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. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. | Cap. XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| V. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
 | The grand Tryal |  |
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
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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,
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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
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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
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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.
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“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.
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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
312
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.
| The grand Tryal | |