THE Citizen's Flight With their recall; To which is added ENGLAND'S TEARS AND ENGLAND'S COMFORTS  
By JOHN QUARLES.  
London, Printed in the Year, 〈◊〉.   

THE CITIZENS Flight and Fear, etc.  

WHat does the Whale pursue a shoal of fish?  
Whether so fast; no safety, but in wish?  
Whether, ah! whether, will ye take your flight?  
God's Arrows fly by day, as well as Night:  
No Paths without a Judgement; Do not waste,  
And spend your times; bring danger by ye're haste:  
Stay, stay, lest in your hasty flight ye meet  
(Your hearts must bring your safety, not your Feet)  
The thing you fly from; Judgement knows no bound,  
And he that lurks most close is soon found:  
Can the poor timorous game lie hid, or balk  
The furious Talons of the Quick-eyed Hawk?  
The all-discerning eye of Heaven can see  
That ill which lurks in most obscurity;  
And he that hides himself, does but discover  
Himself, because God's Judgements always hover  
And fly aloof; there is no way to shun  
The piercing heat of the Meridian Sun:  
They must expect more Pestilential times,  
That lives in th' Equinoctial of their Crimes;  
The Dog-star of our lusts does now excel,  
And governs to a perfect Miracle:  
What shall we sin, and think our sins shall pass  
Without reward; shall we do good, Alas!  
(And that we seldom do) and not expect  
To bring our labour to a good effect!  
We cannot act but Heaven will sure regard  
Our actions, and afford us our reward,  
Especially if good, 'tis each mans-deed  
That either heals his wound, or makes it bleed.   

The hand of Heaven strikes sure, and he that flies  
To save his life, oft in his flying dies;  
But if we needs must fly, let our flight be  
Lord from our too too sinful selves to thee;  
If not, we only flutter in the night  
Not knowing how, nor where, we take our flight;  
We fly to th' terra incognita, and there  
Our flights rewarded with perpetual care;  
But if we to the Land of promise fly  
We enjoy the blessing of a serene Skey:  
There's, there's the place, where neither cold nor heat.  
Are in extremes, all things are good, and great;  
No diminutions, but completed Fate  
Is still supported in a constant State.   

My Muse is grown melodious and it sings (wings;  
We need not fear our flight when Heaven gives  
Angelic plumes can neither flag nor tire  
No air so powerful as a good desire;  
A good desire is like a Chemic heat  
Constant and fervent, not to small, nor great;  
For if it be not constant, it retards  
Putrefaction; and he's happy that regards  
The end of his beginning; he that begins  
In Mercy, is to blame to end in Sins:  
He sins indeed that sins against the light  
Of his own knowledge, let perpetual might  
Be still entailed on him that will not say  
He knows a difference betwixt night and day;  
Yet sin and ignorance makes all things dark,  
Light though contained in the smallest spark  
Is light enough to let our darkness know  
There is a God, whose goodness did bestow  
These lights upon us; a dark Lantern may  
Be light to others, yet to me 'tis day:  
Though heaven himself did oftentimes appear  
And speak in Clouds, yet was his language clear;  
Though he appeared in fire, he checked the flame,  
The bush was unconsum'd; though Moses came  
To see his face; yet he was glad at heart  
To know his fore-side, by his hinder part;  
I'm sure oh Lord thou hast no other face  
But what I want; and what is that? 'tis grace  
Lord I am satisfied, and I will be  
Content to feel the thing I cannot see,  
And let my last experience make it good,  
Thy hand is sealed with my Redeemers blood;  
I hope the Bond's uncanceled; if it be  
Lord thou art paid, I hope, and I am free;  
I mean from my Original; but Lord  
I must confess, I've lately past my word,  
And I have broke my promise, Lord the Gaol  
Must be my refuge, for I have no Bail  
Except thy Mercy, which I have so oft  
Abused, Lord, and at thy Judgements scoffed;  
That should I now presume to make a trial,  
I ' Justly might expect thy just denial:  
Yet why shouldst thou deny me? had the Thief  
His pardon, and shall I have no relief?  
Lord, pardon this my rashness, how dare I  
Expostulate with thee; or ask a why  
My lips are sealed, yet oh Lord, I dare?  
Give me but Grace, to open them by Prayer;  
As thou hast given Prayer for my heart,  
So give my heart for prayer; let me not part  
Till I am answered; nay, I will (if prayer)  
Has any power, extenuate my care,  
On purpose to enlarge it; I will be  
An Orator, till thy Divinity  
Shall melt, as Clouds drop fruitful showers of Rain,  
And make me only fit to beg again:  
All other Judgements whispers, this cries loud;  
Let's Judge the tempest, by th' approaching cloud;  
Oh how unhappy is that purblind Land  
That takes the little Finger for the Hand?  
Judgement will make us tremble by degrees,  
Reader, remember great Belshazars' knees;  
Needs must that woeful Nation be accursed,  
(Suspect Religion) when Divines fly first;  
They have forgot what was the Israelites hap,  
When powerful Moses sentenelled the gap:  
Will Moses fly from Aaron, oh hard-heart!  
'Tis a bad sign when loving Brother's part.  
How shall poor hungry Infants get their bread  
When their hardhearted Nurses all are fled;  
Oh cruel tyranny! what can be worse,  
When the poor Infant's murdered by the Nurse?  
Hardhearted Nurse; that can be so unkind,  
To fly away and leave her Babe behind;  
Fly Nurses, fly, to any secret place,  
But be so kind to leave the Babe of grace;  
I mean, your Charities; and then we shall  
By our Diseases thrive, when you will fall,  
By your despair, endeavour to be true,  
Then praise your God with soul and body too;  
For he that made them both, hath the same power  
To save them both from an unhappy hour;  
Be careful, and amidst your cares be just,  
There is no greater sin than sad distrust:  
Distrust invites a Plague, when humble zeal,  
Can palliate by degrees th' infected weal.  
Prayers, Sighs, and Tears, being well composed, can  
Cure all distempers incident to man.   

