THE SYNAGOGVE, OR, THE SHADOW OF THE TEMPLE.  
SACRED POEMS, AND PRIVATE ejaculations.  
In imitation of Mr. GEORGE HERBERT.  Stultissimum credo ad imitandum non optima quaeque proponere. Plin. Secund. lib. 1. Epist. 5. Not to imitate the best example is the greatest folly. 
LONDON, Printed 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 for Phil Stephens, and Chrystopher 〈◊〉, at the golden Lion in St. Paul's churchyard. 1640.   

The Dedication.  

LOrd, my first fruits should have been sent to thee,  
For thou the tree  
That bare them, only lentest unto me.  
But while I had the use, the fruit was mine,  
Not so divine  
As that I dare presume to call it thine.  
Before 'twas ripe, it fell unto the ground:  
And since I found  
It bruised in the dirt, nor clean nor sound;  
Some I have wiped and picked, and bring thee now,  
Lord, thou know'st how:  
Gladly I would, but dare it not avow.  
Such as it is, 'tis here. Pardon the best,  
Accept the rest:  
Thy pardon and acceptance maketh blessed.    

Subterliminare.  
A stepping-stone to the threshold of Mr. Herbert's Church-porch.  

DIc, Cujus templum? Christi. Quis Condidit? e●e.  
Condidit Herbertus: dic, quibus auxiliis?  
Auxiliis multis: quibus, haud mihi dicere fas est,  
Tanta est ex dictis lis oriunda meis.  
Gratia, si dicam, dedit omnia, protinus obstat  
Ingenium, dicens cuncta fuisse sua.  
Ars negat, & nihil est non nostrum dicit in illo:  
Nec facile est litem composuisse mihi.  
Divide: Materiam det gratia, Materiaeque  
Ingenium cultus induat, arsque Modos.  
Non: ne displiceat pariter res Omnibus ista,  
Nec sortita velint jura vocare sua;  
Nempe pari sibi jure petunt cultusque, modosque,  
Materiamque, ars, & gratia, & ingenium.  
Ergo velit siquis dubitantem tollere elenchum,  
De templo Herberti talia dictadabit.  
In templo Herbertus condendo est Gratia totus,  
Ars pariter totus, totus & Ingenium.  
Cedite Romanae, Graiiae quoque cedite Musae:  
unum prae cunctis Anglia jactet opus.  
WHat Church is this? Christ's Church. Who builds it?  
Mr. George Herbert, Who assisted it?  
Many assisted: who, I may not say,  
So much contention might arise that way.  
If I say Grace gave all, Wit straight doth thwart,  
And says all that is there is mine: but Art  
Denies and says there's nothing there but's mine:  
Nor can I easily the right define.  
Divide: say, Grace the matter gave, and Wit  
Did polish it, Art measured and made sit  
Each several piece, and framed it all together.  
No, by no means: this may not please them neither.  
None's well contented with a part alone,  
When each doth challenge all to be his own:  
The matter, the expressions, and the measures,  
Are equally Arts, Wits, and grace's treasures.  
Then he that would impartially discuss  
This doubtful question, must answer thus:  
In building of this temple Mr. Herbert  
Is equally all Grace, all Wit, all Art.  
Roman and Grecian Muses all give way:  
One English Poem darkens all your day.    

¶ The churchyard.  

THou that intendest to the Church to day,  
Come take a turn or two, before thou go'st,  
In the churchyard: the walk is in the way.  
Who takes best heed in going, hasteth most:  
But he that unprepared rashly ventures,  
Hastens perhaps to seal his death's Indentures.    

¶ The Church-stile.  

SEest thou that stile? observe then how it rises  
Step after step, and equally descends:  
Such is the way to win celestial prizes;  
Humility the course begins and ends.  
Wouldst thou in grace to high perfection grow?  
Shoot thy roots deep, ground thy foundations low.   

Humble thyself, and God will lift thee up;  
Those that exalt themselves, he casteth down:  
The hungry he invites with him to sup,  
And clothes the naked with his robe and Crown.  
Think not thou hast what thou from him wouldst have;  
His labour's lost, if thou thyself canst save.   

