A SEA OF THE SEED'S Sufferings, Through which Runs A RIVER OF Rich Rejoicing. Thick Darkness girds the hours of Death's black day, A Mourning Seed weeps over her wry Way. Damosels yet shall their Dowries large possess, And dance at marriage, in the Lamb's Wife's Dress. But whilst the Earth Blood, as a Garment, wears; Upon her Face I'll drop my trickling Tears. In this my Sea, that Soul which wadeth deep, Shall know my Flood-sluce, and apart shall weep, Filling his measure under Pharaoh's frown; His End shall be to wear a weighty Crown. Written in the Year, 1659., in Rome-Prison of Madmen, By the extreme Suffering Servant of the Lord, JOHN. London, Printed for Robert Wilson, at the sign of the Black-spread-Eagle and Windmill, in martin's Le Grand, 1661. To the Congregation in the Valley of Megiddon, which are come to the Mourning, as it was in the Days of Hadadrimmon. I Am a Worm poor and low, which in the Earth doth creep, Hid as the tender Plant with Snow, in time of winter deep. So saith the Seed, grievous Oppressions long have been My weighty burdens: ages spreading clouds of sin Have wrapped me up, and roul'd me under trouble; I stand the same, they perished as a bubble. Hills, Mountains, Rocks have covered me, procelsive swelling Seas Weights, raging waves I feel and see, my burden's without ease In Egypt's Land, wherein, like as a slave I'm bound, And made the subject of her Rulers arrows wound; And in my bleeding state am made the stock, Which every heart therein doth hate and mock. I as the innocent Turtledove, that's left without a mate, Do mourn in secret, full of love, whilst all flesh doth me hate: And in the Wilderness, like as a helpless Lamb Doth lie, bleating out grief at side of a dead dam; And like a Babe at a dead Mother's breast, Struggling for Milk; so am I without rest. Doth Vi'lence in the Land flow, and am not I oppressed? I would that all Nations did know, how they have dispossessed Me of th' Inheritance, to which I was Heir born, And shut me out of doors, and left me as forlorn, Subject to Sufferings, in a Sea of danger; In all the Earth a Pilgrim and a Stranger. Hunger, Thirst, Nakedness, and Cold, yea, pangs of pain I eat, To which Oppression doth me hold, Tears are my drink & meat; Sighs in the deeps do gird me, as a swadling-band; The Night's black womb of wrath's my bondage in the Land. Oh! where's the Eye that doth my Sufferings read? Who am of Jacob's loins, that Worm and Seed. Nations, Hosts, mighty Powers as one, in Battle array are set: Kings, Princes, Multitudes (unknown) their Spears and Swords have whet; The alienated Jew and Gentil's fallen Will, United are, designed mine innocent blood to spill: Gog and Magog's great Host have thus decreed, To cut down every branch of Abraham's seed. I lodge in Deserts under boughs, which thorny trees have spread, When I would rise, than Hell in Vows moves on this worm to tread Who am that Grain, against which all the World stands In wilful Enmity and Wrath, in Troops and Bands: As thus, as desolate, involved in grief, Left languishing in Earth, without relief. I speak of flesh, the flesh of Son of Man, Which passed not flaming Sword, nor fiery Fan. Though I do pant, all flesh is as an Adamant, My trickling drops man's spirit doth not move Of sweeting blood, increasing on me as a flood: Ah! how each day doth he gainsay my love. My Virtue pure, his Lust abhors, which doth allure God's host of Angels, in the heavens to wed; Though I descend, yet mark, man's desperate cursed end, In Oath he's bound, deadly to wound my head. What shall I say? Blood is the travel of my day; Earth's thundering rage, blown forth by Lightning's breath, Doth post and fly, pursuing Life; Ah! hear my Cry: What! shall I weep in Ocean's deep to Death? I could not hope but that each sigh and groan, With every tear is dropped before God's Throne. A Song for that Assembly. HEaring the Seed's fore cries, my heart did think, How bitter is the Cup given thee to drink? And pondering well, mine Eye did plainly see, That, like spread-nets, sorrows have compassed thee. Whilst in the shallow waters I did wait, Like as the least, I saw thee made the bait, The little Dolphin's spaun, in every hour Pursued by Fishes, which would thee devour. And whilst I waited, the Deeps did me cover, Wherein I saw, where thou swim'st swift to hover, The Whale, the Shark, the Porpos, and the Hake In scools do chase thee fierce, a prey to make: Holes then in Rocks thou makest thy hiding-place, To save thy Life from their most cruel chase. Thou swim'st in Deeps the longest course of fears, There's not another which such Suffering bears. When unto shore I came with lift-up head, Thy many Woes on Earth I plainly read; And then in secret said, Sure few do weigh Thy Sufferings great; hunted as for the prey Of Wolf, Fox, Lion, Tigar, and of Bear, Which howl and roar thy Lamblike flesh to tear. Wild-Asses snuff up Wind, fed-horses rush All against thee; Bashan's black Bulls do push With all their force and might, with strong-set horns, Pointed like Spears, as sharp as pricking thorns. The Cockatrice hid in a secret place, His Jaws hold venom, to spit in thy face. The Crockadile, with Man's voice feigns his cry To slay thy life, he weeps in subtlety; If that in pity thou shouldst haste to see, What should the cause of such sore mourning be. Thus, as a snare, in secret he doth watch, Thy tender Life, his deadly mind to catch. Whilst standing still, and lifting up mine eye, Flocks of devouring Birds I did espy, In th' Air, with watching eyes, soaring aloft. At which I suddenly conceived the thought, And in the secret closet of my mind, I said, They seek the little Wren to find, Which in much fear in Thickets hid doth lie, Whilst Hawks and Vultures over thee do fly; Their Bills and Talons all prepared are, Watching thy rising, at thy Life to sparre: The Eagle flieth with a fixed will, To tear thy tender flesh with her strong Bill: The Ostrich great, which Iron can digest, Prepares her appetite on thee to feast: The cruel Dragon of the Wilderness, Pursues thee fierce in time of thy distress, With clashing wings and scales, flying most swift, As if to find thee, Heaven and Earth would sift; He spews out deadly venom, as a fluction; Restless in life, whilst seeking thy destruction. The fiery-flying Serpent's flaming breath Spreads burning in the Earth, seeking thy Death, Many a subtle twist with tail, and wrench With head and body, he works to entrench Upon the borders of thy Liberties, Thereby to catch thee as a prey and prize: He stretches Wings in Elements most high, Burning in flames, as he his course doth fly Aloft, ascending, shining in the Air, As if he were a blazing-star most fair; And as the Polisher of Hell's wombs snares In sort most subtle sets his blocks and bars, Thy pure path to pervert, and cause to stumble Thee unto loss of Life, thou sweet and humble. Mine Eye reverted to the Earth again, I saw the ground, in which thou long hast lain: The sight was sad, a pure Lilly-seed Compassed with every noisome hurtful Weed; Thistles and Brambles over thee aspires, With choking Thorns, and destructive Briars. Through cloven Mountains things I clearly did Behold, which in Earth's womb in Deeps lay hid, A Treasure vast of Silver and of Gold Of price uncounted, never by man told. Though sad to cite the shape in which it lay, Like ragged Rocks in Oar, in hue like Clay; Absconding Virtue, whilst not separate From the corrupted dross and Reprobate, Wanting its splendour illustrious and bright, Which purged, is seen by every open sight. Beneath the Oceans, which the Earth doth measure, Mud, Sands, and Craggy Rocks conceal a Treasure; The Carbuncle, and every precious Gem; The Saphir, Pearl, and the Diadem, The Ruby, Emerald, and Onix-stone, With what's unnamed, and unto man unknown: Besides, in her dark womb I saw revealed A smothered substance, in whose bowels sealed, Is all fullness of Virtue and Perfection; But what avails? Death's chains hold in subjection. Have I not therefore all day long to cry, Oh! Sorrows, Woes, Oh! immense Misery? Verily, since these things I've seen and felt, My heart within me like as Wax doth melt: Oh! Pressures, Pressures, Bleedings, Sorrows, Cries! Remembering Jacob, tears run down mine Eyes; My Bed's sore pangs, my Cup holds Woes, deep measure; I wrap my soul in care, despising pleasure. Thou Drop, Thy Channel's more than many Brooks, On Thy Grief's Streams my mourning spirit looks; Yea, for thy sake my Bowels are a