SOLILOQVIES THEOLOGICALL.  I am alone, and yet I am not stone, for the Father is with me. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Thy people shall be Munificencies (free Princely Heroicalnesses, thy Volunteers) in the day of thy Power (thy Army) in the beauties of Holiness.  Psal. 110. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  In that day it shall be said, I am for the Lord. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
They steadfastly beheld him, and were abundantly enlightened.  Psal. 34.5. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  Sophocles. 
Surely men of high degree are vanity, men of low degree a lie, to be held in the balance, they are altogether lighter than vanity.  Psa. 62.8. 
Heu quantillum videmus! Nil scimus, nil sumus.  
We know, we are, nothing.  
And unto man he saith, Behold, the fear of the Lord that is wisdom, and to departed from evil is understanding.  Job. 
They have rejected thy word, therefore is there no wisdom in them.  Jer. 
By J. S. Gent.  
London Printed by G. Bishop, and R. White, for Tho. Vnderhill, at the Bible in Woodstreet. 1641.   

Christian Reader,  
THou I mean who art not the nominal, but the real, not the titular, but the title-inlivening Christian. Whose heart knows the meaning of such a dreadfully glorious, and gloriously dreadful undertaking, to be called by the name of God. Thou that fearest the Lord greatly, and art greatly awed at the least of his words. Thou with whom the goodliest profession will pass but for a guilded formality, that suffers itself to be wanting in morality. As knowing there may be some virtues where there is no grace; but there can be no grace where there is not all virtues. As knowing where the choicest eminencies of nature come short, their Christianity exceeds; where the Moralist ends, the Divine gins. He that lives not soberly and righteously, it is impossible he should live godlily. It is works that must justify our faith, as well as faith our works. It is a Christ of our own making, (and not Jesus the Son of God) that is learned otherwise. While we think to be saved either by, or without Obedience. The two Rocks whereon the world is Shipwrackt, while the God-instructed Christian keeps the narrow Channel. Thou that makest more conscience of, art more watchful, more careful of the least ill word, ill thought, than the Christian at large, of all the ill deeds of his whole life. As far more willingly choosing the bitterest death, than the sweetest sin, as knowing thou shalt find it the end of sin, that was the beginning of death. Thou that hast an abundant entrance administered to thee, in that strait and narrow way to the Kingdom of Heaven. That hast all the Commandments of God, That keepest all his ways (in a Gospel's acceptation) in the uttermost latitude, extent and spirituality of them, to the very first rising of concupiscence, and yet hast an easy yoke, a pleasant burden: While thou art endeavouring all to the uttermost, and utterly denying all thy endeavours. Thou that art a wonder to thyself, the gazing stock of men and Angels: of the congratulating joys of some of the calumniating envies of other; while thou art so wonderfully and fearfully made! A man of such blessed wonders! being a part of that unparalelled Masterpiece of the Eternal Wisdom, the Lord Christ. Thou that knowest what it is to lie under those pressing, weighty, and over-bearing apprehensions, of an infinite Majesty resident in the soul, crushing as it were, and contriting it to the most disshivered minutest pieces, while it is still firmly and entirely fixed on Him, and with full purpose of heart cleaving to Him, in such a sweet and blessed repose, such a perfect peace, that Millions of Millions of Worlds can neither give thee nor take from thee. Who at thy worst (to speak after the manner of men since all is good) thy distractedst condition, as the World calls it, findest that real, substantial, that pure, and as I may say, infinite comfort in the most clouded dark, dejected, disconsolate hope, that is objected on a simple and infinite God, that all the unclean, scanty-spirited, self-imprisoned World cannot once conceive at the highest of their mad merriments, and madding jollities. That findest inexpressibly more content in the very longest waitings for any the least beam of grace, to be glanced on thee through the face of thy Christ, than thou canst, nay then the joviallest themselves can (while they go laughing along with the fool to the stocks) in the loudest blaze of their crackling, their dying Thorns, that end in a bed of ashes. When thy soul shall be reposed in a bed of ever-flourishing, soft, and fragrant Roses. The savour whereof, as by a gentle wind from a garden of Spices is conveyed to thy Heaven-travelling soul. And hence is it that all the world to thee that livest in so sweet and fresh a Country, is but a miry and stinking City, thou canst no way endure, longer than thou hast a Pomander of this in thy nostrils. Thou sincere single-eyed-single-hearted loyal soul, whom nothing can please, and who wilt please nothing, but thy God. That hast no affection for thyself, for any, but what are subordinate to Him, his sweet and holy command. As having learned the truth, in the power, the love, the life thereof, dost truth, and therefore comest to it, in its searchingst discoveries, walks in it, rejoices in it, since thou hast known it as it is in Him, who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, the true and living way. In which never seducing path go all thy affections, actions, motions. As holding fast the faith and love which are in Him, living godly in Him. In Him doing, being all that thou art. Thou that art of all men most like an Hypocrite, while of all thou dost most differ from him. That art as like him to the eye of the world, as a Diamond to a Bristol Stone, while thou differest from him toto coelo, as much as truth from falsehood, good from bad, heaven from hell. Thou that art encouraged by thy discouragements, and furthered by thy scandals, and hindrances of Christianity. As knowing that Difficilia quae pulchra, Excellent things are hard, but when they meet with a man of an excellent spirit. And then their very difficulties, and excellencies make them easy; because more animate, and intent his spirit to their prosecution. As knowing the truth sincerely, the heart and reality of Religion, to be so much the more amiable, lovely and choice-worthy, by how much the more fair Commendable and admirable is its counterfeit. As arguing that if Hypocrisy can make so goodly and delectable a show, and yet be but a show, what then is that sincerity that is the substance? if that can attain to such an emminencie, such a glory, and yet be as black as Hell to the eyes of the all-discerning Sun, and inherit the place of the utmost and remotest darkness, what then is this that differs as much from it as God from the devil? Thou who knowest no readier and safer way to humility, then that which the world makes to their pride: the consideration of their own parts, gifts, endowments, abilities, eminencies whatsoever. As than most truly and throughly humbled, when thou risest to thy highest station and takest the fullest view of all thy excellencies. As seeing nothing but what thou hast of him, in him, and for him the only ground of humility because of glory. To see thyself thus and thus richly qualified, and yet to see thyself to be miserable, poor, blind, and naked, to have so much and yet to have nothing, argueth that the Candle of God hath shined over thy head in its brighter beams, and his secrets have dwelled more intimately more abidingly in thy Tabernacle. While seeing thyself of the noblest stock, of the choicest of nations, as touching learning with the learned'st, concerning zeal with the most active, touching the righteousness in the Law, blameless, etc. and yet to tread and trample all these things under thy feet, with the utmost indignation and detestation, as the most despicable dross and dung in comparison of one thought of revealed Christ, that hast known, or rather art known of Him that is the only excellency. I, such a light shining in upon the soul and outshining the most glorious Sun even at mid day, is that which will cast the greatest Apostle upon his face, and make him cry out that he is less than the least of Saints. And certainly there may be a due and selfe-denying acknowledgement of parts, endowments, performances, etc. while there may be an impudently modest and self-seeking self-denial; of all the most desperate, the most detestable hypocrisy. Besides, for a man to carry himself lowly, dejectedly, discontentedly, upon the mere convincements of his defects, and faults, may be mere baseness and pusilanimity, that will soon upon the least conceit of its own worth, turn into, and indeed (narrowly look into) proceeds from, and carries along with it, pride and self-love. Neither is that to be thought true humility that is not a furtherance to thankfulness. And the only course to keep from boasting being to learn how to know all of grace, how to glory, boast, in the Lord. We being only so fare humbled as outed of ourselves, so far outed of ourselves as filled with God; so far as he is pleased gloriously to condescend, to humble himself unto us, and graciously to take us up, to advance us into himself. There being nothing that lays the soul lower in its own eyes, than its highest exaltation in Gods. Nothing that makes it better know, better keep, its distance, in an humble, lovefull, trembling, joyful, every-way-duly-affectionate, active, obedient, walking before him, than the knowledge, than the assurance of its communion of its union with him. (I know the wisdom of God is foolishness to the world, it is ignorant, it is wulfully ignorant of it. But I speak to them whose hearts have the mind of Christ, and can sensibly interpret the meaning of his spirit. And certainly he that speaks not nonsense to nature, speaks but little supernatural sense.) Besides nature may have a kind of Ahab-like Judas-like humility on the apprehensions of evils moral or natural. But to be humbled at the thoughts of our self-sufficiency, in him who is our only sufficiency, our new self, this of grace. While our hearts understand that sweet harmony of that seeming contradiction, I, and yet not I; but the Spirit of Christ that dwelleth in me: that humble, meek, gentle spirit. Thou, whose main, whose principal study is to know all the excellencies of the World in the face of Christ; to know it by them, and them by it, that through it thou mayst know him who hath ordained it as the conveying Medium of the light, of the knowledge of his Glory. Thou whose world-and selfe-contemning behaviour, speaks thee one of those finding seekers, and seeking finders, that with asweet sharpness, and unsatisfied satisfaction, followest on to the knowledge of him, in whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. Thou sweetly passionated heart, that knowest what are those flutterings of the soul to fly; those holy efforts, those lanching forth into the great depths: what it is to be given up to, to lie under the power of the Divine Spirit, while on thy water-like diffused soul, it hatcheth new forms of the Divine nature. Thou tender, humbled, shivered, and shivering spirits, that work out thy salvation with fear and trembling; while thou biddest defiance to the gates of Hell, and laughest death and destruction in the face. Thou, who though often assaulted with Thorns in the flesh, with buffet in thy spirit, art kept in such a complete peace in the sense of the all-sufficient Grace, and canst glory, canst pleasure in, count gains of thy infirmities, thy distresses, necessities, persecutions, etc. as the advancers of the overcoming strength of thy Christ, thy only joy, glory, gain. Thou poor, weak, feeble wretch, that canst do nothing, and yet canst do all things, through him that strengthens thee. Thou whose inward and heart-disolving sighs are the daily harbingers for thy speedy admission to that great and eternal Supper of thy solemnised espousals. Thou whose lovesick, Christ-inamoured soul, bursts for the long that it hath, that it always hath, after the full and never-interrupted embraces of thy dear, thy only dear beloved. Thou that countest every minute an age till thou art with Him; and yet countest seven and seven years, ages and ages, spent in the greatest hardship he shall appoint thee, but as a minute in thy sweet waitings on him. Thou whose Heaven-visited soul cannot but break forth in exalting exclamations! O the beauties! the harmonies! the sweetnesses! the