THE COURT CONVERT.
DEluding
World, which hath so long amus'd,
And with
false Shapes my dreaming
Soul abus'd;
[...]yrannick
Court, where simple
Mortals buy,
With
Life and
Fortune, splendid
Slavery;
[...]ence-forth
Adieu; my goodly Stock of Years,
[...]aid out for that, I now lament with Tears.
Monarchs, who with amazing Splendor glare,
[...]nd
Favorites, who their Reflections are;
[...]oth shine, 'tis true, but 'tis like
Glass they do;
[...]rittle as that, and made of
Ashes too:
The Hour is set, wherein they must disown
The
Royal Pomp, the
Treasure, and the
Throne:
The dazling Lustre of
Majestick State
Shall be extinguish'd by the
Hand of
Fate;
Highness must stoop into the hollow
Grave,
And keep
sad Court in a cold dampish
Cave.
Beauty, and jovial
Youth, decays apace;
Age still, and
Sickness, oft doth both deface,
The
Favorite whom all adore and fear,
Whose Strength doth so unshakable appear,
It's but a Tower built on flitting Sands,
No longer than the
Tempest sleepeth, stands:
Nor can the
Calm of
Fortune long insure;
Or
Monarch's Favour,
crazy Man secure:
We moulder of our selves, and soon or late,
We must
resign beloved Life to Fate.
From stately Palaces we must remove,
The narrow Lodging of a
Grave to prove:
Leave the fair
Train, and the light-guilded
Room,
To lie alone benighted in the
Tomb.
GOD only is Immortal;
Man not so:
Life to be paid, upon demand, we owe.
The rigid
Laws of
Fate, with none dispense,
From the least Beggar, to the greatest Prince.
The crooked
Sythe, that no
Distinction knows,
Monarchs, and
Slaves, indifferently mows.
One Day we'd pity those we now admire,
When after all the Glory they acquire;
When after all the famous Conquests they have made,
Fierce
Death their
Lawrels in the
Dust hath laid.
Those Heads and Hands, which States and Princes steer,
Who
Rule in
Peace, and
Conquer in the War,
Shall, by a sad, and certain Change of
State,
Be doom'd a
Prize to Death, and rigid Fate:
Then be no more; their very
Name will die
To
Fame, unless preserv'd by
History.
'Tis
Heaven's Great KING alone, whom Angels serve
Who does our
Hearts, our
Care, our
Love, deserve;
To HIM all's due, there's nought at our command,
But must be paid at his
Divine Demand:
To HIM the
Christian ought to make his Court,
His
Love the only Matter of Import:
Not, but that
Honour must to Kings be paid,
Being by
Heav'n, Heav'n's
Vicegerents made;
To
such we dedicate our Hearts and Hands,
With due Submission to their
just Commands;
And their
unjust ones, tho we cannot do,
We must the Mulct, with Patience, undergo:
Tis
Sacrilege (in any Case) to pry
[...]nto the
God-like Power of Majesty;
And mere
Typheon insolence to strive,
Law to a
King, with lawless Arms to give.
But all good
Subjects should adore the
Hand,
By which Kings, and the Crowns they wear, do stand;
And while the Earth's great
Master we revere,
Pay Homage also to the
Thunderer;
To GOD, whom
Kings obey; whose Bounty gave
Their
Scepters, Crowns, and all the
Goods they have:
To GOD, whose
Sun-beams guilded Royal State,
And Glory gives to each great
Monarch's Fate;
With whose unknown, but to HIM easy, Skill,
Manages
Powers, and
Princes as HE will.
Now for to get in
favour with this
Prince,
There needs no more, but simple Innocence:
No Honour at his Court is bought with Gold;
But for cheap
Love are all
Preferments sold:
And in proportion to the
Love you bring,
You shall have Power from the KING of Kings:
With a good Stock of
Love there one may climb,
To a
great Fortune, in a little time.
Nor is it hard me-thinks to
love a GOD,
Who is himself so
Loving, and so
Good.
In other Courts a Man doth lose himself,
Oft for a little, and long drudg'd for Pelf;
In Business bearing an uncertain State,
Made void (sometimes) by Envy, or by Hate,
Rendring
Possession of too short a Date.
For as a
Dropsie makes the Body grow,
(At the same time, that it brings
Nature low)
O're-whelm'd with Water, choak'd with Wind,
So
Wealth at once swells up, and starves the Mind;
[...]t GOD, the
Soul's Capacity doth fill;
[...]is Bounty over-flows Man's boundless Will:
[...]nd since the Earth cannot our Nature bless,
[...]nd the great World's too little for the less,
[...]is boundless
Self he gives us, is so good
(As
Romans hold) the
Sacramental Food
[...]o regale us, with's
Body and His
Blood,
With Heavenly
Manna, Angels tasteful Meat,
The same he gave His loving
Twelve to Eat:
[...]imself the
Treater, and Himself the
Treat.
