth himself direct
In this same dreadful language, for he will
324
Until the deafest, and most hardned ear
Do all the words of that loud message hear.
For first, before we hear this dreadful voice,
Before our slower sense can hear the noise,
Which, when the mighty Prince of Princes speaks
Amidst that heap of ratling Clouds, he makes;
We see some Troops of Avant-Curiors fly
Hither, and thither, lightly through the Sky,
Known by the name of Lightnings, these appear
Only to show to mankind, as it were,
That the Almighty doth himself draw near.
Not, but that first, with reason we suppose
The watry Clouds, through whose Battalions those
Have made their way by force, are wholly broke,
Not able to sustain the furious shock
O'th' fiery Clouds, by which the noise is made,
But that by th'eye these are discovered,
Before the duller, counterwinding ear
The noise in its perfection can hear.
For the light lightning in an instant flyes
Through th'Air, and soon appears before our eyes;
Whilst th'heavier sound a slower march doth make,
And through the Azure by degrees doth break;
But in a little, after these appear;
Then a most sense-confounding voice we hear:
A voice of power, a voice of excellence,
A voice of glory, and preeminence
Above all voices: a stupendious noise,
A most majestick, and commanding voice.
Nay, after in the Thunder he doth speak,
Yet still these Lightnings light incursions make,
Even to our very Gates, yea furiously
In at our doors and windows they do fly.
As if, whilst the main body of this Thunder
Encamp'd aloft, t'augment our fear, and wonder,
These forragers were sent to kill, and plunder.
For these Pickeerers, firing here and there,
Do with their small Shot raise no little fear,
Killing, or making of such subtile wounds,
As even their sight the Surgeons skill confounds,
Whilst by a Thunder-bolt, the bones within
Are broke to pieces, and th'outward skin
Untouch'd: nay sometimes these adventurers will
Perform some other pranks, to show their skill
In shooting, even on things inanimate,
As if with sport they would us sometimes treat,
And to allay our fears, would play the wag,
Melting a sum of Money in a Bag,
This still ty'd, seal'd, and closs, or emptying
A Hogshead full of Wine; whilst no such thing
Doth to the Cooper, by the Cask appear,
That being still untouch'd, sound, and intire:
With many such too numerous to relate,
Both on things living, and inanimate,
As we may dayly see. Yet God will not
For all his Thunder, stay those murdering shot.
But still permits th'allarum'd world to feell
Some hurt from those small bombs, which makes them reel
Like mad men, and in their reiterat fits,
Run almost out of all their little wits.
Before our slower sense can hear the noise,
Which, when the mighty Prince of Princes speaks
Amidst that heap of ratling Clouds, he makes;
We see some Troops of Avant-Curiors fly
Hither, and thither, lightly through the Sky,
Known by the name of Lightnings, these appear
Only to show to mankind, as it were,
That the Almighty doth himself draw near.
Not, but that first, with reason we suppose
The watry Clouds, through whose Battalions those
Have made their way by force, are wholly broke,
Not able to sustain the furious shock
O'th' fiery Clouds, by which the noise is made,
But that by th'eye these are discovered,
Before the duller, counterwinding ear
The noise in its perfection can hear.
For the light lightning in an instant flyes
Through th'Air, and soon appears before our eyes;
Whilst th'heavier sound a slower march doth make,
And through the Azure by degrees doth break;
But in a little, after these appear;
Then a most sense-confounding voice we hear:
A voice of power, a voice of excellence,
A voice of glory, and preeminence
Above all voices: a stupendious noise,
A most majestick, and commanding voice.
Nay, after in the Thunder he doth speak,
Yet still these Lightnings light incursions make,
Even to our very Gates, yea furiously
In at our doors and windows they do fly.
As if, whilst the main body of this Thunder
Encamp'd aloft, t'augment our fear, and wonder,
These forragers were sent to kill, and plunder.
For these Pickeerers, firing here and there,
Do with their small Shot raise no little fear,
Killing, or making of such subtile wounds,
As even their sight the Surgeons skill confounds,
Whilst by a Thunder-bolt, the bones within
Are broke to pieces, and th'outward skin
Untouch'd: nay sometimes these adventurers will
Perform some other pranks, to show their skill
In shooting, even on things inanimate,
As if with sport they would us sometimes treat,
And to allay our fears, would play the wag,
Melting a sum of Money in a Bag,
This still ty'd, seal'd, and closs, or emptying
A Hogshead full of Wine; whilst no such thing
Doth to the Cooper, by the Cask appear,
That being still untouch'd, sound, and intire:
With many such too numerous to relate,
325
As we may dayly see. Yet God will not
For all his Thunder, stay those murdering shot.