River, Poured on the ground's, my Reins, my Heart and Liver. Whilst carnal, did I then a thought retain, That Man so brutish was in his disdain? Was it conceived by me in the least, His Nature more Oppressive than the Beast? Nay: 'twas not clear in substance comprehended, That he from Nature's bonds was thus descended; Instead of Perseverance, vile Regression, Disjoined from Mercy, united to Oppression. Oh Seed! how much more might mine heart incite? Too tedious for my Hand and Pen to write; Thy more abundant Sufferings than what man, Yea, all below the Sun, discover can. How like an hungry wandering Orphan poor, With bleeding Bowels, thrust from every Door, By Cruelty of what's thine own bereaved; Though coming to thine Own, yet not received! There's not a Covenant in Earth so true, Nor Law so just, to give to Thee thy due, Of Pity, Mercy, Justice, all denied; Of Men abhorred, despised, of all defied. When I saw these, and many secrets more Of Sorrows, which I have sealed up in store, And plainly knowing that beyond Conception, Grief is thy Portion, through Man's ill Rejection. The matter deeply sank into my heart, And there stuck fast, like as a wounding dart. The more I mused, the more my thoughts increased: What shall I say? I'll signify the least. What all? yea, all, and more than I do mention, Feeds thy sad soul with sighs, Ah! doleful pension. What all? yea all Kings, Peoples, and their Powers, Their fenced Cities, Fortresses and Towers. What all? yea all, built wilfully as Babel, With the same mind, which Cain slew just Abel. What all? yea, all, against thee are decreed, To leave thee Root, nor Branch, nor as a Seed. What all? yea, all's thy destiny and fate, The VVorld's Oath to hold the Captivate. Pondering, Interrogation moved in me; Saying, How shall this Seed delivered be? Who can the troubled Hosts on Earth suppress, Without which, Can he Life and Peace possess? How can it be conceived, and much less spoken, Hell's strength and stratagems all to be broken? Who can rip up Foundations of Mountains, And fix Bars on the Doors of unclean Fountains? Who knows the Night's course of the Wolf and Fox? And who can trace the Serpent's path on Rocks? Who can show measure just of every flight Of all the Screech-owl's, and the Bats by night? Who can trace twists, and search depths of all Holes, Which are the secret paths of the blind Moles? I ask of all the worldlings wise as Fools, Can you still Cockling-Races, or Whirlpools? Who can convert Flames into flakes of Snow? And, who can stop the Ebb, and make to flow? Can Procreation be without a Dame? And, who can ever make a Panther Tame? Who can make Seas like unto the least Fountain? And make a little Stone, a mighty Mountain? How shall this be e'er in succeeding days; Jacob's most small and low, who shall him raise? Let all Generations henceforth and for ever know, That the most High GOD hath his secret habitation with the QUAKER and TREMBLER at His Word, as may appear by the Glory of the Voice of his Majesty. I gird my Loins with strong Steel-bands of fear, Dread filled my house, whilst Jahs face did appear, My Vitals all became a Silver Stream, In substance, melted not, as in a Dream, Nor under bonds of magic's gloomy hour; But in true feeling of Celestial Power. Jehovah's Love, in Life did move, and Wonders did inquire, Of this Worm low, that I might know the strength of Flames of Fire. Standing a little still, I heard, as read, A Voice ascending out of Deeps in dread. My Int'rogations quickly had an end, The Word responsive did me comprehend; Things sealed up in Eternal Decree From Ages past, in great fear compassed me; So dreadful was the Word, which oft did make Me in my motion stagger, reel and quake. Thus said the Lord, Hear Man, and I'll demand, Who round the swelling Seas hath fixed dry Land? who's he that maketh every Fish's way? And, who doth bar the Night, and open Day? Who hath created Wonders in the Deep? And who feeds Worms which in her bottoms creep? Where's he who by his Wisdoms words or wishes, That's able t'answer me among the Fishes? The Lempits spaun, what Man hath seen to tell? And how gained she her Covering of a Shell? Who gave her strength fast to the Rock to cleave, That no Fish else of life can her bereave? Can Man this secret unseal and unlock, Whether another substance than the Rock Doth she feed on? let him in Wisdom speak, What Instrument hath she the Rock to break? Who knows the Spaun which Cockles & Musles shed, And what's the substance wherewith it is fed? Who knows the time of their Nature's conception, And when's the moment brought unto perfection? Who leads the Wrinkles over Mountains high Of craggy Rocks, which in the Ocean's lie? Who built the House which she bears on her back, Wherein she's hid, as in a sealed Sack? Her one Scale opens and shuts; it's her Door, Wherewith she seals salt moisture up in store, That when the Ebb her Lodge to Air doth give, Till Flood returns she hath enough to live. Was it by Art of wise Princes or Kings, Or, who gave to the flying Fish her wings? Which when pursued by other Fishes great, That would her Life destroy, and Body eat, Therewith in every Chase, Life to defend, Doth out of Nature's Element ascend. Who gave the Dolphin her dear tender Love, And made her swiftest which in Seas do move? Who made two Fishes Weapons for to wear, Whereby they swim, dreadful with Sword and Spear; Though being little, and in substance small, Yet are a Terror to the mighty Whale? Who makes the Oyster gape with ardent heat In Summertime, as if she wanted meat? And whilst yet thus her shells stand open wide, Who taught the Crabfish to draw near her side, And with his claw a Stone therein to put, Whereby to save her life, she cannot shut? And thus is made the other Fishes Bait, Which for the same takes time to watch and wait. Who gave some Fish's fins, others walking legs, And makes some spaun, and others to lay Eggs? Who hatches Tortles Eggs hid in the Sand, And who sustains their Life by Sea and Land? Who of a Seed hath made thee flesh and bone, And whereof made I every precious Stone? Of what's composed Earth, Trees and every Plant? And which was first, LIGHT, or the ADAMANT? Who answers? What, can Man reveal to me The substance whereof I composed the Bee? Who knows his Art which makes the Honeycomb? And, who made Man before a Woman's Womb? what's the Infusion, who can it resemble, Which at the Cock's-Crow makes the Lion tremble? The same which fills the Elephant with fear, When that a Mouse before him doth appear. Who taught Jack-halls to hunt the Lion's prey, And Pilot-fish, to lead the Shark her way? One knows the thing, which to all flesh seems strange, How that Chameleon herself doth change Into all Colours, perfect White excepted, Which by the Law for Man's meat is rejected. I bend th'exalted flames of Phoebus' low, Autumn to usher Winter's birth of Snow, Her Travel, as a Vest, on Earth doth spread, Wherein the Night-steps of Wild-beasts are read; Which though the girdings of the Night conceals Day dawned, printed Lines to Man reveals. Though Lions roar, and Wolves do howl and bark, Panther, with them I sent to Noah's Ark; A golden third I've given with clear sight, To measure the blind Bats and Screech-owl's flight, The Moles dark paths, a Labyrinth obscure, Yet scrutal Worm doth comprehend it sure. He which hath Mose's Rod in Shiloh's Day, Over a Rock can trace a Serpent's way. I built the Seas on each hand as a Wall, Which saved a Seed, and on an Host did fall. Remains there yet another doubtful thing, Which He that made all, cannot to light bring? WORM, where wert thou ere Adam saw a Day? Or, who hath counselled me in mine own way? Did I choose Compounds, what man can me tell, To make a simple, Poison to expel? Or, chose I Drugs, beneath Life's proper seal, To make a Salve all Sores and Wounds to heal? Sought I mixed Medicines the Plague to cure, Or Lethargy, which loathes Purgation pure? Logicians, Lawyers, Chemists and Stargazers, Make Smoke in Tophet, they of Men amazers. Art's painted Image with Apology, Is but the Wash-pot of Theology, Which tracks out Hirelings in their subtle traces, And spreads with Dung Baal's Diviners faces; Whilst Light reveals, a shovel is their tongue, Which in the Bride-groom's room heaps noisome dung So dung for dung, repaid's their equal way, Till their work's up, and wrath cuts down their stay. In number of the Just they shall not rise; As the tree falls, it so consuming lies. For Mammon's sake they have