A SPIRITVAL SPICERY: Containing Sundry sweet Tractates of Devotion and Piety.  
By RI. BRATHWAIT, Esq.  Cant. c. 1. 12. c. 5. 13. 
My Well-beloved is as a bundle of Myrrh unto me: he shall lie between my breasts.  
His cheeks are as a bed of Spices.  
LONDON, Printed by I. H. for George Hutton at his shop within Turning style in Holborn. 1638.   

TO THE TRULY ENNOBLED, THOMAS, LORD FAUCONBERGE, Baron of YAROM: Together With his pious Progeny, those succeeding Branches of a prospering Family: R. B. Zealously Dedicates this Spiritual Spicery.   

Upon the translation of his Divine Dialogue.  
TO you (my Lord) who knows th'original,  
This may seem fruitless; yet these sacred flowers,  
Like a Bride-posie at a Nuptial,  
May tender choice content to some of yours,  
Which blessed effect would crown this Work of ours:  
That we should be so happy as to give  
Where we do love, RULES how to dye and live.  
" Which for his Sake we ask that is our Saviour,  
" That we may live in's fear, die in his favour.   

A TITLE-TABLE; Or Short summary of all such Tractates, Meditations, Prayers, Contemplations, and Motives to Piety, as are comprised within this SPIRITUAL SPICERY.  

A Divine Dialogue; 
Gruytrodius.  or a comfortable Conference betwixt our Saviour and a Sinner: with the Life of GR●YTRODIUS, the Author: Professant of a strict disciplinary Order. Page 1.  
A familiar Expostulation of the Flesh, 
Bonaventura.  to GOD the Father, touching C●RIST. pag. 53.  
An Answer of the Father to the Flesh. p. 61.  
A pithy Meditation upon this Expostulation and Answer, 
Author.  to inflame the Soul with a devout fervour. p. 65.  
General Rules of living well. 
Ibid.  p. 69.  
The Sorrowful Souls Solace. p. 82.  
A Meditation referring to the former Ejaculation. p. 93.  
Mans-Mutability. p. 95.  
Minds-Tra●quillity. pag. 103.  
A Meditation containing the praise of Peace, and her Beauty. p. 109.  
Christian Philosophy. p. 113  
The Souls Jubilee. 
Augustinus.  p. 121.  
The Christian Storehouse. p. 144.  
Man his own Foe. 
Author.  p. 153.  
Two devout Prayers, 
Granado.  or Meditations of F. Lewis of Granado. p. 164. & 167.  
A short and fruitful Confession of a Sinner unto God, for obtaining Contrition. p. 179.  
A Confession of Sins. 
Augustine.  p. 183.  
A Prayer before the holy Communion. p. 187.  
A Prayer after celebration of the holy Communion. 
Aquinas.  p. 190.  
An other Prayer. 
Bonavent.  p. 193.  
A Prayer for all Judges, 
Author.  and Justiciaries. p. 196.  
A Prayer for peace or tranquillity of mind. p. 201.  
Of the presence of the Conscience in every place. 
Bernard.  p. 206.  
A Pithy Consideration 
Author.  enforcing in us to the former Subject a more serious Meditation. p. 209.  
A Closing Sonnet upon these Miscellane Meditations. 
Ibid.  p. 223.  
A Reply to a rigid Precisian, 
Ibid.  rendering him in a sententions Sapphic of the Poet, all satisfaction. p. 226.  
A Christian Dial; 
Lanspergius.  which may serve well to shadow out our hours, number our days, direct our ways, contract our years, and regulate our desires. p. 228.  
The Life of joannes Lanspergius, a Carthusian; Author of that Christian Dial. p. 230.  
A brief institution, 
Ibid.  with an Exercise for an happy death: expressed in a familiar Conference betwixt God and the Soul.  
Wholesome Admonitions, teaching a Christian how to dye well. p. 252.  
An Exercise, whereby ●arely, or whensoever thou willest, thou mayst pour out thy heart unto God, for a good death. p. 257.  
An Oblation of Christ and his meri●s to his Father. p. 261.  
The Dying man's Diary, 
Lanspergius.  or a Christians Memento mori; divided into a five days Exercise. p. 264.  
Profitable Counsel for one approaching near the point of death. p. 265.  
An Exercise, wherein the sick person with sighs and groans, may resign himself unto God, and fervently desire, that he may deserve to be joined unto him. p. 270.  
A Christians Last-will, 
Lanspergius.  or Testament; containing a Protestation or Testament, not unprofitable to be repeated, or meditated of every Christian at the point of death. p. 281.  
An Elegy of Saint Dionysius, 
Dionysius.  of the judgement of death. p. 288.  
An Epistle of Ludovious Blosius, 
Blosius.  written to an especial friend, upon the perfecting and publishing of his Work entitled, The Parlour of the Soul. p. 290.  
Certain choice or Select Sayings of D. Henricus Suso: 
Suso.  of the love of the World, and of the love of God. p. 304.  
Of the Passion of our Lord. p. 309.  
Of the holy Eucharist. p. 313.  
Of resigning, denying, and mortifying one's self. p. 316.  
The Passionate● Pilgrim; 
Augustine.  Breathing a Contemplative Man's Exercise: offering a Penitent Souls Sacrifice. p. 325.  
Death's Memorial. 
Damian.  p. 336.  
Death's distinction. 
Bernard.  p. 343.  
Holy Memorials; 
Author.  or Heavenly Memento's. p. 345.  
Of his Conception.  
Memorial I. ibid.  
Of his Birth.  
Memorial II. p. 352.  
Of his Childhood.  
Memorial III. p. 360.  
Of his Youth.  
Memorial IV. p. 367.  
Of his Manhood.  
Memorial V. p. 375.  
Of his Age.  
Memorial VI p. 383.  
His Pleasures.  
Memorial VII. p. 395.  
His Labours.  
Memorial VIII. p. 406.  
His Life.  
Memorial IX. p. 417.  
His Death.  
Memorial. X. p. 443.    

THE LIFE Of JACOBUS GRUYTRODIUS, Author of this Divine Dialogue: Or Christian Manual, faithfully rendered according to the Original.  
JACOBUS GRUYTRODIUS, a Germane, a man singularly versed divine and humane Learning: And opposite in constancy of opinion, and consonancy of doctrine, to those surreptitious Errors of the Time; who, as he had commendably passed his youth in the Liberal Sciences, so he consecrated and happily bestowed the residue of his time to the honour of God, in a devout privacy: having his pen ever versed in Works of devotion and piety: never in arguments of division or controversy.  
He lived in the year M. CCCC.LXXII.   


A Divine Dialogue; Or A Comfortable Conference betwixt our SAVIOUR, and a SINNER.  Sinner. 
PArdon me (I beseech thee) my most gracious Lord Jesus CHRIST, thy most unworthy and unhappy Servant, desirous to talk a while with thee, and of thee.  Christ. 
Why, Who art thou?  Sinner. 
A sinful man, who unhappily and rashly have fallen into the misery, and filthiness of sundry sins, and much more unhappily am ready to fall into eternal misery, and calamity after the end of this life.  Christ. 
Thou needest not fear this fearful fall, if thou wilt but do so much as truly repent thee of thy sins committed, and henceforth abstain from those sins whereof thou hast repent. For I, most tender in my compassion towards thee, out of mere love descended from the royal Throne of mine high glory, to unmeasurable dolour and anxiety, all which I willingly suffered in my flesh, in my mind, in my members, and senses, to the end that I might deliver thee from the eternal torments of hell, and bestow on thee the joy of Heaven. Doubt nothing therefore touching thine offences: I will forget them all, so thou forget thine evil affection, and depraved custom. I will forget, (I say) and blot out thine iniquity, and as far distant as the East is from the West, so far will I divide thee from thy sin: I will cleanse thee: Neither will I cease till I fulfil thee throughout: that, Where sin hath abounded, grace likewise may superabound. Yet I would beloved, I would be trusted, I would with sighs and tears be entreated, than which no sweeter melody can unto me be tendered.  Sinner. 
O my crucified JESUS, I know I am dearer to thee than I am to myself; for to thee I am always dear, who (as it is written) Lovest all things that are, and hatest nothing of those which thou hast made. But man is not always equally dear to himself as he is unro thee: because he that loveth iniquity, hateth his owns soul.  Christ. 
This have I shown in the continual sorrows of my whole crucified life. For I received the Cross of my Passion in the Womb of my mother, and continually bore it in my heart, and confirmed it with much austerity in my body. So as that I might purposely show the unmeasurableness of the sorrows of my soul; my final passion then approaching, it was my will to sweat blood thorough all my members, and that, (which lay hid as a secret of my crucifying, from the womb of my Mother) with sensible signs, to reveal to my faithful ones, which seemed fittest to be at my passage, and poin● of death.  Sinner. 
I conceive (my good JESUS) how in that bloody sweat, with which thou wert deep-died and engrained in all thy members, thy blessed soul wholly suffered, because it is whole in every part of the body, yea and the very life of the body. But tell me what thou requirest of me, for so great anguish continually sustained for me?  Christ. 
Only to love me again. For to this end have I suffered my passion, that I might purchase thy affection.  Sinner. 
Surely most worthy art thou to be loved, because thou art good in thyself: and none good but God alone: And because thou art the Lord, delivering from the power and slavery of the Devil: And because thou art God, forgiving sins, which none forgiveth but God alone: And because thou lovest those that love thee: Whence it is that thou sayest, I love those that love me: And because thou hearest those that beg of thee: whence one saith, I have loved the Lord, because he will hear me. Thou also, as the peace of charity, coming into the world, to warm and inflame the cold and lukewarm, hast said, I came, that they might have life: to wit, the life of grace in this life, and more abundantly, to wit, of glory in the life to come.  Christ. 
Surely there is nothing, which may so inflame the fire of God's love in thy heart, as a continual consideration and meditation of this speech of mine: I came, that they might have life, and that more abundantly. And of that much like unto this: So God loved the world, as he gave his only begotten Son.  Sinner. 
Truly wretched and miserable is he, in whose heart the fire of love is not kindled, when he considereth these things, wherein the Charity of God hath chiefly appeared. But, o thou only begotten of God, suffer not my heart to be so frozen, or benumbed with this icy congelation, but rather through thy mercy, in the remembrance of these thy Words, like Snow melting by the heat of the Sun, let me say with that princely Prophet: My heart is become as melting wax.  Christ. 
Humane impiety before the time of my passion, took occasion of being unthankful: For man being created, but not as then redeemed, said, I am no more bound to God, than other creatures be: For he spoke the word, and I was made; he hath bestowed no more labour on me than any other brute creature. But now the mouth of these that speak wickedly is stopped, and no place now is left for unthankfulness. For I have laboured more in the sole redemption of man, than in the whole frame and fabric of the World. For of a Master I became a servant, of Rich poor, of Immortal mortal, of the Word flesh, of the Son of God the son of man: I suffered reproaches of such as upbraided me, I suffered underminers in my Works, contradicters in my Words, scorners in my Woes, necessities of the flesh, horror of death, ignominy of the Crosse.  Sinner. 
O how admirable was this love! What shall I render to my Lord, for all his sorrows?  Christ. 
If thou recall to mind, how great things the Lord of Majesty, the Son of God suffered for thee, though thou should●t dye a thousand deaths, yet wert thou not equally sufficient to answer me: for the estimate of so great a benefit, exceedeth all means of requital.  Sinner. 
As thou best knowest, how much I owe unto thee, the Lord of glory, who subjectedst thyself to death for me, that I might enjoy that happiness, which neither eye hath seen, nor ear hath heard: recount unto me, I beseech thee, the reasons which caused that most dolorous pain in thy most holy soul. For thou saidst, right now, that in the womb of thy blessed Mother, thou receivedst the Cross of thy Passion, and bore it continually to the hour of thy dissolution.  Christ. 
To this end, that thou mightst by affection & compassion become an acceptable sacrifice unto God, wholly inflamed with the fire of Charity, all the rust and rubbish of sin being consumed, and wasted: Consider diligently with a lively heart, how I suffered a double Martyrdom; one in my body, another in my soul or Spirit. As touching the Martyrdom of my Body consider, that there was never the suffering of any martyr so sharp, so painful, that it might be compared with my suffering: which I will prove unto thee, by authority, by sign, by reason. First, by authority. For I myself crying out of the greatness of my sorrows, said, O all ye, who pass by this way, consider and see, if ever there were sorrow like unto my sorrow! as if I should have said, there was never any.  
Secondly, by Sign; Forasmuch as there were never so many Signs seen in the Martyrdom of any, as at my Passion, implying the sharpness and painfulness of it: to wit, When the Sun was darkened, the Earth moved, etc. As if by the dolorous clamours of my passion they had conceived a sense of devout compassion, bemoaning me the Son of God, hanging on the Crosse. For it was not in the creature to endure the injury done to the Creator. Wherein wicked and obdurate hearts are justly reproved, who will not be wrought to compassion, nor softened with a pious devotion, in the remembrance of my death.  
Thirdly, I prove unto thee the bitterness of my passion by reason. Forasmuch as my complexion was most excellent, both by reason of the incorruption of my flesh, as also by reason of the most proportionable union or mixture of the Elementary qualities. For I took corruptible flesh of the Virgin, for the freeing of all Original sin, that is, of inordinate concupiscence. Now to such a complexion, was required comeliness of beauty, and strength of body. Because therefore, by how much more proportionable the union is of those Elements and qualities, whereof man is composed and compacted: by so much more difficulty, and violently is he dissolved: hence it appeareth, that the separation of my body and soul was more painful, than the death of others. Also my blessed flesh, by how much more it was freer from all spot or blemish of sin: by so much also it became more 
* In that he was innocent, he became more sensible of torment.  sensible of torments. Now concerning my Spiritual martyrdom, which I suffered in my Soul (as I said before unto thee) it began at such time as I was first conceived in the womb of my mother, or that my Soul was infused into my body: and continued without intermission 33. years and a half, till such time as my Soul was separated from my body upon the Crosse. So as, I became a Martyr even in the Womb of my Mother. Wherefore I was not so much as one moment, without the most bitter martyrdom of my Spirit: Because whatsoever I suffered in the Night when I was taken, or the Day following when I was slain, in mocking, reviling, spitting, nailing, and stretching upon the Cross, etc. This throughly and wholly my most holy Soul long before suffered. But thou art especially to consider, that those dolorous piercing darts of the Virgin, my blessed mother, became the excessivest Object of my sorrows; who having a tender and respective eye to all my dolours, in perfect Charity, as became the condition of her motherly excellency, so much grieved for my sorrows, as was sitting for such a woman to grieve. And all the sorrows of my Mother, continually wounded my mind. So as, my Mother's Cross ministered unto me a new Crosse.  
Another Object of my continual sorrow, was all those martyrdoms which were at any time done, or to be done upon any of mine Elect for me. So as, in very truth I say unto thee, that all those pains, griefs, tribulations, persecutions, and miseries, which any man was to suffer, or should suffer aswell in body, as in soul, from Adam, even to the very last man, that shall be borne to the end of the World: all these I suffered always in my Soul must fully, and through my compassion they did more hurt me, and more sharply grieve me, than any man's corporal pain, which he actually suffereth, ever personally did. And there are two causes which give sufficient testimony of the truth hereof. One is, because I, in the glass or mirror of my Divinity did behold all things created and to be created, things past, present, and to come, which were to me present. And I, from the very first instant of the infusion of my Soul into my Body, began always to observe, till such time as I gave up my Ghost upon the Cross, all the pains which I was to endure, and whatsoever all my Elect from the beginning of the world, had at any time suffered, and such as being not yet borne, were to suffer, even to the end of the world: all this I suffered in the inferior faculties of my Soul. And in each of these was I more inwardly and grievously tormented in my Spirit, than any one could be in his own proper body, at such time as he is to suffer tortures or torments.  
Another cause which procured so great pain in my Spirit, was abundant love. For love begetteth grief and heaviness in the spirit: So as, by how much thy love towards me was more intensive or greater, by so much more is thy soul tormented with my Death and Passion. And because I have always and above comparison loved thee, and every man, more than he can love himself, therefore have I suffered greater pain than all that which any one hath ever suffered upon earth, or was to suffer, or shall suffer to the end of the world. Thou knowest, that when Paul had consented to the death and stoning of Stephen, and did persecute Christians, I said unto him, Saul, Why persecutest thou me? And yet he persecuted not me in my own proper person, but in the persons of my beloved friends; because what good or evil soever befalleth my friends, befalle●h me. And this proceedeth from the great love which I bear unto men. Thus therefore mayst thou consider, how and by what means my Passion exceeded in pain the passions of all that ever suffered, or shall suffer, because I suffered both in my Body and Soul, and that immaculate, and by nature delicate, and for so long time, to wit, for thirty four years did I suffer martyrdom in my Spirit, both for myself and all my Elect. Laurence in one night was broiled on a gridiron; Bartholomew in one day was slain; Katherine in one hour was broken on a Wheel, etc. All these tortures never hurt any one of them so much in their own bodies, as they tormented me in my Soul, for thirty four years. Whence Isay, Truly he hath suffered for our infirmities, and borne our sorrows. And therefore, I could never laugh, but often weep, appearing as one of forty years, when I was scarce thirty. Which came to pass, by reason of the continual Justice, which I incessantly bore for my Passion that was to come, and the suffering of my Elect, which I always clearly beheld, and painfully suffered by strength of imagination. Whereupon I oftimes said unto my Father, Many are my groans: and my heart is sorrowful. To thee likewise do I say, that thou mayst be moved with compassion and affection towards me, that my life is waxen old with heaviness, and my years with mourning.  Sinner. 
Surely, O my good Jesus, as I have heard and understood, no conceit can sufficiently apprehend the depth of those anguishes and sorrows of thy most holy Soul, nor griefs and passions of thy Body. But a very deep question doth trouble my mind, to wit, how heaviness, pain, or anguish could befall thy blessed soul, seeing it was always in great joy through Contemplation of thy Divinity, which was so amiable to behold, that if the damned in Hell could but behold the amiable countenance of God, as the blessed Spirits do in the Kingdom of Heaven; they could be tormented by no grief, nor heaviness, either by the fire of hell, or sight of the Devils in hell.  Christ. 
It is true, that my pure and blessed soul was glorified, albeit my Body was mortal. For my Soul, from the very instant of her conception, and ever after, even when I was upon the Cross, was as 
* O Sacred-Secret mystery, requiring of us no curious discussion, but serious devotion!  glorious, and in as great joy and delight, in respect of her superior faculties, as she is at this day in heaven, sitting at the right hand of God my Father. But in respect of her inferior faculties, she was in a continual and incessant heaviness, and sorrow for the causes aforesaid. Which could not be by course or order of Nature, that in one and the selfsame soul together, and at once, there should be so great joy, and so great heaviness, for this was miraculous and supernatural. Because, according to the course of nature, joy and delight do expel sorrow and grief, so as they cannot suffer together in one and the selfsame soul. And to the end, thou mayst more clearly understand these things, I would have thee to know, that the Source and Fountain of all my sorrows, was that high and ineffable divine dispensation, whereby it was forbid me, that the influence of my glory, and fruition thereof, which were in the superior faculties of my Soul, should redound to the inferior, for otherwise she had felt no sorrow. But because this influence was by the divine dispensation prohibited me, therefore did I at once perfectly enjoy all joy, according to the Superior faculties, and perfectly suffer and become most vehemently afflicted, according to the Inferior faculties. And thus miraculously hath the power of my Father, joined anguish with greatest sweetness, and highest power with lowest weakness. Because that this influence prohibited me, was altogether repugnant to the course of Nature. For natural it is, and according to the course of Nature, that the Superior powers or faculties redound to the inferior, and the Inferior have impression in the Superior. And by how much this Dispensation was more wonderful, by so much was my sorrow more sharp and doleful. Thou art to know also, that I kept my natural strength during my Passion, even to the point of death. Whereby it followeth, that my Passion was more dolorous.  Sinner. 
Surely, he is worthy of death, who refuseth to live to thee, my LORD JESUS, who laidst down thy life for us. Yea, though alive, yet he is 
* He is dead in trespasses who liveth not in the remembrance of Christ's Passion, by washing his precious wounds with pious tears of holy compassion.  dead, who in the remembrance of thy most bitter continual Passion, and representation of thy Crucifying, beareth not thy pricks in his body, by sharpness of repentance: and upon the altar of his heart, crucifieth not himself for thee, by making a Cross for himself to repress carnal delights.  Christ. 
He that will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his Cross daily, and follow me.  Sinner. 
O Jesus, the power of God, and the wisdom of God, give me the understanding of these words.  Christ. 
In these my words, I have proposed three things to a reasonable man, made to the Image of God; to wit, 
* Three ●●ngular precepts of Christian imitation.  Servitude, Lowliness, Sharpness. Servitude is employed in denying himself: Lowliness, in bearing of my Cross: Sharpness, in imitation of me. That he, who by disobedience fell from the state of a threefold felicity, might rise again by Obedience, being humbled with the affliction of a threefold misery. For he had fallen from himself, from society of the Angels, from the sight of God, that is, from Dignity, Liberty, Felicity. Let him therefore hear my counsel, that by denying himself, 
Christ's counsel.  that is, his own proper will, he may regain his own Liberty; by taking up his Cross, that is, by choosing to be contemned, and disvalue by others, he may regain the Angel's society: By following me, that is, by imitating the steps of my Passion, by chastising of his flesh, he may regain the sight of my glory.  Sinner. 
Truly, it is meet and right, yea necessary, that they suffer with thee, who will reign with thee, that they imitate thee, who will enjoy thee.  Christ. 
Happy is this sentence of thine own mouth. Happy, yea three and fourfold happy is he, who always considereth how straight and narrow, how bitter and sharp the way is, which leadeth to life, when it behoved me to suffer, that I might enter into my glory. If I bought my own glory at so high a rate: Who shall have it altogether freely, and for nothing? Therefore, there is no other way, by which thou canst come to the heavenly reward, but by labours and afflictions. That Rich man, who chastised not himself with labours of repentance in this world, is now in eternal pain in hell. But the Poor man, with the dolour and labour of this miserable life, hath purchased a crown of eternal glory.  Sinner. 
Woe is me, that I am alured with the sweetness of carnal delights, and deceived with the vanity of secular joys; when as I ought to imitate thee, whom I read to have oft sorrowed and lamented, but once in Spirit to have rejoiced. Marry thy Virgin-Mother once rejoiced in a So●g. O how of●en hath the sword of sorrow gone thorough her Soul! john, thy forerunner, Pattern and Preacher of repentance, rejoiced once in his mother's womb, but how often may we well believe that he lamented after his coming from her womb?  Christ. 
When I hung upon the Cross, I promised Paradise to none, but one that was upon the Crosse. Such are upon the Cross, who crucify their flesh, with the vices and concupiscences thereof. Upon the Cross also I prayed only for such as sinned negligently, not for such as sinned wittingly. For so long as they are such sinners, they are excluded from the embraces of me that was crucified; who with hands spread upon the Cross, embraced all, for whom I suffered. If thou wilt therefore ascend after me, and reign in heaven with me, thou must follow me by the way of the 
* The way by the Cross, is the way to the Crown●●.  Cross, by which I have entered into my glory. Look for no easier way; in the way which I have gone before thee, thou must follow. For if thou stray from my steps, thou shalt perish. Attend diligently, that thou mayst know, by what way thou mayst ascend into Heaven. At such time as I came into the World, I descended by a 
* The Christians Ladder, conducting him to Christ his Saviour.  Ladder that had three steps, to wit, of humility, whence it is read of me, Thou shalt find the Babe: of Poverty, whence it followeth in the same place, Wrapped in clothes: And of austerity, as ensueth, laid in a manger. And by these steps I afterwards returned to heaven. These steps mine excellent Apostle Paul intimateth, writing thus of me; He emptied himself, behold the step of Poverty! Taking upon him the form of a Servant: behold the step of Humility! becoming obedient even unto death: behold the step of Austerity! But whither hath this Ladder of three steps brought me? Hear what followeth. For this cause therefore hath the Lord exalted him, and given him a name which is above all names. Fool's therefore and madmen are they, who would ascend up into heaven after me by a Ladder that hath steps contrary to these; to wit, by Richesse, Delights, and Honours. Surely, this Ladder leadeth to Hell, as the first did to Heaven.  Sinner. 
It is a great shame for the servant to be feasting and idling, while his Master is suffering and labouring.  Christ. 
Whosoever devoutly meditateth of this my Passion, cannot but be ashamed to follow the pleasure of the flesh. The memory of my crucifying, crucifie●h all vices. In the pains of my Passion, all the delights of the flesh, and of the world are condemned: which, if thou wouldst subdue without difficulty, thou must devoutly remember my Passion, and sweetly delighting thyself in it, sincerely cleave to my wounds; yea, if thou wouldst foil and resist the Devil, who especially pursueth and persecuteth the religious, and restrain him from annoying thee, thou oughtest daily and devoutly to remember my Passion. But necessary it is, that they imprint the example and fimilitude of my Crucifying in their manners, who imprint the sign of my Cross for their defence in their foreheads; that by his Law they may be form, by whose Faith they are armed. For otherwise, he disloyally beareth the stamp of his King, whose will he doth not observe. Neither doth he rightly protect himself with his sign, whose command he doth not obey.  Sinner. 
O good Jesus, vouchsafe to bestow on my hearing a fuller joy, by recounting to me thy most unworthy Sinner, the rest of those benefits and fruits, arising from the daily remembrance of thy most holy Passion.  Christ. 
The memory of my death, by a daily ruminating thereof, aught to burn upon the altar of thy mind, for many reasons.  
First, because thou canst do nothing more acceptable unto me, than to exercise thine heart in my most holy Passion, with love, compassion, reverence, and imitation. Whereof thou canst not doubt, being assured thereof by many authorities of holy Scripture. Wherefore I do advise thee to stamp my painful love, and loving pain in thy soul, and to be thankful unto me, saying: 
* The Christians Signet with his Posy.  Set me, as a signet, upon thine heart: As if he should say, Love me, as I love thee. Remember not only how great things I have done for thee, but how sharp and unworthy things I have suffered for thee, and see if thou dost not give me an ill requital, if thou dost not love me. For tell me, who loves thee as I do? Who desireth to be loved of thee, as I do? Set me, therefore, as a signet upon thine heart, that thou mayst love me with all thy strength: upon thine arm, that thou mayst perform those things which please me with all thine affection: upon thine heart, that whatsoever is dear unto thee, thou mayst set aside for me, and always prefer me, and always more and more love me.  
Secondly, thou oughtest continually to remember my Passion, because by it thou art led by the hand to the love of God. For by my Passion, I have shown to thee the quantity of my affection. And love deserveth love again. Understand what I say; I would not reedeme man with prayer, for so oft times man freeth man from captivity. Nor with the price of gold and silver: for so sheep and Oxen are bought: but with the price of my blood, that by the price of the thing bought, my love might be weighed. Do not therefore disesteem thy worth: consider oft times thy price. If I had redeemed man with gold or silver, it might have been thought, that the soul of man had been comparable ● to temporal riches. That which is redeemed, is more precious than that by which it is redeemed: Therefore the soul of man is more precious than my blood.  
Thirdly, ●or stirring of devotion; Whence it was that Samson found an Honeycombe in the mouth of a dead Li●n. I am the Lion of the Tribe of Iud●, in whose death the honeycombe of devotion is found, wherewith the spirit of man is refreshed. O that thou wouldst seriously consider, how upon the Cross my mouth appeared like one halfe-alive, open, and my tongue bloody; surely, if thou hadst an heart of iron, it would have melted with compassion and devotion.  
The fourth fruit arising from the memory of my Passion is, that in it is found a guard of defence against all Enemies. Whereupon my Apostle Peter; Christ suffered for you, arm yourselves likewise with the same mind. And I say; Enter into the rock. As a Soldier, who unable to withstand his enemy in the field, flieth to his Tents. Briefly, the 
* Meditation of Christ's Sacred Passion, a sovereign receipt against Satan's temptation.  Enemy shall prevail nothing against him, whom the daily exercise of my Passion doth delight.  
The fifth is, because with no exercise is man so much enriched as with my merits, applied to him, and made his, by the hand of faith; for the foundation of all grace, and the root of merit, (as it hath sole relation to me, and derived to man by Faith in me) consisteth in the sorrow of heart and body, for my Crosse. For this cause mine Elect Apostle said; I have esteemed myself to know nothing, but JESUS CHRIST, and him crucified. And that devout son of my blessed mother, Bernard, 
* A Christians Philosophy.  It is my highest philosophy (said he) to know CRIST JESUS, and him Crucified. But thou oughtest to grieve, because there are many enemies of my Crosse. For the lovers of pleasures are my persecutors; they are guilty of my death, not as authors or fautors, but as contemners 〈◊〉 my death: These are they, who make the merit of my Passion in them of no effect; who make themselves unworthy of mine heavenly blessing, & unspeakable glory: who living in their delights, laugh at the mystery of my Passion; who tread me the Son of God under their feet, and lay reproach upon the Spirit of Grace. A carnal life is an injury unto God, contempt of my Cross, and redoundeth to the contumely of all the blessed Trinity.  
The sixth is, the allaying of the labours and dolours encountering man in his way of repentance, and life of Religion. For a devout faithful Soldier hath no feeling of his own wounds, when he seeth the wounds of his loving Captain. And to this end have I contemned all earthly goods, that I might show how they were to be contemned: and sustained all adverse things, that I might teach how they were to be sustained.  
The seventh is, the extinguishing of carnal desires: for with the sight of my Passion, whatsoever is carnal● decreaseth.  
The eighth is, the stirring of compunction and repentance for sinews. For who is he that grieveth not highly, when he recals to mind how his sins were so odious to God the Father, that for taking them away, he would have his beloved Son crucified and put to death?  
The ninth is, the begetting of good hope and confidence: For in my Cross the Sinner hath his Sanctuary, as a murderer flying for refuge to the Churchyard. Nothing is so bitter even unto death, which may not be cured by my death: I have changed the sentence of thy eternal punishment, into the crucifying of my Body, subject to a dolorous languishment. For I, in that sentence which Pilate pronounced against me, taking upon me, the person of all Sinners, to purge their sins wherein they had long laboured, was adjudged to death for all Sinners.  Sinner. 
I conceive and contemplate by this which thou (my good Jesus) hast said, that albeit this sentence was very unjust, and therefore execrable in respect of thee, because man had no power over God, the wicked over the just: yet in respect of us, it was manifold common modious and profitable: and the reason hereof is amiable and venerable; because he wholly reversed that sentence pronounced upon the first man, for sin. For the sentence of a doleful exclusion was denounced against him. Whence it is written, The Lord cast out man from the Paradise of pleasure, and set an Angel to keep the way of the tree of life. But happy and honourable was thy sentence, because 〈◊〉 called back a banished man, for by this sentence the Son for the servant was injuriously cast out of his inheritance, by the husbandmen of the Vineyard, the Law of Moses. Therefore thy Apostle saith, That Jesus might sanctify us, he suffered without the gate. And well it was that he suffered without, that he might bring us back again to within: for we have entrance by his blood. But I beseech thee (most loving Jesus) from the very inward affection of mine heart, by those pains, with which, as with most sharp arrows, thy most sweet heart was pierced, and those of the Virgin thy blessed Mother, at the hearing of that sentence of thycondemnation; that I may deserve through thy merits, to be delivered in the hour of my death, and the last day of judgement, from thatsharp and terrible word of the sentence of eternal damnation, which thou wilt thunder out against the reprobates: Depart from me ye cursed into everlasting fire, prepared for the Devil and his angels.  Christ. 
Happy is he, from whose memory the last judgement never departeth, that by the fear thereof, he may preserve his life from naughtiness and pleasure of the flesh. For surely, that judgement is highly to be feared, wherein all things are made manifest without witnesses, where the Host of all the Angels and Saints shall stand round about, 
The terror of the last judgement.  and every creature shall tremble with exceeding fear, before my Tribunal seat. What will they say then, who in this short time have lived negligently and carelessly? Mean time I expect you patiently, and invite you all to my kingdom lovingly. Time will come, when I shall require an account of you, for this your negligence, and shall say unto you, For you am I made crooked, for you (I say) am I made crooked upon the earth, for you am I scourged, for you with spittings defiled, for you is my face buffeted, for you am I unjustly condemned, for you am I crucified, for you upon wood am I hanged, with gall am I fed, and with vinegar quenched, that I might make you all Saints eternally crowned. I have called you all my Brethren, I have offered you to my Father, I have sent you my holy Spirit, I have promised said to you Paradise. What should I have done more, and I have not done it, that ye might be saved? Tell me ye Sinners: What have ye suffered for me your governor, who when I was just, suffered so great things for your sakes? These truly shall be demands proper for that day of judgement.  Sinner. 
Alas, miserable wretch that I am, what shall I say, or what shall I do, when I shall not be able to show aught that is good before so great a Judge?  Christ. 
Amend thy life, while time is: change thy manners, overcome evil temptations by resisting, punish sins committed by lamenting. Let thy sin find thee here a punisher, that thou mayst find me there no Judge but a Saviour.  
If thou dost these things faithfully and with constant affiance, 
A most comfortable Conclusion.  thou shalt be secure in the terrible day of vengeance. Neither let the greatness of thy sins terrify thee: for I am much more merciful, than thou art finfull. Surely great is thy misery, but infinite is my mercy. If thou be asinfull man, I am the Lamb of GOD, that taketh away the sins of the world: who came not to call the just, but sinners. In a word, more mercy and love shalt thou find in me, than thou darest either hope for, or wish for.   