But still permits th'allarum'd world to feell
Some hurt from those small bombs, which makes them reel
Like mad men, and in their reiterat fits,
Run almost out of all their little wits.
Thus, when our God doth speak, in fire, and thunder,
He seems to rent the very Heavens assunder,
As if he now to mankind, in his wrath,
Did nothing, but a full destruction breath:
As if he mean't t'unhinge the doors of Nature,
And let in death on every living creature.
Nay, so he speaks, as if he did intend
To bring this goodly Fabrick to an end.
Yet after all he's still so kind to men,
As he shuts up this terrible Campaign,
At last in a Cessation of rain.
He seems to rent the very Heavens assunder,
As if he now to mankind, in his wrath,
Did nothing, but a full destruction breath:
As if he mean't t'unhinge the doors of Nature,
And let in death on every living creature.
Nay, so he speaks, as if he did intend
To bring this goodly Fabrick to an end.
Yet after all he's still so kind to men,
As he shuts up this terrible Campaign,
At last in a Cessation of rain.
But what needs more, 'twere tedious to relate,
How many other things both high, and great,
Our God performs: things strange and marvellous,
Things neither known, nor understood by us:
Things, which our proud philosophy transcend,
Things, which our reason cannot comprehend.
Of such great things then I shall speak no more,
But only here, as I have said before,
By these great outward works, we may perceive
With how much reason, we do all believe,
That he, who made all these, must surely be
In greatnesse far beyond all that we see.
On lesse things now then my discourse shall run,
A word of snow, and frost, and I ha' done.
How many other things both high, and great,
Our God performs: things strange and marvellous,
Things neither known, nor understood by us:
Things, which our proud philosophy transcend,
Things, which our reason cannot comprehend.
Of such great things then I shall speak no more,
But only here, as I have said before,
By these great outward works, we may perceive
With how much reason, we do all believe,
That he, who made all these, must surely be
In greatnesse far beyond all that we see.
On lesse things now then my discourse shall run,
A word of snow, and frost, and I ha' done.
He, who did all create, doth all command,
Holds all the Keys of Nature in his hand,
Unlocks the doors of these great Magazines
Of rouling Clouds, where vapours of all kinds
Are keep'd in store.—
Whence as he judges it convenient,
Now this, now that upon the Earth is sent:
And but a word he uses, for annon,
As he doth speak, the businesse is done.
He says to Snow, go thou, and quickly fall
On Earth, and as soon we are pouldred all;
Woods, Mountains, Valleys, Houses, all below
Are wrapp'd up in a sheet of ivory snow,
Annon he calls for rain, both great, and small,
And bids now this, now that upon us fall,
All do obey him: all do quickly run,
Where ordered, and what he commands is done.
Holds all the Keys of Nature in his hand,
Unlocks the doors of these great Magazines
Of rouling Clouds, where vapours of all kinds
Are keep'd in store.—
Whence as he judges it convenient,
Now this, now that upon the Earth is sent:
And but a word he uses, for annon,
As he doth speak, the businesse is done.
He says to Snow, go thou, and quickly fall
On Earth, and as soon we are pouldred all;
Woods, Mountains, Valleys, Houses, all below
Are wrapp'd up in a sheet of ivory snow,
Annon he calls for rain, both great, and small,
And bids now this, now that upon us fall,
All do obey him: all do quickly run,
Where ordered, and what he commands is done.
For instantly down from the Clouds doth fall,
Such quantity of rain, as makes us all
Give o're our works i'th' field, and lay aside
Our labouring Tools, and within doors abide.
Such quantity of rain, as makes us all
Give o're our works i'th' field, and lay aside
Our labouring Tools, and within doors abide.
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Then go the Beasts too to their several dens,
And there themselves do shelter, while it rains.
Not able to resist the storm, and there
The fiercest of them is a Prisoner:
Until the rain be over, and the sky
Again put on a bright serenity.
And there themselves do shelter, while it rains.
Not able to resist the storm, and there
The fiercest of them is a Prisoner:
Until the rain be over, and the sky
Again put on a bright serenity.