the Just oppressed, The Simple to deceive, my Law they wrist. They rob the Poor, and raven Widows bread, With Joy of Orphant's spoils they crown their head. Wherefore's I live, I'll fill their Cup with Woe, Th' effects of Vengeance shall their banks o'erflow. And he which slips the Day given to repent, In judgement's hour from hope of Life, I'll rend. Where's the Philosopher? what hath he found, Raking up Rubbish of black Egypt's ground? The cause of courses natural, which move With all effects, spring from a root of Love, Which Wisdom swaddles with a golden band, He builds not Babel, nor trusts Art of hand. Wheels out of frame do make the whole work jar, Fractions pursue whilst Man's bound in a snare, Through what his Love unnatural compounds Of Roots, Stones, Oare, and Dirt of divers grounds. It's but one simple Virtue doth unfold, Which touching Metals makes all pure Gold. Who studies Wisdom? there's at each man's stall Teaching a Seed, he which hath one hath all; But Man whose Wisdom doth exalt his thought, Without the Key of Rocks, his All is nought; His Rule, Progression is; his own Reduction, His Joy and Pleasure prints his own Destruction. Who answers me among the Fowls of Heaven, Which in the Ark were saved by numbers seven? Since Noah's day, who all their increase took, And registered their numbers in a Book? Who couples them in season, as yoked even? I'll yet demand of Man concerning seven. Who gave the Wren her triple Voice to sing, Consorting Music with the Timbrel string; And in much Joy, saved from an evil chance, Makes her in Summer in Vine branches dance? The Red-breast's shrill Notes singing on a Rock, Sounds as a Shepherd piping to his Flock; Who gave the love which she bears in her breast, And Innocency for a seat of rest? Who makes the Thrush in Springtime to rejoice, And gifted her with a loud chanting Voice? Who gave the Hand her quavering Keys to feel, And guides the same, which turns her Cymbal-wheel? Who Blackbirds whistle, which makes Woods to ring? Sweet Valleys echo whilst yet she doth sing, In Deserts; who from under shadows mute Raiseth her Voice to sing unto the Lute? Who fills the Nightingale with Harmony, Her Tune transcending all in Air that fly? Who strained her seven strings unto perfect trial? Which makes the Music on her well set Vyal; Who makes the Lark ascend with outstretched wing, A Song of Melody on high to sing? Who hath her Organ unto sweet Notes bound, And blows the Bellows for her Pipe to sound? And who hath given unto the Turtle-Dove Her mind of Chastity and pure Love, And made her of her Mate so dear a Lover, That choosing ONE, she'll never choose Another? Th'united Harmony let it be penned; Musical Consort never shall have end, Who hastes these seven in flight with wide- spread wings In Orion's house to feast on flesh of Kings? Sat silent Sodom, for its Sion's Seed, Which in the seven-sealed Roll do run and read. I gave my servant Moses a pure measure, But now to Shiloh a more glorious Treasure; Whose Day shall give an Holy Seed to see, Unto him gathered multitudes to be. Can Man yet answer Me in open fields, Amongst the tender Plants which the Earth yields? Who makes the Grass to grow, and Plant to spring, The Lily seed, and every fragrant thing? Can he by all his Wisdom, Will, or Power, With all his Compounds, new, create one Flower, Which of Earth's substance shall partake and feed, And flourish, yielding perfect seeding Seed? Can he the nature of the lily's Seed, Change into an offensive hurtful Weed? Or else the Virtue of the Primrose-plant, And Violet by all his Wisdom, scant? How knows he when the virtue's more or less? Hath he to Curse, and have not I to BLESS? Knows he that Plant which grows in Woods obscure, Whose root of Pestilence is perfect cure? I've seen Physicians, Herbals large, which want Description of that fragrant Root and Plant: Doth he know which of every Seed shall grow, Whilst yet in hope he spreads his hand to sow? Or when in blade sprang up new-shot in ear, Is he assured which Reed shall increase bear? Who dwells in Deeps, where Virtues life reposes, Hid in the Root, which odours gives to Roses? Who knows where Pleiades hath built his Bower Of Spices, decked with every fragrant Flower? Who in the Earth hath digged so deep to see Him clothed with Sap of every fruitful Tree? Who spreads the Vine-leaf as a Summer-shade, And as with Jewels, doth her branches lad? She prospers pleasant in the Valleys low, In Vintage making Fats to overflow. Can Man, whose Study's but as mudled mire, Make Plants in Eden spring of sparks of fire? Whilst virtuous Shiloh, which in flames reposes, Of burning Coals makes sprout forth Damask Roses, Which Mortals know not with which hand to handle, Whose Light's thick Darkness, spread by Shiloh's Candle: To whom all souls must come by Transformation, To know the Work mysterious of Salvation, He's full possessed, which in his right hand reads His Line of Life unto Perfection leads; Which seals the doom of his most woeful state, Whom death cuts off, in sin's chains captivate. Who answers me in word of Visitation, Which perfect trial brings on every Nation? Who can set bars by strength of his right hand To bolt out famine, sent to smite a Land? Where is that King which on the Earth doth reign, Which fire, sword, and plague can bind and chain? And who can say, but those, and many more My Judgements, yet a little held in store Shall quickly sweep the earth, and in this wise Cut off all lovers of their lusts and lies? Who numbered hath the arrows of my quiver, Prepared for battle, Jacob to deliver? Have I not said, there is for him a day At hand, and am I yet to seek the way In which mine own unsearchable Decree In all earth's compass perfected shall be? Can man's frail life and strength on his back bear The weight of my shield, buckler, sword, and spear? Let vain man answer in his pride and lust, Who made all Nations in ONE of the dust? Or, who gave Counsel, or materials brought, To assist me in all that I have wrought? Will he not understand amidst his joy, That he which made, can ALL at once destroy? Kings, Princes, Nations, all degenerated, Have they more strength than what's of dust created? To David's sling, what is Goliah's spear? If I strike Dread, who's he that shall not fear? I could yet question man, time without end, Whilst, in a word, all things I comprehend; But that in folly he himself may know, I'll sum up all in ONE of what's below. Can man whose contract in death's-day stands dated, Create a work of what's not yet created? Worm, where wert thou before the sun ascended? Or e'er that I my first days work had ended? Or, where when the first fixed Stars did sing A joyful Song of Praise to their high King? Moreover, I demand vain man to prove, Can he yet answer me in heavens above? Can man the Storms rebuke? or, can he check The moving Winds? are Whirlwinds at his beck? Can He the Heaven's Influences sweet Turn back, and cause that in the season meet, Nor Heat, nor Cold, times tepid, Dews nor Rain Shall be in all succeeding days again? Can Man heavens bright Clouds in his weak hand hold? Or, all the moving Constellations fold, And roll up in a secret place to hid Them, where they never more shall be espied? Or, is He such a Powerful Commander, That at his beck all fixed Stars shall wander? Can mortal Man in his corrupted will Stop the Moon's course, or, make the Sun stand still? Can he the Morning spot, or the Sun slain? Or, can he Thunders bind, or Lightnings chain? Can Man his hand to the third heavens stretch, And therewith violently make a breach Through bars of Brass, which bolt fast doors of Steel, Much more in substance than Earth's Orb or Wheel, And so lay waste in his fond will and pleasure, What's there contained of Jacob's certain treasure? Can he do all these, still I'm far above The Heaven of heavens, where nought besides doth move, Can Man cut off Strong-fire-all's renting Claws? Or draw his Teeth out of his burning Jaws? Doth Man's Eye make him tremble with a look? Or, can he tear his heart out with a hook? Each of his Joints are as an Iron hill, His Teeth grinds Carcases, as in a Mill; His Nostrils flames seethe in his Cauldron Whales, And fries the flesh of Kings in his cast Scales: He gapes like Gulfs, as if he hungry were, Thirsting for Blood, he roars the Prey to tear; His Furnace fire in Brainpan of his head, Boils Cauls' and Blood of every heart, fat fed. Can Man his brazen skin rend as a rag? Or joint his tail, which Ocean's