A FAMILIAR Expostulation of the Flesh, to GOD the Father, ●ouching CHRIST. By 〈…〉 Book en●●●led Stimulus Amoris. Cap. XIV.  
GIve ear, how the Flesh lifteth up the Soul against the Spirit, contemplatively raised, yea even against Christ. For, saith the Flesh: I prefer my complaint to thee God the Father, just and of infinite mercy, touching thy Son; beseeching thee, that thy justice would consider the injury done me, and that thy mercy would condescend to my misery. This thy Son full of knowledge and power, hath circumvented me by his wisdom, and 〈…〉 violence by his power. This thy Son by his wisdom clothing himself with flesh, became like unto me, and by his too much humility and ineffable benignity, craftily entered in upon me: He became more humble than all, he became despicable to all, he took upon him the necessities of all, he bore the infirmities of all, he vouchsafed to be most cruelly crucified for all, to be afflicted as well with compassion, as in his most grievous passion, through mere affection to all, to express the love of his heart, by the opening of his side, and from thence to derive those Sacraments which gave remedy to all mankind. What should I say more? He hath ordained his flesh for meat, 
Mat. 26.  his blood for drink, and promised himself for a reward, inasmuch as he girded himself, and being to depart thence, ministered to such as eat at thy table. 
Luke 12.  By all these means, and many others, which I neither know, nor am able to declare, hath he not only wondrously alured my Soul, deputed to the support and comfort of me, but by entering in unto her, hath so highly drawn her by his power, and so joined her unto him by his delights, as now she cares not at all for me, but rather afflicts, dejects, treads down, and vilifies me; and that which seems grievouser than all things else, she loves those that lay this disgrace on me, remembering him or them more especially in her prayer, who infer these injuries on me; and if none as yet be done me, she desires that hereafter they may be done me. Thus am I mortified, and she cares not; Thus lie I grovelling in mud, and she rejoiceth: Yea, it is the very highest pitch of her desire, to see my sorrow with new sorrow multiplied, that my sorrow might be more sensibly conceived. This seems to be her glory to bring injuries, contumelies, and whatsoever is worst upon me. Thus leaves she me desolate and afflicted; mean time, it is her desire to remain still with thy Son, still to be fed with his flesh, made drunk with his blood, and wheresoever he is, to be ever with him. Now she appeareth like a small tender infant with him in the manger; now she embraceth him in the arms of the blessed Virgin; now is she nourished with him, with the milk of the Virgin. Now she hungers with him, now she thirsts with him, now is she spit upon with him, now is she wounded with him, now is she sorrowful upon the Cross with him, now with thee in heaven rejoiceth she with him, she is comforted with him; wheresoever he go, she goes with him, she cannot endure to be from him, she can intend herself to nought without him: What shall I say to thee, O Father, touching thy Son, who hath made my soul given unto me, so drunk with his love, and thus estranged her from me? If he hath robbed me, thou mayst command restitution to be made me. Neither seems it to me a small injury, thus to deprive me of this precious and inestimable jewel of my mind. For why doth my soul appointed for me, only love thy Son; why doth she thus hate me, why relinquisheth she all things concerning me? Behold, how she swallowed up with the incomparable love of thy Son, walketh as one without sense; now there is nought else she heareth, nought else she thinketh, or tasteth, nought else she smelleth, being always desirous to rest in his arms. There is she joyed, there is she cheered, there abundantly delighted, there, made drunk with too much love, is she lodged. Neither is it to be wondered at, if this my Soul cleave so constantly to thy Son: Because, unless she were harder than stone, and more insensible than iron, seeing thy Son hath done such great things for her, she can do no less than this for him. Yea, where is that stone so hard which would not rend with the heat of so great love, yea melt like wax, if all these aforesaid benefits should be done it? I do not then complain to thee, O most benign Father of my Soul, for that she hath done no more than she ought: but of thy Son, who hath so forcibly alured her with the benefits of his mercy, and by that means left me in so great misery.   

An Answer of the Father to the Flesh. Cap. XV.  
ATtend and hearken, what answer this most gracious Father makes to the Flesh. Forasmuch as thou art my creature, I will show thee Justice with Mercy. Whereas then thou wert ordained to be the Souls Handmaid, yet hadst ever a desire to play the Mistress, and demeaning thyself always inordinately, hast caused her to serve thee and not me, by making her prone unto all evil, and which is worse, hast subjected her, who was made after my image, to the bondage of Satan. Thou, I say, who hast made her worse than any brute beast, being by thee defiled and abominably polluted, yea, above all darkness blackened, and so much altered, as I cannot know that noble creature stamped and form to so glorious a feature: Needful it was then, because I loved her so much that was enclosed in thy Flesh, that my Son should take Flesh upon him, that so he might allure her to his and my love. And because the Soul by cleaving to thee, her Flesh was become dead, it was my will that my Son who became Flesh should be slain for her, that she might be quickened. Neither was this in my Son any circumvention or deceiving, but mine and his ineffable vouchsafing. And because thou, O Flesh, hast done evilly ever from thy first infusion, but my Son hath been inflamed towards thy Soul with exceeding affection, and hath wholly given himself up for her redemption, therefore my justice exacteth many things, especially, that I wholly and totally resign her unto him, and that she abhor thee more than dung, and that she desire that thou mayst be abhorred of all. But forasmuch as thou hast be sought not only my justice but Mercy; it is my will that thou in some measure be refreshed with that present sweetness which thy Soul feeleth in my Son; yea more than all this, I will hereafter endow thee most nobly and most perfectly: and if thou be'st truly obedient to thy Soul, from henceforth deliver thee from eternal punishment, and bring thee to an inheritance gloriously permanent, where I live eternally resident.   

A pithy Meditation upon this Expostulation and Answer, to inflame the Soul with a devout fervour.  
IS it so, O my Soul, that she, whom thou hast so daintily cockered, with whom thou hast so familiarly conversed, and to whom thou hast so easily consented, is thy domestic Enemy, and by so much more fearful because domestical? Chastise her whom thou hast cherished, estrange thee from her, with whom thou hast so freely consorted, incline not to her, to whose advice thou hast so freely condescended. It is Ishmael that playeth with thee; who, whilst she plays with thee, plays upon thee. Look upon that gracious Shepherd, who hath sought thee; fix thine eye upon that precious price, with which he bought thee. The worth of the whole world comes far short of the worth of that price; be it then thine highest honour to advance his praise. Let no sin soil that image which is so richly beautified: Let no cloud obscure that light which was so freely bestowed. He that took on him Flesh for thee, he that in his Flesh suffered so much for thee, he that gave himself to gain thee, and showed himself so truly thine to retain thee: Let him solely and wholly have thee. Suffer not thy Flesh to converse with thee, till she become a true Convert in the practice of piety. Better is it for thee by contempt of thy Flesh to augment thine own honour, than by obedience to thy Flesh to procure thy dishonour. Short is the Fight, but great is the Conquest. Recoil not; for thou hast him for thy 
* Imperator noster Christus eum hostem vicit, qui adhuc omnes Imperatores stravit. Miscell. Theor. Itin.  Chieftain, who hath vanquished that foe, who, to this hour, hath given all Chieftains the foil. Fight valiantly then under his banner; embrace all contempts for his honour. Erect the eye of thy Faith to Heaven, while thou directest thy feet on Earth, that after thy well-past pilgrimage on Earth, thou mayst be rewarded with a lasting inheritance in Heaven.  
Amen.   

GENERAL Rules of living well.  
The highest pitch of Wisdome's piety,  
By which man's taught both how to live & die.  
EVery day drawest thou nearer than other to Death, Judgement, and Eternity. Bethink then with thyself every day, how thou mayst stand in the severe discussion of death and judgement, and how thou mayst eternally live. Thou art to take an exact account of all thy thoughts, words and deeds, because an exact account is to be given of all thy thoughts, words and deeds. Think every evening, that death is that night approaching: Think every morning, that death is that day accosting. Defer not thy conversion, nor the performance of any good action till to morrow, because to morrow is uncertain, but death is ever certainly waiting. There is nothing that hinders piety more than delay. If thou contemn the inward calling of the holy Spirit, thou shalt never come to true conversion. Do not defer thy conversion, nor the practice of any religious action to thy old age; but offer unto God the flower of thy youth: Uncertain is old age to the young, but certain destruction attendeth him that dieth impenitently young. There is no Age more fit for the service of God, than youth, flourishing in abilities both of body and mind. For no man's sake oughtest thou to take in hand an evil action; for not that man which thou so respectedst, but God in whose breast all the treasures of wisdom are stored, shall in the end judge thy life: Do not then prefer any man's favour before the honour of thy Maker. In the way of the Lord we either increase or decrease: Take examination then of thy life every day, whether in the practice of piety thou increasest or decreasest. To stand in the way of the Lord is to go back. Let it not then delight thee to stand in the course of piety, but endeavour always to walk in the way of the Lord. In thy conversation be cheerful to all, distasteful to none, familiar to few: Live to Godward devoutly, to thyself chastely, to thy Neighbour justly. Use thy friend as a pledge of affection, thine enemy for a trial of thy patience, all men to a well-disposed benevolence, and wherein thou mayst more effectually work to beneficence. While thou livest, die daily to thyself and to thy vices; So in thy death mayst thou live to God. Let meekness appear in thy affection, mildness in thy countenance, humility in thy habit, modesty in thy habitation, patience in tribulation. Let facility be in thine access, decency in thy dress, humility in thy presence, affability in thy discourse, benignity in thy ways, charity in thy works. Let constancy be in thine eye, content in thy chest, temperance in thy cup. Observe moderation in thy desires, discretion in thy delights. Think always of those 3. things past, Evil committed, Good omitted, Time mis-spended. Think always of these 3. things present: ●he shortness of this present life, the difficulty of being saved, the fewness of those that are to be saved. Think always of these three things to come, Death, than which nothing is more horrible; Judgement, than which nothing is more terrible; the pain of Hell, than which nothing more intolerable. Let thine Evening Prayers redeem the sins of the forepast day; let the last day of the week reform the offences of the days gone before. Think in the Evening, how many souls are that same day thrown headlong into Hell; and give thanks unto God, for that he hath given thee time to repent in. There be three things above thee, which ought never to depart from thy memory: That Eye which seeth all things, that Ear which heareth all things, and those books wherein all things are recorded. Wholly hath God communicated himself to thee; communicate thyself likewise wholly to thy neighbour. That is the best life, which is wholly employed to the behoof and benefit of others. Render to thy superior obedience and reverence, to thy equal counsel and assistance, to thy inferior succour & supportance. Let thy body be subjected to thy mind, and thy mind to God. Bewail thy evils passed, disesteem thy goods present, covet with all the desire of thine heart those goods to come. Remember thy sin, that thou mayst grieve: Remember thy death, that thou mayst cease from sin: Remember God's justice, that thou mayst fear: Remember God's mercy, lest thou despair. Withdraw thyself as much as thou canst, from the World, and devote thyself wholly to the service of God: Think always, how chastity is endangered by delicacy, humility by prosperity, and piety by employments transitory. Desire to please none but Christ: fear to displease none but Christ. Beseech God always, that as he bids what he would, so he would do what he bids: that he would protect what is done, and direct in what is to be done: Endeavour thyself to be what thou wouldst have thyself thought to be; for God judgeth not according to the outward semblance, but according to the inward substance. In thy discourse beware of much speech, because account shall be required of every vain word. Whatsoever thy works be, they pass not away, but as certain seeds of eternity, are they bestowed: if thou sow according to the flesh, from the flesh shalt thou reap corruption: if thou sow after the Spirit, from the Spirit shalt thou reap the reward of eternal retribution. After death, neither shall the honours of this World follow thee, nor heaps of riches favour thee, nor pleasures enjoy thee, nor the vanities of this World possess thee, but after the fatal and full period of this life all thy works shall follow thee. As than thou desirest to appear in the day of judgement, appear such in the sight of God at this present. Think not with thyself what thou hast, but rather what thou want'st: Pride not thyself for that which is given thee, but rather become humbled for that which is denied thee. Learn to live now while thou mayst live. In this time is eternal life either got or lost. After death there remains no time for working, for than begins the time of rewarding: In the life to come is not expected any work, but payment for the work. Holy Meditation may beget in thee knowledge, knowledge compunction, compunction devotion, devotion may produce prayer. Great good for peace of the heart, is the silence of the mouth: By how much more as thou art divided from the World, so much more acceptable art thou unto God. Whatsoever thou desirest to have, ask it of God; whatsoever thou already hast, attribute it to God: He is not worthy to receive more, who is not thankful for what he hath received: Then stops the course or current of God's grace to man, when man makes no recourse by thankfulness to God: Whatsoever befalls thee, turn it to good; so often as prosperity comes upon thee, think how occasion of blessing and praising God is ministered unto thee; again so often as adversity assails thee, think how these are admonitions for the repentance and conversion of thee. Show the force of thy power in helping, the force of thy wisdom in instructing, the force of thy wealth in relieving. Neither let Adversity bruise thee, nor Prosperity raise thee: Let Christ be thy scope of thy life, whom thou art to follow here in the way, that thou mayst come to him there in thy country. Amongst all other things, let profound humility, & ardent Charity be thy greatest care. Let charity raise thine heart unto God, that thou mayst cleave unto him: Let humility depress thine heart, les● thou become proud & so leave him. Esteem God a Father for his clemency, a Lord for his discipline; a Father for his sweet power, a Lord for his severe power; Love him as a Father devoutly, fear him as a Lord necessarily: Love him because he will have mercy: Fear him, because he will not suffer sin. Fear the Lord, and trust in him; acknowledge thy misery, and declare his mercy. O God, thou who hast given us to will, give us likewise to perform.   

THE SORROWFUL Souls solace, Gathered from Saint Augustine in his Tract Upon the 62. Psalm, Upon these words.  My Soul thirsteth for thee, my Flesh also longeth after thee. 
BEhold here how the Soul thirsteth; and see how good it is for the Soul that thirsteth; to wit, because she thirsteth after thee. There are who thirst, but not after God. Every one that would in his own behalf have aught performed, is in heat of desire, till he have it effected; and this desire is the thirst of the Soul. Now see what various desires are in the hearts of men: One desireth gold, another silver, one desireth possessions, another inheritances, one store of money, another stock of cattle▪ one a fair house, another a wife, one honours, another children. You see these desires, how they are in the hearts of men. All men thirst after one desire or other, yet can there scarce one be found, who may say, My Soul hath thirsted after thee. For men thirst after this World, and they understand not how they are in the wilderness of Idumaea, where their soul ought to thirst after God. Let us therefore say, My Soul hath thirsted afther thee; Let us all say, (for we are all but one Soul in our fellowship with (Christ:) Let this our soul thirst in Idumaea: My Soul (saith he) hath thirsted after thee, and my Flesh hath longed sore for thee. He held it too little for the Soul only to thirst, but that his Flesh should thirst. Now I would know, seeing the Soul thirsteth after God, how the Flesh may be said to thirst after God: For when the Flesh thirsteth, it thirsteth after water; when the Soul thirsteth, she thirsteth after the fountain of Wisdom; of which fountain our Souls shall be made drunk, as is said in another Psalm, They shall be satisfied with the plenteousness of thy house: 
Psal. 36.  and thou shalt give them drink of thy pleasures, as out of thy river.  
We are then to thirst after wisdom, to thirst after righteousness. Nor shall we be satisfied with this, nor filled with that, till this our frail life shall be ended, and we come to that which God hath promised. For God hath promised to make us equal with the Angels. Now the Angels thirst not as we do, nor hunger as we do, but partake of the food of truth, the food of light of immortal wisdom. Therefore are they blessed: And in so great blessedness (being in that heavenly City of Jerusalem, from which we are here as Aliens) they take care of us poor pilgrims, they commiserate us, and by God's appointment they assist us, that at last we may return to our common Country, & there at last with them be satisfied with that divine fountain of truth & eternity. Wherefore let our Soul now thirst, & let our flesh also thirst eagerly. Yea My flesh (saith he) longeth after thee: because to our flesh, is resurrection promised by thee. Even as blessedness is promised to our soul: so also is resurrection promised to our flesh. Such is the Resurrection of the flesh which is promised unto us. Hear, learn, and understand what may be the hope of Christians. For what end are we Christians? Not to this end are we Christians, that we should seek earthly happiness, which even Thiefs and malefactors ofttimes enjoy. No, we are Christians for another kind of happiness, which shall be then by us received, when this our transitory life shall be ended. For this then is the Ressurection of flesh promised to us. And such is the resurrection of flesh to us promised, that this same flesh which we now carry about us, may rise in the end, and retain her incorruptible glory without end. Neither let this seem incredible unto you, because you see the dead falling to corruption, and returning to dust and ashes. Suppose that any dead corpse should be burnt to ashes, or that dogs should tear it, do you therefore think that it shall not rise again? All these parts which you see piecemeal divided, and into small grains of dust resolved, remain all whole with GOD; for into them do the Elements of the world pass, from whence they first came, when we were made: These we do not see, yet will God, when he knows his own time, produce them; who before we were made, when his sacred will was, produeed us from them. Such Resurrection of the flesh is promised to us, that, albeit this flesh which we now carry, be the same which shall rise again, yet must it not have that corruption, which it now hath. For now through the corruption of our frailty, if we eat not, we faint and hunger; if we drink not, we faint and thirst for water; if we wake long, we faint and fall a sleep; if we sleep long, we faint and so awake; if we eat and drink long, albeit we eat and drink for nourishment, yet doth this long refection become a defection; if we stand long, we are weary, and therefore we fit; and if we fit long, we become wearied, and therefore we rise. Then consider, how there is no constant state in our flesh: because our infancy flieth away into childhood, and then if thou seek infancy, there is no infancy, because it is now childhood, which was even now infancy. Again, that childhood passeth into youth, and then if thou seek childhood, thou canst not find it. This youth becomes a man; and than if thou seek that youth, he is not to be found. This man becomes old: thou seek'st a strong man, and he is not to be found. And this old man dies: thou seekest an old man, and he is not to be found. Our age then standeth not, every where there is weariness, every where tediousness, every where corruption. Considering therefore, what hope of resurrection God promiseth unto us; in these our manifold defects, we thirst after that incorruption, and so our flesh longeth much after God. In this Idumaea, in this wilderness, by how much she laboureth, by so much more eagerly she thirsteth; by how much she is wearied, by so much she thirsteth after that infatigable incorruption, for which she was created. Albeit, my Brethren, the flesh of every good and faithful Christian in this World, thirsteth after God. Because if his flesh need bread, if it need water, if it need wine, if it need money, or what relief soever it need, he ought to beg for these at the hands of God, not from Devils and Idols, or what other Powers of this World, I know not. There are who when they suffer hunger in this World, leave God, and call on Mercury, or jupiter, or their heavenly Pan, as they call him, ●r some other such like De●ils, that they would relieve ●hem: these men's flesh thirst●ot ●ot after their God. For ●hey that thirst after God, every where aught to thirst both ●n soul and flesh; because God both giveth his bread 〈◊〉 the Soul, that is, the Word of truth; and God giveth to the flesh also, whatsoever are necessary, because God made both the soul and the flesh. For thy flesh, thou call'st upon Devils: tell me, hath God made thy soul, and the Devils made thy flesh? He who made thy soul, he likewise made thy flesh. He who made them both, he likewise feeds them both. Let both these in us thirst after God, and out of much labour be moderately refreshed, that in him, to whom we are solely devoted, we may be wholly fixed.  

Meditation.  
O My Soul, recollect thyself! hast thou thirsted after thy Saviour? Hast thou followed him in the sweet smell of his savour? Hast thou left thy thirst after gold, possessions, honours, beauty? Hast thou tendered to him thy sole and sovereign duty? Hast thou only relied on his providence? Rested in his goodness? Fear not, so thou fail not: Thou shalt be ranked, where the Saints are only numbered, by an happy arrival in the land of righteousness; which he give thee, who gave himself for thee.    


☜  
In terris;  
Vita nostra,  
Dies una.   

☞  
In coelis;  
Dies una,  
Lux aeterna.   
Man's Mutability. A Meditation extracted out of S. Augustine, in his Tract Upon the 121. Psal. Upon these words,  jerusalem is builded as a city, that is compact together in itself. Vers. 11. 
NOw, my Brethren, whosoever erecteth the light of his mind, whosoever layeth aside the darkness of his flesh, whosoever cleareth the eye of his heart, let him lift up and see what this It self is. How shall I call itself, but itself? O my Brethren, if you can, understand what is this itself. For even I myself, if I should speak any thing else but itself, do not speak itself; Yet do we labour by some near affinities of words and significant proprieties to bring the infirmity of the mind, to meditate of this Itself. What is this itself? That which is always one and in the same manner, and not now one thing, and then another. What is then itself but that which is? And what is this which is? That which eternally is. For whatsoever is always altering from one to another, is not, because what it is abides not: Yet not so as locally it is not, but summarily it is not. And what is this which is, but he, who when he sent Moses, said unto him, 
Exod. 3.  I AM THAT I AM? And who also said, Thus shalt thou say unto the children of Israel, I AM hath sent me unto you. Behold itself, I AM THAT I AM; He who IS, hath sent me to you! But thou canst not conceive it, it is far from thee to understand it, far from thee to apprehend it. Retain therefore that which he was made for thee, since to conceive him it is far from thee. Retain the flesh of CHRIST, by which raised being sick thou mayst be relieved, and left half-dead by Thiefs wounded, thou mayst be to an Inn conducted, and cured. Let us then run to the house of the Lord, and come to the City, where our feet may stand in the gates; that City which is builded as a City, that is compact together in itself. Itself is this whereof it is said, 
Psal. 101.  Thou art the same, and thy years shall not fail. Behold itself, Whose years shall not fail! Brethren, do not our years daily fail and fade in the year? For those years which are come are not now, and those which are to come are not yet. Now are these failed which are come, and those shall fail which are to come. Hours past be already gone, and hours to pass are not yet come, & when they are come they likewise shall pass, and fail. What be those years which do not fail, but those which stand? If years then do there stand, those years which stand is one year; and that one year which stands, is one day: because that one day hath neither rising nor setting, neither begun from yesterday, nor excluded from to morrow, but standeth always the same day. And whatsoever thou wilt, thou mayst call this day; if thou wilt, they are years; if thou wilt, it is a day: think what thou wilt, yet it standeth. For this City partakes of stability, being compact together in itself. Worthily then, because it becomes partaker of this stability, doth he say who runneth thither; Our feet were standing in thy Courts, O jerusalem. For all things do there stand, where nothing passeth: Will't thou then stand there, and not pass? Run thither. None hath Itself of himself. Attend Brethren: He hath a body, but this is not itself, because it stands not in itself. It is changed by ages, it is changed by removes of places and times, it is changed by corporal diseases and defects; therefore it stands not in itself. Heavenly bodies do not stand in themselves, for they have their certain changes, though secret: certainly are these changed from place to place, they ascend from East to West, and again they go about to the East. These than do not stand, these are not Itself. Neither doth Man's Soul stand itself. For with how many alterations and cogitations is she varied, with what pleasures is she changed and from herself estranged, with what desires infected and infested? The very mind of man which is said to be reasonable, is likewise mutable, it is not itself. Now it will, now it will not: Now it knows, now it knows not: now it remembers, now it forgets. None then hath Itself of himself. He who would have had itself of himself, that he might be itself to himself, is fall'n. He is fall'n from an Angel, and become a Devil. He drunk a health to man in pride, he threw himself down by envying him who stood. He would be itself to themselves, have principality to themselves, dominion in themselves. They would not have the ●rue LORD, who truly is Itself, to whom it is said, Thou shalt change them, 
Psal. 102.  and ●hey shall be changed, but thou art the same. Now therefore, after ●o long affliction, after so many diseases, difficulties, labours, let the humbled soul return to itself, and be in that City, that is compact together in itself.   