Come all that
Hunger to the
Royal Feast;
Come ev'ry one and wear the
Nuptial Vest:
[...]et the King's Splendor dash, or dazle none;
Or being Mean, discourage any one.
[...]our
Host is known to be as
Meek, as
Great;
And will alike the King and Beggar
treat.
Spare not his Board, you cannot make him poor;
The more he gives, the greater is his
Store:
His
Bounty, like his
Treasure's unconfin'd,
By giving, still to Give the more inclin'd.
Come then, and crowd into his
Royal Court,
And to the Source of Goodness all resort.
Love H I M, whose
Goodness Words cannot express;
And whose
Ail-flowing Bounty is not less;
Lift up your Reason then, and have a care,
No foolish worldly
Baubles enter there:
With such Precaution you'll acquire his Grace,
And purchase in his glorious Court a Place,
Where you will bless the Day you first awoke,
The happy
Time in which your Slumber broke:
Crowds of all Blessings will your
Hearts invade,
And your fresh blooming Joys will never fade.
No more the Storms of
Princes you will fear,
That cause so many
Wrecks, and
Wretches here,
Where in a Moment all the
Cargo's lost,
Which your whole
Stock of anxious Care has cost;
One Day [with GOD] affords you more Content,
Than twenty Lives, in
Courts of
Princes spent;
An angry Word, a Slight, a gloomy Frown,
Will be enough to cast a
Courtier down:
[...]f he would
beg a
Favour of his
King,
Let his
Request be ne'er so mean a thing,
A hundred Journeys he must undertake,
His
Suit to this and that great
Courtier make:
Thousands of
Legs, and
Cringes it will cost;
[...]nd after all, perhaps his
Labour's lost.
[...]ut with GOD's
Votaries it is not so;
We cannot ask so fast, as He'll bestow;
His EAR is still, to hear our
Suits, inclin'd,
And to each
Suitor daily proveth kind.
HE often hears, before we are aware,
And our least Wants by HIM consider'd are;
The smallest Hair falls not beside HIS Care.
On HIM we cannot our
good Thoughts displace,
Unless we madly throw away HIS
Grace.
Only to
Him our Hearts should yield the Sway,
And not, by
false Obedience,
Heaven betray:
For first GOD doth what he would have us do,
Love with a
Love, beyond
Example true:
His
Charming Law is
LOVE, His
Yoke is sweet,
Both for the
King and poorest Beggar meet:
Easy and Light, alike to Great and Small,
And the same Hire proposed to them all.
Of
Monarchs, he to
Him is Great alone,
Who to himself becomes a
Little One.
The only
Greatness which poor Man can have,
[...]s to be here his
Great Redeemer's Slave:
That
King that doth not
Heav'n's just
King obey,
A Traitor is himself to
Majesty.
The simple
Shepherd, who with chast Desire,
The cheerful
Innocence to
Heav'n aspires:
The honest painful
Labourer, who sweats
[...]rom Morn to Night, to get the Bread he eats;
[...]f he serves
Heaven, is indeed more Great
Than Kings, with all their Pride and Purple State.
Thrice brave those Monarchs, who had dar'd to fly
[...]rom all th' alluring
Charms of Majesty;
Lay down the Sword, their conqu'ring Troops forsake,
Unarm'd alone the
Heaven of
Heavens t'attack,
A
Holy War with
Hosts of Pleasures wage,
[...]nd tho the
Flesh did for the Foe ingage,
Triumph'd o'er
Foreign and
Domestick Rage.
[...]
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Thrice
blest are those, who fled from being Great,
From
Courts to safer
Cottages retreat:
Heaven kindly doth their humble Thoughts defeat;
For
Greatness, while they strive to shun, they meet.
They are made Great, and so more glorious Kings,
By being just, than by all earthly Things.
Ah! how we
win, in
losing for our GOD,
While
Heav'n is gain'd for a poor sorry Clod
Of
Earth: When for a short
Grief here endur'd,
We are of
Everlasting Joys assur'd:
Since for one Pleasure we refuse our Sense,
We shall have
Millions for our Recompence.
Poor abus'd Men, unlucky
Flock, they stray
Without the
Shepherd, void of the right Way.