riches! the glories! the Crowns! the inexpressiblenesses! the inconceivablenesses! of the knowledge, of the love of God, in Christ Jesus, by his holy Spirit! Thou who art Heaven, inside and outside. Who art clothed with the Sun, and treadest the Moon under thy feet; while thou hast that within thee, that could it be seen, would dazzle the eyes of the world into an envious astonishment. In whom is the Kingdom of Heaven, the righteousness, the peace, the joy, in the Holyghost, unspeakable & glorious. Thou that countest the doing of his Will on Earth, as it is done in Heaven, the turning of Heaven into Earth, and men into Angels. And therefore seest infinite more beauty in the poorest, Priest-deridest Mecanicke, conscionably and sincerely busied in his calling, though but in the shoveling up of dirt, and sweeping of Chimneys, than thou dost in all the guildings and paintings, the Copes and Surplusses, etc. all the sumptuous gallant trickings of the Beast, in the wilful, sensual, hypocritical worship of God. Yea then in the hearing the reading of Sermons, meditating, praying, conferring, etc. or whatever more immediate services, more world-withdrawing exercises, so as excluding the seasonable discharge of thy several relations, the performance of thy duty to God, in and through that to men. As knowing the worth of every thing to be as it is to the will of God; who hath made these latter ordinances in their time, as well as those former. And that the God of nature who made nothing in vain, hath given forth such a diversity of commands not with most wise ends. To show what concord he can make in such a seeming discrepancy between work and work, men and men, between heaven and earth, in such a multiplicity of employments in due time and place; while they are all According to his will: And make an inconceiveable melody in the answering of a good conscience to him. To show through what a variety of occurrents he can carry the faithful soul while he still keeps it with Him. And that he might keep them in an humble dependency on him to learn how to bring forth their fruits in due season. To set forth the glory of Christianity in the suitable composure of such a change of Ornaments. The excellency of it in overcoming so many difficulties, in passing so many turn and wind, conducted by the thus-more-commended manifold wisdom, power, goodness of God. That takest it for so much superstition, so much idolising of the best duties, (and therefore for so much no duties) while they are set up against the will of God. Thou whom prosperity keeps praying, adversity praising. That art exalted by thy humiliation, encouraged by thy fear, rejoiced by thy sorrow, that gettest thy life by throwing it away, that findest thyself by losing it, that art watchful in every thing, careful in nothing. That art encountered with often doubts, scruples, irresolutions, self-disputes, and yet livest at the highest rate of assurance of the divine favour. That, yea by, feeding thyself with fear, thy watch, prayings, fastings art carried forth in the liveliest vigorousness and luxuriancy of spirits. (〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Mic. 4.) Thou that art now at the top of the third Heavens, in the highest exaltations of thy spirit, and now again at the bottom of the lowest Hell, while thou still liest as fast in the hugging embraces of the omnipresent as ever. Thou whose modest, sober, pure, peaceable, guilelesse, discreet, unblamable, zealous, lively, active deportment of thyself, speaks the one that hath been brought up at thee feet of Jesus. Thou whose generous, magnanimous, God-resembling Spirit stoops to humilty, and overtops Pride. That while thou liest below the lowest dejection of the meanest Sainted Peasant, bearest thee above the most disastrous, dismallest aspects of the arrogantest, Prelatickst, highest-aspiring, Kingdome-dooming Comet, as far as the third Heaven is above the Meteory Region. Thou that canst gladly stoop with that meek Lamb to wash the feet of the meanest Minister of the Gospel, Lay down thy life for the God-loved and therefore world hated brethren, while Lion-like thy righteous soul rouseth up itself against the Hypocritical Pharisee, with the most contemptuous and undervaluing disdain. Thou that with a hearty willingness canst gladly abase thyself to unloose the latchet of the meanest Saint, while thou knowest not how to give a Pontifical Peacock the dissembling Compliment of thy haste: though he swell, though he burnish, though he bustle, though he crow it never so domineeringly; till he be furtivis nudatus coloribus. Thou that like thy Heavenly Father, knowest how to be afflicted in all the afflictions of his holy ones, his humble ones, while wherein soever the Presumptuous deal proudly, Thou wilt in Him be above them, and make their proudest wrath to praise Him. Thou that seest far more beauty on the very feet of the poorest Ambassador of the Gospel, then on the honour-pleasure-profit-Triple-crowned head of those enemies to the Crown, because to the (virtue because friends to the sign of the) Cross of Christ, In making the earth their study, their belly their God, their glorious Titles their shame, themselves destruction, and their Country distraction. Thou that knowest how to turn the other cheek to him that smites thee, and to let go thy cloak too to him that would take away thy coat; and yet knowest thy time too when to sell it for a sword, and thy life by it as dear as thou canst. While yet thou seekest not so much the destruction of the enemy, no nor the preservation of thyself, as the obedience too, as the glory of God by it. Thou that hast learned, how to render blessing for cursing, and pray for them that despitefully use thee, while still thou remember'st that the same Michael that brought no railing accusation against the devil, called the Pharisees a generation of Vipers, the evill-working Jews, the children of the devil. Thou whose well tempered soul knowest the meaning of a zealous meekness, a mild indignation, a faceat gravity, a solid pleasantness, etc. Thou who while thy cautelous heart is still agitated with the most quick resentments, & readiest apprehensions of dangers, art most firmly settled in a most unshaken peace of a providential security. Thou whose giving heart is streaming itself forth in the most enlarged and selfe-loosing compassions, the most liberal supplies and contributions to the suffering Saints, and hast thy awakened fear continually exercised with the alarms of war and death, while thou standest with an undaunted magnanimity, in a close, fast, fixed, Communion with thy God, like Mount Zion that cannot be shaken; triumphing over Hell and Death. That while thou bleedest in their wounds, art bound in their bonds, diest in their death, blessest for thy wounds, art freed with thy bonds, livest in thy death. That walking in the shadow of death, in the presence of thine enemies, hast a set banquet of heavenly delicacies, thy head anointed with the oil of joy and gladness, by the over-shadowing hand of the Almighty Redeemer, while thy soul is like a brimful Cup, overrunning with joy and praises, with joy and praises. Thou that amandest the wicked from thee, that thou mayst keep the Commandments of thy God, whom thou findest so, so inapprehensibly good. Thou that abhorrest none more than pragmatical, busybody, censorious men, as the most slight-spirited, idle self-ignorant, worthless men that are, and yet seekest not thine own things, but the things of others, and canst not so hate thy brother in thy heart, as not to rebuke him; and therefore as not to rebuke him in love. Thou in whose eyes a vile person is contemned: whose God-acquainted spirit, can not sit with vain, empty, triviall-spirited persons, Sons of Belial, whose foolish hearts are not lift up in-to the ways of God, that are above to the wise; Triflers away of precious hours in frothy, frivolous, fruitless communications, that have no, and therefore can administer no grace to the hearer: Men not of Heaven-ascending discourse, spirit, life. Thou that hast found the two edged sword of the word, dividing between the soul and the spirit, and raising this as far above that, as that is above the body, That thou mayest serve him, in the spirit of thy mind, in the more extracted, as it were, and more sublimed quintessence, the morefree & noble 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of life, love, zeal. Thou that like that Purites strikest fire; and throwest sparks about thee, to quick the dead and scindry souls, and countest it far more honour to be denominated a zealot with thy Saviour, from that which fed on his marrow, that pure and undefiled zeal of his Father's house that consumed him, then to be counted a dead carcase, of Him who bid the dead bury the dead. Thou Precisian that walkest as accurately, curiously as upon the ridge of an house, and therefore as wisely, if the Spirit of Wisdom be a competent Judge. Thou that art one of the holy brethren, that labourest to be holy as he that called thee is holy; to be holy as (though thou canst not be as holy as) thy heavenly Father; and therefore hast that title linked to it, as a concomitant of the partaking of the heavenly calling. Thou that art counted as so much off scouring and dung, while thou art one of whom the world is not worthy; a seditious, factious turbulent fellow that turnest the world topsie turvey, while thou art among the props and pillars without which it would instantly and irrecoverably sink. Thou that hast God for thy Father, Christ for thy Brother, the holy Spirit for thy companion, the Angels for thy attendance, Heaven-the-full enjoyment of God for thy perpetual home. Thou that art his undefiled one, his jewel his glory, the Apple of his eye, his pleasant portion, the dear beloved of his soul, the darling of the Deity Himself. Thou that art the subject of so rare a piece of the divine wisdom in bringing him that stood at the vastest distance, the deadliest defiance to the nearest the closest the most endeared intimacy. In making a lump of rude and unformed darkness, a lamp of pure and undefiled splendour in that inapproachable light. A wisp of straw the fuel of everlasting burning, a mingling flame in everloving embraces. But whither will this sweet-sounding name transport me? Thou man, that art worthy of the name, as fearing God and keeping his commandments, which is the whole, the completeness of a man, in him, in whom we are complete, partaking of an higher nature, being not carnal, & walking like a man, but spiritual and walking (as thou mayst say it In, as the knowledge of it will sweetly enforce thee to say it in the deepest, the feelingst humility) as a dimunitive, as an opitome, of Christ, of God. While all murmur, envying, strifes, evil surmises, backbitings, etc. purged out, thou possessest thy meek patiented soul, like a pure and untroubled Rivulet, over flowing in superabundancy of loves and sweetnesses. But what shall I say of thee? thou Uniform Multiformitie, beautiful black, crosse-divided ground, concording discord! Thou that hast eternity assigned thee to contemplate thy own worth; in thy only worth the Lord Christ. To thee candid Christian as having known the wisdom that is from above, that is first pure and therefore gentle, easy to be entreated without partiality, prejudicatenesse, sensoriousnesse, Hypocrisy to thee do I present hoc qualecunque meum; this tenue munusculum, these broken and rudely ordered meditations, (the offsprings of those more serene, lucid, benign hours, those horae blandiores) breathing themselves forth in these Canzonets of their serious pleasure, which have long lain by me in lose and scribbled Adversaria, and now after many and oft selfe-disputes, suddenly and confusedly according to the condition of the time scrabled up together into this miscellany; as willing rather than the growing mischiefs of hardened hearts, hearts lifted up to their ruin, should prevent thee of all, thou shouldst have some, though too those but preposterously and promiscuously huddled together. In which ruder rhapsody, if thou shalt espy any brillantes estincellettes, any little sparklings forth, any glimpses and glances, shalt hear any hints and relishes, that may be suitable to thy word-conformed spirit; and like the concurrent rays of two apposite jewels, the concording tones of two Co-tuned instruments, might more take thee with thy own graces, more sweeten thy soul in the sense of the divine goodness, and animate thee on to a more full obedience, to a further activity in the ways of holiness; I have my desire, and thou shalt not miss of thine.   

