 | Sion in distress |  |
Sion's Children.
Ah Mother! who can disallow your moan?
The Cause is just, for every one must own
Our failings great, and that our sins provoke
Impending Judgments, and a future Stroke,
If interceding Mercy steps not in
To ward the blow, and cancel out our Sin.
But since unthought-of Providence gives light,
And calls the Sun to see the Acts of Night;
Since Heav'n exposes the Results of Rome
To Publick Notice; since the Traytors come
To Legal Execution; since the grand
Contrivers of this Mischief dare not stand
To Test of Law, or due Examination;
Since such brave Heroes represent the Nation,
Whose clear sagacious penetrating Eyes
Dive into Rome's abhorred Mysteries;
Whose Nobler Souls, whose Loyal English Hearts,
The closest Slights of Antichristian Arts
Can ne'er deceive; whose brave Resolves defeat
Those curs'd Delinquents, whether small or great:
Whose Free-born Courages do scorn to stoop
To be the Vassals of a Rascal-Pope,
An Upstart Imp, whose Title ne'er was given
By binding Laws of either Earth or Heaven.
We therefore, dearest Mother, do conclude,
That what has past of Romish Interlude,
Is near an Exit; that the Scene will be
Chang'd from a Tempest to Serenity.
Sion.
Sion's Children.
O dismal State! O miserable Case!
Enough to daunt all that are void of Grace!
And crush the bragging of the stoutest mind!
But are there still more grievances behind?
Sion.
Sion's Children.
Ah Mother! who can remedy your grief?
For this Disease admits of no relief.
Sion.
Sion's Children.
Our Common Danger, and the Real Sence
(Which we have got by dear Experience)
Of those Advantages, our cruel Foe
Gets by our Factions, will unite us so,
As that our Enemys shall ne're prevail
To break our League, or make our Courage fail:
But tell, Dear Mother, has some new affright
So dis-compos'd you, that you fear our Light
Is near Extinction? tell your Sons, we pray,
What are the Symptoms of th'expiring Day.
Why do you judge, that England's Day of Grace
Draws to an Evening, and declines apace?
Shew some Prognosticks of that dismal Night,
That threatens to succeed our Gospel-Light.
Sion.
Sion's Children.
Ah! how can we with any Patience bear
This sad Complaint? Can any Children hear
Their Mother delug'd in a Sea of Grief,
And not step in to give her some relief!
Chear up, Illustrious Spouse, and be not cast
Into despair, by this approaching blast:
Christ is our Captain, then we may be bold,
In all our storms, he is our Anchor-hold.
But what's this Beast, of whom thou dost complain?
Whence came he first? and of what date's his Reign?
Give us his Marks, that we may surely know him,
Repel his Pride, and quickly overthrow him
With Universal and United Force,
Our Armed Legions shall impede his Course.
If God Commands (who do's the Scepter wield)
Wee'll fight his Battels, and dispute his Field.
In Martial Syllogisms our Arms shall speak:
Wee'll storm his Wall, and make his Pillars quake.
A raging Anger in our Bosom burns,
Patience provok't too much, to Fury turns.
Sion.
Ah Mother! who can disallow your moan?
The Cause is just, for every one must own
Our failings great, and that our sins provoke
Impending Judgments, and a future Stroke,
If interceding Mercy steps not in
To ward the blow, and cancel out our Sin.
But since unthought-of Providence gives light,
And calls the Sun to see the Acts of Night;
Since Heav'n exposes the Results of Rome
To Publick Notice; since the Traytors come
To Legal Execution; since the grand
Contrivers of this Mischief dare not stand
To Test of Law, or due Examination;
Since such brave Heroes represent the Nation,
22
Dive into Rome's abhorred Mysteries;
Whose Nobler Souls, whose Loyal English Hearts,
The closest Slights of Antichristian Arts
Can ne'er deceive; whose brave Resolves defeat
Those curs'd Delinquents, whether small or great:
Whose Free-born Courages do scorn to stoop
To be the Vassals of a Rascal-Pope,
An Upstart Imp, whose Title ne'er was given
By binding Laws of either Earth or Heaven.
We therefore, dearest Mother, do conclude,
That what has past of Romish Interlude,
Is near an Exit; that the Scene will be
Chang'd from a Tempest to Serenity.
Sion.
O that's a Cordial! But my grief does borrow
Some fresh Objections to renew my sorrow:
For some that wish me well, do yet, in spite
Of Gospel-Beamings, and the clearest Light,
Retain some Romish Fragments, which displeases
The meek, the humble, self-denying JESUS.
His way of Worship, Scripture does express;
No Useless Pomp, no Artificial Dress
Becomes Religion; Chastity abhors
The Garb, the Painting, and the Gate of Whores.
Why should my Friends a Virgin-Church pollute
With any Relicks of that Prostitute?
Why Gawdy Things, that never had a Name
In sacred Records, our Profession shame?
Why are our Rites enamel'd with their Gloss?
Why must our Gold be mingled with their Dross?
Why further Reformation is supprest,
T'uphold a Grandeur that's Usurp'd at best?
Why Doors and Windows must be shut up quite,
To stop the Radiance of a further Light?
And why must such as disallow those Tricks,
Be branded as the vilest Schismaticks?
Some fresh Objections to renew my sorrow:
For some that wish me well, do yet, in spite
Of Gospel-Beamings, and the clearest Light,
Retain some Romish Fragments, which displeases
The meek, the humble, self-denying JESUS.
His way of Worship, Scripture does express;
No Useless Pomp, no Artificial Dress
Becomes Religion; Chastity abhors
The Garb, the Painting, and the Gate of Whores.
Why should my Friends a Virgin-Church pollute
With any Relicks of that Prostitute?
23
In sacred Records, our Profession shame?
Why are our Rites enamel'd with their Gloss?
Why must our Gold be mingled with their Dross?
Why further Reformation is supprest,
T'uphold a Grandeur that's Usurp'd at best?
Why Doors and Windows must be shut up quite,
To stop the Radiance of a further Light?
And why must such as disallow those Tricks,
Be branded as the vilest Schismaticks?
But that's not all: My Children more refin'd
From those Corruptions, do afflict my mind.
O depths of Sorrow that disturb my Rest!
O racking Grief that rends my woful Brest!
Some are so Carnal, some so swiftly hurl'd
Into the Labrinths of th'inticing World,
That in the hurries of that crouded Road,
They find small leasure to attend their God;
Preferring filthy Gain, and ill-got Wealth,
Before the means of their Eternal Health.
Some that in words respect me, I behold
In that sad posture, betwixt hot and cold.