If this be then our Cure, let hearts and eyes  
Agree together; let our storms arise  
And never cease until they've spent their showers,  
When we have spent our store, Heaven shows his (powers:  
Our end is his beginning, let us end  
Our sins, and he will soon begin to send  
His Mercy to complete a happy story,  
For blessed beginnings always end in glory;  
Prayer is an introduction to our bliss  
And makes th' offender, and the offended kiss,  
Not kiss, and part; but kiss and so conjoin,  
And turn our tears of Water into Wine,  
Wine Sacramental, mercy makes it sweet  
Oh! happy time when sin and mercy meet;  
Meet, not to stay together; but to part,  
For both cannot be welcome to one heart.   

Have I not seen a flock of Birds, whose flight  
Has been occasioned by a sudden fright;  
Fly up and down and clamoring in the Air  
Expressed their sudden fright and present care?  
Nay I have known such fear has been among  
Those clamorous Birds, that they have left their young:  
Why does the City thus pursue the Court?  
Knowing, ah lass! this is no age for sport,  
For game's out of fashion in these times;  
Yet we may stake, and pray away our Crimes;  
The looser's only happy, for he wins  
That loses, by Divinity, his sins:  
But stay (Kind Reader) let's a little pause,  
And see if we can find, where lies the Cause;  
What think'st thou of a sinful heart that lies  
Groaning beneath his griping miseries?  
What think'st thou of a sin-infected breast  
That is by nothing but itself oppressed?  
What think'st thou of a Nation whose sad crimes  
Hath so infected our perplexed times  
That 'tis impossible by humane skill  
To give a Remedy to so much ill?  
Call all thy faculties, and let them join  
Themselves together, and by faith combine;  
Let's search each cranny of our sinful hearts,  
And let us weep as we have sung, in parts;  
Le's weep until our tears do overflow  
Our sorrow; let us sigh until we know  
What 'tis to barter happiness for grief,  
'Tis only Faith can Crown us with relief.   

