POETICAL FRAGMENTS: Heart-Imployment WITH GOD and ITSELF.  
THE Concordant Discord of a Broken-healed Heart. Sorrowing-rejoycing, fearing-hoping, dying-living Written Partly for himself, and partly for near Friends in Sickness, and other deep Affliction.  
By RICHARD BAXTER.  Ephes. 5. 19 
Speaking to yourselves in Psalms and Hymns, and Spiritual Songs, singing and making Melody in your hearts to the Lord.  2 Corinth. 5. 4. 
For we that are in this Tabernacle do GROAN, being burdened.  
Laeta ferè laetus cecini: Canon tristia tristis.  
Published for the use of the Afflicted.  
LONDON, Printed by T. Snowden for B. Simmons at the a Golden Cocks at the West end of St. Paul's. 1681.   

THE EPISTLE TO THE READER.  
Reader,  
THese Poetical Fragments, (except Three heretofore Printed) were so far from being intended for the Press, that they were not allowed the sight of many Private Friends, nor thought worthy of it: Only had I had time and heart to have finished the first (which itself according to the Matter and designed Method, would have made a Volume far bigger than all this, being intended as a thankful, Historical Commemoration of all the notable passages of my Life,) I should have published it as the most selfpleasing part of my Writings. But as they were mostly written in various Passions, so Passion hath now thrust them out into the World. God having taken away the Dear Companion of the last Nineteen Years of my Life, as her sorrows and sufferings long ago gave Being to some of these Poems (for reasons which the World is not concerned to know) so my grief for her Removal, and the Revived Sense of former things, have prevailed with me to be passionate in the open sight of all.  
I confess that Passion is oft such a hindrance of Judgement, that a man should be very suspicious of himself till it be laid: But I am assured that God made it not in vain; and that Reason is a sleepy half-useless thing, till some Passion excite it; and Learning to a man asleep is no better for that time than Ignorance. And God usually beginneth the awakening of Reason, and the conversion of Sinners, by the awakening of their useful Passions, their Fear, their Grief, Repentance, Desire, etc. I confess, when God awakeneth in me those Passions which I account rational and holy, I am so far from condemning them, that I think I was half a Fool before, and have small comfort in sleepy Reason. Lay by all the passionate part of Love and Joy, and it will be hard to have any pleasant thoughts of Heaven.  
In short, I am an Adversary to their Philosophy, that vilify Sense, because it is in Brutes, and am past doubt that the noble spirits of Sensitives are debased ignorantly, by pretending Wits, that know not what they say or glory in. And humane Souls are not less sensitive for being rational, but are eminently sensitive: Yea, Reason hath in it more of eminent internal Sensation, than those men think that debase Sense. The Scripture, that saith of God, That he is Life and Light, saith also, That he is Love, and Love is Complacence, and Complacence is Joy; and to say God is Infinite, Essential Love and Joy, is a better notion, than with Cartesians and Cocceians. to say that God and Angels, and Spirits, are but a Thought, or an Idea. What is Heaven to us if there be no Love and Joy?  
I will do my wise Friends, whose Counsel I have much followed, that Right as to acquit them from all the guilt of the Publication of these Fragments. Some of them say, that such Work is below me; and those that I think speak wiselier say, I am below such Work. These I unfeignedly believe. I have long thought, that a Painter, a Musician and a Poet, are contemptible, if they be not Excellent: And that I am not Excellent, I am satisfied: But I am more patient of contempt than many are. Common Painters serve for poor men's work: And a Fiddler may serve at a Country-Wedding: Such cannot aspire to the Attainments of the higher sort: And the Vulgar are the greater number. Dr. Stillingfleet saith, I seldom follow my Friend's Advice: In this I justify him: Though in other things my Advisers contradict him.  
I know that natural temper maketh Poetry savour to several Wise and Learned men, as differently as Meats do to various Appetites. I know such Learned discreet men, that know not what a Tune is, nor can difference one from another. I wonder at them, and oft doubt whether it be an Accident or an Integral of Humanity which they want. Annatus the Jesuit in his Answer to Dr. Twisse De Scientia Media commends his Poetry (for a Poem added in the end) in scorn, as if it were a disgrace to a School Divine. I take one sign of an Acumen of Wit to make it likely that the man hath the same Wit for other work.  
For myself, I confess that Harmony and Melody are the pleasure and elevation of my Soul, and have made a Psalm of Praise in the holy Assembly the chief delightful Exercise of my Religion and my Life; and hath helped to bear down all the Objections which I have heard against Church-music, and against the 149, 150 Psalms. It was not the least comfort that I had in the converse of my late Dear Wife, that our first in the morning, and last in Bed at night was a Psalm of Praise (till the hearing of others interrupted it.) ●et those that savour not Melody, leave others to their different Appetites, and be content to be so far strangers to their delights.  
These Times have produced many Excellent Poets: Among whom for strength of Wit, Dr. Abraham Cooley justly bears the Bell. I much value Mr. Woodford's Paraphrase on the Psalms, though his Genius (or somewhat else) expound some Psalms, so as the next Age will confute. A Woman's Poems, the Lady Katherine Philip's are far above contetmp. But that is bestto me which is most holy.  
I have known good men that were skilled in Music, and much delighted in it, and yet had a conceit that it was unlawful in a Psalm, or holy Exercise: I so much differed from them, that I scarce cared for it any where else; and if it might not be holily used, it should never have been used for me.  
Honest George Withers, though a Rustic Poet, hath been very acceptable as to some for his Prophecies, so to others for his plain Country-honesty: The Vulgar were the more pleased with him for being so little Courtly as to say,  

" If I should have been hung, I knew not how  
" To teach my Body how to cringe and how,   

" And to embrace a fellows, hinder quarters,  
" As if I meant to steal away his Garters.   

" When any bowed to me with Congees trim,  
" All I could do, was stand and laugh at him.   

" Bless me thought I, what will this coxcomb do?  
" When I perceived one reaching at my shoe.   
Quarles yet out went him, mixing competent Wit with Piety (especially in his Poem against Rest on Earth.)  
Silvester on Du Bartas seems to me to out go them both.  
Sir Fulk Grevil, Lord Brook (a man of great note in his Age) hath a Poem lately Printed for Subjects Liberty, which I greatly wonder this Age would bear. There are no Books that have been Printed these twenty Years, that I more wonder at (that ever they were endured) than Richard hooker's eight Books of Ecclesiastic Policy, dedicated by Bishop Gauden to our present King, and vindicated by him; and these Poems of Sir Fulk Grevill Lord Brook. Davie's Nosce Teipsum is an Excellent Poem in opening the nature, Faculties, and certain Immortality of Man's Soul. But I must confess, after all that next the Scripture Poems, there are none so savoury to me, as Mr. George Herbert's, and Mr. George Sandies. I know that Cooly and others far excel Herbert in Wit and accurate composure. But (as Sencca takes with me above all his Contemporaries, because he speaketh Things by words, feeling and seriously, like a man that is pa●● jest, so) Herbert speaks to God like on that really believeth a God, and whose business in the world is most with God Heart-work and Heaven-work make up his Books. And Du Bartas is seriously Divine. And George Sandy's  
Omne tulit punctum, dum miscuit utile dulci.  
His Scripture Poems are an elegant and excellent Paraphrase: But especially his Job, whom he hath restored to the original glory. O that he had turned the Psalms into Metre fitted to the usual Tunes! It did me good when Mrs. Wyatt invited me to see Boxley Abbey in Kent; to see upon the old Stone Wall in the Garden a Summer-house with this inscription in great golden Letters, that In that place Mr. G. Sandys after his Travels over the World, retired himself for his Poetry and Contemplations. And none are fitter to retire to God than such as a retired with seeing all the vanities on Earth.  
Sure there is somewhat of Heaven ●● Holy Poetry. It charmeth Souls into ●oving Harmony and Concord: We ●●we two Brothers in this City, of ●hom one hath written a Book called ● friendly debate, to make those seem ●ious or contemptible who were against his way: It had too much success, and so far destroyed Love and concord, as will not easily be recovered in this age. His Brother (Mr. Pa●ike of the Charter-house) hath with ●●ous skill and seriousness turned into ●new Metre many of David's Psalms; ●●d the advantage for holy affections ●●d harmony, hath so far reconciled ●●e Non-Conformists, that divers of ●●em use his Psalms in their Congre●●tions, though they have the old ●●es, Rouses, Bishop Kings, Mr. Whites, ●●e New England's, Davisons, the Scots●● ●● agreed on by two Nations) in competition with it. But I digress too ●●r.  
All that I have to say for these Fragments is, 1. That being fitted to Women, and vulgar wits, which are the far greatest number, they may be useful to such, though contemptible to those of higher elevation & expectation. 2 And being suited to afflicted, sick, dying, troubled, sad and doubting persons, the number of such is so great in these calamitous times, as may render them useful to more than I desire. 3. And if my present grief may but excuse the Publication, he that needeth them not may let them alone.  
Some of them need an Exposition, which I must not give the world. I have added two or three Printed heretofore, that they may be altogether. The Lord by his merciful providence and his Grace, tune up our dull and drooping Souls to such joyful praises, as may prepare us for his everlasting praise in Heaven.  
Amen.  
London, At the Door of Eternity. Aug. 7. 1681. Rich. Baxter   

LOVE Breathing THANKS and PRAISE.  

The First Part.  

ETernal God, this Worm lifts up the head,  
And looks to Thee, by Thee encouraged.  
Cheered by thy Bounty, it would speak thy praise,  
Whose wondrous Love hath measured all my days:  
If thou vouchsafe to make a Worm rejoice,  
Give him a thankful praising heart and voice.  
Thy shining Glory blessed Angels see:  
Angels must sing thy Highest praise, not we:  
But if thy warming beams cause Worms to speak,  
Their base part will not the Consort break.  
When Time was yet no measure; when the Sun  
It's rapid motion had not yet begun;  
When Heaven, & Earth, & Sea, were yet unframed,  
Angels and Men, and all things else unnam'd;  
When there did nothing else exist but Thee,  
Thou wast the same, and still the same wilt be:  
When there was none to know or praise thy Name,  
Thou wast in perfect Blessedness the same.  
The Father, Word and Spirit, One in Three,  
Trinity doth with Unity agree.  
Th' Eternal Life, that quickens all that lives;  
The soul of souls; the Light which all Light gives  
Immense and boundless, present every where:  
Beyond all place and creatures, thou art there,  
Uncomprehended, comprehending all:  
Foreknowing whatsoever shall befall.  
Uncaused, thou causest all that hath a Being:  
Unknown, thou knowst; unseen, thou art allseeing.  
Though necessary, yet without constraint;  
Unmoved, yet moving all, dost never faint.  
All things depend on Thee; and Thou on none;  
And changing all things, art unchanged alone.  
One in th' innumerable multitude;  
Perfectly ordering things which seem most rude.  
Infinite Power, one accent of whose breath,  
Can sentence Heaven and Earth to life or death.  
Yea, by one act of efficacious Will  
Canst make and unmake worlds; give life, and kill.  
Reason transcending all created Reason;  
Not only knowing all things in their season,  
But with a Knowledge perfect, infinite,  
Knowing Thyself in Thine Eternal Light.  
A knowledge which doth utterly excel,  
The Knowledge of the Earth, the heavens & Hell;  
To know ten thousand worlds, were but to know  
The finite streams which from thy Will do flow:  
Existents, Future's, all Contingencies  
Concealed from man, are naked to thine eyes:  
Of every thing thou knowst the Form and Cause;  
As giving all their Nature and their Laws.  
Nature's whole frame is but one piece to thee.  
The Place and Use of all things thou dost see.  
The Globes of Heaven and Earth are in thy span;  
Thou seest not things by parcels, like poor Man.  
Our narrow minds see here and there a letter,  
Not rightly placed, and therefore read no better:  
We make the Events of this day our sorrow,  
Because we know not what will be to morrow.  
Things present, past and future; old and new,  
Thou see'st entirely with one single view.  
Thou seest all at home that's understood:  
Loving thyself, thou lovest all that's Good.  
Goodness itself, and perfect Excellence,  
Transcending humane Reason, Will and Sense:  
Good in thyself, and to thyself alone,  
Before thou wast to any creature known.  
Blessed in thy own Eternal pleasing sight;  
Thy own Eternal Love, Thy own Delight.  
Those that can find in Thee no greater Good,  
Than that thou giv'st them life, and health, & food,  
And bountifully from thy ample Treasure  
Blessest thy creatures with desired pleasure,  
Set up themselves, and do the worst they can,  
To make themselves the Gods, and Thee the Man.  
They that can love thee but for loving them,  
Make thee the casket, and themselves the gem.  
To love thyself is infinitely better,  
Than if Love made a world of worlds its debtor.  
Thy own Perfections by Attraction move,  
As the chief formal Object of Man's Love.  
Though our own Good we may, and must intend;  
Thy simple Goodness is Man's chiefest End.  
They that deny this, never knew Love's force,  
Which to mere Excellence hath its recourse:  
Or never well considered Love's End,  
Which unto Good, for Goodness sake doth tend.  
To be Man's End, is but to be most Loved:  
And Good's the Loadstone by which Love is moved.  
What though to Thee the creature nothing add?  
That proves Thee perfect; neither weak nor bad;  
And therefore fit to be the Final Cause,  
Which all hearts by attractive Goodness draws:  
Love is the Final and Enjoying act;  
Closing with Thee by thy Magnetic tract:  
Not as it mourneth for the Good we want;  
Nor as it after distant Good doth pant;  
〈…〉 as it reacheth its desires:  
And more as it with Pleasure Thee admires.  
This Love, besides its Object, hath no End:  
It doth not to some Higher Virtue tend:  
But from a seed, grows up to higher stature,  
Of Divine Complacence, which is its nature.  
All other Grace is but the means to it:  
They draw the bow; but Love the mark doth hit.  
But sinners lost in SELF rise not above  
The lower Region of their own SELF-LOVE.  
Experience assures me that I can  
Love a most learned, wise and holy man  
Unseen, my very heart is to him knit,  
Without respect to any benefit.  
Reason convinceth me, that I should err,  
If the known BEST, my Love should not prefer:  
Should I not rather choose myself alone  
To be annihilated, or undone,  
Than the whole world should bear the same distress,  
Or Towns, or Countries; seeing I am less?  
Or the Creator should take down the Sun?  
Destroy the Earth? or Rivers cease to run?  
Reason taught Heathens that their Country's good,  
Was worth the shedding of their vital blood:  
A faithful Subject thinks his Life a thing  
Meet to be cast away to save his King.  
True Soldiers would choose death, if so they may  
But save their Captain's lives, or win the day.  
Many have chose to die through love of friends;  
Preferring them above all selfish Ends.  
It is not Reason, but blind selfish Passion,  
If One refuse to die to save a Nation.  
A silly useless Wretch should not refuse  
His Death, before a useful man's, to choose.  
My Neighbour as myself I must respect,  
And for my Brethren must my Life reject. (1 Joh. 3. 16.)  
O doleful proof of Man's unhappy fall!  
That loves not GOD above Himself and All!  
And if I love him most, He is my End:  
Man's Love above the Lover must ascend.   

But O how wisely hast thou made the twist!  
To Love Thee and Myself do well consist.  
Love is the closure of Connaturals;  
The Soul's return to its Originals:  
As every Brook is towards the Ocean bend;  
And all things to their proper Element:  
And as the inclination of the Sight,  
How small soever, is unto the Light:  
As the touched Needle pointeth towards the Pole:  
Thus unto Thee inclines the Holy Soul;  
It trembleth and is restless till it come  
Unto thy Bosom, where it is at home.  
Yet no such Union dare the Soul desire,  
As Parts have with the Whole, and sparks to fire;  
But as dependant, low, subordinate,  
Such as thy Will of nothing did create:  
As tendeth to the Sun, the smallest Eye  
Of silly vermin, or the poorest Flie.  
My own Salvation when I make my End;  
Full Mutual Love is all that I intent.  
And in this closure though I happy be,  
It's by Intending and Admiring Thee.  
O happy Grace! which feeds above the Skies!  
And causest Man above Himself to rise!  
And saves what it denys! when worldlings lose  
What they despised, and what they loved and chose!  
The more I do myself in Love neglect,  
And only to thy Goodness have respect,  
When most myself I from myself abstract,  
This is the sweetest, and selfpleasing act!  
Even when I seem to leave myself behind,  
Coming to Thee, with Thee myself I find.  
When I am lest the Object of my Love,  
And unto Thee do most entirely move,  
My Soul, the willing Agent, drawn by Grace,  
Will Rest in Love, and Vision of thy Face.   

But, in this wilderness and vale of Tears,  
How is Love dampt by ignorance and fears!  
For no Man's Love his knowledge can exceed:  
And guilty Terrors disaffection breed.  
Mortals can know thee but as in a glass.  
True formal Knowledge doth man's mind surpass.  
No Thoughts or Names are adequate to Thee:  
They are but Metaphors from what we see;  
Which first thy Works and Image signify;  
And thence to Thee men's rising Minds apply.  
As far as Faith comes short of perfect Sight,  
And this dark Prison of the Glorious Light;  
So far this distant mediate Love's below  
The heavenly Love which mortals cannot know.  
What will it be to love Thee face to face,  
When thou appear'st so lovely in this Glass?   

Thy Goodness is not to that world confined:  
To worthless, sinful mortals thou art kind:  
Thy mercies to the smallest are not small:  
To some more wonderful, but great to all.  
Thy matchless Power doth itself express,  
Upon the smallest Worm, or pile of Grass.  
The Methods of thy Wisdom are profound:  
All must admire the depths which none can sound.   

When Man from Holy Love, turned to a Lie,  
Thy Image lost, became thine Enemy;  
O what a Seal did Love and Wisdom find  
To reimprint thine Image on Man's Mind?  
Thou sent'st the Signet from thine own right hand,  
Made man for them that had themselves unmanned.  
Th' Eternal Son, who in thy bosom dwelled;  
Essential burning Love, men's hearts to melt:  
Thy lively Image; he that knew thy mind:  
Fit to illuminate and heal the blind.  
With Love's great Office, thou didst him adorn:  
Redeemer of the helpless and forlorn:  
On Love's chief work and message he was sent:  
Our Flesh he took; our pain he underwent:  
Thy pardoning, saving Love to Man did preach:  
The Reconciler stood up in the breach:  
The uncreated Image of thy Love,  
By his Assumption, and the Holy Dove,  
On his Own Flesh thy Image first impressed;  
And by that stamp renews it on the rest.  
Love was his Nature, Doctrine, Life and Breath:  
Love flamed in his Sufferings and Death:  
Thus Love thine Image, Love on Man doth print:  
This Coin, thy Son, thy Word and Spirit mint.  
He that will have it True, must have it here;  
Though Love prepare its way by Grief and Fear:  
Yea oft by these expresseth its Desire;  
They are sincere when kindled by its fire.  
These are LOVE's Methods, passing tongue & pen:  
Wonders and Joys, to Angels, and to Men.    