☞  
Vera copia,  
Cupiditatis inopia.   

☜  
Vera inopia,  
Cupiditatis copia.   
Minds tranquillity. A Meditation gathered out of Saint Angustine in his Tract, upon the 147. Psal. upon these words:  Who hath set peace in thy borders. Ver. 14. 
WHo hath set peace in thy borders. How much have ye all rejoiced? Love this, my Brethren. We are much delighted, when this love of Peace cryeth from your hearts. How much hath it delighted us? Having as yet said nothing, expounded nothing, but only pronounced this verse, ye have even cried out. And what is it that hath cried from you? the love of peace: what doth it present unto your eyes? Whence do ye cry, if ye do not love? Whence do ye love, it ye do not see? Peace is invisible. Where is that Eye, by which it is seen, that it may be loved? Neither would it be cried upon, unless it were loved. These are those representments of invisible things, which God exhibits unto us. With what beauty hath the conceit of Peace seized on your hearts? What then shall I now speak of Peace, or of the praise of peace? Your affection preventeth all my words: I shall not perform it, I am not able to undergo it, I am too weak to do it. Let us defer all our praises of peace to that Country of peace. There shall we more fully praise it, where we shall more fully possess it. If we thus love peace begun in us, how much shall we praise it when perfected in us? Behold, this I say, my beloved Children, Children of the Kingdom, Citizens of Jerusalem, because in Jerusalem is the Vision of peace, and all those who enjoy and love peace are made blessed in it. This, which ye so much love and affect to hear named, pursue it, desire it, love it in your House, love it in your Business, love it in your Wives, love it in your Children, love it in your Servants, love it in your Friends, love it in your Enemies. This is that peace which Heretics have not. Now what doth peace here amidst the uncertainties of this Region, in this Pilgrimage of our mortality; where, as yet, no one is transparent to another, none seeth the heart of another, what doth peace? It judgeth not of things uncertain, it confirms not things unknown. It is apt to conceit well of man, than evilly to suspect him. It grieves her not much to have erred, in conceiving a good opinion of him that was ill-affected. But dangerous it is, to conceit ill of him who (perchance) is good, not knowing how he is disposed whom we so rashly judged. What do I lose, if I believe such an one is good? If it be uncertain whether he be evil, (albeit you are to be cautelous whether this be so,) yet are you not to condemn him as if it were so. this Peace commandeth, 
Psal. 33.  Seek peace, and ensue it. Heresy, what doth it teach? It condemns those it knows not, it condemns the whole World. We do now desire that peace which we have here in hope. For as yet, what peace is there in us? 
Galat. 5.  The flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh. Where is there full peace in any one man? when shall it be full in any one man? Even then, when it shall be full in all the citizens of Jerusalem. When shall there be full peace? 
I Cor. 15.  When this corruptible hath put on incorruption, and this mortal hath put on immortality, then shall there be full peace, then firm peace. Nothing then contesteth against the soul in man, she is not against herself, nor in any part wounded; there is no frailty of the flesh, no corporal want, no hunger, no thirst, no heat, no cold, no weariness, no want, no provoking to wrath, nor surely any cautelous care of avoiding a foe, or affecting a friend. All these things, my Brethren, fight against us, we have not yet full and perfect peace. In that ye have cried, (who even now hearing the name of peace out of your desire to peace have cried) this cry of yours proceeded from thirst, not from fullness.  
THe same Father Augustine, a glorious Light of the Church, a constant Champion for the truth, and a powerful evincer of all such Errors as opposed the Truth, in his love to peace, composed likewise this sweet Meditation, to beget in every devout heart the like affection: Gathered out of his Tract upon the 36. Psal. Upon these words: Meek men shall possess the Earth, and shall have their delight in the multitude of peace. Ver. 23.  
Upon which, with a passionate devotion, an affectionate passion, he analiseth thus: This Earth, whereof we have so often spoken, is holy Jerusalem. The Meek shall be delivered from this their pilgrimage, and shall live for ever with God, and of God. Therefore shall they possess the Earth for an inheritance. And what shall their riches be? They shall be delighted in the multitude of peace. For the wicked, he may be delighted in the multitude of Gold, in the multitude of Silver, in the multitude of Servants, lastly in the multitude and store of Wealth, of delicious Wines, sumptuous and luxurious Feasts. But admit, he should be always stored, always in these suited, were not his case to be lamented? But what shall be thy riches, what shall be thy dainties? Multitude of peace: Thy Gold shall be peace, thy Silver peace, thy Farms peace, thy Life peace, thy God peace. Whatsoever thou desirest shall be to thee peace. That which is here Gold, cannot be unto thee Silver: That which is Wine, cannot be unto thee Bread: That which is unto thee Light, cannot be drink: whereas thy God shall be to thee all things. Thou shalt eat him, and never hunger: Drink him, and never thirst: Be enlightened by him, and never become blind: Be supported by him, and never fail: He wholly shall possess thee wholly and entirely. Thou shalt suffer there no extremities for another: have him, with whom thou shalt possess all: enjoy all, and he enjoy thee all, who is all in all: because thou, and he, who is joined in society with thee shall be one: Which one, God himself shall wholly enjoy in you, 
Psal. 36.  who shall possess you. This is the end of a man that loveth peace.   


☞  
Summa ●hilosophia,  
Crucis Scientia.   

☜  
Christi vita,  
Christiani Philosophia.   
Christian Philosophy. A Meditation culled out of S. Augustine, in his Tract upon the 148. Psalm, upon these words:  
 His praise is above the earth and the heavens: for he hath exalted the horn of his people. Ver. 13. 
WHat is his Praise in Heaven and in Earth? Is it because he praiseth? No, But because all things praise him, all things cry unto to him: the beauty of all things is in some sort the voice of those which praise the Lord. The Heaven cryeth to the Lord; Thou hast made me, not I myself. The Earth cryeth, Thou hast fashioned me, not I myself. How then do these cry? When thou considerest these and findest this in these, out of thy consideration they cry, out of thy voice they cry, His praise is in Heaven and in Earth: Consider the Heaven, it is beautiful: consider the Earth, it is beautiful: both of them are together very beautiful. It is he that made them, he that guides them: it is his command that governs them: It is he that altars times, supplies moments. Even He of himself supplies them. All things therefore do praise him, whether they be in station, or motion, whether they be from Earth below, or from Heaven above, whether they be in declining or renewing. When thou seest these, and rejoicest in these, and art lifted up in Contemplation to Him that made these, and considerest how these invisible things of his are understood by these which are made, then is His praise in Heaven and in Earth, that is, thou praisest him for things earthly, thou praisest him for things heavenly. And because He made all things, and that there is nothing better than Him; whatsoever He made is below Him, and whatsoever seems pleasing in these, is less pleasing than He is. Let nothing then so much please thee in these which he hath made, as He himself, by whom they were made. But if so thou love this which He hath made, thou art much more to love Him, by whom they were made. If these be so beautiful which He hath made, much more beautiful is He by whom they were made. His praise is in Heaven and in Earth, and he shall exalt the horn of his people. Now (in this Vale of tears, and field of tares) is the Horn of his people humbled in threshing, tribulations, temptations, beating of breasts. When shall the Horn of his people be exalted? When the Lord himself shall come, and our Sun shall arise, not this which is seen with our eyes, and ariseth on the good and evil, but even that Sun whereof it is said, 
Mat. 5.  unto you that fear the Lord, 
Malac. 4.  shall the Sun of righteousness arise, & health shall be under his wings; and whereof the proud and wicked shall say, 
Wisd. 5.  The light of righteousness hath not shined unto us, and the Sun of understanding rose not upon us. He shall be our Summer. Now, fruits in Winter time appear not in the root. Thou observest how dry Trees are in winter. He that knows not the observation of these things, prunes the dry Vine before the fruit come, and, perchance, next Spring it becomes so dry, as it brings forth neither flower nor fruit, when it should come. Both these are alike in winter, this liveth, that is dead: But the life of this, and the death of that, are both in secret. The Summer approacheth; life appeareth in this, death is discovered in that. Beauty of leaves precedeth, plenty of fruit succeedeth: the Vine is attired with that beauty in her leaf, which she retains in her root. Therefore, my Brethren, we are now while we are here, in our condition like other men. Like as they are borne, eat, drink, live, and are clothed, and so pass over their life; even so the Saints. Sometimes do these things deceive men, whence it is they say, Behold, since this man became a Christian, did his head never ache? Or now being a Christian, enjoys he more than I do? O dry Vine! Thou observest the Vine planted near thee how naked it is in winter, but never how dry it is by heat of summer. The Lord our beauty will come, who lay hid in the root; and then will He exalt the horn of his people, after this our captivity wherein we mortally live. Whence it is that the Apostle saith, judge nothing before the time, 
I Cor. 4.  until the Lord come, who will lighten things that are hid in darkness, and then shall every man have praise of God. But thou wilt say, where is any root? where is any fruit? If thou believest, thou knowest where thy root is. For there it is, where thy Faith is, where thy Hope and Charity is. 
Colos. 3.  Hear the Apostle, for ye are dead: They appeared as it were dead in winter. Hear how they live, And your life is hid (saith he) with Christ in God. Behold, where thou hast thy root! When then shalt thou be adorned with beauty? When shalt thou be multiplied in fruit? Hear what followeth, When Christ which is our life shall appear, then shall ye also appear with him in glory.   

THE Souls Jubilee, Gathered from Saint Augustine, in his Tract Upon the 85. Psalm, Upon these words:  
Rejoice the Soul of thy servant: for unto thee, o Lord, do I lift up my Soul.  
For thou, Lord, art good and merciful, & of great kindness unto all them that call upon thee.  
Rejoice the Soul of thy Servant. Rejoice her, because unto thee do I raise her. She was in earth, and in earth she felt bitterness: Now, lest she should pine away through bitterness, and so lose all thy gracious sweetness, I have raised her up unto thee, Rejoice her with thee. For thou only art joyfulness: the World is full of bitterness. Surely, very rightly doth he exhort his members, that they have their hearts on high. Let them then hear it & do it: let them lift that up unto heaven, which is in an evil state while it is upon Earth. For there the heart doth not corrupt, if it be lifted up unto God. If you have corn in low places, lest it should corrupt, you remove it higher: do you then seek to prepare a place for your corn, and will you suffer your heart to corrupt on Earth? you remove your corn to an higher room, lift up your heart unto heaven. But how may I do this, will you say? What Cords, what Pulleys, what Ladders are needful? These stairs, are thy affections: thy way, is thy will. By loving thou ascendest, by neglecting thou descendest. Standing on Earth thou art in Heaven, if thou love God. For the heart is not lifted, as the body is raised. The body, that it may be raised, changeth her place, but the heart, that it may be roused, changeth her will, For unto thee, O Lord, do I lift up my soul: for thou, Lord, art good and merciful, therefore rejoice her. As one wearied and tediously affected with the bitterness of earthly things, she desires to be sweetened, and hath sought the fountain of sweetness, but could not find it on earth. For what way soever she turned herself, she found scandals, tribulations, fears, tentations: In what man living safe security? Of whom certain joy? And if not of himself, how much less from another? For either men are evil, and of necessity we must suffer them, yet hoping withal that they may be changed: or they are good, and so we ought to love them, yet fearing withal lest they become evil, because they may be changed. There, the wickedness of those begetteth bitterness of soul: here, care and fear equally surprise us, lest he fall away from us, who walked sometime uprightly among us. What way soever then the heart shall turn her, she finds bitterness in earthly things: she has not wherewithal to sweeten her, unless she lift herself up unto God her Maker. For thou, Lord, art good and merciful. What is this merciful? Thou supportest me till thou perfectest me. For truly, my Brethren, I will speak as a man unto men and of men. Let every one bring hither his heart, and behold himself without flattering and without glozing. Nothing is foolisher, than flattering & seducing ones self. Let every one then consider and see what and how many things are acted in man's heart; and how, for most part, our very prayers are hindered by various thoughts, so as our hearts will scarcely stand firm before God. It desires so to enjoy itself that it may stand, and in some sort it flies from itself, yet for all this it finds no lettices by which it may confine her thoughts, or bars by which it may restrain her distractions, and wand'ring motions, and stand joyfully before her God. Rare it is, that a prayer should occur devoutly fixed, amongst so many prayers. Now every one would say, that, what befalleth him, befalleth not another, unless we found in the Sacred Scripture of God, that David in one place prayed and said: 
2 Reg. 7.  O Lord, I have found my heart, that I may pray unto thee. He said, he had found his heart, as if it used sometimes to fly from him, and he to pursue it as a fugitive, and could not lay hold on it, and to cry unto the Lord, My heart hath forsaken me. 
Psal. 39  Therefore, Brethren, considering what he here saith, Thou art good and merciful, I conceive that for this cause he calls him a merciful God, for that he suffereth these things in us, and yet expecteth prayer from us, that he might perfect his good work in us. And when we have given it him, by offering our oblation of prayer unto him, he receiveth it freely, and heareth it friendly, neither remembers he those prayers of ours, which we so unseasonably presented, but receiveth this one which we scarcely found, yet found we humbly offered. For tell me, Brethren, what man is he, with whom if his friend shall begin to talk, and he will not answer him, but observes him to decline from him, and to direct his discourse unto another, as if he were wholly aliened from him, who, I say, could endure this? Or suppose thou shouldst intercede a Judge, and address thyself to him in such a place as he may hear thee, and suddenly, when thou shouldst speak unto him, thou leavest him, or entertainest some trifling discourse with thy friend, how could he endure this? Yet doth God suffer so many hearts of such as pray, and think of many wand'ring thoughts while they pray, I forbear to speak of thoughts hurtful, I forbear to speak of things depraved and offensive unto God: for to think even of superfluous thoughts, is an injury unto him, with whom thou speakest. Thy Prayer is a speech unto God. When thou readest. GOD speaks unto thee: When thou prayest, thou speakest with God.  
But what? Are we to despair of mankind, and now conclude, that every man is damned, when any wand'ring thought shall creep in upon him, and interrupt his prayer? If we should conclude thus, Brethren, I do not see what hope might remain in us. But forasmuch as we have hope in God, for great is his mercy, let us say unto him; Rejoice the soul of thy servant: For unto thee, O Lord, do I lift up my soul. And how have I lifted it up? As much as I could, as much as thou gavest me strength, as soon as I was able to lay hold on my fugitive soul. So long as thou stoodst before me (suppose him to speak in the person of God) thou entertainedst such vain & superfluous thoughts, as thou scarcely pouredst forth one fixed or stable prayer unto me. What more canst thou answer unto this, but, that thou Lord art good and merciful? merciful thou art in suffering me. I fall away through sickness, heal me, and I shall stand: strengthen me, and I shall be strong. Mean time, till thou dost this, thou sufferest me: for thou Lord, art gracious and very merciful. Not only merciful, but very merciful. For our iniquity aboundeth, and thy mercy aboundeth Yea full of mercy art thou to all such as call upon thee. What is it then that the Scripture saith in so many places, 
Prov. 1▪  They shall call upon me, but I will not answer. (Certainly he is merciful to all such as call upon him) unless it be for that some calling upon him, do not call upon him, of whom it is said, 
Psal. 13.  They have not called upon God? They call, but not upon God. Thou callest for what thou lovest: Thou callest for what thou wishest in thee; thou callest for what thou wouldst have come to thee. Wherefore, if for this end thou call upon God, that money may come to thee, that an inheritance may descend to thee, that temporal dignity may befall thee, thou callest upon him for those things which thou desirest that they may come unto thee: But thou makest God here a furtherer of thy lusts, not a favourer of thy desires. Is God good, if he give thee what thou wouldst have? What if thou wouldst have what is ill? were he not more merciful unto thee in not giving thee what thou wouldst have? Yet, for all this, if he do not give it thee, God is as nothing unto thee: For thou sayest, How long have I sought, how oft have I sought, and yet am not heard? But what hast thou sought? Perchance, the death of thy Enemy: what if he also besought thine? He who created thee, he likewise created him: Thou art a man, he likewise is a man: But God is the Judge, he hearkeneth both, but he heareth not both. Thou art sad, for that thou art not heard in thy prayer against him: be glad, that he is not heard in his prayer against thee. But thou wilt say, I did not seek this, I sought not the death of mine enemy; but I besought the life of my child: What evil sought I in this? Thou soughtst no evil, as thou thinkest; but tell me, what if he were taken from thee, lest Sin should change his understanding? But thou wilt say, he was sinful, and therefore I desired that he might live, that he might reform his life. Thou desiredst that he might live better: but what if God saw that he by living longer, would become worse? How knowest thou then whether might more redound to his profit, to dye or live? Seeing then thou knowest not, return into thy heart, leave this to the secret counsel of God. But what shall I then do, wilt thou say? How may I pray? How mayst thou pray? As thy Lord hath taught thee, as thine Heavenly Master hath taught thee. Call upon God, as God;. Love God, as God. Nothing is better than he, desire him, covet him. See how this princely Prophet calleth upon the Lord in another other Psalm, One thing have I desired of the Lord, 
Psal. 26.  that I will require. And what is this he desires? Even that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life: And to what end? To behold the beauty of the Lord. If then thou desirest to be the Lover of God, with thy sincerest affections, and chastest sighs love him, like him, long for him, languish for him, than whom thou canst find nothing more joyful, nothing more graceful, nothing more cheerful, nothing more diuturnal. For what more diuturnal, than what is sempiternal? Do not fear that he at any time will fall from thee, who hath made thee, that thou shouldst not fall from him. If then thou callest upon God as God, be secure, thou art heard; thy portion hath relation to that verse, He is very merciful to all such as call upon him. Do not then say, He hath not given me this. Return unto thy heart, and discharge thy conscience, examine it, do not spare it. If thou hast at any time called upon God for temporal benefits, assure thyself that therefore he did not give them thee, because they would not profit thee. In this, Brethren, let your hearts be edified, your Christian hearts, your faithful hearts; lest ye fall into murmuring against God, by being discontented, when frustrated of your desires: and in vain it is to kick against the prick. Make recourse to the Scriptures. The Devil is heard, 
Matth. 8.  and the Apostle is not heard. How seems this unto you? How are the Devils heard? They besought him that they might go into the heard of Swine, and it was granted them. How is the Devil heard? He besought him, that he might tempt job, 
Job 1.  and it was suffered him. How is the Apostle not heard? Lest I should be exalted out of measure, 
2 Cor. 12.  through the abundance of revelations, there was given unto me a prick in the flesh, the Messenger of Satan to buffet me. For this thing I besought the Lord thrice, that it might depart from me. And he said unto me, my grace is sufficient for thee: for my power is made perfect through weakness. He heard him, whom he had disposed to damnation: and heard not him whom he prepared to salvation. The sick patient asketh many things of his Physician: yet the Physician gives them not, he hears him not after his will, but for his health. Make God then thy Physician: ask of him health, and he will be thy health: not only as outward health, but as he himself is all health. Love not then any health beside him, but as thou hast it in the Psalm, 
Psal. 34.  Say unto my Soul I am thy Salvation. What is it unto thee what he give thee, so he give himself unto to thee? Now wouldst thou that he give himself unto thee? What if that thou wouldst have he will not give thee, that he may give himself unto thee? He removes impediments from thee, that he may enter in unto thee. Brethren, observe and consider what God gives here unto Sinners, and hence gather what he keeps in store for his Servants. To Sinners that blaspheme him, he gives daily the benefits of Heaven and Earth, he gives fountains, fruits, health, children, wealth, abundance. All these goods things none giveth but God. He that gives such things to the sinful, what thinkst thou stores he up for his faithful? Dost thou think this of him, that he who gives such things to the evil, reserves nothing in store for the good? yes truly, he reserves not only earth but heaven. Nay perchance, I speak of something too low when I speak of heaven: he reserves himself who made Heaven. Beautiful is heaven, but more beautiful is the Maker of Heaven. But (sayest thou) I see Heaven, but I see not him. Thou hast eyes to see Heaven: But thou hast not as yet an heart to see the Maker of Heaven. To that end came he from Heaven to Earth, that he might cleanse thine heart, whereby he might be seen who made Heaven and Earth. But freely with patience expect salvation. He knows best with what medicines to cure thee: He knows best how to cut thee, how to seere thou. Thou art become sick through sin, he comes not only to cheer, but to cut and sere. Dost thou not see what pain men suffer under the hands of their Physicians, who promise unto them an uncertain hope of life? Thou shalt be cured, says the Physician, thou shalt be cured if I cut thee. And this is but the promise of man, and promised to man. Neither is he certain who speaks it, nor he who hears it: because he speaks it unto man, who made not man, nor perfectly knoweth what may become of man: yet gives man credit to these words of man, who knows not what becomes of man: he submits his members unto him, he suffers himself to be bound, or sometimes unbound he is cut and seered: and perchance he recovers health for a few days, yet after this short recovery of health, he knows not when he must dye; and perchance he dies while he is in cure, or perhaps he cannot be cured. But to whom hath God at any time promised, and deceived?   

I●ius Horreo  
Su●●ma affluentia,  
Cujus cordi● Scrinio  
Sana Conscientia.  
THE Christian Storehouse,  
Rendered from Saint Augustine in his Tract upon the 64. Psalm, upon these words:  We shall be satisfied with the pleasures of thine House, even of thine holy Temple. 
WHat are those good things of the house of God? Brethren, let us suppose to ourselves some rich House, imagining it to be stored with all good things, how plenteous it may be, what store of vessels of gold and silver there may be, how numerous a family, what abundance of stock and store, in a word how the House itself may delight us with pictures and structures of marble, arched Roofs, curious Columns, specious Spaces, sumptuous Rooms: behold, such things are desired, but as yet out of the confusion of Babylon. Prune all these desires, O Citizen of Jerusalem, prune all these: if thou wilt return to thine heavenly City, let not captivity delight thee. But if thou hast already begun to go out of Babylon, do not look behind thee, do not loiter in the way. There want not yet Enemies to persuade thee to stay still in thy captivity and exile. Let not then the speeches of the wicked prevail with thee. Desire the House of God, and desire the good things of that house: but not such, as thou usest to desire either in thine own House, or in thy Neighbours or Patron's House. There is goodness of another nature in this House. What need we to declare what those good things be of that House? Let him express them who singeth in his going out of Babylon: We shall be satisfied with the pleasures of thine House. What are those pleasures? Sometimes, perchance, we erected our hearts to gold, to silver, and other precious things: do not seek such, these oppress, they do not refresh. Let us here then meditate of those pleasures of Jerusalem, those pleasures of the House of the Lord, those pleasures of the Temple of the Lord: because those pleasures which are of the House of the Lord, those are pleasures of the Temple of the Lord. We shall be satisfied with the pleasures of thine House: Holy is thy Temple, wonderful in righteousness. These are the pleasures of that House. He says not, thy holy Temple wonderful in Pillars, wonderful in Pictures, wonderful in Marbles, wonderful in gilded buildings, but wonderful in righteousness. Thou hast outward eyes, wherewith thou mayst see marble structures, golden statues: but within is the eye wherewith thou mayst view the beauty of Righteousness: within, I say, is the eye wherewith thou mayst view the beauty of Righteousness. If there be no beauty in Righteousness, whence is it that the Righteous old man is loved? What may his body present to delight the sight? He presents crooked limbs, a rugged forehead, an head whitened with hoary hairs, weakness in all parts, full of aches and complaints. But, perchance, though this decrepit old man delight not thine eyes, he may delight thine ears. With what voice? with what song? For though, perchance, while he was young, he sung well, all those airs are decayed with age. For can the sound of his words possibly delight thine ears, seeing he can scarcely pronounce his words through the dropping decay of his teeth? Yet if he be just, if he covet not that which is another's, if he out of his own distribute to the necessity of others, if he admonish discreetly, and understand rightly, if he believe sincerely, if he be ready for the profession of truth to bestow even his decayed limbs (for many have been Martyrs when they were old) we are moved to love him. But whence is it that we love him? What good thing do we see in him with these eyes of our flesh? Nothing. There is then a certain beauty of righteousness, which we see with the eyes of our heart, and which we love, and wherewith we burn. What was it that begot so much love in men to these Martyrs, when their limbs were piecemeal torn by beasts? When their blood wherewith their Corpse were embathed, distained all things, when their bowels were rend and shed abroad with the teeth of beasts, had the eyes any objects but spectacles of horror? What was there in them that could be loved: but that in such a Shambles of torn members, there appeared an unblemished beauty of righteousness? These are the pleasures of the House of God; with these prepare thyself to be satisfied: but that thou mayst be herewith satisfied when thou comest thither, it behoves thee to hunger and thirst after it, while thou art a stranger: Thirst after this, huger after this, for these shall be the pleasures of God. Hear that King to whom these things are spoken, who came to recall thee, and through himself hath made a way for thee, what says he? Blessed are they who hunger and thirst after righteousness, 
Mat. ●.  for they shall be satisfied. Holy is thy Temple, wonderful in righteousness. And do not think, Brethren, that this same Temple is without you. Love righteousness, and ye are the Temple of God.   

MAN His own Foe.  
WHat an Enemy is Man to himself? He sees above him, Heaven, offering itself unto him; below him, Hell, threatening perdition to him; On Earth, he sees nothing worthy his affecting. Friends he observes, and he finds them Shadows of time: the best of their constancy clothes itself with a seeming mourning, and closeth all those glorious protests of Devotion and Service, with a teare-sacrifice to his Urn.  
All those fair Monuments of his discerning providence are razed; those undeserving Palms, which afforded him applause, now closed. Those Annals of his care, to an unknown posterity recommended. Those precious vading hours, which well expended, might have gained him eternity, are so many Heralds to deblazon his vanity. Time he had enough to estate him in immortality; but pleasure, honour, or earthly profit appeared such precious pearls in his bleered eye, as he could reserve few or no minutes for so inestimable a purchase, as the permanent possession of a future happiness. He eyed that least, which would have cleared his eyesight most: making that his Supreme Object, which should in Wisdom have been his lowest Subject. He could not possibly affect aught more, than what conduced least to his spiritual improvement. Were he in company; those he made choice for his consorts, whose debauched course had sprinkled a deep tincture on their fame: and had made them only exemplary in that which deserved imitation least. Did he walk abroad; he made no use of those various objects, which might have diverted his eye from admiring the excellence of the creature, to fix and inspheare it in the sole satisfying Contemplation of his Creator. Not the least sprig, seed, or grassepile, but retained in it a mysterious impression of so exquisite an Artist: yet with what an easy contempt and perfunctory reflex, he looks on these, as if they dictated nothing to him but a vading vanity? Yet see, poor groundling! if some flourishing Meadow, fair Pasture, fruitful Farm, or any other attractive object of sensual profit present their sight and site unto him; with what a passionate interbreath he salutes these earthly objects, with a servile irregular wish; Oh that these were mine! Mean time, he he's more than he enjoys; and enjoys less peace, by engaging his rough rubbish desires to every place. What an angling he makes to catch that, which catcheth him most? He makes the Day his Purveyor for the world; the Night his Remembrancer of his cares: So as, that very time which was allotted Man for rest, becomes his disquiet.  
If he aim at Honour, he makes it his flame; and never leaves it, till his airy wings be singed by it. Secure he was before he sought; but as one wearied in the haven, he commits his unsteared vessel to the dangers of the Main; where his Competitors be those Pilots which plash him; who never leave him, till they cause his Top and Top-galant to yield with dishonour; which, his unbounded spirit unable to brook, becomes his secret Pioneer.  
When Pleasure seizeth his Fort; how long and tedious are those slow-running hours, which divide him from idolatrizing his light-affected Mistress? What numerous fancies his deluded imagination suggests to him; presenting to his entranced Conceit, more moving Objects of imaginary delight, than the losest Sibarite ever▪ yet enjoyed? He retains a constant model of her favour, feature, posture; but how light she weighs in the Scale of honour, he never dreams. He flatters himself with the conceit of her reply, upon the delivery of a set speech; farced with far more compliment, than ornament of art. Poor fool! How much a scattered or ravished favour transports him! Mean time, she works on his fortune, while she gulls his guilded person with a seeming affection. Thus split in his fortune, he becomes cashiered of his temporary favourite. And now Time comes, and must needs draw his feature.  
Heavens bless me; how like a fleshless Starveling, this amorous Skeleton looks! He, who once fed on fancy, longs after a more substantial food to refresh his appetite.  
Our two late Prophets talked of Droughts and Plagues; and his incessant desire is by a petitionary way (for otherwise his exhausted fortunes cannot work, nor project him a course to subsist) that they would intercede (if their fanatic illumination would give leave) that the Drought of his seered liver might be quenched, and the Plague of his purse cured.  
We have now Epitomised Man to his full; and discovered him to be the only occasion of his own fall. Oh that he would recollect himself! and consider from whence he came, what he is, and whereto he must go.  
First, let him reflect upon the state of his earthly being; that weak contexture whereof he is moulded; Next, what weak and infirm supports he stands on; and how soon those shaking Bases shall decline, when necessitated Fate shall undermine them; Lastly, those miseries one misspent hour shall make him liable to: when with sighs, and tears, and what not; he shall petition for redemption of time, which want of time will not afford him; nor all his powerfulst Advocates on Earth procure him; nor all his prayers and tears, be they never so plentifully effused, assure him.  
O Man! Seeing then, Earthly Honour becomes acorroding Competitor to the Owner; aim at that, which shall without corrivallship highly improve, and securely confirm the injoyer.  
Seeing, Worldly wealth sates not the desire, but ministers fresh fuel to the possessor; address thy more erected thoughts to that solec-sufficing and entirely-enriching treasure, which shall close thy safely-confined desires for ever.  
Lastly, Seeing thou art so much transported with the vading shadow of Worldly Pleasure; fix thy sole content on that absolute good, which transcends all extent: So shalt thou, who before were't a Foe to thyself, become a Friend to Him, who to redeem thee, engaged himself.   

