EXperience tells us, those that are in pain
Need neither
Act nor
Ord'naence to complain:
Griefs have their priviledg, whose passions break
All Laws,
and Losers claim a power to speak.
If passion be too rude
(Reader) excuse;
Grief knows no manners, sorrow needs no Muse:
But stay my hasty quill, forbear, I know
Thou art too young, too tender yet to go
Without a guide, a guide that may direct
Thy staggering feet; A guide that may protect
Thy Infant years. Do not too much endeavor;
A fall at first will make thee lame for ever.
Invoke the
Nine, and if they do deny
To give thee ayd, complain to
Mercury:
Tell him, thou art a
babe, and dost desire
To warm thy
genius by the Muses
fire:
Where are
Apollo's off-springs? are they ty'd
In sorrows chains, e're since
Mecaenas dy'd?
Or are their
Helleconian waters spent?
Or do they stay t'expect a Complement?
I wonder what they mean, to be thus slow,
In former times they'd run, they'l now scarce go:
[Page 2]My heedless
Muse, dost thou not understand
They're all distracted and dispers'd the Land?
Only
Melpomene, who now appears
Like
Nioby, a monument of tears.
Knowst thou not this (rash Muse) then how canst thou
Implore a help from them that know not how
To help themselves? Nay
Pegasus is made
A poor
Dragoon; his friends are all betraid:
Though all distracted, and thus routed be,
Yet, helpless Muse, there's Heav'n to succour thee:
Then hear me
Heaven, O hear me, now I sue,
Th' art my
Apollo, be
Mecaenas too,
And great Conductor of my Soul, inspire
My frozen heart with thy celestial fire:
Light thou my Candle, O then I shall see,
By thy own light, how to discover thee;
Inflame my
frozen senses with thy Spirit,
That I may learn to live, and live t'inherit
The glory of thy Kingdom, and to rest
Where joys are greater then can be exprest:
And so go on; but stay, rash quill, and know
What 'tis to be engag'd, before you go
Too far; Be careful these bad times, unless
Your rash adventure want a good success:
Be wary what you do; these are no times
To please fond fancies with
lascivious Rhymes.
Be circumspect; Let every word you write
Be Truth, and then let every word invite
A
tear; each
tear, a
sigh; that every
Eye,
That reads, may melt into an
Elegie.
[Page 3]And curs'd be that dull eye, that will not lend
A tear, or two, to see poor
England spend
Weeks, months, &
years, in sighs, in sobs, in groans,
In tears, in pray'rs, and wilt not move the stones?
Vollies of tears, discharged from her eyes,
Shake Heaven and Earth, and penetrate the skies
With sad cōplain
[...]? heav'n mourns at her condition
And weeps down showrs of tears at her Peti
[...]ion:
Then rouze, ye
Britains, from your flattering sleep,
Hear
Englands groans, thus she begins to weep;
No
Peace, no
ease, no
pleasure; is all gone,
Pursu'd with
envy and
rebellion?
Whither, oh whither, are my glories sent?
Banisht my brest by Act of
Parliament?
Vertue is fled, and scar'd into a trance
By the ill shape of Bughear
ignorance
What mists are these that thus eclipse the light
Of
splend
[...]nt truths? From whence proceeds this night
Of
darkening Errors? how am I begul'd
Of all my
joys? Nay, how am I defil'd
With
leprous humors? On how grief transports
My frightned sense! what envy's this resorts
Unto my swelling brest? Is there no mean,
No pleasing Musick to divide my scean?
Were I an
Atlas, I could not sustain
This Firmament of grief: who can refrain
From falling, that's so much opprest as I
With such a burthen of
Malignity.
Where shall I run, to whom shall I address
My burthened self, or how shall I express
[Page 4]My uncontrouled sorrows, or relate
Th' unhappy discord of my
factious State?
Where shall I fly? Is there no
Ark above
To hide me from these
waves? Is there no
Dove
To bring me tydings that the Land is clear,
And that the hills of
Peace do re-appear?
But must I perish? shall the waves of
pride
Dash me in pieces? still a flowing tyde,
Still flow, and never ebb! Is there no bliss?
Wonder sad Soul!
O what an Ocean's this
Ambitious winds, why rage ye more and more,
And make the
Seas thus envy at the
shore?
Is there no
Peter can pray Heav'n to please.
To check the
winds, and qualifie the
Seas?
Am I the worst of all? Is my condition
So bad, that there is no
Petition
Can have an audience? Ah my conscience saith,
I've
Peters fears, but yet want
Peters faith.
Here let us stop a little, and advise
With flesh and blood; Can greater wants arise,
To damage Souls, then
faith, whose want procures
All these extreams, which my poor heart endures?
Oh no, there cannot: he that wants the hand
Of
Soul-supporting Faith, forgets to stand:
This is my want, and till I find relief,
I'le lie and tumble in the shades of grief,
And glut the ayr with sighs; my hideous cries
Shall roar like thunder in the troubled skies:
O that my
eyes were
Oceans, that I may
Drown all my sorrows in one stormy day;
[Page 5]Or would pleas'd
Heaven, enable me to strain,
To gulp up
Seas, and weep them out again,
Then should my briny streams gush forth so fast,
That every tear should strive to be the last;
So the swift current of my swelling eyes
Should overflow my heap'd up miseries.
I have offended Heaven, and now I see
My sins are walls betwixt my God and me,
Which stop the passage of my fervent prayers,
That there is no prevailing but by tears,
To batter down the wall that thus prevents
My cries, my vows, and hinders my intents
To Heav'n, that Heav'n can send me no relief,
Nor take me from this
labyrinth of grief.
Gone are my golden, my forgotten days,
When every bird could whistle forth my praise.
Gone are those days when this consuming Earth
Was stuffd with pleasure, & perfum'd with mirth:
Though all be gone, yet will I strive t'endure;
He that hath made the wound, can make the cure:
For now I'm wounded, and my wounds do smart
Beyond my patience; and my tender heart,
Swell'd up with sorrow, doth predestinate
What woe must happen to my bleeding State:
My
head, my head's tormented; and my
eyes
Are dim with gazing after vanities:
My
members swell like Oceans, and from thence
Proceeds so great, so large a confluence
Of noisom humors, and they run so thick,
That they surcharge, and make my stomack sick:
[Page 6]I ave purg'd alr
[...]ady, and that will not do,
I fear, I fear, that I must vomit too:
I doubt 'tis too much
action that hath bred
These ill diseases that disturb my
[...]ead;
Oh I am sick to death, my bowels yern!
I fre
[...]z I fr
[...]z▪ and whilest I fre
[...]z, I burn;
I burn, I melt, my soul is parch'd within.
(How hot's the furnace of tormenting sin?)
And Ah! how soon is feebled nature lam'd
With ioynt contracting cold; if not inflam'd
By heavens enlivening fire? how hot's my blood
To what is
bad, and Ah, how cold to
good!
Oh grief! how two extreams perplex one heart,
So link'd together, that they cannot part!
Thus am I tost, and doubtfully opprest
Beneath the burden of a dubious brest?
Nothing but Wars, and Tumults do arise;
Thrice hapyy I▪ had I known how to prize
My happiness? Alas I ne're did know
The good of peace, till Heav'n was pleasd to show:
War makes me know, what joy it was before
To live in peace and plenty, now the more.
To live in peace and plenty, now I know by this,
This want of peace, what a combining bliss
It was to live united, and to praise
That God of Peace, that blest my peaceful days
With large increase; Oh misery to think,
Loaded with too much pleasure, how I sink!
I that was wont to boast my heaps of treasure,
Now swim in sorrow, and now sink in pleasure:
[Page 7]I that the world did envy, now am brought
To be not worth the env'ing, worse then nought,
Revil'd by all; see how the hand of Fate
hath pleas'd to make me thus unfortunate:
What shall I do? what
physick can procure
A little ease? I cannot long endure.
Where are my grave
Divines to give advice
To a relapsing Soul? are they grown nice
Of late? Are their conspiring hearts agreed
T'absent themselves in this my time of need?
What do they mean? Oh whither are they fled?
Sure, sure, they're
silenc'd all, or else all
death:
Do they not see me falling? Do they stand
Amaz'd, not daring to afford a hand
To help me up? Methinks I hear them cry,
That they are falling to, as well as I.
Where is
Religion, that was wont to be
The
Governor of
Peace, the branched Tree
That ever flourish'd? see, now every
Clown
Being authoriz'd presumes to cut her down.
Will they still strive with
swords, with
guns, with
clubs,
To pickle my Religion up in tubs?
Have they no
Reason? hath their greedy
zeal
Swallow'd up all their Senses at one meal?
Have they agreed that
Piety and
Reason
Shall be
condemn'd, and
voted into
Treason?
Or hath their
hell-bred thoughts found out a way
To turn our
Sion to a
Golgotha?
Hath the
Tartarian Counseller invented
Such thriving Plots which cannot be prevented?
[Page 8]Leave off base Acts
Mechanicks, and begin
To deal uprightly, and reform within;
Bury your
aged crimes, and then go call
Your stragling
senses to the
Funeral:
Adjourn your thoughts, which now are quite contrary
To Peace, and think a
peace is necessary.
Honour your
higher Powers, and do not mock
And vilifie them as your laughing stock.
There are a
brain-sick multitude, a
rabble
Of all
Religions, that do dayly squabble
About
vain shades, and let the
substance pass,
Hating
good manners as they hate the
Mass:
'Tis such as these which thus my
woes advance,
Whose very
Souls are starv'd with
ignorance:
'Tis such as these who dayly strive to smother
The
truth with
flattring zeal, & call him
brother,
Nay
holy brother; though his
faith be small,
If he can
rail, and reverently
baul
Against
grave Bishops, and their
pious King,
Oh this is
holy, nay a
zealous thing:
And those are holy that can pray by chance
According to the Spirits
influence,
And teach their
prick-ear'd brethren to deny
The
Common Prayer, but know no reason why;
And those whose great humility can be
Content to make a Pulpit in a
tree,
Or in some
Barn, there by the Spirit pray
Five or six hours, not caring what they say;
Or if a
Black-smith or a
Tinker can
Hammer out Treason, he's a zealous man
[Page 9]Or if a learned
Cobler will be sure
To stitch it close, oh he's a
Christian pure!
Oh these are holy, yea and
learned Teachers,
These are
Divines, and only these are
Preachers:
They'l cry all learned
Prelats out of season,
They must not preach, for fear they should speak reasō.
Oh these are they, whose ruder tongues can cry,
Advance
Mechanicks, down with
Majesty:
These, these are they, whose dūghill thoughts could never
Attain perfection, but they still endeavor
To banish
wisdom, that at last they may
Make all the world as ignorant as
they.
See how they'ave turn'd my
joy to griping
sadness,
Plenty to
want, and
peace to downright
madness;
Vertue to
vice, and
chastity to
vainness,
Learning to
scorn, Religion to
prophaneness,
Flattry to
zeal, and
non-sence unto
Reason,
Honor to
shame, and
Loyalty to
Treason,
Pity to
Murther, Truth to feigned
lyes,
Prayers to
curses, Plundring to a
prize:
Thus, thus they gripe my
Soul, and go about
To change my shape, and turn my
inside out.
Unhumane Actions;
Ah who can behold
Such
Tyrannies, and not his blood grow cold!
Break, break, ye flood-gates of my brimfil'd
eyes,
And let my tears have passage to surprize
This Fort of sorrow, and tumultuous cares,
And drench the mountains in a Sea of tears.
Forbear, ye lowring
skies; there is no need
Ye should disburse a showre: I have agreed
[Page 10]With sorrow, and his
powers still to remain
Clouded with
grief, and f
[...]ll the Earth with rain;
Oh horrid, dismal, Heav'n provoking
times,
Surpassing
Sodoms; nay
Gomorrah's crimes
Were ne're so bad; Oh
Hell-invent
[...]d fate,
Worse then the worst that I can nominate.
Are these my
people, for whose sakes I lie
Involv'd with
torments, wrapt in
Tyranny?
Are these my
Sons, whose sorrows now I weep?
Are these my
children that are lul'd asleep?
See how secure they rest, and never fear
Approaching
woe; mine eyes, can ye forbear
To vent ten thousand tears? Oh never let
Your lids conceal you, till y'ave paid the debt
Ye owe to sorrow, for those
sins which thirst
For greater plenty, then can be disburst:
Oh sigh, sad
Soul, until thy heart be sore,
Then sigh, because thou canst not sigh no more.
Oh that my voyce, like
thunderclaps could tear,
And split the
portals of each
deafned ear;
That so my cries might ravish every brain,
And fil'd with
horror, make them deaf again.
And this I wish because my
Sons are all
So deaf, they will not hear me when I call:
Did they not flourish in a
peaceful state,
Enjoying store of all things, till of late
They grew thus
factious? and have I not been,
In former times, the worlds admired
Queen?
Have not all
Nations formerly been proud
To do me service? Have they not allow'd
And honored me, if not for
love, for
fear?
And must I now by your, your means incut
As many plagues as mischief can infer?
Must I now
pine away, that have been
strong?
Must I now
stoop, that have stood up so
long?
Must I be now
subordinate to
those
That never dat'd subscribe themselves my
foes?
Must I be now
divided, that was never
Divided yet? Must I be lost forever?
Must I be now
consumed and thrown down?
And must they scoff me now, that dar'd not frown
In former times? Must I be now confounded?
Must I be now revil'd, and cal'd a
Roundhead?
Must I be now nick-nam'd? Must
frighted fame
Sound a Retreat, and scorn to own my name?
Must I be now dispers'd? Must my own hand
Destroy the bounty of my fruitful Land?
Oh grief transcending thought, shall
Englands glory
Be thus abstracted, and thus made a story
To after ages? Would not this perplex
A Soul, that never knew what 'twas to vex?
What grief can equalize my grief? What pain
Can be equivalent? Would any gain
Experience? If they would, may they incline
Themselves to this experienc'd grief of mine:
Ah grief of days; what marble eye can read
Of such extreams as mine, and never bleed?
'Twould dull the sharpest brain to meditate
Upon my grief; nay, make them desperate.
[Page 12]Had
Nero liv'd in this tempestuous age,
He might have blusht to see his boiling rage
Out-vi'd by yours; nay,
Corah and his crew
Never pursu'd their
Moses, as ye do,
With such untutor'd violence; 'tis strange,
Oh whither will your headlong fury range?
Advise by times, and know there is a God
That overlooks you: Know, that
Moses Rod
May turn a
greedy Serpent, and devour,
As well the
greater, as the
smaller power.
Go, go, ye sad contrivers of these times,
Consult with sorrow: think on all those crimes
Ye have committed; and then think what you
Have done, and after what ye have to do.
Advise with care, for your condition's such,
Y'ave much to do, because y'ave done too much.
Too much; Alas too much in my
sad state
Is done already; and I fear too late
For remedy: And secret danger lies
In dull delay: 'tis wisdom to advise
Betimes; for true and timely care prevents
Untimely ruine, hindring the intents
Of studied
malice; industry prepares
A
balm for that which
negligence impairs.
Those that by dreaming sloth, sustain a loss,
Obtain least pity, and the greatest cross.