The Second Part.  

LOVE, which can make its Object, did produce  
This Worm, in season, for his proper use:  
In the Earth's Garden, the most happy Land,  
Where Christians dwell, & Christian Kings command:  
Where plenteous streams of living waters flow;  
Where the first-fruits of Paradise do grow:  
Whence Proud, Dark, Bloody Popery was driven:  
To whom the opened Book of God was given.  
Where sacred guides, and books, and helps abound;  
And all that will may hear the joyful sound.   

My Parents here thy skilful hand did plant,  
Free from the snares of Riches and of Want.  
Their tender care was used for me alone,  
Because thy providence gave them but One:  
Their early Precepts so possessed my heart,  
That taking root, they did not thence depart.  
Thy Wisdom so contrived my Education,  
As might expose me to the least temptation.  
Much of that guilt thy Mercy did prevent,  
In which my spring-time I should else have spent.  
Yet Sin sprung up, and early did appear;  
●n love of play, and lies produced by fear:  
An appetite pleased with forbidden fruit,  
A proud delight in literate repute;  
Excess of pleasure in vain Tales, Romances;  
Time spent in feigned Histories and Fancies:  
In idle talk, conform to company;  
Childhood and Youth had too much vanity.  
Conscience was oft resisted when it checked,  
And holy duty I did much neglect.   

Yet patience bore; thy Spirit still did strive:  
Restless Convictions still were kept alive.  
Thou wouldst not give me over, till thy Grace  
Revived thy Image which sin did deface.  
Thou strangely putst such Books into my hand,  
As caused me my case to understand:  
As touched my conscience, wakened my heart,  
And laid it under careful fears and sinart.  
And made me question with a deeper sense,  
Whither my soul must go when it goes hence.   

Then did thy Light detect the vanity  
Of all the Joys and Hopes below the Sky.  
The fruitless bustle which the Worldling makes;  
The madness of the course the Sinner takes;  
The wicked world I thought a Bedlam was:  
And senseless Sinners hearts were stone or brass:  
I wondered men could live so carelessly,  
Ready to pass into Eternity!  
And O how easily could I confute  
All that against a holy life dispute?   

I wondered at myself that stayed so long,  
So little touched with Arguments so strong!  
Laughing and playing, as if all were well,  
For aught I knew, near to the brink of Hell.  
I marvelled at my former senslesness!  
My sin and misery I did confess.  
And now what horrid darkness on my mind,  
Never before lamented did I find?  
Sin was like sickness in my flesh and bone,  
Which only by the Book before was known.   

Christ's Office now I better understood,  
The need my Soul had of his cleansing Blood:  
How insufficient of myself I was,  
To bring my own deliverance to pass:  
Now I began to feel as well as see,  
How near the Word of Grace concerned me:  
That all means else in Heaven and Earth were vain;  
My Peace with God, and pardon to obtain!  
To whom else should my sinful Soul have gone?  
But for my Saviour, I had been undone.  
Oh my dear God how precious is thy Love?  
Thus thou preparest us for the Life above.   

The heavenly Powers which made my heart to quake,  
My Prison bonds and doors did open shake:  
Sin now was folly, villainy and shame:  
God, Heaven, Christ, Holiness, seem not the same:  
How thou wouldst use me, yet I did not know,  
Whether my sin thou wouldst forgive, or no:  
But well I saw there was no turning back:  
Nature is loath to go to Hell awake:  
Thy Gospel told me, I might mercy find:  
Nothing but Hell and Darkness was behind:  
At last thy Grace brought me to this conclusion,  
To HOPE and SEEK I fixed my resolution.  
O my dear God How precious is thy Love?  
Thy Griefs prepare us for the Joys above.   

Yet these my wounds and smart were not so great,  
As many's who sat long in scorners seat:  
Nor did the change so suddenly begin,  
As to make known when special Grace came in:  
In my young years thou hadst convinced my Soul:  
Conscience did childish vanity control:  
I liked thy ways as best: I honoured those,  
That Folly shunned, and Holy Wisdom chose:  
Thou hadst prevented Oaths and horrid crimes;  
And the enormous vices of the times:  
Preserving me from youthful lusts and rage:  
The thoughts of Thee increasing with my Age.  
This greatest Change began when I was green,  
Having not much above three lustres seen:  
Therefore I doubted whether it were true,  
Because its entrance I no better knew:  
Long was I sadly questioning thy Grace,  
Because thy Spirits steps I could not trace.  
The difference is so great 'twixt Heaven and Hell  
That those must differ much who there must dwell  
I feared the change which raised my soul no higher  
Would not suffice to save me from Hell fire.  
But above all, I thought so Hard a heart,  
Could not among the living have a part.  
I thought thy Son would never heal my sore,  
Unless my tears and sorrow had been more.  
I wondered at my great stupidity!  
That could not weep when I deserved to die.  
I wondered, things so great as Heaven and Hell,  
Did on my heart with no more feeling dwell!  
That words which such amazing things import,  
Did not sink deeper, and my soul transport!  
That things of Everlasting consequence,  
Did not affect me with a deeper sense.  
And that a soul so near its final doom,  
Could give these worldly trifles any room.  
That on these shadows I could cast an eye,  
While Death & Judgement, Heaven & Hell stood by.  
I wondered when my odious sin was named,  
I was no more confounded and ashamed!  
Many a time I begged a tender heart,  
And never prayed so much for joy, as smart.  
I could have kissed the place where I did kneel,  
If what my tongue had spoke, my heart could feel.  
These were my cries when I to Thee did speak,  
O that this heart of stone might melt or break!  
These were my groans; this was my daily breath;  
● save me from Hardheartedness and Death!  
This was the title which I used to take,  
Senseless Hardhearted wretch, that cannot wake.]  
But as thy Wisdom gives in fittest measure;  
Not all at once: It's meet we wait thy leisure.  
● thought that things unseen should pierce and melt,  
With as great Passion as things seen and felt.  
But now I find it is their proper part,  
To be most valued, to be next the Heart;  
To be the highest Interest of the soul;  
There to command, and all things else control.   

Thus must the little spark of fire be blown,  
Or else it will not flame, nor scarce be known;  
New-lighted Candles, darkened by the snuff,  
Are ready to go out with every puff:  
So it was long before the heavenly spark  
Conquered my snuff, and shined in the dark:  
My feeble newborn soul began with crying:  
My Infant-life did seem to be still dying:  
Betwixt supporting Hope, and sinking Fears,  
My doubting soul did languish many years.  
O my dear God how precious is thy Love?  
Thy troubling Motions tend to Rest above.   

Thus GRACE. like NATURE entereth in a seed;  
Which with man's labour, heavenly dews must feed:  
Whose Virtue and first Motions no eye sees;  
But after comes to ripeness by degrees:  
Our Father's tender Love doth much appear,  
When he with useless crying Babes can bear:  
When we the Houshold's grief and trouble are;  
He shows the more his patient nursing care.  
At first I wished that I could pray and weep:  
Thus when I could not go, I learned to creep:  
Then thou beganst to lose my Infant tongue;  
And taught'st me Abba, Father, when but young  
First by the Book, and some unworded groans;  
After by heart-indited words and moans.  
Thy diet first was Milk, than stronger food:  
But always that which wholesome was and good.  
Though Preachers were too often dry and dull,  
Thy holy Word was quick and powerful:  
The many precious Books of holy men,  
Thy Spirit used on me as his Pen:  
Perkins, Sibbs, Bolton, Whateley, holy Dod,  
Hildersham, Preston, other men of God,  
How pertinently spoke they to my case?  
They opened Heaven and Hell before my face:  
They did unfold the Gospel-Mysteries,  
And set Christ crucified before my eyes:  
They shamed sin; they showed me the snare;  
Opened the danger; charged me to beware.  
In every duty they did me direct;  
Told me the sin, and danger of neglect:  
They searched my heart; helped me to try my state  
My earthly Mind they helped to elevate:  
What strong & quickening motives did they bring  
To raise my heart, and wind the slackened spring  
These happy Counselor's wero still at hand;  
The Maps, and Landscapes of the Holy Land.  
This food was not locked from me; but I could  
Go read a holy Sermon when I would.  
How cheaply kept I many Rare Divines?  
And for a little purchased Golden Mines?  
My griefs they eased; my many doubts resolved;  
With great delight I daily then revolved:  
O my dear God how precious is thy Love?  
Are these thy Candles? What's the Sun above?   

At last my Fears became my greatest Faar,  
Lest that my whole Religion should lie there:  
No man hath more of Holiness than Love:  
Which doth free souls by complacency move  
Common Grace goes as far as Fear alone:  
This eateth not the meat, but gnaws the bone.  
A slavish fear desireth leave to sin:  
It doth but tie the hands, and wash the skin.  
Hypocrites act a forced affected part:  
Where Love is absent, God hath not the heart.  
He'll not accept what's done against men's will,  
That if they durst, had rather have done ill.   

Oh my dear God shall not my Heart be thine?  
Then I shall wish it never had been mine.  
Objects of Sense do soon move the Passion:  
But sure Thou hast my highest Estimation;  
My Will's Resolved Choice is to be Thine:  
My Soul and Body I to Thee resign:  
To Thee the motions of my Soul do bend:  
Thou art the Scope to which my Life doth tend.  
The Motions of the higher Faculties,  
The Ruling Powers are chiefest in thine eyes:  
Thou tak'st the Love and Homage which they pay;  
Though Rebel Passion doth not them obey,  
What makes me laugh most, makes me not most glad  
What made me weep most, made me not most sad:  
My Love to one choice friend hath oft more passion,  
Than my much greater Love to Church & Nation.  
O had I all my Powers at command!  
As readily as tongue, or foot, or hand!  
My eyes should empty first the serous store,  
Because I love so good a God no more:  
And next some of the florid Blood should spend,  
Because the God of Love I did offend.  
The rest should serve for Oil unto Love's Fire,  
Wasting in restless vehement Desire:  
At every mention of thy Blessed Name,  
My ravished Soul should mount up in Love's flame:  
Each Sermon should Elias Chariot be,  
To carry up my longing heart to Thee.  
The Saints Assemblies I would make more bright,  
Where many Heav'n-aspiring flames unite.  
And when my Lord's Love-sufferings I read,  
My pierced and Love-wounded heart should bleed.  
Love should enforce each word when I do pray;  
A Flaming Heart I'd on thy Altar lay:  
When halving Hypocrites give Thee a part,  
Love should present my Whole, though Broken heart.  
When in thy Word I read Love's Mysteries;  
There I would sweetly feed my greedy eyes.  
Each Sacrament should be an Eucharist:  
There Heart with Heart, & Love with Love should twist.  
My friends and I would in our daily walk  
Of Love's Delights and Entertainments talk:  
My working Love should others Love excite:  
In Love I'd be a Burning Shining Light.  
Love through the Lantern of my flesh should shine:  
Who heard me speak, should hear that I am Thine:  
Remembering that in Love I must be made  
Equal to Angels; I would learn their Trade:  
Yea I would reach up to a higher shelf;  
And as my Copy, look to Christ himself:   

Love's work I'd do with all my diligence, 
Mar. 3. 20. 21.   
Though men should think I were beside my sense. 
2. Cor. 5. 13.    

My daily Love should rise before the Sun,  
And it in speed and constancy out run:  
Love as my Life should fill up all my days;  
Desire should be my Pulse; my Breath thy Praise.  
And I would wind up all the strings as high,  
As Blessed Paul was in his Ecstasy.  
Heavenly Love should all my words indite,  
And be the soul and sense of all I write:  
My heart of Love's Delights should sweetly think,  
I'd write with flaming fire instead of Ink:  
And yet thy holy Day should be my Best,  
In it my thirsty Soul should taste of Rest;  
My daily food should increase to a Feast.  
O my Dear God how precious is thy Love?  
O could I mount thus to the Flames above?   

These are Love's pant after thee, my God  
Though, with my Soul, imprisoned in a clod!  
☞ My Soul and Love shall shortly be set free;  
And than my Soul, my Love shall feast on Thee.  
If thou wouldst grant the very thing I crave,  
And give me leave to choose what I would have;  
Should it be lusts, or Sports, or Fleshly pleasure?  
Sold it be Lordly Rule, or Earthly Treasure?  
No; I could gladly leave this Dirt to Swine,  
And let the World be theirs, if Thou be mine!  
I would not thirst to taste of their Delight.  
If lively Faith might see the blessed Sight!  
I would not be ambitious of a Throne!  
I could have full content in God alone.  
For men's Esteem and Praise I would not care:  
All other Wit and Knowledge I could spare:  
To Know and Love my God should be my choice:  
Give me but This, and how shall I rejoice?  
Under my hand, Lord, This is it I choose:  
O give me this, whatever else I lose!  
Is there no spark of Love in this Desire?  
When a poor Soul doth unto Thee aspire?  
To Know and Love thee is my thirst and strife:  
Nothing more makes me weary of my life,  
Than that I feel no more the heavenly Fire,  
But look and reach, and yet can reach no higher.  
Here lies my pain! This is my daily sore:  
● hate my Heart for loving God no more.  
Do I not Love Thee, when I Love to Love Thee?  
And when I set up nothing else above Thee?  
Next GOD himself, who is my END & REST,  
Love which stands next Thee, I esteem my Best,  
And Loving God shall be my Endless Feast.  
O my Dear God how precious is thy Love?  
These are thy Earnests of the Life above.   

Fear is to Love, as was the Law to Grace:  
And as John Baptist goes before Christ's face,  
Preaching Repentance: it prepares his way:  
It is the first appearing of the Day:  
The dawning Light which comes before the Sun:  
As he that to Christ's Scpulchre first run,  
Excites the LOVED Disciple to do better;  
The certain news of Life comes by the later.  
Fear is Love's Harbinger: It is the womb,  
Where Love doth breed till time of ripeness come!  
No wonder if it be not seen till then:  
The Seed and Embryo are hid from men.  
Though Thou comest in by Love, Fear draws the latch:  
Fear makes the motion, though Love makes the match:  
Fear is the soil that cherisheth the seed;  
The Nursery in which heavens Plants do breed.  
God first in Nature finds Self-Love, and there  
He takes advantage to implant his Fear.  
With some the time is long before the Earth  
Disclose her young one by a springy Birth:  
When Heaven doth make our Winter sharp & long,  
The seed of Love lies hid, or seems but young:  
But when God makes it Springtime, his approach  
Takes from the barren Soul its great reproach;  
When heavens reviving Smiles and Rays appear,  
Then Love begins to spring up above Fear:  
And if sin hinder not by cursed shade,  
It quickly shoots up to a youthful blade:  
And when heavens warmer beams & dews succeed,  
That's ripened fruit which even now was but seed:  
Yet doth not flowering, fruitful Love forget  
Her Nursing Fear; there still her Root is set:  
In Humble Self-denial undertrod,  
While Flower and Fruit are growing up to God  
After Love's Birthday, holy Fear and Care  
The outward Part of the New-creature are.  
As mortal man consists of Flesh and Soul,  
So Fear and Love, on Earth, do make one Whole.  
Love, as the Soul, unseen, yet bears the sway:  
Fear, as the Flesh, more felt, must it obey.  
By Fear, Love doth the daring Flesh restrain,  
And keepeth men awake by threatened pain.  
This frame is mortal: Not that Love can die;  
But leaving Fears, will dwell alone on high:  
Yet will retain a Reverend Fear of God;  
But not the terror of his Wrath or Rod.  
O my Dear God how precious is thy Love?  
How wise thy Methods to the Life above?  
Thou first appearedst in Lightning, as to Paul:  
My heat abated, at thy feet I fall.  
The voice with which thy Call thou didst begin,  
Was to convince me, and reprove my sin:  
I first enquired of thee, who thou art?  
And then, what duty thou hadst made my part?  
Thus Fear and Care began; but the sweet Name  
Of Jesus did reviving Hope proclaim.  
And though long time it scarcely did appear,  
Yet sure some hidden spark of Love was there.  
I loved thy Holy Word; Good Books were sweet,  
Those that did with my own condition meet:  
Heart-searching Ministers were my delight, ☞  
Those that did most my drowsy Soul excite.  
I dearly loved all in whom I saw  
A Love to Thee, and Care to keep thy Law:  
The speech and sight of Holy men was sweet;  
I honoured them, and could have kissed their feet.  
I felt their living words go to the quick,  
When common idle prating made me sick.  
I dearly loved my serious bosom friend,  
Who did in Love my failings reprehend;  
That could my doubting troubled mind condole,  
And help to keep awake my sleepy Soul:  
Who could unfold the Mysteries of Grace,  
And speak particularly to my case;  
Sweetly disclosing his experience;  
Extolling Mercy from his own deep sense;  
One that had been instructed by the Rod,  
And boiled over in the Praise of God:  
Who early (and oft in the night) would rise,  
To offer Thee a Thankful Sacrifice:  
Who warmed me with his Zeal when I was cold;  
And my remissness lovingly controlled;  
Who stirred me up, and taught me how to pray;  
And friendly watched and warned me every day.  
And yet his Piety did not exceed  
His Charity, to those that were in need.  
For such a friend I had; though after all,  
Himself became my warning by his fall;  
As more than One or Two have done since then;  
Showing, when Grace withdraws, we are but Men.  
O my Dear God how precious is thy Love?  
These are the seeds: what are the fruits above?   

Yet did I scarce discern that it was Thee,  
Whom in the Glass my pleased Mind did see:  
But though thine Image more incur my sense,  
I love it for the portrayed excellence:  
It's not because the Workmanship is fine,  
But Good and Holy; and because it's Thine.  
I better know the Map that's in my hand:  
But yet, by it, I better Love the Land.  
Sure when I loved thy Books, and every letter;  
I loved the Sense, and End, and Author better.  
He loveth Wisdom sure, who loves the Wise:  
It's like he loves the Light, who loves his Eyes.  
If one in Prison had his life begun,  
Where he had never seen the shining Sun;  
Yet if he dearly love the Candle-light,  
He'd urely love the Sun, which is more bright.  
Or if the Sun had always clouded been,  
And men its scattered Light alone had seen;  
●'s true, our Thoughts and Love of that we see,  
Would more exact and satisfying be:  
But to the unseen Cause, as it is Better,  
Our Love of Estimation would be Greater.  
And even a Knowledge general and dark,  
Would be the Chooser of our End and Mark.  
That Love's most sensible, which Sense doth breed;  
But that Commands, which Faith and Reason feed:  
The Country than the Map, I must confess, ☞  
●s much less known; but is not known as less.  
A Create and Certain Object should do more,  
Though darkly known, than trifles at my door:  
An Unseen Kingdom would with men prevail,  
To leave their Native place, and hoist up sail,  
And venture over stormy boisterous Seas:  
which shows that great things, though unseen, most please.  
No wonder if the Knowledge be most clear,  
Or little things which to the sense are near;  
These narrow parcels we can comprehend,  
When unseen Greatness, doth the mind transcend:  
But yet This moves the Wheels, and is the Spring,  
Before the nearest sight of some small thing.  
That is most Loved, which I make my End;  
To which my great designs and actions tend;  
For which I can all other Treasure spend,  
Although I do it darkly apprehend.  
O my Dear God how precious is thy Love?  
Unveiled fully to thy Saints above?   