Errata.  
PAge 2. Line. 5. for turns to read turn to, p. 26. l. 3. r. sprawl, p. 28. l. 12. r. through them converse, p. 29. l. 2. r. cheer them to, p. 33. l. 17. r. thorough, p. 48. l 12. for pleasure r. heaven, p. 58. l. 6. Psal. 8.9.10. p. 65. l. 22. r. unshod wi'th ', p. 66. l. 10. r. promise, p 67. l. 10. for were r. will, p. 70. l. 17. r. altared, p. 71. l. 18. r. for; though r. then. l. 27. r. still, p. 73. l. 16. r. glympses, p. 74. l. 5. r. hand, l. 32. r. my r'bellious flesh p. 75. l. 7. r. what's, l 10. r. follows, Creator, p. 80. l. 4. for. truth r. forth, l 31. r. hairs, p. 83. l. 29. deal thou, page 91. read line 31. and 32. after p. 92. l. 2. p. 107. l. 5. r. that, p. 108. l. 4 r. him, p. 121. before vers. 21. r. 2 Chron. 20.21.22. etc. p. 128. l. 4 r. heels, p. 131. l. 5. r. leaven, p. 145. l. 27. r. I th', p. 148. l. 14. r. Is it, p. 152. l. 24. r. father's, p. 153. l. 9 r. as, p. 157. l. 18. r. Angelicque, l. 32. r. worlds, p. 170. l. 14. r. live, p. 175. l. 7. for false r. self-, p. 195. l. 1. r. Vacation.   