Consider what a grief 'twill be to see
The sad distraction of this
Monarchie,
Wrought by your slothful negligence, when all
My lofty structures by your hands must fall:
[Page 13]Nay, worse then this, when
famine shall devour
What
fire and
sword hath left; when every hour
The
Bells shall toul, with such a feeble sound,
As if that they themselves a want had found.
Will it not melt a stone to hear the cries
Of
hungry children, and the sad replies
Of their
dejected friends? who can forbear
To think on this, and never shed a tear?
How children cry for bread, and fain would rest,
Seeking protections in their mothers brest?
Alas poor
Orphans, how are they beguil'd,
When the
sad mother's forc'd to eat the
child
For want of food, & make their blood their drink!
Oh what a wounding sorrow 'tis to think
How all will be destroy'd, both
young and
old,
How
warm blood will be mingled with the
cold!
How you will roar and cry for want of
bread,
Some on the ground, some
dying, and some
dead;
Some gnaw their flesh, and some fight who shal eat
Each other;
O uncomfortable meat!
And then the
ravening Wolves seek up and down
To find a prey, in every
starved Town,
Shall eat
deaths reliques; having spent that store,
Shall ransack up and down, and howl for more.
All
beasts and
fowls shall then amazed stand,
To see the
Sea is turn'd into a
Land:
The Land into a Sea, a
Red Sea, where
Nothing but
bones in stead of
fishes are.
Where nothing's heard, but cries, and shrieks, and groans,
Where nothing's seen, except consuming bones.
[Page 14]Oh had you but the power to apprehend
These sad
destructive dangers, how they tend
Da
[...]ly towards us, with all the power that they
Can make, as if they'd rout us in one day:
Dull sons of men, have ye forgot to rise,
And draw the
Curtains of your slumbring eyes?
Methinks this hot
Alarum should affright
Your Souls for ever from your fond delight!
What do ye mean? ye cannot chuse but hear
Heav'ns thundring Judgments ratling in your ear
What, have ye sworn Allegiance to the
Prince
Of utter darknesse? Will no words convince
Your Stubborn Souls? Has a perpetual vow
Been lately past betwixt
Hells Prince and
you?
Why do ye thus delight to overthrow
Your selves, and lose a Kingdom at one blow?
Oh where are my
grand Rulers to correct
These their
enormous humors, that infect
The world with
Errors? To what fatal place
Are all my
Senators retired?
You my Triennial Powers, come and dispose
Your ears to my discourse; and Ile disclose
My grief to you, whose Judgments can prescribe
A timely remedy without a bribe.
Then hark!
THe climing power of my disease is grown
To such a height, that I can hardly own
A minutes rest; my
body politick
You apprehend (I know) is very sick:
[Page 15]Then let the depth of understanding move
The depth of pity, that ye may remove
These growing inconveniences, that moan
For your assistance: Can a Kingdom groan,
And not be heard? Can a disease remain
within my body, and not I complain
O
[...] what I suffer? That were Tyrannie
Not to be paralel'd: O pity me,
And let the fervour of my language turn
Your thoughts to tears, to quench those flames that burn
My wasting intrals: Let your hearts relent
With meditating on my discontent:
Open your willing ears, and hear me call;
O do not fall a slumbring whilest I fall:
O hear me soon, that now complain too late:
Let my complaints make you compassionate;
Dissolve into a Sea of tears. Involve
Your selves with sackcloth. Let your minds revolve
Upon your
native soil; resolve to spend
Your greatest skills, to consummate the end
Of my distractions; and let
mercy joyn
With
justice; so shall endless love combine
Your Souls: That like
Ezekiels wheels ye may
Run one within another, and not stray:
But like
Isaiahs Seraphims may cry,
O holy, holy, holy God on high.
But stay; nor can I end, my griefs must fly
A little further; Mountains that are high
Must be discovered: Molehills often times
Lie out of sight, like undiscovered crimes.
A cure from them, whose more concreted wits
Do dayly study with more active arts
More
publique mischief with more
private hearts.
Doth not the fawning
Crocodile obtain
By publique sorrow her more private gain?
Doth not the crafty
Lapwing cry the least,
When she is nearest to her close-made nest?
Are there not those in this conniving age,
Whose outward meekness is but inward rage?
Are there not those in these contentious times,
That live by nothing but their private crimes?
Oh grief to speak it: Are there not a sort
Of wilful people that can make a sport
At others ruines, whose pretended
zeal
Hath bred much mischief in this
Common-weal?
Are there not those that would pretend to be
Reformers, yet deform a
Monarchie?
Are there not those, whose
upstart honors crave
Perpetual durance, only to enslave
The
Sons of Honor? Thus they play the thief,
And joy in nothing, but in others grief.
Are there not those, who in one breath can cry
Against a
Lyar, yet can forge a
lye
for their advantage, and abjure the
Laws?
Lyes are no
lyes, if they advance their
Cause.
Are there not those that persecute the
Arts,
And yet retain
Monopolizing hearts?
Are there not those that dayly take delight
To twist themselves into anothers
right?
[Page 17]Do not all
these, which I have nam'd, pretend
To do all this, to a
religious end?
And ah Religion! how art thou betray'd
By those, whose worthless industry have layd
Thine
honor in the dust; nay, and have thrown
Dirt in their faces, that shall dare to own
Thy very name? these are a sort of people
That love no Church, because they hate the steeple.
I dare affirm, that
Proteus ne'er could be
So much transform'd, as they have transform'd thee:
Nor can I yet conclude; I must deplore
My greater sorrows, yet a little more:
Let no man take exceptions, for I speak
Unto my self;
sorrow must finde a leak.
I cannot hold; and O that I were able
To make my feeble tongue infatigable,
That by my full expressions I may prove
How much the
Serpent over-rules the
Dove.
There was a time (not long since) when my
fits
Had found as expiation, if those
wits
(Which prov'd too serpentine) had not delayd
Their too-soon violated vows, and playd
A double game: I even blush to name
What odds they had, and how they lost the game▪
The world (though sad) is not so melancholly,
But that it smiles at, and records that folly:
The breach of vows cracks honor, and the loss
Of opportunity deserves a cross
[...]n honors book; and he that shall neglect
A publique good, shall finde a bad respect
[Page 18]In private hearts, and
ruine must attend
A publique Actor, for a private end.
Are there not those hate
Rome, and yet make roo
[...]
For
Catiline, and labor to entomb
His vile
prescriptions in their Romish thoughts,
And yet excuse
themselves, and
him, from faults
Do
I not see them how they run his
paths
With head-long force, and prosecute his
Laws?
Do
I not see their
Agents, how they strive
To ruine
others, and to keep alive
Themselves, that liv'd not, till this
greedy age
Rak'd them from
dunghils, to adorn the
Stage
Of Hell-bred Tyranny? Do I not see
How much they'r honor'd for their
Tyranny?
The
Salamander, when he's crown'd with
[...]i
[...]
Is in his Kingdom; if his Crown expire,
His life concludes: Tell me what then remains
Except the reliques of consuming flames?
Even so the
Salamanders of these days
(Whose hearts are made of flames) at last will blaz
And smother into
ashes: Thus declin'd,
What can they leave (except a stink) behinde?
Each thing must live within its
element;
Discretion tells us, fishes must content
Themselves with water; and all things must live
Content with that which Heav'n was pleas'd to giv
[...]
'Tis onely
man that surfeits with desire:
The
earth, the
ayr, the
water, quickning
fire,
And all was made for
man, and
man was made
Of all these things: O let it not be said,
[Page 19]That
fire predominates, and breeds contest
Within my bowels, and destroys the rest▪
O strive, now your
unruly flames arise,
To quench your hearts with
water from
your eyes:
Strive not with
Catiline, that lavish creature,
To stop
great mischiefs, by
enacting greater.
But tell me now, how can your thoughts reflect
Upon a
Peace, when as ye dis-respect
The
principle? 'tis an uncertain way
To gain a
Peace by
Arms; for every day
Will breed new
tumults, which will in conclusion
Inviron you with Armies of confusion:
Peace cannot swim in
blood, blood cannot stand
Like
pools of water in a
peaceful Land.
Delight not thus in contraries; forsake
Your former ways, let not your hearts partake
Of
blood, and
raine, Heav'n will never own
A
blood-bedab'led Soul: 'Tis not unknown
How ye have belch'd out
oaths, & vow'd to bring
Peace to your
Country, honor to your
King:
Now wher's your
Countries peace? now wher's the
glory
Your
King was promis'd?
O nefandous story!
Can
peace and
strife cohabitate? Can
fame
And
glory be imprison'd? 'Tis your shame,
Not
his dishonor, that ye perpetrate
Such
horrid acts: I tremble to relate
What I have suffer'd: Is't not
you that have
Exploded all my
comforts? You that crave
(Like
greedy Cormorants) still
more and
more,
Pretending
charity, yet starve the
poor?
[Page 20]Was it not you, whose active hands provided
To pull down
Crosses, that have thus divided
My yeelding people? Can ye now pull down
These Crosses ye have builded? You that crown
Your hearts with
malice, will you always stand
In opposition? will you still command
In spight of Fortune? will ye always be
Majestique too, in spight of
Majestie?
I may affirm, that never
Nation had
So good a King, whose Subjects are so bad.
Do ye not see how Heav'n hath pleas'd to smile
Upon his Soul, and bless him all this while
With long-continued patience? It is he
Whose life hath given life to Pietie.
He is a second
Job, whose patience can
Outvy the base indignities of man:
Go ransack
Europe, see if you can finde
A more composed Prince, whose noble minde
Can entertain a grief, and never vent
(But turn) his passion into blest content;
Whole volumns of his grief may be exprest;
And since I dare not speak, I'l weep the rest.
O stop my tears, or else my eyes will flow
Into a deluge; for my sorrows know
No mean at all; extreams of tears must fall
For such extreams of grief: Attend me all,
Whose hearts are not too flinty; I'l declare
Your Soveraigns suffering, with your Soveraigns care
How many widowed night has his sad heart
VVorn out with sorrow, having none t'impart
[Page 21]His thoughts unto, except he please to spend
His language on the ears of such a friend
As
Haman was; whose unrestrained power
Punisht his own offence in half an hour.
Judg you, whose hearts have vow'd a double life,
What are th' endearments of a tender wife.
Judg you (what 'tis) whom bounteous Heav'n hath blest
With numerous off-springs, to be dispossest
Of those encreasing comforts, which discry
No real joy, but in their parents eye.
And if th' enjoyment of these blessings yeeld
Such large content, needs must the want unshield
The Soul of comfort: O unhappy fate!
Who'd be a father at so dear a rate?
A wife, unhappy, happy word; a wife
Happy oft-times to an unhappy life:
A wife, that word importeth joys
Unparallel'd; that very word destroys
Armies of grief, and oftentimes it brings
A heav'nly sorrow to the hearts of Kings;
And curs'd be they, heav'n gives me leave to speak,
That shall presume to separate, or break
Conjugal bands; How many in this Land
Lie subject to this curse? how many stand
Amaz'd, almost distracted, that have been
Actors? Heav'n bless my King, protect my
Queen;
How many false aspersions have you cast
Upon their heads? Did ye not strive to blast
Their spotless honors? What was spoke of late,
I hate to think, much more to nominate:
[Page 22]Admit it had been truth, then had ye not
Prov'd much unjust, to leave so large a blot
Within this
Kingdom: Thus you can discry
Inferior molehils, but let
mountains lie.
But tell me then, is this the onely way
To make a
glorious King? Heaven grant
he may
Want such obnoxious
honor, till he crave
Honor from
you, to whom
he honors gave:
Consider well, and ye will finde it true,
'Twas heav'n that made him glorious, & not you:
'Twas he that fill'd his Soul with true renown,
And crown'd his Cross as you have crost his crown
Heav'n breaks no
Covenants, he never fails,
He never
unvotes what he
votes, or rails
Against his
enemies, but grieves to see
Their Souls run headlong to their destinie.
Abused
Peace perverts into a
Curse:
What can be
better, or what may be
worse
Then
Peace, whose presence
(like the Sun) display
Its golden Ensigns; whose refulgent rays
Adorns the
Earth, and fills the gazing eye
With glorious light, and peaceful
Majesty?
But when rude
Boreas summons all his
pow'r,
And argues with the
Seas; In half an hour
You may behold a change: they which before
Were wrapt in
silence, now begin to roar
Into a
fury; contradictions bring
Endless disputes: Shall
Boreas be a
King,
And rule th' unruly
w
[...]vves? (when surges meet
How rudely do they part, how rudely great!)
[Page 23]Whilest peaceful
Zephyrus must be deny'd
To breathe upon the
floods? Can storms abide
For ever? No: rash
Boreas must at last
Submit to
Zephyrus; whose milder blast
Proclaims a sudden Peace, and strives to grace
The simp'ring Ocean with a smoother face.
But whither am I hurried? slack my sails,
I fly beyond my
Port; I finde the gales
Of grief are too robustuous, and I doubt
I cannot anchor here, but tack about.
Seven years are now compleated since my grief
Had its initiation, yet
relief
Stands at a distance;
Peace is in a doubt
Whether to come
within, or stay
without.
Your rash proceedings and your great disgraces
Make
Peace even blush to look
you in the
faces:
O miserable men that live to know
Such Times, such a reduplicating wo▪
Is there no art remains? Is there no way
To set you right, that thus have gone astray?
Is there no faithful
Lot to pray for Peace,
And stop the
cause, that so th' effect may
cease?
Is there no
Jonah dare proclaim, and cry
Unto the
sons of men, Destruction's nigh?
But are they all asleep, now sorrows swarm?
(O how can they repose in such a storm!)
Rouze slumbring Souls, and lift your heads above
The decks of negligence; The God of Love
Will be too angry, if you sleep too long:
Advance your thoughts, and let your pray'rs be strong
[Page 24]For me, who am thus weak, and must decay,
Except this grief-encreasing
Remora
Be wip'd away; O may I not offend
The Auditor of Heav'n, if I shall spend
Some words to this effect; I must confess
Dear God, I am corrupted, I address
My self to thee; O let thy healing hand
Prescribe a Balsam for this bleeding Land:
I have been too progressive, grant I may
Be retrograded to my former way:
Spoyl not the path because I step'd aside,
Correct my feet, and let the path abide.
What though the path be something rough and small,
Better's a rough path then no path at all;
For now I ramble up and down, and see
No certainty, except of miserie.
Is it discretion to pull down a fair
Cathedral Church because one spider's there?
Is it discretion to condemn the Sun
Because the
Dials false? the Times must run
Their revolutions; set the Dial right,
Then you'l not want a truth till
Sol wants light.
Let all things move within their orbs; suppose
Th' inferior lights should labor to depose
The Prince of light, and drive him from his throne,
And by an usurpation make't their own:
What strange aspects would this produce t'affright
Supine
Astronomers, to see that light,
Which was at distance, now approach so neer,
And blaze in an improper Haemisphere!
[Page 25]Consider then, would not the Stars let fall
Too great an influence, the Sun too small,
On humane bodies? O may they remain
In their own Region, then would
Sol again
Enjoy his just prerogatives, and feed
The world with such a lustre, as I need:
Peace is the light I want, could I obtain
But Peace, how soon should I survive again!