Pride is the prodigality of grace,  
Which casteth all away by griping all:  
Humility is thrift, both keeps its place,  
And gains by giving, rises by its fall.  
To get by giving, and to lose by keeping,  
Is to be sad in mirth, and glad in weeping.    

¶ The Church-gate.  

NExt to the stlie, see where the gate doth stand,  
Which turning upon hooks and hinges may  
Easily be shut or opened with one hand,  
Yet constant in its centre still doth stay;  
And fetching a wide compass round about,  
Keeps the same course and distance, never out.   

Such must the course be that to Heaven tends:  
He that the gates of righteousness would enter,  
Must still continue constant to his ends,  
And fix himself in God as in his centre.  
Cleave close to him by faith, then move which way  
Discretion leads thee, and thou shalt not stray.   

We never wander, till we lose our hold  
Of him that is our way, our light, our guide:  
But when we grow of our own strength too bold,  
Vnhookt from him, we quickly turn aside.  
He holds us up, whilst in him we are found:  
If once we fall from him, we go to ground.    

¶ The church-walls.  

NOw view the walls, the Church is compassed round,  
As much for safety as for ornament:  
'Tis an enclosure, and no common ground;  
'Tis God's freehold, and but our tenement.  
Tenants at will, and yet in tail we be:  
Our children have the same right to't as we.   

Remember there must be no glatts left open,  
Where God hath fenced for fear of false illusions:  
God will have all or none; allows no scope  
For sins encroachments, and men's own intrusions.  
Close binding locks his laws together fast:  
He that plucks out the first, pulls down the last.   

Either resolve for all, or else for none;  
Obedience universal he doth claim:  
Either be wholly his, or all thine own.  
At what thou canst not reach, at least take aim.  
He that of purpose looks beside the mark,  
Might as well hoodwinked shoot, or in the dark.    

¶ The Church.  

LAstly consider where the Church doth stand;  
As near unto the middle as may be:  
God in his service chiefly doth command  
Above all other things sincerity.  
Lines drawn from side to side within a round,  
Not meeting in the centre, short are found.   

Religion must not side with any thing  
That swerves from God, or else withdraws from him:  
He that a welcome sacrifice would bring,  
Must fetch it from the bottom, not the brim.  
A sacred Temple of the Holy Ghost  
Each part of man must be, but his heart most.   

Hypocrisy in Church is alchemy,  
That casts a golden tincture upon brass:  
There is no essence in it; 'tis a lie,  
Though fairly stamped for truth it often pass:  
Only the Spirits aqua regia doth  
Discover it to be but painted froth.    

¶ The Church-porch.  

NOw ere thou passest further, sit thee down  
In the Church-porch, & think what thou hast seen;  
Let due consideration either crown,  
Orcrush thy former purposes. Between  
Rash undertakings and firm resolutions,  
Depends the strength or weakness of conclusions.   

Trace thy steps backward in thy memory,  
And first resolve of that thou heardest last:  
sincerity. It blots the history  
Of all religious actions, and doth blast  
The comfort of them, when in them God sees  
Nothing but outsides of formalities.   

In earnest be religious, trifle not;  
And rather for God's sake then for thine own:  
Thou hast robbed him, unless that he have got  
By giving, if his glory be not grown  
Together with thy good. Who seeketh more  
Himself then God, would make his roof his floor.   

Next to sinceritieremember still,  
Thou must resolve upon integrity:  
God will have all thou hast; thy mind, thy will,  
Thy thoughts, thy words, thy works. A nullity  
It proves, when God, that should have all, doth find  
That there is any one thing left behind.   

And having given him all, thou must receive  
All that he gives. Meet his commandment,  
Resolvethat thine obedience must notleave  
Vntillit reach unto the same extent:  
For all his precepts are of equal strength,  
And measure thy performance to the length.   

Then call to mind that Constancy must knit  
Thine undertakings and thine actions fast:  
He that sets forth towards Heaven, and doth sit  
Down by the way, will be found short at last.  
Be constant to the end, and thou shalt have  
An heavenly garland, though an earthly grave.   

But he that would be constant, must not take  
Religion up by fits and starts alone;  
But his continual practice must it make:  
His course must be from end to end but one.  
Bones often broken and knit up again,  
lose of their length, though in their strength they gain.   