Sometimes they seem for Sanctity; sometimes
Slide with the current of prevailing Crimes:
Their Pulses beat with an alternate motion;
Now for the World, then for some faint Devotion.
Some that unto my Tabernacles were
Admitted, left me for Egyptian Fare:
These not content with my Celestial Diet,
Do run with others to excess of Riot.
Some to be Popular, away would give
Those Gospel-Dutys that are positive:
From such as these, my Sorrows do increase,
That Sell Gods Order for a seeming Peace;
Such Open Gaps that do pervert the Laws
Of my just Right, and well-defended Cause.
But O! how many Easy Christians take
Their Rest in Forms, and no distinction make
'Twixt Shell and Kernel, that rely on Duty
As if it were the sole adorning Beauty?
Such give the Lord the more invalid part,
Present their Body, but deny their Heart.
From those Corruptions, do afflict my mind.
O depths of Sorrow that disturb my Rest!
O racking Grief that rends my woful Brest!
Some are so Carnal, some so swiftly hurl'd
Into the Labrinths of th'inticing World,
That in the hurries of that crouded Road,
They find small leasure to attend their God;
Preferring filthy Gain, and ill-got Wealth,
Before the means of their Eternal Health.
Some that in words respect me, I behold
In that sad posture, betwixt hot and cold.
Sometimes they seem for Sanctity; sometimes
Slide with the current of prevailing Crimes:
Their Pulses beat with an alternate motion;
Now for the World, then for some faint Devotion.
Some that unto my Tabernacles were
Admitted, left me for Egyptian Fare:
These not content with my Celestial Diet,
Do run with others to excess of Riot.
24
Those Gospel-Dutys that are positive:
From such as these, my Sorrows do increase,
That Sell Gods Order for a seeming Peace;
Such Open Gaps that do pervert the Laws
Of my just Right, and well-defended Cause.
But O! how many Easy Christians take
Their Rest in Forms, and no distinction make
'Twixt Shell and Kernel, that rely on Duty
As if it were the sole adorning Beauty?
Such give the Lord the more invalid part,
Present their Body, but deny their Heart.
Are not some Pastors careless to provide
A Word in Season, for the Flocks they guide?
Some are too backward to supply the Need
Of painful Lab'rers, that their Souls do feed:
Discourag'd by Close-fisted Avarice,
Despis'd, neglected, through this Hellish Vice.
My Workmen languish, and have cause of moan,
To see their Toyl so ineffectual grown.
The most Pathetick Preaching scarce can move
Some Rocky Hearers to the Grace of Love.
Must Hag-fac'd Envy, and foul-tongu'd Detraction,
Invenom'd Malice, and unfaithful Action,
Ill-grounded Slander, and uncertain Rumors,
Backbitings, Quarrels, and the worst of Humours
Be practic'd thus? Ah grief of griefs to see
Professing People act iniquity
To such a Pitch!—Some Husbands and some Wives
Do lead such shameful, such unsavoury Lives;
Whilst mutually at strife, they do impeach
That Name that should be very dear to each:
Such Pride, such surly, dogged reprehension
For every Toy, such sharpness and contention,
As does disgrace Religion, and does lay
Blocks and Offences in a Converts Way.
Ah! why can't Saints in Familys eschew
That which meer Heathens are asham'd to do?
Their Houses are the Scene of Civil Wars,
Of Brawls, of Discord, and Domestick Jars.
In grace or comfort can they find increase,
Or Heavenly Blessings, who are void of Peace?
A Word in Season, for the Flocks they guide?
Some are too backward to supply the Need
Of painful Lab'rers, that their Souls do feed:
Discourag'd by Close-fisted Avarice,
Despis'd, neglected, through this Hellish Vice.
My Workmen languish, and have cause of moan,
To see their Toyl so ineffectual grown.
The most Pathetick Preaching scarce can move
Some Rocky Hearers to the Grace of Love.
Must Hag-fac'd Envy, and foul-tongu'd Detraction,
Invenom'd Malice, and unfaithful Action,
Ill-grounded Slander, and uncertain Rumors,
Backbitings, Quarrels, and the worst of Humours
Be practic'd thus? Ah grief of griefs to see
Professing People act iniquity
To such a Pitch!—Some Husbands and some Wives
Do lead such shameful, such unsavoury Lives;
25
That Name that should be very dear to each:
Such Pride, such surly, dogged reprehension
For every Toy, such sharpness and contention,
As does disgrace Religion, and does lay
Blocks and Offences in a Converts Way.
Ah! why can't Saints in Familys eschew
That which meer Heathens are asham'd to do?
Their Houses are the Scene of Civil Wars,
Of Brawls, of Discord, and Domestick Jars.
In grace or comfort can they find increase,
Or Heavenly Blessings, who are void of Peace?
How oft do Parents Ill Example draw
Their tender Children to infringe the Law
And Sanctions of the Everlasting God:
Do they not spoil them when they spare the Rod?
To strict Extremes some Parents do adhere,
Check not at all, or else are too severe:
On Back and Belly they bestow much Cost,
But care not if their Precious Souls be lost:
Are they not guilty of Prodigious Folly
That teach them Courtship, & neglect what's Holy?
A Child untutor'd, (a meer lump of Sin,)
May justly curse its cause of having been.
Such as instruct, do doubly them beget,
By timely Lessons lab'ring to defeat
Their growth in Ill; such mold their better part
By wise prevention of a Canker'd heart.
O! then's the time to give 'em Form and Mold
For Trees admit no bending that are Old.
Who timely sow such seed they would have grow,
Will surely reap according as they sow.
Some like the Ape, that does by hugging kill,
Prompt on a Child to tip his tongue with ill
In his first prattle: But it is less pain
To form good Habits, then reform the vain.
Their tender Children to infringe the Law
And Sanctions of the Everlasting God:
Do they not spoil them when they spare the Rod?
To strict Extremes some Parents do adhere,
Check not at all, or else are too severe:
On Back and Belly they bestow much Cost,
But care not if their Precious Souls be lost:
Are they not guilty of Prodigious Folly
That teach them Courtship, & neglect what's Holy?
A Child untutor'd, (a meer lump of Sin,)
May justly curse its cause of having been.
Such as instruct, do doubly them beget,
By timely Lessons lab'ring to defeat
Their growth in Ill; such mold their better part
By wise prevention of a Canker'd heart.
O! then's the time to give 'em Form and Mold
For Trees admit no bending that are Old.
26
Will surely reap according as they sow.
Some like the Ape, that does by hugging kill,
Prompt on a Child to tip his tongue with ill
In his first prattle: But it is less pain
To form good Habits, then reform the vain.