Now courteous Reader, give me leave to make  
A small digression: Know 'tis for thy sake  
That I endeavour by a faithful art  
To give a Cordial to each bleeding heart:  
When once 'tis known where the distempets lie  
We may the sooner hope for remedy;  
That Patient much in understanding fails  
That will not tell his Doctor what he ails;  
Oh! who would not his thankful patient be  
Where Physic and advise are both so free?  
His Physic hath such operative power  
That it gives ease in less than half an hour;  
Oh depth of mercy! oh unbounded skill!  
Oh rare prescription of a sacred will!  
Then do not fly, but let your hopes increase,  
Repent, and then he surely will speak peace;  
Till then 'tis but in vain to move, or fly;  
Oh! look upon him with a watchful eye,  
Then shalt thou see how soon he will impart  
His heavenly joys to a contristed heart;  
Remember he is not a God of blood,  
But takes delight to do a sinner good:  
Remember those blessed Tears which once he shed  
Over Jerusalem; and how he spread  
His mercy over Israel, and pours  
His goodness on our heads in liberal showers;  
He is a God whose mercy knows no bounds;  
His balm of grace being poured into our wounds  
Does so complete our Cure, and ease our pain,  
That the Disease will ne'er return again;  
And being from our maladies set free;  
The gold of prayer is all the Doctor's Fee:  
The Scriptures are our guide, 'tis that which tells  
Where this most kind and blessed Physician dwells;  
Faith, Hope and Charity, those sacred three  
Are his Housekeepers, and Humility,  
His lodging Chamber, and the faithful Breast  
The Kitchen where his Diet must be dressed:  
Oh Lord! we know thy Table's always spread,  
Oh give us faith, that we may eat thy bread;  
And since thy goodness thou hast thus expressed,  
'Tis no presumption, Lord, to be thy guest;  
Thou freely dost invite, and shall not we  
Answer thy invitation and be free  
To make our near approaches; Lord enable  
Our hearts, that we may come unto thy table;  
And then, O Lord! thy table being spread,  
Bless us with grace and we will eat thy bread;  
We'll eat thy heavenly Manna without strife,  
And feed our souls to everlasting life;  
We'll praise thy name for what thy goodness sent,  
As we have sinned we'll labour to repent,  
That so thou may'st commis'rate and remove  
Thy Judgements, and then Crown us with thy Love;  
Then shall our thankful hearts proclaim and tell  
What thou hast done for thine own Israel;  
Then shall our joyful lips proclaim a peace,  
Whilst grace and mercy ever more increase;  
And let us know when Judgement comes so near,  
That ruin or repentance must appear;  
Delays are dangerous; let's therefore pray  
And call upon him whilst 'tis yet to day,  
That so our timely sorrows may remove  
His heavy Judgements, and entreat his love  
Once more to shine upon us, that we may  
Enjoy the comfort of a glorious day:  
Oh let's consider we have long been free,  
But still ungrateful for our liberty;  
Oh let us think how long we have been fed,  
Yet seldom praised that hand which gave us bread;  
Oh let's remember how forgetful we  
Have been, and how abused prosperity;  
Oh let's consider how Religion stood  
Not long since more than Ankle deep in blood;  
Let's call to memory, when our hearts decayed,  
How Heaven revived us and increased our Trade;  
What store of mercy have we to persuade us  
To bless that hand that both preserves and made us?  
For should we own his mercies with neglect  
We may injustice every day expect  
New punishments, who studies to offend  
Must not expect a peace or happy end!  
Oh let us not against our maker Kick;  
'Tis too much honey that hath made us sick;  
How wanton have we been in former times?  
And still make idols of our bosom Crimes;  
Thus we, persisting in our Follies, dare  
Just Heaven to strike, whose goodness does forbear,  
Whilst we even hug our ruin, and invite  
Judgement to make an everlasting night.   

But if Poetic Lines have any power  
Let me persuade my Reader from this hour  
To be considerare, And thus begin  
To ruminate: Alas! it is my sin  
Hath caused these Judgements; Therefore is't not fit  
That I who did industreously commit  
So many Crimes, should by my fervent prayer  
Endeavour to extenuate my care?  
There is a balm in Giliad can make sound,  
And Cure the anguish of the deepest wound;  
The Heavenly Chiron hath so great a store,  
That he can find a Salve for every sore;  
He that hath promised will in mercy please  
To give unto the heavy Laden ease;  
We may be confident, and boldly trust  
In him that is both merciful and just:  
How happy is our flight, as oft as we  
Fly from ourselves, oh Lord, and fly to thee;  
Not do we ever with Devotion pray,  
But thou dost meet our language half the way;  
And when our zeal does once begin to burn  
Then dost thou bless us with a quick return;  
Then why should we distrust so good a God  
That always shakes (before he strikes) his Rod?  
Thy mercy keeps us in the darkest night,  
Nor dost thou in a sinner's Death delight;  
Oh let thy goodness spare us, for thine ire  
We know full well is all-consuming fire;  
It is thy mercy (Lord) must make us blest,  
Alas, we are but stubble at the best;  
O turn us (Lord) or else we cannot turn;  
For as we are, w' are only fit to burn,  
And if we needs must burn, oh Lord, reveal  
Thyself unto us till we flame in zeal;  
Such holy flames (oh Lord) will so aspire  
That thou wilt take a pleasure in our fire;  
A zealous flame gives a most glorious light;  
A Christian like a Glow-worm, shines at night;  
I care not Lord how dark I seem to be  
Unto the world, if I am light in thee;  
Oh let him grope in everlasting night  
That will not own thee for the chiefest Light;  
Be thou oh Lord, my Light, my Guide, my Way,  
Then shall I never err, nor go astray;  
He need not fear in slippery waves to slide  
That is supported by so blest a Guide;  
A guide, whose goodness can as well direct  
In power, as he in mercy can protect;  
Be pleased oh Lord, to bring my feeble sight  
From my Caemerian darkness to thy light;  
Oh give me light enough to let me see  
My horrid darkness, let my object be  
Thy mercies; then shall my eclipsed eyes  
Have light enough to see my miseries,  
Lord let me see my sins, for sin and I  
Even like the Basilisk, first discovered, die;  
Then may I sing with a most heavenly mirth,  
The death of sin gives Righteousness a birth;  
The death of sin does period all our strife,  
The life of sin is but a dying life.   