TWO Devout Prayers, Or Meditations of F. Lewis of Granado, gathered forth of his Meditations in Spanish, and hereto annexed.  God forbid that I should rejoice, but in the Cross of our Lord jesus Christ, whereby the world is crucified to me, and I unto the world, Gal. 6. 14. 

To Christ Crucified.  
We adore thee, O Lord Jesus Christ, and bless thy holy Name, for that thou hast redeemed the world by this thy Crosse. We give thanks to thee, most gracious Saviour, for that thou hast so highly loved us, and cleansed us by thy blood from our sins: as likewise, for that thou hast offered thyself upon the Cross for us, that with the most sweet smell of this thy most noble Sacrifice, inflamed with the fire of thy love, thou mightst reconcile GOD to us, and procure our peace with him. Blessed be thou for ever, O Saviour of the World, O Reconciler of men, repairer of Angels, Restorer of Heaven, Triumpher over Hell, Conqueror of the Devil, Author of life, Destroyer of Death, and Redeemer of them, who sat in darkness, and shadow of Death.   

To the sacred mystery of the Cross, by JESUS Sanctified: And to JESUS, who was on it crucified.  
O Cross, 
No fire gives quicker heat to heath, than Christ's Cross to man's heart. No fire works more upon combustible matter, than the wood of the Cross on a pliable nature.  thou drawest hearts more powerfully unto thee, than the Adamant doth Iron●: Thou more clearly enlightnest our minds, than the Sun doth men's eyes: Thou more vehemently inflamest our souls, than fire doth coals. Wherefore, O most holy Cross, 
Meaning by this Material wood of the Cross of Christ, tha● Spi●ituall Wo●d of Life, Chr●st Jesus changing on the wood of the Crosse.  draw me unto thee powerfully: enlighten me continually: inflame me vehemently and vigorously, that my mind and cogitation may never depart from thee: Thou also, my good JESUS, illuminate the eyes of my soul, that in this Cross I may understand how to behold thee: to wit, that I may not only contemplate those extreme sorrows which thou suffered'st for my sake, and take compassion of them: but that I may also know, that the examples of those many and excellent Virtues, which thou here exhibitedst, were to me recommended, that they might by me be imitated.  
Wherefore, O thou Teacher of the World, O thou Physician of our souls, here do I come to the foot of thy Cross, she wing my wounds and sores unto thee: heal me, O my God, and prescribe me what I should do. I acknowledge, and confess, O Lord, that I am vehemently addicted to sensual affections, and too great a Lover of myself, which self-love I perceive hindereth much my spiritual profit and proficience. So as, being ofttimes ensnared either with my pleasures and delights, or deterred with the labour of fasting, I lose the benefit of pious and devout exercises: with the loss whereof my salvation likewise is endangered. This sensuality of mine is to me very tedious, very grievous: for truly it desires at set hours to feast 
* Delicacy the Devil's darling.  daintily and delicately, it desires after dinners and suppers, to solace itself in discourses and delights; likewise, to take the air, walk in gardens and arbours, always affecting one recreation or other: but teach thou me, O Lord, by thy example what I ought to do. O with what confusion, with what shame do I conceive myself to be clothed, so often as I behold, after what sort thou entertainedst that most delicate, and most tender body of thine? In the midst of those anguishes and dolours of thy most bitter death, thou ministredst to it no other repast nor receipt, than that which was 
* Christ's confection.  confectioned of gall, and vinegar, by those cruel and hateful Apothecaries. And at that time, whose tongue, I pray thee, durst complain of thy 
* Christ's refection.  meat, that it was either cold or raw, and ill dressed, or too quickly, or slowly dished, upon sight of that Table spread, O Lord, for thee, in that thy so great necessity? In stead of delights and discourses, which I seek in my Suppers, and banquets, thou hadst the voices of them, who with moving, and mowing, and wagging their heads, derided and blasphemed thee, saying, 
* Christ's Music.  hay, thou that destroyest the Temple, and buildest it in three days. This was the music, this the harmony of thy banquet. Likewise, when thou stuckst nailed hand and foot upon the Cross, this was thy 
* Christ's Perambulation.  walking into the Garden. For albeit, thou hadst another garden, whereto thou retiredst after supper, yet was it not to walk in, but to pray in; not to refresh thee, but to shed thy blood: not to delight thee, but to grieve, sorrow, and be in the agony of death. What shall I say more of the rest of those refreshments of thy blessed flesh? My flesh requireth a soft bed, a precious weed, spacious and specious houses, but tell thou me, O my holy Love, what an one might be thy chamber? What thy house? What thy garment? Thy garment is nakedness, and thy purple the 
* Christ's habit.  habit of derision. Thy 
* Christ's house.  house is to be conversant in public assemblies, exposed to the distemperatures of Sun, and air; and if I seek for any house of thine besides this, it is a stable for beasts. Foxes have their holes, and the Sparrows of heaven their nests: But thou the Creator and Maker of all things, hast not whereon to 
* Christ's repose.  lay thine head. O ye curiosities and superfluities, how comes it to pass, that there is any place left for you among Christians? Either let us cease to be Christians, or let us cast from us all these delights and superfluities: seeing our Lord and 
* Christ's conversation, our imitation.  Master hath not only cast from him those things which were superfluous, but even those things also which were necessary.  
Now it remaineth, Lord, that I see what a Chamber thou hast. Tell me, O sweet Lord, where it is that thou liest, where thou sleepest at noon? I lay me down here at thy feet: teach me, what I ought to do. For this my sensuality will not well relish a Sermon of thy Crosse. I desire a bed soft and sweet, and if I awake at Prayer time, yet do I suffer myself easily to be overcome by sloth: I expect likewise a morning slumber, that I may get rest for my head. But tell me, O Lord, what rest thou hadst upon that 
* Christ's bed.  bed of thy Crosse. When as leaning on the one side, thou wert wearied, how couldst thou rest thee on the other side, that thou mightst be eased?  
May not thine heart here burst? May not all thy sensuality here dye? O solace to the poor! O, shame to the rich! O strength to the penitent! O condemnation to the soft and delicate! Neither is JESUS CHRIST'S bed for you, nor his glory for you.  
O Lord, give me grace, that after thy example I may subdue and kill my sensuality; but if not, I beseech thee, that even this very moment thou wouldst take my life from me. For it is not reasonable nor tolerable, that thou shouldst be fed upon the Cross, both with Gall and Vinegar, and I seek after delights, and most exquisite dainties: Nor that thou shouldst ●ee so poor and naked, and I with such earnestness hunt a●ter worldly riches, and so wretchedly love and affect them: Nor that thou shouldst have a 
* Christ's cradle a Crab, his couch a Crosse.  Cross for thy couch, and I seek a soft bed, a pleasant chamber, and delight of the flesh.  
Be ashamed therefore, O my soul, when thou beholdest thy Lord, hanging upon the Cross: Where imagine him to be 
* Christ's Sermon upon the Crosse.  preaching unto thee, and rebuking thee after this manner. I took for thee (O man) a Crown of Thorns: Thou in contempt of me, wearest a garland made of Flowers. I for thee, stretched out my hands upon the Cross: wilt thou reach thine forth to pleasures and dalliance? I dying, could not quench my thirst so much as with water: wilt thou seek after precious Wines and Viands? ay, both on the Cross, as likewise all my life long, was full of reproaches, and sorrows: wilt thou bestow thy time upon honours and pleasures? I suffered my side to be opened, that I might make thee even partaker of my heart: wilt thou have thine exposed and opened to vain and perilous loves?    

A Short and fruitful Confession of a Sinner unto God, for obtaining Contrition.  
O God of inestimable and eternal mercy, God of unmeasurable piety, God the Creator and Redeemer of mankind, who purifiest the hearts of such as confess their sins unto thee; who releasest all such from the bond of iniquity, as accuse themselves before the sight of thy divine majesty: I beseech the power and depth of thy goodness with inward groans: that according to the multitude of thy mercies, thou wouldst grant me to make a pure and sincere confession before thee of all my sins, whereof my guilty conscience doth accuse me. And that thou wouldst give me true repentance for all such things as I have committed, in naughty thoughts, depraved cogitations, wicked consent, unjust counsel, in concupiscence and unclean delights, in evil and hateful words, in malicious works, in my seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling, and touching. I truly even in all my members do conceive myself guilty above measure: because, as the stars of heaven, and sands of the Sea; so do I know my sins to be innumerable. But to thee, Lord, who knowest all secrets, and who hast said, Thou desirest the repentance of a Sinner, do I reveal all the secrets of my heart, accusing my naughtiness, and my many and very great sins, which I have committed before the eyes of thy fearful Majesty, all my wretched life long, especially these (here for the better increase of thy devotion and spiritual compunction, mayst thou particularise some of thy grievouser Sins) with all those my evils, which are open and manifest, O God of mercy, in thy sight. And now, O most gracious LORD, look upon me and have mercy on me, and give unto me a fountain of tears and remission of all my sins, through thy free mercy, and that with inward confession of heart, and affection of desiring remission, seconded with so sincere a Confession. Rectify and reform in me, O most loving Father, whatsoever is depraved in me, either in word, deed, thought, through my own impiety, or the Devil's subtlety; and by joining me a member to the unity of the Church, make me partaker of thy Redemption; and admit me to the Sacrament of blessed reconciliation, as one who hath no confidence but in thy mercy and compassion.   

A Confession of Sins; by Blessed Augustine.  
O Merciful, pitiful, great and terrible God: I confess unto thee my sins; to thee, to thee, do I discover my wounds: for thine ineffable goodness bestow a Salve on me. Thou, O most mild Lord, vouchsafedst to say: I desire not the death of a sinner, but rather that he may turn from his wickedness, and live. I confess, that my life is in thy sight wicked and crooked, that my life is falling into the lake of misery, and my Soul perishing in my iniquities. Lust, sinful delight, naughty works, wrath, prid●, impatience, malice, envy, gluttony, ebriety, theft, rapine, lying, perjury, scurrility, foolish speaking, murmuring, detraction, ignorance, infidelity, distrust, negligence of God's Commandments, as contagious glagues have slain my Soul. Mine heart and lips are polluted. My seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling, and touching have enfeebled my Soul with sins, and I am wholly lost as well in my cogitation, as action. I beseech thee, O my Lord God, whose mercy hath no end, draw me unto thee, as thou drewest that sinful woman. As thou gavest grace unto her, not to cease from kissing thy feet, washing them with her tears, and wiping them with her hairs: so graciously vouchsafe to grant unto me, that according to the greatness of mine iniquities, thy great love may be in me, that for thine unmeasurable piety, thou mayst forgive me all my sins. Bestow on me pardon for evils passed, continence for evils present, and cautelous prudence for evils to come: Grant me, I beseech thee, before I die, most fully to obtain thy mercy: and suffer not my days to be ended, till my sins be pardoned, but as thou willest and knowest, have mercy on me, Amen.   

A PRAYER before the holy Communion.  
Hail, O most holy flesh and blood of Christ, wherereof I am made partaker in these visible Elements. Hail O thou highest sweetness, who knowest no losing, takest away all loathing, destroyest death, restorest life. Hail thou blessed food, which leadest thine Elect from the exile of this World to their Country. Hail thou happy Sacrifice, which art offered upon the Altar of the Cross, to God ●he Father, for the whole burden of our sins. Hail thou Manna more white than snow, more sweet than honey, more precious than all gold. Take from me, I beseech thee, O good Shepherd, mine iniquities: that with a purified heart and spirit, I may deserve to taste these Holy of holiest. Let this venerable Sacrament be an impregnable Safeguard to me against the deceits of the enemy: that fed with this wholesome Viand, I may pass the slippery ways of this life, in a blameless conversation, and come unto thee, the Bread of life, and the true Lord of Angels, without any hindrance of the Devil's subtlety or malice. O Lord hear me, be pacified with me, attend me, and tarry not from me, O my God, for thy goodness sake. For none can be worthy of so great a mystery, unless thou, o Omnipotent God, make him worthy, Amen.   

A PRAYER OF Th. Aquinas, to be said after celebration of the holy Communion.  
I Give thanks to thee, O holy Lord, Omnipotent Father, Eternal God, who hast vouchsafed to refresh me thy grievous sinner, and unworthy servant, for no deserts of mine, but for thy sole mercy sake, with the precious Body and Blood of thy Son our Lord JESUS CHRIST. And I beseech thee, that this holy Communion may not be of guilt to me unto condemnation, but a soule-saving intercession of remission and consolation. Let it be unto me the armour of faith, and the shield of goodwill. Let it be unto me a removing of my vices, a rooting out of lust and licentiousness, an increasing of Charity and Patience, Humility and Obedience, and of all Virtues. Let it be a strong defence against all mine Enemies, as well visible, as invisible; a perfect quieting and composing of my motions, as well carnal as spiritual: a constant cleaving in thee, the one and true God: and a happy consummation of mine end. And I beseech thee, that thou wouldst vouchsafe to bring me thy most unworthy ●inner, to thatineffable Banquet, where thou with thy Son and holy Spirit, art true light, full satiety, sempiternal joy, consummate gladness, and perfect felicity to thy Saints: Through the same Christ our Lord, Amen.   

Another Prayer of S. Bonaventure.  
O Most sweet Lord JESUS, transpierce the marrow and bowels of my soul, with the most sweet and wholesome wound of thy love; with clear, sincere, and most holy Apostolical Charity, that my soul may languish, and melt always with the only love and desire of thee; Let her long and faint af●er thy Courts; Let her desire to be dissolved, and to be with thee. Grant, that my soul may hunger after thee, the bread of Angels, the repast of holy souls, our daily bread, supersubstantiall, having all pleasantness of taste, and all delight of sweetness: May mine heart always hunger and feed on thee, on whom the Angels desire to look, and with the sweetness of thy taste, let the bowels of my soul be filled: May she always thirst after thee, the fountain of life, the fountain of Wisdom and Knowledge, the fountain of eternal Light, the stream of pleasure, the fullness of the house of God: May she always look about for thee, seek thee, find thee, draw towards thee, come to thee, meditate of thee, converse with thee, & do all things to the praise and glory of thy name, with humility and discretion, with love and delectation, with facility and affection, with perseverance to my dissolution: And be thou always my only hope, my whole trust, my riches, my delight, my joy, my gladness, my quiet and tranquillity, my peace, my sweetness, my perfume, my solace, my meat, my repast, my refuge, my succour, my wisdom, my portion, my possession, my treasure, wherein my mind and mine heart may be always fixed, grounded, and unmovably rooted. Amen.   

A PRAYER for all Judges, and Justiciaries.  
O Almighty God, who judgest iniquity in equity, and dost inscrutable things: Thou, who weighest the mountains in a balance, and wilt bring the judges of the Earth to judgement: Direct their understandings to discern what is right, give them courage and resolution to do what is right. Give them wisdom in their ways, 
In ore gratiam, in more ●aga●iam●, in 〈◊〉 solatiu●●.  faithfulness in their works, uprightness in their walks. Remove from them covetousness; and let it be their ambition to advance thy glory. Let neither rewards be in their hands, nor revenge in their hearts. Take from them all drowsiness and dulness, all security and remissness. Imprint in their hearts a fear of thy name, a reverence to thy throne, and in all their judgements a sweet attemprature of me●cy and judgement. Make them tremble when they call to mind whom they personate; and imitate thee in being compassionate. Let not the Orphan's prayers, nor the Widow's tears be unremembered: seeing these are bottled up by thee, let them not be despised by them that represent thee. O let righteousness drop upon the Earth, that as dew falleth upon the grass, so every flowery border of this thine enclosed garden, may be watered by the dew of thy grace. Suffer not this Island to mourn, nor her People to groan, because of injustice, oppression, and wrong. Put an hook in the nostrils of all such imperious judges, who take thy Law into their mouth, and hate to be reform. As for those, who turn judgement to wormwood, 
Amos 4. 7.  and leave of righteousness in the Earth. These, who buy the poor for silver, 
Ibid. 8. 6.  and the needy for shoes. These▪ that put far away the evil day, 
Ibid. 6. 3.  and approach to the se●te of iniquity: The Lord will be avenged of them: He will mite the great house with breaches, 
11.  and the little house with clefts. But remove these judgements from thine Israel, O God: May no corruption reign in her Palaces, nor iniquity in her paths. May a Zeal of thine house, a fear of thy name, a love of piety, an hate to partiality, seize upon the hearts of all judges and justiciaries in this Kingdom, that they may execute their places without respect of persons, and afterwards reign with those three individuate Persons, GOD the Father, GOD the Son, and GOD the holy Ghost, Trinity in Unity, and Unity in Trinity, to whom be all Glory,  
Amen.   

A Prayer for Peace or tranquillity of Mind.  
GRacious God, who art a God of peace, and hast pronounced a blessing upon those who make peace, give me that which thou blessest, that I may enjoy what thou lovest, embrace that which thou approvest, affect that which thou commendest, possess that wherein thou delightest. Thou knowest that debates, variance, and contention do distract our devotion, distemper the affection, disquiet every good motion, disturb every pious intention. Grant therefore, I beseech thee, that these differences to which I am engaged, or may hereafter be entangled or enthralled, be to the glory of thy great name, the preservation of mine honest repute and fame, and quiet of my affairs, peaceably composed. Cut out of me towards my family all severity, towards my familiars all disloyalty, towards my Neighbours all extremity. Grant me peace of mind in my living, peace of conscience at my dying, and after death that peace which passeth all understanding. 'Cause all tumults of the flesh to cease in me, all immoderate affections to decrease in me, all inordinate motions to dye in me. Sanctify my heart, purify my mind, direct my spirit, erect my faith, correct my life. Remove from me all occasions of difference, that I may find quietness of conscience. Grant that I may sow the seed of righteousness, walk in the ways of holiness, make profession of my faith with all singleness, that I may come to the possession of happiness. Let me seeks peace and ensue it, Love thy Law and pursue it, reform thine Image and renew it. Suffer not the tempests of this world to dismay me, the errors of this life to perplex me, or the terrors of death to appall me. I know, O Lord, affliction to be bitter to him that suffers it impatiently; but sweet to him that suffers it constantly. Thou provest those thou lovest, and afflictest those thou affectest. Affliction than cannot be bitter, when it maketh us better. What though disgrace obscure me, wrongs enure me, reproach impeach me, injuries press thick upon me? I am made strong through him to bear them, who bore the Cross for me, suffered all dishonour for me, shed his blood for me, lost himself to find me, became sold to redeem me, racked upon the Cross to reach me a Crown, climbing Mount Calvarie, to mount me to glory. O make me then ready in my suffering to imitate thee my Saviour! Though war assail me without, give me peace within. Humble my Spirit, that I may be of that temper, as I may still reflect upon the Image of my Saviour, that living in his fear, I may dye in his favour, Amen.   

Of the presence of the Conscience in every place: Gathered out of Saint Bernard's Meditations. Cap. XIII.  
I Cannot conceal my sins: because whither soever I go, my Conscience is with me: carrying with her whatsoever I have laid up in her, be it good or evil. She keeps for me living, she renders to me dying, whatsoever she hath received from me, to be laid up in her, or kept by her. If I do well, she is present, or if I seem to do well, and thence become proud, she is present likewise. She is present with me living, she follows me dying, every where is there inseparable confusion for me, according to the quality of that which is laid up in my Conscience by me. Thus, thus, in mine own house, and from mine own family have I accusers, witnesses, Judges, and tormentors. My Conscience doth accuse me, my memory is a witness against me, Reason is my Judge, Will my Prison, Fear my Tormentor, delight my torment.  
For so many as there have been of evil delights, so many there shall be of sharp and painful torments: for thence are we punished, whence we are delighted.   

A consideration right pithy, profitable, and proper, to enforce in us a more serious Meditation of the former.  
WHither then wilt thou fly, O miserable soul, or where wilt thou make thy retire? Neither to the East, nor to the West, nor to the desert Mountains. Fly thou mayst, but escape thou canst not. Woe is me, what a day of terror will that be, when thou shalt find no place to secure thee, no friend to speak for thee, no means to reprieve thee, all to reprove thee, none to relieve thee. When Adam must be brought from his bushes, and Sarah from behind the door, and man shall say to his Conscience, ●s Ahab said to Elias, Hast thou found me, O mine Enemy● Poor guilty soul, though ●hou shouldst fly from the Field to the City, 
August. in Enar. s●p. 45. Psalm.  from the ●ity to thy House, from thy House to thy Chamber, yet wouldst thou find no rest. For there, even there, where ●he walls enclose thee, privacy seems to secure thee, the Curtains of the Night to obscure thee, yet there will thy surcharged Conscience accuse thee, thy Memory witness against thee, the rule of Reason judge thee, thy Will imprison thee, Fear torture thee, Delight torment thee. Miserable Creature, where pleasure becomes a torture, delight a torment! Alas! if thou hadst none without thee to hunt thee, thou hast one within thee will haunt thee, afflict thee, affright thee, though none should pursue thee: 
Prov. 28. 1.  The wicked flee when none pursueth. O cast thine eye upon thyself, and see if thou be not one of this number. What hast thou done during thy wayfaring in this vale of misery, that might deserve the least drop of God's mercy? What sinful motion hast thou not admitted? what sensual action not committed, what spiritual direction not omitted? Behold thy state in sin conceived, by sin deceived, and into Satan's family received! Thou hast surfeited in the delights of sin, and estranged thy thoughts from the joys of Zion. Thou hadst rather enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season, and to the slavery of sense subject the Principality of reason, than by contempt of Earth lay thee a sure foundation in heaven. Miserable soul, what will become of thee, when these earthly joys shall be taken from thee, when these time-suting friends which seem to love thee, shall leave thee, and by reason of that corrupt shell wherein thou sojournest, shall loathe thee? When left to thyself, and through anguish of spirit well near bereft thyself, thou sh●lt call for comfort, but none will come near thee; for one of thy many friend's, but none will hear thee; for one minutes rest, but none will ease thee; for the least hope of comfort, but none will cheer thee. Where canst thou look, and not find new objects of grie●e? If to Heaven, see how thy sins have incensed it; if to Earth, see how thy example hath defiled it; if to Hell, see how thy sin's purchase hath deserved it! What hast thou to plead for thee? What succour, what shelter to secure thee? Alas! now thou art to be presented before a Judge, who is upright, and will not be bribed; who is all-seeing, and will not be blinded; who is equally minded, and will not be bended. Forged oaths cannot delude him, personal respect deprave him, hireling Advocates by persuasion draw him, or powerful Potentates by countenance ore-awe him. The Judges of the Earth shall be judged by him; and the Kings of the Earth shall tremble before him. O what will become of thee (sinne-soiled soul) in these straits of extremity, these intricate mazes of misery! Poor thou art, and who will enrich thee? naked of good works, and who will clothe thee? Hungering after this world, which cannot feed thee; thirsting after honours, which cannot fill thee. O how long hast thou preferred the prodigals husks of vanity, before the delicious viands of eternity? How long hast thou turned in thy bed, like a door on the hinges, promising thyself security, when nothing was farther from thee? O reflect upon thy misery, and implore gods mercy! Even that God, in whose sight the very Heavens are unclean, such is his purity. That God, which came not to call the righteous, but the sinner to repentance, such is his piety. Art thou sick? Yea sin-sick, soul-sick. 
* Electrum l●chry●arum, Electuarium animarum.  Tears are the best Electuary to cure this desperate malady. The 
* Lachrymae peccatorum, sun● vinum Angelo●um. Bern sup. Cant. My● rham oculoru● dici●●us me ru● Angelorum.  penitents brine is the Ange●s wine. When Sinners weep, Angels rejoice: for right well they know, that they which Sow in tears, shall reap in joy. Be a Turtle then in thine heart, passionately throbbing; a Pelicane in thy breast, compassionately piercing; an Hart in thine eyes, incessantly weeping; a Swan in thy voice, death's Elegy singing, a Philomela in thy note, for thy lost chastity ●ighing▪ a Crane in thy life, circumspectly watching. O shut, yea speedily shut, I say, thine eyes from vanity, that the Objects of Heaven may only delight thee; shut thine ears from levity, that the subject of virtue may invite thee; shut all thy senses from the deluding motives of sensuality, that reason may be thy guide, the love of God thy goad, Heaven thy goal, peace of conscience thy crown of glory. Shut the door of thine inner Chamber, and there pour out thine heart to God's honour: where reposing, and from the world retiring, thou mayst thus invoke him, thus invite him. Let nothing be unto me (I beseech thee) pleasant without thee, nothing sweet, nothing specious, nothing appear unto me without thee precious. Let all things appear vile unto me without thee. Whatsoever is contrary to thee, let it be displeasing to me: and let thy goodwill and pleasure, be my indeficient desire and endeavour. Let it irk me to rejoice without thee, let it delight me to rejoice with thee, and weep with thee. 
Anselm.  O good JESUS, if it be so sweet to weep for thee, how sweet is it to rejoice for thee? Thus to meditate, is to recreate thy wearied soul in the green pastures of spiritual comfort; to bathe thy panting soul in the pure crystalline streams of eternal solace; to refresh thine hungry spirit with Heavenly Manna; to tune thy voice to an holy Hosanna. Oh then, leave to love the world before thou leave the world. Redeem the time, because the days are evil. Avoid the occasion, lest thou become void of reason. Examine thy ways, thy words, thy works. Subtract an hour from thy sleeping, to add to thy praying. Man's security is the Devil's opportunity. Watch therefore, for thou know'st not when the Thief will come. The holy Hermit S. Ant●onie, who became first professor of an Eremitical or solitary life, 
Damas. in Hi●t. Barlaam.  when he had read that divine sentence of holy Scripture,— Go and sell all that thou ●●st, presently conceiving it to be meant by him, he did so. 
Luke 10. 37.  Go and do thou likewise. Follow thy sweet Saviour in a devout contempt of the world, from the Crib to the Cross, from mount Olivet to mount Calvary, and from the tree of his Cross, he will reach thee a Crown of glory. Follow, I say, with fervour, the steps of thy Saviour. Say with holy Hierom, 
Licot sparso ●●ine, s●is● is vestibus, uber● quibus ●e nutrierat, m●ter ostenda●, li●●t in limine pa●er jaceat, per contemptam matrem, per calcatum patrem, perge siccis ●culis, & ad vexillum Crucis ev●la.  It my mother should hang about me, my father lie in my way to stop me, my wife and children weep about me, I would throw off my mother, neglect my father, contemn the lamentation of my wife and children, to meet my Saviour, Christ Jesus. My heart is ready, my heart is ready, do what thou bid'st, and bid what thou wilt. But above all things, that thou mayst be at peace with thy Maker, and more gracious in the sight of thy Saviour, make the Evening the day's Calendar: Say to thyself; O my soul, what hast thou done to day? 
Hieroh.  What sin hast thou healed in thee? wherein was God honoured by thee? How hast thou increased or decreased, profited or failed? Doing thus, thy Conscience shall not accuse thee, but defend thee; thy Memory shall not witness against thee, but for thee; thy Reason shall be a Judge to acquit thee, not condemn thee; thy Will shall not restrain thee, but free thee; no Fear shall affright or come nigh thee; no Delight shall torment thee; but as thy delight was in the Law of the Lord, ●o thy delight shall be in the House of the Lord for ever. 
Rev. 22. 20.  Even so come Lord jesus, come quickly.   

Upon these Miscellane Meditations, with other mixed Subjects, contained in this precedent Tract; A clozing Sonnet.  