Peace is the best Physician, I require
Nothing but Peace to quench my hot desire.
A good Physician will be sure to see,
E're he prescribes, where lies the maladie;
Then he'l begin to study, and to try
What may be best; whether
Phlebotomy
Be good, and if it be, opens a vein,
And so restores his Patients ease again:
Thus, thus,
grand authors of my woes, should you
Have done at first, if ye had been but true
To me; but when at first my griefs you saw
Ye thought it good to purge me with your Law:
And having purg'd me, ye began to see
How weak I was, and what a low degree
Y'ad brought me to, and then ye fell at strife,
By killing me, how to preserve my life.
You brought
strange Doctors to me, whose advice
I'm sure was purchas'd by too high a price:
They bid me lift my
arms up to my
head,
And stir my
Body; for diseases bred
For want of
exercise: they bid me play
A game or two at
Irish every day.
[Page 26]I took th' advice, then I begun to finde
A
sudden alteration, and my
minde
Was so transported, that me thoughts the ground
Began to dance,
and I my self turn'd round:
I fell into a
trance, with this
presumption,
And ever since I've liv'd in a
Consumption.
Let
this example all the world assure,
An
English Grief will have no
Scottish Cure.
And so farewel, if these be your conditions,
Henceforth you may prove—But not Physicians
Englands Petition to Heaven.
AH me! Ah me! can nothing but
Ah me
Fly from my
barren heart (dear God)
to thee?
Ah me! and why will not that word import
Ten thousand
pray'rs, that so I may resort
Unto thy ears by
Troops? then would I run
Division on
ah me, till Time were done.
Weak as I am,
distracted, and
defil'd,
I prostitute my self, not as a
childe
Of
Sin, but as a
Parent that has had
A numerous
off-spring; Now my heart is sad,
O grant that my unfeigned
grief may grow
Upon a real
graft, that I may show
The fruit of perfect sorrow, and declare
How great my sins, how great thy mercies are:
Storm thou my
sins, and force them to retreat,
And make my craving
brest thy
mercies seat:
[Page 27]Strike thou my
flinty Soul, that my desires
May, from
a spark, encrease to
flames; Thy fires
Must thaw my
Icy Soul, or else I shall
Remain for ever a
congealed Gall:
I am compos'd of
steel, and cannot bow,
Except thy
dear instructions teach me how:
Attract
me by the
loadstone of thy
grace,
That through thy
mercies I may see thy
face;
And having view'd it, I may never more
Return to what I
Idoliz'd before;
I have a
Lydia's heart, in mercy please
To open it,
thy mercies are the keyes:
Ravish my
Soul, that I may fall in love
With thee,
my God, with thee, that art a
Dove
Of innocency: Let my
raptures mount
As high as Heav'n, that there I may recount
Thy never
failing love, and sing thy praise
With
Davids heart, until the
last of days:
Tune thou my
stupid Soul, and then it shall
Be truly sweet, and heav'nly musical:
Convert my
swords to
sighs, that I my fight
With my own
crimes, and hate to take delight
To
lacerate my self. O tye the hands
Of fury!
make me stoop to thy commands.
Convert my
tydes of blood to
streams of tears,
My
lyes to
truths, my
horrid oaths to
pray'rs:
Make me to apprehend how
thou hast wept
Of late for
me, whilest I securely slept.
Let not thy
tears destroy me, but let me
Dissolve to tears (dear God) and weep to thee:
The
Heav'ns to melt,
(O Heav'n some pity take!)
Or has thy
great discretion thought it good
To send these
showres to
wash away that blood
VVhich I have lost; I know thy purer eyes
Cannot endure a bloody sacrifice.
O stop thy
bottle, pity my
sad times,
And grant to
me more
tears or fewer
crimes!
Be pleas'd to view me with a gracious eye,
And let the lustre of thy
Majesty
Reflect upon
me, let thy
glorious light
Create a day of
mercy, that the
night
Of
sin may be expel'd; O hear my pray'rs
Usher'd unto thee with a tyde of
tears.
To me, O let thy
mercies be exprest,
And fill the
concave of a sinful
brest;
Sinful,
ah sinful, more then I am able
VVith language to express,
intolerable:
Behold my
festred Soul, whose wounds proceed
From
sin, and being drest with
sin, they bleed;
They bleed (dear Heav'n)
they bleed, O what a flood
A flood they make! and I am bath'd in
blood:
O stop this
current that does still begin,
Or I shall drown a
Kingdom in my
sin:
O look upon me, and in mercy please
To send me
salve to
palliate my disease:
Begin to hear (O GOD) begin to send,
That so my sorrows may begin to end.
THE LAMENTATIONS OF JEREMIAH.
CHAP. I.
Contents.
1
The miserable estate of Jerusalem by reason of her sins, 12
She complaineth of her grief, 18
and confesseth Gods judgments to be righteous.
HOw doth the
City, that was
blest of
late
1
With store of
people, now lament her
state?
How like a poor distressed
widow she
Deplores her sorrows, that was wont to be
Great among
Nations? greater far then any;
How tributary is she now to many?
[Page 30]
2 She drowns her blushing
cheeks with midnight tears,
And from her
lovers can obtain no pray'rs:
Her
friends, arm'd all with treachery, arise
And shew themselves her publique
enemies:
3 Spu
[...]'d with affliction,
Judah's forc'd to fly,
And throw her self into
Captivity;
B
[...]cause of sense consuming servitude
She dwells amongst the
Heathen multitude:
Her
Foes o're-took her when she was distrest;
Well might she wish for, but could take no rest.
4
Sion is with redoubled grief surpriz'd,
Because her
feasts by none are
solemniz'd:
Her
Gates are fill'd with
desolation, and
Her
Virgins tortur'd with
afflictions hand:
Her
Priests with sighs, heart-breaking sighs, express
Their grief: Ah
Sion's fill'd with bitterness!
5 Her chiefest people are her chiefest
foes;
Just Heav'n with these innumerable woes
Plagues her transgressions; and the enemy
Drives her dear
Children to
Captivity.
6 And that rare beauty, which adorn'd and grac'd
Sions dear daughter, is of late defac'd:
Her
Princes fly, and ransack all about,
Like hungry
Harts, to finde a pasture out:
They all are fled, and flying, can procure
No strength t'oppose the merciless
pursuer.
7 But when
Jerusalem was thus confin'd
T'afflictions lawless bounds,
she call'd to minde
Her by past pleasures, and those days which she
[Page 31]For now her
crying sins are grown so great,
8
That
Heav'n hath thrown her from his
mercies seat:
All those that lov'd her, yea and highly priz'd her,
Seeing her shameful
nakedness, despis'd her:
She sighs & turns her back, as though she'd borrow
A private
breath t'express a publique
sorrow:
For being fill'd with wickedness, Her
end
9
She never thought of, neither had she
friend
To comfort her:
O Lord my God, behold
My great afflictions: Ah my foe grows bold,
And magnifies himself: His stretch'd-out hand
10
Hath spoyld the pleasures of my fruitful Land:
The very Heathen, whom thou didst deny
Thy Congregation, do contemn, defie
Thy just commands; and with unseemly paces
Inforce an entrance to thy holy places.
Her
bread-desiring people, fill'd with
grief,
11
Give their chief
treasures for a
small relief:
Behold, O Lord, consider my distress,
For I am vile, and fill'd with wickedness.
Oh stop your hasty feet, ye that pass by,
12
And look upon my new-bred
misery;
Sum up the totals of all grief, then borrow
A million more; 'Tis nothing to that
sorrow
Which I support, wherewith the
angry power
Hath pleas'd t'afflict me in
His wrathful hour:
For he from his
all-ruling throne hath sent
13
Into my bones a fiery
Government:
Yea, and his ever-active
hand hath set,
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[Page 32]And I am desolate, and fainting lie;
Being turn'd from
him, am turn'd to
misery.
14 Fast to my servile neck
He hath bound on
The wreathed yoke of my transgression;
Impair'd my strength, and by
His just commands
I'm thrown into my persecutors hands,
Where I, remorsless I, must still remain,
Voyd of all hope to be enlarg'd again.
15
His unresisted strength hath broke the
bones,
And made a
footstool of my
Mighty Ones:
A great Assembly
He hath call'd that may
Punish my
youngmen that will not
obey;
And
Judahs fairest
Virgin Daughter's trod
As in a winepress by th' Almighty God.
16 And O these
sorrows, O these
miseries
Stir up a
tempest in my clouded eyes!
Mine eyes, mine eyes, run o're, I dayly spend
More tears then any brain can apprehend:
My foes prevail, my children all are led
Into Captivity, my hopes are fled.
17
Sion spreads forth her feeble arms t'express
She seeks for
comfort, but is
comfortless.
The
Lord of hoasts commands that
Jacobs eyes
Shall round about him see his enemies;
And poor despis'd, distrest
Jerusalem
Is as a
menstruous woman amongst them.
18 My God is
just, yet I, rebellious I,
Transgrest against his glorious Majesty:
O hear
my people, let your ears but borrow
A minutes time, from
Time, to hear my
sorrow!
[Page 33]My
Virgins and my
young men all are fled
Into
Captivity; my
Priests are dead:
19
My
Friends refuse to hear me when I call;
For want of
food my hungry
Elders fall.
O Lord, behold, see how I am opprest,
20
My heart thumps at the portals of my brest:
Oh I have sinned, and my
sins indite me;
Abroad the
Sword, at home grim
Death affrights me.
My friends have heard my
groaning, and my grief
21
Is known to them; But I know no
relief:
My
foes with clamorous voyces fill the
Earth,
And make my
grief the subject of their
mirth:
But
Heav'n hath nam'd a day when these my
foes
Shall be
Co-partners in my mock'd at
woes.
O God, let not their faults be hid from thee,
22
But deal with them as thou hast dealt with me:
My heart is faint, my struggling
sighs are many,
My
griefs too great to be exprest by any.
Meditatio in Capitulum.
IF thou wouldst know, my
Soul, what har
[...]s attend
A
sinners progress to his journeys end;
Here, here thou mayst, if with impartial eyes
Thou wilt observe the unsatiate
miseries
Of poor
Jerusalem, whose tedious
groans,
Whose
sighs, and
sobs, and
tears, the world bemoans.
[Page 34]Observe her heedless steps, and thou shalt know
Sin was the
Author of her self-will'd
Wo.
'Twas sweet at first, but sowre in th' event,
That little word assumes a large extent:
Where
Sin predominates, there we may find
The inconvenience of a troubl'd
mind:
For when the
mind's perplex'd, then we begin
Either to fall to, or to fall from
Sin:
For like the restless Sea she's active still,
And always agitating
good or
ill;
If well imploy'd, she builds a
wall about
The
Soul, to keep approaching
dangers out:
But if she spends her thriftless hours in
Evil,
She makes a
banquet to invite the
Devil,
Who with his subtle and misguiding force
Will re-invite her to a second
course:
And then let
Christians judg how much
disquiet
That
Soul sustains that loves the
Devils dyet.
Ah then my
Soul, if thou desir'st to be
Exempted from the
lot of
miserie,
Make
Heav'n thy refuge; there thou mayst be sure
To find contentment, and repose secure:
Thou needst not fear, there is no
poys'nous thing
Can wound that
Soul that truly loves his
King:
Nor all the
malice mortals can invent,
Shall add to thee one mite of
discontent:
There is no
sorrow, no
calamity
T'oppress thy
thoughts; No wry-look'd
enemy
T'upbraid thy
actions: then my
Soul advise
How much it profits to be
heav'nly wise.
[Page 35]Ah had
Jerusalem (whose grief no
pen
Can e're engrave into the hearts of
men)
Been wisely wary, she had never known
Those late reap'd
sorrows, which her
sins had sown:
Had she but search'd her
bosom, and contriv'd
Her
actions well, her
glory had surviv'd:
Had she with
Davids tears in time repented,
Those uncorrected sins her heart lamented,
She had not felt those
judgments which did wait
Ʋpon the
ruines of her falling
State:
But whilst her eyes were muffl'd and deluded,
Folly came in, where
Reason was excluded.
Needs must that Kingdom unto ruine run,
Where Folly sets and rises with the Sun.
Like as the body that's oppress'd with grief.
Can neither hope for, nor obtain relief,
Till the
disease be known; there's none can tell
The
rage of
sickness that was always
well.
Even so
Jerusalem, because that she
Judg'd not the
Reason of her
Miserie
Till she was past
recovery, could never
Have health restor'd her, but was sick for ever▪
Alas! alas! that Kingdom needs must fall,
That has a grief so Epidemical.
Had she but like the
Ninevites in time
Stop'd those distemp'ring
humors which did climb
Above her
strength, her
grief had quickly ended,
And
Heav'n revok'd those
judgments he intended.
Med'cines are
vain things when apply'd too late,
And through delay a grief grows desperate.
[Page 36]He that is
Sin-sick is in bad condition,
Except Heav'n please to be his
Souls Physician:
And if God once deny his Patient bliss,
Whose must the fault be, when the fault's not his?
Alas! alas! 'tis but in vain for any
To strive to cure one grief, that had so many
As sad
Jerusalem had; her
plagues were more
Then all the world could reckon up before:
She had a
Monop'ly, she need not borrow,
She was the
Hierogliphick of all
sorrow.
Yet if in time she'd made repentant
moan,
Heav'n could have cur'd them
all as well as
one.
There is no
Sin, let it be
great or
small,
But Heav'n can find a
balsam for them all.
My
Soul, thou art my
Monarch, therefore I
May boldly look into thy
Monarchy.
First
praise thou Heav'n, then
learn to be content
With what he sends thee; let thy
government
Be still
Monarchical, and fenc'd about
With
fervent prayers, to keep
Sedition out.
Let
watch and
ward be kept, lest
Traytor Sin
Betray thee; Let not
Faction come within
Thy
lists: And still be careful to surprize
Rebellious thoughts, as soon as they arise:
For if they once appear within thy
borders,
They'l breed
confusion, and confus'd
disorders.
Learn to be
wisely politick, and be
Ready to let
Religion counsel thee.
Let
Reason be thy
guide, and let thy
Laws
Be
truly executed; Let thy
Cause
[Page 37]Be just and real: then my
Soul, be sure
To let thy
fundamental Laws endure,
Till he that sits on the refulgent Throne
Shall take thee hence, and keep thee for his own.
CHAP. II.
Contents.
1
Jeremiah lamenteth the misery of Jerusalem. 20
He complaineth thereof to God.
BEhold!
Heav'ns Metropolitan hath spread
1
His gloomy clouds of
anger on the head
Of sad
Jerusalem: He hath destroy'd
Those bounteous treasures
Israel enjoy'd;
And from his
mem'ry hath his footstool thrown,
When he with floods of
anger was o'reflown.
And
Jacobs habitations he unfram'd,
2
And wrathfully consum'd them: Thus inflam'd
The strongest Castles
Judahs Daughter had,
He tumbled down, and made her people sad:
And he, to shew what his grand power could do,
Defil'd the
Kingdom and the
Princes too.
His two-edg'd
passion hath cut off the
horn
And
Chief of
Israel, made him a
scorn
[Page 38]To his deriding
Foes, and also stayd,
Yea and withdrawn his
right hand from his ayd:
His fury like an all consuming
flame
Burn'd against
Jacob, and devour'd his
name.