I Call to mind my song in the night.  Psal. 77. 
Admonishing one another in Psalms and Hymns, and spiritual Songs, singing to the Lord with grace in your hearts.  Ephes. 5. 

Heaven's Harmony; the Heaven-speaking strain,  
That meets in Meeter is the meeter strain.   

Heaven's Harmony, and the Harmonious man  
Whose Hearts right set to God, 's the Heavenly man.    


ne'er drank'st thou drop of Helicon;  
Nor knowst thou where Parnassus lies;  
What is it then thus bears thee on  
Into this vein to Poetize?   

ne'er readest thou Play; nor working Poet,  
That in the weightier measures sings.  
But all thy vacant hours bestowedst  
In haunting of the spring of springs.   

Nor usest artificial cheer:  
No fumes of Wine, brain-hopping Beer,  
No swelling Ale; yet still I hear  
My simple Musa round mine ear.   

But whither Nympha? Warbling lie  
Still in my nursing breast. Stay; where  
Wilt find wi'th ' narrowest scrutiny,  
A serious, sober, candid ear?   

Hast found 'em? Go; long-versed in  
An Element of Purity,  
thou'rt well content, thou heard and seen  
O'th' purest Puritans may be.   

You'll find her like a Traveller,  
I'th' Valley now, drink of the Brook  
That runs by th'way; and thence transfer  
Her rising feet and mounting look.   

Then down again, deject, below;  
Yet still doth sing, 'cause still doth go;  
Where never more shall be below:  
Yet still doth sigh, 'cause doth but go.   

Still sigh and sing, and sing and sigh,  
Still sweetly steal the love-drawne heart,  
Insensibly carried to those highths  
Whence it shall never more departed.   

〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉:  Epict. 
Every thing hath two handles; and a fool always takes it by the left.  Quicquid recipitur, recipitur in modum recipientis. 

bite Cynic if thou wilt,  
And fill thy envenomed gut  
with poison.   

Burst Spider, if one Be  
Get one sweet smatch, it shall be  
M'rich foison.   

Hence Momus, be ned so rude,  
S'unmannerly to intrude.  
Darest venture;   

The House is mine, and thou  
'Rt a Thief, I'll not allow  
Thee enter.   

But wilt thou break the door?  
Turn not a Paper more,  
'Tis Burglary.   

Steal not a glance upon  
A syllable; be gone  
Thou Plagiary.    

Chantez a l'asne il vous fera des coups.  

BRing ye an Ass unto the Harp,  
And he will at the Music carp.  
Skill hath no enemies but those  
Whose pride their ignorance doth pose.  
But th'man that learns humility  
Knows Music, for with God dwells he.  
And he-and-he full sweetly agree,  
Whose very tunings Music be.    


MAy never eye (great God) behold this book,  
Whose eye-affected heart with 's not took.  
O thou that mad'st the dead alive,  
Speak but the word, these words revive.   

Thou free, and freeing spirit, that blowest where,  
When, as, thou list'st, O that thou wouldst blow here!  
Let him that life to all things gives,  
Read to the Reader, and he lives.    

Carmina secessum scribentis & otia quaerunt.  Ovid. 

— At Anglica nostra Carina  
Pontificûm insanis exagitatur aquis.  
Ac agitetur aquis, etiam cantabimus illis:  
Viribus ipsa suis Roma superba ruit.  
Roma superba ruit, resonantque Superna canorà  
Voce, ruat summo pondere strata suo.    


What matters that from whom these Poems came?  
he's but the silent pen that owns the blame.  
God's be the praise, the pleasant profit thine;  
Bate thy mistakes, be the misprisions mine.  
For whatso'ver amiss thou'lt see,  
There wants discretion in thee or me.  
There wants discretion in thee and me;  
Bear Thou with me, as I with thee.  
Think th' faults are thine, I'll think they're mine.  
And so they'll be nor mine nor thine.  
While each to lay'm on th'other's loath,  
They'll fall to th'ground between us both.  
A politic piece of charity,  
To sweeten all in amity.     

SOLILOQVIES THEOLOGICALL.  

A Psalm, a Hymn, a spiritual Song,  
A Ballad, and Masse-chanting tongue;  
A David's Harp, an airy vein,  
A vagrant Fiddle, vapouring strain;  
Fond, wilful, blind, ind'stinct Devotions,  
Th'inutterable sighs of faithful Notions;  
A Heaven diffused Supplicancie,  
A torpid, Rome-bred Lethargy;  
A pompous, gaudy Ceremony,  
A Gospell-Simple decency;  
Selfe-prating Priests, Christ-preaching Paul's,  
Gods, and the world's Episcopals;  
These, and a thousand more resemble  
Each other, each other most disresemble.  
Discretion is discerning, He  
That sees but white from black can't see.  
But he 'tis sees, that seethe well,  
That white fro'th ' brightest grey can tell.  
To see sins of the foulest dye  
What is't? But th' fairest, 't's a spiritual eye.  

* Heb. 4.2. with 1 Cor. 2.14.15. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and jude 19 Soulie. Betwixt the most clearly sensual, the most penctratingly rational Soul and the Spirit.  T'divide betwixt the Soul and Spirit,  
That; that the name o' discretion merits.  
Disguised Virtue, Painted Vice,  
The Proverb turned, More wise more nice;  
But he who turns this turns to vice,  
Is nice for want of being nice:  
Her's two men, both highminded be;  
'Tis pride that, this humility;  
And her's two more, in fear each is,  
'Tis courage that, 'tis cowardice this.  
And so along of all the rest,  
SH' alike is good and evil dressed.  
Things most alike oft most unlike  
Do prove, and most unlike alike.  
The wiser He that can descry  
Th'great Distance when so close they lie.  
Lay right i'th'East, and wrong i'th'West  
Every fooled be wise-and know what's Best.  
Could they be cleared by general Rules,  
Whereed be the Academicque Schools?  
But Limitings, Sublimiting,  
With often Subsublimitings.  
And every Action's of a Rate  
As duly Circumstantiate.  
Who is't that naturally would not good?  
Yet all all ill by nature would.  
And how haps this, but good and bad  
Are in the same apparel clad.  
Or rather 'cause our sight's so dull,  
We can't the fruit fro'th ' refuse cull.  
'Tis hence I fear my mirth is sad,  
'Tis hence I find my grief is glad.  
'Tis hence I feel my Melancholy  
Divine Delights, my Laughter Folly.  
'Tis hence I all things so suspect,  
And what's most pleasing most reject  
Till by the touchstone I shall try  
Whether it be'nt th'delusion of the eye.  
And what need Senses spiritualised  
And those so often exercised,  
Were't easy to be wise, to know  
The discrepance from Concord's flow.  
Were't easy to be wise, to know  
The Concord's from Discordings flow  
Sages held Sots, Sots Sages be  
Not viewed with perspicacity.  
The 
* Esa● 3. with 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 To 〈◊〉 reason, ● gue, red ● gue, wi● joh. 7. ●. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  sights an unjust Judge, if judge  
Aright he do who all must judge.  
'Tis not so subtle edged to decide  
An hair's breadth, and besides 'tis bribed  
To often blindness by the affections;  
Thus humane light takes false inspections.  
I'll ne'er believe the man that will  
Believe's own eyes, but count him will  
Among the Fools, that's not acquaint 
2 Thes. 3.2. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.   
With Faith the Topics of a Saint.  
Unskilied and feigned Sounds may cheat  
The Ear, Scents the Smell, the Palate meat,  
Th'Touch Tangibles. There's Sophistry  
Plenty in Hell for Fallacies.  
Th'world, Flesh, Divle's so Legier de main  
Th'acut'st, nimbl'st Look may be mista'ne.  
And when we think a Blow's put by  
Wee're over-reach't by'a Falsisie.  
Sense, Reason's grossly cozened, but Faith  
Can never, for'ts information hath  
From Truth itself; it may be mista'ne,  
But can't mistake. There is a vain,  
A fancied Faith. So still here's work  
For D'scretion. Snakes i'th' Verdure lurk.  
' i'th' Snakes rich Cordials. Who wise would prove  
‛ Mselfe, 's rarest wisdomeed doth behoove  
T' have rarified by that great Light  
That showst the brightest day but night.  
To see men both of the same Clay  
And mould, and both of the same way,  
Substance, and faculties of Soul,  
Yet the one as fair as Heaven, as foul  
As Hell the other, and if there seem  
To thee a difference, thou'dst esteem  
The Heaven were Hell, the Hell were Heaven;  
So soon so much mayst be deceiven;  
For what's the best morality,  
But finer spun hypocrisy?  
While he'd be thought be godly too,  
That with our God hath nought to do.  
So Heaven and Hell may wear th' same clothes,  
The Troubles that, and this th' Repose.  
Th'World's God inrob'd'n Angelicque Light,  
The God of gods in sable Night.  
'Tis this that hurls the world to Hell,  
Because they can't the difference tell  
'Twixt good and bad, 'twixt God and them.  
'Tis only those that he condemns  
That know him not, but so mistake,  
As that themselves their gods they make.  
And so do all that will not learn  
'Twixt things that differ to discern.  
'Tis this that makes the soul as God,  
T' know good and evil. I'll then plod  
Upon this narrow Scrutiny  
With all submissive industry.  
I'll then resign mine eyes to thee  
Thou Only Wise to see for me.  
I'll be a fool, the only way  
To pass for Wise another Day.   