deeps do drag? He waves his Wings over his Steel-barred Cage, And Storms impetuous move in roaring rage; The foaming Seas, like Mountains full of breaches, His Motion turbulent, her Womb's deeps reaches; His glazed sparkling Eyes appear most fierce; Nor Shot, nor Weapon can his Body pierce; Steel, Brass and Iron unto him are straws, Their strength seven times compos'd's not like his Claws, He shakes his Back, which makes his Scales to rattle, Like shouts and clashings of a dreadful Battle: Hath Man yet seen the measure of his Bow, And Arrows length? Or, how came he to know His Golden Shrouds, Six over every shade, The Seventh shuts in the Mould that he hath made? He walks in secret in the deepest dark, And leaves his Relic, it's a fiery spark; He marks his Path out by a Line obscure, If two would walk therein, one's snared most sure. Can he whose Fame spreads as Ahithophel, Reach round that Sphere which is his lowest Cell? All's mean to me, which in thine Ear I sound; Heights reach not me, nor Deeps the most profound. Worm, where wert thou before Time did commence, And, what stood then against me as defence? Who then was with me counselling in decree? Or, what, doth Man think Time hath altered Me? Man's mighty Mountain's now to me no more Than 'twas ere Light passed through heavens open door. I see the Counsels, Leagues, and Powers of Hell, Satan and his Angels in that black Cell: The Devil had time with him that first did sin, And before that his reign did not begin. Who yet, as Prince in Earth and Air doth reign, But is appointed unto Seal and Chain. Death and Hell's Leagues, I'll disannul and save Jacob, from her wide Jaws and loathsome Cave; It's One which all performs, who will not scant The just fulfilling of his Covenant. I'm He in Judgement and Truth, changing never, Yesterday the same, this day, and for ever. God's glorious Sound did me confound, yea, and my Bowels break; Yet then as I, most low did lie, his Mercy heard me speak. Oh! Thou which rent'st the heavens, and makest the Earth to reel, And overturnest all, like as a running Wheel, Hear me, O GOD, I pray, a little to declare, Who am in all things before Thee naked and bare. Thou measur'st Deeps beneath as the breadth of a hair, And as a span, the heavens high, most bright and fair; Thy present Word and Power mine inward parts doth break, Oh! hear me yet a little, let me further speak; Mine eyes, mine eyes run down, this Flame my heart doth melt, I sow my tears as seed, since this Thy Power I've felt; I'm very poor and low, like the least worm that creeps In th' Ocean's belly, swallowed with the immense Deeps: O GOD before Thee what am I? hear me, I pray, And till I have declared, turn not thy Face away. My breadth is as a Razor's edge, that's newly set, My height, as the breadth of a Needle's point sharp whet; Yea, comprehended is my stature with a thought, Unto thy Greatness, I'm, but as a thing of nought. I couch, I bent, I bow before thee in thy Throne, Thy Reign is Power and Life, to corrupt man unknown. And the Lord answered me through the Clouds of the Morning Dewes, in a clear serene Day of the early Spring. THou Son of Man, lift up thine head and hear, Thou naked art, therefore I say, draw near. Like as a broken Bow thou shalt not start From my Testimony, written in thy heart; But with thy strength, inclined in pure fear And dread, thou shalt witness of my NAME bear. Moreover, Son of Man, give ear to me, And I will make thee Counsels deep to see: Behold the Drop of Blood which in the Earth doth lie, Hath from her drowning Deeps raised a Cry, Which like as Lightning's arrows most swift are, It hath ascended above every Star; And pierced heavens bars, and moved me in my Throne, In Righteousness to weigh the Cry and Groan: But I the LORD which Counsel do reveal, Do charge thee that the Secrets thou dost seal, From every unclean, corrupt, vult'rous eye, For whom's the woe and Dregs of misery; How it shall be say not; dwell thou in Me, Who hath a Sword and Scale given thee to see, With many other Instruments of praise, Held in one hand that Drop of Blood to raise; But thus thou may'st prophesy and dispense, A Drop of Blood shall be a Sea immense; A little Stone shall be an open Fountain, And a dry bone shall be a mighty Mountain. Moreover, in a day it comes to pass, A Diamond spark shall cut an Earth of Brass, And all the Waters under heavens divide That open passage be from side to side Of every Island, and all firm Lands, A mighty Host to march in Troops and Bands, Raised of a Root, Earth's Globe to compass round, To seek the Lost until that it be found; And in that Day shall be a dreadful Wonder, A panting Worm shall be a Voice of Thunder; The lower cloudy heavens composed of Steel, Which bands Earth's brazen Circle like a Wheel, That Orb also, with what increase it yields In fenced Gardens, or in open Fields, In a moment shall melt away like Wax, As with the sudden flames of burning Flax, Kindled by motion and glance of a spark, Which Dust and Ashes cover in the dark; Yet in the fiery flames there shall remain. As unconsum'd, a little simple grain, But all in Earth besides shall burn as Tow, And perish, as the Sun dissolves the Snow. Preach this to proud flesh which doth vainly boast, A Mustard seed shall be a mighty Host, Which shall a Standard pitch, and Ensign spread, Wherein Conquest in Battles shall be read; And then the Worm which hath crept maimed and halt In Ages past, I highly will exalt; Which I've anointed as King of Salome, To reign for ever in Jerusalom; To him that ent'reth then within her Gate I'll give to see the thing that I create, A Lion fierce, a Lamb, a Lamb, a Lion Which shall roar out of the Mountain Zion; Whose sound shall be as Trumpets unto the Battle, Which in the four winds shall ring and rattle; So dreadful shall the Echoes then rebound, That all the Dead shall hear, buried in ground; The Sea shall give up what lies in her Womb, With Death, and every Sepulchre and Tomb; Then He shall judge all which do Judgement wrest, Perverting Truth, which have the Poor oppressed: And as I live, I'll spread his face and brow more wide than are the heavens now; And every Eye shall see what they have hated, A Worm, Innocent, mine own created: His frown shall be the World's WOE and DREAD, Yea, every soul to Him shall bow the head; His Eye shall pierce the secrets of all hearts, And in the Guilty shall fix wounding darts; Which no flesh living shall at all remove, The Recompense of their despite of love. His breath as Lightnings, piercing as a Lance, In dreadful flames on every soul shall glance, Fulfilling Vengeance in the Wicked's heart, Ev'rlasting burn, never to departed. Yea, with his breath all pure Gold shall melt, Which in heavens Treasure shall be seen and felt; And pure Silver shall run down as streams, With th' ardour of his Rays and burning beams: Lift up thine head, the DAY draws very nigh In which this WORM I will exalt on high; And I the JEALOUS moved for his relief, Do charge thee wait in content and belief; In th' Ark of the New-Testament abide, And in its secret desk see that thou hid The written Rolls of Fire and pure Gold, Until the Word shall be, Thou mayst unfold: The Sum of all thus sealed up in thy breast, Lie down in Peace in the Lamb's Endless Rest. To the Children of the Day. NO Damage, hurt nor loss, but Gain's won in the Cross. Let Patience all things bear, in Trembling and in Fear. Content thy Mate, in every state, leads to the entrance through the Gate, Where all within, in Joy do sing, and Crowns of Life do wear. At large I may not say, what I this Holy Day In pleasure do possess, whilst foes do me oppress, But will proceed, to show the need, of Jacob small that bruised reed, That it may rouse, LIFE as a Spouse, to woe Him in distress. This thing may many prove, behold, stretched wings of Sion's Turtle Dove, in swiftest course of flight do move, with weight of woo unto love; A little simple Wren, waits with the Pen, in clear sight to write, Amen. A Son of Zion which in ardour pants Unto Jerusalom's Inhabitants, Provoked in spirit, greeting to transmit, Doth of the same hereby himself acquit: Upon the Sabbath day which God hath blest, I waited in the Temple of his Rest, Until I saw a little moving Stone, To open as a Roll before the Throne, Wherein was written Mysteries profound, With many Prophecies, which compassed round My soul in deeps of Contemplations, Oh! Immense, Immense Revelations. Though I'm a Worm to speak unto an Host Of