On th'other hand, how many Children do
Prove vain, rebellious, disobedient to
Their godly Parents? Slight their careful teaching
Make Games of Prayer, and a mock of Preaching.
Contempt of Parents, of what kind so e'er,
Contracts a bitter Curse, which every where
Will find them out. But O my aking Soul
Beats sad Alarms of Grief! I must condole
The dismal Fate of Youth! Alas how few
The ways of God and Holiness pursue!
But very eager to obey the Devil,
In quickly learning every reigning Evil.
Here you may see, if you survey the Nation,
Our Youth grown old in vile abomination:
Such early Graduates in the Hellish Science,
Setting both Heaven and Hell at loud defiance.
Let Grace and Vertue grovel in the Dust,
Their Youth and Strength they'l sacrifice to Lust.
That sacred Precept in the Word of Truth,
To mind their Maker in the Days of Youth,
They scorn to heed: Ah fools! that would begin
Conversion, when they can no longer sin.
But know, preposterous Sots, the Day of Doom
(That dreadful Audit of Accounts) will come.
How dare you run this vile Career, till Death,
Like a Grim Serjeant, comes t'arrest your breath,
When Tongues do faulter, & your Eyestrings crack
When stings of Horror do your Conscience rack,
When Hells Abyss sets ope its spacious Gate,
And Troops of Devils round about you wait,
When nought but Horrour and Confusion seizes,
Upon your Sences, when those foul Diseases
You got by vile Debauches, have at length
Destroy'd your Person, and subdu'd your Strength,
Is this a Season to Detest your Lewdness,
To talk of Vertue, or pretend to Goodness?
Egregious Fools! how dare you to delay
Your Souls Affair to that uncertain Day!
O! Can you trust so grand a Work to that
Moment of Anguish? when you know not what
(When Sound) your end will be, nor yet how soon,
Though brisk at Morning, you may die ere Noon!
And if unchang'd, your certain Doom will be
To lye in Hell to all Eternity.
Prove vain, rebellious, disobedient to
Their godly Parents? Slight their careful teaching
Make Games of Prayer, and a mock of Preaching.
Contempt of Parents, of what kind so e'er,
Contracts a bitter Curse, which every where
Will find them out. But O my aking Soul
Beats sad Alarms of Grief! I must condole
The dismal Fate of Youth! Alas how few
The ways of God and Holiness pursue!
But very eager to obey the Devil,
In quickly learning every reigning Evil.
Here you may see, if you survey the Nation,
Our Youth grown old in vile abomination:
Such early Graduates in the Hellish Science,
Setting both Heaven and Hell at loud defiance.
Let Grace and Vertue grovel in the Dust,
Their Youth and Strength they'l sacrifice to Lust.
That sacred Precept in the Word of Truth,
To mind their Maker in the Days of Youth,
They scorn to heed: Ah fools! that would begin
Conversion, when they can no longer sin.
But know, preposterous Sots, the Day of Doom
(That dreadful Audit of Accounts) will come.
27
Like a Grim Serjeant, comes t'arrest your breath,
When Tongues do faulter, & your Eyestrings crack
When stings of Horror do your Conscience rack,
When Hells Abyss sets ope its spacious Gate,
And Troops of Devils round about you wait,
When nought but Horrour and Confusion seizes,
Upon your Sences, when those foul Diseases
You got by vile Debauches, have at length
Destroy'd your Person, and subdu'd your Strength,
Is this a Season to Detest your Lewdness,
To talk of Vertue, or pretend to Goodness?
Egregious Fools! how dare you to delay
Your Souls Affair to that uncertain Day!
O! Can you trust so grand a Work to that
Moment of Anguish? when you know not what
(When Sound) your end will be, nor yet how soon,
Though brisk at Morning, you may die ere Noon!
And if unchang'd, your certain Doom will be
To lye in Hell to all Eternity.
Sion's Children.
O dismal State! O miserable Case!
Enough to daunt all that are void of Grace!
And crush the bragging of the stoutest mind!
But are there still more grievances behind?
28
Still
more behind? O that there were no more!
Since they're too many that I've told before:
Masters and Servants, Kings and Subjects err
In their Relation: does not each prefer
Base, Selfish Ends to gratifie a Lust,
Before what's honest, and supreamly Just?
Ah! how much time, among the Saints, is spent
In fruitless, idle Talk? How negligent
In holy Conference! strange to each other!
How dull is each to quicken up his Brother
In Gospel-dutys! O! how few do nourish
That Love and Zeal which heretofore did flourish!
A Love whose flaming Heat and Gen'rous Rays
(Replete with Spirit) fam'd the former days.
Pious Discourses may reclaim the Vile;
But they are hard'ned in their Sins the while
Saints do converse like them, and rather learn
Their vicious Tricks, then teach them to discern
The dismal Snares and Perils that do lurk
In sinful Words, and every evil Work.
Some are so covetous, that they would grasp
The World in Arm-fulls, till their latest Gasp.
Some full of Envy: others do express
Their Lust on Dainties, feeding to Excess:
So nice and delicate, in choice of Meat,
Whilst their poor Brethren scarce have bread to eat.
Merchants and Traders have a nimble Art
To summ their Shop-books, but neglect the Heart;
For that they think there's time enough, and look
But seldom to the Reck'nings of that Book.
How many come for Fashion-sake to hear?
(What one receives, goes out at t'other Ear)
How many loyter in their Christian Race,
Profusely squandering the day of Grace?
Many like Drones, on others Toyl do live,
Though 'tis less honour to receive than give.
What lying, cheating, couz'ning and deceit
Do Traders use? O! how they over-rate
What they would sell? but if they be to buy,
They undervalue each Commodity.
But why should Pride, that vile Abomination,
Be found in Saints? must every Apish Fashion
Bewitch their minds, when God is so Express
In strict forbidding of so vile a Dress?
Since they're too many that I've told before:
Masters and Servants, Kings and Subjects err
In their Relation: does not each prefer
Base, Selfish Ends to gratifie a Lust,
Before what's honest, and supreamly Just?
Ah! how much time, among the Saints, is spent
In fruitless, idle Talk? How negligent
In holy Conference! strange to each other!
How dull is each to quicken up his Brother
In Gospel-dutys! O! how few do nourish
That Love and Zeal which heretofore did flourish!
A Love whose flaming Heat and Gen'rous Rays
(Replete with Spirit) fam'd the former days.
Pious Discourses may reclaim the Vile;
But they are hard'ned in their Sins the while
Saints do converse like them, and rather learn
Their vicious Tricks, then teach them to discern
The dismal Snares and Perils that do lurk
In sinful Words, and every evil Work.