Thus subtle death lies lurking in our sins  
To catch us (when we struggle) in his gins,  
But they that will avoid his crafty snare  
Must first discover it by faith, and prayer;  
And when discovered, it may well be said  
The crafty traitor is himself betrayed;  
Although he exercise his power so fast  
Yet he himself shall be destroyed at last,  
Whilst we (then glorified) shall sit and sing  
Death where's thy power, oh Grave where is thy sting?  
Then why should we (fond mortals) fear or dread  
The thing that cannot hurt us, if we spread  
Our arms to Heaven; he'll take us by the hand  
And safely lead us to the promised Land;  
Then shall we have no cause to fear or doubt;  
We that come weeping in, go smiling out;  
Happy are we, if we the truth embrace,  
Though we were born in sin, we die in grace;  
The Midwife's hand even dragged us to our Birth  
Whilst we poor lumps of senseless, living Earth  
Lie crying in her lap; but know not why  
Yet every tear is then a prophecy;  
The tender Infant does no sooner break  
The prison of the Womb, but seems to speak  
To this effect. Behold, see I am come  
Naked and shiftless from my Mother's womb:  
What shall I do, I have nor feet, nor hands  
But what are useless, griping sorrow stands  
Ready to snatch me from my Mother's breast,  
Not suffering me to take a minute's rest.  
Is this the world that foundlings dote upon?  
Oh that I had but power to be gone!  
I quickly would find out a place should be  
Exempt from all encroaching misery;  
This is no place of rest, I may deplore  
Myself, ah lass! I never cried before;  
What, was I born to cry? strange kind of Birth,  
Hard fate indeed, all Sorrow, and no Mirth!  
Could I have kept my fleshly Cloister still  
I never than had known th' effects of ill;  
But since my Birth hath brought me to distress  
My patience and my prayers shall make it less;  
But stay, alas, my Birth is not the cause  
Of my sad sorrows, but the breach of Laws;  
'Tis that, 'tis that which wounds me to the heart  
'Tis I that sinned, 'tis only I must smart  
'Tis only I; 'tis I, that must prepare  
To bear the burden of mine own made care.   

Who yields to sin except he does repent  
As well must yield unto the punishment;  
If we do well, we then expect reward  
But if we sin; we sin without regard:  
How disingenuous are we in our wills  
To goodness, how ingenious in our ills?  
These are the things for which our guilty Land  
Is now afflicted, and convicted stand;  
'Tis but in vain to plead except it be  
To mercy; for our quick delivery,  
We're our own Gaolers, yet we have not power  
To give ourselves the freedom of an hour;  
Our turn-key sins does lock us up so fast  
We cannot stir, we must contrive to cast  
Away our crimes; and then we must prepare  
By heavenly art to pick the lock by prayer;  
This is the way to freedom: Now I find  
My own mistake, free mercy is so kind  
That neither lock, nor door, nor bar can be  
Infringers of a Converts liberty;  
A sigh will melt the doors and break the lock,  
Nothing opposes, when by Faith we knock;  
And if the Hammer of our zeal be strong  
We shall not need to give attendance long;  
Knock, and it shall be opened; seek and find,  
There's nothing hard unto a willing mind,  
Run, and ye shall obtain, Lord give us grace  
That in our running we may mend our pace;  
Oh let thy mercy with our sorrows meet  
And then we shall have wings as well as feet;  
And then we shall be sure to run the race  
Of mercy, and to take our flight in grace;  
For when in flight, or running, we shall spend  
Our zealous strength, oh Lord be thou the End.    

The recall.  