4 His wrestless
arm hath bent his yeelding
bow;
He stood resolved like a dauntless
foe:
And in the
Tabernacle he hath flew
The eyes delight, like fire his anger flew.
5 He threw down
Israels strongest
scituations,
And fill'd
Jerusalem with
lamentations.
6 And like a fruitless
garden hath layd voyd
Th' infected
Tabernacle▪ and destroy'd
Th'
Assemblies structures; and an angry wind
Hath blown their
Feasts and
Sabbaths from his mind;
Both
Kings &
Priests in anger he forgot,
And look'd on them as if he saw them not.
7 His
holy places, and his
Altar he
Abhor'd; and gave unto the
Enemie
Her fairest
Palaces: their ill-tun'd
voyces,
As on a
feast-day, fill'd the
Church with
noises.
8 His
hand stretch'd forth a
line, when he intended
To ruine
Sion that so much offended:
He hath resolv'd
destruction; therefore all
The
rampart languish'd with the gliding
wall.
9 He hath destroy'd, and batter'd down her
grates,
The gaping
Earth imbowel'd all her
Gates
Her
King and
Princes dwell with
Gentiles; and
Her
Laws are banish'd from her
lawless Land
Her
Prophets gaze about; the frowning skies▪
Do represent no
vision to their eyes.
[Page 39]Her mournful
Elders on the ground repose,
10
And silently consent unto their woes:
They cloth'd themselves with
sackcloth, and they crown'd
Their
heads with
dust they borrowed from the ground:
No joys were pleasing to the eys of them
That were the
Virgins of
Jerusalem.
My bowels yern, my tear-distilling eyes
11
Are sore with gazing on the
miseries
Of frail
Jerusalem: Alas, the feet
Of her dear
sucklings stagger in the street!
And like the wounded in the
City, send
12
Their
sighs for
food unto their dearest
friend:
And whilst they slumbred on their
mothers brest,
They pour'd their
Souls into
eternal rest.
What shall I witness for thee, O thou
Gem,
13
Thou pining
Daughter of
Jerusalem?
To what shall I compare thee? What can be,
O
Sions Daughter, equal unto thee?
Let all the world recure thee, if they can;
For Ah, thy
breach is like the
Ocean!
Alas, thy purblind
Prophets all have been
14
Hoodwink'd with
folly, &
vain things have seen:
But ne'er discover'd thine
iniquity,
Which was the
cause of thy
captivity.
Their mis-informed
senses were content
To see false
Reasons for thy
Banishment.
All that past by, and saw thee thus decaying,
15
Clapt their
rude hands, yea hist at thee,
thus saying;
Is this the
City that the
wordlings call
16
Beauties perfection? This the
joy of all?
[Page 40]Thy
foes revile thee, and as they pass by
They gnash their teeth against thee; thus they cry,
This is the day we look'd for, now we know
She is destroy'd, we see her
overthrow.
17 That which the
King of
Heav'n devised, now
He hath enacted and fulfil'd his
vow:
He hath thrown down without remorse, O see,
Thy
adversaries triumph over thee.
This hath th'
Almighty done for them, at length
He made thē strong, yea & advanc'd their
strength.
18 They mov'd the
Lord with their uncessant cries;
O wall of Sions daughter, let thine eyes
Run down like rivers, give thy self no sleep;
Forget to
smile, and practise how to
weep.
19
Arise, and in the silent night bemoan
Thy grief; O cry unto th' Almighty One:
In the beginning of the watch implore
Thy growing sorrows; make a flood before
Th' Eternals face: O crave that he would please
To sent thy young, faint, hungry children ease.
20 Consider
Lord, to whom thou'st done this great, lie
This unrepented
ill: Shall
women eat
Their
span-long children? Shall thy
slain Priests
Tomb'd with thy
Prophet in thy
Sanct'ary?
21 The
young and
old have shar'd in equal
harms,
They lie and tumble in each others
arms:
Upon the flinty streets my
Virgins fall,
With my
young men; the
sword disliv'd them all:
Thus in thine
anger hast thou struck them dead,
Thus hast thou kill'd, and never pitied.
[Page 41]As in a
solemn day, my
terrors round
22
About thou'st called, so that none was found
In the
Lords day of
anger to remain:
Those that I swadled and brought up, in vain
I brought them up; the
enemy infum'd
Envy'd this
off-spring, and their
days consum'd.
Meditatio in Capitulum.
SEe, see, my
Soul, what
Heav'n hath done! O see
What 'tis t'offend a
pow'rful Majestie!
Go, go, and quickly tell the
sons of men
What 'tis to rouze a
Lion from his
Den:
Bid
them keep
peace and
quietness in
Sion;
Bid
them turn
Lambs, or
Heav'n will turn a
Lion.
Bid
them take notice,
she that was the
stem
Of
honour, now is poor
Jerusalem.
Alas! alas!
experience made her know
Griefs abstract, and the
quintescence of
wo.
And ah my
Soul! who knows the
course of
sorrow?
There 'tis to day, it may be here to morrow.
Then have a care, let thy well tutor'd
grief
Know rather how to purchase a
relief,
Then
plagues and
torments; Let thy sober will
Be sway'd by
reason; let thy
reason still
Lead thee to
meditation: then begin
To search thy self, and cypher up thy
sin.
[Page 42]Having thus done, thou quickly wilt discry
Thy grief, and where th' imperious humors lie;
And having found them out, let no delay
Damage thy Soul, but quickly haste away;
And from the bottom of thy heart confess
Thy greatest sins; so Heav'n may make them less.
O kiss the Son; for if his anger be,
Yea but a little kindled, blest is he
Whose groping Soul his seal'd up
mercies found,
And cast his
anchor in so firm a ground.
Heav'n smiles on them whose oft-repeated pray'r
Expands their sins, & makes their God their care.
But when revolting
negligence shall call
Confounding
ruine from th' imperial hall
Of Heav'ns high-seated Palace, and invite
A dreadful vengeance, to eclipse the light
Of a resplendent happiness; and double
The lab'ring Soul with interposing trouble:
Ah, then our
pleasures shall be turn'd to
toys,
And sudden
grief shall expiate our
joys!
And like
Jerusalem, confus'd shall we
Wander and languish in obscuritie:
Then, then our down-cast spirits shall lament,
And moan their just deserved punishment:
Then shall our
Peace be drawn unto an end,
Then shall we look for, but shall find no friend:
Then shall our sad Embassadors prepare,
And mount to Heav'n, but find no audience there:
Then shall our blubber'd eyes in vain let slide
Innumerable tears: then shall the Tyde
[Page 43]Of Heav'ns high-flowing anger rage and roar,
And dash against our sin-polluted shore:
Then shall we run, and in our running, meet
Th' obvious sword in the blood-streaming street:
Then shall our hasty trembling feet retire
To our sad houses; there shall
Death require
Th' arrears of sorrow▪ Lingring
Famine shall
Like to a lean-cheek'd Fury grasp us all:
And from our strouting
veins shall squeez a flood,
A luke-warm deluge of diffused blood.
Then shall our
children with their
midnight cries
Lament for
food; Then shall their
mothers eyes
Bedew their
bosoms with the falling
showres
Of dribling
tears: Then shall their lothed hours
Haste to an end; And having thus exprest
Their
woes, shall creep into
Eternal rest.
Then shall the early
melancholly Bells
Sound mournful
peals for their sad last
farewels.
Ah now my
Soul! Can any
griefs out-vy.
Such
griefs as these? Can any
heart deny
The
justness of these
Judgments? If they do,
May they feel
Sodoms and
Gomorrahs too.
Heav'n cannot be unjust; No, no, 'tis we
Provoking
sinners are unjust, not
he.
Shall we offend, and shall we every day
Hale down his
Judgments on our backs, then lay
The burthen of our faults on him, and cry,
Like Traytor
Judas, Master is it I?
No, no, we must not; but let every one
Ʋnbosom all his
actions, and make known
Plead himself
guiltless, he's a
happy man.
Find out but
ten good men, and for their sake
Heav'n will deduct a
thousand plagues, and sha
[...]
Ten thousand more from his incensed
brest,
And for their sakes will give
ten thousand rest.
Sodom can witness
Heav'n brooks no denyal,
He had sav'd
all, had
ten been found but loyal.
Oh
blind and
foolish is that
City, when
Ten thousand doubled cannot number
ten.
CHAP. III.
Contents.
1
The faithful bewail their calamities. 22
By the mercies of God they nourish their hopes▪ 37
They acknowledg Gods Justice. 55
They pray for deliverance, 64
and vengeance on their enemies.
1'TIs
I have seen
affliction by the
rod,
Th' impetuous
anger of the
wrathful God.
2 He with a
pitchy darkness mask'd my
sight,
And hath not
cloth'd me with the
robes of light.
3 He turn'd his
hand against me all the
day;
4 He broke my
bones, and made my
flesh decay.
[Page 45]His
lab'ring fury hath built up a
wall
5
Against
me, and surrounded
me with
gall.
In
dungeon places he me set, like
those
6
Which in their
graves have had a long
repose.
And he hath made my toilsom
chains to be
7
Heavy;
He hedg'd me from my libertie.
And when
I shout and cry he will not hear,
8
But makes
my pray'r a
stranger to his
ear.
He hath inclosed me with
stones that stay
9
My hasty
steps, he hath incurv'd my
way.
And as a
lurking Bear observes my
paces,
10
Or as a
Lion in the secret
places.
He turn'd
me from my
ways, disturb'd my
state,
11
Pull'd
me in
pieces, made
me desolate.
He bent his
Bow, and made
my trembling
heart
12
The aym'd-at
object of his
fatal dart.
He caus'd his
quivered guests t'inforce my
veins,
13
And take a
large possession in my
reins.
I was my
peoples laughing
stock, their
song
14
Was tuned to my
mischief all day long.
He fill'd me full of
bitterness and
wo,
15
And made
me drunk with nauseous
wormwood too.
He brake my
teeth with
gravel stones, and
he
16
With heaps of
ashes hath involved
me.
Banish'd my
Soul from
Peace, Prosperity
17
Is quite relapsed from my
memory.
I said, my
strength, my very
hope is even
18
Wasted and perish'd from the
Lord of
Heav'n.
Ponder my
woes, and my
afflictions all,
19
Remember both the
honey and the
gall.
[Page 46]
20 These things do still in my
remembrance rest,
And
ah, my
Soul is humbled in my
brest!
21 This I recall to my
swift-roving mind,
Therefore I hope, and hoping, hope to find.
22 It is the
mercy of the
Lord we sail
So safe; for his compassions never fail.
23 They're every morning new; thy
faithfulness
Is great, and greater then I can express.
24 The
Lord's my portion, saith my
Soul; and I
Will therefore hope unto
Eternity.
25 And that
just Soul, which dayly shall attend
Upon the
Lord, shall never want a
friend.
26'Tis good that man should hope and wait upon
Th'
Almighties pleasure and
salvation.
27'Tis good for
man to exercise the
truth,
And bear the
yoke of his offending
youth.
28 He sits alone, and silently makes known,
He bears no other burthen then his
own.
29 His humbled
mouth salutes the dusty
ground,
As if some hopes of
mercy may be found.
30 He's fill'd with
shame, he willingly invites
T'a second
stroke the hand of him that
smites.
31 For they that strive, and really endeavor,
God will not leave, nor cast them off for ever.
32 He will have pity, though he sends a grief;
In multitudes of mercy lies relief.
33 He doth not punish, nor augment the
smart
Of sinners
children with a willing
heart.
34 His
feet take no delight to crush to
death
Th' offending
pris'ners of th' inferior
earth.
[Page 47]To turn away
mans right (his heart abhors)
35
Before the face of their
superiors.
And to subvert a
man in his just cause,
36
The
Lord approveth not, 'tis not his
Laws.
And who is he whose spend-thrift
tongue dare say,
37
This thing shall come to pass, when
Heav'n says
nay?
Out of the mouth of him that's
God indeed
38
There doth not
evil, but known
good proceed.
Why doth a living
man with grumbling thoughts
39
Complain as one that's punisht for his faults?
Let's search, let's try our
ways, let's turn again
40
To
God, and he will turn away our
pain.
And let our hands b'extended with our
Souls
41
To Heav'ns
Star-chamber, where our God controuls.
We have rebelliously transgrest, and
thou,
42
Thou hast not pard'ned with a cheerful
brow.
Thine
anger hath o'reshadowed us, thou hast
43
Slain without pity, we thy
anger taste.
Th' ast vail'd thy self with
clouds, which will not let
44
Our
prayers pass thorough to discharge
our debt.
And as th' off-scouring thou,
O Lord, hast made us
45
Amongst those
factious people that betray'd us.
Our greedy
enemies have op'ned wide
46
Their
mouths against us, and our
pains deride.
Fear, like a
snare, incloses us about,
47
And
desolation will not keep
without.
Mine
eyes run down like hasty
floods of
water,
48
For the destruction of my
peoples Daughter.
Mine
eyes are full, and
tears do stream upon
49
My
cheeks without an
intermission:
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[Page 48]
50 Till
Heav'n look'd down on my
enriver'd face,
And view'd my weeping from his
holy place.
51 Mine
eyes affect my
pining heart with
pity,
Because of all the
Daughters of my
City.
52 And causless (like a
frighted bird that flies)
I still am chased by my
enemies.
53 They have destroy'd me in the
dungeon, nay
They cast a
stone upon me where
I lay.
54 Th' imperious
waves mounted above my
head,
And then I cry'd,
Alas, alas, I'm
dead.
55 I call'd upon thy Name (O Lord;) my voyce
Out of the
dungeon made a dreadful
noise.
56 Th' ast heard my
cries, Oh let thy
ears not lie
Hid from the breathing of my doleful
cry.
57 And in that day when I on thee did call,
Thou cam'st,
and bid me never fear at all.
58 And when my
Soul (O Lord) was fil'd with
strife,
Thou didst both
plead my
cause, and save my
life,
59 And thou hast plainly seen my wrong'd estate;
Judg
thou my
cause, be
thou my
Advocate.
60 For
thou hast seen
their vengeance, thou dost see
Their deep imaginations against
me.
61 Thou their
reproach hast heard, and apprehended
What against
me their busie
thoughts intended.
62
Thou know'st the very
lips of
them that rose
Against
me, and the
malice of my
foes.
63 Behold their
sitting and their
rising, I
Am all their
musick, and their
melody.
64 Render to
them a recompence, O
God,
And let them feel
thy handy-work, thy rod.
[Page 49]O give
them grief of
heart; O let
them burst
65
With dregs of
sorrow, let them be accurst.
And let
thy angry persecuting
hand
66
Destroy, confound, and sweep them from the Land.
Meditatio in Capitulum.
COme, come, my
Soul, do not obnubilate
Thy self with
smoky pleasures, nor create
More
vain delights to please thy
toyish minde:
Be serious now;
let pleasures be confin'd.
Th'
Almighty's angry, and his angry
Breath
Expresses nothing but
resolved Death.
His
wrath is kindled, and his
furious hand
Threatens a
ruine to a sinful
Land.