Some are so covetous, that they would grasp
The World in Arm-fulls, till their latest Gasp.
Some full of Envy: others do express
Their Lust on Dainties, feeding to Excess:
So nice and delicate, in choice of Meat,
Whilst their poor Brethren scarce have bread to eat.
29
To summ their Shop-books, but neglect the Heart;
For that they think there's time enough, and look
But seldom to the Reck'nings of that Book.
How many come for Fashion-sake to hear?
(What one receives, goes out at t'other Ear)
How many loyter in their Christian Race,
Profusely squandering the day of Grace?
Many like Drones, on others Toyl do live,
Though 'tis less honour to receive than give.
What lying, cheating, couz'ning and deceit
Do Traders use? O! how they over-rate
What they would sell? but if they be to buy,
They undervalue each Commodity.
But why should Pride, that vile Abomination,
Be found in Saints? must every Apish Fashion
Bewitch their minds, when God is so Express
In strict forbidding of so vile a Dress?
Prayer, that Sacred Ordinance, that holds
An intercourse with Heaven, which beholds
The Fathers Glory, and on High does mount,
Is made by many but of small account;
'Tis that that carrys our Desires to God,
And comes down fraighted with a blessed Load
Of sweet Returns; yet 'tis much disrespected,
And Closet-Duty too too much neglected.
Scriptures themselves are slighted and dis-us'd,
And oft, when read, perverted or abus'd:
Helping the Weak, is turn'd into a slighting;
Gospel-Reproofs perverted to backbiting.
Many that do of God their Mercy crave,
Yet on the Needy little Mercy have;
All owe their Blessings to the God of Love,
Yet too too many do unthankful prove.
An intercourse with Heaven, which beholds
The Fathers Glory, and on High does mount,
Is made by many but of small account;
'Tis that that carrys our Desires to God,
And comes down fraighted with a blessed Load
Of sweet Returns; yet 'tis much disrespected,
And Closet-Duty too too much neglected.
Scriptures themselves are slighted and dis-us'd,
And oft, when read, perverted or abus'd:
Helping the Weak, is turn'd into a slighting;
Gospel-Reproofs perverted to backbiting.
30
Yet on the Needy little Mercy have;
All owe their Blessings to the God of Love,
Yet too too many do unthankful prove.
Some follow Whimsies that do nearly border
Upon Confusion, and despise all Order:
Such on all Sacred Institutions trample,
(Though fortify'd by Precept and Example)
As if 'twere low for an exalted mind
To be, to Gods Declared Will, confin'd;
But can these Men of Rapture make pretence
That they have more Divine Intelligence
Then all th'Illustrious Saints, as Prophets, Priests,
Apostles, Martyrs and Evangelists,
That were the Scribes and Messengers of Heaven,
And strictly practic'd all the Dutys given
Unto the Church, which are without repeal?
But if they're disanul'd, who did reveal
Their Abrogation to these bold Pretenders?
Gods Laws are sound, and need no Cobling-menders.
Upon Confusion, and despise all Order:
Such on all Sacred Institutions trample,
(Though fortify'd by Precept and Example)
As if 'twere low for an exalted mind
To be, to Gods Declared Will, confin'd;
But can these Men of Rapture make pretence
That they have more Divine Intelligence
Then all th'Illustrious Saints, as Prophets, Priests,
Apostles, Martyrs and Evangelists,
That were the Scribes and Messengers of Heaven,
And strictly practic'd all the Dutys given
Unto the Church, which are without repeal?
But if they're disanul'd, who did reveal
Their Abrogation to these bold Pretenders?
Gods Laws are sound, and need no Cobling-menders.
But Oh! that Dismal Evil that's behind
Disturbs my Reason, and distracts my Mind!
It is DIVISION! That unhappy word
Has done more Mischief than a Popish Sword
Could ever do, if that a sweet Communion
(At least of Love) did but compleat our Union.
Why should Licentious Heat, my Children hurry
To those Extreams? must they each other worry
For trivial things? do they not all agree
In Fundamentals of Divinity?
Is there no Room for Love? or must that grace
Among my Children, have no proper place?
Why must one Saint be angry with his Brother
If not so tall as he? or with another,
Because his Face is not so white as his?
Or that his Habit not so gawdy is?
Alas! no Folly can be more absurd,
Nor more exploded in Gods Holy Word.
All should to Gospel-Purity adhere;
But to calumniate, villifie and jeer
All such as are not of their very pitch,
Is Anti-Gospel, and a practice which
The Lord abhors: If Causes of dissent
Evert not Truth, and shake the Fundament
Of True Religion, why such angry brawling?
Such Odious Nick-names? and such vile miscalling?
Who dares intrude into the Judgment-Seat
Of God Almighty? who is only Great,
And only Judgment gives; to him belongs
To pass the Sentence, and to punish wrongs.
Why cannot Christians with each other bear?
Among Apostles some dissentions were;
But did they therefore persecute each other?
These Mortal Conflicts, Brother against Brother,
Destroys our safety, for they set a Gap
Open for Rome, that would us all intrap
In Fatal Snares: their Maxim is, we know,
Divide and Rule; Distract and Overthrow.
Their Crafty Agents do creep in among
Our heedless Parties, and divide the Throng,
That with more Ease they may us all devour,
Destroy our Nation, and subvert our power.
Why therefore do not Protestants agree
As One, against the Common Enemy?
Who waits with bloudy hand, t'involve 'em all,
In one Destruction Epidemical.
Disturbs my Reason, and distracts my Mind!
It is DIVISION! That unhappy word
Has done more Mischief than a Popish Sword
Could ever do, if that a sweet Communion
(At least of Love) did but compleat our Union.
Why should Licentious Heat, my Children hurry
To those Extreams? must they each other worry
For trivial things? do they not all agree
In Fundamentals of Divinity?
31
Among my Children, have no proper place?
Why must one Saint be angry with his Brother
If not so tall as he? or with another,
Because his Face is not so white as his?
Or that his Habit not so gawdy is?
Alas! no Folly can be more absurd,
Nor more exploded in Gods Holy Word.
All should to Gospel-Purity adhere;
But to calumniate, villifie and jeer
All such as are not of their very pitch,
Is Anti-Gospel, and a practice which
The Lord abhors: If Causes of dissent
Evert not Truth, and shake the Fundament
Of True Religion, why such angry brawling?
Such Odious Nick-names? and such vile miscalling?
Who dares intrude into the Judgment-Seat
Of God Almighty? who is only Great,
And only Judgment gives; to him belongs
To pass the Sentence, and to punish wrongs.