Moral mixtures or Divine,  
Aptly culled and couched in order,  
Are like colours in a shrine,  
Or choice flowers set in a border,  
Or like dishes at a Feast,  
Each attended with his salad,  
To delight the curious Guest,  
And give relish to his palate.  
Store of colours, they are meet,  
When we should ones picture take,  
One choice flower be't near so sweet,  
Would no pleasing posy make,  
One Dish be it near so precious  
To the Sent or to the Taste,  
Though at first it seem delicious,  
It will cloy the Sense at last.   

Here are Colours permanent,  
Objects which will cheer the eye,  
Here are Flowers redolent,  
Which will bloom and never dye,  
Here are Dishes of delight,  
(Such delights can never cloy)  
To renew the appetite,  
And to new-revive your joy.   

Muse not then, if here you see  
In this various Work of mine,  
Such a mixed variety,  
Sorting with this humorous time:  
Though the Sun shine in our Sphere,  
Cloud or Night invelop it,  
But the Sun shines ever here,  
Darting forth pure rays of wit.  
Now the fr●uit I wish to gain,  
Is your profit for my pain.   
FINIS.   

A reply to a rigid Precisian, objecting, that flowers from Romish Authors extracted, became less wholesome and divinely redolent.  
SIr, it was your pleasure positively to conclude touching Flowers of this nature, that they lost much of their native beauty, vigour and verdure, because called from a Roman border: wherein I refer you to that sententious Poet, to return you answer.  

Flores qui lambunt terrae vapores,  
Non magis tetros referunt odores,  
Nec minus suaves redole●e Flores,  
TIBRIDIS oris.   
Which I have thus rendered in true currant English, fearing lest that Latin metal might disrelish your more queasy palate.  

Flowers which do lick up from the Earth a vapour,  
Yield to the nostrils ne'er the w rser savour,  
Nor be those Soons less redolent in odour  
Which gro● by TIBER     


A Christian Dial; By which he is directed, how to dispose of his hours while he is living, how to address himself for the hour of his dying, and how to close his days with a comfortable ending.  
Faithfully rendered according to the Original.   

To the Generous, Ingenious, and Judicious, Sir WALTER VAVASOR Knight and Baronet; together with his Vettuously accomplished Lady: R. B. Zealously consecrates this Christian Dial.  

To your Grandfather have I welcome been,  
Receive this Gage in memory of him;  
Whilst no sun-dial may more truly give  
The hour o'th' day, than this the way to live.    

THE LIFE of JOHANNES JUSTUS LANSPERGIUS, a Carihusian; Author of these Meditations entitled, A Christian Dial.  
JOHANNES JUSTUS LANSPERGIUS, borne of honest parents at Lansperge a Town in Bavaria, after such time as he had finished his course in the study of Philosophy at Cullen, he gave there the name to the Order of the Carthusians, wherein being grown Famous for the space of 30. years, both by example of manners and piety, as also by writing Books of Devotion and Sanctity, he slept in the Lord the 4. of the Ides of August, in the year of Christ's Nativity, M.D.XXXIX.   

A Christian Dial; By which he is directed how to dispose of his hours while he is living, how to address himself for the hour of his dying, and how to close his days with a comfortable ending.  
Faithfully rendered 'cording to the Original.  
A brief Institution, with an Exercise for an happy death: expressed in a familiar Conference betwixt God and the Soul.  
AS there is nothing, O Soul, which may make the love of the world more distasteful ●nto thee, or that may bring thee to so great contempt of it, and of all creatures in it, as the consideration of the shortness of this life, and certainty of death, whereby all thy endeavours, all thine honours, all thy pleasures, thoughts, desires, and all thy joys shall perish: So is there nothing that may solace or refresh the loving Soul with greater joy, than the belief and hope she hath to become associated to me, united to me, and swallowed up in me: where there is hereafter no offence, no sin, no separation, no danger, no fear, no sorrow. Where the Soul full of charity may always praise me, always magnify me, become most perfectly obedient, most perfectly pleasant unto me, and that she may be with me, where she may desire nothing, love nothing, feel nothing else beside me, where she may wholly possess me, & be wholly possessed by me. These things, forasmuch as they cannot firmly nor ●ully befall thee in this life, but then only, when thou shalt be with me in my Kingdom, to wit, when all thy desires shall be satisfied, both in praising and loving me, and when I shall be all i● all. Therefore it is, that ●hou justly cravest, and justly with thy whole heart desirest in that Prayer which I gave ●hee, Let thy Kingdom come. Wherefore, O daughter, if thou lovest me rightly, faithfully, fervently: thou wilt desire with all thine heart, this Kingdom, that is, this state or condition; for this with sighs thou wilt pray, to wit, that my Kingdom may come, wherein thou mayst with most sweet love be to me united, wholly in me melted and moulded.  
And because (as I said before) this cannot come to pass but by death, 
The love of God is the faithful soulesguide.  therefore this Death, which is the gate and passage to life, is to my Saints in desire, and life in patience. Hence thou seest, how a soul perfectly loving me, feareth not death. For whath hath such a Soul to lose by exchange of this miserable-unhappy life, but the sta●e of sinning, snares of offending, occasions of ruin, deceits of enemies, self-frailty, fears, with other innumerable Occurrents, which straiten the Soul, either ignorant, or weak, or lukewarm, (not to speak here of the dangers of the body) and therefore always fainting and falling. Manythings here would the soul have which she ought not, or which she even knows nor though she would have them. Many things would she which she cannot. In many things is the soul ignorant, blind, and walking among Snares, or in darkness, whence she knows not how to free herself. How then may she not worthily wish, how not rejoice, that she is delivered from these sorrows, and dangers? Why therefore, O Soul, dost tho● fear, why dost thou not desire death? For tell me what evil shall death bring unto thee? If thou fearest nothing in this world, death can take nothing from thee. If thou love any thing in this world, it is with danger, yea thou lovest thine own danger. Cease therefore to love the world before death, that thou mayst nothing at all fear death. Furthermore, if thou love me only in this life, joy for that thou shalt dye, for that thou shalt never enjoy what thou lovest, before thou die. But I know what thou fearest: Truly, thou lovest nothing in this world, thou possessest nothing which thou wouldst not lose, or grievest to lose; yet fear and terror surprise thee, because thou knowest not whether thou be'st worthy of love or hate; thou knowest not how thou art to be entertained by me, whether to rest or punishment.  
O daughter, thou oughtest not to be too curious after the knowledge of these things, yea it is not expedient for thee to know them. Stand constantly, although thou fear; in hope and affiance, both living and dying, set thy rest upon me. Thou canst not live well of thyself, neither canst thou dye well of thyself. Thou hast both from me. What, if I shall give thee grace to live holily, shall I not also give thee grace to die happily? Seeing thou hast all things from me, exp●ct●● all things of me, how can●● thou expect the one, and despair of the other? Of thyself thou canst neither live well, nor dye well. Put thy trust therefore in m●, cast thy thought upon me, ground all thy fear and care upon me. As thou canst resist no tentation, avoid no sin living, so neither dying. If I forsake thee no● living, if I faithfully prevent tentation, and moderate it in thy life, that thou mayst bear it: I am ready to do the very same unto thee at thy death, that thou mayst vanquish it. Never go to fight with thine own weapons, but rely on me. If thou rely on me, I will fight for thee. And if thou have me fight with thee and for thee, what hast thou to fear, who art nothing of thyself? And as concerning the condition or quality of death, fear nothing. There is no kind of death that can hurt the just: for the just man, with what death soever he shall be surprised, shall be at rest. Wherefore, let it trouble thee nothing, whether thou die at home or abroad, in thy bed or in thy field: neither art thou to fear, whether the death be natural or violent, which takes thee away. For if one kind of death were more unhappy than another, all my Saints (surely) were most unhappy, the most part whereof in times past, in the judgement of the world, and eye of flesh, most unhappily ended this life. Which of mine holy Martyrs died a natural and timely death? Whom hath not the violence of the 
* Nec locus sufficeret cruc●●us, ●ec cruees corporibus. Joseph. lib. 5. de Bell● jud. cap. 28.  Cross, rack, fire, or sword extinguished? Nothing therefore shall it hurt thee, whether thou diest of the plague, or an apoplexy, or any other kind of death, in the bed, or in the field. Only watch, that thou mayst be found in faith, hope and charity: and no death or kind of Burial shall harm thee. But forasmuch as speaking to thee, I likewise speak to them, who are as yet imperfect in my love; I advise you all in this, that ye love innocence, and hate iniquity. If thou hast at any time sinned, what Soul soever thou be, cease, grieve, repent, that thou hast sinned, so long as thou livest. Yet so repent, if thou wishest to thyself a fruitful repentance, that thou return not again to thy sins, or to thy former state of sinning. Always expect death, and prepare thyself for it, as if thou wert at this very present to dye. But lest some devout institution should be wanting to the weak in spirit, by which supported, they may learn in some sort how to dye, I will add something more to these. First therefore, 
Excellent Motives for the weak i● Spirit, preparing them how to die.  thou oughtest to remember what mine Apostle saith, and what Truth itself speaketh, Ye have not here an abiding City, but ye se●ke for one that is to come; unto which here in this world, no otherwise than in a journey ye walk as Pilgrims. Now your Pilgrimage is ended, when your life is clozed. Death therefore is the very last line, running betwixt this exile wherein ye are, and the Country whereto ye go; so as, there is no other gate, by which ye may pass from this valley of your Pilgrimage, and enter your Country, your heavenly inheritage, but by death. Death then most certainly doth wait for you, like as a most certain end is limited to your life. But this difference there is betwixt the good and evil, that here in your Pilgrimage ye all travail mixedly, all, I say, albeit not all in a right way; ye long after your blessed Country: all ye, so long as ye are in your journey, although ye wander, may return unto the true way. But when ye shall come to the end of your journey, in the gate itself, that is, at the point of death, ye are discerned, that Some of you may pass from exile unto life, others to misery and eternal death. It is not then lightly to be considered, nor negligently observed, how every one is to be prepared before death come. For there ye leave all things after you, in which ye trusted. Be they riches, honours, friends, or any other vain thing whatsoever, they shall avail you nothing at the hour of death, but leaving these behind you, ye shall go naked unto the Tribunal of God, to receive according to your works. What blindness, nay what madness is it then, to rejoice here in your journey, to love frail things, which profit nothing; to neglect the time and occasion of living well, and as if without all sense of God, through drowsiness and dryness of mind, to relish those things only which are of the flesh, to have in pursuit those things only which are outward, and not at all to consider the dangerous state of the inward man, and so to come unto death? Alas; how innumerable are those miserably wretched ones who are here deceived, with the love of the world ensnared, and ●y drawing after them the yoke of the Devil, how unhappily slaved? And thus unexpectedly they come unto death, with hearts both hardened and blinded. Alas; how unhappy is the end of their life, with whom there was never Meditation of death, nor preparation for health?  
Such things therefore are to be rejected, as hinder the spirit, delight the flesh; Such things to be relinquished as are not expedient; In such sort is every one to live every hour, 
A divine Memorial.  as if that were his very last, wherein he should dye and go to judgement. This is the most fruitful, profitable, & sovereign counsel, O Daughter, that thou mayst live after this manner, and that death may be to thee no terror. Now then, if not continually, yet frequently, should that hour be presented before thee, as if it were before thine eyes, wherein thy soul going out of thy body shall be judged for all thy works, words, and thoughts. This therefore oughtest thou even at this present to enjoin thy self, that thou mayst live so even now, to the end thou mayst be found so prepared, is thou wouldst thyself to be prepared, whensoever death shall undoubtedly come. It is the property of a most sottish and senseless heart, to defer amendment of life to that time, when time expireth, when thou canst live no longer, when now thou art not to amend thy life, but to appear before God as thou art already amended. Surely, not sins only, but even all things do leave thee going out of this life. Thou art not then properly said to leave thy sins, when thou canst now sin no more: But if whilst thou hast ability to sin, thou cease from sin; true repentance is never to be called late: but this which is deferred to the end of thy life, it is to be feared that it is seldom true. For if through fear of damnation only, being even now to die, thou sorrowest, and art ready for the avoiding of punishment to perform any task, be it never so extreme, to obtain pardon: Thou sorrowest not out of charity, in that thou hast offended God, but out of self-love, for that thou wishest to thyself good and not evil. For thou sorrowest, because thou hast brought to thyself eternal damnation by thy sins: Whereas, if thou rightly sorrowest, for this only wouldst thou sorrow, in that thou, so disobedient unto me, so unthankful to me, so reproachful to me, hast not exhibited due honour and reverence unto me: whom thou oughtest with all affection to have honoured, whatsoever should befall thee. Whereas now, forasmuch as thou only sorrowest for thyself, if danger were avoided, or no revenge on sin inflicted, thou wouldst never lament, though thou hadst offended me a thousand years together. 
No true Repentance without Charity.  True Repentance, which reconcileth the soul unto me, springeth from Charity, and bewaileth this especially, that she hath so greatly and grievously contemned and offended me her best, greatest, gracioust, and most faithful LORD GOD, her Creator and Redeemer. Hence, I say, is his heart wounded, for as much as so unthankfully, so disobediently, and so proudly, being bu● dust and nothing; he hath lifted up his head against me Whosoever therefore desireth to dye happily, let him (as mine A postle admonisheth him) live soberly, justly, and holily. An evil death followeth not a good and just life but precious in my sight is th● death of my Saints; yea, after what sort of death soever they die, that is, whether they die by water, or fire, or in bed. But to prepare thee all the better for death, 
Meditation of death, the wis● man's life.  the Meditation whereof is the life of every wise man; take here along with thee this short exercise, by which every one may instruct and address himself, that he may take a course to be found in that state, in which he may not fear to dye.   

Wholesome Admonitions, teaching a Christian how to dye well,  WHATSOEVER dying thou wouldst wish that thou hadst done, do the same even now. Whatsoever thou wouldst have done, do not commit this unto others to be done after thy death, but do thou it thyself, for if thou thyself be negligent of thine own salvation, and a traitor to thyself, how shall strangers tender thy happiness? Do not repose trust in uncertain and vain promises: neither commit thyself to doubtful events. So live and so do, that thou mayst be safe in thy conscience, and as if thou wert this day to dye. Never go to sleep, till such time as thou hast examined the expense of the day, with the conditions and actions of thy life. Discuss and call to judgement thine heart, and examine all thy senses, and whether thou art become better or worse this day. Never go with that conscience to sleep, with which thou darest not dye. If thou findest thyself in that state, wherein thou fearest to dye, search out the cause of this fear. For (peradventure) some sins are in thee, 
Motives of fearing Death.  whereof thou hast not as yet repent, or refusest to confess; or else thou forbearest to abstain from sin, and occasions of sin, or thou takest upon thee some profession, office, or vocation, which I admit not of; or thou continuest in hatred, or in the unjust possession of others goods, or too much affected to the desire or delight of temporal affairs, or taken with the inordinate love of some creature, or drowned with the delight of earthly and visible things (as of honour and riches) thou canst not turn thyself to me, tasting nothing of those things, which are of the Spirit, but only let loose to outward things, and loathing those which are divine, therefore it is that thou fearest death: Because thy soul guilty of evil in herself, foretelleth what torments shall befall her after death. 
Spiritual Physic against this fearful distemper.  If any of these shall be in thee, thou oughtest to abhor, pursue, and with all thine endeavour to free thee of them. For which purpose, and the better effecting of so glorious a design, it may help thee much to imitate my steps, embrace my cross, and with rigour of mind, and with holy hatred commenced against thyself, to denounce war upon all thy vices, to have a purpose to sin no more, frequently and infatigably to renew the same, with no infirmity or pusillanimity to be dejected, to contemplate the examples of me and my Saints, to commend thyself to the prayers and exhortations of good men, to give way to my inward and divine inspirations, to exercise prayer and holy reading, never to admit of idleness, to love silence and retiredness. These and such like do change the naughtiness of the mind, and chase away the fear of death. When thou shalt come in the end of every day, say thus to thyself: Now is my life become shorter by one day. 
Christian Memorials.  Early when thou risest, say thus to thyself: O Gracious God, now am I nearer to death by one Night.  

An Exercise, whereby early, or whensoever thou willest, thou mayst pour out thy heart unto God, for a good death.  
O Omnipotent, eternal God, my Creator and Lover, I praise, laud, adore, and bless thee, for that thou so mercifully and patiently hast suffered me, grovelling in my sins and my unthankfulness, even unto this hour, to which thou of thy goodness hast brought me, enriching me with thy benefits, conferring this life with things necessary for this life upon me, with an angelical guardian protecting me, and enlarging towards me thy mercy, who am injuriously ●nworthy, and a spectacle of misery. Ah gracious God, who knoweth whether the term of my life shall be pro●ogued to the evening? O what death shall I desire? O ●ost merciful Lord, God, and Father, give unto me contrition, whereby with all mine heart I may bewail my sins, and my offending thee. And do not suffer my soul to go forth from her body, till she be reconciled to thee in mercy, adopted to thee by grace, adorned with thy merits and virtues, inflamed with most perfect charity, and accepted according to thy all-good-will and pleasure. O most gracious Lord Jesus Christ, if this I desire of thee do please thee, grant it unto me, although I be most unworthy to be heard of thee; grant unto me, I beseech thee, for thine infinite mercies, and the merits of thy passion, that I may be purged in this life from all my sins, that dying, and through vehement and true contrition pricked, and in most ardent charity to thee united, I may go out unto thee, my most sweet Redeemer, being forthwith freed and secured from all damnation, and future affliction. Notwithstanding, O most loving Jesus, I do offer and resign myself unto thee, whether it be to poverty, penury, or any other extremity, for thy glories sake, according to thy goodwill and pleasure: beseeching thee only this, that thou wouldst be mindful of my frailty, vileness, weakness, and misery, as also of thy goodness and charity, that thou wouldst never forsake me, nor depart from me, but that thou wouldst always wholly govern and possess me, according to thy good pleasure. Amen.   

An oblation of Christ and his merits to his Father.  
O Omnipotent most gracious Father, I do offer unto thee all those pains, dolours, reproaches, stripes, and rebukes, all adversities, extremities, and labours of thine only begotten Jesus Christ, the Lamb immaculate, which he suffered in his body for me; likewise all his actions, and every of his members afflicted for me, his blood shed for me, and with profane feet trampled; also his most noble and devout Soul, separated from his lovely Body for me, his merits likewise and infinite virtues. Likewise the powers or faculties of his Soul and body, and all those vital parts in him, given up unto death for me, albeit inseparably united to his Divinity: yea, the whole Christ, thy blessed Son, God and man, omnipotent and infirm, despicable and glorious, doing wonders and hanging upon the Cross, these (I say) do I offer unto thy sacred Majesty, to the expiation and satisfaction of all my sins, and of all the world, and to the mortification and extinction of all mine evil passions, affections, and vices, to the supply of all my negligences, and to thy praise, and thanksgiving for all thy benefits. O God be merciful unto me a miserable sinner, for his sake. Have mercy on me for the love of Jesus Christ, thy beloved Son.   

THE DYING man's Diary, Or A Christians Memento mori; Divided into a five days Exercise.  
THere are, who all the year long present the figure and feature of Death before them by some certain Exercise, and prepare themselves no otherwise for death, than if they were even then to dye, and that for the space of five days continually. The first day, they meditated of the griefs & infirmities which go before death, and horror of death: unto all which they resign themselves. The next day, they think of their ●ins, confessing them with so great diligence and intention, as if they were to dye presently after their confession. Therefore they spend this day in sighs and tears. The third day, they come unto the blessed Eucharist with all the fervour they may, receiving it as their Viaticum in their passage from this their exile. The fourth day, they make continual supplications unto God, for the unction of the Holy Spirit, whereby they might be illuminated, and the hardness of their hearts mollified: And this they do, 
Jam. v. 14.  as it were, for extreme unction. 
Mar. 6. 13.  The fifth day, they become most fervent Supplicants unto God for a spiritual death: whereby they may perfectly dye to the world & to themselves, and live with God. And to every of these days may be applied proper Psalms and Prayers, as also divine invocations, & giving of thanks, for all benefits conferred by God upon them all their life long.   

Profitable Counsel for one approaching near the point of death.  
O Daughter, seeing thyself in this extremity, prepare thy soul for God; so order and dispose here in thy life time of thy goods temporal, that after thy death no difference nor debate may arise. It is most profitable for thee to dispose of thy goods in thy life time, and to redeem thy sins, whilst thou livest, with works of mercy. Whatsoever thou wouldst recommend to others to do for thee, labour to do it of thyself. For if after death thou go to eternal torment, the Provision of a Will, a pompous Funeral, Alms and Doales after death, what will these avail thee, when thou art damned? Offer these Oblations to me now whilst thou art living, that thou mayest not only be delivered from thy sins, but by increasing in my grace, never fall into damnation, but by my preventing grace preserving thee from sin, persevere in good works even to the end. When death draweth near, see that thou wholly free thyself then from all unnecessary cares and employments, strive to meet me immaculately, affectionately, faithfully, promising nor presuming nothing of thy works, but through my assured mercy to obtain Salvation: And in this faith committing and commending thyself, and all thou hast in this world, to my providence and good pleasure, receive the Sacraments humbly and devoutly. Those peculiar privileges and graces also, which have power in them through my merits, and are given by me as a treasure unto the Church (albeit many ofttimes abuse them, as they do other most holy things) if thou canst have them, cause them to be applied unto thee. For even this, very holy persons of both sexes, and famous for their miracles, have formerly done.   

An Exercise, wherein the sick person with sighs and groans (because otherwise it can scarcely be done) may resign himself unto God, and fervently desire, that he may deserve to be joined unto him.  
O Most faithful Lover, most merciful Lord Jesus Christ, grant unto me, that with heart and mind I may feel, what I say: As the Hart brayeth for the rivers of water, so panteth my Soul after thee, o my God. I have chosen to be an Abject in the house of the Lord, rather than to dwell in the Tabernacle of sinners. Blessed are they that dwell in thy house, o Lord, for ever and ever shall they praise thee. My Soul hath thirsted after thee, o God, when shall I come and appear before thy face? Why art thou sorrowful, o my Soul, and why art thou so disquieted within me? Trust in the Lord; therefore will I now confess myself unto him, the Salvation of my countenance, and my God. Show the light of thy countenance upon thy servant, o Lord, save me for thy mercy's sake. Let me not be confounded for ever, for I have called upon thee. Be not far from me, o my God. Look down upon me and help me, o my God. The poor is left unto thee, Thou wilt be the Orphan's helper. Thou art my refuge in my tribulation, which hath compassed me: O my joy deliver me from these that encompass me. Make haste to help me, o Lord God of my Salvation. For thou art my strength, and my refuge, my helper and my protector. Do not then leave me, nor despise me, o God of my salvation. Behold I come unto thee, o my God, whom I have despised and offended: for the whole earth is full of thy mercy. Therefore do I fly unto thee, my most merciful Father. Receive me according to thy word, when thou sayest; (I WILL NOT THE DEATH OF A SINNER) and let me live, and confound me not in my hope. O my God, I do not pray unto thee, for a life temporal, but I call upon thee for the Salvation of my Soul, who art life eternal. O my sweet Lover, O my Lord God, for as much as I have offended thee; for that I have neglected thine inspirations and admonitions, for that I have at any time loved aught be●ide thee, or without thee, for this, O my Lord God, for this do I grieve: And I beseech thee, that thou wouldst give unto me so much grace, as I may with all mine heart grieve a●d lament during every moment of my life. Would to God that I might pour out and offer unto thee every drop of my blood with tears, for grief and love, into thy most sweet heart. O sweet Jesus, I neither desire nor expect of thee life nor death, but thy good will and pleasure: may it be done unto me according to thy will. If it be thy will, O my sweet Jesus, that I shall dye, receive my spirit: And although I come in the Evening, as the very last of all, grant unto me, that I may receive eternal rest with thee, and in thee. But if it be thy will that I shall live longer, O sweet Jesus, I purpose this, and I crave the assistance of thy grace for this, to amend the rest of my life, and to offer myself wholly as a burnt Sacrifice unto thee, to thy glory, and according to thy good will and pleasure. O most desired Jesus, for as much as I have consumed my life in sin, to the reproach of thy glorious name, nor to this day have begun to serve thee: grant unto me, that I may now at last perfectly begin, and employ all the powers of my Soul an● Body, and all the remainder of my time given me by thee, to thy glory, and according to thy best and most perfect will.  
O most merciful Jesus, be thou near me in these my pains and miseries, with which I am straitened, and i● any more grievous than these shall come upon me, for that I have deserved not only more grievous, but most grievous by reason of my sins: grant that I may patiently bear them. O sweet Jesus, if I had never at any time sinned, nor at thine hand evilly deserved, notwithstanding to thy glory, and for thy love, good will, and pleasure, I offer and resign myself unto thee, either in these or any other punishments, to deal with me according to thy will, not my worth, but in the multitude of thy mercies, on which I rely, and on which I call, that by thy power thou wouldst raise and rouse up the frailty of my flesh, and strengthen with longanimity, and confirm with patience the pusillanimity and instability of my Spirit: that I may not ●all down, as one either vanquished with tentation, or faint through pusillanimity: but swallowed up with the most burning heat of thy love, I may only sigh after thee, only desire thee, and leave, loath, and contemn the world, with all that is in it: giving thee thanks with all mine heart, for all things, whether ministering unto me occasion of joy or sorrow.  
O most loving Jesus, I choose thee, I wish thee, I desire thee, I meet thee, and I renounce whatsoever thou art not in me: what thou willest, I will: what thou nillest, I nill: whatsoever thou abhorrest, I abjure. And though sometimes, that 〈◊〉 is contrary to this will in me, may be incident unto me, I beseech thee, O my God, that thou wouldst not impute it unto me, nor judge me according to that depravedness of Will in me, but according to this Election of my mind, by thy grace wrought in me. Because I contradict all those things which I ought not to will: yea, though (which for thy mercy sake avert) I hereafter vanquished, should consent unto, yet now do I accurse and abjure them.  
O most loving Jesus, if it please thee, and redound to thy glory, grant unto me that I may be preserved in this life from all sins and punishments, into which after death I ought otherwise to come, to which I am subject, or may possibly come, and that thou wouldst receive my Soul by the hand of thy mercy, immediately from this life to eternal joys.  
O Lord jesus Christ receive my Spirit, etc.   


A CHRISTIANS LAST-WILL, OR TESTAMENT. Containing A PROTESTATION or Testament, not unprofitable to be repeated, or meditated of every Christian at the point of death.  
Composed, as may be probably gathered, by JOANNES LANSPER GENSIS, and faithfully rendered according to the Original.   

A CHRISTIANS LAST-WILL, OR TESTAMENT.  
Containing A Protestation or Testament, not unprofitable to be repeated, or meditated of every Christian at the point of death.  
Composed, as may be probably gathered, by JOANNES LANSPER GENSIS, and faithfully rendered according to the Original.  
IN the name of the Father, and the Son, and Holy Ghost. I. M. an unhappy Sinner, redeemed with the most precious blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, and that for his great love towards me, no merit of mine, do confess and acknowledge publicly, or by this hand-writing, or in these words, before the Omnipotent God, and before the whole host of Heaven, and before you, so many as stand here as witnesses about me, (if necessity shall so require) that I am, and desire so to dye, a son truly obedient to the holy Catholic Church, with that sincerity as becometh a Christian. And I believe and confess generally, all and every part, particle, portion, or article of the Christian faith, to the belief whereof every Christian stands bound: especially all those particular points whether plainly expressed, or necessarily employed in the twelve articles of Christian faith, for as much as they were delivered unto us, from the holy Spirit, by the twelve Apostles, and recommended to us for Evangelicall truth. And I farther believe and adhere to their inter pretations, or expositions, yet not to all or every one, but to those only, which were published by the holy Fathers, received, admitted, ●pproved and confirmed by the most sacred Counsels, and tried by the truest touchstone of infallible Scripture. And to be brief, I believe whatsoever a Christian ought truly to believe. In which faith so immovable and firm, I rejoice with all mine heart to dye, holding and offering this writing in mine hand, as a most impregnable and invincible shield against all the insults, assaults, deceits, and subtleties of the Devil. And if it so come to pass (which God forbid) that by instigation of the Devil, or violence of sickness, I should think, speak, or do any thing contrary to mine Attestation aforesaid, or should fall into any apostasy, diffidence, or desperation: I wholly revoke and reverse that, whatsoever or howsoever it shall be, here in the presence of you all, and make it as void and of no effect, as if I were distraught of my wits when I did it. Wherefore I appeal unto you all that are here present, and to thee, O holy Angel, to whose guard I am committed, that ye bear witness of this my Protestation before the Omnipotent Judge. Now, for as much as concerneth myself, I do pardon and forgive all injuries of what nature, quality, or condition soever, as have been done me, desiring heartily that the like may be done to me by those, whom I have at any time offended, either in word or deed. I do likewise crave and desire with all mine heart, that I may be made partaker of all good works, which either are already done, or shall be hereafter done by holy men through the whole Church: whensoever, or whereinsoever their office or ministry may be useful to me: but principally of the most bitter Passion, and most innocent death of our Lord Jesus Christ. And may this my natural, voluntary, and desired approach of death, stand through his merits and mercies, 
Christ's mercies, my merits.  for all my sins. And I wish to God that I had never at any time sinned, either against God, or his Laws, or my Superiors, or my Neighbours, or myself.  
Lastly, I give thanks to mine Omnipotent God, for all his benefits bestowed upon me, and I commend my body and soul into his hands, and to the bitterness of the Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be praise, and honour, and dignity for evermore, Amen.    