Heaven, yet moved in the Holy Ghost, I stand up armed with Courage, in Life bold, In Fear and Trembling, lest I should withhold To pay the Obligation, as my due, Discharged thus, by spreading in your view. There is an Orphan in the Wilderness, Which wanting Bread, languisheth in distress; I cannot in a secret place repose, To hid myself from the afflicted's Woes, Most grievous Cries, the Echoes as a Dart And piercing Lance, wounds me unto the heart. Oh! you on whom the glorious Sun doth shine, Unto my Voice your open ear incline. Jerusalem a substance doth possess, Which can remove that bleeding Worm's distress. The Liberal Hand is this day meet to measure A Portion of the Consecrated Treasure, For the Redemption of the Captivate, From the Chains of his sore oppressed state. Give ear ye Sons and Daughters to this WORD, Unto Jerusalom Thus saith the LORD: This WORD shall be his burden which conceals, and shuts himself up under Clouds, and seals His Life and Portion in obscurity, Starting from Zeal, the flame of Purity, Relinquishing Life's motion, keeping back The thing which the oppressed Seed doth lack. Remember ye the Ancient Prophet's race, Whose life stood not at all in time or place, But wand'red as Pilgrims and as Strangers In all the Earth, without respect of Dangers, Some dragged to Sufferings, and to Tortures hurled, Some slain, of whom worthy was not the World; I'm directed to him, moved to partake Of Tryal's pledge; whilst yet for the Seed's sake Like as a Lamb I bleat, I bleed, I roar, Like as a Lion in the Gate and Door, The entrance of the Palace of the King, Blowing my breath on every living thing. Stand up thou simple, stagger not at all, The Voice is GOD'S, which secretly doth call: Yield unto Him, with whole affection bend, The RACE is sure, thou runnest as him that's sent. Ye called to the labour of the Day, Take Instrument in hand, and come away All Plowers, Planters, Pioners and Miners, With Reapers, Thresher's, Fanners and Refiners, Proceed in strength each one in his Vocation, To see Redemption of the whole Creation. You valiant Soldiers, which the Weapons wear Of War, the Javelin, Dart, the Sword and Spear, Appear as Champions in Earth's open field, With Ensign, Standard, Buckler, Bow and Shield. Unto the Battle let the Trumpet sound, Avenge in Earth until the LOST be found, Aim right and shoot the arrows of your Quiver, To pierce Gog's Host unto the heart and liver; And GOD Eternal with most high renown Of Victory, all the Courageous crown. Dear Brethren and Sisters in the Power, Remembering You, I'm as a dropping shower, Mine yearning bowels like to Wax do melt, Ah! let me by you all be seen and felt. My Life salutes you with an Holy Kiss, Transmitted by the Lips of Heaven's bliss. Love clasps Life, with dear embraces Of virtue's arms in Joy and Pleasure, Reading the sweetness of the Graces Wrapped up in Life, Ah! heavenly Treasure. To Life, as the Mate of a Dove I'm bound in unknown endless Love: Let every Lamb Of the true Dam Read how your Life my soul doth move. Thoughts are fixed fast in my breast, Deeply anchored in my heart. May it be said LOVE hath oppressed? Then you're my wound: ah! piercing Dart. Sure had not He which doth reveal Your brightness, given a Leaf to heal My Maladies, In counsel wise, Death had on me set her seal. Dear Salutation as Embassage I send to Heaven's blessed Host, Though not as if I had made passage, Relinquishing sweet Sion's Coast, But with you for ever bound In God's Covenant profound, And Glorious Day Which leads the way, And saves out of the cursed ground. Your smell is as a fragrant Flower, Your taste more pleasant than sweet Wine, I feel you in th' Eternal Power, I see most clear your faces shine; Your sound as Melody mine ear (Of Cymbals, Lutes and Trumpets) doth hear, The piercing Voice Makes heart rejoice, And Love's clear eye to drop a Tear. You're built upon an Holy Mountain, A Glorious Palace for the King; Your Foundation is Life's Fountain, Angels beholding, Praises sing To GOD uncessant all day long, On David's tuned Harp, the Lamb's Song. Let Nations prove, Hell can't you move, The Wonderful hath built you strong. Roses, Spices, Gems and Gold, To see all no flesh can pry, Sion's Treasure vast untold, Unutterable in mine eye, You're the sum which do possess The Sum in everlasting bless, Most High Renown, Your weighty Crown Shall Kings and Nations to death press. I bless Him who gives to know Counsels deep in his own way. Sion's streams shall overflow Earth's Wide compass in a day: All shall yield increase and store, Creatures traveling in pain sore Shall then be blest, And not oppressed, Curse removed for evermore. Feel my yearning bowels moved, Which Mortal cannot comprehend, Towards You, my Dear Beloved, In that which never shall have end. All which GOD'S own Image bears, And the Lamb's white Garments Wears With Virtue's grace Behold my face As a ground of trickling tears. Let me pierce the inward parts, And provoke the souls of all In the flames of burning hearts, Which on GOD the LORD do call, Whilst sweet odours do ascend, To the Father recommend Him of Man hated, The LORD'S created, Whose Love alone doth Life defend. That no tender Lamb may bleat After Me with other Voice, GOD the Father I entreat Than which makes my heart rejoice. Rest you all in the pure Life, As the Bride, the Lamb's own Wife, To live, or die, Given up as I, For Truth a Sacrifice most rife. JOHN. To the Seed of the Kingdom, Plants of the Paradise of God; most purely and everlastingly beloved Brethren and Sisters, in the Immortal Life, Congratulation. CAn I forget that Womb whose Travels were For me more grievous, than which flesh could bear? Or bury in Oblivion's Grave, that Breast Which suckled me? or Cradle of my rest? Can I requite my Friends as deadly foes? Or scorn the Bed of Heavenly Joys repose? Or loathe the Waters sweet, of Jacob's Well, Like Sulphury streams of the infernal Cell? Can I forget that Hand and living Bread, Which in sore Famine freely hath me fed? Or drown in Deeps the thoughts of God's own breath To burst like Judas, strangled unto death? Nay, for in GOD most merciful and just, Abides my Confidence, Faith, Hope and Trust. Ah! Zion, Zion, thy most glorious Life, Is all to me, my Joy, I am thy Wife: And therefore if I should make slight of thee, Then all thy Good would be a sting to me; Then would my Bow against me surely bent, And all my Darts into my Body send, And all the pointed Arrows of my Quiver, Would sorely stick fast in my Heart and Liver. Then would my Sword which on my loins is bound, Fall sharp on me, and leave a mortal wound: Yea, than the Teeth of this my Instrument, Would flesh from bones, and all my entrails rend. My Honey would become as Rue and Gall, And heavenly showers like snares of Fire would fall Upon my head; yea, than my pleasant Wine Would be as molten Lead; and this straight Line Would mark out all, even as an equal due, Which gives clear sight that God's most just and true. The Oil which burns within this Lamp of Gold, Would also me in flames of fire fold: For than would Shiloh all his currents make To me, like as the fiery burning Lake; Should I become like as a turning Vane, Then this my Bread would be my deadly bane. My Marrow would become like Pitch and Tar, In dreadful flames; yea, than the Morningstar, Which hath revealed his glorious shining Light, Would gird me in the hideous howling night: But surely I to God's own Mercy have Committed all, whose Grace doth freely save; Weakness is mine, but strength's in God's own hand, By which alone in fear, I live and stand, In Baptism's fire, exceeding John's, who lead To Jordan's Deeps, whom Herod did behead. Ah! Babes most dear, with you in that I am, Which gives to see me as a patiented Lamb, In pure Content, bearing the Yoke and Cross, Esteeming mortal, but as dung and dross; In taste of Virtue, of the heavenly Seed, At God's own Table with you all I feed; With each low worm in his proper measure, I drink a dram of the sweet Wine of pleasure, My soul in Ardency of Life doth say, I am as near you as the Light the Day. As firmly fixed, like flesh unto your bones, As in the Mountains solid Rocks and Stones: As real in you, though no flesh can see, As is the Sap in the green Olive Tree: I've chosen you like as the Turtle-Dove, To be dissolved in this most constant Love. I want the words of Wisdom's Deep profound, To show how deep y'are planted in this ground: What shall I say unto my heart within? Where canst