Why cannot Christians with each other bear?
Among Apostles some dissentions were;
But did they therefore persecute each other?
These Mortal Conflicts, Brother against Brother,
Destroys our safety, for they set a Gap
Open for Rome, that would us all intrap
In Fatal Snares: their Maxim is, we know,
Divide and Rule; Distract and Overthrow.
Their Crafty Agents do creep in among
Our heedless Parties, and divide the Throng,
32
Destroy our Nation, and subvert our power.
Why therefore do not Protestants agree
As One, against the Common Enemy?
Who waits with bloudy hand, t'involve 'em all,
In one Destruction Epidemical.
Sion's Children.
Ah Mother! who can remedy your grief?
For this Disease admits of no relief.
Sion.
Of
no relief? O then my Heart must break!
Unless my Sons, their Mothers Counsel take;
Which will those fatal flaming heats allay,
Obstruct their Growth, and take 'em clear away.
O can a Mothers Tears and woful Crys
Be dis-regarded in her Childrens Eyes?
Can English Protestants, who do profess
To serve one God in Truth and Holiness,
Slight all my Wishes, and Requests despise?
O! Hearken to my Counsel, and be Wise.
Let Wrathful Pride, and foolish Self-conceit
Let Quibbles and Sophistical deceit
Be quite exploded? let a cool Debate
All Fundamentals of Religion state:
In such you all, will certainly agree;
(O happy Model of sweet Unity!)
Let none that to those Principles do stick,
Be branded with the name of Heretick;
It glads my heart to hear 'em call each other
By that sweet Title of a Christian Brother.
Unless my Sons, their Mothers Counsel take;
Which will those fatal flaming heats allay,
Obstruct their Growth, and take 'em clear away.
O can a Mothers Tears and woful Crys
Be dis-regarded in her Childrens Eyes?
Can English Protestants, who do profess
To serve one God in Truth and Holiness,
Slight all my Wishes, and Requests despise?
O! Hearken to my Counsel, and be Wise.
Let Wrathful Pride, and foolish Self-conceit
Let Quibbles and Sophistical deceit
Be quite exploded? let a cool Debate
All Fundamentals of Religion state:
33
(O happy Model of sweet Unity!)
Let none that to those Principles do stick,
Be branded with the name of Heretick;
It glads my heart to hear 'em call each other
By that sweet Title of a Christian Brother.
Next if you would not Charity explode,
Abuse the guiltless, and affront your God,
Judge not your Brethren at a distance, neither
Give easie Credit to the Tales of either
Hot-headed Scriblers, or licentious tongues,
That often load the innocent with Wrongs:
So Hellish Monks did serve Waldensian Saints
With horrid clamour, and unjust complaints:
So Popish Impudence spews out its Gall
To make us odious, and bespatter all
The Reformation; sure that cause is bad
Whose chief support from Railing must be had.
If giddy rumour, or uncertain fame
Should raise a Slander on your Brothers Name,
Repair to him, and in Converse you'll see
Whether he guilty, or not guilty be:
If he be faulty, tell him of his sin;
Be mild and secret, and you may him win.
Admonish gently, let your whole discourse
Be full of savour, love and Scripture-force.
This is the way to bring him to a sence,
And Gods prescribed Method to convince;
But if you fail, then leave him to his God,
Who can reform, or punish with a Rod.
Your Work is done, you have discharg'd the part
Of Friend, of Brother, of a Christian heart.
Before Belief, examine what is vented,
Good Men by Malice may be represented
In Monstrous Shapes: Some that to God are dear,
Hatred will paint like a mishapen Bear;
Believe not therefore distant imputation?
No Censure's Just, before Examination.
Abuse the guiltless, and affront your God,
Judge not your Brethren at a distance, neither
Give easie Credit to the Tales of either
Hot-headed Scriblers, or licentious tongues,
That often load the innocent with Wrongs:
So Hellish Monks did serve Waldensian Saints
With horrid clamour, and unjust complaints:
So Popish Impudence spews out its Gall
To make us odious, and bespatter all
The Reformation; sure that cause is bad
Whose chief support from Railing must be had.
If giddy rumour, or uncertain fame
Should raise a Slander on your Brothers Name,
Repair to him, and in Converse you'll see
Whether he guilty, or not guilty be:
If he be faulty, tell him of his sin;
Be mild and secret, and you may him win.
Admonish gently, let your whole discourse
Be full of savour, love and Scripture-force.
This is the way to bring him to a sence,
And Gods prescribed Method to convince;
But if you fail, then leave him to his God,
Who can reform, or punish with a Rod.
34
Of Friend, of Brother, of a Christian heart.
Before Belief, examine what is vented,
Good Men by Malice may be represented
In Monstrous Shapes: Some that to God are dear,
Hatred will paint like a mishapen Bear;
Believe not therefore distant imputation?
No Censure's Just, before Examination.
In all Debates be sure to lay aside
All prejudice, and let the Scriptures guide
Your calm, sedate Disputes, let Truth be scann'd
With cool Resolves: O! let that great Command
Of Love take place! for that should moderate
All Eager Sallies in a warm Debate.
Who loses Error, truly gains the Field;
And he is Victor, that to Truth does yield.
Where e're you find it, though in mean array,
Subscribe, and win the Glory of the Day.
O! what's the World, but Shackles to the Mind?
What's Reputation, but a fleeting Wind?
Why should those Bawbles which the Lord abhors,
Become the Sacred Truths Competitors?
Away with all such Rubs, let Truth take place!
And then the Springs of Everlasting Grace
Will drop down Blessings, Unity, Increase,
Among my Children, as the fruits of Peace.
All prejudice, and let the Scriptures guide
Your calm, sedate Disputes, let Truth be scann'd
With cool Resolves: O! let that great Command
Of Love take place! for that should moderate
All Eager Sallies in a warm Debate.
Who loses Error, truly gains the Field;
And he is Victor, that to Truth does yield.
Where e're you find it, though in mean array,
Subscribe, and win the Glory of the Day.
O! what's the World, but Shackles to the Mind?
What's Reputation, but a fleeting Wind?
Why should those Bawbles which the Lord abhors,
Become the Sacred Truths Competitors?
Away with all such Rubs, let Truth take place!
And then the Springs of Everlasting Grace
Will drop down Blessings, Unity, Increase,
Among my Children, as the fruits of Peace.
35
Our Common Danger, and the Real Sence
(Which we have got by dear Experience)
Of those Advantages, our cruel Foe
Gets by our Factions, will unite us so,
As that our Enemys shall ne're prevail
To break our League, or make our Courage fail:
But tell, Dear Mother, has some new affright
So dis-compos'd you, that you fear our Light
Is near Extinction? tell your Sons, we pray,
What are the Symptoms of th'expiring Day.