CHristian! O how I tremble at the Name  
That holds the God that holds the world in frame!  
O what an Earthquake-Palsey shakes my limbs!  
What Spirit-intercluding fear bedims  
Mine eye! What quivering Agues hurry through  
My panting veins, surprised with chilling dews!  
I tremble, how I tremble at the Name  
Christian! Shall I say so? I must, my Joy constrains,  
My Joy that serves itself by lighter pains  
With weightier comforts. I profess; Ah Lord  
Make thou my Life unto my Tongue accord.  
Christian! A piece of undivided Christ:  
Watch soul, for if thyself, thou God beliest.  
Off Sacrilegious hands; th'ungodlike man  
Ungodly is, is not a Christian;  
For God is Christ, and Christ is Man.    


CReep sneaking Earthworm to thy bags of Gold,  
And glut thy greedy Panch with hungry Clay.  
Climb lofty Spider to thy Heights, take hold  
Of Prince's Palaces, toil night and day,  
Spin out thy brains into a curious plot,  
Kings, Kingdoms are but silly flies, soon caught.   

And thou whose Life says Time was made for leisure,  
Thou for an Ocean-sporting Behemoth,  
To toss, to roll thyself in Seas of pleasure:  
Yet know the Foot, the Broom, the Sluice, whose  
Breaks through th' condensed'st Earth, the Air most wrath high  
Reaches, and draws the abounding'st Waters dry.   

Poor! Base! Wretcht man! Are these things to compare  
(That are so short, that Are not while they are)  
With Him that is our Substance? With the Rare  
Th'only Honour t'be his Son, his Wisdom? Th'fair  
Sole-pleasing Love, whose pure Essential Light  
Breathes flames in all with mutual Delight.   

God Christ! Blessed Spirit! Yee-Thou-Are-art mine  
For ever art One With thy Self-and-Thine.    

MAT. 12. 43, 44.  

Go sweep thy House, and wear out all the brooms  
Of Ethics to the stumps, collect the sweets  
Of Scripture flowers; garnish, perfume thy rooms.  
thou'rt yet the Rendezvous where Legion meets  
And revel rout's more safe, till Christ ha'indwelt  
Thee'nd kept Possession. Which had he then th'hadst felt   

Thy sin-purg'd-thirsty soul draw wholly up  
Thy daily draughts of his reviving Cup.  
This sin-drean'd-Christ-replenisht soul's not rest  
For th'unclean Spirit but the self-ful breast.    


OH where's a quiet Lamb, a gaulelesse Dove,  
An humble soul, an all-enduring Love,  
A Glorious-and-offence-by-passing man  
That sweetly smiles at All the creature can?  
A 
a Psa. 131. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  smoothly plained, silenced soul abides  
No 
b Isa. 40.4. cum Psal. 31.20.  rugged, rough excrescencies of Pride;  
A fitted soul to fall in close conjunction  
With God, t'apply itself to every function;  
A patiented Job, meek Moses, gentle Paul,  
Upright, God's Friend, Heaven's Seer, well may y'him call;  
The lively Image of his Christ  
Who was the lowliest-and-the Highest.  
Blessed man! Hath found the Philosophique Stone  
That with a touch turns Dunghills into Thrones,  
And of a Thorny makes a Golden Crown.  
Admired Believer! While he'humbly lays him down  
Below th'least mercy, i'the nethmost Pit  
(Walks as a man not worthy o'the Name  
He forfeited unto Eternal shame,  
Not worthy t'look to th'God he sold for nought,  
On any creature who all in bondage brought,  
Below the lash o'th' Diabolicqu'st tongue,  
Satanicqu'st hand in doing, doth not, wrong)  
Sits still in Heaven with Him in Heaven did sit  
While in the Grave, far, far above the reach  
O'th' highest reaching sins can make no breach  
Upon his praising Obncords', far above  
The barking or the fawning World but prove  
Th'increasers of his mirth by what he felt  
From their attempts while here below he dwelled.    


DEny myself! Take! Up! My! Cross! Each! Day!  
And follow Thee! Self? Friends, gain, ease, name, may  
Not one of these parts of myself, not all  
Serve? But myself and all myself must call  
Thee Lord? What, no propriety at home?  
An Inmate to myself? And yet must come  
And bear? Must bring my shoulders to this Cross?  
Nay stoop for't too, and that for My, My Cross?  
How lights another's, though heavier far? And say  
'Twere once ones Life? a Year? a Month? but every day!  
And that including subdivided times,  
As oft as he shall please recall our crimes  
Unto our memory! And yet, thus loaden travel!  
Nay! after perfectness! her's that would ravel  
The finest spun with into a sad confusion,  
To draw these premises into a glad conclusion.  
But wisdom's from above, and 'tis not nature  
That sees the height, breadth, length, depth o' th' Creator,  
H's incomprehensible love in Christ; How light's  
The burden? How unconceived th'delights!  
Thus made more capable of vaster Bliss  
By these imposed impossibilities  
To flesh and blood, how much th' more room for grace,  
For God, to make our souls the happier Place  
Of his such wonderworking residence  
That makes our Faith so far exceed our Sense,  
His Spirit, his power our own, that we might be  
Th'more glorious Proof of his Omnip'tencie.    

Omnia mea mecum porto.  