As fire first kindleth on the nearest Wood,  
My sense thus fixed on the nearest good:  
And where sense fixed, there with greatest sense  
The mind did exercise its Complacence.  
It seemed more cold to that which distant was;  
Yet still looks further as I forward pass:  
And towards my End, the nearer Heaven I go,  
My Love abstracteth more from things below.  
Love seemeth to get ground, and Fear decays;  
Doubting & Grief give place to Thanks & Praise  
And though Fear wrought with greatest sense before,  
And was in bulk and violence much more;  
Yet the least spark of Love which is sincere,  
Will save the Soul, though mixed with greater Fear:  
Who loves God somewhat, & the world above him  
Loving not God as God, he doth not love him:  
Love must be so far tried by the measure,  
That God be Loved above all earthly Treasure:  
But that supposed the least degree of Love,  
With greater Doubts and Fears will saving prove  
Great Bodies with small souls are animate:  
Great Heads with little Eyes, are oculate.  
Small Candles lighten Rooms that are more large  
A Steward may have spacious Lands in charge.  
The Kingdom may be bigger than the King:  
The Diamond may be smaller than the Ring:  
The House may bigger than the dweller be:  
Great Fear and little Love, consistent be.  
But still true Love to God and Man are known,  
More by the Fruits, than by the Sense alone.  
● must be such a Love, as when there's need,  
Will venture, suffer, visit, cloth and feed.  
● my Dear God how precious is thy Love?  
Which gently leads us to the Joys above?   

Love still went on, and lined out my way,  
Hedging me in, lest I should go astray:  
Yet after this how oft did I transgress?  
By light discourse, and wanton play fullness;  
●ating to fullness: Yea, even Cards and Dice,  
Began my mind with pleasure to entice.  
But Providence did quickly interpose,  
And by a wonder take me off from those.  
Sin most ensnared by pleading lawfulness;  
Though Conscience often did the sin confess:  
That wounded deepest which by seeming small,  
Drew me to venture, and resist thy Call;  
And knowingly the same oft to commit,  
Thinking all Christians had as great as it.  
Let all that would not be undone by sin,  
Fly the occasions where it doth begin.  
At first it's safe and pleasant to resist.  
But O how doleful is it to persist?  
Sin doth not open its design at first:  
Its first appearance showeth not the worst:  
Flattering the sense, it seems to be a friend;  
But it proves pain and poison in the end.  
Pray from Temptation that you may be free,  
If from the evil you would saved be.  
Repentance must convince you that its gall,  
Which first appeared innocent or small.  
O how it fills the Soul with guilty fears!  
Our filial Evidences blasts and tears?  
Disturbs our Peace, and feeds the gnawing Worm  
Turns our Tranquillity into a storm?  
It puts a piercing sting into the Cross,  
And makes Death dreadful as the greatest loss.  
Yet all my folly Mercy did forgive,  
And did my guilty wounded soul relieve.  
O my Dear God how precious is thy Love?  
Heal me, and fit me for the Joys above.   

Thy Love in order to it's well known Ends,  
Showed me great mercy in meet Guides & Friends:  
Ancient and grave Divines, solid and stayed,  
Who from Experience both preached and prayed:  
Learned, yet counting Christianity  
The chiefest Learning and Philosophy.  
These as the Fathers of my untaught Youth,  
Were willing to communicate the Truth.  
Their help and fruitful converse was my stay,  
And great encouragement in all my way;  
More pleasant to me than my youthful games:  
My love doth grudgingly suppress their names.  
The company thou gav'st me was not vain,  
●ot proud or factious, sensual or profane:  
●●t serious, sober, and obedient,  
Those time was in their peaceful labours spent:  
●umble and meek, who made it their discourse,  
●o stir up Faith, and penitent remorse.  
●inding the Lowest, and the Highest things;  
●ot meddling busily with States and Kings.  
Making thy holy Word their chief delight,  
●nd meditating in it day and night:  
●ending thy day in works of holiness;  
●ating profaneness, lewdness and excess:  
Content with little, yet aspiring high;  
sparing no pains for immortality:  
Low in the world; but for salvation wise;  
Though scorned by faithless fools as too precise.  
O my Dear God how precious is thy Love?  
Such thou wilt take to dwell with Thee above.   

Thy Mercy did my younger Studies guide:  
Sweet leisure and meet Books thou didst provide;  
And that I might thy Love the better see,  
My Tutor thou thyself wast pleased to be:  
As Honey-combs are made by patient Bees,  
Who fetch the matter home by slow degrees,  
In many days, and from a thousand Flowers,  
Not perfecting their work in a few hours:  
So taughtst thou me to wait the Learning time,  
Not reaching first at matters too sublime;  
Few to maturity of Knowledge grow,  
Who think they know, before indeed they know.  
Thou didst improve the thirsty love of Truth,  
Which thou hadst given me even in my youth.  
My Labours thou mad'st easy by delight:  
Each day's success, did to the next invite.  
But O the happy Method of thy Grace!  
Which gave my own Salvation the first place!  
And first resolved me of the utmost end,  
Which all my after Studies must intend:  
Showing me first, Why, and For What I must  
Lay out my Studies, that they be not lost:  
Unhappy men! who follow base designs,  
And are not Christians, when they are Divines!  
O that an Impious Divine were rare!  
Although the terms a contradiction are.  
Alas in what a blind or trembling State,  
Should I all day have at my Studies sat,  
And with how little joy, or hope of gains,  
If I had studied still in Satan's chains?  
O foolish Studies! to consider how  
The Earth is fixed, and the Plants do grow?  
What is each creatures specifying cause?  
And what are all their Orders and their Laws?  
When thy own saving Change is to begin!  
And thou hast yet no pardon of thy sin?  
When all the while thou art a Son of Wrath,  
Who to Eternal Life no title hath?  
When in thy flow'ring Studies thou may'st die,  
And be undone to all Eternity?  
Who would be playing at a childish game,  
While his own House is in a burning flame?  
What if I knew whether the Earth or Sun  
So swift and unperceived a course doth run?  
Or knew the course and order of the spheres?  
Or were best skilled in numbering past years?  
Knew all the Houses of the starry Sky?  
And things that are for common wits too high?  
What if I knew all these never so well?  
And knew not how to scape the flames of Hell?  
What gain or pleasure would my knowledge be?  
If I the face of God must never see?  
Or what if I could fool away my time,  
In smooth and well composed idle Rhyme?  
Or dreaming Lovers Fancies could rehearse,  
In the most lofty and adorned verse?  
While my unholy Soul, in fleshly thrall,  
Should be lamenting its own Funeral?   

But when my Soul had fixed on God her End,  
Then all my Studies unto him did tend.  
They all were ordered in due place and season,  
Guided by Faith, allowed by sound Reason:  
Thou taughtst me first the Only Needful Thing;  
And all my Studies harped still on that string:  
Judging the greatest Knowledge to be vain,  
Which tendeth not to the Immortal gain.  
There is a Knowledge which increaseth sorrow,  
And such whose fruit will die before to morrow:  
Yea, there's a knowledge which occasions sin:  
Desire of Knowing did Man's woe begin:  
All means are to be judged of by their End:  
That's good which doth good, or doth good portend  
Its End and Objects which ennoble acts:  
Those that do glorious things are glorious facts.  
Who calls a self-condemning sinner, Wise,  
That on a syllable can criticise;  
That can in mode and figure talk in vain;  
Or learnedly his pride and sin maintain?  
That's best at the resolving of a Riddle,  
Or playing on a Bagpipe, or a Fiddle:  
But hath not learned how to Live and Die,  
Nor where his Soul must dwell eternally?  
God and all wise men judge him but a fool,  
Who is not wise enough to save his Soul.  
When heavens made sure, all Knowledge than is good  
For Faith and Love can turn it into food:  
It's pleasant then to study any Book,  
When we see GOD the sense, where ere we look:  
When as the way to Heaven we know each place:  
And see God's beauty in each creatures' face:  
And when we stick not in the form and letter,  
But all our Knowledge tends to make us better.  
When still the more we Know, the more we Love,  
And draw more with us to the Joys above.  
Fine Fancies are not like clear minds; nor those  
Like Love, by which the Soul with God doth close.  
Wisdom itself will make the Mind most wise.  
He that ascends to God, doth Highest rise.  
Sure Pisgah was Parnassus, or the Mount,  
Where three Apostles did three Glories count:  
Christ's living streams are the true Helicon:  
None make true Poets but heavens springs alone.  
What poor, low, toyish work make frothy wits?  
Like Bacchus' Scholars in their Pot-wise fits.  
Like children's Poppets dressed with Lace and Pin;  
Like handsome Pictures; something wants within:  
A painted Feast, carved with a painted Knife:  
A Living Soul can feel it wanteth Life.  
Without a Holy Subject, End and Spirit,  
True Wisdom's sacred Titles none can merit.  
O my Dear God how precious is thy Love?  
These are the drops; what are the streams above?   

Immortal thanks my Soul doth owe my God,  
For his well-ordered needful healing Rod:  
The Book and Rod do well befit thy School;  
Correction is the portion of the Fool:  
The Rod itself will make the Sluggard rise:  
The Rod and Book make foolish Children wise.  
I felt or feared no evil at the first,  
But my Soul's misery, which is the worst:  
Whilst for a Soul-remedy I did look,  
Thy angry storm my Body overtook:  
Languishing weakness shortens strength & breath;  
Consumes my flesh, and threatens speedy death:  
And what I felt revived the fears of more:  
For now my Judgement seemed at the door:  
I knew not but it might be a foretaste  
Of greater woe which I might feel at last:  
My new awakened Soul amazed was,  
To think that unto Judgement it must pass,  
And see the unseen World; and stand before  
The dreadful God, whom Heaven & Earth adore!  
I was unready to behold thy face,  
Having no more assurance of thy Grace!  
Having but lately too familiar been,  
With my seducing flesh and hateful sin:  
My Thoughts of Thee were terrible and strange!  
And of so great and an untimely change!  
The threatened Ruin I did thus condole;  
O must my scarce-born, unprepared Soul  
Before my dreadful Judge so soon appear!  
And the decisive final Sentence hear!  
And all my Reckonings so soon bring in!  
And give account to God for every sin!  
Before I do my Soul's condition know,  
Or any scaled Pardon have to show.  
What if I prove an unconverted Wretch?  
And Justice should my Soul to torments fetch?  
How know I but the endless flames of Hell,  
May be the place where next my Soul shall dwell?  
Mercy would save me; but I did reject it:  
Christ's Blood would cleanse it; but I did neglect it.  
And though I am not hopeless, who can bear  
To die uncertain under so great fear I:  
O that my Tunes had all been better spent!  
And that my ca●●y Thoughts had all been bend  
In preparation for the Life to come:  
That now I might have gone as to my home!  
And taken up my dwelling with the blessed!  
And passed to everlasting Joy and Rest!  
O that the pleasures of my sports and toys,  
Had all been turned to manlike holy Joys!  
And those Delights which Vanities engrossed,  
And spent on fleshly Lusts, were worse than lost,  
Had all been sweet rejoicings in the Lord!  
And in his holy Service and his Word!  
O that I could my wasted Time call back,  
Which now my Soul for greater works doth lack;  
What would I give now for those precious days,  
Which once run out in pleasures and delays?  
O had I lived a strict and holy Life,  
Though under hatred and malicious strife!  
Though Men's and Devil's fury I had born,  
And been the world's reproach, contempt & scorn!  
Then welcome Death would but have quenched my thirst,   

And bid the envious world now do their worst.  
Their malice would but to my Joys accrue,  
And well-spent Time be sweet to my review.  
O happy men whose portion is above!  
Whose hearts to God and to his Service clove!  
Who made him and his Word their chief delight,  
And walked in uprightness, as in his sight!  
Approved their Hearts and Ways to him alone!  
As ready to appear before his Throne!  
Now I had rather far be one of them,  
Than one of worldly Wealth, or Princely Stem  
O now my undressed Soul is passing forth,  
I see both what the World and Christ are worth.   

Thus did the face of Death my Soul awake;  
The bonds of dead stupidity it broke!  
Strict, holy Truth I easily confessed:  
I saw that Godliness is not a jest.  
My late besotted mind is now past doubt,  
That Folly's careless, Wisdom is devout:  
I saw more clearly than I did before,  
What lies on an ungodly Sinners score?  
For what man's powers were made, what is their use▪  
To what all means and mercies do conduce?  
What is man's business while he's here below?  
How much his creatures to their Maker owe?  
Whether the Saint or Brute be in the right?  
Whether it's best to live by Faith or Sight?  
What is true Wit? what Learning's most sublime?  
How I and all should value precious Time?  
I saw it's not a thing indifferent,  
Whether my Soul to Heaven or Hell be sent.   

Death also further taught me how to pray,  
And made me cry unto thee every day;  
It set me on the trying of my state,  
Lest I should prove deceived when 'twas too late.  
Often and carefully I searched my heart,  
Whether in Christ by Faith I had a part?  
It showed me so much work to do at home,  
That alien needless matters found small room.  
It curbed my Pride, and buried my Ambition;  
Made me, not only bear a low condition,  
But choose it; and all things to estimate,  
As God, my Soul, and Heaven should set the rate.  
For now, as clearly as I saw the Sun,  
I saw in lines which they may read that run,  
That Endless things are All, when we compare,  
And transitory trifles Nothing are:  
That Worldlings in their sleep do talk and go,  
And all their lives are but a dreaming show:  
Only the true Believer lives awake,  
And doth not spend his days in mere mistake:  
That all who are not Saints, are worse than Brutes.  
These, O my Father! were thy Rod's first-fruits.  
O my Dear God how precious is thy Love?  
Thus we rebound up to the Joys above.   

Long thus before my God I lay prostrate,  
Begging for healing mercy at his gate!  
And for some longer time, to know his Truth,  
And not unripe to wither in my Youth!  
I begged that hasty Death he would delay,  
And would not snatch me unprepared away.  
I promised his mercies to rehearse,  
If he the dreadful Sentence would reverse.  
Could I have hoped for Hezekiah's years,  
I should no more than he, have spared tears.  
Yet hath thy Mercy granted me since then,  
More than thrice five, yea more than four times ten  
My moan thou pity'dst, and my cries didst hear  
Delaying Death; not taking off my fear:  
The threatening malady thou didst abate;  
And into many others didst translate;  
Which gave me hope of some preparing space;  
But none that Earth would prove a Resting place.  
Appointing me to serve in gentle Chains,  
In wholesome sickness, and in healing pains!  
So great as might my headstrong thoughts restrain  
From running after things terrene and vain:  
Yet were they not so great as to make less,  
My Service, or my sober cheerfulness:  
O what a happy mixture didst thou make!  
How meet a course did thy wise Mercy take?  
This was the pregnant blessing, kept for store,  
Which multiplied into a thousand more!  
Which hath run parallel with all my days;  
For which I owe thee everlasting praise:  
Too great for Volumes; too high for a Verse:  
And therefore endless Life must them rehearse.   

1.  
A Life still near to Death, did me possess  
With a deep sense of Time's great preciousness.  
To lose an hour I thought a greater loss,  
Than much of sordid worldlings golden dross.  
I thought them mad that cast their time away,  
Being uncertain of another day.  
That idly prate, and play, and feast, and drink,  
So near Eternity's most dreadful brink!  
With filthy, guilty Souls, unjustified;  
Undone for evermore if thus they died.  
O! thought I, where is these men's brains and sense,  
Who care no more whither they go from hence?  
Pastime I thought worse than a Bediam word:  
The Name and Thing my very Soul abhorred.   

2.  
This methodised my Studies to my gain;  
Shamed the contending, jingling, formal vein:  
The greatest matters it did first impose:  
Necessity my Book and Lesson chose:  
I studied first to save myself and others;  
What edified my own Soul and my Brothers:  
Thence to the Branches I in order clime;  
First Few and Great, next Many, Small, Sublime.  
I ne'er preferred to Talk, before, to Eat,  
Words, before Things, the Dish before the Meat:  
And yet I love and value all the rest:  
My curious mind would fain have known the least:  
But knowing Life's too short to reach to all,  
I left till last the needless things and small.   

3.  
The frequent sight of Death's most awful face,  
Rebuked my sloth, and bid me mend my pace!  
Thou knewest my dulness needed such a spur;  
So prone was I to trifle and demur.  
Who dare his Soul for gain or pleasure sell,  
That lives as in the sight of Heaven and Hell?  
4. This called me out to work while it was day;  
And warn poor Souls to Turn without delay:  
Resolving speedily thy Word to Preach;  
With Ambrose, I at once did Learn and Teach.  
Still thinking I had little time to live,  
My fervent heart to win men's Souls did strive.  
I Preached, as never sure to Preach again,  
And as a dying man to dying men!  
O how should Preachers Men's Repenting crave,  
Who see how near the Church is to the Grave?  
And see that while we Preach and Hear, we Die,  
Rapt by swift Time to vast Eternity!  
What Statues, or what Hypocrites are they,  
Who between sleep and wake do Preach & Pray?  
As if they feared wakening the Dead!  
Or were but lighting sinners to their Bed!  
Who speak of Heaven and Hell as on a Stage!  
And make the Pulpit but a Parrot's Cage?  
Who teach as men that care not much who learns;  
And Preach in jest to men that sin in earns.  
Surely God's Messenger, if any man,  
Should speak with all the seriousness he can;  
Who treateth in the Name of the Most High,  
About the Matters of Eternity!  
Who must prevail with sinners Now or Never,  
As those that must be saved Now, if Ever:  
When sinners endless Joy or Misery,  
On the success of his endeavours lie!  
Though God be free, he works by Instruments,  
And wisely fitteth them to his intents.  
A proud unhumbled Preacher is unmeet  
To lay proud sinners humbled at Christ's feet:  
So are the Blind to tell men what God saith,  
And faithless men to propagate the Faith.  
The Dead are unfit means to raise the Dead;  
And Enemies to give the Children Bread:  
And utter strangers to the Life to come,  
Are not the best Conductors to our home:  
They that yet never learned to Live and Die,  
Will scarcely teach it others feelingly:  
Or if they should Preach others to Salvation,  
Unhappy men that Preach their own Damnation.   