His
bow is
bent; behold he stands prepar'd,
Tis he, 'tis he, that will not be out-dar'd:
And should his
roving messenger impart
A secret
sorrow to a private
heart;
What then? Can all the
balsams may be found
[...]ecure so
great, so
terrible a
wound?
No, no: O then let thy discerning
eye
[...]e truly watchful; for
discovery
[...]ft-times prevents a
mischief: he's a
stranger
[...]o Heav'ns high
Court, that thinks t'outbrave a
danger
[...]ehold (my soul) thou art inviron'd round
[...]ith troops of
adversaries; hark, they sound
[Page 50]Their vilifying
trumpets: hark, they mock,
And make thy
sorrows but their
laughing stock.
Dost thou not hear them, how they shout and cry▪
As though they'd cleave th' unseparable
sky?
O be not deaf; rouze up
thy self, advance
Thy backward
thoughts, sleep not in
ignorance.
Provoke not
Heav'n too much: O do not still
Ʋrge more and more his most unwilling
will.
Observe but how unpleasantly his
arm
Draws up his
bow, as one that's loath to harm.
Methinks I hear him say, O can
ye tell!
Why will
ye dye,
ye house of Israel?
Methinks I hear his never-ending
breath
Breathe a disdain against a
sinners death.
Methinks I hear his
grieved spirit say,
Ye that are weary,
come, O
come away,
And lay your
burthens on my
back, and I
Will bear them
all; I'l bear them
willingly;
Why will ye
dye? why will
ye shut your
eyes,
And thus run head-long after
vanities?
Open your
Adder ears, come and rejoyce
With
me and
mine; let my
harmonious voyce
Invite
you: Ah, what
pleasures can accrue,
From shadows, to such substances as you?
Cast off the works of
darkness, let true
light
Expel those
mists: O
come when I
invite.
What do
ye mean? O tell
me, tell
me why
Ye love to tumble in impurity?
Ah now my
Soul! let admiration prove
That
Heav'n's compos'd of nothing but of
Love▪
[Page 51]
O Love beyond expression! My deserts
(Rather then
Mercy) claim a thousand
darts.
Call home thy wandring
thoughts, and let
them all
(Like servants) be obedient to thy Call.
Examine them; the very
best will show,
Thy best
deserts are but an
overthrow.
Review thy
actions; see if
they can yeeld
One grain of
comfort: see if
they can shield
Thy threatned
state: The more men strive to smother
Their sins,
the more one sin begets another.
Then fly, dull
soul, to Heav'ns high
Court, & there
Melt,
melt, into an
everlasting tear.
Attone thy
God, let not thy
tongue deny
The
truth to
him, when
he shall ask
thee, why,
Why hast
thou done this
wickedness? Confess,
'Tis
thou hast sinn'd, 'tis
he that must depress
That
head-increasing Hydra: Then shalt
thou
[...]ehold with what a voluntary
brow
He'l entertain
thee, and those
joys impart
To
thee, which wait upon a
contrite heart.
He will have
pity, though
he sends a
grief:
In multitudes of mercy lies relief.
The God of
Love did never take delight
[...]o mantle
sinners with the clouds of
night.
[...]e's an indulgent
Father, and his
care
[...] infinite, as all
his mercies are.
Compose thy numerous thoughts, my Soul, and run:
O tell that Father, thou wilt be his Son.
CHAP. IV.
Contents.
1
Sion bewaileth her pitiful estate: 13
She confesseth her sins. 21
Edom is threatned. 22
Sion is comforted.
1 HOw is the
gold grown dim! how is the fine
The purest changed, that was wont to shine
The
stones that pav'd the
Sanct'ary are thrown
Into the
streets, for
beasts to trample on.
2 The sons of
Sion, which I could compare
To finest
gold, behold, see now they are
Esteem'd as
earthen pitchers, which the hands
Of the industrious
Potter still commands.
3 The ill-shap'd
monsters, which the
Ocean owns
As
proper guests, nourish their little ones:
But ah, my
Daughters are grown pitiless,
Like
Ostriches within the wilderness.
4 The wordless tongues of thirsty
children cleave
To their unliquid mouths; they never leave
Their integrating cries:
Poor hearts in vain
They cry for
food, but can no
food obtain.
5 And they that fed upon delicious sweets,
Are desolate in the unquiet streets:
[Page 53]They that were brought up in a scarlet dress,
Embrace a
dunghil as their happiness.
For ah, my peoples
Daughter suffers more
6
For her great sins, then
Sodom did before.
Her beautified
Nazarites could show
7
A purer white then
milk, whiter then snow;
Their
bodies then the
rubies were more red,
With shining
Saphire were they polished.
But now their changed visages excel
8
The
coal in blackness; they that knew them well,
Now know them not: their flesh adheres & sticks:
Unto their bones, they are like with'red sticks:
Those that are ravisht of their fading breath
9
By the
encountring sword, enjoy a death
Transcending theirs, whose lingring souls are pinde
For want of
food: Ah Famine's never kinde!
The woful
women boyl their young, they have
10
Turn'd their own fruitful
bellies to a
grave.
The Lord hath now accomplished his
ire,
11
Pour'd out his streaming
anger, caus'd a fire
To flame in
Sion, which devour'd and layd
Those buildings waste, which their own hands had made,
The wisest
Kings, nor the worlds copious Nations
12
Did ever think to see these great invasions
Of the unbridled
foe, whose head-long courses
Divides her gates with their divided forces.
The
Priests &
Prophets crimeless blood have shed;
13
Their sins drew down this mischief on their head.
Like those they wander, whose benighted eyes
14
Attract no light from the all-lightning skies:
[Page 54]They have themselves polluted, so that none.
Can touch their clothes;
they are with blood o'reflown.
15 The
people cry, depart, what do ye mean?
Depart, depart, touch not, it is unclean:
The
Heathen, as they fled together, cry'd,
With us they shall not
sojourn, nor abide.
16
Gods anger hath divided them; he never
Will love them more, but cast
them off for ever:
They dis-respected
Priests, and they forgot
The
gravest Elders, whom they pitied not.
17 But as for
us, our help-beguiled eyes
Fail'd us as yet, no comfort would arise
To us; we watch'd for
Nations, but their pow'r
Could not protect us from so great a showre.
18 They hunt our steps, our oft-extended feet
Cannot divide their paces in the street:
Our end is neer, and our days total sum
Is now fulfil'd, for now our end is come.
19 Our
persecuters, our tormentors are
Swifter then
Eagles that enforce the ayr:
Upon the mountains they pursu'd us;
They,
To trap our feet, in
ambushcado lay.
20 Those
pits, which they for ruine have appointed,
Inclos'd our
Souls delight, the Lords Anointed;
Under whose
shadow we shall live, we said,
Amongst the
Heathens; thus are we dismay'd.
21 O
Edoms daughter, now stretch out thy voyce,
Be glad; and for a time in
Ʋz rejoyce:
This cup shall pass along to
thee, thou shalt
Be
drunk and
naked, 'cause thou didst revolt.
[Page 55]Thy plagues expire, O
Sions daughters! he
22
No more will lead thee to
captivity:
But
Edom, O lament, lift up thine eyes,
For Heav'n will visit thy iniquities.
Meditatio in Capitulum.
DIstracted
Sion, having spent her days
In
supine negligence, stands in a maze,
Not knowing what to do: her wonted
joys
Yeeld torment, not contentment, seeming toys,
And childish
trifles, which perplex her more,
Then thousand pleasures pleasur'd her before.
And now her alienated minde begins
To ruminate upon her former sins:
Her studious thoughts recount what precious time
She spent in
folly; weighing every crime
In equal
balance, posing them aright,
Findes them too heavy, and her self too light.
And like a frighted
bird, her winged minde
Flies up and down, thinking some rest to finde
In
sorrows wilderness: But ah, who can
Finde a lost Jewel in the Ocean!
Now we may see how her embraced
folly
Is quite dissolved into melancholly.
And those lascivious hours, which she hath spent,
Seem like grim
Marshals giving punishment
[Page 56]To an offending
wretch: As in a dream,
The fancy makes each object seem extream;
And why? b
[...]cause the judgment which should guide
Th' unruly
fancy, sleeping's layd aside:
The senses once lock'd up, the
fancy may
Not onely claim a priviledg to play,
But to delude, and represent those things
To meanest
Subjects, which belong to
Kings;
Which makes the flatter'd
Senses even dance,
And leap for
joy, and striving to advance
Themselves, awake; and finding all's but vain,
Reason steps in, and makes them poor again.
Even thus was poor
Jerus'lem lull'd asleep
With fancy-pleasing pleasure, which did keep
A
rendezvouz within her, lest that doubt
Should interpose, and put the fancy out
Of frame; And by a more diviner art
Should breed a
Meditation in her heart.
For when the wak'ned Senses once have gain'd
The upper hand, the
fancy is restrain'd,
And curb'd by
judgment; Reason too survives
Again, and claims her own
Prerogatives:
The
apprehension with her new-got pow'r
Begins to taste and apprehend how sowre
Her sweets are grown: Ah then she cries! I see
I'm turn'd to nothing, being turn'd from thee,
My great
Redeemer, I have quite exil'd
Thy mercies from my bosom, and revil'd
Thy
just commands, presuming oftentimes
To urge, with my reiterated crimes,
[Page 57]Thy long-continued
patience; and exprest
No grief at all from my obdurate brest.
My eyes were still laborious to discover
New vanities; and like a heedless
lover,
Whose beauty-dazled eyes do onely view
The Superficies, seeking not how true
The heart remaineth, but can fondly be
Content with beauties bare
Epitomie.
And thus my rash advent'ring Soul went on,
(Pleasures admit no intermission
To them, whose hearts are envious to obtain
A present pleasure, but a future pain:)
And
ah, how quickly's yeelding flesh and blood
Surpriz'd and conquer'd by a seeming good!
A
Good that's
good for nothing but t'invite
Fond
Souls to ruine, and o'revail the light
Of real
Truth: and with enforc'd delusions
Makes them take pleasure in their own
confusions.
Since then, my Soul, no pleasures can be found
In this base
Center; let thy thoughts rebound
From this fastidious
Orb; learn to advance
Thy self above the frowns, the reach of
chance:
And let th' extent of thy ambition be
Onely to purchase an Eternitie
Of happiness, which shall perpetuate,
And make thee glorious in a glorious state.
Divorce thy self from thy unsum'd-up faults,
Protract no
[...]ime, but clarifie thy thoughts.
Command thy self, and thou shalt be reputed
A most deserving
Victor: not confuted
[Page 58]By any, though their noble acts may claim
A true inheritance to a lasting
Fame.
For he that gives himself an overthrow,
Conquers a Kingdom, and subdues a foe.
Then arm thy self, my
Soul, and strive t'out-dare
Satans attempts; be studious to prepare
Thy self, and let thy
adversary see
When he is strongest, th' art as strong as
he.
Let not his vain delusions interpose
'Twixt thee and
Heav'n: O do not thou expose
Thy self to wilful danger, but endevor
T'accost his
actions; but beleeve him never.
Thou seest how poor
Jerusalem bewails
Her sad disasters; how she stoops, and fails
Beneath the burthen of her
grief, and cries,
O boundless grief! O vainest vanities!
O dream thou not of transitory things,
Which are unconstant, having secret wings
To fly away; and flying will confound
Thy better parts, and give thy
Soul a wound.
Be wary then, and let thy thought concur
With Heav'ns commands, and so will he tranfer
His Kingdom to thee, full of lasting treasure,
Where nothing's greater then the smallest pleasure.
CHAP. V.
REmember,
Lord, what's come upon us; see,
1
Ponder the greatness of our
infamy.
Strangers inherit that which is our due,
2
Our
habitation's turn'd to
aliens too.
For we are
Orphans, and all fatherless,
3
Our
Mothers are as
Widows in distress.
We buy our
water, (O unhappy fate!)
4
And purchase
fuel at too dear a rate.
Our
necks are persecuted and unblest,
5
And still we labor, but obtain no rest.
Unto the
Egyptians we our hand have spread,
6
Desiring to be satisfied with
bread.
Our buried
fathers sin'd in former times,
7
And we have born the burthen of their
crimes
Servants have rul'd us, and there's none that will
8
Deliver us, but let them rule us still.
With peril of our
lives we have obtain'd
9
Our bread, because the
sword was unrestrain'd.
Our skins are black, like to an
oven, and dry,
10
Because the
Famine caus'd a
Tyranny.
Sion and
Judahs daughter have been led
11
Away, and violently
ravished.
Princes are hang'd up by the hands; the faces
12
Of
Elders have no honor but disgraces.
[Page 60]
13 They made the
young men grinde; the
children blood
Fainted beneath the burthen of their
wood.
14 The
Elders at their gates did not abide,
The
young mens musick too is layd aside.
15 The joy is ceas'd which was our hearts relief,
Our
active dancing's turn'd to
passive grief.
16 The
crown is fallen from our
heads; and wo,
Wo be to us that have offended so.
17 Our hearts are faint, and our suffused eyes
Are dim, because of these calamities.
18 Because that
Sions mountain's desolate,
The
foxes walk thereon to recreate
19 Themselves: But thou, O
Lord, shalt sit on high
Upon thy Throne, unto
Eternity.
20 Wherefore dost thou forsake
us, and demure
Thy self so long from
us, that seem secure:
21 Turn thou, and we are turn'd; Lord we implore
Renew our days, as thou hast done before.
22 But thou hast quite rejected us, and
thou
Beholdst thy servants with an angry brow.
Meditatio in Capitulum.
COmplaining, what is that? will that relieve
Impris'ned
souls, or teach thē how to grieve▪
Tell me, sad
Soul, can greater
wants converse
With
flesh and
blood? nay, what more lasting
curse
Can be entail'd on
man, then to complain
To such an
ear as will not once retain
[Page 61]The least expression of a
grief, but cry,
Let woe attend him to Eternity?
O dismal sentence! and if this be all,
'Twould grieve a man that e're he griev'd at all,
To be thus harshly answer'd, and excluded
From hopes of
mercy; Be not thus deluded
Despairing
Soul.
Jerusalem, 'tis true, she did complain;
And was that all? O no, her
tongue did chain
A
prayer to her
Petition, and her
eyes
Were dayly trickling for her
miseries.
Where is that
man, that if he chance to be
Deprived of his
goods by
robberie,
Will sit complaining by himself, and try
No lawful means for a
recovery
Of what he lost? should we not deem him mad,
To lose that
good, which might be easily had,
If sought? This
Proverb calls it to my minde,
He that will spare to seek, must spare to finde.
Even so, if
Satan, whose depriving pow'r
Shall take a watch'd advantage, and devour
The
Manna of our
Souls, shall we then say,
'Tis gone, 'tis gone,
Satan has stoln't away?
And ah, can these, these
naked words recal
A lost
estate? O no, 'twill but enthral
Our
happiness the more, and make our
grief
The more extream, admitting no relief.
My
Soul, if
Satan e're shall make attempt
Ʋpon thy
weakness, lab'ring to exempt
[Page 62]And win thee from thy self; go and make known
Thy
cause to
Heav'ns Judg-Advocate: bemoan
Thy self with
tears; complain, confess, and pray:
God loves
confession, but abhors
delay.