Lastly, remember that humility  
Must solidate and keep all close together.  
What pride puffes up with vain futility,  
Lies open and exposed to all ill weather.  
An empty bubble may fair colours carry;  
But blow upon it, and it will not tarry.   

Prize not thine own too high, nor underrate  
Another's worth, but deal indifferently;  
View the defects of thy spiritual state,  
And others graces with impartial eye:  
The more thou deemest of thyself, the less  
Esteem of thee will all men else express.   

Contract thy lesson now, and this is just  
The sum of all. He that desires to see  
The face of God, in his religion must  
Sincere, entire, constant, and humble be.  
If thus resolved, fear not to proceed;  
Else the more haste thou mak'st, the worse thou'lt speed.    

¶ Invitation.  

Turn in, my Lord, turn in to me:  
My heart's an homely place;  
But thou canst make corruption flee,  
And fill it with thy grace.  
So furnished, it will be brave;  
And a rich dwelling thou shalt have.   

It was thy lodging once before;  
It builded was by thee:  
But I to sin set ope the door,  
It rendered was by me;  
And so thy building once defaced,  
And in thy room another placed.   

But he usurps, the right is thine:  
Oh dispossess him, Lord.  
Do thou but say, this heart is mine,  
He's gone at the first word.  
Thy word's thy will, thy will's thy power,  
Thy time is always; now's mine hour.   

Now say to sin, depart;  
And, son, give me thine heart.  
Thou; that by saying let it be, didst make it;  
Canst, if thou wilt, by saying give't me, take it.    

¶ Comfort in extremity.  

ALas! my Lord is going;  
Oh my woe!  
It will be mine undoing,  
If he go.  
I'll run and overtake him:  
If he stay,  
I'll cry aloud, and make him  
Look this way.  
Oh stay my Lord, my love; 'tis I.  
Comfort me quickly, or I die.   

Cheer up thy drooping spirits;  
I am here.  
My all-sufficient merits  
Shall appear  
Before the throne of glory  
In thy stead;  
I'll put into thy story,  
What I did  
List up thine eyes, sad soul, and see  
Thy Saviour here. Lo, I am he.   

Alas! shall I present.  
My sinfulness  
To thee? Thou wilt resent  
The loathsomeness.  
Be not afraid, I'll take  
Thy sins on me;  
And all my favour make  
To shine on thee.  
Lord, what thou'lt have me, thou must make me.  
As I have made thee, now I take thee.    

¶ Resolution and assurance.  

LOrd, thou wilt love me. Wilt thou not?  
Beshrew that not;  
It was my sin begot  
That question first: Yes Lord, thou wilt;  
Thy blood was spilled  
To wash away my guilt.   

Lord, I will love thee. Shall I not?  
Beshrew that not.  
'Twas death's accursed plot  
To put that question. Yes I will,  
Lord, love thee still  
In spite of all my ill.   

Then life and love continue still;  
We shall and will  
My Lord and I, until  
In his celestial hill  
We love our fill  
When he hath purged all my ill.    

¶ The nativity.  

Unfold thy face, unmask thy ray,  
Shine forth, bright sun, double the day:  
Let no malignant misty fume,  
Nor foggy vapour once presume  
To interpose thy perfect sight  
This day, which makes us love thy light  
For ever better that we could  
That blessed object once behold,  
Which is both the circumference  
And centre of all excellence:  
Or rather neither, but a treasure  
Unconfined without measure:  
Whose centre and circumference  
Including all pre-eminence,  
Excluding nothing but defect,  
And infinite in each respect;  
Is equally both here and there,  
And now and then, and everywhere;  
And always one himself the same,  
A being far above a name.  
Draw neerthen, and freely pour  
Forth all thy light into that hour  
Which was crowned with his birth,  
And made heaven envy earth.  
Let not his birthday clouded be,  
By whom thou shinest, and we see.    

¶ Vows broken and rewarded.  

SAid I not so, that I would sin no more?  
Witness my God, I did.  
Yet I am run again upon the score,  
My faults cannot be hid.   

What shall I do? Make vows and break them still?  
'Twill be but labour lost:  
My good cannot prevail against mine ill,  
The business will be crossed.   