How oft did I come down with shame and grief!  
Not that I was so homely, or so brief;  
But that my own Soul was no more awake,  
And felt no more the things of which I spoke!  
That God was named with no more Reverence;  
Nor sinners pitied with a deeper sense:  
That closer warnings did not pierce men's Ears,  
Set home by greater fervency and tears:  
And that my speeches were so cold and sleight,  
About things of unutterable weight;  
And that I spoke with no more seriousness,  
When Heaven or Hell attended the success:  
As one that sees by Faith the Joys and Woes,  
To which the godly and the wicked goes.  
O my Dear God how precious is thy Love?  
How should we prise and seek the Joys above?  
Thy Methods crossed my ways: my young desire  
To Academic Glory did aspire:  
Feign I'd have sat in such a Nurse's Lap,  
Where I might long have had a sluggard's nap  
Or have been dandled on her Reverend Knees;  
And known by honoured Titles and Degrees;  
And there have spent the flower of my days,  
In soaring in the Air of humane praise:  
Yea and I thought it needful to thy Ends,  
To make the prejudiced world my friends;  
That so my praise might go before thy grace,  
Preparing men the Message to embrace;  
Also my work and Office to adorn,  
And to avoid profane contempt and scorn.  
But these were not thy thoughts; thou didst foresee  
That such a course would not be best for me:  
Thou mad'st me know that men's contempt & scorn  
Is such a Cross as must be daily born:  
Thy Mercy would not have me splendid dross;  
A Minister of Pomp; but of the Cross:  
That Cross which Hypocrites may Preach & Hear,  
But all that follow Christ must also bear.  
No Honour must I have to bring to thee,  
But what thou first communicat'st to me  
In founding of thy Church, thou didst declare  
How well all worldly Honours thou couldst spare!  
Both in the Chief most blessed Corner Stone,  
And in the most of those that built thereon:  
And what great swelling Names have done since then,  
Church-Rents and Ruins write without a Pen:  
High Titles as the first enchanting Cup,  
Cast down the Church by lifting of it up.  
Titles reflect on Minds. These must be low:  
By humble Love all must thy Servants know:  
Yet I deny not but a perfect mind,  
May more advantage here than danger find:  
Thy Soil is oft manured by such dung.  
I'll Honour give to whom it doth belong:  
It may be safe to others; but to me  
'Twas best from such Temptations to be free:  
Let my preferment lie in serving all:  
While I sit low, I have not far to fall.  
Keep me from the Temptations of the Devil!  
For so thou dost deliver us from Evil.  
My youthful Pride and Folly now I see,  
That grudged for want of Titles and Degree.  
That blushed with shame when this defect was known,  
And an inglorious Name could hardly own,  
Attempting to have hid it twice or thrice,  
With vile equivocations next to lies.  
And to thy Methods was unreconciled,  
Because I was not Rabbi, Doctor, styled.  
Forgive this Pride; and break the Serpent's brain;  
Pluck up the poisonous Root, till none remain.  
Give me the Wisdom; I'll not beg the Fame:  
Grant me the thing; let others take the name.  
Give me the Learning, and it is no harm,  
If thou shalt place me in the lowest Form.  
Honours are shadows, which from seekers fly;  
But follow after those who them deny.  
I brought none with me to thy work; but there  
I found more than I easily could bear:  
Although thou wouldst not give me what I would, 
Matth. 20. v. 21.   
Thou gavest me the promised hundred-fold. 
Matth. 19 v. 29.   
O my Dear God how precious is thy Love?  
Thy ways, not ours, lead to the Joys above.    

The Third Part.  

THE wondrous Mercy of my bounteous Lord,  
which sent me forth to Preach his sacred Word.  
Prepared my way, and called me to the place,  
Where I must first proclaim his Saving Grace:  
All things thou suitedst fitly to my need,  
Giving me freedom, season, ground and seed:  
Poor thirsty Souls, attend with greedy Ear,  
Crowding in multitudes thy Word to hear:  
Thy Mercy opening so wide a door,  
Gave some first-fruits betimes, and hopes of more.   

The various places where my Lot did fall,  
Were all appointed to me by thy Call.  
I never was to any of them brought,  
By the Direction of my own forethought:  
Much less was ever any by me sought;  
And least of all, by price or bargain bought.  
I ne'er found cause of one place to repent;  
(Although my sins in all I must lament.)  
None were foreseen; yet after seen to reason,  
To be the fittest for the work and season.  
But among all, none did so much abound,  
With fruitful mercies, as that barren ground,  
Where I did make my best and longest stay,  
And bore the heat and burden of the day;  
Mercies grew thicker there than Summer flowers:  
They over-numbered my days and hours:  
There was my dearest Flock, and special Charge.  
Our hearts in mutual love thou didst enlarge:  
'Twas there that mercy did my Labours bless;  
With the most great and wonderful success.   

Yet there were Sons of Belial, whose rage  
Reason with Truth and Love could not assuage:  
Who Loved and Hated, just as Satan bid them;  
Ruled by the Reins of Lust by him that rid them:  
In swinish drunkenness they drowned their wits:  
Most furious in their rude tumultuous fits.  
As Boars or Stags, at other times more tame;  
When lustful heats their blood and brains inflame;  
Fiercely assault such as stand in their way;  
None's safe before them till their heats decay:  
So doth the love of revel and sport,  
Poor brutish fleshly sinners so transport,  
That ragingly they fly in that man's face,  
Who doth by sacred Truth their sin disgrace:  
And as in Armies Drums and Trumpets sound,  
The frightful cries of wounded men to drowned;  
And even the fearful in the furious crowd,  
Are carried on to death through streams of blood:  
So those ensnared Youths, who formerly,  
Out of the Rout, retained some modesty,  
Conjoined with the Rabble did as they;  
The common fury and their lusts obey:  
Run with the Herd: Mirth and the Rabbles noise,  
Drown Reasons Plea, and God's reclaiming voice:  
Death is forgot: Conscience cannot be heard:  
Hell and Damnation now are little feared:  
They have their curse, & their own sentence pass:  
Away with Jesus! give us Barr abas!  
Away with Preachers, who disturb our game!  
Talk not of Judgement: Let us bear the blame!  
Whilst grieved Preachers can but wish & groan,  
O that your day of mercy you had known!  
O my Dear God how precious is they Love?  
Which looks on such with pity from above?   

Now England's horrid Civil Wars began,  
When God a sinful Nation meant to fan.  
When sin grown high & bold, outfaced the Light;  
When Pride and Faction pleaded Divine Right.  
When most their Love, & some their Patience lost;  
When proud malicious men must not be crossed:  
When wise men seemed fools, & fools seemed wise;  
And when the worst were best in their own eyes?  
When Piety with Lazarus was loathed;  
And Sin with Purple and fine Linen clothed:  
And when the sacred Tribe, despising Souls,  
Through love of wealth & honour blowed the coals!  
When Demas for the World deserted Paul;  
And their own matters were first sought by all:  
When they that sought their good things in this life  
Had banished Love, & filled the Church with strife  
Where striving factions Charity defied,  
And carnal Counsels did the Church divide!  
When swinish Gadarens did Christ refuse,  
And the profane his servants did abuse.  
When Holiness the common Foe was deemed,  
And nothing more intolerable seemed.  
When holy Truth and Preachers were despised;  
And wicked means to cast them out devised!  
When sin presumed to make a mock of grace,  
And folly spit reproaches in Christ's face!  
When vulgar rage had found this common vent;  
And impious scorn on Godliness was spent:  
When sin was not so much opposed as God,  
Then were we ready for the bloody Rod.  
When those sins reigned that must not now be named  
But by heavens Justice shall at last be shamed.  
When old condemned vanities and crimes,  
Became the Reverend Virtues of the Times,  
Then God in Judgement sat to plead his Cause,  
And judge the proud despisers of his Laws.  
Banished Love doth feastered hearts forsake:  
Blindness, suspicions, wrath possession take:  
Each man unto the fire his Faggot brought,  
And each against another quarrels sought.  
The whirlwind in the North did first arise,  
And raise the dust which troubled English Eyes.  
And though heavens mercy there prevented blood,  
The Irish fury shed a crimson flood.  
The French blood showed the temper of the Nation,  
Their Faith and Faithlesness keep Moderation,  
Their bartholomew's hot dog-days thirst had cost,  

* Thuanus, Davila.  Thirty or forty thousand lives at most.  
But Ireland's Romish Zeal was hotter far,  
And in their preparation to a War,  

* The Earl of Orery's Answer to a Petition.  Two hundred thousand they surprised and slew,  
Not that their Will so small a measure knew.  
But here God checked their Power, & heard the cries  
Of dying Innocents', which pierced the Skies:  
England affrighted by her neighbour's harm,  
Threatened to be the next, takes the Alarm,  
As Citizens that see a raging flame  
Threaten the Neighhours' houses with the same,  
Do leave their Trades, and all together run,  
Trying to quench the Fire where it begun;  
And then pull down the houses which adjoin;  
Some seek to save the goods, some to purloin;  
The well-built Piles, & curious Rooms must down,  
To buy the Safety of the fearful Town,  
A Neighbour's house is used like a Foe's,  
Because the Fire, the Hook, no difference knows,  
Fear pulleth down the next, to save the most,  
And ruins more than needs, lest all be lost.  
Smoak and confused crowds do blind men's eyes,  
All are amazed, with hideous flames and cries;  
So England, too combustible before,  
Seeing so great a flame so near her door,  
Was frighted into such Convulsion Fits,  
As first did break her Peace, and next her Wits.  
Dangers breed fears, and fears more dangers bring:  
The Bees to save their Honey use their Sting;  
Roused in an angry Swarm they seek their Foe,  
The next they meet must feel the smarting blow.   

Caetera desunt, praesunt, adsunt.  
I purposed to have recited the most notable mercies of my Life, in continuing this Hymn of Thanksgiving to my gracious God; but the quality of the Subject, and the Age's Impatience stopped me here, and I could go no further, and my painful and spiritless Age is now unfit for Poetry: And the matter is so large, as would have made the Volume big.     

3. The Resolution.  PSAL. 119. 96. Written when I was Silenced and cast out, etc. 

LORD, I have cast up the Account  
What it will cost to come to thee:  
I find to what it will amount  
A serious Christian to be.  
When Flesh was weighing, thou puttest in  
Thy Love, and the Eternal Crown,  
Against a Feather, and a Sin:  
And yet it thought these weighed thee down.   

Fool, as I was, I took its word,  
And chose what Flesh did recommend:  
How could I more have wronged my Lord?  
Or more his Love and Name offend?  
It had been wiser to have thought,  
The Earth is weighed down by a Fly:  
Than to prefer a thing of nought,  
Before the Love of the Most High.   

I see now what false Scales can do,  
In a deceitful partial hand:  
I will no more believe a Foe;  
But to the holy Covenant stand.   

1.  
Will Friends turn Foes? That cannot be:  
They were my greatest Foes before,  
That would have kept my Soul from thee,  
Their Malice now can do no more.   

I'll bid these cruel Friends farewel:  
Even Satan would be such a Friend;  
He'd please and flatter me to Hell:  
And thither doth their friendship tend.  
He wants not Friends that hath thy Love,  
And may converse, and walk with thee:  
And with thy Saints here and above;  
With whom for ever I must be.   

In the Communion of Saints,  
Is Wisdom, Safety and Delight:  
And when my heart declines and faints,  
It's raised by their Heat and Light.  
Thy Spirit in them speaks and prays:  
Their speech is holy, clean and quick:  
Dead hearted fools talk but of toys:  
Their speech and mirth even makes me sick.   

2.  
Must Lies and slanders me defame?  
That Innocence may not be known?  
Must proud men's malice blot my Name,  
With Epithets that are their own?  
Thou justifi'st when Men accuse,  
Thou'lt answer all the spite of tongues;  
And do them right whom men abuse,  
And plenteously repair their wrongs.   

It's no great matter what Men deem,  
Whether they count me good or bad!  
In their applause and best esteem,  
There's no contentment to be had.  
I stand not to the Bar of Man;  
It's thy displeasure makes me sad:  
My thoughts and actions thou wilt scan:  
If thou approve me I am glad.   

3.  
Must I before the Ruling Power,  
Be called with shame to plead my Cause?  
And judged as an evil doer,  
And as a breaker of their Laws?  
So was the Lord of Life accused,  
Slandered and scorned with cruel spite:  
And as a Malefactor used,  
And one that claimed Caesar's right.   

False witness cloudeth Innocence:  
Truth seemeth conquered by a Lie.  
Patience for bears a just defence;  
And Life itself is judged to die.  
Methinks I see thee clothed with scorn;  
And spit upon, and buffeted;  
And crowned with the piercing Thorn;  
Away to Execution led.   

It most amazeth me to think,  
Thou barest the repute of Sin!  
The bitter Cup which thou didst drink,  
Had nothing bitterer therein.  
The Sun did well to hide his face,  
When Sin did Righteousness eclipse:  
And the most Just is with disgrace  
A Sinner judged by sinners lips.   

Thy steps, Lord, in this dirt I see;  
And lost my Soul from God should stray,  
I'll bear my Cross and follow thee;  
Let others choose the fairer way.  
My face is meeter for the Spit;  
I am more suitable to shame;  
And to the taunts of scornful wit:  
It's no great matter for my Name.   

4.  
Must I be driven from my Books?  
From House, and Goods, and dearest Friends?  
One of thy sweet and gracious looks,  
For more than this will make amends.  
The World's thy Book: There I can read,  
Thy Power, Wisdom, and thy Love:  
And thence ascend by Faith, and feed  
Upon the better things above.   

I'll read thy works of Providence:  
Thy Spirit, Conscience, and thy Rod  
Can teach without book all the sense,  
To know the World, myself, and God.  
Few Books may serve, when Thou wilt teach:  
Many have stolen my precious time:  
I'll leave my Books to hear thee Preach:  
Church-work is best when thou dost chime.   

As for my House, it was my Tent,  
While there I waited on thy Flock:  
That work is done; that time is spent:  
There neither was my Home nor Stock.  
Would I in all my Journey have  
Still the same Inn and Furniture?  
Or ease and pleasant dwellings crave,  
Forgetting what thy Saints endure?   

My Lord hath taught me how to want  
A place wherein to put my head:  
While he is mine, I'll be content,  
To beg or lack my daily bread.  
Heaven is my roof, Earth is my floor:  
Thy Love can keep me dry and warm:  
Christ and thy Bounty are my store:  
Thy Angels guard me from all harm.   

As for my Friends, they are not lost:  
The several Vessels of thy Fleet,  
Though parted now by Tempests tossed,  
Shall safely in the Haven meet.  
Still we are centred all in thee;  
Members though distant, of one Head:  
In the same Family we be  
By the same Faith and Spirit led.   

Before thy Throne we daily meet,  
As Joynt-Petitioners to thee:  
In spirit we each other greet,  
And shall again each other see.  
The Heavenly Hosts world without end  
Shall be my company above:  
And thou my Best and Surest Friend:  
Who shall divide me from thy Love?   

5.  
Must I forsake the Soil and Air,  
Where first I drew my vital breath?  
That way may be as near and fair:  
Thence I may come to thee by death.  
All Countries are my Father's Lands:  
Thy Sun, thy Love doth shine on all:  
We may in all lift up pure hands,  
And with acceptance on thee call.   

Those banished are that go from thee,  
Strange to thy Service, Love and Grace:  
And, lost in sin, do never see  
Thy Kingdom, and thy pleased face.  
May but my Soul dwell near my God,  
And walk with him in Faith and Love,  
No matter where be my abode,  
Till to his Glory I remove.   

6.  
What if in Prison I must dwell?  
May I not there converse with thee?  
Save me from sin, thy wrath, and Hell,  
Call me thy Child; and I am free.  
No walls or bars can keep thee out:  
None can confine a holy Soul:  
The Streets of Heaven it walks about;  
None can its Liberty control.   

Alas, my darkened mind is chained  
To Earth and Flesh through unbelief!  
It looks and longs by distance pained:  
When wilt thou hear and send relief?  
O lose these Chains of Sin and Flesh!  
Enlarge my heart in thy Commands:  
Could I but love thee as I wish,  
How light would be all other bands?   

7.  
Must I feel Sicknesses and smart,  
And spend my days and nights in pain?  
Yet if thy Love refresh my heart,  
I need not overmuch complain.  
This Flesh hath drawn my Soul to sin;  
If it must smart, Thy Will be done!  
O fill me with thy Joys within,  
And then I'll let it grieve alone.   

Then to its sufferings I'll consent  
To be avenged on my Foe,  
That pain may help me to repent,  
And sin may be consumed by woe.  
Pain will be short; Joys will be long.  
Yet, Lord, remember man is weak!  
Drop in thy Cordials: make me strong,  
Lest heart and hope, with Flesh should break.   

8.  
I know my Flesh must turn to dust,  
My parted Soul must come to thee,  
And undergo thy Judgement just,  
And in the endless world must be.  
In this there's most of Fear and Joy,  
Because there's most of Sin and Grace,  
Sin will this mortal frame destroy,  
But Christ will bring me to thy face.   

Here's Faith's great Trial: Pain may force;  
And Pride may willingness pretend;  
A stupid Fool die like his Horse,  
And Heathens make a Beastlike end.  
Frail sinful Flesh is loath to die:  
Sense to the unseen world is strange:  
The doubting Soul dreads the Most High,  
And trembleth at so great a change.   

Yet Faith can see beyond the Skies,  
Where now our Head in Glory is:  
And above Flesh and Sense can rise,  
Unto the World of Saints in bliss.  
Cleansing the Soul from Flesh and Sin,  
Abstracting it from things below;  
It draws the Veil, and entering in,  
Love's glorious Mysteries can know.   

Put forth thy Beams and Hand of Grace:  
Open mine Eyes: Take up my Heart:  
Acquaint it with the Holy Place,  
The Joys and Glory where thou art.  
O let me not be strange at home!  
Strange to the Sun, and Life of Souls:  
Choosing this low and darkened Room;  
Familiar with Worms and Moles!   

Shall I be strange unto my Head?  
The World of Knowledge, Love and Joys?  
Conversing here among the Dead,  
And taken up with Dreams and Toys?  
And strange to Angels, who attend  
On Man, and in his good delight;  
And, though unseen, do us defend;  
Ministering for us day and night?   