Run, run unto
him, that thou mayst prevent
The
wrath and
censure of his
Parliament.
Go, go, for there thou shalt be sure to finde
Abundance link'd together in one minde.
There is no
faction, no
divisions there,
But all are setled in one
hemisphere
Of true Opinion: There is none t'expect
A
bribe; or else without a
bribe neglect
To agitate
thy business, or exact
Ʋpon thy guiltless
conscience, or enact
Their several
humors: There is none to bring
Thy
Soul in danger, 'cause th' ast lov'd thy
King,
Thy heav'nly
King, by whom thou shalt possess
A true and no excised
happiness.
O
endless joy! a
joy that far transcends
The deepest
thoughts; a
joy that never ends.
Be ravish'd, 0 my
Soul! and meditate
Ʋpon
Jerusalem: Let her sad state
Be as a
caveat to thee; let her
fall
Teach thee to stand: let her detested
gall
Prove
honey to thee; so mayst thou derive
Thy
welfare from her
sorrows, and survive
In everlasting bliss:
Peace beyond measure
Shall crown thee with vicissitude of
Pleasure.
Play well thy game, and so will Heav'n extend
His liberal grace, and bless thee in the End.
MEditation we may fitly call
The
Souls Arithmetitian, summing all
Our
sins together; Nay, and every day
Cyphers them up, and teaches us to pray;
Then let us meditate, and strive to do
What our
Arithmetitian leads us too.
He that will true
examples learn to give,
First let him learn to
dye, and then to
live:
Prefer the surest first; for
you and
I
Ʋncertain are to
live, but sure to
dye.
MEDITAT. I.
PElion is fallen upon
Ossa's back,
The more I cry for
help, the more I lack.
[Page 64]There's none will look upon
me, how I lie
In the
Charybdis of perplexity.
Escaping
Scylla, O I thought I'd been
Past danger, but Charybdis
was not seen.
MEDITAT. 2.
I'm now benighted, and obscur'd from light,
My
day of pleasure's turn'd into a night
Of
clouded sorrow; Grief comes sailing on,
Steer'd by the hand of my
Rebellion.
Heav'n stop
his passage, may he never rest
Within the harbor of my tender brest.
MEDITAT. 3.
What have
I done? or what have
I deserv'd,
That I am thus imprison'd, and reserv'd
For
death and
sad destruction? Nay, but why,
Why do I ask, what
I have done? To dye,
To dye, 'tis too too little, could a worse,
A worse succeed, I have deserv'd the curse.
MEDITAT. 4.
I have displeased
Heav'n, where shall I fly
To hide my self from his offended
eye?
If
rocks, or
caves, could hide me from my
sin,
There, there I'd go, and hide my self within
[Page 65]The bowels of the
Earth, till Heav'n should say,
The night of sin is gone, and now 'tis day.
MEDITAT. 5.
What if I storm'd
Heav'ns Paradise with prayers,
[...]nd so besieg'd it with an
host of tears?
What if I undermin'd and layd a train
[...] blow it up with sighs? 'twere but in vain:
[...]
storm, besiege, all is but labour spent,
Except I could, as
David did,
Repent.
MEDITAT. 6.
[...]pent: O what a sound that word imports!
[...] how it penetrates! How many sorts
[...]f
Ecchoes answer it! Repent of all;
[...]e that leaves one, repents of none at all.
[...]e that will learn how to repent, and
when,
First let him strive to be a David,
then.
MEDITAT. 7.
[...]nd art thou still disquieted, my
Soul?
[...]ust thou in
God; in God, that doth controul
[...]th
Heav'n and
Earth: 'tis he that must and shal
[...]
fear'd and
honor'd, yea and lov'd withall.
[...]is
he can send
Jobs torments, and his wo;
'Tis we must pray to have his patience too.
MEDITAT. 8.
Fain would I come before my
angry God,
But that my
sinful years still fear the Rod
Of his
Correction, yet appear I must;
Sure, sure he's
merciful, as well as
just:
Cheer up
dejected Soul, and thou shalt see
His mercy's greater then thy sins can be.
MEDITAT. 9.
Can
Heav'n forget himself, or can
he say
That thing o're
night, he cannot do next
day?
Can
friends forget their
children, or deny
Their
dearest blood? or can a
mountain fly?
Heav'n says, he'l be a
Father till the end:
Then he's a fool that doubts so true a friend.
MEDITAT. 10.
A
friend indeed, but how can
I expect
To purchase
friendship by my own
neglect?
For ah, how often hath
Heav'n pleas'd to say,
Ye that are heavy loaden, come away,
And I will give you ease? Alas! but I
Thought sin no burthen, neither thought to dye
MEDITAT. 11.
But now I see the frailty of my
mind;
I thought I was imprison'd, when confin'd
Only one hour to goodness; nay, that hour
I thought a year, until I had the power
To free my self; when freed, I had forgot
What goodness was, as though I'd heard it not.
MEDITAT. 12.
And should I strive to reckon up my
sins,
How can he make an
end, that still
begins?
The sands upon the
Seas, nay, and the hair
Upon my
head, are
Cyphers in compare
Of my
excessive sins, yet
Heav'n can call
Me, as he did the spend-thrift Prodigal.
MEDITAT. 13.
I know my
sins are great, and do increase
Within my
Sion, and disturb my
Peace:
O what am I
(dear Heav'n?) I am thy
creature,
My
sins are great, but yet thy
mercy's greater.
Pardon
(blest Heav'n,) forgive what I have done;
Thou art my Father, own me as thy Son.
MEDITAT. 14.
It is a happiness to scorn the
mirth
Of this confused transitory
Earth:
And
he who is ambitious to create
A happiness, must make the
world his
hate:
Then if self-love appear, we know for what;
We love our selves in truly hating that.
MEDITAT. 15.
Life is the
lifes preparative, and
Death
The deprivation of unconstant
breath.
A well directed
life shall always find
Society in
Death; a glorious mind
Shall have a glorious, a celestial friend
To guard his glory to a glorious end.
MEDITAT. 16.
But can a mind, enammel'd with the
glory
Of
Heav'n, have
end? or else is
Death a story?
Death is the end of
Life, and yet we see
Life is deriv'd from
Deaths soveraigntie.
'Tis quickly known, the
Death of
Sin must give
The para'ned Soul a priviledg to live.
MEDITAT. 17.
Heav'n is the
seat of Happiness, and
Hell
The place of
fury, where the
Furies dwell.
Then mount my
Soul upon the spreading wings
Of lofty
Faith; fly towards the
King of
Kings:
Whilest here thou shalt inhabit, learn to know,
That Heav'n's too high for them that fly too low.
MEDITAT. 18.
I am but sordid
earth, that's dayly plow'd
With
grief and
care; and sorrows hourly croud
Into my weak
dominions, and remain
Like greedy
Tenants, thirsting after gain.
My eyes are always open to behold
New woes, for I am form'd in sorrows mould.
MEDITAT. 19.
I am a reeling
Pinnace, and I sail
From
Port to
Port; sometimes a humble gale
Salutes my
spreading sails, and by and by
The
waves, contemning my prosperity,
Spit in my
face, being hurried by their
tydes,
They seem to crawl into my sweating sides.
MEDITAT. 20.
I am a clouded
day, I promise rain:
Sometimes I'm stormy, and then clear again;
Sometimes the
Sun of Pence begins t'appear,
But cannot shine in sorrows
Hemisphere:
Saddest of thoughts; needs must he be distrest
That finds unconstant weather in his brest.
MEDITAT. 21.
I am a
vapor, having not the power
T'endure the fervor of one shining
hour:
Vapors cannot withstand a
mid-days heat;
Afflictions must be hot, where
sins are great:
'Tis not unlike, a misty morning may
Oft-times prove usher to a glorious day.
MEDITAT. 22.
I am a
trembling reed, and every day
The
wind and
I are subject to a fray:
I'm bruis'd, and shall be broken, if some hand
Sustain me not, I shall forget to stand▪
But stay my
Soul, and hear Jehovah speak,
I vow, the bruised reed I will not break.
MEDITAT. 23.
I am but
earth, corrupted with my deeds,
Which are but like unprofitable weeds;
My
soil is rank and barren, and it bears
No
grain at all, no not so much as
tears:
Wouldst thou increase (my Soul,) I'le teach thee how,
Sow but the seeds of Faith, God speeds the plow.
MEDITAT. 24.
Despair not, when
affliction plows the ground,
Doubt not
increases, if the seed be found:
Heav'n loves a
fruitful harvest, and his hand
Is always
active to manure the
Land;
He takes the chiefest care, the greatest pains,
He crowns the work, 'tis we that reap the gains.
MEDITAT. 25.
Man's like a
house, whose outward beauty may
Yield pleasure to the eye; If we survey
The inward
rooms, there we may find enough
Of untrim'd
natures sluttish
houshold-stuff.
Wouldst thou be fair within (O man,) and neat,
Turn but thy inside out, thou'lt be compleat.
MEDITAT. 26.
Do greedy
Ravens hunger? do they cry
For
food? and are they
fed? and must not
I?
I
beg, I
crave, and yet am hungry still;
I
pine, I
starve, and
Ravens have their fill.
I know
(great God) I have offended
thee,
Because thou seed'st the Ravens, and not me.
MEDITAT. 27.
Do
Lillies flourish? do they still remain
Neatly adorn'd? and yet they take no pain;
They neither
spin nor
card, they take no care,
And yet they're cloth'd, and
I, poor
I, go bare.
I know (great God) I have offended thee,
Because thou cloth'st the Lillies, and not me.
MEDITAT. 28.
Why am I thus tormented with the
Rod
Of my
afflictions? Hath my angry
God
Forgot his
creature? Shall I never have
A little ease, but be
affliction's slave?
Forbear, my
grumbling Soul, cheer up, and be
Mindful of him, and he'l remember thee.
MEDITAT. 29.
And why does
Heav'n afflict me, but because
He'l make me know
my self, and learn his
Laws.
Then why am I disquieted? If
he
Intends my
good, shall I prove
enemie
Unto
my self? My
Soul, take
care, be still,
Ʋnless he turns that good into an ill.
MEDITAT. 30.
Then learn,
my soul, when
Heav'n afflicts, to know
'Tis for thy
sins he does it, and to show
The greatness of his
mercy, and to make
Thee love
affliction for the
Afflictors sake.
Be
wise and
provident, and thou shalt see,
'Twas good for David,
'twill be good for thee.
MEDITAT. 31.
If thou wilt learn,
my Soul, how to endure,
With patience, thy
afflictions, be thou sure,
That when the hand of angry
Heav'n shall smite,
Thou dost not grumble like the
Israelite.
Strive thou for patience, heav'n wil teach thee how
To bear affliction with a cheerful brow.
MEDITAT. 32.
What though the
waves of thy
afflictions rise,
And rage abundantly? lift up thy
eyes,
And cry to
Heav'n, let patience calm thy mind,
And know that purest
gold must be refin'd,
And when
affliction brings thee to the brink
Of death, remember Peter
did not sink.
MEDITAT. 33.
When I consider how I have offended
My Souls dread
Soveraign, and
vili-pended
His gracious promises, I much admire
He casts me not into eternal fire:
But he in
mercy makes me kiss his Rod,
Tells me, I am a creature, he a God.
MEDITAT. 34.
Consider well,
my Soul, why hast thou breath,
Since that the wages of thy
Sins are
death?
Thou hast deserv'd ten thousand times to dye,
But that thy
GOD, whose mercy doth deny
A
Sinners death, reprieves thee for a time,
To make thee know the greatness of thy crime.
MEDITAT. 35.
O meditate, my
Soul, what
Heav'n hath done
For thee, that art his most
rebellious Son;
He hath prolong'd thy days, and striv'd to win
And draw thee from the lothsomness of
sin.
Admired patience! O indulgent care!
Mercy of Mercies! how can Heav'n forbear!
MEDITAT. 36.
Have
I offended? and shall
I despair?
Oh no,
I dare not: Ah my
Soul, forbear
To harbor such a wickedness; but know,
When thy
sins ebb, Gods
mercies overflow:
His mercy is an
Ocean, and thy prayer
Is th' only wind can raise a tempest there.
MEDITAT. 37.
Then pray my
Soul, and let thy
prayers reveal
Thy bosom
sins; O think not to conceal
A crime from him, that is the
God of Truth,
And knows the
sins of thy offending
youth:
Ah know my
Soul, the more thou striv'st to smother
Thy sins, the more one sin begets another.
MEDITAT. 38.
Can
Sin, the Souls consuming
Viper, lie,
And
lurk secure, from
Heav'ns all seeing
eye?
O no, 'tis vain to think so; though that we
Are muffl'd up with
sin, yet
Heav'n can see.
O then confess
my Soul, and thou shalt tread,
And trample on the Vipers poys'ny head.
MEDITAT. 39.
But can
Confession in it self obtain
An absolute
forgiveness? Can we gain
Heav'n by a
sigh? O no, my
Soul express
A perfect
sorrow, when thou dost
confess,
Then let resolved
Constancy endure,
And thou, my Soul, shalt truly rest secure.
MEDITAT. 40.
Dost thou, my
Soul, desire to be partaker
Of those celestial joys, wherewith thy
Maker
Crowns those
endeavoring Souls, which study still
To be obedient to his sacred Will?
Examine well the
Scriptures, they will show
The ready way; then practise how to go.
MEDITAT. 41.
Let thy
innocuous Meditations be
Serious and
fervent, let
integritie
Still wait upon
them, which will still defend
And guard thy
actions to a prosperous end:
Then shall thy labors have a peaceful rest;
Then dayly labor to be dayly blest.
MEDITAT. 42.
But have a
care (my
Soul) left
malice chance
To interpose it
self, and so advance
Above thy
patience, and disturb that
peace
Which might have blest thee with a large
increase.
O have a
care this be no fault of thine!
Remember who hath said, Vengeance is mine.
MEDITAT. 43.
Dost thou desire, my
Soul, that
Heav'n should say,
Thy
pardon's seal'd, and I will blot away
Thy numerous
sins; nay, and I will no more
Remember them, as I have done before?
Then learn, my
Soul, to know, whilest thou dost live,
He that will be forgiven, must forgive.
MEDITAT. 44.
If thou wouldst go to
Heav'n, my Soul, go on,
(Not as the
sluggard of wise
Solomon,)
Be not so timerous
as he, to say,
There is a
Lion lurking in the way:
Go on with
courage, let the way delight thee,
Then shall the Lion grumble, and not bite thee.
MEDITAT. 45.
The
wise man saith, that
sluggards shall be cloth'd
With rags, and all his
actions shall be loth'd;
And he that's willing to obtain a
prize,
Must be laborious, and have
watchful eyes;
(My drouzy Soul) make Heav'n thy prize, then strain
T'out-run thy sins, and so thou shalt obtain.
MEDITAT. 46.
When on the ladder
Jacob did discry
The
Angels in his dream, he saw them fly
Ʋpwards and
downwards, which was to express
How much they scorn'd and hated
Idleness:
Then learn, my
Soul, how to ascend apace
From sin, to the perfection of grace.
MEDITAT. 47.