Oh! say not so; thou canst not tell, what strength  
Thy God may give thee at the length.  
Renew thy vows, and if thou keep the last,  
Thy God will pardon all that's past. (may  
Vow whilst thou canst; whilst thou canst vow, tho● may●●  
Perhaps perform it when thou thinkest least.   

Thy God hath not denied thee all,  
Whilst he permits thee but to call:  
Call to thy God for grace to keep  
Thy vows; and if thou break them, weep.  
Weep for thy broken vows, and vow again:  
Vows made with tears cannot be still in vain.   

Then once again  
I vow to mend my ways:  
Lord say Amen,  
And thine be all the praise.    

¶ Confusion.  

OH! how my mind  
is graveled!  
not a thought  
That I can find,  
but's raveled  
all to nought.  
Short ends of threads,  
and narrow shreds  
of lists,  
Knots snarled ruffs,  
loose broken tufts  
of twists,  
Are my torn meditations ragged clothing;  
Which wound and woven shape a suit for nothing.  
One while I think, and then I am in pain  
To think how to unthink that thought again.   

How can my soul  
but famish  
with this food?  
Pleasures full bowl  
tastes rammish,  
taints the blood:  
Profit picks bones,  
and chewes on stones  
that choke:  
Honour climbs hills;  
fats not, but fills  
with smoke.  
And whilst my thoughts are greedy upon these,  
They pass by pearls, and stoop to pick up pease.  
Such wash and draff is fit for none but swine;  
And such I am not, Lord, if I am thine.  
Cloth me anew, and feed me then afresh:  
Else my soul dies famished and starved with flesh.    

¶ A Paradox.  

THe worse the better.  

Welcome my health: this sickness makes me well.  
Medicines adieu:  
When with diseases I have list to dwell,  
I'll wish for you.   

Welcome my strength▪ this weakness makes me abl●  
Powers adieu:  
When I am weary grown of standing stable,  
I'll wish for you.   

Welcome my wealth: this loss hath gained me more▪  
Richesadiew:  
When I again grow greedy to be poor,  
I'll wish for you.   

Welcome my credit: this disgrace is glory.  
Honour's adieu:  
When for renown and fame I shall be sorry,  
I'll wish for you.   

Welcome content: this sorrow is my joy.  
Pleasure's adieu:  
When I desire such griefs as may annoy,  
I'll wish for you.   

Health, strength, and riches, credit and content,  
Are spared best sometimes, when they are spent;  
Sickness and weakness, loss, disgrace and sorrow,  
Lend most sometimes, when they seem most to borrow:  
Blessed be that hand that helps by hurting, gives  
By taking, by forsaking me relieves.  
If in my fall my rising be thy will;  
Lord, I will say, the worse the better still.  
I'll speak the Paradox, maintain thou it;  
And let thy grace supply my want of wit.  
Leave me no learning that a man may see,  
So I may be a scholar unto thee.     

¶ Inmates.  

A House I had (a heart I mean) so wide  
And full of spacious rooms on every side,  
That viewing it I thought I might do well  
(Rather than keep it void and make no gain  
Of what I could not use) to entertain  
Such guests as came. I did. But what befell  
Me quickly in that course, I sigh to tell.   

A guest I had (alas! I have her still)  
A great big bellied guest, enough to fill  
The vast content of hell, Corruption:  
By entertaining her, I lost my right  
To more than all the world hath now in sight;  
Each day, each hour almost she brought forth one,  
Or other base begot, Transgression.   

The charge grew great. Ay, that had lost before,  
All that I had, was forced now to score,  
For all the charges of their maintenance,  
In doomsday book: who ever knew't would say,  
The least sum there was more than I could pay,  
When first 'twas due; beside continuance,  
Which could not choose but much the debt enhance.   

To ease me, first I wished her to remove;  
But she would not. I sued her then above,  
And begged the Court of heaven, but in vain,  
To cast her out. No, I could not evade  
The bargain, which she pleaded I had made;  
That whilst both lived, I should entertain  
At mine own charge both her and all her train.   

No help then, but or I must die or she;  
And yet my death of no avail would be:  
For one death I had died already then,  
When first she lived in me; and now to die  
Another death again, were but to tie  
And twist them both into a third; which, when  
It once hath seixed on, never loseth men.   