Am I the first that go this way?  
How many Saints are gone before?  
How many enter every day  
Into thy Kingdom by this door?  
Christ was once dead, and in a Grave:  
Yet conquered Death, and rose again:  
And by this Method he will save  
His Servants that with him shall Reign.   

Shall I draw back and fear the End  
Of all my Sorrows, Tears and Pain?  
To which my Life and Labours tend,!  
Without which all had been in vain?  
Can I for ever be content  
Without true Happiness and Rest?  
Is Earth become so excellent,  
That I should take it for my best?   

Or can I think of finding here  
That which my Soul so long hath sought?  
Should I refuse those Joys through fear,  
Which bounteous Love so dearly bought?  
All that doth taste of Heaven is good:  
When Heavenly Light doth me inform;  
When Heavenly Life stirs in my Blood;  
When Heavenly Love my Heart doth warm.   

No wonder if Time's womb be straight,  
And Souls through pain and strangeness go  
Into the glorious World of Light,  
Which Death translateth them unto.  
This strangeness will be quickly over,  
When once the Heavenborn Soul is there:  
One sight of God will it recover  
From all this backwardness and fear.   

To us, Christ's lowest parts; his feet,  
Union and Faith must yet suffice,  
To guide and comfort us: It's meet  
We trust our Head who hath our Eyes.  
Christ seeth all that I would see:  
The Way and End to Him are known:  
He hath prepared the Place for me:  
He'll Love and Use me as his Own.   

How many guiltless creatures die,  
To be a feast or food for me?  
Who love their Lives as well as I?  
And hath not God more right to me?  
Must I be privileged alone?  
Or no man Die until he please?  
And God deposed from his Throne,  
And humane generation cease?   

Though all these Reasons I can see,  
Why I should willingly submit,  
And comfortably come to thee;  
My God, thou must accomplish it.  
The Love which filled up all my days,  
Will not forsake me to the end:  
This broken Body thou wilt raise:  
My Spirit I to thee commend.   
Decemb. 3. 1663.   

4. Divine Love's Rest. (Written on Herbet's Poems.)  
THe amorous Needle knows no other REST,  
But at its dear attractive Loadstone's breast.  
Though lying dead before the Potent touch,  
Its Object and Affection were not such.  
The Oily Body married to a Spark,  
Which some cold Flint had locked up in the dark,  
By the unseen Hot Soul is made so bright,  
As if in it that Soul appeared to sight;  
Which in revenge for its restraint and toil,  
Still working up wards, wastes the loving Oil;  
Having a higher Love, is not content,  
Until it reach its proper Element.  
Thus heaven-born Souls, but lately dead in sin;  
By Faith and Love the heavenly Life begin:  
And daily mounting upwards, take their flight,  
From Flesh and Earth unto the World of Light:  
Where Darkness, Sin or Grief shall never enter:  
Where all the Saints are one in God their Centre.  
Where Love reveals itself with open face,  
Ravishing Souls prepared by Saving Grace.  
Love is their Kingdom: it's a world of Love,  
Which they were hatched for by the holy Dove.  
Here he is kindling the celestial fire,  
Which knows its rise, and doth to God aspire;  
God who is all, shall there have all my store;  
And yet my Friends have not the less, but more:  
Love is now panting, groaning in my breast:  
Love will be then my Soul's Eternal Feast.  
Love now salutes us in the Gospel story:  
But then Eternal Love will be our Glory.  
Up then, my Soul, and swiftly Heavenward tend,  
Where Love shall have no check, no bounds, no end.   

5. On David's Psalms.  
MY God since first thy Love this heart did touch;  
It saith, I cannot love my God too much.  
It looketh up, and panteth for that Grace,  
Which may exalt it, and unveil thy face.  
Darkness and Distance are its grievous Chains;  
Sad doubts and fears do feed its griping pains.  
It sighs, and wonders thou canst be so strange;  
Where thou hast freely made so great a change.  
Long it hath searched in hope to find the Art,  
To raise and warm a dull and heavy Heart:  
And now I find it practised by One,  
That now is praising thee before thy Throne.  
Here are the sacred words: Here's David's Lyre:  
But where's the quickening celestial fire?  
I know the Eye of Heaven is on my Heart:  
God looks my Soul should bear the chiefest part.  
It's winged Faith, and flaming Love within,  
That must the pleasant Melody begin:  
The holy Spirit must tune and touch each string;  
Else smoothest Verse will be a harsh dull thing;  
Display thy Love; shoot down thy vital Rays!  
Teach this cold heart the works of Love & Praise!  
O then, what Life and Joy these Psalms will bring,  
When it's thy Spirit, and my Soul that sing!  
And though low strains with stops, are here my best,  
Yet Perfect Love and Praise shall be my REST.   

6. The Threefold Nativity.  
Prima dies hominem peperit, sanctumque secunda  
Natalis: pariet Mors tertia glorificatum.  
MY first Birthday brought forth a Man, in sin:  
But one that could not work, nor go, nor speak.  
My second did a Life of Grace begin,  
But such, alas, as yet's diseased and weak.  
The third from fleshly bonds will me release,  
And bring me to the world of glorious Light:  
Where all my sins and vexing griefs shall cease;  
And Faith shall end in perfect Love and Sight:  
This Death begins; but 'tis the Resurrection,  
That fully shall obliterate sins story;  
And state both Soul and Body in perfection,  
Where Grace and Nature shall be crowned with Glory.  
As Nature taught me first complaining cries,  
Before it did acquaint me with Delight:  
So Grace with grief first filled my Heart and Eyes,  
Before it showed me the joyful sight.  
Why should not Death then be a straighter Door,  
Than either that of Nature or of Grace?  
Which brings us unto the Eternal Store,  
Of Joy and Glory in God's shining face?   

7. Self-Denial.  A Dialogue between the Flesh & the Spirit. Flesh: 
WHat! become Nothing! ne'er persuade me to it.  
God made me Something: and I'll not undo it.  Spirit. 
Thy Something is not thine, but his that gave it.  
Resign it to him, if thou mean to save it.  Flesh. 
God gave me Life: and shall I choose to die  
Before my time? or pine in misery?  Spirit. 
God is thy Life: If then thou fearest death;  
Let him be all thy soul, thy pulse, and breath.  Flesh. 
What! must I hate myself? when as my brot her  
Must love me? and I may not hate another?  Spirit. 
Loath what is loathsome: Love God in the rest;  
He truly love's himself, that love's God best.  Flesh. 
Doth God our ease and pleasure to us grudge?  
Or doth Religion make a man a drudge?  Spirit. 
That is thy Poison which thou callest Pleasure:  
And that thy drudgery which thou countest thy treasure.  Flesh. 
Who can endure to be thus mewed up?  
And under Laws for every bit and cup?  Spirit. 
God's Cage is better than the Wilderness.  
When Winter comes, Liberty brings distress  Flesh. 
Pleasure's man's Happiness: The Will's not free  
To choose our misery: This cannot be.  Spirit. 
God is man's End: with him are highest joys:  
Sensual pleasures are but dreams and toys.  
Should sin seem sweet! Is Satan turned thy friend?  
Will not thy sweet prove bitter in the end?  
Hast thou found sweeter pleasures than God's Love  
Is a fools laughter like the Joys above?  
Beauty surpasseth all deceitful paints:  
What's empty mirth to the delights of Saints?  
God would not have thee have less joy, but more:  
And therefore shows thee the eternal store.  Flesh. 
Who can love baseness, poverty and want?  
And under pining sickness be content?  Spirit. 
He that hath laid his treasure up above  
And placed his portion only in God's love:  
That waits for Glory when his life is done:  
This man will be content with God alone.  Flesh. 
What good will sorrow do us? Is not mirth  
Fitter to warm a cold heart here on earth?  
Troubles will come whether we will or no:  
I'll never banish pleasure, and choose we.  Spirit. 
Then choose not sin: touch not forbidden things:  
Taste not the sweet that endless sorrow brings.  
If thou love pleasure, take in God thy fill:  
Look not for lasting joys in doing ill.  Flesh. 
Affliction's bitter: life will soon be done:  
Pleasure shall be my part ere all be gone.  Spirit. 
Prosperity is barren: all men say  
The soil is best where there's the deepest way.  
Life is for work, and not to spend in play.  
Now sow thy seed: labour while it is day.  
The Huntsman seeks his game in barren plains.  
Dirty land answers best the Ploughman's pains.  
Passengers care not so the way be fair;  
Husbandmen would have the best ground and air  
First think what's safe and fruitful: There's no pleasure  
Like the beholding of thy chiefest Treasure.  Flesh. 
Nature made me a Man, and gave me sense:  
Changing of Nature is a vain pretence:  
It taught me to love women, honour, ease,  
And every thing that doth my senses please.  Spirit. 
Nature hath made thee Rational; and Reason  
Must rule the sense, in ends, degrees and season.  
Reason's the Rider; Sense is but the Horse:  
Which then is fittest to direct thy course?  
Give up the reins, and thou becomest a beast;  
Thy fall at death will sadly end thy feast.  Flesh. 
Religion is a dull and heavy thing,  
Whereas a merry Cup will make me sing.  
Love's entertainments warm both heart and brain:  
And wind my fancy to the highest strain.  Spirit. 
Cupid hath stuck a Feather in thy Cap;  
And lulled thee dead asleep on Venu's lap:  
Thy brains are tippled with some wantoness eyes:  
Thy Reason is become Lust's sacrifice.  
Playing a game at Folly, thou hast lost  
Thy wit, and soul, and winnest to thy cost.  
Thy Soul now in a filthy channel lies,  
While fancy seems to soar above the Skies.  
Beauty will soon be stinking loathsome Earth:  
Sickness and Death mar all the wanton's mirth.  
It is not all the pleasure thou canst find.  
Will countervail the sting that's left behind.  
Blind, brutish Souls! that cannot love their God  
And yet can dote on a defiled clod!  
Why should I think of what will be to morrow?  
An ounce of mirth is worth a pound of sorrow.  Spirit. 
But where's that mirth when sorrows overtake thee?  
Will it then hold when Life and God forsake thee?  
Forgetting Death or Hell will not prevent it:  
Now lose thy day, thou'lt then too late repent it.  Flesh. 
Must I be pained and wronged, and not feel?  
As if my heart were made of flint or steel?  Spirit. 
Dost thou delight to feel thy hurt and smart?  
Would not an Antidote preserve thy heart?  
Impatience is but self-tormenting folly:  
Patience is cordial, easy, sweet and holy.  
Is not that better which turns grief to peace,  
Than that which doth thy misery increase?  Flesh. 
When sport, and wine, and beauty do invite,  
Who is it whom such baits will not incite?  Spirit. 
He that perceives the hook and sees the end,  
Whither it is that fleshly Pleasures tend.  
He that by faith hath seen both Heaven and Hell,  
And what sin costeth at the last can tell:  
He that hath tried and tasted better things,  
And felt that love from which all pleasure springs.  
They that still watch, and for Christ's coming wait,  
Can turn away from, or despise the bait.  Flesh. 
Must I be made the football of disdain?  
And called a precise fool or Puritan?  Spirit. 
Remember him that did despise the shame,  
And for thy sake bore undeserved blame.  
Thy journey's of small moment if thou stay  
Because dogs bark, or stones lie in the way.  
If life lay on it, wouldst thou turn again,  
For the winds blowing or a little rain?  
Is this thy greatest love to thy dear Lord?  
That canst not for his sake bear a foul word?  
Wilt thou not bear for him a scorners breath,  
That underwent for thee a cursed death?  
Is not Heaven worth the bearing of a flout?  
Then blame not Justice when it shuts thee out.  
Will these deriders stand to what they say,  
And own their words at the great dreadful day?  
Then they'd be glad, when wrath shall overtake them,  
To eat their words, and say they never spoke them.  Flesh. 
How? Forsake all! ne'er mention it more to me  
I'll be of no Religion to undo me.  Spirit. 
Is it not thine more in thy Father's hand,  
Then when it is laid out at sins command?  
And is that saved that's spent upon thy lust  
Or which must be a prey to thiefs or rust?  
And wouldst thou have thy riches in thy way,  
Where thou art passing on and canst not stay?  
And is that lost that's sent to Heaven before?  
Hadst thou not rather have thy friends and store,  
Where thou mayst dwell for ever, in the light  
Of that long glorious day that fears no night?  Flesh. 
But who can willingly submit to Death,  
Which will bereave us of our life and breath;  
That lays our flesh to rot in loathsome graves,  
Where brains and eyes were, leaves but ugly caves?  Spirit. 
So nature breaks and casts away the shell,  
Where the now beauteous singing bird did dwell:  
The secundine that once the infant clothed,  
After the birth, is cast away and loathed.  
Thus Roses drop there sweet leaves underfoot;  
But the Spring shows that life was in the root.  
Souls are the Roots of Bodies: Christ the Head  
Is Root of both, and will revive the dead.  
Our Sun still shineth when with us its night:  
When he returns, we shall shine in his light.  
Souls that behold and praise God with the Just,  
Mourn not because their bodies are but dust.  
Graves are but beds where flesh till morning sleeps:  
Or Chests where God a while our garments keeps.  
Our folly thinks he spoils them in the keeping;  
Which causeth our excessive fears and weeping:  
But God that doth our rising day foresee:  
Pities not rotting flesh so much as we.  
The birth of Nature was deformed by sin:  
The birth of Grace did our repair begin.  
The birth of Glory at the Resurrection  
Finisheth all, and brings both to perfection.  
Why should not fruit when it is mellow fall?  
Why would we linger here when God doth call?  Flesh. 
The things and persons in this world I see,  
But after death I know not what will be.  Spirit. 
knowst thou not that which God himself hath spoken?  
Thou hast his promise which was never broken.  
Reason proclaims that noble heaven-born Souls,  
Are made for higher things than Worms & Moles.  
God hath not made such faculties in vain,  
Nor made his Service a deluding pain.  
But Faith resolves all doubts, and hears the Lord  
Telling us plainly by his holy Word,  
That unclothed Souls shall with their Saviour dwell,  
Triumphing over Sin, and Death, and Hell.  
And by the Power of Almighty Love,  
Stars shall arise from graves to shine above.  
There we shall see the glorious face of God:  
His blessed presence shall be our abode:  
The face that banisheth all doubts and fears,  
Shuts out all sins, and drieth up all tears.  
That face which darkeneth the Sun's bright rays,  
Shall shine us into everlasting joys.  
Where Saints and Angels shall make up one Chore,  
To praise the Great Jehovah evermore.  Flesh. 
Reason not with me against sight and sense:  
I doubt all this is but a ●ain pretence.  
Words against Nature are not worth a rush:  
One Bird in hand is worth two in the bush.  
If God will give me Heaven at last, I'll take it:  
But for my Pleasure here I'll not forsake it.  Spirit. 
And wilt thou keep it? brutish flesh how long?  
Wilt thou not shortly sing another Song?  
When Conscience is awakened, keep thy mirth!  
When sickness & death comes, hold fast this earth:  
Live if thou canst when God saith, Come away:  
Try whether all thy friends can cause thy stay.  
Wilt thou tell Death and God, thou wilt not die?  
And wilt thou the consuming fire defy?  
Art thou not sure to let go what thou hast?  
And doth not Reason bid thee then forecast,  
And value the least hope of endless Joys,  
Before known vanities, and dying toys?  
And can the Lord that is most just and wise,  
Found all man's duty in deceit and lies?  
Get thee behind me Satan; thou dost savour,  
The things of Flesh, and not his dearest favour,  
Who is my Life, and Light, and Love, and All,  
And so shall be whatever shall befall.  
It is not thou, but I that must discern,  
And must Resolve: It's I that hold the stern:  
Be silent Flesh; speak not against my God;  
Or else he'll teach thee better by the rod.  
I am resolved thou shalt live and die,  
A servant, or a conquered enemy.  

Lord charge not on me what this rebel says,  
That always was against me and thy ways!  
Now stop its mouth by Grace, that shortly must  
Through just but gainful death, be stopped with dust.  
The thoughts and words of Flesh are none of mine:  
Let Flesh say what it will, I will be thine.  
Whatever this rebellious Flesh shall prate,  
Let me but serve thee Lord, at any rate.  
Use me on earth as seemeth good to thee,  
So I in Heaven thy Glorious face may see.  
Take down my Pride; let me dwell at thy feet:  
The humble are for earth and heaven most meet  
Renouncing Flesh, I Vow myself to thee,  
With all the Talents thou hast lent to me.  
Let me not stick at honour, wealth or blood:  
Let all my days be spent in doing good.  
Let me not trifle out more precious hours;  
But serve thee now with all my strength and powers.  
If Flesh should tempt me to deny my hand;  
Lord these are the Resolves to which I stand,  
Octob. 29. 1659. Richard Baxter.    

8. The Prayer of the Sick, in a Case like hezekiah's.  
To the Tune of the 51 Psalm.  

The First Part.  

1.  
ETernal God, whose name is Love;  
Whose mercy is my hope and stay:  
O hear and help me from above,  
That in distress to thee do pray.  
Ashamed to lift up my face,  
Hence from the dust to thee I cry:  
Though I have sinned against thy Grace,  
Yet unto it alone I fly.   

2.  
I was at first in sin conceived,  
Then lived a vain and sinful life:  
Rebellious flesh which I received  
Is still against thy Grace in strife.  
Long it was Lord, alas too long,  
Before I knew myself or thee:  
Vanity ruled my heart and tongue:  
And O that yet my Soul were free!   

3.  
But while I sinned thou wast kind,  
And sentest thy Word and Spirit of Grace;  
Thy Light did change my darkened mind,  
And showed me my wretched case.  
Though I drew back, thou didst prevail;  
And I gave up myself to thee.  
Thou undertook'st for wind and sail;  
Both Ship and Pilot thou wouldst be.   

4.  
I turned my back on worldly toys;  
And set my face toward Glory's Shore;  
Where thou hast promised highest Joys,  
And Blessedness for evermore.  
I took my leave of Sin and Earth;  
What I had loved, I now did hate;  
Ashamed of my former birth,  
I gave my Life a newer date.   

5.  
But since that time how am I tossed?  
Afraid of every storm and wave:  
Almost concluding I am lost,  
As if thou wouldst not help and save.  
If I look out beyond thine Ark,  
Nothing but raging Seas I see:  
On this side heavens all's deep and dark:  
But I look further unto thee.   

6.  
Censures and scorns, and frowns I hear:  
Storms which before I never found;  
And yet all these I should not fear,  
If all at home were safe and sound.  
But thy displeasure wounds my heart:  
I have but two parts Flesh and Soul:  
Both of thy wrath do bear their part;  
And thou hast left me neither whole.    