thou end, but where thou didst begin? And there the Rivers run, exceeding measure, What shall I say of this my Love's vast treasure? You have much more than this weak hand can write, For all is yours which Spirit doth indite; My Spirit's also with and in you all, Who by the same are saved from the fall. Can I within me less Affection find, Than Worms or Beasts, who love their proper kind? Nay, Lambs, ye know in living substance well, That my Brooks current, mortal doth excel. For this my Stream towards the Deep doth run, As doth my Flame ascend towards the Sun. No wise Philosopher did ever know The moving Cause why Seas do ebb and flow; Nor of them all which in their Tombs do lie, saw the Love, which moves the Sun to fly, In course most swift round heavens widest wheel, But God's Host now the Cause and Life do feel. The lesser to the greater is well known, And each true Nature moves towards its own. Here's Fire below, the greater Flame's above, Till twain are joined, they do yearn both in Love. Th'o'erwhelming Floods, which on the Earth were sent In Noah's day, dropped from the Firmament; Besides, you see how rainy Clouds do bring, Refreshing Showers in pleasant time of Spring; And fills the Fountains which are here below, And still the Streams unto the Seas do flow, And all their Tides, wherein they always move, Show 've affection to the Floods above. Now read me and my Love, which tongue can't speak, To you my Life, which Death nor Hell can break; Yet still I pray in fear, that God defend Me from the ill, and save me to the end. And O ye Branches of the Olive Tree, Your leaves are shades, and Fruit is life to me; God's Wisdom which surpasseth man's devices, Hath built you as a Bower of fragrant Spices. Your Walks are Joyfulness, and Peace your Seat, Your Life is Bread and Wine, and Love is meat; My soul is planted in your holy ground, And here your flames of Love do me surround; And on your substance, which distils as drops Of heavenly Dew, I feed like Honey-sops; Partaker with you in Community, Of good in God's House in the Unity; And in the Stem my Branch with you reposes, Which bears the Buds, and all the Damask-Rosesâ–Ş You are the Bed composed of heavenly pleasure Unto my soul, yea, God's peculiar Treasure. How purely run these most refreshing streams, In daily Visions, and Nocturnal Dreams; The Fullness verily is in the Father, Who doth our Minds into his Bosom gather, Like tender Chickens by the Clucking Hen, Whose Name be praised by Life, by Voice and Pen. Let me descend from Sion's glorious Mountain, To show a Seed the Vale wherein's the Fountain; For surely I could freely lay down Life, With Blood, to buy a stranger for my Wife; For what's so purchased by joint-consent, Is as the Seed of Judah's saved Tent; What? Forreigner, wouldst thou walk in in the Way Of Life and Peace in this God's saving Day? Thy whole Affection must in substance bend, To that which brings to flesh a final end; And that from Darkness thou the Day mayst know, The Proud must bow down to the poor and low: For lo the Sun, which gives the Day her light, Remains below the Horizon all night. Such is the Principle and Spark in thee, Veiled by Sin's Clouds, whereby thou canst not see To know the Poor, th' Oppressed, and his Cries, Within thyself, which in a Dungeon lies. Wherefore draw near unto the Earth's short end, To see the Daystar and the Sun ascend; For know thou whilst that thou dost there remain, Assuredly art bound in Death's black Chain; And whilst thou dost from Mountain run to Hill, Seeking a Stream to drink thy lustful-fill, Arrive thou canst not unto Jacob's Well, For so thou runnest to ring a broken Bell: Stand still, I'll touch a Stone and thou shalt know, That Waters in thee out of it shall flow; In Conscience there's a secret LIGHT within, Which doth distinguish Truth from every sin; That is of GOD which judgeth works of Evil, And thoughts in Man moved of the tempting Devil; The Soul which faithfully its Judgement keeps, Shall know Salvation from the Darkness deeps: Then follows Faith and Hope, which gives alone, Th' Internal Knowledge of the virtuous Stone, Out of which Waters pure of Life do gush, And in the same's concealed the Burning-bush. Then will his River run, and Flames ascend Of heavenly Virtue, which shall never end. Remember Man the LIGHT within's the Way, From Darkness dwelling to the Door of Day; Which leads to Fullness, free from every doubt, Obeyed within possessed,, but lost without: And therefore Wanderer at home retire, Lest that thou sink and perish in the mire. For that which leads Man from the LIGHT within, Spurs on the Race to end the Life in sin. And then of sin in which he lives and dies, Shall have his Wage; for as he falls, he lies. Yet still my Heart doth in my Body burn, Towards the Doves, to whose Door I return With Corn in hand, to spread before their eye, Upon the Stage whereto they daily fly: Which is the place whereon they always feed, Amidst the house wherein their young they breed. To all the Hungry and the Thirsty Lambs, I'm broken-Bread, and Wine drawn out in drams. And of a truth it is my soul's sweet care, That every Babe may eat and drink a share. My life in Zion would be always found Among the Seed, a Salve to every wound; And perfect Medicine to every grief, And to th' Oppressed an Arm of good relief. Let not my Love's heart languish under sorrow, For lo thy JOY approacheth with the Morrow. The YOKE to Self, and CROSS to Flesh fly never, That DEATH may Die, and LIFE may live for ever; For, suffering Sword contentedly to slay The Mortal, thou in Battle winnest the Day; Then Thine's the Standard, and the Ensign spread, And thou in Zion knowst the Ruling head, Then Peace, than Joy, than Pleasures pure abound, And Solace sweet, as Walls, do thee surround: Then Sobs and Grief GOD from thy Land doth banish, And Sighs and Sorrows as a shade do vanish; Yea, of thy Trouble whilst thou wert forlorn, Remains not thought, for joy a SON is born. Wherefore, O Plants, wait in the Spirit meek, And in the drought from God the Showers seek; In which sweet state you shall me witness bear, God's fullness feeds each low heart full of fear: Who doth exalt the Spirit of the Humble, But the Exalted from his Seat doth tumble. When as the Woods in Summer time are green, The Thrustle's tune is heard though she not seen By any Mortal, yet there is an Eye, Which sees how she from Tree to Tree doth fly, And doth perceive whence her sweet Notes aspire, And what's the thing her life doth most desire, Which is the Book wherein I read your Race, Beyond wide-Lands, Seas, Time and utmost Space. And here with you I rest, I live and dwell, Like Silkworms hid in one wrought case and shell; Yea, lodged in a secret suckling Breast, Like as the young ones in the Turtles Nest. Dear Lambs, true number of the Shepherd's tale, As one by one I hug and kiss you all: Remembering you, I drop like molten Marrow, Yea, rent, like Fallow torn with the Harrow. Ah! feel my Bowels, which like Rain distils, And runs like Rivers down the steepest Hills: Yea, touch my panting heart and thereby learn, My soul most frequent after you doth yearn. I'm Ravished beholding virtue's graces, Of Heaven's Glory to o'erspread your faces; And cannot utter how my deeps abound, Of love to you, which in the Life are found. You're at the Fountain pure, I plainly see, And so am I, yet still remember me: There in the Spirit of Life, Joy, and Peace, Pray for your Brother, pray and never cease; For I am God's and Yours in every Trial, The which you know full well without denial: So read me, You, We, One, through Life's infusion, In the first Principle, and last Conclusion. Of JERUSALEM. THy Beauty hath enamoured me in virtue's Lodge of Rest, A flaming Torch thine eye may see of Love burns in my breast; Thou art the Stone which doth my Spirit whet, Like as the Razor which is newly set: Ah! feed my Edge that's ground exceeding sharp, To sing thy virtue's praise to David's Harp. For as an Host in Sion's Coast, of much more strength than Nations; Thou dost arise before mine eyes, in all my Contemplations. Here ends what was written in Rome-Prison of Madmen. To the Black Power. OH Earth hear this, Oh Earth, thy doleful End and Doom, God comes to sweep the Nations in dread as with a Broom; His mighty Day's at hand, the World to fan and purge, To visit all the Wicked, with his sore Plagues and Scourge. Oh Egypt, Sodom, thy Inhabitants must know, The Wind and Breath of GOD over thy Land to blow, To curse