AN ELEGY OF St. Dionysius, a Carthusian, of the judgement of death, and the sundry casualties thereof.  
TO Earth returns, whatsoever from Earth had birth;  
Flower fades, shade vades, what's bred is brought to Earth.  
Nought judge I long that doubtful bound can stay,  
To morrow day may be my only day.  
Short is that day to day: which well may be  
My day, my doom, a fearful day to me.  
A fearful horrid day, when all my store  
Is closed in clay, and I can earn no more.  
Who thinks his days long (alas) he thinks amiss,  
Nor long nor safe is one whole day of his.  
In vain speak I of days, days not expressed,  
When not one day nor hour can promise rest.  
Thy long liv'd hopes (if so thou like) extend,  
Yet nought of nought, shall come to nought i'th'end.  
Thou●ands, ten thousands, thousand thousands were  
On Earth, now Earth, whose names lie buried here:  
This only rests, that each receive his hire,  
Good works deserve good gifts, ungodly fire.  
Behold the fearful judge, thy final doom!  
Prepare thyself, this dreadful day will come.  
Fear then and quake, compose, direct thy mind,  
Live to dye now, and suffer what's assigned.   

An Epistle of Ludovicus Blosius, written to an especial friend, upon the perfecting and publishing of his work entitled, The Parlour of the Soul.  
BEhold thou hast, my dear beloved in Christ, 
a Conclave animae.  The Parlour of the Soul, which thou hast so long time desired. Having now lately written The spiritual Glass, both for thyself and me, I had purposed to have added nothing thereto: howbeit afterwards, I could by no means satisfy thy desire, unless I annexed unto it, The spiritual jewel, Crown, and Casket, all which this our Parlour containeth. Which truly came later to the Press than thou wished: but take it in good part, being done by the purpose and ordinance of God. Now if thou setting aside sometimes thy more weighty cares and employments, become delighted with the reading of such simple books as are published by me (as thou seemest to be delighted) I do advise thee that first thou enter into this Parlour, and diligently consider and discuss those things which are therein: And afterwards that thou take into thy hand that Psychagogia, which I have collected some years ago, out of Augustine and Gregory. For the doctrine of the Fathers set down in these two Books, shall mightily comfort and confirm thee being of so good disposition, and inflame thee to the love of God & thy heavenly Country. Let it not be tedious to thee ofttimes to read over these and such like devout works, yea, though thy reading afford small or no sweet relish to the palate of thine heart. For too delicate is he, who casteth aside all such holy and wholesome directions as he had once read, or heard, and will not read nor hear them any more. I give thanks unto my Lord Jesus, for that thy Brother, after such time as he had read over that Tract of mine entitled, Comfort for the weak hearted, and now by me published, he becomes now less afflicted with inordinate fear, than before. Let him ascribe that relief, as received solely from God and his holy Doctors, who speak unto him in that Tract of comfort. He does well surely, to grieve and sorrow for that he hath offended God without measure or number all the bypast time of his life: nevertheless he is to have his affiance and confidence in the boundless sweetness of God's mercy. Let him think how most of those who had slain Christ, afterwards received pardon by believing in Christ: to the end truly, that all men should learn, that no crimes or offences are so grievous, which God most gracious and full of the fatness of mercy, will not forgive to such as are faithful Converts and true Penitents before him. For it is an especial property ●est becoming our most holy God, to have mercy and spare these, who humble themselves before him, and heartily ●eg pardon of him. Rightly doth thy Brother confess that at all times he is very imperfect: yet let let him remember, that the imperfect cost Christ as dear as the most perfect. That inconstancy or instability of mind, wherewith he saith, that he is afflicted in his prayer, is common to innumerable servants of God. There is no cause then that he should be hereby so much amated. For if he suffer this distraction against his will, and strive wirh his best endeavour to become attentive, his prayer humbly poured forth in this distraction, is ofttimes more useful and fruitful, than if it were performed with great attention of heart. For God approveth his desire, affection, and devout endeavour, and purgeth the soul with such like griefs as these, or else conserveth and adorneth it being purged and purified from these distractions. Exhort him always, that he be of good courage. If with a patient and resigned heart, he suffer for the love of God his afflictions, and want of health, whereof almost he daily laboureth, he need not doubt, but so soon as he shall lay off this grievous, onerous, and bitter load of corruptible flesh, he shall enjoy eternal joy and health. Go to then, my Beloved, let us observe ourselves, I pray thee, vigilantly, and so endeavour to live circumspectly, as becometh true Christians, who bear both the style and state of Christianity. Let us pass over all the residue of our present life profitably. In all things that we do, let us wirh singleness of heart principally respect the praise and glory of God. Let us love jesus, who loveth us with a most ardent and unmeasurable love. For his honour let us mortify in us as much as we may, our own proper and depraved wills and vices. Let us subject and conform us in all things to Gods will. Let us bear a mind humble and resigned: continually desiring and studying to please God. For by this means we shall at last come to that chief and most joyful good: which that we might possess, we were created to the image of God, and redeemed with the precious blood of Christ. We shall come, I say, unto God, who is the amiable abyss & fountain of all light, life, beauty, excellency, sweetness and abundance. Then shall we be truly blessed, seeing the vision of all beauty infinitely exceeding and excelling all the sense-attracting objects of this whole world: for we shall behold in the light of glory the mellifluous countenance of God, and in him, by a most sweet fruition of him, shall we rest, and obtain imperturbable peace. Then shall we abound with unspeakable joy, & shall be fully satisfied, and shall perfectly love, and praise God for evermore. O how great felicity is it to attain to the clear vision of God; and again, how great infelicity, to be deprived of it, and to be drenched in hell, and there horribly to be tormented without end! Farewell in the Lord, and pray for me.  
That excellent part of the Dialogue composed by D. Henricus Suso, wherein the praises and profits of afflictions are expressed, and many other precepts usefully delivered, some few days since I inserted in my Comfort for the weak hearted, that I might gratify thy brother. He shall easily procure it, so soon as it shall be reprinted. As touching the sayings of the aforesaid Suso, which thou desirest should be sent unto thee, here receive them, as I have compiled them for thee, and addressed them to thee.   

CERTAIN choice or select sayings of D. Henricus Suso.  
Of the love of the world, And Of the love of God.  
THat most holy and beloved man of God, Henricus Suso, lamenting the infelicity of such, as entangled in vain love, and wholly given over to this present world, do neglect God and their own salvation, exhibiteth his complaint be●ore God after this manner. Truly, O Lord, it is a thing much to be lamented, that so many hearts fit for holy love, so many excellent and beautiful souls stamped with God's image, which by a spiritual wedlock with thee contracted, might become Q●eenes and Empresses, and have dominion over heaven and earth, should so foolishly and imprudently estrange themselves from thee, deject themselves so basely, and perish so wittingly. Surely I am persuaded, that if the inward eyes of all men should so see thee, as I see thee, all transitory love would be forthwith extinguished in them. I cannot sufficiently admire, O Lord, (albeit I stood sometimes far otherwise affected) that any one's soul should possibly rest in any thing but in thee, the most vast and unbounded depth. O incomprehensible good, and inwardly to be embraced! O most sweet Lord, how well is it with that soul which only loveth thee, and which thou with the divine streams and beams of thy grace, excellently enlightenest, and to to thyself more nearly joinest and couplest! What heavenly and mellifluous consolation doth such a soul draw from thee, what secret delights of sacred love doth she conceive in thee? Thou art the boundless Sea of most pure and inestimable pleasures. What amiableness, comeliness, beauty soever can by any means be conceived, all that above all measure, is to be found in thee plenteously stored. Nothing that is pleasant, grateful, or plausible, can be found in any creature, which is not in a most pure and exquisite manner infinitely more abundant and excellent in thee. So often as I behold the forms of beautiful objects, when I take a view by inward contemplation of heaven, earth, woods, and fields, and of the whole world, all these things seem to convent, and summon my heart in these words: Consider how amiable and beautiful he is, who hath made us, who is the fountain of all beauty. O Lord Jesus what joy do I receive from thee? Surely, while I do think, how I am beloved of thee, the most high God; whatsoever is within me, melteth through the joy which I conceive of thee. For this therefore do I rejoice in my mind, for as much as thou art so good, as thou vouchsafest to be my friend, as I constantly hope, and confidently trust.   

Of the Passion of our Lord.  
THe same Suso in a Dialogue bringeth in the eternal wisdom, that is Christ Jesus, talking with his Minister of his Passion, after this manner: The heart of man is much more grateful unto me, if it be freed of earthly love, and by perpetual diligence intentive to imitate the excellent example of my life, than if he should follow me with continual laments, and should shed so many tears as there be drops of rain which fall from the air. For in the suffering of my most bitter death, this especially have I intended & aimed, that men should imitate me: albeit pious and devout tears be likewise very acceptable unto me. If thou canst not remember my most bitter Passion with watery eyes, do it notwithstanding, with a cheerful mind, for these unmeasurable good things which thou derivest from it. But if neither joyfully nor dolefully thou canst meditate of it, yet with a dry heart to my praise trace cursorily over it. For so shalt thou perform an office of observance, no less grateful to me, than if with tears of compassion and sweetness of affection, thou shouldst wholly melt into a flood of devotion. For by this means shouldst thou effect a work through love, without respect unto thyself. But to the end that this my Passion may pierce nearer thine heart, and thou become more affected to it, hear what I shall speak unto thee.  
The soul which hath bound herself in many sins, may with the treasure of my Passion so much enrich her, and apply it to her, that though she deserved a thousand years to be punished, and with a thousand kinds of exquisite tortures to be afflicted, in a short time both the sin and punishment due for the same may sue release, and in her passage hence comfortably depart in peace, and be translated to heaven as her true resting place. But this must be done by this means; by weighing and discussing with a contrite heart frequently and fervently the greatness and multitude of those odious sins, wherewith so irreverently she ●a●h offended the eyes of her heavenly Father; afterwards for works of Satisfaction, as he is not to omit them, so is he to disvalue them, as such, that if compared with his sins, they are no more than one drop of water in comparison of the main sea; but he is to advance and extol wonderfully the greatness of my Satisfaction, seeing the very lest drop of my precious blood, which every where streamed from my whole body, had been sufficient for taking away the sins of a thousand worlds: of which Satisfaction of mine, nevertheless so much every one applieth to himself, as he conformeth himself to me in suffering with me, and as he humbly and seriously crowneth the smallness of his satisfaction, in the infiniteness of my Expiation.   

Of the holy Eucharist.  
IN that selfsame Dialogue of Suso, the wisdom incarnate discoursing of the holy Eucharist, saith to his Minister; The least gift that proceedeth from me in the venerable Sacrament, shineth and beameth much more gloriously unto all eternity, than any splendour of this visible Sun, and is much more brighter and clearer than the very bright Daystar itself. Briefly, it adorneth thee much more excellently, by a certain eternal comeliness & beauty, than at any time any Summer, be it never so pleasant, beautifieth the earth. But dost thou not (perhaps) doubt whether this most illustrious Divinity of mine be more bright than any Sun, and my most excellent soul more sparkling than any Star, and my glorious body more delightful than the pleasantness of any Summer? All which in very truth thou conceivest in the Eucharist. Where I am the Bread of life to the devout and well-prepared: but to the unworthy, who continue by affection or action in mortal sins, I am a temporary Plague here, and an eternal curse hereafter: for on these waiteth certain damnation, unless they be reconciled to me by true repentance. Surely, if any one were endued with the natural purity of all the Angels, & renowned with the the integrity and sanctity of all the Saints, and adorned with the good works of all mortal men; yet, though thus accomplished, were not he worthy to receive me in the Sacrament. But when man doth all that he can, nothing more is required at his hands, seeing whatsoever is wanting through him, I supply in him. But far better it is to come to this venerable Sacrament in love, than to abstain from it through fear.   

Of resigning, denying, and mortifying himself.  
SVso likewise wrote these singular sentences touching resigning and denying one's self. A perfect life consists not especially in this, that thou abound in comfort, but that thou submit and resign thy will to the divine will. That thou humbly obey his will in the bitter sop of affliction, and the sweet syrup of consolation; and that thou place and debase thyself under the feet of all men. For nothing is more pleasing to the supreme Angelical spirit himself, than in all things to satisfy the divine will: In so much, as if he knew that it would redound to the praise of God, to pull up nettles, or other weeds by the root, he would most desiredly perform this task before all others. There is no Resignation more perfect or excellent, than to be resigned wholly in the forsaking of himself: neither ought any one to be too much grieved in mind, if he have small experience of spiritual sweetness: Let him rather think how he is unworthy of it. A true Resignation of himself to the will of God, both in affairs certain and uncertain, without all doubt freeth and secureth man from all perils and occurrents, causing him to rejoice with true peace in all things. So great is the piety and benignity of God, that he can by no means at any time forsake him, who with a confident heart relieth on his goodness, and recommendeth and resigneth himself wholly to his Divine Providence. True submission, depression, and abnegation of ones self, is the root of all virtues, of all health and happiness. It grieveth one surely to be wise and eloquent, and notwithstanding to be enjoined silence: to be by others disesteemed, derided, iujuried, to hear himself calumniated and traduced, and not to defend & revenge his cause: or for a wise and honourable man to give place to a naughty wretch, and one of no reckoning, a●d not to withstand it: and yet all this is nothing else surely than by denial of himself, to become conformable to the excellent pattern of Christ. Now albeit, in suffering affliction we be not always of a mind equally resigned, yet are we not to conclude therefore, that ●ope of salvation is taken away, or the grace of God lost: so that we do not kick and rebel against God with a stubborn mind. Works, exercises, and instructions, whether performed with our own proper will, or affection derived from it, although they may seem joys, yet are they of small consequence, so long as denying and resigning of ourselves be not joined with them. It becometh a man that is partaker of reason, to do these works not out of a natural propension, or appetite, like bruit beasts following the instinct of nature, but with reason, to the praise of God, and for the love of God, so as he in no place seek his own private gain, delight, praise, reward, but only God. So to deny, mortify, and relinquish ourselves ought we, that we may in no case refuse to be disvalue, or suffer adversity for God, that we may diligently refrain both our tongue▪ and senses, suffering no inordinate delight to possess us, or the desire thereof to surprise us. As a Plate or Lamell of gold set unto our eyes, doth no less hinder our sight, than a plate of iron: so it behoveth us to renounce, and remove from our minds all instable mortal creatures, be they never so noble, if we will enjoy that most excellent Good, which is God. In true denial, the whole Sum of Perfection consisteth: without which none shall profit, what way soever he turn him. Almighty God grant us grace, that with incessant endeavour we may perpetually strive to deny, mortify, relinquish, resign, go forth of ourselves, and disesteem ourselves. Amen.    


TO HIS MOST Dear and affectionate Sisters, their faithful Brother dedicates THIS Passionate Pilgrim; AS A living Memorial of his unfeigned love never dying.  
MY tears, my joys; my widdow-weed, my Bride;  
My prize, heaven's praise; my love, Christ crucified.   

THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM; Breathing A Contemplative Man's Exercise: Offering A Penitent Souls Sacrifice.   

THE Contemplative Man's Exercise: Or Penitent Souls Sacrifice.  

The wise man's heart is ever fixed on God,  
And with a filial kiss receives his rod.   
Go to now, miserable man, fly a little thine occupations, retire thyself for a space from thy tumultuous cogitations. Lay aside now thine onerous cares, and set apart thy laborious distentions. Reserve thyself a while for God, and rest thyself a little in him. Enter into the chamber of thy mind, shut out all things besides God, and those things which help thee to seek him, and having shut thy gate, seek him. Say now, O my heart, say now; O my Lord, I seek thy countenance, thy countenance, O Lord, do I seek. Go to therefore now my Lord God, teach mine heart, where and how it may seek thee, where and how it may find thee. O Lord, if thou be'st not here, where may I seek thee being absent? But being every where, why do I not see thee present? But surely thou inhabitest a light inaccessible. But where is that light inaccessible? Or how shall I come to that light inaccessible? Or who will guide me, and bring me to it, that I may see thee in it? Then, with what signs, with what face shall I seek thee? I have not seen thee, O Lord my God, I have not known thy face. What shall he do, O most high Lord, what shall this thy foreign banished one do? What shall thy servant do, doubtful of thy love, and far casten off from thy face? He longeth to see thee, and thy face is far from him. He desireth to come unto thee, and thine habitation is inaccessible. He desireth to find thee, and knoweth not thy place. He affecteth to seek thee, and knoweth not thy countenance. O Lord, thou art my God, and thou art my Lord, and I never saw thee. Thou hast made me, and remade me: and all those good things which I have, hast thou bestowed on me, and I have not yet known thee. Finally, to see thee was I made, yet have not I done that for which I was made. O miserable condition of man, to lose that for which he was made! O hard and harsh chance is this! Out alas, what has he lost, and what has he found? What is gone, and what abideth? He hath lost happiness, for which he was made, and he hath found unhappiness, for which he was not made. That is gone, without which nothing is happy, and that abideth which of itself is nothing but unhappy. Man did eat the bread of Angels, which now he tastes not: now he eats the bread of sorrows, which then he knew not. O the public lamentation of men, the universal mourning of the children of Adam! He flowed in all plenteous manner, we sigh for hunger. He abounded, we fast. He happily possessed, and miserably lost: we unhappily need, and miserably beg: and alas, we remain empty. Why did he not keep for us when he easily might, what we so grievously want? Why he's he thu● shut the light from us, and brought darkness upon us? Wretched men, whence are we expulsed, and whereto are we forced? Yea, whither are we headlong thrown, where overwhelmed? From our Country to exile: from the sight of God to our blindness: From the joy of immortality, into the bitterness and horror of death. Miserable exchange! from how great good, to how great evil? Great loss, great grief, nothing but griefs. But out alas for me unhappy wretch, one amongst the rest of the miserable children of Eve, divided from God, what have I done, what have I begun? Whither did I go, whereto am I come? to what did I aspire, in what do I now sigh? I sought for good, and behold trouble. I went towards God, and behold I became an offender against myself. I sought for rest in my secret paths, and I found tribulation and sorrow in my inward parts. I would have laughed through the joy of my mind, and I was enforced to roar through the grief of mine heart. Joy was expected, and behold how sighs were increased! How long, Lord, wilt thou forget us? How long wilt thou turn thy face from us? When wilt thou look upon us, and hear us? When wilt thou enlighten our eyes, and show thy face to us? When wilt ●hou restore thyself to us? O Lord look upon us, hear us, enlighten us. Show thyself to us, that it may be well with us, without whom it is so ill with us. Have mercy on our labours and endeavours directed to thee, who are able to do nothing without thee. Enlighten us, help us. I beseech thee, O Lord, let me not despair through fainting, but respire by hoping. I beseech thee, O Lord, mine heart is made bitter with her desolation, Sweeten it with thy consolation. I beseech thee, O Lord, I hungry have begun to seek thee, let me not depart fasting from thee; I hunger-starved have come unto thee, let me not depart unfed from thee. I poor come to thee rich, I miserable to thee merciful, let me not depart empty and contemned: and if before I eat I sigh, grant that after my sighs I may eat. O Lord, I am become crooked, and cannot but look downward, raise me that I may look upward: mine iniquities are gone over mine head, they overwhelm me, and as an heavy burden press me. Free and disburden me, lest the ditch stop her mouth upon me. Let me look upon thy light, though a far off, though from the deep. Teach me to seek thee, and show thee to me seeking thee: because neither can I seek thee, unless thou teach me: nor find thee, unless thou show thee. Let me seek thee by desiring, desire thee by seeking, find thee by loving, love thee by finding. I confess, O Lord, and I give thanks: because thou hast created in me this thine Image, that being mindful of thee, I might think of thee, and love thee. But so abolished is this image with the blemishes of vice, and so darkened with the smoke of sin, as it cannot do that for which it was made, unless thou renew, and reform it. I presume not, O Lord, to pierce thine height, for I can by no means nor measure compare mine understanding to it, yet I desire in some sort to understand thy truth, which mine heart believeth and loveth. Neither do I believe to understand that I may believe, but I believe that I may understand. For this, likewise, I believe, that unless I believe, I shall not understand. Therefore, O Lord, thou who givest understanding to faith, give unto me that I may understand so much, as thou knowest to be expedient for me; for thou art as we believe, and this thou art which we believe, true God, who livest and reignest world without end.   

DEAHTS' Memorial.  
The Child of God thinks willingly of death,  
To rest with Him, who after death gives breath.  
NOw to shut up all, with that which closeth all, by imposing a Period upon all; We are to consider, now when the sinful soul beginneth to be loosened from these bonds of flesh, 
Pet. Damian. de Hor●●ort●●.  with what bitter terror she is afflicted, with what stings of a biting conscience she is distracted. She remembers the things forbidden her, which she hath committed; She considers the things commanded her, which she hath negligently contemned; she bemoanes those opportunate times of repentance offered her, and which she so fruitlessly apprehended; she bewails that immovable article of strict revenge, inevitably approaching her. She h'as had sufficient time of sojourning here; she is now compelled to go hence. She would regain that which she he's lost, but she is not heard. Behind her, she beholds the whole course of her forepast life, all which she accounts as one short pace. She casts her eyes upon herself, and collects the space of an infinite perpetuity. She laments therefore, in that she he's lost, what in so short a space she might have got, the joy of all ages. She bemoanes herself, in that for so short a pleasure of fleshly delight, she he's lost the unspeakable sweetness of perpetual solace. She blusheth, in that for this substance which is subject to worms, she he's neglected that which was to have been ranked amongst Quires of Angels. Now she lifteth up the beams of her mind, and no sooner beholdeth the glory of immortal riches, than she becomes confounded, for that she he's lost them for the poverty of this life. Again, when she casteth her eyes under her in a despicable reflex upon the valley of this world, and eyeing it to be nothing but darkness, but above her wonders at the beauty of that eternal light, she clearly sees, that it was night, and darkness which she loved. O that she might but purchase some small remainder of time for repentance, what a sharp course of conversation would she take upon her? what and how great things would she promise? with what vows of devotion would she enwreath her? In the mean time, while her divine eyes grow dark, while her heart beats, while her hoarse throat gasps, her teeth grow by little and little black, and draw, as it were, unto them a certain rust, her countenance becomes pale, and all her members stiff. While these, then, and such like as forerunning offices of approaching death attend her, all her works and words present themselves before her; nay, not her very thoughts are absent, and all these bring in bitter testimony against their author. All these are heaped together before the eyes of her viewing them, so as, even those things which she shuneth to behold, she is enforced, though against her will, to take notice of. Besides all this, there is here an horrid troop of Devils, and there a glorious train of Angels. By that which appears betwixt them, may be clearly perceived, which of them he's most property in her. For if tokens of piety be discovered in her, she is cheered with the delights of an angelic invitation, and alured with the sweetness of an harmonious melody, to go forth. But if the blackness of her merits, and the impurity of her foul and filthy life adjudge her to the left hand, presently with an intolerable terror she becomes surprised, with the violence of a sudden force she is disturbed, dejected, invaded, and from the prison of miserable flesh violently haled, that to eternal torments with bitterness she may be tugged. Now, after her departure from the body, who can utter what armed troops or Squadrons of wicked Spirits lie in ambush for her; what treacherous trains furnished with cruel tortures besiege the way that receives her? And lest the soul should escape them, legions of furies, as it were, in military ranks or battalions enclose her. This and ●u●h like frequently to meditate of in thine heart, what else is it than to shun delightful blandishments, to be divorced from the world, and to shake off unlawful motions of the flesh, and constantly to retain the sole purpose of attaining perfection; Which that we may do, God for his mercy grant us. Amen.   

Sedeo, Sileo, Signo. Death's distinction.  
O My soul, 
Bern.  good is the death of the just, in respect of tranquillity, better in respect of novelty, best in respect of security. chose, the death of sinners is the worst, and rightly the worst, evil in losing the world, worse in parting from the flesh, but worst in that twofold an● guish of a worm never dying, and a fire ever burning, and which is worst of all, in being deprived of divine contemplation.    

HOLY MEMORIALS; Or Heavenly Memento's. Memor fui Domini, & Delectatus sum.  A bono die bonum opus suscipiamus; & ab illo die, in quo veluti, Christus ascenderit, piis desideriis ascendamus. 

Of his Conception.  
MEMORIAL I.  
I Was not, and thou didst make me; I had no being, and thou gave it me. I was conceived in sin, before I conceived what was Sin. Nature laid on me a stain, before she brought me to a visible state. My blood was corrupted, before ever I entered. Tainted it was, when Eve was tempted and weakly consented. Thus did my parents make me forlorn, before ever I was borne. Even then, when the second skin was my coat, was Sin my Cognizance. Seeds of sin sprung in me, before the Light took notice of me: And these had their rooting from those that bred me. Long before I had ability to sin, were all my members made instruments of sin. Before I had the use of any sense, sin had made a slave of every sense. For mine eyes, while they were as yet sealed, sights of sin had entered them. For mine ears, though they were as then closed, airs of sin had pierced them. For my taste, before I enjoyed it, an Apple had poisoned it. For my Touch, before I employed it, had Eves pulse▪ soiled it. For my Smell, before I knew how to use it, had the steames of earth choked it. I was shut up as one in darkness: and dark I was within as well as without, by means of mine original uncleanness. I conversed with none, none with me: my mother's womb was that living tomb which enclosed me. Thus before ever I saw the Sun, became I a growing lump of sin Unable was I to commit it, yet apt enough to be conceived in it. Nothing I had about me, but what did stain me. The Materials whereof I was made, I am ashamed to name. Ah! poor shell of corruption! impure shrine, or new-formed piece of pollution! I as then knew not by whom I was made, how I was made, when or where I was made, or for what end I was made. Miserable ignorance! I knew her not in whose womb I was conceived, nor that sin wherein I was conceived. I was as a stranger to my father's house, yet was I daily in it. An Alien was I to my Brethren, yet lived I amongst them. And as a thing not known, Sojourned I amongst my Kinsmen. Capable abilities had I both inward and outward, yet enjoyed I the benefit of neither. Without all sensible compassion, a daily pain was I to my sickly mother. I lived as one dead, for many months together; and was fed, without seeking food, by course of Nature. I was as one closed up, and might have no passage till the time appointed. I increased daily, yet knew I not the means of my growth. He only who made and fashioned me, knew me; long before I came out of the womb, did he know what would become of me. Paths had he prepared for me, before I had knowledge how to walk in them. He had determined mine end, before I received birth. Long time did I wrestle with my enforced restraint, labouring still to be freed; yet became I more miserable by my freedom than restraint. I wished, and yet I knew not what, I was the very lest of a child; what less then, could be my knowledge? I was weary of my bed, yet going out of it I was fit for nothing. By this I foretold how far I would be from being content with my estate on earth; when my weak infancy could not be content with her condition before my birth. In a better case was I when so incased, than when to the miseries of earth enthralled. A right worldling was I, before I came into it, for I grew no sooner a little strong, than I grew to be weary of my former estate. Any one that had seen me, would have thought there had been no sin in me. But I became so naturalised a ●inner as it was a task no less hard for me to put off sin than nature. But as one kept in too long, like a new-fledged bird, I begun to flicker a little with my tender unset wings, and to leave my first nest. But sharply was she that bred me pained with me before she could be discharged of me. So unnatural was I to mine own before I entered the world. Gather hence what may be expected from me, after my entry into the world.   