Why do you judge, that England's Day of Grace
Draws to an Evening, and declines apace?
Shew some Prognosticks of that dismal Night,
That threatens to succeed our Gospel-Light.
Sion.
When
Sol once touches our Meridian Line,
It straight descends, does by degrees decline;
Its heat grows less, its dis-appearing Light
Yields to the Sable of approaching Night:
Just so the Gospel in its Altitude,
Once shot such Beams, that in this Isle ensu'd
So great Conversion, that those former Days
Did feel its blest and universal Rays.
A General Heat did warm this Happy Nation,
From its benign and pow'rful Operation:
But now it falls! and from our Horizon
Its vig'rous influence is almost gone.
Thousands of Sermons lately have been preacht,
But very few (if any) sinners reacht.
How ineffectual is the quick'ning word!
It shines, but warms not; its but like a Sword
That's fair to sight, but has no Edge at all;
Few prick'd at heart! and scarce do any fall
At Jesus feet! or have a sence of Sin,
Confessing how rebellious they have bin!
It is a dismal and apparent Sign
That Night comes on, when Phœbus does decline,
When Heat and Fervour fail, our Hemisphere
Will quickly see its glory disappear.
The Ev'ning of the Nat'ral Day is come,
When Harvest-Work-men are repairing home:
So when quick Summons of Omnipotence,
Removes the Dressers of his Vineyard hence,
We may (conclude the Gospel-Morning past,
Because Gods Servants disappear so fast.
Can I, when Gap-defenders fall asleep,
But like old Isr'el, for my Prophets weep?
How can the naked and unguarded Flock,
Sustain the Brunt of an invading Shock?
When of its Shepherds it is thus bereft,
When scarce a Moses, or a Joshua's left,
How many active Guides, most dearly lov'd
By Me, have been in little time remov'd;
Scarce can I dry mine Eies for loss of one,
But News arrive of many others gone:
If that my Head were Waters, and each Eie
A Well of Tears, I could distil 'em dry.
Bright Lamps extinguish't! and no other Lights
Appear to chace the horrour of our Nights!
Shook by concussions of my Foes I stand,
Whilst few are rais'd to hold my trembling hand!
If thus my Horsemen, and Commanders dye,
What will become of the poor Infantry?
Who can support the burden of the Day,
When such brave Hero's daily drop away?
Is Summer past, or is the Harvest done?
That such presages of a Storm come on!
Sure God (as Monarchs do) intendeth Wars,
When he recalls his choice Embassadors.
Ah too licentious World! come, look about,
Before the Lord, the bloudy Flag puts out:
When God from Sodom, righteous Lot did call,
Sulphureous Flashes did consume them all.
It straight descends, does by degrees decline;
Its heat grows less, its dis-appearing Light
Yields to the Sable of approaching Night:
Just so the Gospel in its Altitude,
Once shot such Beams, that in this Isle ensu'd
So great Conversion, that those former Days
Did feel its blest and universal Rays.
36
From its benign and pow'rful Operation:
But now it falls! and from our Horizon
Its vig'rous influence is almost gone.
Thousands of Sermons lately have been preacht,
But very few (if any) sinners reacht.
How ineffectual is the quick'ning word!
It shines, but warms not; its but like a Sword
That's fair to sight, but has no Edge at all;
Few prick'd at heart! and scarce do any fall
At Jesus feet! or have a sence of Sin,
Confessing how rebellious they have bin!
It is a dismal and apparent Sign
That Night comes on, when Phœbus does decline,
When Heat and Fervour fail, our Hemisphere
Will quickly see its glory disappear.
The Ev'ning of the Nat'ral Day is come,
When Harvest-Work-men are repairing home:
So when quick Summons of Omnipotence,
Removes the Dressers of his Vineyard hence,
We may (conclude the Gospel-Morning past,
Because Gods Servants disappear so fast.
Can I, when Gap-defenders fall asleep,
But like old Isr'el, for my Prophets weep?
How can the naked and unguarded Flock,
Sustain the Brunt of an invading Shock?
When of its Shepherds it is thus bereft,
When scarce a Moses, or a Joshua's left,
How many active Guides, most dearly lov'd
By Me, have been in little time remov'd;
37
But News arrive of many others gone:
If that my Head were Waters, and each Eie
A Well of Tears, I could distil 'em dry.
Bright Lamps extinguish't! and no other Lights
Appear to chace the horrour of our Nights!
Shook by concussions of my Foes I stand,
Whilst few are rais'd to hold my trembling hand!
If thus my Horsemen, and Commanders dye,
What will become of the poor Infantry?
Who can support the burden of the Day,
When such brave Hero's daily drop away?
Is Summer past, or is the Harvest done?
That such presages of a Storm come on!
Sure God (as Monarchs do) intendeth Wars,
When he recalls his choice Embassadors.
Ah too licentious World! come, look about,
Before the Lord, the bloudy Flag puts out:
When God from Sodom, righteous Lot did call,
Sulphureous Flashes did consume them all.
Another ground of my prevailing fear
That England's black Catastrophe is near,
Is that, as in the Closure of the Day,
The Evening Wolves do range abroad to Prey:
So Romish Beasts in monstrous Swarms do peep
From their black Caverns, to destroy my Sheep:
Such hate the tell-tale-light, and therefore hide
Themselves in Dens, until the Ev'ning-tide.
Their cursed products are resolves of Night,
Like silent Currs, that in the dark do bite.
That England's black Catastrophe is near,
Is that, as in the Closure of the Day,
The Evening Wolves do range abroad to Prey:
So Romish Beasts in monstrous Swarms do peep
From their black Caverns, to destroy my Sheep:
Such hate the tell-tale-light, and therefore hide
Themselves in Dens, until the Ev'ning-tide.
Their cursed products are resolves of Night,
Like silent Currs, that in the dark do bite.
38
Another Symptom of the days declension,
Is when the Shadows do increase dimension:
So when I look about, I plainly see
Our Ev'ning shadows very long to be.
In Humane Bodys when the Head grows Hoary,
It notes decay of Vigor, Strength and Glory.
Gray hairs are thick upon our Ephraim's Head,
His Strength decays, his Face is withered.
When joynts grow palsy'd, & the Blood's congeal'd
Into a Jelly, can the Man be heal'd?