TIll thou canst make the Cross of Christ uncrowned,  
And snatch the Sceptre from his hand confounds  
Kingdoms like Potsherds, till thou canst control  
Him that shall roll the Heavens like a scroll  
And make them melt with fervent heat to give  
Me passage to my high prerogative  
It's full enjoyment, till thou canst untie  
Or cut in two the Gordian knot where I  
THEM inseparably interwoaven with himself;  
Till thou canst rob the everlasting wealth  
And dry the inexhausted Spring; Or stop  
The invisible Influxes, that do drop?  
That pour out 
* Cant. 5.16. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉   
Sweetnesses come streaming through  
Their pure and undiscovered Channel to  
M'inlivened soul; th'ebbing world shall still redound  
With floods of overflowing comforts, ground  
My soul above the reach of worldly cares,  
To feast upon the sweets of heavenly fare.    


LUKE 1.53.  
O May I daily empty me of me.  
Couldst thou but fill me daily more with Thee?  
Canst thou deny thyself? Or can there be  
Aught good but Thee? Or be Vacuity  
In Grace more than in Nature? O'make, make me  
More humble, so I rise more filled with Thee.  
Ah Lord! Now where am I! sure this is right;  
I, here is that is worth the name Delight.  
Here, her's a Joy that swallows all my joys  
In'ts shorelesse bliss, and over all m'annoyes  
Triumphs in glorious peace, the whileed employs  
It's provident security, and swerves  
On neither hand, but to an hair observes  
Its narrow ways until it come t'innest  
I'th' omnipresent Centre of his breast.  
O may I daily fill with more of Thee  
't's this filling only humbles-raises me.    

Humility and grace are commensurable, take the depth of the one and you have the height, have all the dimensions of the other. Ex pede Herculem; So much Humilitie-so much Grace-so much God; or rather so much God-so much Grace-so much Humility (All our disposings of ourselves to him being post-not predisposing; so fare as I spread downward in the root of my humble faith, so much the more nourishment I draw; and consequently thrive in bulk and stature towards the full measure of perfection in Christ Jesus.  
We have according as we receive, but we receive according to our humility-the hollow of the Palm, the capacity the capability of the hand of faith, therefore we have according to it.  
Again, Grace is the Indwelling of God in us and Humility the emptying and the unselfing us of ourselves, to live in him; look then as he comes in, (the very first forming of grace,) so we go out; and as we go out so he comes in with a daily and further transforming us into himself. Or thus, Christ is the pattern of Humility, but in him dwelleth the fullness of the Godhead, therefore 
Thc humblest man is the most gracious man,  
Nay who 'twixt th'one and th'other difference can.  For indeed Grace is Humility-and Humility is Graceis godliness; they having divers names in a divers respect, Humility as we are made unlike to, are outed of, ourselves; Grace-and Godliness as made like to, as Inned in our God. The unselfdenying man therefore is the prond man-is the ungracious-the ungodly man.  
Or thus, God himself hath so humbled himself, take upon him the form of a servant, to be God-with (Phil. 2. ver. 6, 7.) The Lord of Life hath shed blood, hath been slain, and that on the Cross for 〈◊〉 (Acts 3.15. 1 Cor. 11.27.) In whom it is humility look on the Earth, to look on the Heavens (Psal. 11) Grace then being but what a man hath of God, it m● be but what he hath of humility.  
The more truly then, the more kindly the Sold humbled, the more raised, the more sublimed it is, 〈◊〉 cause more filled with him who is Above all; But of t● otherwhere God willing, the Kingdom standing, 〈◊〉 not overturned by these studie-disturbing, Statestroying, overlooking Prides.   


QVia des noixil en casse  
Et qui n'en a il s'en pass.   

He that hath Nuts, to h's teeth them puts,  
He that hath none, lets 'em alone,  
'S ne'er troubled about 'em.   

Just such toys are all the joys  
This world can give, and I can live  
As well without 'em.   

It is not bread whereby I'm fed,  
I much may carve and yet may starve  
If Nature feed not.   

But on the air I can well far,  
If God shall make me all forsake  
So say they need not.   

God is my portion, all this spacious world  
●S a little-tinie Nut, that to me hurled  
●'ve more ado to get the Kernel forth  
Then all the world as but the shell is worth;  
God's in't I know, and God's without it too,  
And I get him without with less ado.   

My Nuts are left, I'm off my childish stage,  
Approach the Acme of m'eternall Age:  
scare f'r this rattling pleasure? Counter-wealth?  
These Hobby-horse Honours? For this trumpery pelte  
●arths puling sucklings stretch your throats, I draw  
My Life fro'th ' Wisdom o'the Gospel-Law.    


ARise my Harp, my Heart is risen, up,  
Praise him hath filled, hath overfilled thy cup.  
●rise my Heart, my Harp is risen, up,  
●raise him hath filled thy praise-o'rerunning cup.  
●eart, Harp arise, mix your melodious notes  
Whereon my soul my soul to him devotes.  
●ow praises, vow thyself in praiseful bliss,  
●y Heart the Spirit, my Harp the Organ is.  
●ay Harp, and Heart, and sweetly both agree  
〈◊〉 Him my Life, my life your Echo be.  
●esse Heart, Harp bless with blessed conspiracy;  
●y Life? Earth, Heaven your constant Echo be.    


SIng pretty Bird, and welcome in the Spring,  
And mock my silence, hark unthankful soul  
How sweetly doth she chant it, sing on, sing  
My daintiest Bird, how nimbly doth she roll  
And pour out Roundelays, as if she would  
Have all at once her concord's understood.   

Yet pretty wretch how well she keeps the time.  
How gracefully she rests; how entertain  
Her Flats with Sharps: how neatly doth she climb  
Up note by note, and run them down again,  
With gentle breast breathes many a melting strain  
Hark, hark unthankful soul, what still refrain?   

Rouse up, put in, thou lacking in thy part?  
Refuse so just a challenge? Thou hast two Springs,  
From Earth one, Heaven another, rise up my heart,  
The winter's past, rain gone, 'tis time to sing,  
The Flowers appear, heard is the Turtles voice,  
The voice of thy Beloved, Arise, Rejoice.   

Up, meditate his praises on thy Lute  
With a grave Higgaiion while like Seraphim  
Thou burst'st int' flams; fails th' tongue  speak depu●●  
Thine eyes. They? Let astonished silence him  
Proclaim, wondrous in doing, in Sanctity  
Glorious, in praises fearful, I praise Thee?   

Holy! Holy! Holy! Lord God of Rest,  
My rest! yet restless I, how feign would speak  
But so o'er powered with dazzling Light so pressed  
With Humbling weight of Massy Glory break  
M'imprisoning earth claim climb my high degree  
Glory in its El'ment can't too heavy be.   

O turn away thine eye! No, turn mine eye  
To a refulgent Sun, whose steady view  
May feast upon unmixed Entity  
'S uncircumscribed, and uncoulerd Hue,  
Till 
* Ps. 14.5. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 complectitur copiam & affluentiam Fluminis & Luminis cum celeritate, lubentia, ac pronitate. Fosterus.  whelmed in living floods of streaming beams  
I rise, far, far above these dunghill-steames.   

To sing Blessed God, who to thy Pure in heart,  
I'th' Sight of Thee all blessings dost impart.    


LOrd I believe, O help my unbelief:  
My sins are great, therefore my sins remit,  
Are thy thoughts, thy ways mine? To see the Chief  
Of sinners Chief of Saints, a work befit  
Such free! full grace! O how my soul admires!  
Rapt up in wonders, lost in large desires!   

How I expatiate in this Infinite.  
I stretch, I reach and yet still more's before  
Still I put out myself, so from Self quite  
Am drawn; most happy loss to find such store;  
I've lost my empty Bark 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  swift sailing come  
Enriched with Glory to my Glorious Home.   