Of his Birth.  
MEMORIAL II.  
I Thought I had got out o'th' jail: but I found one worse than that which I left. For having changed a Lesser world for a Greater, I found my miseries so much more numerous, as the place I came to was larger than the former. In the very beginning I showed myself to my friends unthankful; yet must they hold me excused; for those salutes were natural. They entertained me with smiles, and I gratified them with tears.  
Lachrymae were the only musical airs that ushered me to this vale of woes. My very first voice employed a prophecy: my tears forerunners of my following misery. I came into the world naked; whereas all other creatures come clothed and armed. With what joy was I received, while those that saw me, cried, How like is he to his Father? And they said well, if they pointed at Adam, for his blood made me his son, and like himself a sinner.  
What a foolish part it was (had I well considered it) to see wise men rejoicing at the sight of one who was entering the Tiring-house of mourning! The Thracians, though Pagans, showed themselves in this more Christians. These lamented their Babes birth, but rejoiced at their death. What great delight could any take in me, when I came so bare into the world, as I brought not with me one poor rag to shroud my shame: and all the regreets I returned them, tears and shrieks? These deserved no great entertainment of joy. To see such a feeble thing, as could afford itself no succour. An Infant Pilgrim, who could not find a tongue to beg him harbour! One, who wanted all things, yet could not tell it's own ●ants. This might rather move compassion than joy. And such a poor one was I. Nothing did I see that could please me. Still were my late-unsealed eyes flowing, my seeble voice shrieking; nought but notes of misery every where resounding. And deserved these such pleasing entertainment? By my birth, I got nothing to myself, but tears; to my friends, nothing but cares and fears. To feed me was their care; lest I should be better fed than taught was their fear. Sleep, Food, and Shrieks, all which begot my parents trouble, were the best things I rendered them; and the whole expense of those hours, which I bestowed on them. Silly infancy! when that pleaseth the Parent best, and batteneth the Infant most, which profiteth the world least, Sleep. Small cause had my Parents to have joyed in my birth, had they considered how my entry led me into a maze of misery, a vale of vanity. How that small portion of flesh, which I brought along with me, would in time prove my professed enemy. My first tears told the world that I had something in me, which annoyed me. My original guilt struck tears into mine eyes, fears into my heart. Naked came I, as one stripped of his coat. And this nakedness came by the loss of my garment of innocence. My Grandfire never found himself naked, till he had transgressed. Then, and never till then, flew he to the bushes. But what availed it him to fly from his sight, whose eyes were in every place? Small doubt but I would have taken the same course, could I either have considered my guilt, or found feet to hasten mine escape. But I found an ignorance in the one; and a weakness in the other. Thus was I borne in sin, before I could bear up myself. Yet for all this did my Parents account of me as a rich prize. Dandled must I be till I sleep; wrapped in warm clothes; carefully nursed; tenderly used: and if my too dear Parents got but one poor smile from their Babe, they held their care and cost highly recompensed. Thus begun I my life in tears, and continued it with fears, hopes, and griefs. Which made me many times with hearty sighs in the privy chamber of mine heart, to conclude: Better was the day of ones death, than the day of his birth. And that the best thing that could be unto man, was not to be borne at all: and the next, to dye soon. For what brought I into the world with me, but pulleys which haled me along to misery? And what bestowed the world on me, when she had received me, but clouts and bands. The one to proclaim my poverty, the other my captivity. So as, all the entertainment I had from this goodly Storehouse of worldly happiness, was want, and restraint.  
Thus scarce able to creep, (yet distinguished by reason from all other creeping things) I at last got crawled from the state of infancy to childhood. Where, as I increased in years (though insensible, and therein more miserable) I increased still in the measure of my wants and woes.   

Of his Childhood.  
MEMORIAL III.  
NOw was I weaned from my Nurse's milk, but not from my Grandhams sin. I begun with Christ's Cross, but soon was I tired with learning it; which showed how quickly I would be afterwards wearied with bearing it. I held the condition of any creature more happy than that of a Scholar. So as it was my desire (so soon did the heat of goodness, the hopes of towardliness expire) to learn in jest, but play in earnest. I found in myself a conceit apt enough for any sports; in these I could lesson others: But in the School of Virtue, I was ever slowest in reading, or taking out any such lesson to myself. How long seemed that day, when learning was enjoined me for a task? How speedy that hour, wherein liberty was given me to play? Thus like a Bear to the stake, was I haled to my book, wherein I found afterwards the happiest state. Wand'ring, albeit not much harmful fancies, begun now to seize on me. I was seldom contented, by being seated in that place where I was: nor with that sport I last affected. When I was in my father's house, my desire was to be in the field; when I was in the field, I longed to be at home. My childish ambition (indeed) was not high. My delights, as they required no great cost; so were they purchased with less care. Easie and narrow were my desires; they aspired no higher than to points, pins, or cherry-stones. Trifles had so taken up my imagination, as it could reach no further. Yet in these weak vanities, my desire was to be a conqueror. Now when I found myself grown from my coat, my Parents fou●d no such thing in my conditions. Those were childish still, and held both their first shape and size. None ever breathed, that was longer time a child: or that longed less after the state and style of Man. My thoughts were so fitted to that age, as if that age were ever to be master of my thoughts. I measured every one by mine own Last, and mused how any one could be serious. I knew not what they meant by a dear Summer, or an unseasonable Harvest. These were the least and lightest of my cares: while I found plenty, I dreamt little of others scarcity. Mine highest outrage was the breach of an Orchard. Yet such inbred seeds were sown in me by his grace that made me, as I thought this was not well done of me. But whatsoever I did in myself correct; others were as apt quickly to corrupt. If other children approved it, I gave way unto it. I shaped my affection by their liking: my election by their loving. Thus went I on a proficient in nothing so much as folly. I wished for time after time to please my childish fancy: but never weighed the preciousness of time, nor how all things slaved to time were vanity. Few and weak were my desires; nor did they much differ from those of an inferior creatures, being altogether for the present. How easily might any one have deceived me with shadows for substance; Esau in preferring a mess of pottage before his inheritance, was never more foolish, than I was in the estimate of my vanities. What a brave youth held I myself with mine Eldern Gun, Hobby-horse, and Rattle? A poor pride, and yet rich enough for that time. What was only before me, seemed dear unto me. Yesterday was too long for me to remember: and to morrow too long for me to expect. I held the present day, the only date of my pleasure. No day was to me ominous, but if any were, none so much, as after a long Breaking up, to return to School. I found in myself a natural fear; but this proceeded rather from sight of the rod, than any propensity to what was good. This fear taught me first how to flatter; and this I began first to practise on my Master. What fair promises would I make him, in hope of one hours' reprieve from him! All things should be amended; mean time, nothing less intended. Thus went I on in my childish ways; wise enough to be a Wag; too light, to be truly wise. So as, I might be well compared to that Top, I so much used; which always ran round, & never went forward, unless it were whipped. A true Truant, but a weak Proficient. Liberty I still desired, yet made no use of it. Books I loved only for their Cover; Flowers and indented Letters I preferred before the matter. Thus was my childhood bestowed; though some glowing hopes raked up in the embers appeared; which did not a little glad their longing hearts which gave me nurture: but how these hopes ripened, you may hereafter gather.   

Of his Youth.  
MEMORIAL IV.  
BY this time I had served two Apprenticeships in the world. And was grown higher in stature, but for my discretion, it kept still the same measure. Yet turning over a new leaf, and recalling to mind my former life; I never looked on what my childhood did, without a glowing blush. Yet for all this, might my childhood, if I ●ad fallen back into it, been as much ashamed of what was done in my youth, as my youth was of what was done in my childhood. Now had I left my Scraple, Scourge, and Top with my Coat. For then in my heat of youth, did I hunt after pleasures of more height. Heavy hunting, when I made mi●e own darling a prey to my foe! I could walk in no place, but snares were laid ready for me, to entrap me; yet would not I so much as eye them, lest by taking notice of them, I should avoid them, and so lose the pleasure I took in them. Thus were my delights mounted to a fuller height; and quickened with more youthful heat; both which beget in my now relenting soul a late, but hearty hate. Not a day passed over my head, without some spiritual hurt. The easiest of my vanities were light amorous Poems. I held those, employments for my best hours. O what a prize, what a booty, held I a favour snatched from a light piece of beauty? My fortunes were not great, which enjoined me to a spa●er expense. But if my small credit could supply what my fortunes wanted; I sticked not much on the meanest commodities to make up that want. My melancholy ever proceeded from want of money. While Roaring was in request, I held it a complete fashion. For Civility, I held it for such a rag of unbeseeming Gentry, as I scorned to take acquaintance of it. I had long before this, aspired to a pipe of rich Smoke with a Tinderbox, and these gave light to my lighter discourses. I held my pockets sufficiently stored, if they could but bring me off for mine Ordinary, and after dinner purchase me a stool on the stage. I had cares enough besides hoarding; so as, I held it fit to disburden myself of that, and resign it over to the worldling. A long winter night seemed but a Midsummer night's dream, being merrily passed in a Catch of four parts, a deep health to a light Mistress, and a knot of brave blades to make up the Consort. I could jeer Him to his face, who● I needed most, Ten at hundred, I mean; and he would not stick to pay me in mine own coin. I might beg a courtesy at his hands, but to starve for't never prevail; for herein I found this instrument of usury and the Devil to be of one Society▪ and that they craved nothing of any one, save only S●ouritie. A weak blast of light fame, was a great part of that portion I aimed at. And herein was my madness! I held nothing so likely to make me known to the world, or admired in it, as to be debauched, and to purchase a Parasites praise by my riot. It is not in me; no, it is far from me and my memory, to recall to mind what miriads of hours that time mis-spended. Scarcely one poor minute can I bethink me on, wherein I did aught, or expressed myself in aught, that might redound to his honour, whom now in mine age I have only sought. How truly might I say in those days, in those many evil days, I had been secure, if Society had not made me impure? And yet must I be enforced to retract this too, if I desire freely to lie open myself, and speak what is true. For of all those Consorts, whose company I used, I found no Consort worse than myself. Yea, I confess (and may this my confession be never without hearty contrition) that it is impossible for me to remember, how many poor simple souls, who when they scarce knew how to sin, I taught them; when they were willing to sin, I persuaded them; when they withstood sin, I constrained them; when they inclined to sin, I consented to them. Yea, to how many I lay snares in the way where they walked, for how many I made pitfalls in the way when they sought it: And to the end I might not be afraid to commit, I feared nothing at all to forget. (Aug. Med. c. 3.) O how often have I returned, after such time as I had mourned, to that v●mit which I seemingly loathed, and to that clay wherein I formerly wallowed? How strong were my promises; how weak my performance? What less than can I do, than resolve myself into tears; that my bespotted soul may be rinsed; my many, innumerably many sins may be rinsed; my too secure soul from the grave of sin raised? With anguish of heart, and bitterness of spirit will I therefore conclude, calling on him who is my trust: Lord forgive me the sins of my youth.   

Of his Manhood.  
MEMORIAL V.  
WHen I was a Child, I loved childishness: when a Youth, delicacy and wantonness. But being now come to Man, what can be less expected than fruits of obedience? Fruits! Few, God knows, and those bitter fruits. Never did man read man more, and express man less. A long time had I been a stranger to my father's house; Many years had I sojourned with the unwary Prodigal in a strange country. I had spent my portion, that fair portion of many rich graces, which my heavenly Father had bestowed on me; I was driven to such want, as I was like to starve; yet would I not acknowledge my poor estate. Return I would not to my father; nor crave any succour; though I was become a most miserable creature, a foul unclean Leper, one utterly lost for ever, had not some kindhearted Samaritan relieved me in such time of danger. But Necessity brings ever along with her some remedy. I suffered my sore to be opened, that it might be cured. I found myself sick, & I besought my Physician, my heavenly Physician, that he would look upon me with the eyes of his compassion. And he came unto me, and healed me: yet, with this condition, that I should sin no more. But I found the custom of sin too hard, and the continuance thereof too sweet to be left so soon. No sooner had I recovered strength, than I returned to my former state. I found the abilities of nature too strong in me, to leave sin so speedily. No sentence in all the Scripture was so fresh nor frequent in my memory, as, At what time soever a sinner doth repent him of his sin, etc. Ezek. c. 18. but I abused the Text, and by it promised to myself more liberty. I held it Security enough to sin secretly. As one retired from the sight both of God and man, to promise more impunity to sin, I sticked not to say, Who seeth me? But woe is me! what was worst of all, and what without grief of heart I shall never remember: Though I saw many eyes upon me, and that my example might have done good to many; for that in the opinion of others, I was ranked both for knowledge and condition before many others; those whom I might by my uprightness have improved, by my looseness of life I depraved. Which made me call to mind with much heaviness of heart, what I had sometimes read: Of so many deaths is every one worthy, as he hath given evil examples to those that live with him, or left evil examples to those that shall succeed him. O my God (thus would I many times commune with mine own heart) how many deaths have I deserved, who held it not enough to undo myself, by taking upon me a liberty of sinning; but to undo others too, by chalking them out a way by my unhappy example for the like freedom of transgressing! This, I confess, could not choose but make me to o●hers most hateful; myself to myself most distasteful. And yet for all this, swum I still in the same stream. Truth it is, that from my youth up, when as yet no early soft down had clothed my chin, I had taken a full perusal of my own estate. I found in me, what of necessity might be either corrected by me; or nought could I look for less than misery. Some bosom sins likewise I found in me after I came to man's estate which ill became the condition of man, and I sought for cure of them. Amongst these, one I culled forth more dear to me than the rest, and which neither day nor night would afford me any rest. And I found means to remove it, or to wean me from it; and I applied them, but got no help by them, because I misapplyed them. for I well remember, after such time as I had been advised, what directions to use, to allay, if not take away, the poison of that darling sin wherewith I was infected; I took great care for a while, to observe whatsoever was enjoined me: and to neglect no means to procure my safety. First, I shut my windows; I admitted no treaties; I abstained from dainties. Secondly, I suffered not my thoughts to converse with lightness. Thirdly, I presented my suit to that High Court of Requests, for more assistance. Fourthly, I subjected my flesh to holy Discipline and obedience. Fifthly, I meditated of Death; and how this dainty pampered flesh would in that time turn to deformity and rottenness. Sixtly, I imparted my griefs to my Superiors, to receive the benefit of their godly counsel and holy prayers. But flesh and blood became soon weary of this Task. Which I no sooner neglected, than I made relapse into that malady, which during all the time of my spiritual exercise, was well assuaged. Thus in my entry to the state of man, after such time as I was gone down to the Grave, and that the Pit had nearly received me; had not my good God taken pity of me, and shown the light of his Countenance upon me: even then, I say, was I no sooner set again on my feet, than I returned to my accustomed filth. And though Manhood had swallowed up my ●outh; yet did my Manhood taste less of Man than my Youth.   

Of his Age.  
MEMORIAL VI  
BEhold! how he who would not remember his Creator in the days of his Youth; nor remember that he was a man; is now come to that feeble estate, as he can scarce remember himself. Now are those Evil days come on me, wherein I may say, I have no pleasure in them. Now, and never till now, feel I the keepers of my house to tremble, and the strong men bow themselves, and the grinders cease, because they are few, and those that look out of the windows be darkened: Now I feel the silver cord loosed, the golden bowl broken, the pitcher broken at the fountain, the wheel broken at the Cistern. (Eccles. 12.) And yet is there none so old, but he hopes to live one year longer; though the longer he lives, his miseries increase in number. But what am I now, who have seen so many evil days; and learned so much by others follies; and read man over and over in every volume? Sure, either now or never there is some appearance of grace, when there is so near approach to my Grave. To be old in years, and young in hours, is an unchristian piece of Arithmetic. Neither can there be any sight more unseemly, than to see an old man, grey in hairs, and grave in years, to have no other argument to prove his years, but his hairs. I am now gathering my vessels in the haven: Neither do I find aught without me, that may so much cheer me, as to hold me one minute longer from my Country. I have passed the Main, and am come a Shore. And yet I must put forth a little further, before I can reach my wished Harbour. I have already entered the Suburbs; my weak Age tells me I draw near the Walls. And yet I feel many things wanting in me, that tell me, I am not so well furnished as I should be. I find, indeed, in me no great ability to sin, but what of all that? Did my will to sin die, while I had ability to sin? If it did not; all this is nothing, nor shall advantage me aught at my ending. For he who ceaseth from sin when he can sin no more, cannot be said to leave sin, but sin to leave him. There is not one servant in all my Meniey that is able to do any service for me; not one living power or faculty that can discharge that peculiar office they owe me. It is high time for me then to shut up shop, and to leave my Trade; my too long trading in sinning, wherein I have spent so many hours (never to be recalled) of precious time. I am now esteemed of, but as some old moth-eaten Calendar without date. If I talk like to one of my years; unseasoned youth jeers such gravity; if I speak aught below myself, strait am I taxed of levity. If I do aught youthfully, it ill becomes me; and if I do like myself, gravely, that distastes me, because it dislikes them whose company delights me. I have green thoughts shrouded under grey locks. So as, it seems I differ in nothing from what I was at first, but only in hair, and unable limbs. For I have a will to do what I did, if I had ability to do what I would. Never was decrepit thing more strong in will, more weak in power. I am now made use of, like as of some aged sullied Record; only brought forth to look upon, and then laid aside. Would I but know what a small portion of worldly means might suffice me; seeing Nature hath now drawn out my thread of life to the full length; I could not but confess that my small remainder of days now left me, had a competency to serve me: yet, while I have one foot in the Grave, my desires are more deep than the Grave; more thirsty than the Earth, to which I am every moment drawing nearer, though in my earthly affections daily stronger. There is nothing in all my house of lesser use than myself; neither is my body half so weak as my mind. My life is but at best, a dying sleep. Nor be my cares ever at better rest, than when I am asleep. The most that can be now said of me, is this; He was a man in his time. But that time is done; for now I turn Child again; and cannot for a world help myself, so near am I to the brink: yet see what light thoughts sparkle out of this dead Turf! My eyes darken; my teeth blacken; my heart heateth; my hoarse throat ruttleth; my countenance hath lost her colour; all my powers and motions their vigour: yet can those dark eyes look and long after another's Farm; those teeth grate and grind themselves for revenge; that poor beating throbbing heart wish for a longer life; that sere and sallow countenance desire to look young; those decayed powers wish to be strong. My friends put me in mind of my Will: and my sick soul answers them with a sigh: Friends, advise him to forget his Will: for it was that only which undid me and him. But my outward house must not be yet disposed of; I love it too well to leave it. Yet a little; and yet a little. Spare me but a very little; I find not myself altogether so weak, as my weakness should yet stand in need of a Will. Thus do I love to deceive myself; while that strong man stands at the door, ready to arrest me. I daily see how those who are every way stronger, are enjoined to pay their debt to Nature. But this I apply not to myself; I look still for some days to be added to my life. None so weak, but he is fit for some work. Though I can neither dig, nor delve, nor fashion myself to any hand-labour; I can devise how to make my Barns larger: But what is all this to setting of my house in Order? Alas! How long have I wearied myself with these wayward cares? How long have I been in preparing, and am still unprepared? What a stir I made for a state, and still neglected my inward state? yea, what got I for all my cares, but an unhappy inheritance of hopes and fears? And what were my hopes, but from those things, from whence I could not expect for either hope or help? And thus I keep my Couch; no less fearful to lose what I already have; than I was sometimes careful to get, what I now have. Woe is me! shall I therefore neglect Heaven, because Heaven h'as dealt so bountifully with me? Shall that which I now scarcely enjoy (for I enjoy it without joy) deprive me of my chiefest joy? Here I feel all the infirmities of Nature; there I shall partake a Lasting youth, and with it abundance of pleasure. Yet these work weakly on me. I would fain build my Tabernacle here. And yet I find no great comfort here. For what may I be said to enjoy, that I possess? Attendants indeed, of Old age I have many, and such as cleave near me. But for aught else without me, I cannot challenge them properly; because a very short time shall impropriate these to my posterity. Those things than that grieve me, I have; nor will they leave me till I go to my Grave: But those things that should cheer me, I have not: for they must shortly leave me, or I them; when Corruption shall be my Mother, and Worms my Brethren and Sisters. Thus hath my life been as a Tale that is told: Sphinxes' riddle is now made good in me: my second childhood records mine aged infancy. My age h'as made time change my Tense; I WAS, and that is all can be said of me.   

His Pleasures.  
MEMORIAL VII.  
SOme will think it strange, that Age should be a forerunner to Pleasure; and will dislike me for ranking them in this manner. But if they knew my aim, they would quickly rectify their censure, and approve of mine order. For I do not here treat of Pleasure, as a subject fore Age, to delight in: for rare were that delight (unless it receive life from above) that could suit well with it. No; my meaning is to take a Survey (not without tears) of all those Pleasures which my vain youth affected; with those which my riper age frequented: with these which my declining time (these few and evil days of mine) have pursued. And in the review of these, I find those Pleasures of my youth, full of vanity; yet not enthralling me to so much misery, as those of my riper growth; nor those so dangerous, as these of mine age. Every time brought with it a new tide. In the first prime of my youth; I made choice of such delights as sorted best with my fancy; wherein I showed such agility, as few in the exercise of them surpassed me. But in these I found much vanity: for they either wearied me, or they were weary of me. The beasts of the field became my prey; while I became a prey to those beasts within. In these an easy Ambition took me; contending with those who were given to like sports, for the mastery. This, I must confess, was neither greatly harmful nor useful. Those poor Creatures which I had in chase abroad, could have done me little harm; had not my passions wrought me disquiet at home. Which, though they assailed and assaulted me, yet did they not wholly surprise me. And yet did I many things, which beget in me now a glowing shame. My youth was not so well seasoned, as to use pleasure as it should be used. I was too hot in the quest and pursuit of it, to show any discretion in the exercise of it. And too strongly was I fixed on those poor Objects, wherewith my unstayed eyes were fed, to make use of what mine eyes beheld, for mine inward good. But long did I not bestow myself on these: for when I came to more years, I abandoned those pleasures I pursued at first; I betook me to those that seemed more manly; but I found by bitter experience, that they only seemed so: for these are they who now sting me like Adders, and afflict my troubled soul with a thousand terrors. For in those times I well remember, with what security I used to sit in my Summer-Arbour. How my thoughts were only laid to satisfy my loose desires. Let us take our fill of pleasure; thus I talked with my wand'ring senses. And quickly opened they their windows to let sin in; but no passage found I by them to let sin out. They cried with the Horseleech, more, more. I found them as insatiable as Hell, or the Grave. Yea, when strength of nature failed, and the powers of sin became weakened, my wanton Will supplied, wherinsoever my ability wanted. Thus in my strength, was I led away captive; nor could I redeem my liberty for many years. This caused me many times in the chamber of my heart to peruse the story of Samson: who, when he was strongest, showed himself weakest, in disclosing his strength to a Dalilah. And this, me thought, came near me; I could never read it, but I was stinged with it. For at that time was I in my full strength; and conceivingst state. I had improved my helps by discourse, and behaviour of myself, by reading books and men. In the one I read what should be done; in the other, I beheld whatsoever was either praiseworthy, or otherwise done. None could disguise himself from the world more; or seemingly impeach his honour less. But what was the issue of all this? A double sin could receive no less than a double scourge. Halt with man, I might; with God, I could not. The longer he deferred; the more he inferred. In that sin, wherein any one is most delighted; shall he be punished. Sweet meat must have sour sauce. I considered (but too short time did those thoughts lodge with me) that these pleasures were but for a moment, but no less space than Eternity ended the torment. I considered too, how that Eternity depended on this Moment. Yet, for all this did I enlarge mine heart unto pleasures. The day seemed long, wherein I did not enjoy them: the night long, wherein I thought not of them. I knew what sin it was to solicit a Maid unto lightness; or to be drunken with wine, wherein was excess: or to suffer mine heart to be oppressed with surfeiting and drunkenness: yet, for all this, run I on still in mine evil ways; and so continued till my evil days came upon me; which fitted themselves for pleasures too, but of another degree, and in an higher strain of vanity.  
Alas, poor decrepit age! what pleasure can the whole world find for such a Cripple? Thine eyes are too dim to discern beauty; thy lame legs can find no feet, to walk to the house of the strange woman. Thy May-flowers no sooner withered, than thy May-games ended. Useless years, Hawthorne hairs, fruitless cares stick close to thee; all things else (saving only these constant companions, the infirmities of age) have long since left thee. The least distemper begets in thee a surfeit. Young men, when they see thee merry, laugh at thee; because thy mirth so ill becomes thee. Old men wag their heads at thee, seeing thee do what so ill-beseems thee. Thou hast had already enough of the pleasures of sin: let the younger brood now enjoy what thou hast tasted. And yet this must not be. That man were too too old, for whom the world could not find one pleasure to fit his age. This to my grief, I found in myself. Old sores are ever hardest to be cured; and vices in old age most desperate. Hear then my distemper; and to cure it, afford me your prayers and tears to my Saviour. The less I need, the more needful am I in my desires. I have more than a competence to maintain me during this short remainder of my pilgrimage, lent me. And yet this will not serve my turn: my mouth is half filled with gravel; and yet are not my desires filled with what they enjoy. And though my very nails might serve for a spade to dig my grave; they had rather be moulded and be rusted with telling of coin. Though I can scarcely see it when I account it: this sufficeth me, without hope of enjoying to hoard it. My whole Library is brought into one volume: & that penned with no great art. My cashkeeper looks to it, and I to him, lest he corrupt it. This vast volume bears this title, Creditor and Debtor. But for my Debts, I owe few; save only to Him, to whom I owe myself. Mean time, I am so far from discharging it, as I scarcely vouchsafe to acknowledge it.  
O lessen in me these unhappy cares; that it may be henceforth my whole care, to apply to this old sore a speedy cure. Let me not only speak it, but think it: Vanity of vanities, and all is but vanity, save only to please God, and to serve him.   

His Labours.  
MEMORIAL VIII.  
MY breeding was such, as it never acquainted me with any Hand-labour. Neither was my constitution so strong as to endure it: nor my disposition so low as to brook it. Free-bred were my Studies: so as, Lapwing-like, with shell on head, I begun to write, before my years could well make me an Author. But hence my tears! The Subjects I made choice of, were of Love; to close with my fancy, which was very light. I was proud in bearing the title of a Writer; which, I must confess, together with the instancy of such as either truly applauded me, or deluded me, made me ambitious after the name of an Author. And what were those light Poems I then penned; but such as are now pensive Odes to my dolorous soul, grieving to peruse what my youth so dear loved? O how familiar was I with Parnassus, Helicon, Hippocrene, and all the Muses! Mean time, I seldom or never thought of that heavenly Olympus, which crowns all virtuous Labours with true happiness. It was the saying of an holy Father; 
Aug. Med. 4.  Those studies which I once loved, now condemn me; those which I sometimes praised, now disparage me. Far more cause have I to say, how, Those Labours which I once fancied, now afflict me: those which sometimes delighted me, now perplex me. I am many times in company, where I hear some of my youthful verses repeated: and though I do neither own them, nor praise them: yet must I in another place answer for them, if he, on whom I depend, shall not in these tears which I shed, drown the memory of them. For alas! how many chaste ears have I offended; how many light ears have I corrupted with those unhappy works which I have published? What wanton measures have I writ for the nonced, to move a light Courtesan to hug my conceit; and next her Venus and Adonis, or some other immodest toy, to lodge me in her bosom? Light stuff, to be entertained in so flourishing a state! O how the reremembrance of these do grieve me! When that Talon, which might have been employed to God's glory; became a Forge of lightness and vanity! O how much better had it been for me to bury it, than to use it to his dishonour, who gave me it! Was this the trial of wits, to make choice of no other Theme, than what corrupts best wits? Was Learning made to no other end, than to make lines, so many lures; to take a mod●st eye; or work on an easy mind; or to lead a poor deluded Soul to Hell? Was wit given to be exercised in wantonness; or to prostitute itself, only to please itself, with lightness? Unhappy Wit, that is so employed! Ill-govened Learning, that is so bestowed ● We cry out of the Devil (and good cause have we to do so) for tempting our Grandam Eve, and deceiving her with his subtlety; tell me then, what age, sex or degree may not justly cry out of such as me, who have tempted our Grandams children so often with our ribaldry? Well might that devout Father call Poetry, the Devil's Wine; to make men and women drunk with their profaneness; abuse them with their lightness: But woe is me! it was not all kinds of Poetry that he condemned. For what sweet and heavenly wits have been employed in Poesy? What devout tears have their divine works begot? What holy motions, heavenly fancies have these bred? Poesy then is a divine influence; and the choice of the Subject makes the difference. This I speak not in defence of myself, but in defence of it which I have so much abused. For many sweet Poems have I read, which could not choose but beget in an attentive Reader many good thoughts: and whose Inventions, whether they were couched in prose or verse, deserrved of all clear judgements, their applause; and these live to posterity; because they enlivened virtue: & set up such a Light upon the Altar of devotion, as shall never go out. But these I followed not. Let my tears therefore be many; because the fruits which others reaped by my Labours, were but few. Neither was I only versed in these. For being put on by my Superiors, at whose dispose I was, I addressed my pen to Labours Historical, Moral and Divine. Neither was I in these less blame-worthy: for even Those, wherein I should only have aimed at God's glory, had ever in them some sprinklings of vainglory: Nay, what was more; (for enough I cannot speak to my own shame;) Those Cardinal virtues whereof I treated; and which to the imitation of others I commended; found ever the worst example in myself. Which could not choose but redound to my great dishonour; to see me the least observer of that, which I commended to another. Likewise, those Theological virtues, which in those my Diviner Works, I so highly honoured; with those seven Beatitudes, the practice whereof I so much pressed; where found they my imitation in them, to confirm my admiration of them? Now tell me, was this all that might be required of me? Was it sufficient for me to commend to others, what I meant not to amend in myself? Was this the duty of an Author? Whether be our lives to be shown in our pens, or our pens in our lives? Truth is, for one Active man, we have ●en Contemplative. Amongst which, none ever professed more, and expressed less, than myself. I could sometimes say, and confirm it with a vow; That I could never dictate with tongue, nor relate with pen, what I conceived not first in heart. But none could find this in me, that did read me; or by conversing with me, found me. So as, withdrawing myself a little aside from ●he world, and considering my own fearful estate, whom even ripeness of time, calls out of the world: I go on many times in this Appeal to myself. Look, I pray thee, look, a little on thyself: and let no strange eye see thee, nor ear hear thee, nor tongue judge thee but thyself. What hast thou writ; or of what hast thou writ? Of love; of Love! but didst thou not corrupt that style, and make it Lust? Yes; heavens know, thou didst. Again, didst thou choose a better subject? how didst thou handle it? well enough in thy line; but too too ill in thy Life. O then, let it be thy Labour, in this thy small remainder, to beg forgiveness of Him, whom thou didst so much dishonour: and if ever there be spent by thee more Lampe-light on those Studies, let Him only have the praise, who rewards ●●ery faithful Labourer in the Evening, and gives to his Labour success.   