That rapid wind, which wrapp'd up in a cloud
Around us for some time doth roar aloud:
The whirle-wind, which on all hands blusters so,
As if it out of every Point did blow,
Doth, as I take it, from the Southern Pole,
Upon us, with a deal of fury roule.
As by the boistrous North-wind cold is thought
To be into our Southern Countreys brought.
Around us for some time doth roar aloud:
The whirle-wind, which on all hands blusters so,
As if it out of every Point did blow,
Doth, as I take it, from the Southern Pole,
Upon us, with a deal of fury roule.
As by the boistrous North-wind cold is thought
To be into our Southern Countreys brought.
For with that wind the hoary frost appears
With Ice-sickles dangling about his ears:
Upon our running Rivers he doth seize,
And spite of their swift current makes them freeze,
As also Lakes, Pools, Ditches, Marishes;
And where before we sail'd, now in a trice
We run in Sledges all along the Ice.
With Ice-sickles dangling about his ears:
Upon our running Rivers he doth seize,
And spite of their swift current makes them freeze,
As also Lakes, Pools, Ditches, Marishes;
And where before we sail'd, now in a trice
We run in Sledges all along the Ice.
He makes the Clouds, with constant drudgery,
(Like Slaves condemn'd to pump) incessantly
Fill all our Canals; and the earth supply,
With water at all times, as it doth need,
And in that service, they're so hurried
Hither, and thither posted, here, and there,
In this, or th'other place, nay every where,
As he thinks fit; that as 't were out of breath,
They halt, till with his hand he scattereth
Them all along the Sky, and makes them flow
In gentle rain, whether they will or no.
(Like Slaves condemn'd to pump) incessantly
Fill all our Canals; and the earth supply,
With water at all times, as it doth need,
And in that service, they're so hurried
Hither, and thither posted, here, and there,
In this, or th'other place, nay every where,
As he thinks fit; that as 't were out of breath,
They halt, till with his hand he scattereth
Them all along the Sky, and makes them flow
In gentle rain, whether they will or no.
For all those numerous vapour-chests, which we
Call clouds, and counter-tumbling daily see
Above our heads, by him are ordered,
Assembled, or in parties quartered
Even as he will: he makes them turn, and reel
I'th' Air, like the swift motion of a Wheel;
When he thinks fit: he makes them pour out rain
In any place o'th' earth he doth ordain.
Call clouds, and counter-tumbling daily see
Above our heads, by him are ordered,
Assembled, or in parties quartered
Even as he will: he makes them turn, and reel
I'th' Air, like the swift motion of a Wheel;
When he thinks fit: he makes them pour out rain
In any place o'th' earth he doth ordain.
Those Clouds on several errands he doth send,
Some judgements, others mercies do portend:
Each of 'em doth its own commission bear,
For good, or ill: and none of 'em appear,
Without a special warrand any where.
Some judgements, others mercies do portend:
Each of 'em doth its own commission bear,
For good, or ill: and none of 'em appear,
Without a special warrand any where.
And now observe, O Job, take heed I pray,
Compose thy self, advert to what I say,
Consider, pray, consider seriously
The works of God; and in sobriety
Remark the methods of his providence,
His power, his justice, and his excellence.
Compose thy self, advert to what I say,
Consider, pray, consider seriously
The works of God; and in sobriety
Remark the methods of his providence,
His power, his justice, and his excellence.
Dost understand those things? dost thou conceive
The meaning of those wonders? dost believe
That all those Clouds, do march, retire, disband,
Or war amongst themselves at his command.
The meaning of those wonders? dost believe
That all those Clouds, do march, retire, disband,
327
Dost understand their motions, here and there,
Or how by a just Ballance in the Air,
He makes them hang above us? dost thou know
On what they do depend? or canst thou show
By what art he doth raise those Clouds on high,
Beyond the reach of sight, and by and by,
Doth let them down so low, as one with pain,
Would think they could be hoised up agaèn.
Which certainly is a great demonstration
Of his vast knowledge, and with admiration
On such things we should look.—
Or how by a just Ballance in the Air,
He makes them hang above us? dost thou know
On what they do depend? or canst thou show
By what art he doth raise those Clouds on high,
Beyond the reach of sight, and by and by,
Doth let them down so low, as one with pain,
Would think they could be hoised up agaèn.
Which certainly is a great demonstration
Of his vast knowledge, and with admiration
On such things we should look.—
Dost understand, my friend, from whence the heat
Proceeds, which is so violently great,
As sometimes it can scarce be tollerat?