Toss World thy waves, Heart harker for thy Earth,  
Blow Diule thy blasts. He, he is in my Bark  
Shall quit me of you all. Ravished with mirth  
While to my Husband-Pilots Loves I hark  
With full assarance fleetly glide along  
Long longing t'sing that overlasting long  
Hallelujah!  
Hallelujah!   

— But must I rest? I hear  
A harshned touch? what interchange here needs?  
Or have I so fastidious an ear?  
Or is't Variety my joy feeds  
But that, that's Grounded on Simplicity?  
In Jahs the confluence of all Harmony.    


't'S a Princely Fabric This. What curious rows  
Of glittering windows! stately Batiements!  
How well compact, proportioned, trim it shows  
A Masterpiece of Arts embellishments!  
And what a breadth and length it runs, as high  
As if it would the spangled Cope outvie   

In lofty glory! And if within you pry,  
How neatly furnished with rich Utensils,  
How gorgeous decked with broidered Tapestry,  
What Paintings, Carving, Guildings! What so e'er fills  
Th'eyes with content. Yet be the Seat unsound  
Foundation shallow sooned salutes the ground.   

This Palace Thou perkt up to Heaven, adorn'st  
Thee'n specious self-admired Parts, and scornest  
Thy neighbouring Underling whose humble heart  
Shall raise his praise as choosing th'Better part.  
Who deeply founded on his Rock outstands  
The proudest structure on the crumbling sands,  
That overcharged with its own pondeur, shall  
With lower-shooting violences fall  
Entombed in its own ruins ' ith'Abysse  
IT wixt which and Heaven the vastest Chasma is.    


BEE proud who can? Dost constant use to bow  
Thy serious mind by an intentive view  
Of God? How Great! How Good! Vile! Sinful thou!  
Mercies how excellnnt! and those not few!  
God Man! Mercy! Such! from Such! to such a man?  
These, and their Suches Weighed So, Where's the man?    


NO, All. And now what let's what's now between?  
Why not now join, clasp in a mutual close  
And twine in full embraces? Why not lose  
My Name my Life in Thee, so ever be  
With Thee with Thee the only Heaven I'd see.  
— No, No, All, All be gone  
For I have lost have lost myself in One.  
For ever ever Lord; that I may fear  
No more to be myself but still be here.  
And if thy wisdom see my foolish heart  
Would surfeit on thy kisses and convert  
This Grace to wantonness, shouldst still impart  
Unsowred sweets, yet though our lips must part  
(But shall they part?) never, never shall our hands;  
Though then in Hell I be yet what withstands  
But I may Vault myself to Heaven on This hold  
Whose touch is strength, whose strength is uncontrol'd.    


I Wonder how I live! I'm but a Shade,  
A Ghost. Do dead men eat? then I'll eat too.  
My life is hid with Christ in God, I'm made  
To men a stranger, to myself, nor do  
I know aught aft'r th'flesh, live in the Spirit,  
Survey the Glories that I Now inherit.   

How black's this Sun! how grim a night this clear  
This flearing day! O what an Aegypt's here  
While in my Heaven-illumined Goshen stand  
I viewing the palpablely-obscured land.  
Which did they feel it as they think they see't  
How to our Dwellings would they speed their feet!  
But still the world's the world. When shall I see  
The Sun, the Day that make these thus to me?  
I see, else knew I not these thus, would see  
More, yet more that more knowing I might be;  
I see, but oft a cloud intrudes between,  
And makes me say 'tis darkness to have seen.  
I see, one beam through th'Cranie blear's mine eye,  
When all are pointed there O where am I!  
My Light shall strength my sight, nay I shall be  
All light, for as He is I shall Him see.  
No Dark of Folly-Sin-Sorrow shall there be  
When I alight alight shall Always see.    


ACTS 10.10. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
'TIs good 'tis good being Here. Shall I go down?  
Shall I go eat whose stomach kindly swells  
With, for, by, Food-indeed? Shall I go drown  
My Faith in Sense? Or may my spirits as well  
Be lost as dulled? so too the work not haste?  
Then go flesh, go, but dip, but sip, but Taste.   

Go not unenvyed of those precious hours  
Wherein thou layest me out for dead, and yet  
Extortest more for Life where funeral flowers  
Are welcome sweets.— But what a sad regret  
Comes over, if not overcomes my spirit  
To hear them talk of straws, that Thrones inherit.   

Nay, t'hear them talk like two wh'ave but one soul,  
Bound for the same Heavenvoyage, They fall foul?   

Keep up my Faith, and there the while thee feed,  
Where when I am, no more I food shall need.   

Keep up my Faith and talk thee there the while  
Where when I am this fear shall be my Spoil.   

Keep up my Faith and then I may go down  
And through my Cross the better view my Crown.    


HOw is my soul distracted with content!  
How full of Joys, and yet how filled with Grief!  
How well composed my heart, and yet how rend!  
How often straits, and yet as oft relief!  
Impatient of delays I patiented stay:  
Oh come away dear Lord I'll not away.   

The more I have the more I still desire;  
The more I still desire the more I have.  
Thrice happy thirst whereby I so acquire  
The drink who drinks he never more shall crave.  
I ask no more but this, but more of this;  
No more, this th'only bliss, more, still there's miss.   

Oh could I ever dwell where I have been,  
Or once could be where I shall ever dwell;  
In Kedars Tents I mourn, when I have seen  
Th'Invisible, how soon my heaven to hell  
Is turned? The only hell that I can see  
To see the face reflects no God on me.   

Cast me into those Rooms of this great Inn  
Where I may hear them talk that talk of Home  
And when these worldlings which thee ne'er have seen  
Chance in my-thy appointed way to come,  
Oh jet me be so prepossessed with thee  
Hearing I may not hear, nor seeing see.   

When highest I arise I lowest fall,  
And when I lowest fall I highest rise;  
The higher, my sin and shame me more appall;  
The lower, the greater's mercy in mine eyes.  
I fall rise, rise fall, move, but never remove,  
So steadfast am I founded on his love.   

Mount up my spirit! what not Higher yet?  
Yet Higher, Higher yet, this is too low,  
Till quite above myself advanced I get  
Where my New self shall me His Glory show;  
In this third Region shall my eagle's eye  
Th'unclouded splendour of his face descry.   

Before I heard but Now, I Now behold  
Those holy beauties that first struck me dead;  
Those holy beauties that first did unfold  
The riches of my life; thus, thus is bred  
Death out of Life, Life out of Death, by his Light  
More black's mydark, mydark his Light more bright.   

Oh how I love to love such 
* Desirablenesses. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Can. 5.16.  Lovelinesses  
As Thou art Altogether! how I hate  
Myself I cannot love! oh th'expedite distresses  
That my self-jealous soul do intricate!  
Cares! Cleering! Fears! Desires! Zeal! Indignation!  
Revenge! one smile caused, cured, blessed perturbation!   

By'agreeing discord how delight's augmented!  
By these harsh touches how well graced the close  
With a full harmony! never be repent  
Shall this Repentance. When thou dost Lord compose  
A heart thus broken, 'tis then an instrument  
(And ne'er till then) can give thine ears content.   

For never thou (pleased with thyself alone)  
Breakest one in two, but bring'st two, hearts in one.  
So am I whole again, 'cause one with Thee,  
So love myself, 'cause Loving, Loved of Thee.    


O What a Consort is thy Word,  
When Place falls into Place.  
O what a Beauty is thy Word,  
When Grace is matched to Grace!  
But what a What then is That Word  
That shows all Face to Face!    