What was the reason
Peter wept? Nay, why
Did he go out and weep so bitterly?
Could he not weep within? Did he not dare
Before the wicked to disburse a tear?
By this example
Peter makes it known,
Who truly grieves, desires to grieve alone.
MEDITAT. 48.
Hast thou my Soul, with persecuting
Paul,
Envy'd the
Church? Hast thou conspir'd her
fall?
Why then my
Soul wilt thou despair? 'Tis true,
The
crime is great, and
GOD is gracious too.
A
light may shine from
Heav'n, and thou shalt be,
With Paul, converted from thy Tyrannie.
MEDITAT. 49.
Hast thou, with thrice-denying
Peter, cry'd,
I know him not, but stubbornly deny'd
The
Lord of Life? what then? the
Cock may crow,
God may look back upon
thee, and bestow
His liberal blessings: Then my Soul deny
Thy sins, with Peter,
and weep bitterly.
MEDITAT. 50.
But was it not,
my Soul, a sad disaster,
That
Peter should so soon deny his
Master,
For whose dear sake led lose his life? O what
A sudden change is this, I know
him not!
Nay more, as if he thought this would not do,
He binds it with an oath, forswears him too.
MEDITAT. 51.
What was the reason that the
Lions, when
They entertained
Daniel in their
Den,
Did rather
fear, then hunger? Nay, how can
Destroying
Lions fawn upon a
man?
My Soul, there was a
Lamb that tam'd the
Lion
And made the Den prove Daniels
safest Sion.
MEDITAT. 52.
Advise
my Soul, and how could
Daniel live,
Impris'ned in the
Den, and none to give
Him dayly
food? How could he rest at quiet,
Without th' enjoyment of some
slender diet?
When
Heav'n commands his Angels, they shal fe
[...]
A Soul; (my Soul) that Soul can never nee
[...]
MEDITAT. 53.
'Twas
Faith that guarded
Daniel from the paws
Of dauntless
Lions, whose imperious jaws
Were ty'd by
Heav'ns appointment, so that they
Forgot their
Tyranny, and learn'd to play.
(My Soul) with
Daniel, truly think upon
Thy God, and Faith shall be thy Champion.
MEDITAT. 54.
Did great
Goliah fall? Could he not stand,
That was so strong, against so weak a hand?
Could not his
armour, nor his
storming power
Maintain so mean a
Combate half an hour?
Here, here (my Soul) observe, and thou shalt find
An armed body, but a naked mind.
MEDITAT. 55.
But how did stripling
David dare to show
His
childish face before so great a
foe?
He had no
armour on, nor
sword to shield
His
body, yet he
fought, and won the
field.
Here, here (my Soul) observe, and thou shalt fin
[...]
A naked body, but an armed mind.
MEDITAT. 56.
Be sure (my Soul) when e're thou shalt begin
To
war with the
Goliah of thy
sin,
Take
Davids armour, and thou shalt or'ethrow
Thy
sin with a most
advantagious blow.
Boast not too much, but with bold courage fight;
The pebble-stones of Faith fly always right.
MEDITAT. 57.
Faith is the arm of
safety, which defends
The
Soul from all
approaching harm, and lends
A
sword to fight with
Satan, who may venter
To make a thrust or two, but cannot enter.
Gain thou this arm of Faith (my Soul,) and then
Thou mayst out-dare a Lion in his Den.
MEDITAT. 58.
Learn how to prize thy Faith (my Soul,) and know
She is thy only safety here below:
She is a trusty buckler to protect thee
From showres of evil, and to good direct thee.
Then rouze my
Soul, and be not quite cast down,
Repentance brings in Faith, and Faith a Crown.
MEDITAT. 59.
A Crown, that's only fitting to adorn
A Princes brow; and Subjects that are born
To an inferior fortune, must content
Themselves with that, which fortune freely lent.
But ah my Soul! be wise, and understand,
A heavenly Crown's not made by humane hand.
MEDITAT. 60.
A glorious
Crown of Glory shall attend
Attentive hearts;
my Soul, I recommend
This
Crown to thee: consider but the price
It cost, and then remember
Paradise:
Remember whose dear blood did trickle down,
Like tedious showrs, to purchase thee this Crown.
MEDITAT. 61.
O boundless
Love! would such a
Lamb as he
Dye for such wolf-like
sycophants as we?
His
willing Soul did even joy t'express
This introduction to our happiness.
His blood gush'd out to wash us clean within:
He shed it for our sins, and yet we sin.
MEDITAT. 62.
Rouze up my
Soul, and let thy
Eagle-eyes
Behold that
Sun in whom thy
safety lies:
Look well upon
him and thou shalt discover
A
Lamb-like Patience, and a
constant Lover.
Admire with how much Dove-like innocence
He suffer'd death for us that gave th'offence.
MEDITAT. 63.
Art thou not ravish'd yet, my
Soul? then hear,
And I will recommend unto thy ear
The willing
Passion of that
Lamb, which cry'd
Eloi, Eloi, Eloi, and so dy'd:
And by the vertue of his dying deed,
Our blood was stop'd, when he began to bleed.
MEDITAT. 64.
Man, the unhappy off-spring of that
man
Of
Sin, at whose beginning we began
To fall from our first principles, and stray
From
good to
bad, digressing from the way
Of our assur'd
Salvation, and exchange
A
world of pleasure for a
world of pains;
And by that Heaven-forbidden
taste, reverst
The stroke of
mercy, made us all accurst,
[Page 85]And hourly subject to his
wrath, whose
power
Created us, and made us little lower
Then Heav'n-bred
Angels; till the sad
inventions
Of
Satans malice quickned the
intentions
Of greedy
Eve, whose hand soon recommended
That
fruit, which by the
Serpent was extended,
To her beguiled
husband, whose neglect
Of Heav'ns Commands purchas'd a dull aspect
From his revengeful
brow, which shin'd more bright
Then glorious
Cynthia in her greatest light.
But ah, the cloud of
Adams sin had made
A great eclipse: Poor
Adam is betray'd
By his own
folly, and condemn'd to crawl
Upon his
belly, and gulp up the
gall
Of his
transgressions; Having thus offended,
He's thrown from
Paradise, and
vili-pended
By Heav'n: But all this while the
Serpent sits
Ravish'd with laughter, tut'ring still his wits
To further
mischief; having found success
In his first
enterprize, doubts nothing less
Then what he hopes for; having thus o'rethrown
The first man
Adam, thinks that all's his own:
But that our
God, whose all-commanding power
Can mortifie, and quicken in one hour,
Was fill'd with
pity, pitied
man whose state
He saw was miserably desperate;
Begun to view him with a gracious
eye,
And invocates his sacred
Trinity:
And thus proceeds.—
Made wretched
man, man made to glorifie
My
name, and given to his thriftless hand
Preheminency both by Sea and Land?
And shall I not be honor'd? Am I not
A mindful
God? And shall I be forgot
By slothful
man? Have I not gave him
light
In spight of
darkness, and shall he requite
My favours thus? Nay more, have I not fram'd
And stamp'd him with my
Image, and proclaim'd
A lasting greatness to him? And shall
they
Be thus obdurate now, that were but
clay
Before I gave them
breath? and shall that
breath
Contemn, defie, and scorn me to the
death?
Is this the
honor which I did expect
From them? Is this the
duty? this th'
effect
Of all my
labors? Speak my dearest
Son,
What shall we do with
man that hath undone
His wretched
self? My
fury burns to be
Reveng'd on
man for his
iniquitie.
Break forth my restless
fury, and devour
That loathed thing call'd
man, give him no power
To call me
Father; whil'st abused
I
Will stop my
ears, and scorn to hear him cry:
Begone, enact my pleasure.
The
Son reply'd; Oh stop! Oh stay, my
dear,
My dearest
Father! Let thy sacred
ear
Stand open but one minute, that poor
man
May strive to plead, and utter what he can
[Page 87]For his own self. Alas my
Son, I know
The more he strives to speak, the more he'l show
His
guilt; And ah! what answer can he make
To angry
I, that am resolv'd to take
Speedy
revenge? The more he strives to clear
Himself, the more he'l make his
guilt appear.
Begone my
fury, run till thou art spent;
Away, away, and give my
passion vent,
Vent it on
man. My angry
Father, stay
A little longer, hear what I will say
In mans behalf: Oh, is not
man thy creature?
His
sins are not so great, but
thou art greater
In
mercy: Oh be merciful, and let
(If nothing will) my
blood discharge the debt:
I'le freely give it, may this Blood of mine
Extinguish quite those angry
flames of thine.
Oh be appeas'd, and give me leave to strive
Against the power of
Satan, and deprive
Him of his man-deluding power: I'le charm
His rav'ning
malice, and withhold his
arm
From hurting
man: Nay, and I'le undergo
As many
sorrows, as the world can show,
For
man thy
Image: Say the word, and I
Will go, nay run, for joy, that I must dye
For
mans Redemption. Dearest
Son, then go,
Redeem relapsed
man, that he may owe
An endless debt. But say, my
Son, should he,
For whom thou dy'st, revile, dishonor thee,
And trample in thy
precious blood, and make
That
blood prove
poyson to him, that should take
[Page 88]The venom of his sins away? I'le strive,
The
Holy Ghost reply'd, to make
man thrive,
And grow in grace; I'le teach him to express
No feigned, but a real thankfulness.
O Soul-transporting
Joy! O truest
Love
Without a
period! O innoxious
Dove!
Could'st thou,
thou Lamb of God, be thus content
To step from Heav'n, and take that punishment
Upon thy
patient self, which appertain'd
To
Heaven provoking man, man that was stain'd
And blur'd with sin, whose spots could never be
Wash'd out
(blest Lamb) by any but by thee?
Had'st
thou not interpos'd, our Souls had bin
Imbowel'd in the
Ocean of our
Sin:
And hadst
thou not sustain'd us, we had fell,
And swelter'd in the restless
flames of Hell.
Hadst thou not look'd upon our sad
condition,
And pitied us, to see what
expedition
We made to our own
ruines, we had lost
The
hopes of our
Salvation, which cost
An unknown price: 'Twas not a swelling
flood
Of heap'd up
gold redeem'd us, but thy
blood,
Thy precious blood, which flow'd like hasty
tides
In great abundance, from thy wounded
sides.
Start from the
bed of Sin (my
Soul,) and run
To view the
splendor of this glorious
Sun:
See how
he wrastles with the
gloomy clouds
Of our
transgressions; See how
he unshrouds
Himself: On see what pains he undergoes,
To prove himself our
friend, that were his
foes.
[Page 89]Methinks I hear a throng of people cry,
Let
Barabbas be freed, let's crucifie
This
Jewish King; let's lead him to his
death,
'Tis pity he should draw a minutes
breath.
Methinks I see how his weak
hands are bound
With twisted
cords: Methinks I see
him crown'd
with sharpned
thorns: Methinks I see them, how
They worship
him with a dissembled
bow.
Methinks I see the
gazing people run
To see the
glorious setting of this
Sun.
Methinks I see his gentle
feet divide
Their measur'd paces, to be crucify'd.
Methinks I see how his delightful
face
Seems to receive an
honor by
disgrace.
Methinks I see how his Heav'n-fixed
eyes
Do overlook his raging
enemies.
Methinks I see his
spear-inviting brest
Willingly ready to receive the rest
Of their intended
malice; How his
palms
(Like one that gives, and not receives an alms)
Are spread abroad, which truly verifies
With what a chearful willingness he dyes.
Methinks I see how his connexed feet
Salute the
Cross, as if they joy'd to meet
With so, so fast a
friend. Methinks I see
With what a Heav'n-infus'd reluctancie
He entertains their blows, as if he found
A
lively comfort in each
deadly wound.
Methinks I see his bubbling
veins, how they
Swell up a little, and then shrink away,
[Page 90]And hide themselves, as if they had exprest
(For the departure of so warm a guest)
A secret
grief; till conquering
death exil'd
Life from the
body of that
Lamb, that
Child,
That
Son of God, in whom true
joys reside;
Who lives by dying, and by living dy'd.
Quis miserior quàm qui suam nescit miseriam?
DO I not dayly see that nothing can
Be so unstable as the
state of
man?
Do I not see how
fortune can correct
Misfortune; and as suddenly neglect
Poor helpless
man? Sometimes his thoughts are crown'd
With golden joys, and sometimes kiss the ground:
Somtimes he's fil'd with laughter, somtims weeps;
Sometimes he walks in state, and somtimes creeps.
A morning joy proves sometimes grief at night,
For fortunes dyal goes not always right.
'Tis vain, 'tis vain; and ah that I could weep
My self into a deluge, and so steep
My cheeks in tears: Oh that I could imbark
My naked
Soul, and swim like
Noah's Ark
In that grand
Ocean, which my flowing eyes
Have made, and overlook my miseries!
[Page 91]Distemp'red
thoughts, why do you thus torment
My yeelding
Soul? why does my
Soul relent?
Why am I thus afflicted? why doth
sorrow
Take an advantage of my
Soul, and borrow
Quotidian plagues, and study how to make
My heart its
Theater? How shall I shake
These coupling
fetters from my captiv'd
heart?
How shall I bid adue to
grief, and part?
Where shall I run, and labor to unsnare
My breasts inhabitant? Oh how, or where
Shall I retire my self! In what sad
place
Shall I deplore my miserable
case?
Could I but find a place where I might dwell,
And only see the
Sun, I'd bid farewel
To all
false pleasures.
For now my
Soul still hovers to and fro
From places to place: sometimes it flies too low;
Sometimes, with more aspiring
wings, it flies,
And envies at
impossibilities:
Then back again, and with a seeming
mirth
Surveys the
center of this flattering
Earth.
And thus my
Soul, being left in this sad
being,
Agrees in nothing else but
disagreeing:
My
ways are pav'd with
thorns; I take my
diet
From
sorrows table, furnish'd with
disquiet:
I am the principle of
grief; my
eyes,
Like windows, open to all
miseries:
My
head's a fountain, and from thence doth flow
The headlong rivers of unbridled
woe.
[Page 92]My
sighs, like sudden storms, disturb my
rest,
As if I had a
Boreas in my
brest.
Needs must I be molested in my
dreams,
My
heart's the receptacle of all
streams:
Then blame me not, if
sorrow makes me cry;
Sum all
misfortune up, and that am I.
But stay my
thoughts; post not away too fast:
Extreams are dangerous, and cannot last.
A sudden
thought hath made me to confess,
I may be happy in
unhappiness.
And what's a
thought? 'tis but a sudden puff;
Yet many may confound, when one's enough.
Come let's repose, and make a little stay,
Our
Sun's sufficient to adorn a day.
Why should I wander in the darksom
shades
Of my own
errors, whilest a
grief invades
My
naked senses? 'Tis in vain to strive
Against the
power of God, who can contrive
What pleases him: Why shall I then repine
At what he sends? Can
wretched I confine
His
will to mine? Oh no; He suffers well,
Whose
suffrings tell him there's no other
Hell
But in this
world: Who would not then endure
Terrestrial torment, that he may procure
Celestial pleasures? Sorrow brings no
loss
To him whose
patience can sustain a
cross.
Hereafter I will labor to prevent
A little Sorrow by a great Content.