The Second Part.  

7.  
All this is just, Lord, I confess;  
I stayed too long ere I came in:  
And how should healing grace do less,  
When I brought with me so much sin?  
Much Pride and Vanity I kept:  
Too oft my heart was looking back:  
Though God stood by me, yet I slept:  
Heaven was at hand; yet I grew slack.   

Spare Lord, and pity thy poor dust!  
That fled into thy Ark for Peace!  
O cause my Soul on thee to trust!  
And do not my distress increase.  
O keep up life and peace within!  
If I must feel thy chastening Rod;  
Yet kill not me, but kill my sin;  
And let me know, thou art My God.   

9  
Folly dwelled in my childish breast;  
Sin robbed me of my youthful days:  
Let not thy wrath cut off the rest,  
And stifle thine intended praise.  
Whilst I forgot thee, thou didst bear:  
Thy kindness did invite me home:  
O rack me not with grief and fear!  
Kill me not Lord, now I am come.   

10.  
The silent Dust speaks not thy fame:  
Nor in dark Graves art thou renowned:  
The living Saints declare thy Name,  
And in thy Church thy Praises sound.  
Yet let me with thy household dwell;  
Though I be numbered with thy Poor:  
And with thy Saints thy Wonders tell,  
Although I sit behind thy door.   

11.  
Set not thy strength against frail man:  
O turn not yet this flesh to Clay!  
My life, thou knowst, is but a span,  
If I should see the longest day.  
Break me not all to pieces Lord;  
Or else, let each piece have a tongue,  
To cry, till thou relief afford;  
But not to say, Thou dost me wrong.   

12.  
Pity this poor unworthy Soul,  
That here devotes itself to thee:  
Resolve my doubts; my fears control;  
And let me thy Salvation see.  
O let that Love which gave me groans,  
And taught my needy Soul to pray,  
Remove my fears, and hear the moans  
Which sorrow breathes forth night and day.    

The Third Part.  

13.  
Why art thou, fainting Soul, cast down?  
And thus disquieted with fears?  
Art thou not passing to thy Crown,  
Through storms of pain, and floods of tears?  
Fear not, O thou of little Faith!  
Art thou not in thy Saviour's hand?  
Remember what his promise saith:  
Life and Death are at his command.   

14.  
To him I did myself entrust,  
When first I did for Heaven embark:  
And he hath proved kind and just:  
Still I am with him in his Ark.  
Couldst thou expect to see no Seas?  
Nor feel no tossing wind or wave?  
It is enough that from all these  
Thy faithful Pilot will thee save.   

15.  
Lord let me not my Covenant break:  
Once I did all to thee resign:  
Only the words of comfort speak,  
And tell my Soul that I am thine.  
It's no Death when Souls hence depart,  
If thou depart not from the Soul:  
Fill with thy Love my fainting heart,  
And I'll not fading flesh condole.   

16.  
Health is but Sickness with thy frowns:  
Life with thy wrath is worse than Death:  
My comforts thy displeasure drowns,  
And into groans tunes all my breath.  
Where is that Faith, and Hope, and Love,  
By which thou markest all thy Saints?  
Thy Joys would all my griefs remove,  
And raise this heart that daily faints.   

17.  
Am I the Ionas? dost thou mean  
To cast me out into the deep?  
It shall not drown, but make me clean:  
Until thou raise me, there I'll sleep.  
O Death! where is thy poisonous sting?  
O Grave! where is thy Victory?  
Thy dust shall shortly rise, and sing  
God's Praise above the Starry Sky.   

18.  
My God, my Love, my Hope, my Life!  
Shall I be loath to see thy face?  
As if this world of sin and strife,  
Were for my Soul a better place?  
O give my Soul some sweet foretaste  
Of that which I shall shortly see!  
Let Faith and Love cry to the last,  
Come Lord, I trust myself with thee.    John 11. 14. or 16. 
O let not unbelieving Thomas words  
Be now my answer: But my dearest Lords.  
Amen.   

9 The Covenant and Confidence of Faith.  
To the common Tunes.  

1.  
My whole, though broken heart, O Lord!  
From henceforth shall be thine:  
And here I do my Vow record:  
This hand, these words are mine.  
All that I have, without reserve,  
I offer here to thee:  
Thy Will and Honour all shall serve,  
That thou bestow'dst on me.   

2.  
All that exceptions save I lose:  
All that I lose I save:  
The treasure of thy Love I choose;  
And Thou art All I crave.  
My God, thou hast my heart and hand:  
I all to thee resign.  
I'll ever to this Covenant stand,  
Though flesh hereat repine.   

3.  
I know that thou wast willing first;  
And then mad'st me consent:  
Having thus loved meat the worst,  
Thou wilt not now repent.  
Now I have quit all Self-pretence,  
Take charge of what's thine own!  
My Life, my Health, and my Defence,  
Now lie on thee alone.   

4.  
Now it belongs not to my care,  
Whether I die or live:  
To love and serve thee is my share:  
And this thy grace must give.  
If life be long, I will be glad,  
That I may long obey:  
If short; yet why should I be sad.  
That shall have the same pay.   

5.  
If Death shall bruise this springing seed,  
Before it come to fruit;  
The Will with thee goes for the Deed;  
Thy life was in the root.  
Long life is a long grief and toil,  
And multiplieth faults:  
In long wars he may have the foil,  
That escapes in short assaults.   

6.  
Would I long bear my heavy load?  
And keep my sorrows long?  
Would I long sin against my God?  
And his dear mercy wrong?  
How much is sinful Flesh my Foe,  
That doth my soul pervert,  
To linger here in sin and woe,  
And steals from God my heart?   

7.  
Christ leads me through no darker rooms,  
Than he went through before:  
He that into God's Kingdom comes,  
Must enter by this Door.  
Come Lord, when Grace hath made me meet,  
Thy blessed Face to see:  
For if thy work on Earth be sweet,  
What will thy Glory be?   

8.  
Then I shall end my sad complaints,  
And weary sinful days;  
And join with the triumphant Saints,  
That sing Jehovah's Praise.  
My Knowledge of that Life is small;  
The Eye of Faith is dim:  
But it's enough that Christ knows all;  
And I shall be with him.   This Covenant my Dear Wife in her former Sickness subscribed with a cheerful will. Joh. 12. 26.  

10. A Psalm of Praise.  
To the Tune of the 148 Psalm.  

1.  
YE holy Angels bright,  
Which stand before God's Throne,  
And dwell in glorious Light,  
Praise ye the Lord each one.  
You there so nigh  
Are much more meet  
Than we the feet,  
For things so high.   

2.  
You blessed Souls at Rest,  
That see your Saviour's face,  
Whose Glory, even the least  
Is far above our Grace;  
God's Praises sound,  
As in his sight,  
With sweet delight,  
You do abound.   

3.  
All Nations of the Earth,  
Extol the World's Great King:  
With Melody and Mirth.  
His glorious Praises sing.  
For he still reigns;  
And will bring low,  
The proudest Foe,  
That him disdains.   

4.  
Sing forth Jehovah's Praise,  
Ye Saints that on him call:  
Magnify him always,  
His holy Churches all:  
In him rejoice;  
And there proclaim  
His Holy Name,  
With sounding voice.   

5.  
My Soul, bear thou thy part:  
Triumph in God above:  
With a well-tuned heart,  
Sing thou the Songs of Love.  
Thou art his own,  
Whose precious Blood  
Shed for thy good,  
His Love made known.   

6.  
He did in Loves begin,  
Renewing thee by Grace;  
Forgiving all thy sin,  
Showed thee his pleased face,  
He did thee heal,  
By his Son's Merit,  
And by his Spirit,  
For Glory Seal.   

7.  
In saddest thoughts and grief,  
In sickness, fears and pain,  
I cried for his relief,  
And it was not in vain.  
He heard with speed;  
And still I found  
Mercy abound,  
In time of need.   

8.  
Let not his Praises grow,  
On prosperous heights alone:  
But in the Vales below,  
Let his great Love be known.  
Let no distress,  
Curb and control,  
My winged Soul,  
And praise suppress.   

9  
Let not the fear or smart,  
Of his chastizing Rod,  
Take off my fervent heart,  
From praising my Dear God.  
What ere I feel,  
Still let me bring  
This Offering,  
And to him kneel.   

10.  
Though I lose friends and wealth,  
And bear reproach and shame;  
Though I lose ease and health,  
Still let me praise God's Name.  
That fear and pain,  
Which would destroy  
My Thanks and Joy,  
Do thou restrain.   

11.  
Though humane help depart,  
And flesh draw near to dust;  
Let Faith keep up my heart,  
To love God true and just:  
And all my days,  
Let no disease  
Cause me to cease  
His joyful Praise.   

12.  
Though sin would make me doubt,  
And fill my Soul with fears:  
Though God seem to shut out,  
My daily cries and tears:  
By no such frost  
Of sad delays,  
Let thy sweet Praise  
Be nipped and lost.   

13.  
Away distrustful care!  
I have thy Promise Lord.  
To banish all Despair,  
I have thy Oath and Word.  
And therefore I  
Shall see thy face,  
And there thy grace,  
Shall magnify.   

14.  
Though Sin and Death conspire,  
To rob thee of thy Praise.  
Still towards thee I'll aspire,  
And thou dull hearts canst raise.  
Open thy Door;  
And when grim Death  
Shall stop this Breath,  
I'll praise thee more.   

15.  
With thy Triumphant Flock;  
Then I shall numbered be,  
Built on th' Eternal Rock,  
His Glory we shall see.  
The heavens so high,  
With Praise shall ring,  
And all shall sing  
In Harmony.   

16.  
The Sun is but a Spark,  
From the Eternal Light:  
It's brightest beams are dark,  
To that most glorious sight:  
There the whole Chore,  
With one accord,  
Shall praise the Lord  
For evermore.    

11. The Complaint.  

WHat mean impatient men to call it Pain?  
That do the creatures wrath alone sustain?  
But, alas! how much greater is my woe,  
That must God's sharp displeasure undergo?  
If a Worm's fury seemeth hard to bear,  
Who dare before an angry God appear?  
I thought my God had blotted out my sin;  
And it no more remembered should have been!  
And wilt thou now call up what's past and gone?  
And charge upon me all that I have done?  
Why then, where is my Saviour ' where's his blood?  
Shall not thy Promises be all made good?  
Where are thy tender bowels? where's that grace?  
That showed me once thy reconciled face?  
Dost thou repent? or can God changed be?  
O no! it's I that falsely turned from thee.   

Yet be not angry with me, O my God  
If thy Child cry, and plead against the Rod;  
Not daring to accuse thy narrow path;  
But humbly bold to deprecate thy wrath.  
Is it thy pleasure to behold my grief?  
When thou canst with a word send full relief?  
Dost thou delight to see me drenched in tears?  
And overwhelmed with doubts and horrid fears?  
Wilt thou stand by and see my Soul thus sink?  
While wasting flesh doth stand at the pits brink?  
Shall grief and sickness leave but skin and bones?  
And shall I know no breath but sighs and groans?  
Have I no passions left but griefs and fears?  
Are groans the only music for thine ears?  
And have I sense only to feel my woe?  
And reason only misery to know?  
And wilt thou suffer sinful unbelief,  
To banish Joy, and keep out all Relief?  
How can that gracious Lord my woe desire?  
That did so much to save me from the fire?  
How can that Saviour be against my good,  
That died in love, and washed me by his blood?  
Can the same voice now pass so sad a doom,  
That from my sin so lately called me home?  
Wilt thou now frown me down to fears & death?  
That lately gav'st me a new life and breath?  
Or can that hand that snatched me from the flame,  
Tear me, and cast me back into the same?   

Pity, my God, this sinking trembling Soul,  
And let the hand that wounds me, make me whole:  
Friends would, but cannot; all their help is vain.  
But thou canst quickly give me joy for pain.  
What can friends do, but make my grief their own?  
And will not give me leave to die alone.  
They can but add their fruitless tears and moans,  
To join in a sad consort with my groans.  
Their pity doth but make my wounds more deep:  
While in compassion they stand by and weep.  
Through me, thou woundest them: my pains are theirs:  
And every tender friend a portion bears.  
They can but pray for that which thou must give:  
They strive in vain if thou wilt not relieve.  
O spare me Lord! and press me not too low:  
Lest I should peevish and impatient grow!  
Lest I should have unworthy thoughts of thee,  
Forgetting what thy Love hath done for me.  
Lest blind distrust get ground against my faith,  
And I grow mindless what thy Promise saith.  
Lest griefs consume the soul which thou hast made,  
And lest thy Praises with my Comforts fade.  
Lest I thine ancient Loves no more rehearse,  
But all my Thanks as a mistake reverse.  
And lest unruly grief should make me break  
Thy holy Laws, and things unseemly speak.  
And lest the Tempter should advantage take,  
The heav'n-built structure of my Hopes to shake.  
Lest I be drawn with Job to curse the day,  
In which my Soul was married to Day!  
Lest this rash tongue thy precious Loves deny,  
And in distress, should call thee Enemy.  
Break not the heart on which thou wrot'st thy Name,  
Lest those blessed Letters perish with the frame.  
Thy Word commands us always to rejoice:  
Fain I would do it, but thou stoppest my voice.  
Can I rejoice, when as thine angry Dart,  
Is piercing night and day my wounded heart?  
Can I rejoice and bleed? Rejoice and die?  
Can I rejoice, when thou dost Joy deny?  
Can I mix night and day? or death and life?  
Or heat and cold? or quietness and strife?  
Or twist the highest joy with deepest sorrow?  
Dwelling near Hell to day, & Heaven to morrow?  
Will joys agree with heavy sighs and groans?  
And sweetest comforts dwell with broken bones?  
When I would rise and sing thy Love's renown,  
Then comes another wave and strikes me down.  
Brimstone and flames methinks upon me rain,  
As if I were adjudged to Sodom's pain.  
O my Dear God why dost thou me forsake?  
And all my bones and heart in pieces shake?  
I took thee for my only Life and Joy:  
O do not now this trembling Soul destroy!   

The Answer.  

WEak Child! why dost thou make all this ado?  
Dost thou remember whom thou speakest to?  
Dost thou consider what thy passion saith?  
Is this the language of a stable Faith?  
Is this thy Patience, and thy Self-denial?  
Wilt thou thus shrink & shake in time of trial?  
May I not with my own do what I list?  
And use my creature as to me seems best?  
Am I not wise enough to use the Rod?  
Wilt thou prefer thyself before thy God?  
Who's fittest to be Ruler? thou or I?  
Whose Wisdom's best? and whose Fidelity?  
When proved I false unto thee? or unkind?  
When didst thou seek aright, and didst not find?  
Look homeward, Man; there dwells thine Enemy▪  
It is thy Self and Sin: It is not l.  
The thing thou shouldst complain of, is within:  
Turn all thy charge against thy Self and Sin.  
Sin is so bad, that it can do no better.  
God cannot fail thee, and remain thy debtor.  
Such intimations should not pass thy tongue,  
As if the Righteous God could do thee wrong.  
Were Conscience but as tender as thy flesh,  
And Sin as grievous to thee as the lash;  
Hadst thou but lived as beseems a Saint,  
I might have spared my Rod, and thou thy Plaint.  
Canst thou suspect I am against thy good,  
When I have proved my Love by streams of blood?  
Have I not loved thee from Eternity?  
And caused my only Son for thee to die?  
Have I not called thee from a life of sin,  
When thousands round about thee live therein?  
Remember how I used thee at the first,  
When in thy blood I found thee at the worst:  
Who gave thee notice of thy sinful state,  
Wakening thy Soul before it was too late?  
Who did convince thee of the worldlings folly?  
And show thee that it's better to be holy?  
Who saved thee from the world's deceits and lies?  
And weaned thee from thy former vanities?  
Who taught thee to bewail thy heavy load?  
And made thee long to know and love thy God?  
If thou art willing that I should be thine,  
It is because at first I called thee Mine.  
I offered Christ: I made thee to consent:  
And in the terms of grace to rest content.  
When thou wast ignorant, who did thee teach?  
And made thee long a higher state to reach?  
Who made thee love and choose the scorned way?  
And cleave to Christ, whatever flesh could say?  
Who made thee pray? and who thy prayer heard?  
And saved thee from the Plagues thy Conscience feared?  
Who made thy sinful heart long to be better?  
Art thou not for all this to me a debtor?  
That thou dost miss me, and my pleased face,  
That thou dost mourn & groan, is from my grace:  
Freely I did forgive thee what was past,  
And all thy deadly sins behind me cast.  
And yet must I be taken for thy Foe?  
And all these accusations undergo?  
After all this, canst thou my love suspect?  
And all my comforts peevishly reject?  
Dar'st thou deny my Love and Grace, as none,  
Because that all the work is not yet done?  
Who wrought that grace? whose should the honour be?  
While thou condemn'st thyself, thou wrongest me.  
Watch and reform, and cheerfully. obey:  
For what thou wantest, wait, and strive, and pray.  
Thy Love and cheerful duty I require:  
It's not thy self-tormenting I desire.  
Humbly look back: remember what thou wast:  
Be not unthankful for the grace thou hast.  
Deny it not, but wait at mercy's door:  
Thankfulness is the way to get thee more.  
If thou art weak, look upto Christ thy strength:  
He'll perfect what he hath begun at length:  
Is not his grace sufficient for thee still?  
He'll give the rest, that freely gave the Will:  
If thou stand still, or loiter in thy Race;  
And if my Spur do bid thee, mend thy pace;  
Let not the smart make thee lie down and whine,  
And at the needful quickening Rod repine:  
But, Up; Repent; cheerfully do thy best:  
The day's at hand, when thou shalt have the Rest.    

The Submission.  

FAther, forgive my passion and rash words:  
Yet I'll be thine: I'll own no other Lords.  
Seeing thou wilt accept so frail a Worm,  
That can without thee no good thing perform;  
Still I'll be thine, and stand to what I said,  
When I my Covenant and Resignment made.  
I'll rather groan within, and suffer more,  
Than laugh with them that stand without thy door.  
O let thy Will attract and perfect mine!  
Hereafter not My Will be done, but Thine.  
And let the roughest way seem fair and even,  
That hath thy presence, and doth lead to Heaven.  
And as thou bidst me, Evermore Rejoice,  
Give me a joyful heart, and praising voice.  
Suffer not sin to soil thy grace and me;  
But make me such as thou wouldst have me be.  
Let streams of Love flow from thy open breast:  
And let me wait, and long to feel the REST.     

12. The Return.  
To the Tune of Pas. Mes. Galliard:  
OR,  
The common Psalm Tunes.  

1.  
WHO was it that I left behind,  
When I went last from home?  
That now I all disordered find,  
When to myself I come?   