When limbs grow stiff, and feeble Age does plow
Its wrinkled furrows on the Patients brow;
When heat gives place to a benumming cold,
When doting Fancy cares not to be told
Of its approaches to a certain Grave;
When it rejects the Physick that would save,
The Case is desperate, for the Patient's just
Upon the Point to be intomb'd in Dust:
E'en so (Alas!) this Gasping Nation lies
Under the pressure of sad Maladies!
'Tis sick at heart, yet seems averse to take
That sacred Physick, whose Ingredients make
Diseases vanish, and would ward the Blow
Which will, (I fear) produce its overthrow.
Ah! must our Glory (like a brittle Glass
Reduc'd to Fractions) into Atomes pass!
So Rude a Chaos! an unform'd confusion!
Threatning the whole with utter dissolution.
Is when the Shadows do increase dimension:
So when I look about, I plainly see
Our Ev'ning shadows very long to be.
In Humane Bodys when the Head grows Hoary,
It notes decay of Vigor, Strength and Glory.
Gray hairs are thick upon our Ephraim's Head,
His Strength decays, his Face is withered.
When joynts grow palsy'd, & the Blood's congeal'd
Into a Jelly, can the Man be heal'd?
When limbs grow stiff, and feeble Age does plow
Its wrinkled furrows on the Patients brow;
When heat gives place to a benumming cold,
When doting Fancy cares not to be told
Of its approaches to a certain Grave;
When it rejects the Physick that would save,
The Case is desperate, for the Patient's just
Upon the Point to be intomb'd in Dust:
E'en so (Alas!) this Gasping Nation lies
Under the pressure of sad Maladies!
'Tis sick at heart, yet seems averse to take
That sacred Physick, whose Ingredients make
Diseases vanish, and would ward the Blow
Which will, (I fear) produce its overthrow.
Ah! must our Glory (like a brittle Glass
Reduc'd to Fractions) into Atomes pass!
So Rude a Chaos! an unform'd confusion!
Threatning the whole with utter dissolution.
Once Happy Isle, I grieve at thy condition:
Where's thy Repentance? where is thy Contrition?
Thou hast been counted our Emanuel's Land,
The Gospel seems on Tip-toe now to stand,
To bid thee farewel: Must thy Sun so soon
Be sett! before it did approach to Noon!
Must that Illustrious Morning-light be gone,
That spread its Beams through all our Horizon?
Must wretched Malice, and prodigious Lust,
Must bare-fac'd Pride, and impudent Distrust,
Rob thee of this inestimable Jewel?
How canst thou be so pittiless, so cruel
Unto thy self? Sin is the flaming dart
That cuts thy Veins, and wounds thy very heart.
Where's thy Repentance? where is thy Contrition?
39
The Gospel seems on Tip-toe now to stand,
To bid thee farewel: Must thy Sun so soon
Be sett! before it did approach to Noon!
Must that Illustrious Morning-light be gone,
That spread its Beams through all our Horizon?
Must wretched Malice, and prodigious Lust,
Must bare-fac'd Pride, and impudent Distrust,
Rob thee of this inestimable Jewel?
How canst thou be so pittiless, so cruel
Unto thy self? Sin is the flaming dart
That cuts thy Veins, and wounds thy very heart.
Can Sion chuse but send out mournful Crys?
And weep thy Downfal in sad Elegies?
Within thy Bounds my Tabernacles were
Built up, and I did long inhabit here.
Thy Gospel-glory, and Renown's gone forth
Into all Parts and Corners of the Earth.
Thou mayst be justly stil'd the place of Vision?
(Though made by Foes an Object of Derision)
The Joy of Saints, the Protestant's Delight,
The Mark and Butt of Antichristian spite.
But if the Crown be ravisht from thy Head,
And Romish Clouds thy Lustre overspread;
What heart so brawny, but thy doleful Cry
Must move to pity? what relentless Eye,
Can see thy fall, and not dissolve to drops?
O fleeting Joys! O dis-appearing hopes!
O hastning horrour! O invading fears!
Had I a Sea of never-empty'd tears,
My boundless, helpless grief wide open sets
The Sluces for its streaming Rivulets.
The very Air, drest in Prodigious Forms,
Must groan in Thunder and must weep in Storms.
Nature, of strong Convulsions sickned is,
To see this horrid Metamorphosis!
Where Gospel Pastors did some Millions feed,
Must blind and sottish ignorance succeed?
Must all their Throats be cut that won't adore
The hateful Carcass of a Rotten Whore?
Must all that execrate Rome's Superstition,
Be Murder'd by a bloudy Inquisition?
Must such as won't to Idols bow, be broke?
Must flaming Smithfield, belch out Fire and Smoke
Of Martyr'd Saints? must all that will not turn
(With Bibles and good Books) together burn?
Must Monkish Torys, meer Incarnate Devils,
Possess our Land, and pester it with Evils,
Of such an odious and abhorred Grain,
That but to name 'em is a lasting Stain?
Must our Renowned Ministers give place
To Romish Block-heads? O the vile disgrace
Of such a Change! Must an adult'rous Priest
Belch out his Mass, where they have preached Christ?
Must that absurd and irreligious Tribe
Who fetter Conscience, and regard a Bribe
Beyond their Souls, be Leaders to our Flocks?
Must paultry Non-sence, and those Apish Mocks,
Mis-call'd Devotion, fill the House of Prayer?
Must Pestilence infect our purer Air?
Must Sodom be translated to our Isle,
And filthy Priests our chastity defile?
Must Satans Factors in a humane shape,
On modest Virgins perpetrate a Rape?
Must all our painful Ministers be driven
To fiery Stakes, if they renounce not Heaven?
Must our dear Infants lose their harmless lives
In flaming Faggots, or with Popish Knives?
Must guiltless bloud through all our Streets rebound
A mournful Echo? must the horrid sound
Of Axes, Whips, and dreadful Scourges tear
Our aking hearts, and pierce the yielding Air!
All this will be, if Rome can but prevail!
Amazement stops my Speech! my Spirits fail!
I only can in Interjections cry,
I sink in Trances! O! I dy, I dy!
And weep thy Downfal in sad Elegies?
Within thy Bounds my Tabernacles were
Built up, and I did long inhabit here.
Thy Gospel-glory, and Renown's gone forth
Into all Parts and Corners of the Earth.
Thou mayst be justly stil'd the place of Vision?
(Though made by Foes an Object of Derision)
The Joy of Saints, the Protestant's Delight,
The Mark and Butt of Antichristian spite.
But if the Crown be ravisht from thy Head,
And Romish Clouds thy Lustre overspread;
What heart so brawny, but thy doleful Cry
Must move to pity? what relentless Eye,
Can see thy fall, and not dissolve to drops?
O fleeting Joys! O dis-appearing hopes!
O hastning horrour! O invading fears!