Her death might be my life; but her to kill  
I of myself had neither power, nor will.  
So desperate was my case. Whilst I delayed,  
My guest still teemed, my debts still greater grew;  
The less I had to pay, the more was due:  
The more I knew, the more I was afraid;  
The more I mused, the more I was dismayed.   

At last I learned, there was no way but one,  
A friend must do it for me. He alone,  
That is the Lord of life, by dying can  
Save men from death, and kill Corruption:  
And many years ago the deed was done;  
His heart was piereed, out of his side there ran  
Sins corrasives, restoratives for man.   

This precious balm I begged, for pity's sake,  
At Mercies gate: where Faith alone may take,  
What Grace and Truth do offer liberally.  
Bounty said, Come. I heard it, and believed  
None ever there complained but was relieved.  
Hope waiting upon Faith, said instantly,  
That henceforth I should live, Corruption die.   

I'd so she died, I live. But yet, alas!  
●e are not parted. She is where she was;  
Cleaves fast unto me, still looks through mine eyes  
●peaks in my tongue, and muses in my mind,  
●orks with my hands: her body's left behind,  
Although her soul be gone. My miseries  
All flow from hence; from hence my woes arise.   

Joath myself, because I leave her not;  
Yet cannot leave her. No, she is my lot  
Now being dead, that living was my choice;  
And still though dead, she both conceives and bears  
Many faults daily, and as many fears:  
All which for vengeance call with a loud voice,  
And drown my comforts with their deadly noise.   

Dead bodies kept unburied quickly stink,  
And putrify: how can I then but think  
Corruption noisome, even mortified?  
Though such she were before, yet such to me  
She seemed not: Kind fools can never see,  
Or will not credit, until they have tried,  
That friendly looks oft false intents do hide.   

But mortified Corruption lies unmasked,  
Blabs her own secret filthiness unasked,  
To all that understand her. That do none,  
In whom she lives embraced with delight:  
She first of all deprives them of their sight;  
Then dote they on her as upon their own,  
And she to them seems beautiful alone.   

But woe is me! one part of me is dead,  
The other lives. Yet that which lives, is led,  
Or rather carried captive unto sin,  
By the dead part. I am a living grave,  
And a dead body I within me have.  
The worse part of the better oft doth win;  
And when I should have ended, I begin.   

The scent would choke me, were it not that grace  
Sometimes vouchsafeth to perfume the place  
With odours of the spirit, which do ease me,  
And counterpoise Corruption. Blessed spirit,  
Although eternal torments be my merit,  
And of myself Transgressions only please me,  
Add grace enough being revived to raise me.   

Challenge thine own: Let not intruders hold  
Against thy right, what to my wrong I sold.  
Having no state myself but tenancy,  
And tenancy at will, what could I grant  
That is not voided, if thou say avaunt?  
O speak the word, and make these inmates flee;  
Or which is one, take me to dwell with thee.    

¶ The curb.  

PEace rebel Thought: dost thou not know thy King,  
My God is here?  
Cannot his presence, if no other thing,  
Make thee forbear?  
Or were he absent, all the standers by  
Are but his spies:  
And well he knows, if thou shouldst it deny,  
Thy words were lies.  
If others will not, yet I must, and will  
Myself complain.   

My God, even now a base rebellious thought  
Began to move,  
And subtly twining with me would have wrought  
Me from thy love:  
Fain he would have me to believe, that sin  
And thou might both  
Take up my heart together for your inn,  
And neither loath  
The others' company; a while sit still,  
And part again.   

Tell me, my God, how this may be redressed:  
The fault is great,  
And I the guilty party have confessed,  
I must be beat:  
And I refuse not punishment for this,  
Though to my pain,  
So I may learn to do no more amiss,  
Nor sin again.  
Correct me, if thou wilt; but teach me then,  
What I shall do.   

Lord of my life, methinks I hear thee say,  
That labour's eased:  
The fault that is confessed, is done away;  
And thou art pleased.  
How can I sin again, and wrong thee then  
That dost relent,  
And cease thine anger straight, as soon as men  
Do but repent?  
No rebel Thought: for if thou move again,  
I'll tell thee too.    

¶ The loss.  