2.  
I thought I had the door fast locked,  
When I went last away:  
And long might strangers there have knocked,  
If none had found my Key.   

3.  
When I was here the fire did burn,  
That now is almost out:  
Half dead with cold I sit and mourn,  
Perplexed with many a doubt.   

4.  
I left it light, but now all's dark,  
And I am fain to grope:  
Were it not for one little spark,  
I should be out of hope.   

5.  
The Rooms I carefully did sweep;  
But now I find all foul:  
Serpents do crawl, and Vermine creep,  
In my polluted Soul.   

6.  
My Gospel-Book I open left,  
Where I the Promise saw:  
But now I doubt it's lost by theft,  
I find none but the Law.   

7.  
And when my Soul I had undressed,  
And thought some ease to find:  
I found distress instead of rest,  
Through anguish of my mind.   

8.  
For Thorns were put into my Bed,  
Where I was wont to sleep:  
Grief is the pillow for my head,  
On which I lie and weep.   

9  
And if I slumber, up I start:  
My dreams awake my fears:  
The thorns have pierced head and heart;  
And drawn forth more than tears.   

10.  
The stormy Rain an entrance hath,  
Through the uncovered top:  
How should I rest when showers of wrath  
Upon my conscience drop?   

11.  
My goods I fear are gone to waste:  
The best I cannot find:  
The rest are in disorder cast:  
Which yet are left behind.   

12.  
I locked my Jewel in my Chest:  
I'll search lest that be gone:  
If this one Guest had quit my breast,  
I had been quite undone.   

13.  
I know its Sin that did all this:  
For nothing else could do it:  
I'll charge upon it all I miss,  
And with the Law pursue it.   

14.  
My treacherous flesh hath played its part,  
And opened Sin the Door:  
And they have spoiled and robbed my heart,  
And left it sad and poor.   

15.  
How shall I see my Landlord's face?  
How shall I pay his Rent?  
When I have thus abused his grace;  
And have his Treasure spent?   

16.  
Yet have I one great trusty friend,  
That will procure my Peace;  
And all this loss and ruin mend,  
And purchase my release.   

17.  
When I the Prodigal had played,  
And all my Portion spent;  
He told me he my Debts had paid,  
And bade me but Repent.   

18.  
Yea this by his supply was done:  
Whose Covenant bade me do it.  
Because I had not of my own,  
So much as would serve to it.   

19  
And after this when my false heart,  
Forgot my Dearest Lord;  
He did perform a Saviour's part,  
And still my Soul restored.   

20.  
I feared lest as but once he died,  
He would but once forgive:  
But still when in distress I tried,  
He did my Soul relieve.   

21.  
Still when He took me by the hand,  
My Father on me smiled:  
Oft have I broken his Command,  
And yet he called me Child.   

22.  
I know his Power: And for his Love,  
It spoke by pains and blood:  
Largely doth he his kindness prove,  
And make his Promise good.   

23.  
Therefore I'll never more despair,  
Nor take myself for lost:  
For he will all my loss repair,  
Though at the dearest cost.   

24.  
Yea more, I have his hand to show,  
That when my Lease is out,  
A Kingdom he'll on me bestow;  
He chides me if I doubt.   

25.  
I'll trust on him, and use his Name,  
Whatever be my need:  
And I shall scape the wrath and shame,  
And shall be sure to speed.   

26.  
And for that sin that played the Thief,  
I'll stop its poisonous breath;  
Or pine it with consuming grief,  
And famish it to death.   

27.  
And I'll take heed for time to come,  
Of wandering abroad,  
With my best constant friend at home,  
I'll settle mine abode.   

28.  
The Bellows I'll yet take in hand:  
Till this small spark shall flame.  
Love shall my heart and tongue command,  
To praise God's holy Name.   

29.  
Once more I mean to sweep all clean,  
And cast out filthy sin:  
And Christ again I'll entertain,  
And wait on him within.   

30.  
I'll mend the Roof: I'll watch the Door,  
And better keep the Key:  
I'll trust my treacherous Flesh no more,  
But force it to obey.   

31.  
I'll make a Covenant with my eyes;  
My tongue shall know its Law:  
I'll all the baits of sin despise,  
And keep my heart in awe.   

32.  
My Bed shall be made soft by Love;  
And there I'll take my rest:  
Or else I'll wake till I remove,  
Where none dwell but the Blessed.   

33.  
What have I said? That I'll do this?  
That am so false and weak?  
And have so often done amiss,  
And did my Covenants break?   

34.  
I mean, Lord, All this shall be done,  
If thou my heart wilt raise.  
And as the work must be thine own;  
So also shall the Praise.    

12. The Lamentation Jan. 18. 1660/ 1.  
For Sin afflicting the Sinner; especially by the grievous sufferings of Friends.  
With the Relief of the Self-condemning Soul.  

O Mercy, Mercy, Mercy! O my God  
Must I feel nothing but thy smarting Rod?  
Must I be daily on the rack of sears?  
And have no drink to quench my thirst but tears?  
Where is the Spring that feeds this bitter stream?  
That stops not, either when I wake or dream?  
These Worms of Fear and Grief, whose food I am,  
Into the world as brethren with me came:  
Youthful diversions cast them once asleep,  
But Light awakened them to bite more deep.  
Since then, I lived between thy Book and Rod;  
And in thy School of Discipline abode:  
Sometimes thy gentle twigs touched but the skin:  
Sometimes thy sharper strokes did enter in:  
Most of them fell but on my outward part:  
But now they pierce, they wound, they kill my heart.  
Spare Lord! I sigh, I groan, I weep, I cry!  
O spare! before I bleed, I sink, I die!  
O spare the Heart! or wound none but mine own!  
And let me sigh, and weep, and mourn alone!  
It's I that sinned: these Sheep what have they done?  
I sinned but with One Heart: O break but One!  
Shall I that have extolled thy people's Joys,  
And told men of the sweetness of thy ways;  
Now by my plaints and dolours make them think,  
Thou giv'st us Gall and Vinegar to drink.  
Set me not as a spectacle of wrath,  
To frighten comers from the holy path.   

Be silent flesh! my God is Wise and Just;  
Hast thou not sinned? stoop and kiss the dust.  
If Passion did not blind thee, thou mightst see,  
Justice is good, even when it falls on thee.  
It is not causeless, if he pierce the Heart:  
He doth but choose the foul, the guilty part.  
Had not the door been opened first to sin,  
Terror and sorrows could not have got in:  
If it have room for thoughts of Pride and Just;  
That trouble should dwell with them, is but just.  
Where should the tent be put, but in the wound?  
We cleanse the ulcerous part, and not the sound.  
Where should Jehovah's battering Cannons play,  
But at the Fortress where his Enemy lay?  
Thence came the viperous brood; there was the root  
Of all the bitter, poisonous, deadly fruit.  
There God should have been entertained in Love.  
His Will as End & Spring each wheel should move.  
But how unkindly was he there abused?  
His tender Love and healing Grace refused?  
Oft have I shut the door when he hath come;  
I played, or slept, or would not be at home.  
Should God be slighted by a stubborn Heart,  
And not rebuke its folly by its smart?  
I sinned and laughed; I lightly passed it over:  
Should God do so, and not his wrath discover?   

Just is the Lord: My sin hath found me out.  
I find his threaten true beyond all doubt:  
What have I done! All's now to Conscience known:  
It's deep remorse, tells me, What I have done.  
What have I done! It's graven all in Stone:  
This heart of flint, feels now, What I have done.  
What have I done! my pained flesh and bone,  
Cry out with anguish, O what have I done!  
What have I done! I see, I feel, I groan!  
The sad effects proclaim, What I have done.  
What have I done! My friend's distress and moan,  
Cry to me night and day, This thou hast done.   

Melt sinful heart, and spare not! welcome grief!  
Away delights! I'll none of your relief.  
Show me the Wilderness, the secret Cell,  
Where grief and I may still together dwell!  
Where Hills and Woods may echo all my groans,  
And hearers may not interrupt my moans!  
Where mortal Eyes may see no more the face,  
Which folly hath confounded with disgrace.  
Where I may Die alive, and Live in Death;  
And spend in Lamentation all my breath.  
Seeing deceitful heart-tormenting sin  
So cunningly is crept and woven in:  
Break it in pieces, turn this Heart to dust;  
Melt out the dross; purge out the filth and rust.   

Spare not the Lance: Or if that will do good,  
Drench it in tears: Stop not this brinish flood!   
Jesus.  
Peace troubled Soul! I'll wash it in my blood.  
Woman, why weepest thou? was the first word,  
After his Rising, spoken by our Lord,  
To which his Angel's Preface did accord.  
John 20. 13. 15.  

The Relief.  Jesus. 
PEace troubled Soul! It's not thy brinish flood,  
Nor troubling Passions that must do thee good:  
Come! freely drank, and bathe thee in this Blood.  Sinner. 
What I? so vile a wretch! it cannot be!  
Alas! I fear it was not shed for me!  Jesus. 
Yea even for thee: So far 'twas shed for all,  
That they may come and welcome, at my Call.  Sinner. 
Alas Lord! I have trampled on thy Blood,  
And thy Reproofs, and Calls of Grace withstood.  Jesus. 
And yet I call thee: Take my Mercy yet:  
I'll answer for thee: I have paid thy debt.  Sinner. 
What mine! that have provoked thee so long?  
And done thy Blood and Spirit so much wrong?  Jesus. 
I died for Enemies: It is my Glory,  
To wash foul hearts, and blot out all their story.  Sinner. 
What! one so long! so terrible! so sad!  
Love one so hateful! pardon one so bad!  Jesus. 
Hast thou such sins as I cannot forgive?  
Or any wants which I cannot relieve?  Sinner. 
I know thy Blood can wash away my guilt:  
I doubt not, thou canst heal me, if thou wilt.  Jesus. 
How hath my Will deserved thy suspicion,  
When I have made Acceptance the condition?  
Consent, and all is thine: My Gift is free:  
The purchase is not to be made by thee.  Sinner. 
● know what thou wilt do, shall sure be done:  
●ut some God hates: I fear that I am one.  Jesus. 
And must the Love declared at such a rate,  
So veiled by the suspicion of Hate?  
For this I came to Men from God above,  
To manifest his great abundant Love:  
Mark what my Doctrine, Life and Death intend:  
This is their principal design and end:  
God's Power and Skill,  
But chiefly his Great Mercy and Good Will.  Sinner. 
Yet he will save none but his own Elect:  
Not those that his Salvation neglect.  Jesus. 
My Promise, and thy Duty, thou may'st see;  
But canst not search the depth of God's Decree.  
Mercy entreats thee: here it's brought unto thee:  
Take it, and God's Decree shall not undo thee.  
All are Elect that do not to the last  
Refuse me, and my Grace behind them cast.  Sinner. 
This I have done, and fear I shall do still,  
Till I the measure of my sins fulfil.  
Though God be Love itself, I shall have none:  
I fear my Day of Grace is past and gone.  
Methinks I feel, Grace doth my Soul forsake:  
Thy Holy Spirit thou dost from me take.  Jesus. 
Here thou art yet alive; my Grace attends thee;  
And from the jaws of Death and Hell defends thee.  
Satan would fain at once thy Soul devour:  
What dangers dost thou walk in every hour?  
Yet thou art safe, and hearest the Preacher's voice  
Come, close with Mercy, and Heaven will rejoice.  
Dost thou not feel my Spirit still contend?  
And tell thee what it is that thou must mend?  
If yet thou'lt be but willing to be mine;  
I and my Benefits will sure be thine.  
I seek; I knock; thou findest I have not done:  
Yet dost thou say, thy Day of Grace is gone?  Sinner. 
O but I have a Heart as hard as Steel!  
I see my misery, but cannot feel!  Jesus. 
Fully to feel what thou deserv'st, is Hell.  
What measure's best, it's I that best can tell.  Sinner. 
I can scarce weep a tear for sin: This Heart  
Was never melted yet by all thine Art!  
Sure it's a sign my Day of Grace is gone,  
When this unhumbled Heart remains a Stone.  Jesus. 
Consent but to my Covenant, and be sure,  
The remnant of thy Hardness I will cure.  
I'll put a tender heart into thy breast:  
Believe in me, and I'll forgive the rest.  
It is no Mortal Hardness, if thou choose  
My Covenant; and dost not me refuse.  
Shouldst thou but fully feel thy sin, thou'dst die:  
None could sustain so great a load but I.  
I felt it for thee: Leave it to my care,  
To wound or heal; to break, afflict or spare.  Sinner. 
My sin, my wants my misery is such.  
That I can never feel and grieve too much.  Jesus. 
Such breaking's good as breaks the heart of sin:  
And maketh way for Love to enter in.  
But not the grief that only breaketh ease,  
Weakening the Soul, and strengthening the Disease.  
Hinder not Love and Joy; but grieve in measure:  
My Blood, and not thy Tears, must be thy Treasure.  Sinner. 
Indeed my purest streams are too impure:  
And cannot thy severity endure.  
The grief of an impatient selfish spirit,  
Cannot thy Pardon or Acceptance merit.  
But if this hardened Heart do not relent,  
And so great sin and misery lament,  
How canst thou smile on such a brazen face,  
As never felt the want and worth of grace?  Jesus. 
Whence 〈◊〉 I this complaining language hear,  
If neither want nor worth of grace appear?  
I'll save thee, if but so far thou Repent,  
As to my Gospel-Covenant to consent.  
Wilt thou be healed? Truly say, I will,  
And trust the cure on thy Physician's skill.  Sinner. 
O there's my sin and woe! though Grace be free  
I cannot take thy Grace, or come to thee.  
My heart is hardened; I cannot repent:  
My Will's enthralled; I cannot consent.  
This will condemn me at the dreadful day:  
I may have Life, but will not when I may.  Jesus. 
Art thou not willing? why then dost thou crave it?  
Dost thou complain for grace, & wouldst not have it?  
If thou hadst rather be ungodly still,  
It seems thou speakest all this against thy will.  Sinner. 
Would not the worst of men be saved from Hell?  
And in delight and endless pleasure dwell?  
But to be Holy I have no desire,  
But as a means to keep me from Hell fire.  
When I seem to do good, or ill forbear,  
It is not out of Love, but slavish fear.  
All my Religion is but from Self-love:  
I find no pleasure in the things above.  Jesus. 
Natural Love of Self is the foundation  
Which Grace builds on, and useth for Salvation.  
He that loves not himself, loves not another:  
It's as thyself that thou must love thy Brother.  
Thy own Salvation is the lawful end,  
Which Grace and Nature bind thee to intend.  
Why was I made man, but for man's Salvation?  
I suffered Death to hinder thy Damnation.  
These are the ends for which thou must believe:  
Life through a Saviour's that thou must receive.  
●t's Carnal Self that wicked men do love:  
The Lawful Love of Self they'll not improve.  
They all prefer sin's pleasure for a season;  
Their fleshly appetite doth rule their Reason.  
Me and my healing Grace they will not have;  
They'll not endure that Mercy should them save.  
They hate the Light that would their sin display,  
And would direct them in the holy way:  
Though they fear Hell, they always fear much more  
The loss of honour, pleasure, health or store.  
No fear of Hell will take their Idol down,  
And make them seek first the Eternal Crown.  
The Fear of God is Wisdom's true beginning:  
It calls to Duty, and preserves from sinning:  
God must be feared, as one that can destroy  
The Soul, and shut it out of endless Joy.  
The Fear of God's the Just man's Character:  
They fear not God indeed that wished are.  
God would be feared as a consuming fire:  
This is no sin but what he doth require.  
Love may lie hidden as a covered seed;  
When Fear in troubling Passion doth exceed.  
If angry Parents make the Child afraid,  
He feels not Love, till Passion be allayed.  
Excessive Fear may hinder active Love,  
And yet the 〈…〉 not 〈◊〉:  
When God's rebukes and frowns the Soul affright,  
It may dispose his Children unto flight.  
Where Love is true, some Hatred may arise,  
When terrors and despair the Soul surprise.  
A loving Child will not his Father own,  
When through mistake or distance he's unknown.  
The pleasing part of Love cannot appear,  
Under prevailing Grief, and too much Fear:  
Until the Soul be calmed, and these abate,  
Love is oppressed, and seemeth turned to hate.  
But doth not Love appear in thy Desire?  
Wouldst thou not Love God more? & fain get higher?  
Would it not please thee more if thou couldst find  
His Image clearly printed on thy mind,  
His Love and Spirit dwelling in thy heart,  
Then of this World to have the choicest part?  
Wouldst thou not have a heart that can Repent,  
And hate sin more, and tenderly relent?  
A heart more fit to Meditate and Pray?  
And walk exactly, and God's Laws obey?  
A clearer Light, which may God's mind reveal?  
More life and feeling? greater heat of Zeal?  
A stronger Faith to live on things above,  
Where endless Praise shall be the breath of Love?  Sinner. 
Whether I should desire these I doubt,  
If possibly I could be saved without.  Jesus. 

What's Grace for, but to bring thee to Salvation?  
To heal thy Soul, and keep thee from Damnation?  
Wilt thou its Nature and its Use destroy,  
And then conceit thou dost it not enjoy?  
Think on't, as that which doth Salvation bring,  
Or else thou mak'st it quite another thing.  
Grace were not Grace if it did not intend  
Thy Happiness and Glory as its End.  
The means is nullified by separation  
From the just End to which it hath relation.  
What do men trade for but their lawful wealth?  
And what is Food and Physic for but Health?  
Look not on Grace in one divided notion:  
But the concordant perfect frame and motion:  
Take not one single part, but view the whole,  
As it's the Health and Beauty of the Soul;  
The Life, the Strength, the Glory, the Delight,  
And that which makes it lovely in God's sight;  
The honour, safety, gain, and true content;  
And that which must the pains of Hell prevent:  
Take these as undivided; all in one;  
And view not one disjointed part alone:  
If all together seem a choicer treasure  
Than worldly gain, and sinful fading pleasure,  
And turn the scales in thy deliberation;  
Then doubt not of thy Title to Salvation.   

