THE Ages of Sin, or sin's Birth & groweth. With the steps, and Degrees of Sin, from thought to final impenitency.  

 

Suggestion.  
Original-concupiscence Doth make  
Our Nature like a foul great-bellied Snake:  
For, were not Satan apt to tempt to Sin;  
Yet, lustful-thoughts would breed & brood, Within:  
But, happy, he, that takes These Little-Ones,  
To Dash their brains (Soon) 'gainst repentant-St●nes.    

 

Rumination  
When lust hath (thus) conceived It brings forth Sin,  
And Ruminating-thoughts Its Shape begin.  
Like as the bears oft-licking of her whelps.  
That foul deformed Creatures Shape much helps.  
The dangers great, our sinful thoughts to Cherish,  
Stop their growth, or thy poor soul will perish.    

 

DELECTATION.  
If, sinful Thoughts (once) nestle in man's heart,  
The sluice is open, Delight (then) plays its part:  
Then, like the old-Ape hugging in his arms,  
His Apish-young-One; Sin, the soul becharms  
And, when our Apish impious-Thoughts delight us  
Oh, then, (alas) most mortally They bite us.    

 

CONSENT.  
For, where Sin works Content, Consent will follow;  
And, This, the soul, into sin's gulf, doth swallow.  
For, as two rauning Wolves (for, 'tis their kind)  
To suck Lambs-blood, do hunt with equal-mind:  
Even so, the soul & Sin Consent, in One,  
Till, soul & Body be quite overthrown.    

 

Act.  
Sin and the Soule●●us, ha●ing stricken Hands,  
The Sinner (now) for Action ready stands;  
And tigerlike, swallows-up, at one-bit,  
What ever impious Prey his H●●●● doth fit  
Committing Sin, with eager 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Selling his soul 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉    

 

Iteration.  
From eager-Acting Sin, comes Iteration,  
Or, frequent custom of Sins perpetration;  
Which, like great Flesh-Flies liting on ra●●-Flesh,  
Though oft beat-off, (if not killed) come afresh:  
Hence, Be'lzebub is termed Prince of flesh-flies,  
'Cause Sin, still, Acts, until (by Grace) It Dies.    

 

GLORIATION.  
Custom in Sin takes Sense of Sin away,  
This makes All-Sin seem but a Sport, a play:  
Yea, like a rampant-lion, proud and Stout,  
Insulting, o'er his Prey, stalking about,  
The Saucy-Sinner boasts & brags of sin,  
As One (oh woe) that doth a city win...    

 

Obduration.  
When sin brings Sinners to this fearful pass,  
What follows, but a hard Heart-Brow of brass?  
A Heart (I say) more hard than tortoise-back,  
Which, nether sword nor Axe can hew or hack;  
judgements nor Mercies, Treats nor threats can cause  
To leave-off Sin, To Love or fear God's laws.    

 

Final-impenitency.  
And (now, alas) what is Sins last Extent?  
A hard-Heart makes a Heart Impenitent.  
For, can a Leopard change his Spotted Skin?  
No Nor a Heart accustomed (thus), his Sin.  
Then, Conscience, headlong, casts Impenitence.  
With horrid frights of Hellish recompense.