THe match is made between my love and me:  
And therefore glad and merry now I'll be.  
Come glory, crown my head, and pleasures drown my bed of thorns in down.  
Sorrow be gone, delight and joy alone befit my honey moon.  
Be packing now you comb'rous Cares and fears:  
Mirth will allow no room to sighs and tears.   

Whilst thus I lay as ravished with delight,  
I heard one say, so fools their friends requite.  
I knew the voice, my Lords; and at the noise his words did make, arose.  
I looked and spied each where, and loudly cried, my dear; but none replied.  
Then to my grief I found my love was gone,  
Without relief, leaving me all alone.    

¶ The Search.  

WHither, oh! whither is my Lord departed?  
What can my Love, that is so tender hearted,  
Forsake the soul which once he thorough darted,  
As though it never smarted?   

No sure, my Love is here, if I could find him:  
He that fills all can leave no place behind him.  
But oh! my senses are too weak to wind him,  
Or else I do not mind him.   

Oh! no, I mind him not so as I ought;  
Nor seek him so as I by him was sought,  
When I had lost myself; he dearly bought  
Me that was sold for nought.   

But I have wounded him, that made me sound;  
Lost him again, by whom I first was found;  
Him, that exalted me, have cast to th' ground:  
My sins his blood have drowned.   

Tell me, oh! tell me (thou alone canst tell)  
Lord of my life, where thou art gone to dwell:  
For in thy absence heaven it self is hell;  
Without thee none is well.   

Or if thou be'st not gone, but only hidest  
Thy presence in the place where thou abidest;  
Teach me the sacred art, which thou providest  
For all them whom thou guidest,   

To seek and find thee by: Else here I'll lie,  
Until thou find me. If thou let me die  
That only unto thee for life do cry,  
Thou diest as well as I.   

For if thou live in me, and I in thee,  
Then either both alive or dead mu●t be:  
At least, I'll lay my death on thee, and see  
If thou wilt not agree.   

For though thou be the judge thyself, I have  
Thy promise for it which thou canst not wave,  
That who salvation at thy hands do crave,  
Thou wilt not fail to save.   

Oh! seek and find me then, or else deny  
Thy truth, thyself. Oh! thou that canst not lie  
Show thyself constant to thy word, draw nigh;  
Find me. Lo, here Ilye.    

¶ The return.  

Lo, now my love appears,  
My tears  
Have cleared mine eyes. I see  
'Tis he.  
Thanks blessed Lord, thine absence was my hell;  
And now thou art returned, I am well.   

By this I see I must  
Not trust  
My joys unto myself:  
This shelf  
Of too secure and presumptuous pleasure  
Had almost sunk my ship, and drowned my treasure.   

Who would have thought a joy  
So coy,  
To be offended so  
And go  
So suddenly away? as though enjoying  
Full pleasure and contentment were annoying.   

Hereafter I had need  
Take heed:  
Joys, amongst other things,  
Have wings,  
And watch their opportunities of flight;  
Converting in a moment day to night.   

But is't enough for me,  
To be  
Instructed to be wise?  
I'll rise,  
And read a lecture unto them that are  
Willing to learn, how comfort dwells with care.   

He that his joys would kept,  
Must weep,  
And in the brine of tears  
And fears  
Must pickle them. That powder will preserve:  
Faith with repentance is the souls conserve.   

Learn to make much of care:  
A rare  
And precious balsam 'tis  
For bliss;  
Which oft resides where mirth with sorrow meets.  
Heavenly joys on earth are bitter-sweets.    

¶ The Circumcision.  

SOorrow betide my sins! Must smart so soon  
Seize on my saviour's tender flesh, scarce grown  
Unto an eight days' age?  
Can nothing else assuage  
The wrath of heaven but his infant blood?  
Innocent infant, infinitely good!   

Is this thy welcome to the world, great God:  
No sooner born but subject to the rod,  
Of sin incensed wrath?  
Alas! what pleasure hath  
Thy father's justice to begin thy passion  
Almost together with thine incarnation?   

Is it to antedate thy death? Indite  
Thy condemnation himself? and write  
The copy with thy blood,  
Since nothing is so good?  
Cr●s't by this experiment to try,  
Whether thou be'st borne mortal and canst die?   