But dost thou not desire that God would love thee?  
And make thee just and lovely, and approve thee?  
Wouldst thou not see his face in Glorious Light,  
And there sing Allelujah 's in his sight?  
And love him perfectly world without end,  
More dear than thou lov'st thy dearest friend?  
Where thou shalt be replenished with joy,  
And no disturbance shall thy Soul annoy?  
Where no temptation, sin or grief shall come:  
Where my own Love and Joy shall be thy home,  
Abiding with the Host of Heaven always,  
In the sweet Music of Jehovah 's Praise.  
This Glorious Life with God, thou must love best:  
Yet as thy own Felicity and Rest:  
In Union and Fruition of a Friend,  
Not one, but both the Lovers are the End.  
And hast thou no Desire or Will to this?  
Wouldst thou not live with God in endless bliss?   Sinner. 
Some cold Desires of Heaven the worst may have:  
But dreaming lazy Wishes will not save.  Jesus. 
Judge by these three for ending all the strife:  
Thy Estimation, Choice, and Bend of Life.  
These fleshly pleasures stand in competition:  
Know which thou Choosest as thy best Condition.  
If thou the Everlasting sure Reward,  
More than sins fading pleasures dost regard;  
If GOD and thy Salvation be the part,  
Whose Interest stands highest in thy Heart;  
If thus his Kingdom thou first seek and crave;  
Both it, and all things needful thou shalt have.  Sinner. 
I fear I do not these thy terms fulfil;  
And have not truly a Consenting Will:  
Because so great averseness I still find,  
To God and Holiness upon my mind;  
Such deadness to Believe, Love, and Repent,  
That there seems more of Hatred than Consent.  
Necessity and Reason use a force  
Against my Will and Nature's bent and source.  Jesus. 
No man can conquer and obtain Salvation,  
But by resisting carnal inclination.  
Fleshly desires run with speedy course,  
And need not Faith's or Reason's help and force.  
Earthward you sink propensly as a cold;  
But not so easily ascend to God.  
One motion's downward; th' other's all uphill;  
Against the bias of the carnal will.  
Too much of flesh remaineth in the best:  
Some enmity to good sticks in their breast:  
Something of Hatred, even to God and Grace,  
Contends with Love, and troubleth your race.  
In the most mortified, the flesh yet liveth,  
And constantly against the Spirit striveth:  
You cannot hear, read, meditate, or pray,  
Or any thing that's good, think, do, or say;  
But Flesh makes war, and stiffly doth resist,  
And would prevail, did not my Grace assist.  
Conflict and Conquest of this inbred Foe,  
Must be the way of all the good you do.  
The Question is not, Whether Flesh do strive?  
But, Whether after Flesh or Spirit you live?  
It is not opposition that will prove  
That thou art void of Faith, or Hope, or Love.  
The Law that's in thy Members will still find  
Weapons against the Law that's in thy Mind:  
The Flesh will so rebel, and put thee to it,  
That when thou wouldst do good, thou canst not do it.  
There's in one breast a twofold Will and Heart,  
Actingreach of them a contrary part:  
There is a Will to Good, and Will to evil:  
One's Ruled by God, the other by the Devil.  
A Will to read, and pray, and meditate;  
A Will that doth all this oppose and hate.  
Do not now stand and whine, nor yield, nor fly;  
But use thy weapons: thou must fight or die.  
Now live by Faith: Be glad thou hast a Christ,  
Whose Spirit fortifies thee to resist:  
Making the greatest things thy chiefest scope;  
Keeping alive a secret spark of Hope;  
Which will not only strive, but overcome;  
And through all Foes will safely bring thee home.  Sinner. 
But how can I find favour in thy sight,  
That have sinned wilfully even in the Light?  Jesus. 
Though they that wholly to the last reject  
My Sacrifice, no other can expect;  
All kind of sin is pardoned by my Merit,  
Save the grand blasphemy against the Spirit.  Sinner. 
Alas! this is the thing that I fear most,  
Lest I have thus blasphemed the Holy Ghost!  Jesus. 
No man that fears, or thinks he hath this sin,  
Hath ever truly guilty of it been.  
For they deny me all to be the Lord,  
Think it no sin to violate my Word.  
They set themselves against me with despite,  
And justify the sin which they commit.  Sinner. 
But wilt thou take this, Lord, for true Consent,  
From a hard heart that can no more relent?  
From one that loveth thee no more than I?  
That is constrained by Necessity?  
And while he thus subscribeth to thy Will,  
Knowingly crosseth it, and sinneth still?  Jesus. 
If thou Consent, it's Good that doth thee move:  
And to Consent to Good, is truly Love.  
Believe if thou wouldst Love: And in my face,  
God's Love and Grace.  
If His abounding Love thou didst but know,  
Thy heart with Love to him would everflow.  
Love kindleth Love; but Faith must hold the Glass!  
This sight would win thy heart before thou pass.  
He that will Love God, must not think him Evil;  
Nor paint him in his fancy like the Devil.  
Satan will make thee fly from God with hate,  
If he can make thee throughly desperate.  
Think'st thou to find thy Love, before by Faith  
Thou'lt come to Me? and hear what Mercy saith?  
Thou may'st as wisely search for marks to prove  
Thou lovest God, before thou wilt him love.  
Believe, Consent, Give up Thyself to Me;  
And I will give myself and Spirit to thee;  
I will enable thee to do the rest;  
And take the stony heart out of thy breast:  
I'll put God's Fear and Love into thy heart,  
That thou may'st never more from him depart.  
I'll quench the flames of thy corrupt desire,  
And save thee from God's wrath, and from Hell fire.  Sinner. 
And wilt thou pardon all the crimson sin,  
Of which my wilful heart hath guilty been?  Jesus. 
Have I not told thee I will pardon all?  
Hast thou sinned more than raging bloody Soul?  
Or than Manasseh 's long and matchless flood  
Of Witchcraft, Rage, Idolatry and Blood?  
That yet was pardoned when he did return,  
And in his Prison-Irons pray and mourn.  
Trust Me, Subscribe My Covenant and be Mine,  
And I and All My Benefits are Thine.  Sinner. 
O wondrous Love! where this is kindly felt,  
The heart must needs with Love & Sorrow melt!  
Wilt thou accept so vile a wretch as I?  
I'll cast myself upon thee, live or die.  
My Soul and Body here to Thee I tender:  
All that I called Mine, I Here Surrender.  
To this Consent here I subscribe my Hand,  
Whatever Changes come, to this I stand:  
Not by my strength: I trust on Thee, My Lord!  
That for performance, thou wilt Grace afford.  
January 26. 1660/ 1.    

13. Upon the sight of Mr. VINES His Posthumous TREATISE OF THE SACRAMENT, October 18. 1656. Who Died a little before.  

WHile thou grew'st here, thy fruit made glad  
The hearts that sin and death made sad:  
Lest we should surfeit of thy fruit,  
Thy Life retired to the Root.  
Desiring with us first to keep,  
A Passover before thy sleep 
* He died suddenly on the Lord's Day at night, after he had Preached and Administered the Sacrament. ;  
Weary of Earth, thou took'st thine Ease,  
Passing into the Land of Peace:  
The threatened Evil we foresee,  
But hope to hide ourselves with Thee.  
Though thou art gone, while we must fight,  
We'll call it Victory, not Flight.  
When God hath taken up this VINE,  
We thought no more to taste its Wine,  
Till in the Land of Salem's King,  
We drink it new, even from the Spring:  
But unexpectedly we find,  
Some Clusters which are left behind:  
This Mantle from thy Chariot fell;  
We know it by the pleasant smell:  
Who knows but from this little seed,  
Some more such fruitful Vines may breed?  
The Tree of Death bears precious Fruit,  
Though in the Earth it have no Root.   

Dear Brother! thou art gone before,  
And I a wretch wait at the door!  
Sin doth not only keep me thence,  
But makes me loath to go from hence:  
When Christ hath healed me of this sin,  
And made me fit; he'll let me in:  
Till then, may I but in a Glass,  
See what you see with open face;  
Sure it will raise my heavy Soul,  
And these distrustful fears control!  
And make me willing to be gone,  
As knowing Whither, and to Whom:  
If Time be Nothing, as some say,  
You that were with us yesterday,  
Are with us still; or we with you;  
Which is the better of the two.  
The Soul embodied in those lines,  
Doth make us say, that, This is VINES:  
And if our hearts with you could be;  
Our Lord would say, that there are we.  
But as according to desert,  
The Heavens have got thy better part;  
And left us but some of the Wine,  
Whilst they have taken up the Vine:  
So we look up, and wait, and pray,  
And yet still feel, we live in Clay.  
Here we are keeping sin's account,  
While some small sparks do upward mount,  
Crying [How long, Holy and True!]  
Till we are taken up to you.  
Thus also we must follow LOVE 
* Mr. Anthony Burgess was Minister at Laurence Church: Mr. Love succeeded him, and was beheaded by the Remnant of the Long Parliament, which cut off the King, for sending Money to some about the present King Mr. Vines succeeded him. ,  
To find our HEAD and LIFE above.  
He that is made by the New-Birth,  
A BURGESS of the Church on Earth,  
And then by Faith can rise so high,  
In Divine LOVE to Live and Die,  
Shall be translated to your soil,  
Removed from sin, and fear, and toil;  
And from this House of Worms and Moles,  
Unto that Element of Souls.  
Where every Branch becomes a VINE;  
And where these Clods like Stars will shine:  
God is not there known by the Book:  
You need not there the Pruning Hook:  
There you have Wine without the Press;  
And God his Praise without Distress.  
There we shall find our Eyes and Sight,  
When we come to our Head and Light.  
The Kernel is where you now dwell,  
And we here strive about the Shell:  
You have the Reconciling Light,  
Who are past Faith, and live by Sight:  
No wonder then if you are One,  
When Peace from Earth is almost gone:  
We crowd about a little Spark,  
Learnedly striving in the Dark;  
Never so bold as when most Blind;  
Run fastest when the Truth's behind.  
No Heresies with you are sown:  
There's not a Truth but all will own:  
A mixture we get here by rote;  
And Error keeps the major Vote.  
There Pride and Faction cannot enter.  
There's no Division in the Centre.  
The Saints there play not Satan's part;  
They use not any Carnal Art,  
Their Righteous Brethren to Defame;  
And by untruths to blot their Name.  
There you are Comely, and not Black:  
Each One hath All, yet None do lack.  
What sin or smart can you befall,  
Where SELF's put off, and God is All.   

Look up and see, now VINES is gone;  
Are not the Stars the more by One?  
No: but One fewer in our sight;  
For we have forfeited his Light.  
And such an One, as all do miss,  
Save those whose pleasure darkness is.  
And who can Number Stars above;  
When Saints so fast to Heaven remove?  
If but three such in all our times,  
As USHER, GATAKER and VINES,  
Were taken hence by fatal sleep;  
Three Nations should consent to weep.  
And if an Age this loss repair;  
The Church will think it very fair.  
They shine in Glory now to God,  
Who shined and burned here to a Clod.  
May such a sinful Worm as I,  
Aspire and ascend so high!  
That Kingdom's mine in Hope and Right,  
Which you possess by Love and Sight.  
That God, that Christ hath loved me,  
Whose Glory blessed VINES doth see:  
We were both washed in one stream:  
And both enlightened by one beam:  
One Garment also did us clothe:  
At once One Pulpit held us both 
* Those that saw me stand in his Pulpit at Laurence Church between his Legs, when I Preached for him, because he could get no other Room in the Church, understand this. ;  
Much more One Church: for we agreed,  
Both in One Method, and one Creed.  
One Evil we did both condole 
† See his Letter in the end of my Confession. ,  
As animated by One Soul:  
Methinks where thou art, I should be;  
Although the lowest in degree.  
Though thou art gone, and I am here;  
Yet is my Passing-hour near:  
Time is at work both Night and Day,  
Even when it seemeth to delay:  
My Grave and Coffin are at hand:  
My Glass hath but a little Sand:  
Now I am writing; and anon  
They'll also say of me, He's gone.  
Then I shall see the shining face,  
Which is the Glory of your Place.  
But lest in vain I hope and run,  
Lord perfect what thou hast begun.    

14. A Dialogue between Death and the Believer.  
A Rustic Song, set to a pleasant Tune.  Death. 

COme with me poor Mortal,  
Quickly come away:  
My Name is Dreadful Death.  
Through this narrow Portal.  
Come without delay;  
For here I'll stop thy Breath.  
Presently my Dart  
Shall pierce thee to the Heart,  
And away thy Life I'll have:  
It is in vain to fly,  
Or any Friend to try:  
For there's none that can thee save.   Believer. 

2.  
Welcome friendly Death;  
What canst thou do to me,  
‛ That I have cause to fear?  
Though thou shalt stop my breath,  
Yet I in Life shall be,  
When thou shalt not be there.  
And though the Gate be straight,  
It leads unto that height,  
Where I shall defy thy Dart:  
Willingly I yield,  
As armed by that Shield,  
That will save my nobler part.   Death. 

Come away frail Man,  
And open now thy Breast,  
And take thy mortal wound:  
Let Friends do what they can,  
And Physic do its best,  
They'll all too weak be found.  
Lay now aside thy mirth,  
And turn unto thy Earth:  
I will give thee the fatal blow:  
It is in vain to wish;  
Thou canst not save thy Flesh:  
For my Power thou shalt know.   Believer. 

4.  
Readily I come,  
As being not the first,  
That hath past through thy door:  
Thou shalt but help me home,  
When thou hast done thy worst;  
And thou shalt be no more:  
By drawing out my blood,  
Thou shalt but do me good;  
And ease me of my grief:  
And though thou look so grim,  
Thou shalt bring me to him,  
That will give me full relief.   Death. 

5.  
Thy Flesh I'll turn to Clay,  
And all thy Bones to Dust;  
And leave thee in the Grave.  
Make no longer stay,  
For come away thou must;  
It is in vain to crave:  
Clothed from head to feet,  
But with a Winding-sheet,  
My Prisoner thou shalt be;  
Bearing my loathsome Mark,  
Thou shalt lie in the dark,  
And the face of no man see.   Believer. 

6.  
Thou shalt but dig the ground,  
Where God his Seed will sow,  
And raise it at the Spring:  
And there I shall be found,  
And Christ his own will know,  
And unto Glory bring:  
When here I cease to live,  
A better Life he'll give,  
Which thou shalt not destroy:  
And though This Life thou spill,  
My Soul thou canst not kill,  
Nor again with fears annoy.   

7.  
When thou puttest out these Eyes,  
I shall receive my sight:  
My Day will all be Noon:  
Above the spangled Skies,  
Where never shall be Night,  
Nor need of Sun or Moon:  
The Grave also shall keep  
My Dust in quiet Sleep,  
Till the Coming of my Lord:  
That Flesh shall shine with God,  
That now is but a Clod;  
And must lie as a thing abhorred.   Death. 

8.  
Thy merry Days are gone;  
Thou shalt no longer stay:  
Thy Life shall end in pain:  
Thy Time and work is done,  
And all thy Sport and Play;  
And never shall come again.  
Here take thy leave of Health,  
And of thy Goods and Wealth;  
And of every pleasant Friend:  
Bid farewell to them all,  
For here thy Corpse shall fall;  
And the World to thee shall end.   Believer. 

9  
Boast not, O conquered Foe:  
For thou couldst have no strength,  
But what comes from my sin:  
My Lord will overthrow  
Thy Power at the length;  
And will thy Prisoners win:  
Thou couldst not keep my head,  
When he lay in thy Bed;  
But he rose, and now doth Reign:  
He'll take away thy sting,  
And endless Life will bring,  
And with him shall I remain.   

10.  
How oft have I undressed me,  
And laid my Garments by,  
And died till the next day?  
I do but go to rest me,  
And shall rise speedily;  
My Lord will not delay.  
When thou hast broke this shell,  
My Soul with Christ shall dwell,  
And with Saints and Angels bright.  
This World is but the Womb,  
From which my Soul must come,  
Into the Eternal Light.   

11.  
And what though Death be painful?  
The pain is quickly passed;  
My Soul shall soon be freed:  
My Lord shall make it gainful:  
The gain shall ever last;  
And Joy shall Grief succeed.  
And though the Place seem strange,  
And Nature fear a change;  
Yet I with Christ shall be.  
And when with him I dwell,  
I know I shall be well,  
And his glorious Light shall see.   

12.  
Thou shalt but kill my sin,  
And crown my painful Race,  
And end my Grief and Fear:  
Thou shalt but let me in  
To see the blessed face  
Of my Redeemer dear.  
And is it any loss  
To follow with my Cross,  
Till I attain the Crown?  
It's he that truly dies,  
That Mercy doth despise,  
And at last God will disown.   

13.  
I knew that from my Birth  
I was a mortal man:  
My frailty, is confessed.  
I knew my Flesh was Earth;  
My Life was but a span.  
And here is not my Rest.  
If thou canst say no more,  
All this I knew before,  
And yet thy threats defy.  
Have I long sought in pain,  
And would I not obtain,  
Joyful Eternity?   

14.  
O feeble thing!  
How canst thou conquer Christ,  
And make his Promise void?  
First overcome my King,  
And his Command resist,  
By whom thou art employed:  
First win the World above,  
And conquer endless Love;  
And then I'll be thy slave:  
Kill an immortal Soul,  
And we will all condole,  
And fear a darksome grave.   

15.  
It's Christ that doth thee send,  
To bring about his end;  
And him thou must obey.  
He is my dearest Friend,  
And doth no harm intend,  
In calling me away.  
And why should he fear ill,  
Whom Love itself doth kill?  
And numbereth with the Blessed?  
Why should not Death fulfil,  
His good All-ruling WILL,  
My SPRING, my GUIDE, my REST.    

Hoc migraturus scripsi sub imagine Carmen.  
FArewel vain World: As thou hast been to me  
Dust and a shadow, such I leave to thee.  
The unseen Life and Substance I commit  
To him that's Substance, Life, Light, Love to it.  
Some Leaves and Fruit are dropped for soil & seed;  
Heaven's Heirs to generate; to heal and feed:  
Them also thou wilt flatter and molest,  
But shalt not keep from Everlasting Rest.   

Vel,  
Munde dolose vale: mihi vera palestra fuisti:  
Perficitur Cursus; certa corona manet.  
Vita fugax cessat: Praestant aeterna caducis:  
Mens superos visit: Pulvere pulvis erit.  
Excipe Christe tuum: Tibi vixi: Errata remitte;  
Spe tibi commissum perfice Christe tuum.  
Tu mortis mors es: Vitae tu vita perennis.  
Gloria nostra Tua est Gloria, Lumen, Amor.  
Non loca, non coetus, non hinc sperata videntur.  
Optimus, Omnividens, Maximus illa videt.   

THE English Verses written on a fair Marble over the Grave where my Wife and her Mother are buried, in the upper end of Christ's-Church Chancel (broken and lost by the fall of the Church when burnt) were these.  
Thus must thy Flesh to silent Dust descend.  
Thy mirth and worldly pleasure thus will end:  
Then happy holy Souls: but woe to those,  
Who Heaven forgot, and earthly pleasures chose.  
Hear now this Preaching Grave: without delay,  
Believe, Repent, and work while it is day.  
FINIS.