STrange times my Masters, what unusual sight  
Hath terrified you to this sudden flight?  
Still full of jealousies and fears, no hope  
Of a re-settlement; ah give not scope  
Too much to your own fancies, but incline  
To bend your hearts to what is more Divine:  
But stay, perhaps ye'ave lately had a sight  
Of your own sins, and that has caused this flight;  
Then fly until your eyes of faith have found  
The Grand Physician that must make you sound;  
Fly, till your wings are tired, fly night and day,  
Mount in your flight, and in your flying, pray;  
Pray till the fervent heat of true bred zeal  
Shall melt your wings, your melting will reveal  
Your penitency, and Repentance brings  
A good Embassage from the King of King's  
Faith is the souls Ambassador, and prayer  
The Embassy; the Hosts of heaven prepare  
His entertainment, Sun, and Moon, and Stars  
Are the swift Lackeys that forerun his Wars;  
Thus whilst in hostile manner he appears,  
Judgement beats up the Drum for Volunteers:  
What shall we do (dear Countrymen) our crimes  
Are so outrageous, that the worst of times  
Is our expectance; let's contrive, and think  
What's best to do, for we are at the brink  
Of speedy ruin, and our senseless Land  
Is crushed in pieces by an Iron hand,  
An Iron hand of Justice, and 'tis vain  
T'oppose, except by faith; nay we shall gain  
More blows by opposition than (I'm sure)  
'Tis possible for nature to endure,  
For what is nature in her greatest power  
But weakness, and that weakness, every hour  
Subject to sad mutations, humane skill  
Like Josiah's Sun, goes backward, or stands still;  
Alas, we are like bulrushes, inclined  
To shake with every feeble blast of wound,  
We have no perminancy, every minit  
Brings a most sudden alteration in it;  
For what is man if rightly understood,  
But a poor fabric, cemented with blood,  
Daubed o'er with flesh, which one poor shower of rain  
Washes away; thus momentary, vain  
Is silly man, a perfect Coin of sorrow,  
Received to day and paid away to morrow;  
Although at first he was a noble Coin,  
Stamped with that image which was all Divine,  
Yet by his own endeavours he defaced  
Himself, and by his fall so much disgraced  
His frail and weak posterity, that time  
Can not obliterate so soul a Crime,  
Till mercy, when observing the pursuit  
Of vengeance, brings us a most blest recruit,  
Which on a sudden turned the seal, and then  
From miserable, we grew happy, men;  
Happy in our Redeemer who thought good  
By snedding his, to stop our guilty blood,  
He by his sufferings did our woes obtrude;  
If this be mercy, where's our gratitude?  
Nor is his goodness tired, he still remains  
Our Mediator; for our former stains  
Are so apparent, that the best of art  
Cannot give ease to a tormented heart;  
And if our sins do more and more abound,  
Judgement at last will be with vengeance Crowned;  
What shall we do? what art, what skilful hand  
Can give a prescript to a sinful Land?  
To whom shall we address ourselves? our skills  
Are made imperfect by our stubborn wills,  
Our wills areso antarctic to what's good,  
That we are lost except we make a flood,  
A swelling flood, with water from our eyes,  
That we may floar above our miseries;  
There is an Ark of safety to be found  
Which we must either fly unto, or drowned;  
Let's make a flood with our repentant tears,  
That Noah's Ark may save us from our fears;  
There let us rest until our Dove appear  
And bring us tidings that the Land is clear?  
We may lament and woefully bewail  
Our miseries; oh let's not tyre, and fail  
In our repentance, but to ease our grief  
(In multitudes of mercy lies relief)  
Let's fly to heaven upon the wings of zeal,  
And in an humble manner there reveal  
The sorrows of our hearts; when we begin  
To swim in sorrow, we shall sink from sin▪   