Had I a Sea of never-empty'd tears,
40
The Sluces for its streaming Rivulets.
The very Air, drest in Prodigious Forms,
Must groan in Thunder and must weep in Storms.
Nature, of strong Convulsions sickned is,
To see this horrid Metamorphosis!
Where Gospel Pastors did some Millions feed,
Must blind and sottish ignorance succeed?
Must all their Throats be cut that won't adore
The hateful Carcass of a Rotten Whore?
Must all that execrate Rome's Superstition,
Be Murder'd by a bloudy Inquisition?
Must such as won't to Idols bow, be broke?
Must flaming Smithfield, belch out Fire and Smoke
Of Martyr'd Saints? must all that will not turn
(With Bibles and good Books) together burn?
Must Monkish Torys, meer Incarnate Devils,
Possess our Land, and pester it with Evils,
Of such an odious and abhorred Grain,
That but to name 'em is a lasting Stain?
Must our Renowned Ministers give place
To Romish Block-heads? O the vile disgrace
Of such a Change! Must an adult'rous Priest
Belch out his Mass, where they have preached Christ?
Must that absurd and irreligious Tribe
Who fetter Conscience, and regard a Bribe
Beyond their Souls, be Leaders to our Flocks?
Must paultry Non-sence, and those Apish Mocks,
Mis-call'd Devotion, fill the House of Prayer?
Must Pestilence infect our purer Air?
41
And filthy Priests our chastity defile?
Must Satans Factors in a humane shape,
On modest Virgins perpetrate a Rape?
Must all our painful Ministers be driven
To fiery Stakes, if they renounce not Heaven?
Must our dear Infants lose their harmless lives
In flaming Faggots, or with Popish Knives?
Must guiltless bloud through all our Streets rebound
A mournful Echo? must the horrid sound
Of Axes, Whips, and dreadful Scourges tear
Our aking hearts, and pierce the yielding Air!
All this will be, if Rome can but prevail!
Amazement stops my Speech! my Spirits fail!
I only can in Interjections cry,
I sink in Trances! O! I dy, I dy!
Sion's Children.
Ah! how can we with any Patience bear
This sad Complaint? Can any Children hear
Their Mother delug'd in a Sea of Grief,
And not step in to give her some relief!
Chear up, Illustrious Spouse, and be not cast
Into despair, by this approaching blast:
Christ is our Captain, then we may be bold,
In all our storms, he is our Anchor-hold.
But what's this Beast, of whom thou dost complain?
Whence came he first? and of what date's his Reign?
42
Repel his Pride, and quickly overthrow him
With Universal and United Force,
Our Armed Legions shall impede his Course.
If God Commands (who do's the Scepter wield)
Wee'll fight his Battels, and dispute his Field.
In Martial Syllogisms our Arms shall speak:
Wee'll storm his Wall, and make his Pillars quake.
A raging Anger in our Bosom burns,
Patience provok't too much, to Fury turns.
Sion.
This
Beast above
twelve hundred years has bin
My Mortal Foe, he's call'd The Man of Sin,
This introducer of blind Superstition,
Is stil'd in Holy Writ, Son of Perdition.
From Hells Abyss, at first he did procced,
As in the Revelations you may read:
'Tis he whom Daniel calls the little Horn,
By whom three more up by the Roots were torn.
My Mortal Foe, he's call'd The Man of Sin,
44
Is stil'd in Holy Writ, Son of Perdition.
From Hells Abyss, at first he did procced,
As in the Revelations you may read:
'Tis he whom Daniel calls the little Horn,
By whom three more up by the Roots were torn.
The most diligent and industrious Searchers into the Epocha, or Beginning of Antichrist. as the learned Mede, Alstedius, Mr. T. L. in his Book intituled A Voice out of the Wilderness, Mr. Brightman, Tillinghast, with several other Eminent Men, seem harmoniously to agree that the Beast began his forty two Months, or one thousand two hundred and sixty (Prophetical) Days or Years, between the years 365. and 455. and therefore must consequently end in a short time. See Mr. Mede, page 600, & 601. To confirm which, the witness of the best Chronologers, Historians and Antiquaries concur; as also the posture of the Worlds Affairs, the unusual working of things, and the awakening Providences of God; which makes us hope, as Mr. Withers affirms, That that glorious Revolution will be in this present Age. And though famous Du Moulin, and some Others, speak not of the Popes claiming the Title of Universal Bishop, till about the year 604. or 606. when the Traytor Phocas by the help of Boniface the 3d. murdered the Emperour Mauritius, (in requital of which, the Usurper Phocas gave the said Boniface that blasphemous Title, and decreed that the Roman Church should be head of all Churches; Which Platina a Papist, and a Writer of the Popes Lives agrees to as Beda, de 6 Ætat. Mundi, Paul. Diacon. rer. Rom. 18. Histor. Longob. lib. 4. 11. Anast. Bibl. Vit. Bon. 3. Ado. Ætat. 6. Reg. Chron. I. 1. Aimon de gest. Franc. lib. 4. c. 4.) Yet the same Du Moulin seems positively to affirm, that the Persecution of the Church under the Pope, shall have an end in (or about) the Year, 1689. See his Book entituled, The Accomplishment of the Prophecies, Pag. 4. 12. This Term once expired (saith he) the Truth that was opprest shall lift up her head afresh, and the Witnesses shall be seen to stand up again, who shall astonish the Church of Rome, &c.
2 Thes. 2. 3. Man of Sin. ο ανθρωπος την αμαρτι?, is an Hebraism, and imports a person given up to Impiety and Wickedness, as Pro. 24. 5. [HEBREW] vir scientiæ, a Man of knowledge, that is, very knowing, 2 Sam. 16. 8. [HEBREW] vir sanguinum, A Man of Bloud, that is, one arrived at a non ultra of impiety.
ο υιος την απολειας:, Son of Perdition, is also an Hebraism, and denotes, One designed for destruction, as a hopeless and graceless wretch. Chrysost. on 2. Thes. Hom. 3. tells us, he is called so because he shall be destroyed Piscator and Erasmus think it may be expounded, one desperate, and past all hope of Honesty—the perfect Copy of his Original Judas, who is called the Son of Perdition, John 17. 12. for he seemed an Angel, yet was a Devil—he was no Heathen, quitted Judaism, followed Christ, was an Apostle, seemed to pity the Poor, pretended great affection to his Master, yet betrays him with a Kiss, lov'd the Bag, hatcht a Villany able to rend the Rocks, and make the Earth quake—In which let all impartial men consider whether the Romish Antichrist does not exactly parallel him,
| Sion in distress | |