th' increase of Cattle, and all which thou call'st good, Thy Corn, and Wine, and Oil, and all increase of Food: And what one Plague doth leave, another shall devour, Till seven Vials of Wrath God on thy Land doth pour; Thy Fountains he'll dry up, like standing Pools of mud, Thy Prince's fairest Wells also shall become Blood: The Flower of thy Field, the Herb and Grass that's green, The Locusts come to eat that none in thee be seen, God from thee all thy strength and praise will rend and tear, And compass thee full sore, with trembling and with fear: Thou wouldst not let the Holy Seed free for to go; Therefore upon thee comes sore pangs of Wrath and Wo. Ye Pharaohs of the Earth saith GOD, What is your Host? Why say ye, What is GOD? Why do ye vainly boast? For GOD in Righteousness to save his Seed hath sworn Throughout the Land to slay, and cut off the Firstborn. You're folded in the thickness of the cloudy night; Yet GOD for Isr'el hath prepared a shining LIGHT, Whose Seed he'll lead by strength and power out of your Land, By his outstretched Arm and mighty dreadful Hand. woe then at last when you the SEED pursue and follow, Saying within your hearts, This Remnant we will swallow: For there's a Sea that's set as Walls for their Salvation. A Pit for Sodom's fall, for Egypt thy damnation. Read this your doleful Doom, you that in darkness dwell, The portion of the Wicked, the burning Lake and Hell. Your cursed wicked hearts, have robbed GOD of his Right, In that 've chosen Lust, and hated the true Light. To the Seed of the Kingdom. BUt Thou, O Holy SEED! a flame art in my breast, In whose sweet Life my soul hath its true Joy and Rest; Thy Life's a stream of Peace, which Consolation brings, And crowns with Glory more than Royalty of Kings. What shall I liken Thee unto, to show thy love, Which stands in Innocency, like the spotless Dove? Stronger than all that can be named, in which is breath; Thy Love, thy Light, thy Life, thy Love stronger than Death. Oh SEED! thou'rt Zion's Covenant, and wedded Band, Seal of Everlasting Marriage, given under hand; The Glorious Clothing of the Lily Field is thine, Brighter than Sun or Moon thy Countenance doth shine. The Nations of the Earth know not, nor can descry The Diadem, the depth of sight that's in thine Eye; With Thee I'm filled, I flow, I'm overcome with Love, I'm settled here in Thee, whom Nations cannot move, Saith Zion now which trav'ls, her Children forth to bring, That they may witness to the Glory of the King. Oh travel! full of travel! my soul cries out in pain! When shall I see Worm Jacob's rise from loss to gain? The time of Trouble's come, I'm overwhelmed with Grief, Till Jacob's time doth come Redemption and Relief; The feeling of my sorrows, who's set to see mine hours Of Lamentations streams; like Brooks, falling like showers. Oh blessed yet, that I have feeling for to see, For Jacob's sake my travel, like a little Bee. Here I would dwell, if happily to see his birth, Rather than feast in Dive's house t'enjoy his mirth. Oh SEED thou'rt his Redeemer, when wilt thou his life raise? That he unto thy Name may be ev'rlasting praise. And give him a Possession, as his perpetual right, T'inherit in the Land of Life, thy 'ternal Light. My head be thou lift up like a fiery Cloud, To Judgement and to Slaughter, of all the high and Proud; Oh! bend thy Bow, and shoot thine Arrows and thy Dart, And pierce the Wicked sore, and wound even to the heart; Send forth thy dreadful Voices, by Lightning and by Thunder; Astonish all the Heathen, and make the Nations wonder; Feed them with Terrors, as thou dost thine own with Bread, And let the Nations feel thy Vengeance and thy Dread. Oh! my right hand, draw out thy shining glittering Sword, Smite all the Shepherds of the Earth with thy pure Word. Gather thine own Remnant from East, West, North and South, From all the Sluggards and the slumbering Shepherds mouth. And bring thy Seed from Death and Darkness, to the Day, And from the Voice of such as have made them a prey; Let nothing hinder now, but work and let none let, Set Gins, set Snares, set Traps, to catch them in thy Net. 've slain and led thy Seed into Captivity, Reward them double the Wages of Iniquity; Cut off, destroy, The SEED Cries utterly confound, Pluck up, spare not a branch, nor leave a root in ground; That we the least, who are thine own, thine own Creation, May sing much Praise of Thee, the LORD of our Salvation. Let all the Heaven's shout, for BABYLON's undone; Let all the Earth now fear, for her just judgement's come; Her End is Misery, broken are her children's bones, For GOD hath seen it Just, to dash them all 'gainst stones. To BABYLON. THou that didst sit as Queen, and couldst not then think Of this thine hour and portion, the Cup which thou must drink; Thou than wert merry in thine heart, & couldst sup Idolatry, but now the dregs of Wrath's thy Cup. Thou didst not think when in thy Lusts thou wert full hot, The sealing up of Vengeance to be thy last lot. To the Man of Lust. YE sons of men, that live in Sin and Lust, That is your Canker, it will eat like rust; You that are ignorant of the Serpent's seed Of Enmity, and what in you 'twill breed, Hear this, and read the nature and the ground, That you in the true Wisdom may grow sound, To see the wind of the Serpent's path, To flee his snares, and so escape the wrath, Which on th' ungodly cometh, as a flood, To sweep them all, from all, which they call Good; And bring the end of sore perplexity Upon all workers of Iniquity. O man, incline thine ear to me, and read The fruits of that corrupted ground and seed, Which, as the plant of Satan, forth doth spring Pride, Lust and Drunkenness, and all that's sin, Whoredoms, Adulteries, Theft and all Evil, Oaths, cursed Speeches, Lies, works of the Devil; All flattering Titles, smooth deceitful words, Which wounds the Innocent, even as with Swords. These are the fruits of that plant of corruption, Which doth deceive the soul and bring destruction. Read this the Issue, when that GOD at last Blows over Fruit and Trees with his strong blast; That is the SEED which in thine heart doth spring, Telling thee what advantage Lies do bring Of the corrupted Mammon to thy store, And how false Oaths increase thee more and more; Still that's the Seed which tells thee sure thou must Have pleasure in this life, in Wine and Lust, In these and all persuasions unto Evil Working thy mind, that's the seed of the Devil. And yet if thou wouldst wisely further know, Thy heart's the ground in which that seed doth grow, Which seed must die through breaking of the ground, Else thou to Endless WOE and WRATH art bound. And now I'nquire of you, what are your hopes Which draw Iniquity, as with Cart-ropes? What is the fruit of Hope, Life and Salvation? And what's the ground in which is sealed Damnation? And you that live in Lust and full of mirth, Declare your gladness by your life and birth; And tell me, what's the Kingdom you possess As Heirs and Lords? your own you may confess. Tell me the end of all your Vanity, Feasts, Sports, Games, Mirth, Music and Melody? What is your Love affected hearts delight? To all this, if you can, answer the LIGHT, And give Account, How comes the Increase with Curse In Field, in House, in Basket, Store and Purse? Answer the SEED, what is the End of all Which live and die in sin, even in the fall? And thou that liv'st in sin whilst thou hast breath, Consider well thy last end when comes death. Come all you Sects and answer, What's the ground In which Iniquity is always found? Put all your Worships forth in your best order, And I will show how you join and border As Brethren, Neighbours, Nations, under one Power Of Satan's Kingdom, DARKNESS, in one hour, All linked in Sin together in a Chain, Which is the substance of the Devil's Reign: To that of GOD in Gentile and in Jew This savoureth as Salt, this thing is true. For what if you to all your forms are bound Of Worship? yet you standing in one ground Of Lust, of Sin, and Nature of Transgression, That binds in Unity beyond Confession. In substance there's but two, that's NIGHT and DAY, Sin DARKNESS the broad one: LIGHT the true way. And you in whom is love, and not of GOD, You are to drink his Wrath, and feel his Rod. If 've another love, than GOD's forgotten, Then the Affection's lost, the Heart is rotten, And that's not sound which wanteth any part: For GOD requires whole Man, Mind, Spirit, Heart; So this in Man is the Iniquity, Where's fleshly love, that's