Surgit post nubila Phoebus.
WHen
gloomy clouds surround the
lofty skie
It is an argument a
storm is nigh:
But when the
Sun's eclipsed from our sight,
We must not judg an
everlasting night
Will then ensue: 'Tis danger to distrust
A
God that is so
merciful, so
just.
The greatest
sin that
Satan can declare
Against a
guilty Soul, is
sad despair.
What though the
clouds of Earth shall interpose
Betwixt a
Soul and
Heaven? the wind blows
Not always in one place; one
happy hour
May breed a
calm, and qualifie a
showre.
Some greedy
Lawyers, when their
Clyents stoek
Is almost spent, rewards him with a
mock:
The
Counsellor of Heav'n gives more content
To a poor
sinner, when his
breath is spent:
Accepts the
will, although his
tongue be mute;
He seldom keeps him seven years in a
suite:
He's free in
mercy, and he takes delight
To end a
suite, when
sorrow makes it right:
God is not like to them that take a pride
In others
griefs: when
tears begin to slide,
His
mercy falls; he cannot brook delay,
But meets a
sinners language half the way.
His
ears are always open to let in
A
sinners prayers, when he lets out his
sin.
[Page 94]What thogh I have transgrest, what tho my
crime
Appear like
mountains? mountains oftentimes
Sink lower; nay, and God can pardon all
As well as one: for be they
great or
small,
They all are
sins: shrubs grow as well as
trees;
Gods mercy will admit of no
degrees.
He that distrusts his
God shall always find
A
clouded conscience, and a
stormy mind.
Seven days had run, before God had attyr'd
The
World with
order, yet he was not tyr'd:
And shall we then expect to climb so high
As
Heav'n, in half an hour, or else deny
So blest a labour? No,
perhaps to day
We keep the road, to morrow lose the way.
Contenta vita est summa foelicitas.
WHat is this
world? A looking-glass, wherein
We see the
body, nay the
face of
Sin.
What's
Wealth? what's
Honor! Transitory
toys.
What's
Mirth? what's
Pleasure? Melancholy
joys.
Honor is
Envy's object;
Riches, they
Are but the
subjects of a
frowning day.
Beauty's a slave to
Time, and fond
delight
Teaches the
morning how to fool the
night.
[Page 95]Were I a
Midus, could my
towers of
wealth
Protect my
person, or preserve my
health?
Were I a
Cesar, could wy
honors save
My crazy
carkass from the gaping
grave?
Were I as fair as
Venus, could my
beauty
Acquit me from that necessary duty
I owe to
change? If so, I'd honor
pleasure,
And hug my
honor, and rejoyce in
treasure.
If I had
riches, they might make me fly
Upon the wings of
prodigality.
If I had
honor, that might make me dance
Ambition a
Corranto, and advance
My self above my self: If
beauty were
At my command, then might I chance t'insnare
The
wantons of the
world; nay, and intice
Vertue to change it self into a
vice.
Now tell me
Earth, where are those
smooth delights
Thou often boasts of? are thy
golden nights
Chang'd into
leaden days? Oh tell me then!
Why dost thou so befool the
sons of men?
Who, following thee, consume their precious
time,
And are at last rewarded with a
crime.
Content, that well-advised word imports
A Crown of Happiness: All joy resorts
Into the
palace of a blest
content,
And there resides.
Content is golden ey'd, and can behold
A
dunghill with as much respect as
gold.
Content's a Jewel; but here lies the
art,
Which way to hang it in a
restless heart.
[Page 96]Much have I heard of that
rich stone, which all
Are pleas'd t'entitle,
Philosophical;
And
Fame reports, that many
wits have try'd,
T'obtain it, and before obtain'd it, dy'd,
And lost their
eager hopes; nay, what is worse,
Left a rich
study, but a poorer
purse:
And to conclude,
experience made it known,
Had they not lost Content, they'd found the Stone.
Pax una triumpha est.
PEace is the life of
Happiness, and
Strife
A living
Death unto a dying
Life:
Envy's the
child of
Srife, and pregnant
Peace
Is an indulgent
Mother, whose encrease
Adorns the Earth:
Peace is a
Turtle Dove,
Compos'd of nothing but the
purest Love.
What's
martial triumph▪ but a little blaze,
Which now aspires, and by and by decays?
What
triumph is't, to see the
shivered bones
Of
breathless men, and hear th'
impetuous groans
Of those whose
feeble tongues invite a
death
To dispossess them of their
loathed breath?
Sad are th' effects of
War, and yet this age
Esteems not
Peace, but lets
Contention rage
Into a
madness: Oh unhappy
State,
Where
Strife's desir'd too soon, &
Peace too late
[Page 97]Soul-calming
Peace, and heart-corroding
Strife
Live here like
Factors, both for
death and
life.
It is a sacred
Jubilee, to hear
Soft-breathing
Peace, chanting in every ear
Rare strains of
Heav'n-bred raptures, which express
Full
Diapasons of our
happiness:
But 'tis a
dying life to see, that
bliss
Should, by a
hellish metamorphosis,
Be thus transhap'd to
Strife: There's no
prevention,
Abused
Peace perverts into
contention.
And can the
Diamond of
Amity,
If once dissevered in pieces, be
Compos'd again?
Experience makes us find,
'Tis quickly broken, but not quickly joyn'd.
Oh
Peace! Can we expect thy blest
return,
If we, whose flaming envies dayly burn
Thy name within the
Aetna's of our brests,
Do make thee subject to our vile detests?
'Tis often seen,
Cantharides do dwell
Upon the
fairest Rose, whose pleasing smell
Delights the
sense: It may be truly said,
Envy, that base
Cantharides, hath laid
It self upon the
Roses of our
Peace,
And rob'd us of a liberal
encrease.
Have not our eyes in former times beheld
The fruits of
Peace? have not our
Souls been fil'd
With
heav'nly pleasures, and our grasping hands
Gather'd the
plenty of our
peaceful Lands?
Did not the painful
husbandman bestow
His
labors with a
cheerful brow, and sow
[Page 98]The
often-furrowed earth? But now, ah now,
Intruding
Mars molests the active
plough!
And have not we by sad
experience found
Contentious
Mars plows
bodies, & not
ground?
O miserable
tillage! This will bring
A bloody
Harvest, and as bad a
Spring.
See smiling
Bacchus, with his brim-fill'd
bowls,
Would tempt us to carouze away our
Souls.
Mars with a palled look proclaims an end
To all our
pastimes: Sorrow knows no friend.
Mars thunders,
Bacchus smiles, and
Cupid cries,
Envy survives,
Truth pines, and
Friendship dies.
Peace flies her
Country, and with
discontent
Bemoans our
sorrows, and her
banishment.
And thus we tumble in our own
confusion;
A bad beginning findes a bad conclusion.
AN ELEGIE Upon the Death of my dear Friend M
r ROBERT REASON Who quitted this life the 13. NOVEMBER,
1646. —Sic voluêre Fata.
By J.Q.
AH, whence proceed those
swelling floods that rise
Like
restles waves frō my
tempestuous eys?
The
surges beat (provok'd by stormy passion)
My weather-beaten
senses out of fashion.
But ah forbear (distemp'ring
grief) surcease
Those
storms, which rage against the shore of
peace ▪
Forbear superfluous
blasts, be not too brief
To dash my
Soul against the rocks of
grief:
But stop a time (sad
Genius) here's a
stile
Invites a
rest; Let's meditate a while:
Can
tears express a perfect
grief? Or can
Excess of
language re-inlarge a
man
[Page 126]From
Death-benumming shades? Can blubber'd eyes
Invite him back? Can integrating
cries
Enforce a
life, in spight of
death? Can all
The doleful
sighings in this world recall
Revolted
breath? Oh no: 'Tis therefore vain
To think that
tears can call him back again
From
Heav'ns immortalizing Throne: Thus we
Fond men expand our own infirmitie;
And thus our spend-thrift eyes profusely flow
In lavish
tears, for him whose
Soul we know
Is far more happy then we can express:
(Why do we then lament his
happiness?)
Then go (sad
Genius) and advise all such
That grieve, to grieve, because they grievd so much
For him, who
Heav'n hath lately made a stranger
To
grief, who rests above the reach of danger;
There let him rest in a most
glorious sleep:
And if weak
Nature urgeth us to weep,
Let's weep, nay weep indeed, until our eyes,
Blinded with weeping, weep for new supplies:
Let's weep for
sin, let troops of
sighs attend
Our hasty tydes to their long journeys end.
Oh let's deplore our most unhappy
state
Betimes, for fear lest time-devouring
fate
Blocks up the narrow passage of our
breath,
And so surprize us with a sudden
Death▪
And ah how soon the
shadow-flying days
Of man consumes: how soon the troubled blaze
Of his frail
life expires; and ah how soon
He finds a
night, before he thinks 'tis
noon:
[Page 127]And how the
pleasures of this sordid
Earth
Shadow his
senses with a
glimmering mirth.
And what's this world? 'tis but a glass, wherein
Nothing appears but
Heav'n-confronting sin:
Alas, its
painted beauty represents
Nothing but
folly, crown'd with
discontents:
There's nothing here that truly may be stil'd
A
happiness; here's nothing but's defil'd.
Alas, alas, in what a sad condition
Is
dust-composed man! what expedition
He daily makes to gain those things, which gain'd,
Gnaw him like
vipers; thus are
mortals stain'd
And blur'd with vanities; and thus they spend
Their
winged hours, as if they could not end:
Fond
Earths-consuming trash hath so combin'd
Their hearts to
worldly pleasures, that they mind
Nothing but profit, basely gain'd, which shall
Mount them up here, but after let them fall.
But where's that
man, whose
Soul contrives to be
Imparadis'd, and crown'd with
dignitie,
With
Hallelujahs Angels, which controul
The Family of
Heav'n, who still inroul
In their sublimer thoughts, how
great, how
just
Their
Maker is, before whose
throne all must
Appear with spotless
Souls, and fly from hence
With downy wings of
Dove-like innocence?
But stay my
quill; have I thus soon forgot
My
bosom friend, as if I lov'd him not?
No, no; though he be dead, he cannot dye,
Death cannot drive him from my
memory,
[Page 128]Where he shall rest, till time shall recommend
My
friend-bereaved Soul unto my
friend;
For whilest he liv'd, my
sympathizing heart
Was truly
his, and truly bore a part
In what he suffer'd; Ah but now he's fled,
And left me here, to say,
my friend is dead.
Poor
soul! and why poor
soul? rash tongue, call back
That fond abortive word; how can he lack,
That dayly feeds upon
delicious dyet
In
Heav'ns great
store house, and knows no
disquiet?
This was an Error that my hasty
quill
Too rashly stept into against my will:
I hope 'tis venial, Reason may afford
A pardon for a grief-relapsed word.
When
passion rules the
fancy, men become
Vainly
Pragmatick, or extreamly dumb:
But why
rash death, why didst thou send thy
dart
To take possession of his
willing heart,
And gave no longer warning? was there none
Could please thy
pallate, only him alone?
'Twas quickly ended, and as soon begun;
Believe me
death, 'twas but unfriendly done.
But why do I (fond man) expostulate
With thee, that art an
all-consuming fate?
Th' ast done a happy deed, I dare not blame
Thy
power, because I know from whence it came.
Shall I, because he was my friend, repine
At his
departure? was he
Heav'ns or
mine?
I yield him
Heav'ns, not
mine; but yet I might
Claim him as finite,
Heav'n as infinite.
And others by his
life might learn to dye:
Whilest he enjoy'd the
fulness of his
breath,
His
life was a preparative for
death:
His whole delight and study was to pry
Into the bosom of
Divinity;
From whence he suck'd such wholesom streams, that those
Which heard him, gave a
plaudit to his close:
His dayly practice was, how to fulfil
And prosecute his
great Redeemers will:
Heav'n was his
Meditation, and he gave
A reverent respect unto his grave:
Faith, Hope, and
Charity did sweetly rest
Within the
Counsel-chamber of his
brest;
And in a word, the
graces did agree
To make one
happy Soul, and this was he:
As for his
moral duties, they were such,
That should I strive, I could not speak too much:
His
civil carriage towards all men might claim
A perfect
right to a beloved
name:
His
actions were so just, that they may tell,
He liv'd uprightly, and he dy'd as well:
His
love, his sweet
society might call
Ten thousand
tears t'attend his
funeral:
And to conclude, in him all men might find
A
real heart, and a most
noble mind:
But now he's gone, his
winged Soul's aspir'd
To
Heav'ns high Palace, where he sits attir'd
With
glorious immortality, and sings
Melodious Anthems to the
King of
Kings.
[Page 130]There, there his melting
Soul, ravish'd to see
The
Sun-bright throne of splendent
Majestie,
Adores his wel-pleas'd
maker, who makes known
He's pleas'd to crown, and keep him for his own:
Oh there he rests, free from the rubs of Earth,
Hugging no
shadow, but a real
mirth:
Oh there's no
grief, no
sorrow found to vex
His
peaceful Soul ▪ no
trouble to perplex,
Or blast his
new-bred joys; there is no
woe,
No
care, no
pain, no
misery, no
foe,
That dare presume to interrupt him; all
Must stand aloof, and not appear, nor shall
Incroaching bold-fac'd
grief, nor pale-fac'd
spight
Dare interpose t'eclipse one blaze of light.
Oh there methink I hear him sweetly sing,
Grave, where's thy power? Oh Death where's thy sting?
Methinks I hear his warbling tongue declare,
How good his works, how great his wonders are:
Methinks I see a great united
Band
Of glitt'ring
Angels, how prepar'd they stand
To welcom
him: Methinks I hear them say,
March on
blest Soul, thou need'st not doubt the way.
Oh
glorious sight! In what triumphing
state
They guard his
Soul to
Heav'ns refulgent gate;
Where when he comes disrob'd of all his
sin,
The
gates fly open, and his
Soul flies in.
Methinks my
ravish'd ears are fill'd and blest
With such
harmonious raptures, and possest
With such
varieties, that even I,
Were
sin absolved, would resolve to dye.
[Page 131]Methinks I hear within
Heav'ns Ecchoing Grove
The
quavering Angels chant, as if they strove
T'excel themselves: Methinks that every
breath
Is a sweet
Invitation unto
death.
But oh what rare, or what profound
invention,
Beatifi'd with a strong apprehension,
Can sound the depth of those
delights, which he
Shall swim and bathe in to
Eternitie:
There rest
dear Soul, having thus conquer'd
fate,
Thy pleasures never shall expire their
date.
There, there the
Alpha of thy joys shall never
Know an
Omega, but be blest for ever
With
Alpha and
Omega, who shall crown
Thy
throne-approaching Soul with true renown,
Whilest we confused
mortals here below
Gulp up the
dregs of sorrow, and bestow
Curses in stead of
prayers upon each other,
And dayly labour to confuse, and smother
Our
serene happiness, and turn those
joys
Which
Heav'n allow'd us, to neglected
toys:
And thus our deviating
Souls befool
Themselves, and practise in the common School
Of Errors: Thus erroneously we bend
Our
flexive minds to
folly, and commend
Non-sence for
wisdom; Reason being dead,
Repose my Muse, discretion calls to bed.
FINIS.