Oh let the language of a hearty Verse,  
Beloved Countrymen, take root, and pierce  
Your stubborn hearts, I write not out of Pride  
But out of zeal; I swell not with the tide  
Of a Vainglorious scribbler, but desire  
By zeal-hot Verse to set your hearts on fire:  
But you may say, and what you say, is true,  
That your Advisor is as bad as you:  
I do confess it with unfeigned lips;  
But what's the Sun the worse for his eclipse?  
The heavenly luminaries suffer pain  
By their eclipses, yet do shine again;  
Never could any day be yet so proud  
To lay it was not darkened by some Cloud;  
And shall proud mortals dare presume to crave  
A privilege to go dancing to their Grave;  
Would they find heaven on earth? no, heaven is higher  
Though ●ften seated in a low desire;  
Is not heaven humble, when 'tis often found  
So zealously inclined to kiss the Ground?  
Does not his heavenly influences make  
The grass to spring for the poor Creatures sake?  
Prayer is Angelic food, shall mortals be  
Hardhearted, and so starve that hierarchy?  
No, let our zealous Charities abound,  
And then our labours shall be freely Crowned  
With everlasting glory, and our peace  
Never be waning, but shall still increase,  
Increase, with so much plenty, that the earth  
Shall groan in labour with a swelling birth,  
Whilst satisfied mortals all shall sing  
Anthems of peace to their mellifluous King;  
And all, this all, is but the least of all,  
It is a blessed Eternity that shall  
Crown us at last with everlasting bliss;  
Now tell me Reader what thou thinkst of this,  
Tell me what thinkst thou, wouldst thou not be quiet  
And well content, to have such lasting diet?  
Nay, when thoust eat, thy fill, it shall be said  
thouart freely welesme, and thy reckoning paid;  
Be not so much a Clown after all this cost  
To go away, and not say, Thank thee Host;  
Observe the thirsty fowls that never sup  
His plenty, but they gratefully look up;  
Observe the very beasts how oft they gaze  
Up to the heavens, and lowing, give him praise;  
Observe each creature in his several kind,  
As if by Nature they were all inclined  
To give him thanks, do in a several tone  
As tw're express their gratitude, and own  
His liberality; whilst thankless men  
Looks downward on the earth, and now, and then  
Sends forth a sign or two, which often fly  
Rather from nature than Divinity;  
Then how can we expect that daily burn  
In our own flames, Astrea will return?  
How can we hope that heaven will Crown our days  
With happiness, except we give him praise?  
Shall we live still in darkness, when we may  
Enjoy the blessing of a glorious day?  
Shall we be still contriving how to be  
The sole infringers of our liberty?  
Poor silly mortals! how do we contrive  
As 'twere to bury our own selves a live?  
How senseless are we, that we neither look  
Abroad, nor home, but like a Land forsook,  
We fall into despair, nor do we make:  
Our moans to heaven or hardly pity take  
Upon ourselves; so stupid are we grown,  
That we are like a City turned to stone;  
Our zeal is lost; our Charity is fled;  
Our health is vanished, and our faith is dead;  
Our love is turned to envy, and our praise  
To chattering Nonsense, and our spreading Bays  
To heaps of Nettles; thus, thus have we lost  
Our former happiness, and heaven his cost;  
Thus, thus, most obstinately all have run  
Against the rocks, and wilfully undone  
Our stubborn selves; what hopes can we derive  
From our imperious sins, that we shall thrive  
In grace, that spreading mercy may incline  
To do us good, and take us from the brine  
Of our own Crimes; oh grievous is his end,  
That lives, and sadly dies, without a Friend;  
Oh sea of sorrows! oh tumultuous care!  
What shall we do, to whom shall we repair?  
We run from place to place, and are unkinds';  
Never regarding those we leave behind;  
Should heaven deal so by us, what were we then  
But as w'areworst of sinners, worst of men;  
What can we call our own? all things were sent  
In mercy; and in grace they must be spent,  
Oh grief to speak it! was there ever known  
A fitter opportunity to own  
And use his blessings? know what is not used  
In times of Charity is but abused;  
'Tis like the Israelites Manna if not spent  
It will corrupt, and he that freely sent  
Expects a free return; the poor man's hand  
Is his Exchequer; do not doubtful stand  
But pay in freely; and ye shall be blest  
With more than double, double interest;  
And than your praise shall be recorded thus,  
That Dives now's turned good to Lazauw!  
Then shall the poor man's prayers and widows eyes  
Prevail, and keep you from those miseries  
Which may ensue; oh let not the advice  
Of a poor sinner turn your hearts to ice;  
But rather melt your souls into a flood  
Of Love; remember whose most precious blood  
Streamed freely forth on purpose to relieve  
The poor; it was their sorrows made him grieve;  
It was his grief that made our sorrows cease,  
It was his bloody war procured our peace;  
It was his glory made our darkness shine,  
It was his Vinegar that proved our Wine;  
It was his stripes that made us truly sound;  
It was the Balsam of his bleeding wound,  
That eased our pain; oh here! oh here's the Cure!  
But where's the thanks? it was he that did endure  
But we that sinned; oh love exceeding measure,  
His pain was the forerunner of our pleasure;  
His stripes has made us whole, what need we more  
But thanks? accept it Lord, 'tis all our store;  
'Tis a thin gratitude, thou art Divine,  
Oh therefore turn our water into Wine;  
And when dear Lord thy mercy is about  
Such works of wonders, turn our insides out;  
Oh heal our Leprosy of sin, and then  
We'll boast that we are more than perfect men;  
Thou that canst Cure the blind, the deaf, the lame,  
In healing us wilt get a double same;  
For we are more than deaf, or lame, or blind,  
Therefore (oh Lord) be unto us more kind,  
For we have cripple consciences; each heart  
Of ours is dead; oh raise them by thy art;  
And let our eyes make such a sea of tears,  
That we may walk upon it without fears;  
And when thy judgement brings us to the brink,  
Oh let's remember Peter did not sink;  
And when thy Cock of mercy, Lord, shall Crow  
Let's turn about and weep away out woe,  
And let's remember but the Cripples touch  
And then oh Lord we'll throw away our Crutch;  
Oh let's remember but the blind man's sight,  
And we shall come from darkness into light;  
Oh let's prepare our hearts and then we may  
Instead of running from thy Judgements stay;  
And staying may most happlly embrace  
The welcome glory of thy spreading grace,  
That so our faculties may all combine,  
To give thee praise that makes our visage shine;  
Then shall we live in a most prosperous peace  
Our Corn, and Oil, shall ever more increase;  
Want, then shall be a stranger, to our Land,  
And liberal mercy take off Judgements brand;  
Then every one with freedom shall incline  
T' enjoy the fruitful Figtree and the Vine:  
Thus mercy shall appear unto our Land,  
And lead in welcome blessings by the hand:  
Then shall our joys increase as 'twas of old  
The Wolf and Lamb shall cabin in one fold;  
Religion shall increase and bless our days  
With sound Divinity; immortal praise  
Shall fly to him whose mercy was so free  
To own us in our great extremity:  
Judge Reader, judge with what a pleasing eye,  
The patient looks to see his Doctor by;  
The Galley slave that ruggs the painful Oar  
Rejoiceth when he seeth a pleasant shore;  
And shall not we that wander in our crimes  
Rejoice to see illuminated times;  
And let us (say whose lives are but a span)  
With double admiration, What is man!  
Lord what is man that thou art so inclined  
To have him seated always in thy mind?  
And shall we not return our thanks with prayer  
That always make our miseries, his care;  
Shall we whose sins do more and more increase  
Beny, If we repent, a proffored peace?  
Shall we that have a long time been at wars  
Deny to put a period to our jars?  
Shall we whose sad calamities increase  
Deny to say thrice welcome, welcome Peace?  
And shall not we (incompased with a throng  
Of mercies) let Hosanna be our song?  
Shall we be silent, and contented be  
To eat the fruit, and not applaud the Tree?  
Oh let not such ingratitude be laid  
Unto our charge; oh let it not be said,  
That we in times of mercy can be mute,  
And kill the tree that gives us pleasant fruit;  
Oh let us not, like sucking Children, by't  
Our Nurse's Nipple, let us not delight  
In youthful vanities; oh let's not cry  
Because weare fed, let not our deluged eye  
Find quiet rest until our sins appear  
Minute, like Atoms, in a day that's clear;  
Oh let us, whilst it is to day repent,  
And understand that Judgements oft are sent  
In tender mercy, zealous David found  
Himself a King indeed when he was Crowned  
With his affliction; Patience is a Jemm;  
Saul seeking Asses, found a Diadem;  
Whist others, oh I pity them! Ah lass,  
Looking for Diadems do find an Ass;  
Our ancient Records tell us planly how  
An Ass spoke once, w'ave many do so now;  
By which we fully may perceive, what then  
Were Miracles, are common now, to men.    