If man must needs draw blood of God, yet why  
Stays he not till thy time be come to die?  
Didst thou thus early bleed  
For us, to show what need  
We have to hasten unto thee as fast,  
And learn that all the time is lost that's past?   

'Tis true we should do so. Yet in this blood  
there's something else that must be understood:  
It seals thy covenant;  
That so we may not want  
Witness enough against thee, that thou art  
Made subject to the law to act our part.   

The Sacrament of thy regeneration  
It cannot be. It gives no intimation  
Of what thou wert, but we.  
Native impurity,  
Original corruption, was not thine;  
But only as thy righteousness is mine.   

In holy baptism this is brought to me,  
As that in Circumcision was to thee:  
And so thy loss and pain  
Did prove my joy and goine.  
Thy Circumcision writ thy death in blood:  
Baptism in water seals my livelihood.   

Oh blessed change! yet rightly understood  
That blood was water, and this water's blood.  
What shall I give again  
To recompense thy pain?  
Lord, take revenge upon me for this smart:  
To quit thy foreskin, circumcise my heart.    

¶ Inundations.  

WE talk of Noah's flood as of a wonder;  
And so we may:  
The Scrptures say,  
The waters did prevail. the hills were under,  
And nothing could be seen but sea.   

And yet there are two other sloods surpass  
That flood as far,  
As heaven one star:  
Which many men regard as little as  
The ordinariest things that are.   

The one is sin, the other is salvation:  
And we must need  
Confess indeed  
That either of them is an inundation,  
That doth the deluge far exceed.   

In Noah's food he and his household lived;  
And there abode  
A whole Ark-load  
Of other creatures, that were then reprieved,  
All safely on the waters rode.   

But when sin came, it overflowed all,  
And left none free:  
Nay, even he  
That knew no sin, could not release my thrall;  
But that he was made sin for me.   

And when salvation came, my saviour's blood  
Drowned sin again  
With all its train  
Of evils; overflowing them with good,  
With good that ever shall remain.   

Oh! let there be one other inundation:  
Let grace overflow  
In my soul so,  
That thankfulness may level with salvation,  
And sorrow sin may overgrow.   

Then will I praise my Lord and Saviour so,  
That Angels shall  
Admire man's fall;  
When they shall see God's greatest glory grow,  
Where Satan thought to root out all.    

¶ sin.  

Sin, I would fain define thee, but thou art  
An uncouth thing,  
All that I bring  
To show thee fully, shows thee but in part.   

I call thee the transgression of the law.  
And yet I read,  
That sin is dead  
Without the law; and thence it strength doth draw.   

I say thou art the sting of death. 'Tis true.  
And yet I find  
Death comes behind:  
The work is done before the pay be due.   

I say thou art the devil's work. Yet he  
Should much rather  
Call thee father:  
For he had been no devil but for thee.   

What shall I call thee then? If death and devil,  
Right understood,  
Be names too good;  
I'll say thou art the quintessence of evil.    

¶ Travels at home.  

OFt have I wished a traveller to be;  
Mine eyes did even itch the sights to see,  
That I had heard and read of. Oft I have  
Been greedy of occasion, as the grave  
That never says enough; yet still was crossed  
When opportunities had promised most.  
At last I said: What meanest thou wandering else  
To straggle thus? Go travel first thyself:  
Thy little world can show thee wonders great;  
The greater may have more, but not more neat  
And curious pieces. Search, and thou shalt find  
Enough to talk of. If thou wilt, thy mind  
Europe supplies, and Asia thy will,  
And afric thine affections. And if still  
Thou list to travel further, put thy senses  
For both the Indies. Make no more pretences  
Of new discoveries, whilst yet thine own  
And nearest little world is still unknown.  
Away then with thy quadrants, compasses,  
Globes, tables, cards, and maps, and minute glasses:  
Lay by thy journals and thy diaries,  
Close up thine annals and thy histories:  
study thyself, and read what thou hast writ  
In thine own book, thy conscience: Is it fit  
To labour after other knowledge so,  
And thine own nearest, dearest self not know?  
Travels abroad both dear and dangerous are,  
Whilst oft the soul pays for the bodies fare▪  
Travels at home are cheap and safe. Salvation  
Comes mounted on the wings of meditation.  
He that doth live at home, and learns to know  
God and himself, needeth no further go.    
FINIS.