the Idolatry; For all that stands brought forth in the first nature, Sticks only fast to the Lust of the Creature, Here GOD's unknown, for in man's heart he'th set The World, with which he's snared as in a Net; So that GOD's Work Man knows not, not his Way, All which GOD brings to pass in his own Day. Nor can find out, although his days he spend In seeking, from beginning to the end. So all you that are in the History, Read if you can, and reach this Mystery, The Life that's hid in bottom of the Deep, What's that? and where's the place that Virgins weep? Because that of their own Affinity With them, hath lost the Life of Unity. Do you know what the swelling Seas devour, On which the Heavens once did smile, and shower Down drops of pleasant Rain, and made it spring, Like to a Lilly-flower for the King? The Wilderness whereto the Woman fled, What's that? how lodged SHE in a secret bed, To keep her Innocency undefiled, That she the Lamb's Wife justly might be styled? From all the unconverted and unhealed, The mysteries of GOD's Kingdom are all sealed, From Ignorant and learned in the World, That in Invention to and fro are hurled. The Parable is brought for all to see, The Unlearned saith, this is too hard for me; The Learned saith, to me it's also sealed: By which I know they yet remain unhealed. Some in their time have swollen like the Seas, And chose them paths, even what their hearts did please. Invention up did spring, and they were bound, In Chains of blackness; and cast to the ground; For they a work among them had begun, BABEL to build to mount above the Sun. To the Apostatised. TO them which heard the sound of GOD's great DAY, And came to see the straitness of the WAY, And owned the Testimony of the LIGHT, Confessing it which gave them the true sight Of all Sin, Evil, and Ungodliness, And saw some cleansing from their filthiness: But turning to their Vomit like the Dog, And to the Mire, like to the unclean Hog, Thy judgement's just to Woe and Misery, Being double wrought under Iniquity. Remember how thy heart and mind did grudge, To give up Life and all; which GOD will Judge; For thou unto the World in their distrust Art joined, to crave and seek to feed thy lust: And here thou sayest thou sin'st, and 'tis thy grief, Hopeless of cleansing here, in Unbelief. But mark the end of all that live and die in sin, I tell thee their sad doleful doom, Death is their sting. Nations, Professors all in sin bound in a bundle, Like as the sheaf of Tares, GOD in the Lake will tumble. To the simple Seeker. THou that dost pant, as one in want, and earnestly dost look, Like as the Roe, in places low to find the Water-brook. In travel great, in pain and sweat the River for to find, To bathe and cool, in the fresh Pool, like as the Hart and Hind. I see thy face, thou seekest for Grace, my Lily Seed come prove, Whilst it is day, I'll show the Way, the LIGHT's my Joy and Love. Oh he which hath, trodden in this path, hath seen the glorious Mountain, Which from whose top, Springs fall and drop, this is the endless Fountain. No longer think, but come and drink, refresh thee with the good; It's pleasant Wine, of the true Vine, the substance of all food. Be no more tossed, as one that's lost; but come unto the LIGHT, Which shows men's deeds, to be but weeds which grow in time of Night. And that within, which shows thy sin, if thou lov'st it sincere, Awe and fear GOD, and love his Rod, from sin it will thee clear. Be at a beck, when LIGHT doth check the secrets of thy mind; Let it reprove, join thou in love, and so true Peace thou'lt find. Do not gainsay, but still obey the Motions of the LIGHT; Through Fire to come, as one that's won against Deceit to fight. And thou wilt rest, as at the breast, sucking the Milk of pleasure, The Babe to nourish, the Life to flourish, this is th'everlasting Treasure. So in this hour, dwell in the Power which all the World doth chain, Prosper in th' Light, conquer in fight, and in Dominion reign. To the Babes of Blessing. TO my dear pleasant Babes and Lambs, Skipping like Rams over the Little Hills, Like leaping Roes on Mountains high, as Doves do fly whom Innocency fills. My Life and Spirit doth you greet, and with you meet in the sweet Fields of pleasure, The Garden where the Roses grow, and Waters flow, the Husbandman's own Treasure. When I beheld the lovely streams, and the Sun beams which cometh from on high, The shining Glory of the Sun, which you have won, unto the LORD so nigh. I'm filled beyond what words can measure, with Virtue's Treasure of Love to Virgins pure, Who were in many Tempests tossed, and yet not lost, which dwell in Zion sure. Who knows the Ships path in the Sea? So is your way, where Lions cannot tread, In which you witness strength and skill, to wound and kill and bruise the Serpent's head. Oh Lambs the fairest of all Flocks, upon you drops all Blessing from above, Fresh streams of Oil upon your head, lain in the Bed of Everlasting Love. Myrrh, Frankincense and Aluice, sweet Wine and Spice, and all that the Earth yields, Herbs, Flowers, Milk and pleasant Trees, Honey of Bees is Yours, in Woods and Fields. Oh! holy Land full of the Seed's increase, which cannot cease multiplying to the store; Being sealed in Covenant and Band, given under hand to this for evermore. SION'S ORATION. SAith Zion, all the Gold which Mountains hid In all the compass of the World so wide, And all the substance which the swelling waves Have swallowed in her Womb, like as the Graves; All precious Stones and Pearls, covered with Rocks, Hid under rotten roots of stumbling-blocks: All pure Silver that lies deep in ground, The time approacheth it must all be found. Arise, fair Daughter, gather quick and bring The Consecrated Substance to the King. And all ye sons, which Zion's womb did bear, Take Instrument in hand, work without fear Of Wolf, Fox, Tiger, Bear, or Lion; For GOD is the Salvation of Zion, Till that be finished which GOD hath decreed, The Restauration of his Holy SEED. Come, hunt the Wolves, and Wild-beasts of the Wood, Which slew the Lambs, and feasted on their Blood; For they're appointed in all times hereafter For starving, restless pangs of death and slaughter. Now GOD in Judgement comes to reprove Kings, To show their Counsels like as foolish things, Who seek with briars and thorns to stop the way, Which GOD by's Breath will burn in a day. Mark this your End ye Potsherds, GOD will rend Your Kingdoms; wherefore prize time and repent. The Babe's breathing to his Brethren. MY Sister's Sion's daughters joined in hand In Unity in th' Heaven's swaddling band, Which binds the World with Clouds, as under chains, There stands your Glory where the Eternal reigns. Our Mother bore her Children in much pain, In th'house where Judgement separated twain, Slaying the Seed of enmity and strife, The Seed of Promise to inherit Life; And broke the Covenant with Death and Hell, Under which, all the World, the Seed did sell. Shout, shout ye Sons, and fright the World, which boast Themselves in the great number of their Host. Oh! heavens declare, and let the World wonder, Strike Terror in the hearts of all their number: Let all their Consolation fade and quail, And let their strength in day of Battle fail: You in whose mouth the Word of Judgement stands, Lad all the World with WOE, and fill their hands, Utter your Voice and let the Thunder's rattle Through Elements and Air, sound to the Battle The Trumpet of the dreadful LORD of Hosts Among the Nations, throughout all their Coasts. The DAY of God's at hand, the LIGHT's his Word; GOD comes with Fire, Plague, Famine and with Sword, To plead with all flesh, living in Corruption, Upon their heads to bring swift fierce Destruction. Here I am set one of the living number, A Sign in Egypt, to Sodom's brood a Wonder. GOD's Power with His, is like a Fort of Steel, My Brethren in the Life you may me feel; For I am with you all under your Deep, Where all the Fishes swim, and Worms creep: Where Turtle-Doves do fly with outstretched wing, And where you hear the little Lark to sing, In that hid path, which all the World's Line Can't justly measure, to the End of Time, Even in that Bed where every soul is blest, I'm wrapped in fold for ever, for to rest With you, in all conditions to hold fast, That of the first in him, who is the last. From Venice Lazzaretta, J. P. When the Fountains of the Deep were broken open, I was in the Valley of the Mountain, and then I was moved to make mention of the Streams thereof. THE END.