England's Tears.  
STay passenger, and let thine eyes  
Survey my ample miseries;  
Stay, and give ear unto my story,  
How I lost my former glory;  
The mask of Judgement now does shroud  
My visage with a sin-black cloud:  
Sin hath got the upper hand,  
And Judgement ruleth in my Land;  
My raging sorrows much increase  
And I have lost my wont peace,  
Nor do I know which way to bend  
My course; or find a constant friend  
I am infected from my Crown  
Even to my sole, the angry frown  
Of Heaven pursues me; and torments  
My heart with sullen discontents:  
My Soul is sick, my Spirits fail  
And I am, to myself, a Goal;  
Imprisoned in my sins I lie  
For want of good security.  
He that was wont to set me free  
Infringes now my liberty,  
Oh rashness! how am I mistaken,  
'Tis he indeed was first forsaken  
That now forsakes; oh 'tis but just  
To blow away presumptuous dust;  
Dust, so audacious, that it flies  
Into the heedless maker's eyes;  
And to reward so great a Vice  
He turns presumptuous dust, to Lice,  
Oh tell me, tell me, what is worse  
Than Egypt's sin, and Egypt's curse?  
He whose mercy could not win,  
Now justly scourges us for sin;  
If sin will needs presume to rain  
It must be crowned with grief and pain;  
Nor is it fit a King should be  
Without attendants: Misery  
Is sins Lifeguard, there's no relief  
Except it be successive grief;  
When Judgement sounds a charge, what arms  
Can save us from those fierce alarms?  
There is no running, Horse, and Foot  
Must be prepared to stand to ' it;  
And when he sees his foes decline,  
He gives the word; Vengeance is mine:  
What weakness is it then to boast  
Ourselves against the Lord of Host;  
ist not a madness then to be  
Soldiers without Artillery?  
For if our Ammunition fail,  
We are quite routed and turn tail;  
Nay, here lies the greatest spite,  
weare most in danger, when in flight,  
And so we shall both see and feel  
Judgement can wound us in the heel;  
But if we will avoid a Rout  
We then must wisely face about,  
And so we may by mild degrees  
Conquer Heaven upon our knees;  
The Gun-shot of our hearty prayers,  
Will make the Bulwarks melt like tears:  
We shall be Masters of the field  
When true repentance make him yield;  
Oh that plunder must be good  
That is obtained with tears, not blood;  
Wiled not be a happy chance  
To take and keep his Ordinance;  
Oh 'twill be good to fortify  
The Castles of our hearts, and try  
The power of Satan, who will run  
If he but sees a Heavenly Gun;  
Though he loves fire, he proclaims  
How much he hates those heavenly flames;  
The way t'void so bold a guest  
Is to keep flames within our breast,  
And then we need not fear nor fly,  
We may be wounded, but not die;  
Nay, every wound we have shall be  
Th' assurance of our Victory:  
And if we chance to bleed, oh then  
Let's dress our wounds, and to't again,  
Let's neither face, nor wheel about,  
Until we give a perfect rout;  
Then, then, we shall be sure to lie  
Guarded with security.   

He prayed and the Plague ceased.  

PRayer and the Plague are two most powerful things,  
Being both derived from the King of Kings;  
The Plague is sent to punish us, but prayer  
Extenuates our grief; and crowns our care  
With quick deliverance; for he that sent  
His Plague, must give us mercy to repent:  
He healed those waters which in former times  
Received infection from the people's Crimes;  
Prayer is that Balm of Giliad which makes sound  
A heart that bleeds itself into a wound,  
A wounded heart heaven never can despise,  
Wounds are best cleansed with waters from our eyes;   

Hark Reader, hark, what now my Muse resounds  
We may want streams, but never shall want wounds;  
Heaven bottles up our tears; let us deny  
Ourselves, and then those bottles needs must fly;  
Fly till th'ave made more than Duc aliens flood  
(Who swims in mercy, cannot drowned in blood)  
Let's but remember the reward of Vice,  
The very dust being turned into Lice;  
The croaking Plague of Frogs may make us know,  
No sin can be exempted from a woe:  
And since we have out-sinned that former age  
We well may now expect a double rage;  
Since multiplied crimes so much increase,  
'Tis Error not to bid adieu to Peace.   