Unthinking
Souls, that perish with Delight,
Which all the Threats of Heav'n cannot affright:
F
[...]r sure those
Pains, which do on
Sin attend,
[...]ins which begin, but never must have end;
[...]e immaterial
Fire that burneth still,
[...]t to their great Misfortune cannot kill;
[...]he
Devil's Dungeon, and all sorts of
Pain,
[...]hich
Human Fortitude cannot sustain,
[...]ight (one wou'd think) Mens brutish Courage shake,
[...]nd in our
Souls a noble Fear awake:
[...]t if the
Racks of
Hell can't
Sin subdue,
[...]ffer the
Lord of
Hosts to conquer you;
[...]pose
Him not unwisely, but imbrace
[...]e favourable Offers of his Grace:
[...]store
Him to the Kingdom of your
Hearts,
[...]st without
Mercy, by the
Devil's Arts:
[...]he old
Ʋsurper's lawless Power disown,
[...]epose the hellish
Tyrant from the
Throne;
[...]d let
King JESUS reign in it alone.
His Law is much more easy to observe,
Than those o'th' World (which yet we gladly serve
It neither hurts the
Body, nor the
Mind;
But is indeed to one and t'other kind:
A Check sometimes it may afford to
Sense;
But is, at length, its own Benevolence.
O
Divine Law! O easy
Law of
Love!
Let ME observe thee, and thy Wages prove:
But then i'th' World a hundred Laws there be,
Void of all
Sense, but full of
Tyranny;
Where
foppish Form, our Liberty restrains,
And cripples us with false fantastick Chains.
You must pretend to Love whom you Detest;
Fawn on the
Great One, when by him opprest;
With sneering Praise guild o'er his blackest Crimes,
And all those
Humours which debauch the Times:
[...]sk your
Displeasure with a smiling
Face,
[...]d swear you're highly pleas'd with your Disgrace;
[...]iumph in shew, when you are overthrown,
[...]d all your Discontents and Griefs disown;
[...]tting off quite (with base uneasy Art)
[...]e honest Commerce of the
Mouth and
Heart.
[...]hameful
Slavery of poor Mankind,
[...]worthy of a Man, or Christian Mind!
[...]tead of CHRIST, whom always we shou'd own,
[...]se Tyranny and
Passion we enthrone;
[...]nging to those that from all
Vertue run,
[...] serve a
thousand Masters in their turn.
[...]e crouded Way of Vice cou'd never show
[...] Pleasure, which true Vertue doth bestow;
[...]m
Innocence a native Joy accrues,
[...] wracking Sorrow always Guilt pursues.
The
Ill Man's never
Quiet nor
Content;
The
Good is full of
Chear,
[...]ho
Penitent.
His inward
Calm upon his Brow appears,
And
Halcyon like, no blustring
Storm he fears.
Him, all the
Turns of
Fate's prepar'd to find,
Meets
Frowns and
Favours with an equal Mind.
If
Sickness warns him of approaching
Death,
Or
Fortune robs him of his worldly Wealth,
It cannot his unshaken Courage move,
Who, above Earth, hath plac'd in Heav'n his Love
His Health, his Riches, and his sole Delight,
Is here to serve his GOD with all his Might;
And that great Master faithfully to trace,
Whose Death was
Triumph, Pleasure a Disgrace;
He lov'd the
Cross; O
Cross! O happy
Wood!
That once was manur'd with our
Saviour's Blood,
And
moisten'd with his
Tears, with
Tears of
Grief,
Whilst
He that
shed them,
dy'd for our
Relief;
Whose all-revenging
Death [by th'
Cross] did quell
Th' usurped Force of
Sin, and
Power of Hell;
The
Stygian Monster's
Power, and so set free
[...]enowned
Heroes from
Captivity.
Twas by this
Cross that he to
Heav'n did climb,
[...]nd order'd all Mankind to follow HIM.
[...]
Cross! O CHRIST! O
Wounds! O Streams of
Blood!
[...] KING! to your ungrateful
Slaves too
Good!
[...]y Heart's Delight, my lingring
Soul's Desire,
[...]y Love, that burns me with a
Jambent Fire.
[...]y JESUS! Blessed
Body, and his
Blood,
[...]rought down from
Heav'n above to be
Man's Food:
[...]our LOVE, I find, does to such height amount,
[...]y Gratitude is
lost in the Account.
When
Punishment was to my Actions due,
Amazing
Favours my
Misdeeds ensue;
Instead of being by your Justice thrust,
With sudden
Thunder, into native Dust:
While with my Works I earn'd the
Fire of
Hell,
And Satan
triumph'd o'er my wretched Will;
When I provok'd your
Justice with the height
Of base Ingratitude, and Earth's Delight,
You did ev'n then, O depth of Goodness! deign,
My Heart of all innated
Vice to drain;
Which first, in being Yours, was truly blest,
Till I (vile Wretch) my MASTER dispossest:
YOƲ were its
Lord, its
Monarch; and what more?
Vouchsaf'd t'
espouse a thing so
mean and
poor,
To the expence of Your dear
Blood and
Breath;
Your
purple Sweat and
Tortures, worse than Death,
So dear it cost
YOƲ; yet I bore away,
Tho you have (once more) made the Wretch your Prey.