When gentle Breezes from the South do blow,
But when out of the North, it is not so.
Proceeds, which is so violently great,
As sometimes it can scarce be tollerat?
When gentle Breezes from the South do blow,
But when out of the North, it is not so.
Dost understand how he the Air has spread,
Like a fair Sheet of Lawn above thy head?
The thin, and fluid Air, oft broke to pieces
By justling Clouds, and violent impresses
Of Lightnings: and yet after all, this Air
Appears transparent, and so calmly fair,
As it in pleasant brightness, doth surpass
The beauty of the finest Chrystal Glass.
Like a fair Sheet of Lawn above thy head?
The thin, and fluid Air, oft broke to pieces
By justling Clouds, and violent impresses
Of Lightnings: and yet after all, this Air
Appears transparent, and so calmly fair,
As it in pleasant brightness, doth surpass
The beauty of the finest Chrystal Glass.
If then thou understandest all those things,
And wouldst thy self plead with the King of kings,
In person: pray be pleas'd to let us hear,
What thou wouldst say, if God should now appear
Upon his Throne? if he should show his face,
And bid thee freely speak upon thy case?
What couldst thou say? or if thou dar'st not speak
To him thy self, but dost perhaps expect
That we should be thy Proctors, tell us pray,
What we to God on thy behalf shall say?
For thou, it seems, great knowledge dost enhance,
Whilst we are buried in deep ignorance.
And wouldst thy self plead with the King of kings,
In person: pray be pleas'd to let us hear,
What thou wouldst say, if God should now appear
Upon his Throne? if he should show his face,
And bid thee freely speak upon thy case?
What couldst thou say? or if thou dar'st not speak
To him thy self, but dost perhaps expect
That we should be thy Proctors, tell us pray,
What we to God on thy behalf shall say?
For thou, it seems, great knowledge dost enhance,
Whilst we are buried in deep ignorance.
Then which of us thy friends wouldst have to speak
To this great God in thy defence, and make
Apology for thee: pray let us hear,
For, if thou dost desire I should appear
In thy behalf, I must demand excuse,
For, seriously, my friend, I do not use
To plead with God for any man, indeed
I do not think it lawful so to plead:
But if thou wilt that I should pray for thee
To that just God, who doth both hear, and see
What passes now amongst us, let me know
And I shall quickly do it, for if so,
I do but that good office, which I owe
To all men: I in Prayer dare address
At all times, and for all men, but to press
My God to give a reason, why he now
Doth punish thee: truth that I dare not do.
No, no, for to be free with thee; my friend,
There's no man here dares so expresse his mind,
As thou hast done? at least, I'me not the man
Dares undertake this; for I neither can
Nor dare, by publick Program, intimate
That I am with my Maker to debate:
For, if I did, I might expect a stroak
From him, whom, by so doing I'd provoke
To wrath against me, and for my offence,
That I by death should soon be hurried hence.
To this great God in thy defence, and make
Apology for thee: pray let us hear,
For, if thou dost desire I should appear
In thy behalf, I must demand excuse,
For, seriously, my friend, I do not use
To plead with God for any man, indeed
I do not think it lawful so to plead:
But if thou wilt that I should pray for thee
To that just God, who doth both hear, and see
What passes now amongst us, let me know
And I shall quickly do it, for if so,
I do but that good office, which I owe
To all men: I in Prayer dare address
At all times, and for all men, but to press
My God to give a reason, why he now
Doth punish thee: truth that I dare not do.
328
There's no man here dares so expresse his mind,
As thou hast done? at least, I'me not the man
Dares undertake this; for I neither can
Nor dare, by publick Program, intimate
That I am with my Maker to debate:
For, if I did, I might expect a stroak
From him, whom, by so doing I'd provoke
To wrath against me, and for my offence,
That I by death should soon be hurried hence.
But what needs further, let us cast our eyes,
But, at this instant, up into the Skyes:
Let us observe but how the troubled Air,
All overspread with Clouds doth now appear:
Who by their throng Eclipse the Heavens light,
And keep the glorious Sun out of our sight.
See how those Clouds from every quarter march,
In several bodies through the spacious Arch,
In dreadful squadrons strong, and numerous,
All hastning to the general Rendevous:
T'attend the King of Heavens, who, as I guesse,
By such great preparations, as these,
Intends himself in person to appear;—
Heark, how these Clouds do ramble:—dos't not hear
A noise of Thunder? dost not now espy
The Van-guard of his lightnings nimbly fly,
In rambling parties through the darkned Air?—
Yes sure, our God himself will now appear:
For, as by dust afar, we quickly know
Th'approach of mighty armies; even so
By such prognosticks, we may understand,
The Lord of Hosts is now himself at hand:
Unlesse the winds do clear that troubled state,
And all those foggy vapours dissipate.