His Life.  
MEMORIAL IX.  
LIfe is a Race, or progress to Death. The House I sojourn in, a Tent or Tabernacle. The People I converse and consort with, as I am, and all our Fathers before us, Pilgrims. Every day h'as his date; yesterday was nor as to day, nor to day as to morrow. Two things there are, which makes me ever to wonder, the more I think of them. The one is, to hear a Stranger (as we are all) to breathe out so many longing wishes, languishing desires: O that I were at home! O that I were in mine own Country! And what home is this he means? Is it his own home? his own native Country? No; It is his earthly Tabernacle. Perchance he liveth (if a Pilgrimage may be properly called a Living) far in the North, and upon occasion he is called up to the South; O how tedious are his hours till he return! yet was he as near his Country, before as now. The Latter is, to see a poor way-faring man (as we are all) when he is in his journey, and wearied with Travail, overload himself, as if he purposely meant to foreslow his speed to his Country: Or set himself on building in the way, as if he had quite forgot the place whereto he was to go. This I am sure, is my estate. Albeit, I have found even in those who would have highly rejoiced in enjoying that light which I am called to; and no doubt, would have made far better use of it, than I do; excellent resolves touching their contempt of earth: although their understandings were so darkened, as their misguided thoughts could mount no higher. These could conclude; Wheresoever we be, we are in our Country, and our Country with us, so it be well with us. But well it cannot be with us, so long as Passions of the mind disquiet us within, and Infirmities enfeeble us without. I hear some call this Life a Prison; but yet these who call it so, live not like Prisoners. Delights and Delicacies become not Fotters. Nay, if we truly held it a prison; we would desire our liberty: but we either know not, or acknowledge not our misery. Others can call it a Banishment; others a Punishment; others a Death. But if a Banishment, why wish we not to be restored? if a Punishment, why seek we not to be released? And if a Death, why sleep we in it, and desire not to be raised? No; no; these are but words in the air. Like such as commend Abstinence, in their Surfeits; or discourse of Mortification in their Cups. Not one of these, who compare themselves to prisoners, would be, if they might be, freed; Nor one of these Exiles, enfranchised; Nor one of these who hold themselves thus punished, delivered; nor one of these who hold themselves Dead-alive, revived. This I am sure, is my case: Though I find all things in the World to be nothing but Vanity; and of those, Man the greatest Vanity; and of all men, myself th●●●●lest of Vanity. For I have rejoiced all my days, in a thing of nought. And I thought still in mine heart to put far away the evil day, by approaching to the Seat of iniquity: but I found that the eyes of the Almighty were upon me, and that I groped but in Darkness, to wound myself. Wretched man! How long have I been in a miserable state, and knew it not? How long have I been a Stranger to my Father's house, and returned not? I have read it, Dear Lord, in thy Book; and I have found it by experience in that public Register of man's mortality: how this Life is truly compared to a Course, to a Roast; and what swifter? To a Weavers shuttle; and what ●●icker? To a Tale that is told; what shorter? To a Shadow; what sooner vanishing? To Grass; what sooner withering? To the Tracke of a Ship; what less appearing? To the Flight of a Bird; what more speedily gliding? Yet for all this have I loaded myself with thick clay; as if I were too fleet in my course to heaven, and needed trashing. But would you know in what places, I have been most versed; and with what persons, most conversed? I shall render you a just Account; mean time, what Account I shall make for my misspent hours, heaven knows.  
After such time, as my Parents had brought me up at School; to get me an inheritance in that, wherewith no earthly providence could endow me; I was sent to the University; where (still with an humble acknowledgement of others favours and seasonable endeavours) I became such a Proficient, as Time called me, and Examination approved me for a Graduate. And in these Studies I continued, till by universal Voice and vote, I was put upon a Task, whose Style I have, and shall ever retain, the Son of Earth; Terrae Filius. From the performance of which exercise, whether it were the extraordinary favour which the University pleased to grace me withal, or that she found some tokens in me of such future proficience as might answer the hopes of so tender a Mother, I know not: but, sure I am, I received no small encouragement both in my studies and free tender of ample preferment. And too apt was I, to apply this the worse way. For this extraordinary grace begot in me a self-conceit of my own worth: ever thinking, that if this had not proceeded from some more deserving parts in me: that rich Seminary of all Learning would not have shown so graceful a Countenance towards me. Notwithstanding, I laboured by that Grace which was given me, to suppress this Opinion in me; and humbly to acknowledge my wants and weakness in all; my ability in nothing. But applause is a dangerous Earring: which I found by giving too easy ear to my own praise; which, as it deluded my judgement, so it exposed me to censure. True, too true I found it, that in the sight of our own Parts, we need no borrowed lights. This it was, and only this that induced me to put myself forward in Public Exercises with much confidence: wherein (such happiness it is to be possessed of opinion) I seldom or never came off with disgrace.  
Having for sundry years together thus remained in the bounteous bosom of this my Nursing-Mother; all ●hich time, in the freedom of those Studies, I reaped no less private comfort, than I received from others encouragement; I resolved to set my rest upon this, to bestow the most of my time in that place, if it stood with my Parents liking. But soon was I crossed by them in these resolves: being enjoined by them to turn the course of my Studies from those sweet Academic Exercises, wherein I tasted such infinite content: and to betake myself to a profession, which I must confess suited not well with my disposition: for the fresh fragrant flowers of Divine Poesy and Moral Philosophy could not like well to be removed, nor transported to those thorny places and plashes of the Law. But no remedy; with an unwilling farewell I took my leave of Philosophy; to address my Studies to that Knowledge, which at first seemed so far different from my element; as if I had been now to be moulded to some new Dialect; for though I was known to most tongues, I became a mere Novice in this. Here I long remained, but lightly profited: being there seated, where I studied more for acquaintance than knowledge. Nor was I the only one (though a principal one) who run deeply in areeres with time; and gulled the eyes of opinion with a Law-gowne. For I found many in my case, who could not recompense their Parents many years charge with one Book-case.  
Yet amidst these dis-relishing studies, whereto I was rather enforced than inclined: I bestowed much precious time (better spent then in Taverns and Brothels) in reviving in me the long-languishing spirit of Poetry, with other Moral Assays; which so highly delighted me, as they kept me from affecting that loose kind of liberty, which through fullness of means, and licentiousness of the age, I saw so much followed and eagerly pursued by many. This moved me sometimes to fit my buskined Muse for the Stage; with other occasional Presentments or Poems; which being freeborn, and not mercenary, received graceful acceptance of all such as understood my rank and quality. For so happily had I crept into Opinion (but weak is that Happiness that is grounded on Opinion) by closing so well with the temper and humour of the time, as nothing was either presented by me (at the instancy of the noblest and most generous wits and spirits of that time) to the Stage; or committed by me to the Press; which passed not with good approvement in the estimate of the world. Neither did I use these private Solaces of my pen, otherwise than as a play only to the imagination: rather to allay and season more serious studies; than accounted them any fixed employment. Nor did I only bestow my time on these; for I addressed myself to Subjects of stronger digestion; being such as required more maturity of judgement, though less pregnancy of invention: relishing more of the Lamp, than those Lighter measures which I had formerly penned: wherein I grew as strong in the opinion and reputation of others as before. This I must confess, begot in me a glowing heat and conceit of myself: but this I held an easy error, and the more dispensable, because arising from the infirmity of nature. Howsoever, I can very well remember (and what other Followers can be to such a Remembrancer but penitent tears and incessant fears) that I held it in those days an incomparable grace to be styled one of the Wits. Where, if at any time invited to a public feast, or some other meeting of the Muses, we hated nothing more than losing time; reserving ever some Select hours of that Solemnity, to make proof of our conceits in a present provision of Epigrams, Anagrams, with other expressive (and many times offensive) fancies.  
But Wits so ill employed, were like weapons put into mad men's hands. They hurt much, benefitted little: distating more than they pleased; for they liked only such men's palates, as were Malcontents, and Critically affected. By this time I had got an eye in the world; and a finger in the street. There goes an Author! One of the Wits! Which could not choose, but make me look big, as if I had been casten in a new mould. O how in privacy, when nothing but the close Evening, and dark walls accompany me, doth the remembrance of these lightest vanities perplex me! How gladly would I shun the memory of them! How willingly forgo that sweetness which many conceive to be in them! But let me go on; for I am yet but entering that high bet-path of my younger follies. Having thus, for diverse years together, continued at Inns of Court; where that opinion the world had of my Works, gained me more friends; than the opinion men had of my Law, got me fees. For such as affected Scenes more than Suits were my Clients. I thought with myself to take a turn or two in Paul's; and to peruse a whol● Gazetta in one walk. This I conceived might improve me; first, by endearing and ingratiating myself with that Society: which, I must confess, were richly endowed with two excellent parts, Invention, and Memory. Secondly, by screwing some Subject from their Relations, which might set my pen a work upon occasion.  
But I found not there what I expected, which made me leave that walk, and turn Peripatetic; a civil Exchange-man; where in short time I got acquaintance of the best; being such gentle Merchants, as their wealth could not so darken their worth, but they would willingly enter lists in a combat of wit. These, I grant, took great felicity in my company: nor did it repent me of bestowing some hours with these: whose discourse of foreign News strengthened by such able Intelligence, did infinitely please. And these, without so much as the least loss to themselves (I may safely vow) would not stick upon occasion to accommodate me: which winged my desires for the Court; the better to accomplish me. Where I found graceful acceptance with choicest acquaintance. But Cynthia could not be still in her full orb. I begun to withdraw my thoughts from the pursuit of these, and recount with myself what I had seen: store of wealth in the one, and a beseeming state in the other. Yet for all this I found my self but a Planet in both. Fixed I could not be, till some constant Calling admitted me. I resolved then, seeing I found nothing either in Court or City, but cares: Cares in the one, of getting to hoard and gather; cares in the other, of getting to spend and scatter: in the one, more rind than pith; in the other, more pith than rind. This partaking more of Compliment, that of Substance: yet a natural strain of Insinuation in both: but their Objects different. The one making a cringe for fashion; the other for gain. While the former makes his vows too familiar with his protests, to be believed; the other sees too deep a gloss of his commodities, with shopoaths to be liked. The one, with a low dook of your Servants Servant, proclaims him the Servant of time, and no one's servant. This I wholly disliked, for I found the title of Servant otherwise applied by that Divine Vessel of Election, that devout Sanctuary of Sanctification, that pure Mirror of Supreme Contemplation. His title was, as it was likewise of others of his Fellow-Labourers: Paul a servant of jesus Christ; james a servant of jesus Christ; jude a servant of jesus Christ. With this Compliment These began their Epistles: A Saintlike Preamble! an heavenly Courtship! Such as all Christians are to imitate.  
The other, with his subtle weights and measures (reserving ever my best thoughts for the best) made me suspect him, that he sold his commodities by retail, and his conscience by whole sale. Upon review of these, (I say) I resolved to leave those Cinnamon Trees of the Court with their sweet rinds; and those Palmatoes of the City with their broad shades: and to turn honest Countryman: where my Parent's providence had settled a competent estate upon me. Here I looked to find nothing but plain dealing; where I found in very deed, nothing less. For upon a more serious perusal of that life, with the benefits that rose from it, and conditions of those who were borne and bred in it; I found a cunning Colt wrapped up in a russet coat. Men as apt to catch, as if they had been hatched in the Harpies nest. Such as would not stick to hazard their part and portion in the Tabernacle for a simoniacal Contract. And still I went on to dive into the quality of those Islanders. Where I found some pining through want, others repining at their neighbour's wealth, few or none content with their estate: yet none so poor in estate, as he would not, though he spared it from his belly, have a fee in store to maintain a suit. Long I had not remained in this fashion, till it pleased the Prince to put me in Commission for administration of justice: a virtue, and a choice one too, yet such an one, as by the abuse of man, not of time, may be compared to the Celedony stone, which retaineth her virtue no longer than it is rubbed with gold. For my carriage therein, I appeal to such as knew me: many imperfections and failings (Heaven knows) accompanied me, which by an humble acknowledgement of mine own wants, & an earnest desire of supply by God's grace, became so rectified in me; as what before seemed crooked, was by that golden Rule of his divine Will in me straightened.  
Thus have I passed my days; traced many ways; where the longer I lived, the more I sinned; which caused me to wash my couch with tears, and to remember the follies of my Youth, Manhood, and Age, with anguish of heart. O how much it now grieves me, to have grieved so much at the sight or thought of grey hairs; and to have grieved so little at the thought or sight of my sins! May it then be my care to call for grace, lest I bring my grey hairs with lasting sorrow to thei● grave. O may the remainder of my days teach me to number my days, that I may go to him, and live with him, who is the length of days!   

His Death.  
MEMORIAL X.  
WElcome, thou unwelcommest to man, because I have in part pu● off man, through his grace by whom I am; and who for me became man, to free me from the curse of the Law, due to man. O Death, how terrible hadst thou been unto me, if he who died for me, had not conquered thee! And yet many things present themselves before me, which highly perplex me. Sins, nothing but sins muster themselves before me, to affright me. Yea, sins which I never thought of till now, appear foul and ugly unto me. But I know my Redeemer liveth, and that with these eyes I shall see him. Though the Furies of Sin and Satan enter their pleas against me; though my secret Sins tell me that I am the child of disobedience, that I have justly incurred Gods heavy wrath and displeasure; and that my strange sins have deservedly made me a Stranger and Alien to the house of my Father. Though my whole course hath been a continued curse, by transgressing his Law, who satisfied the Law for me: Though I have made every Creature mine Enemy, by offending that heavenly Maker, who made them and me: Though I find no good thing in me; not one Witness within me, to speak for me; Not one day, nay not one hour of my life without Sin to accuse me; Not one poor work of Charity so pure, and without Vainglory, as to plead for me; Not one Friend, amongst all those many, who professed themselves mine, to appear for me. Yet have I One, who he's vanquished Death, Sin, and Satan. One, who will Cure my Wounds, because I have opened them; and Cover my Sins, because I have discovered them. One, who will bring me home to my Father's house, bring forth his best robe to adorn me, put a ring on mine hand to enrich me, and bring me to his Great marriage Feast, which shall for ever refresh me. One, who will turn his Curse into a Blessing; and with the sight of his Dearest Self satisfy my longing. One, who as he made his Angels, Ministers for me on Earth; will make them my Companions in Heaven. One, who though he could see no good thing in me, will of his own free goodness supply me. One, who will send his holy Spirit to witness for me: and will show to his Father those Prints of his Love, those Scars of his Wounds to speak for me. One, who will evince the testimony of Sin, so as though it accuse me, it shall never impeach me. One, who is all charity, and with the eyes of mercy will look on my misery; and in this hour of my necessity will plead for me. One, who when all my friends shall leave me, will cleave near me: and at the hour of my death will so defend me, that mine Enemy may have no power over me.  
Yet for all this; old Acquaintance cannot be so easily parted; I feel a trembling in my flesh: it is death to her to be divided from her Soul. Therefore she desires still to be a Cottage, (though a crazy one) for the entertainment of such a Guest. And though every puss, every blast threaten her fall; yet hopes she with a little repairing to hold out still. Foolish flesh! if thou lov'st that Guest, as thou professest, why dost thou lodge her under such rotten tarrases? For whilst thou keep'st her in that crazy Cottage, thou hold'st her from a princely Palace. 'Las! she came to thee, not to be a Dweller, but a Sojourner. Give her leave then to go home again: for in a strange Land is she, while she lodges with thee. O; but I hear thee answer: This Stranger (if you please to style him so) is as loath to part with me, as I with her. Is it so, poor Soul, hast thou wallowed so long in mire; or encamped so long in these shades or shrouds of clay; as thou beginnest to be enamoured of them, and never remove from them? Is it so, that thou hast been such a long stranger in thy own Country, as thou hast quite forgot it, or carest not much if thou never see it? H'as the life of a Soldier so taken thee; or the straying liberty of a Pilgrim so seized upon thee, as thou preferrest a wand'ring life, before a settled being in thy Country? Woe is me for thee! But, pray thee tell me, what is it that hath so wooed and won thee from thy first Love? O I hear thee; or that false Idumite which holds thee, cry out: O; must I leave my Friends, Honours, Pleasures and Possessions? Yes; thou must leave and lose all: Thy Friends and Honours may, perchance, accompany thee to ●hy Grave; but there they will leave thee: and for thy Pleasures and Possessions, they will not do thee that gra●e, to attend thee to thy grave, ●●r before thou come there, ●hey have vowed to leave thee. These are strong stayes●o ●o depend on! fair props to rely on! firm foundations to build on! I see then, (Languishing Soul) what it is that holds thee. Thou either grievest to lose what thou here lovest: or fears to feel there what thou for thy sin deservest. O my Soul, by this may any one gather, that thou hast been a constant worldling! For if thou hadst possessed the things of this life without loving of them; thou wouldst easily lose them without grieving for them: Seeing, whatsoever without love we enjoy, without grief we forgo. But stay a little! stay a very little! and with patience hear me. Be not, O be not so fast glued to Earth, that thy thoughts become loosened from Heaven! I know well, it is thy Flesh, which thus disquiets thee. It is she who suggesteth these things to thee. Wrestle then with her, and give her the foil; it is better that she fail, than thou fall. Tell her; oh tell her: For this will charm her. Those worldly Friends, on whom she so much relies; can neither deliver themselves nor her from Death. They may profess much; and vow to intercede for her to any Prince or Potentate breathing, while she is living flesh: but dying, they will leave her for a prey to her Brothers and Sisters. And all their friendly tears will be then dried up. Sorrow takes quickly a Surfeit in the Funeral of her dearest Friend. His poor corpse is with earth no sooner covered, than their Time-love becomes discovered. These be the shadows, wherewith our Flesh-flies are deluded. They may remember us sometimes while we live on earth, but they soon forget us when we are laid in earth. Ask her then; will she be stayed by these friends, of which Time makes shadows, or injury professed foes? Secondly, if Friends have not in them such firm dependence, as to promise any assurance: hopes she from Honours to receive any sure footing or continuance? No; tell her, these are of all temporary blessings most various and dangerous. Various, in respect of the Object from whence she receives them, being man: and consequently, apt enough upon the least occasion, to change his mind. And dangerous, in respect of those corrivals and privy underminers, whose highest task it is to bring these Favourites into disgrace. O how happy had many been, had they never known what Honour meant! For as it encumbered them living, so it distracted them dying: exposing them to many dangers both living and dying. Ask her then; will she be stayed by these Honours, which can neither privilege her from death, nor comfort her at the hour of death, nor secure her after death? Thirdly, if she be thus forsaken of all her Honours, what can she expect from Pleasures? La●! These long since left her, when Age seized on her: and thrice happy she, had she left them, before they left her. If there be pleasure in cramps and aches: her weak decrepit limbs retain stil● a memory of them. These she he's constantly to attend her; nor vow they to leave her, till the cold Earth receive her. For now those Ivory-beds, Carpets and Laces, are but as so many racks and tortures to her, when she remembers them. All these have left her in pain: and if she taste pleasure in that, may she long enjoy it. But though those more active pleasures have wholly left her: she sees her Buildings, and to leave them, and to whom she knows not, it deeply grieves her. Those pleasant walks, which with the helps both of Art and Nature she so carefully contrived; those shady delightful Arbours, wherein she so retiredly and contentedly reposed; Those silent Groves, crystal Springs, dainty Refectories, wherein she so delightfully sported, bathed & banqueted: must she lose all these; and for a cover of mouldered earth, wherein all her beauty lies buried? It must be so; there is no remedy; the cold earth must receive her perished beauty. Nor should the loss of all these grieve her; seeing these were so confined to time, as they could promise no constancy to her. Yea; they deserved rather to be loathed than loved; seeing the Sight of them too often estranged her thoughts from Him that made them. Ask her then, where be all those who sometimes enjoyed these pleasures to the full! Where those Objects, wherein they delighted? Look! Read! Their Memories are as Letters written in dust. Their glorious Buildings have lost the Names of their founders. They sleep in their earth: but that Account sleepeth not, which they mnst render for their vanities on earth.  
Fourthly, seeing her forepast pleasures have wholly left her; but the bitter remembrance of the abuse of them stays with her: the sweetness of the one being spent: but the bitterness of the other left: what content may she find in her Possessions; the Worldlings Minions? Alas, nothing! these are ta'en from her, and bestowed on another. She is now to goes to her long home; and another is to possess her dwellings. Though here, she held passing of time a mere pastime; and a large possession the Sole Solace of a Worldling; now she finds enough of Earth in a very small portion of it. No matter now whether her Granars be enlarged; her Revenues increased; her Treasures slored. These be none of hers; The very Wind h'as as great a share in them as she he's. Nor did they deserve so much loving, when they were in their very height of enjoying. Being such as were got with Care, kept with Fear, and lost with Grief: proper things to dote on! The fullness of them could not stay, one poor Fit of an Ague: nor get a reprieve at Death's hand for a minute. Besides, that long unwilling Adieu of the unhappy possessor at his heavy departure: O Death, how bitter is the remembrance of thee to a man that liveth at rest in his possessions!  
Seeing then, no outward thing should so much delight man, as to withdraw his thoughts from the Maker of man: Or so trouble him in his passage or translation from Earth, as to divert his affections from heaven in his remove from Earth. Seeing, all things are not only vanity, but affliction: where such as are highliest possessed of them, are most ensnared and deluded by them: Seeing, the beauty, riches, pleasures, and contentments of earth, are no sooner appearing than vanishing: no sooner found than lost. Why dost thou tremble, O my flesh! why are thou so troubled, O my Soul, and why art thou so disquieted within me! put thy trust in the Lord, and he will deliver thee. Yea, but I hear thee, in a silent secrecy, framing this reply! These worldly respects are not the things that make Death appear so terrible unto me. No; I can freely bid farewell to the world; there is nothing in it, that makes me enamoured of it. I see nought at all in it, but sin, or occasions of sin: Neither did I ever possess aught, which did not afflict me more in the foregoing, than it delighted me in the enjoying. Tell me then (poor fearful soul) what is it that so much troubles thee in this thy passage? What is it that makes thee so shake and shudder in this thy dissolution? O my sins! my sins! it is the remembrance of my sins, which makes me unwilling to depart from this place where I committed them: or to fix mine eyes on that place, which is so pure as it cannot abide them. I cannot think of that place wherein I have not sinned; nor of that hour wherein I have not highly transgressed. And can one minutes repentance discharge such long arrearages? O my perplexed soul, remember to thy comfort that divine Cordial: At what time soever a Sinner repenteth, etc. As I live, I would not the death of a sinner, etc. My mercy I will not take from him: There is mercy with the Lord, and therefore is he feared. He shall call upon me, and I will dedeliver him in the time of his necessity. Draw yet nearer, and think of the saying of that sweet Father: 
S. Bern.  O humble tear, thine is the Kingdom, thine is the Power: thou art not afraid to enter in and appear before the presence of the Judge: thou, though thou enter alone, shalt never return alone: whatsoever thou askest, thou shalt have; thou overcommest the invincible, and bindest the Omnipotent. This Angelical Wine will bring thee to the society of the Angels. Doubt not; stagger not. Raise and rouse up thyself with the wings of faith. Whence comes it, that the Soul dyeth? because Faith is not in it. Whence that the body dyeth? Because a Soul is not in it. Therefore the Soul of thy Soul is Faith. No evil then can befall thee, so thy faith do not fail thee. Where watery eyes make faith their Anchor, they promise a calm Sea, and a safe arrival to the Christian passenger. And though late repentance be seldom true, yet true repentance never comes too late. That devout and well-prepared Father, when he was ready to die; with much sweet assurance, and Christian confidence, spoke thus to Stillico and others about his bed; 
S. Ambrose.  I have not lived so among you, that I am ashamed to live longer to please God: and yet again, I am not afraid to dye, because we have a good LORD. Though thou canst not in thine own approvement so truly say this; crown thy passage with a devout wish; Desire to be dissolved, and to be with Christ; Present him with a pious devotion to thy inward'st thoughts: Imagining him even now bowing his precious head to kiss thee; spreading his gracious arms to embrace thee: his Angels coming forth to meet thee; the whole Host of Heaven to conduct thee to the Palace of Eternity, after this thy approaching dissolution from this vale of misery. Let nothing divide thee from that love which is in thee to Christ jesus. One Hour in his Courts is better than a thousand in the Courts of Princes. Humbly commend thyself to his protection who made thee; to his affection, who redeemed thee; to his direction, who sanctified thee. Fear it not, timorous soul, but thy Father's power will defend thee; his Son's Wisdom will enrich thee; the Holy Spirits goodness will comfort thee: even in these pangs of death which assail thee.  
Oh how sweet is the remembrance of these things to me! There is nothing now that may divide me from Him, to whom I am spiritually espoused. There is no Friend so dear to me, as He who gave his life for me. No Honour so highly valued of me, as his, who became a reproach for me, that by his own dishonour he might honour me. No pleasure so delightful as his presence, whose sight shall ever cheer me. No possession like his fruition, who is my portion in the Land of the Living; to whom to be joined shall ever joy me. Every minute than seems grievous, every moment tedious, till I be dissolved; that I may see him after whom I have so longed; to whom to be united, I have so thirsted; in whose sweet presence to remain, in whose Courts to abide, I have so desired. These pangs I feel, are to me cheerful; these Messengers of my approaching dissolution, to me grateful; these humane wrestlings, which I now endure, to me delightful. I know well, I am such metal as I must be tried before I be fined. O! as I draw by little and little nearer my end; so may I in true love draw nearer to thee. To thee, my Redeemer, in whom my trust is placed; my confidence planted; my hopes crowned; my Pilgrim-dayes happily closed; my heritage, after these days of my Pilgrimage possessed. I feel now my longing Soul fleeting from this dark Cell, this noisome shell of corruption; every gasp now promiseth a dissolution. My breath is corrupt: my days are cut off, and the Grave is ready for me. I entered this world with a Shrique, and I leave it with a Sigh. Nor do I sigh for that I love it, or am unwilling to leave it; but for that I have been too long divided by living in it, from Him, in whom my desires are here fixed, there filled: The hour is come, and it is welcome; the hour of my translation to glory. Come LORD JESUS, come quickly. Amen.  
FINIS.    

Erratas.  
PAge 102. line 7. for He, read They. p. 116. l. 8. for this, r. these. p. 151. l. 16. for huger, r. hunger. p. 184. l ult. for glagues, r. plagues. p. 336. in Tit. for DEAHTS, r. DEATHS. p. 339. l. 21. for divine, r. dim. p. 395. l. 13. fore fore, r. for.  
REqui●e the Author's pains with thy pen, in correcting these literal errors: and remember him in thy private prayers, who will render the like to thee in his Christian vows and tears.   

Both Hand and Heart are jointly given,  
My Hand subscribes, My Heart's for Heaven.   


A SPIRITUAL SPICERY Containing Sundry Sweet Tractats of Devotion & Piety. ●●ndon. Printed by I. H. for Goo● Huton▪ at 〈◊〉 in Hol●●