Dear
Lord, I wander'd in the
Paths of
Vice,
And grop'd on blindfold to the
Precipice:
[...]nstead of loving
YOƲ, the only Good,
[...] made each empty Vanity my God:
But, O Excess of
Mercy! YOƲ repay,
With
Grace and
Gifts Your
Slave's black Treachery,
Whom the false
World, and falser
Court deceiv'd;
Whom
Sin and
Satan wretchedly enslav'd.
What dismal Blindness did possess my Mind,
[...]or silly short-liv'd
Toys to have resign'd
A blest
Eternity; and you dear
Lord,
Who can a real heavenly
Good afford!
Eyes, on my Cheeks let trickling Tears run down,
Your
guilty selves in your own Waters drown.
False Guides, that led me to the
Hunter's Snare;
When by my self, left wholly to your Care:
Ah poor, ambitious, fond, deluded Sight,
Thus on the sorry
Creature to delight!
Your
Fellow-Slave, a Bit of
Earth, a
Dream,
E'en a poor wretched
Nothing to esteem.
For what avails a
Mitre or a
Crown,
Or all that here a Man can call his own?
Those whom our fawning
Flatterers call Great,
Whom baser
Mankind prostrate at their Feet,
In the Divine Eternal Glass appear
As little as the meanest
Mortal here.
When th' Eye in Darkness sets, and Life's warm Fire
With th'
Ice of
Death, in Sorrow doth expire;
What matters Gold, by some Men so ador'd?
What
Pleasure will a starry
Crown afford?
This Garb ill fits a pale and lifeless
Head,
And that bright
Metal shines not to the Dead;
Corruption then will not forbear its Prey,
For fear of
dead and
helpless Majesty;
Nor will that
Lustre, which amaz'd poor
Man,
Dazle the
Legions of bold
Vermin then:
Alas! There's no Distinction in the Grave,
Between the greatest
King and meanest
Slave:
All Flesh is there unto one
Change design'd,
And leaves all
worldly Goods and
Fame behind.
But different
Fates the righteous
Souls attend,
From theirs that here do make a wicked End.
Those of the
Good, to Heaven's Great
King repair,
The
unknown Pleasures of his
Court to share,
[...]n
Peace and
glorious Triumph to enjoy
The
Fruit of their laborious
Victory:
But those who lodg'd in Bodies, did defy,
With unrepented
Crimes, the
Deity,
Condemn'd to
Chains, and hopeless of Relief,
Die to all
Bliss, but ever live to
Grief.
It is a doleful Scene, to see base Man
Provoke his patient MAKER all he can;
Shun Happiness, so easy to be won,
And take a world of Pains to be undone;
Even employ his whole Life-long, to buy
A wretched Right to endless Misery.
Thus he, who studies to indulge his Earth,
And quite neglects the Meaning of his Birth,
Into the gaping Jaws of
Satan runs,
And the inviting Arms of JESUS shuns:
Those
Arms that stand still open to receive
All weary Prodigals that Sin do leave;
Arms full of
Love and
Pity, which display,
Even to Foes and Traitors,
Sanctuary:
[...]or those he left his
Father's bright Abode,
Made
Son of Man, to make Man
Son of GOD.
To cure their
Wounds, He Life's
Elixir bled,
And
dy'd a
Death, to
raise them from the Dead.
Dear JESUS, who with such a charming Art,
[...]ath soften'd and reduc'd Man's sinful Heart;
Did likewise, on the Day the Church renews
The Annual Obsequies of her dead
Spouse,
[...]rom worldly Vice her
Votary set free,
[...]nd from the
Court an
[...]
World deliver'd me:
[...]o from my self, thus freed, didst after deign,
[...]o bind me with your
Love's enlarging Chain:
[...]or such your Favours, shew me but the way,
[...]ood Lord, my due Acknowledgment must pay.
[...]OU had the Goodness, for my sake, to
dye,
Which I, for YOU, will do most willingly:
And since my Life cannot suffice to pay
For the least
Breath of that You gave away;
I wish the Lives of all the World were mine,
That all, for
Your dear sake, I might resign.
But a
rent Heart, since
You will not despise,
And a
bruis'd Reed, to
You in
Sacrifice,
My
Prayers I humbly offer; and
adore
The GOD that doth accept a
Gift so poor.
I love You, Lord, as bed-rid Men love Health,
Close Prisoners Freedom, or starv'd Beggars Wealth
My Soul thirsts after Thee, pure Spring of Good,
As the chac'd Deer after a cooling Flood.
Nor do I love You for your HEAVEN; no,
For Your blest sake all Comfort I'll forego.
The sharpest
Pain from thence will easy be,
And nought but HELL can be a Grief to me.
FINIS.