But, at this instant, up into the Skyes:
Let us observe but how the troubled Air,
All overspread with Clouds doth now appear:
Who by their throng Eclipse the Heavens light,
And keep the glorious Sun out of our sight.
See how those Clouds from every quarter march,
In several bodies through the spacious Arch,
In dreadful squadrons strong, and numerous,
All hastning to the general Rendevous:
T'attend the King of Heavens, who, as I guesse,
By such great preparations, as these,
Intends himself in person to appear;—
Heark, how these Clouds do ramble:—dos't not hear
A noise of Thunder? dost not now espy
The Van-guard of his lightnings nimbly fly,
In rambling parties through the darkned Air?—
Yes sure, our God himself will now appear:
For, as by dust afar, we quickly know
Th'approach of mighty armies; even so
By such prognosticks, we may understand,
The Lord of Hosts is now himself at hand:
Unlesse the winds do clear that troubled state,
And all those foggy vapours dissipate.
For, if the Northern winds should blow apace,
'Twould scatter soon those sad appearances;
And by its cold, and cleansing blasts restore
Th'Air to the same state, as it was before.
'Twould scatter soon those sad appearances;
And by its cold, and cleansing blasts restore
Th'Air to the same state, as it was before.
But still I think th'Almighty God draws nigh,
Th'Almighty terrible in Majesty,
And that these great (though usual preparations)
Are but so many signs, and demonstrations
Of his approach.—Here then he comes,—he comes—
With such a noise, as millions of Drums,
Trumpets, and Symbals cannot parrallel:
Th'Almighty God, who doth in power excel,
All that we can imagine now draws near,
And he himself in judgement will appear:
Th'Almighty terrible in Majesty,
And that these great (though usual preparations)
Are but so many signs, and demonstrations
Of his approach.—Here then he comes,—he comes—
With such a noise, as millions of Drums,
Trumpets, and Symbals cannot parrallel:
Th'Almighty God, who doth in power excel,
All that we can imagine now draws near,
And he himself in judgement will appear:
That after all this tedious debate,
Mannag'd on all hands, with such zealous heat,
The supream Judge o'th' world may decide
The controversie: and show either side,
Where they have been i'th' right, where in the wrong,
And let thee see, my friend, how all along,
Upon the matter thou hast err'd, and now
What thou so oft desir'd, he will allow:
He'll hear thee now himself, he'll challenge thee
Now to debate, and thou shalt quickly see
What 'tis before th'Almighty God to plead,
Yes, now thou shalt perceive, thou shalt indeed,
What 'tis to speak with him, remember now,
'Tis not with us thy friends thou hast to do;
But 'tis with God, that will not be abus'd
By such wild reasoning, as thou hast us'd
With us: no, don't mistake, thou hast to do
With no less then the Judge of Judges now.
With thy Creator: one whom mortal Men
Cannot esteem too much: prepare thee then
To hear him; be attentive, when he speaks,
For hear how in the Thunder he directs
His speech to thee: I therefore shall forbear
Further to speak, since he doth now appear,
But what he speaks, shall with attention hear.
Mannag'd on all hands, with such zealous heat,
The supream Judge o'th' world may decide
The controversie: and show either side,
Where they have been i'th' right, where in the wrong,
And let thee see, my friend, how all along,
329
What thou so oft desir'd, he will allow:
He'll hear thee now himself, he'll challenge thee
Now to debate, and thou shalt quickly see
What 'tis before th'Almighty God to plead,
Yes, now thou shalt perceive, thou shalt indeed,
What 'tis to speak with him, remember now,
'Tis not with us thy friends thou hast to do;
But 'tis with God, that will not be abus'd
By such wild reasoning, as thou hast us'd
With us: no, don't mistake, thou hast to do
With no less then the Judge of Judges now.
With thy Creator: one whom mortal Men
Cannot esteem too much: prepare thee then
To hear him; be attentive, when he speaks,
For hear how in the Thunder he directs
His speech to thee: I therefore shall forbear
Further to speak, since he doth now appear,
But what he speaks, shall with attention hear.
| The grand Tryal | |