'Tis fit oh Lord that we should know that Air  
Which is infected must be cleared by prayer,  
If not, we must expect most fatal times;  
For Judgements are still incident to crimes,  
If we transgress, Lord, can we think that thou  
Canst look upon us with a candid brow;  
Needs must we think out sorrow will increase,  
When we unto ourselves will speak no peace.  
Oh Lord, how more than desperate fools are we  
That by our sins make open war with thee,  
What's our Artillery worth? our best defence  
Must be thy grace, and our own innocence;  
Oh give us grace, (since sorrow makes us flee,)  
To flutter from ourselves, and rest in thee;  
But thou art angry, Lord, how shall we dare  
To came to thee that hast lio cause to spare  
Such obstinate offenders: Lord, how oft  
Have we abused thy mercies; nay, and scoffed  
At petty judgements; they that will not own  
The lest of mercies, must resolve to groan  
Under the greatest Judgement, when our sins  
Has made us ripe, thy Judgement then begins  
To shake the tree; which makes us rudely fall  
And bruise each other to our Funeral.  
But, Lord, if we can make it but our care  
First to repent, it will be thine, to spare.   

Oh Lord, we must submit unto thy powers,  
Mercy is thy delight, and sin, is ours;  
What shall we say, or do? all we can say  
Is this; we've sinned, and we have no way  
To shun thy Judgement; therefore we must flee  
First from ourselves (oh Lord) and then to thee;  
But what are we the better if we fly  
From our own selves unto an angry eye,  
An eye that's so consuming, that one frown  
Has more than power enough to cast us down;  
Nay, cast us down so low, that we must be  
In desperation of recovery:  
But if we pray to heaven, his hand has power  
To raise us in one minit of an hour;  
And shall not then his glorious name be praised,  
Oh let us think how Lazarus was raised:   

Now Reader, give me liberty to make  
A small digression; my own self must take  
Myself in hand, and to the world express  
My thanks to him who in despite of ill  
Preserved me (as I hope) to do his will:  
'Twas so that fortune lately brought me down  
So low that I was suuk, ready to drown;  
But by a powerful arm he thought it good  
In mercy, to preserve me from the flood:  
And shall I then despair? no, let my Friends  
Still gaze upon me, Job had no bad ends;  
Though some rash words, Lord, let my sorrows be  
Upon me, till in Faith I turn to thee;  
Oh turn me, for indeed I am so weak  
I cannot turn myself, nor can I speak  
Till thou unty'st my tongue; which if by thee  
Untied, my language shall be truly free:  
The language of a sinner to his God  
Pronounced in zeal impedes the powerful Rod  
From lashing him, oh Lord, I truly know  
Thy Rod is kindness rightly used, not woe;  
Witness thy servant who (thrice happy) stood  
Assured that affliction was his good;  
And since 'twas so, oh give me grace to see  
Being good for him, it must be good for me;  
Affliction, like good Physic, must be sure,  
To make us sick, before it makes a Cure;  
Oh happy's, he that this grand truth can tell  
He's truly sick indeed, in being well▪  
Affliction's no disgrace, 'tis but a sign  
That all the graces jointly do combine  
T'administer the freeness of their will,  
To part the grieved Patient and his ill;  
And thus th' inclining graces gently strive  
To keep th' impatient patient still alive,  
That so he may with bounty give the Fee  
Of humble thanks to him that set him free;  
Suppose thou wert imprisoned with the Goursey;  
So tortured that thou couldst not go about  
Thy necessary business; wouldst thou be  
Ungrateful to that hand that set thee free?  
Consider, wouldst thou? nay, consider well,  
Think once again, and having thought, then tell,  
Tell what thou thinkst; me thinks I hear thee say  
Heaven bless that hand that took my grief away;  
He healed me, shall not grateful I, advance  
My Thoughts, and sing forth my deliverance;  
Oh give me David's Harp, and David's Heart  
Then will I sing his praise in every part,  
That so at last I gravely may express  
Full Diapasons of my happiness;  
And when his mercies I have truly found  
I'll run Division on a pleasant ground;  
I le tune myself to such a perfect strain  
That every Note shall ravish every brain,  
That were old Orpheus living he should say  
His Music was but discord to my lay:  
Needs must that song be ravishing and true  
When Heaven makes th' Music, and Musician too;  
Oh let me be well sounded with desire,  
And thou wilt play most sweetly on thy Lyre;  
Thy sacred fingers will touch every string  
With such perfection, that vvhilst Angels sing  
Man shall admire in Raptures, and proclaim  
Perpetual Hallelujahs to thy Name.   
FINIS.