HOw fair a Casket is thy Word!  
What broken sparks it doth afford  
From every corner to invite  
My eyes to frequenter delight!  
My eyes, my wondering eyes to see  
Such radiant Christianity!  
Could I but set these sparks in one,  
What floods of lustre thence were flown!  
One's worth a world, Heaven, Earth shall pass,  
But an Iöta shall surpass.  
All saw I'n that one precious stone  
How full-rich-pleasant Glory's shown?  
How I more joy my sale of all  
Hath got m'one Pearl is more than all.    


O Let thy Pleasantnesses be 
Ps. 90.17 Amoenitates.   
Upon me Lord, how I shall fly  
About thy business, how I'll fight  
With oppositions, and delight  
Myself and thee with praise in all,  
Thus speeds the works thus on thee call.  
And what's the Beauty that doth so?  
Oh who will lead me to that show,  
And tell me yet What is my Christ  
In whom all Beauties are comprised,  
And whence if they receive not light  
They're but the devil dressed in white.    


Frown scowling World, frown, I deride the brow  
Of all thy bended powers, and scorn to bow  
Before the kneenest shafts o'th' fatal'st look  
Wherewith thy worldling's in a trembling shakes.   

Still looked I for these looks, and therefore Armed  
Me with the Armour ever keeps unharmed.  
And for thy favours, they're beneath th'desire  
Of him whose Heart-and-Treasure's far, far higher.   

Here while I keep me and not walk below  
Myself, what petty nothings all things show  
At their due distance? and how Vast the Glories  
Seen in their place and not read o'er for Stories;    


HOw vain is restless man!  
Tossed too and fro with Passions, hurled  
A Tennis-ball throughout the World!  
Now on he flies, straite's beaten back again,  
On this side now, now that, but still in Vain.   

How vain is restless man!  
You know not where to have him found;  
His earthy thoughts now creep the ground,  
Now up an hoight he flies, he'll over all  
Till caught in h's net or lost in's miring fall.   

How! how unhappie's man!  
How far his motion from his Line  
His rulelesse course from what's divine!  
Would he but leave himself in's Saviour's hand  
How steady seemly sure he'd him command?   

How worse than wretched man!  
he'd ne'er keep such a Racquet, ne'er come near  
The Hazzard could he tell where Heaven were.  
Could his Experience tell 'twere in his Heart  
And's Heart in it, 'twere a mysterious Art  
Of Peace and Righteous joy, how quicki' he'd part  
With toilsome Mock-blisse, to be truly blessed  
he'd pleasure in his Rich and Glorious Rest.    


Go Till the Garden man. Lord I should learn  
Thy ten Commandments, the Creed, thy Prayer  
Before the World, but I have these to learn  
Old Child! These known then knew I Thee, and were  
That known I knew the World and All, in All  
I'm short, Thee first I'll learn. so All.   

Thou art the only Agent act'st and yet  
Not sufferest by the Patient might I be  
More thou, then only might I be more fit  
To work on that that else would work on me  
And worldly make who do desire to make  
The World more godly and the World forsake.  
While make my Calling as a Christian  
The soul to act my Calling as a Man.   

Go Molelike Christian to the Heathen Eagle,  
Thence take instructions how to disinveagle  
Thy earth beclogged spirits, while thou soar'st  
Thy stately heaven approaching flight and poar'st  
Thence (if thou wilt poare on't) upon this so  
Admired nothing, which if ought it show  
Thou't see a little-tyney Hill of petty Aunts  
Providing for their still successive wants  
With crawling up and down to tug and haule,  
O'reburdning and o'retumbling luggage, crawl  
Never up again but here and there a few  
With much ado, some Portering Featherbeds  
Tortured with pleasures, some loading of their heads  
With break-neck Crowns, some mumbling at the Mines  
Of poor Peru, while one or two divines  
The end of this confused moil, gets wings  
And practices to fly to Nobler things,  
O wouldst thou mount thee from this dungie Globe  
To those Celestial Regions there inrobe  
Thee with thy Royal vestures tishued Gold  
And take the Potent Sceptres uncontrolled  
Thy sacred Temple's bound wi' illustrious Gems  
Adorn the endless Circle of the Diadems  
The handy work of the Eternal wrought  
Before the world, thou'tst say the world was Nought,  
Was worse than Nought, was Naught, wouldst take  
The faster gripes o'th'Kingdome ne'er can shake,  
The undefiled Inheritance, where the  
Pure Heavenly soul's Inheavened in Purity.  
Fond soul that ever bat'st the wing to know  
Again the evils of the Goods below.  
Is Heaven beneath the Moon? what dost above?  
But is't above? what dost thou Fondling move  
Thy happy station? What want'st thou there unless  
Eyes to behold thy bliss, and tongues to bless?  
Here gaze, admire, adore, and ne'er descend  
Hers entertainment that hath neither end  
In choice nor time; all Goods resolved into  
Their Simple-and-Eternall Being; who  
But mad would stoop to catch a fleeting shade  
That hath the substance that will never fade?  
But art thou called away? What Calling is't  
Whereby thy given heart may be dismissed  
From its true Owner? What Employment is't?  
Is't not a God-enjoyment where Earth hath  
No soul but Heaven, and Sense no Life but Faith  
No quickening Flesh but Spirit? he's à la mort  
If Christ his strengthening influence don't resort  
Into his Carka'st actions, who what e'er  
H's Thoughts, Words, Deeds do, doth in, & as he bears,  
His Name, from His Command, through His Powre, for  
His sake, from whom, and through whom, and for  
Whom All things are, his Life doth hold him forth  
To th'world as th'Name the Thing its Nature's worth.  
Thus moves in these inferior Spheres by th'bent  
O'th'Highest Mover, Ascends in his Descent.  
Go then about thy businesses, but know  
he's not about his business that's below,  
Eat, sleep, work, ' r not, still do to, be with, God  
God clothed i'th' Creature and a naked God.  
The great contrivement of a godly aim  
To see'im in divers shapes and still the Same,  
God manifest i'th'Flesh, is in the Flesh  
Immanuel; mysterious godliness!  
Here then's the top of that so rare an Art,  
T'keep th'Heart in Heaven, or Heaven i'the Heart.    

1 TIM. 4.15. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  

CAn they concoct well that not use to chew?  
Digest that not concoct? assimilate  
That not digest? Hence 'tis so few  
The Word into their Souls incorporate.  
Hence 'tis ensues a profane atrophy,  
Or hypocritical cacochymy.   

I'll meditate, be wholly in this thing  
Or else to none'll appear my profiting.  
Appear I must or cannot be, must fear  
Must meditate lest that I but appear.    


INwrap thyself in meditations, then  
Go forth and through them. Converse with men.  
That nothing find thee naked but s'invest  
With heavenly apprehensions that the least  
Insinuating air of the subtle world  
May find no passage, nor the storm that's hurled  
About thine ears; but thou thus wholly receiven  
Up to thy God mayst be a walking Heaven.    


MY soul's Opace, but may it be the Moon  
Unto the Sun of Righteousness; full soon  
I'll then reflect upon the world those Rays,  
In thy ways clear them, clear them to thy praise.  
Cast glimpses from that glorious Orb of Light  
To guide them glade them through this dismal night.  
This black-Prince-ruled world, but where in thine  
Thy Word, Saints, Spirit thou art pleased to shine.  
My soul is dark my brightest light but dim,  
This yet's my joy, all I have, I have from Him.  
With Wanes and Changes now I oft decline,  
But in the Full shall shortly ever shine.  
Freed from this Leasehold earth, this shady night,  
Fully possess? possessed by the Light  
Whose beaming favours from his Darkelesse face  
Condigned his Choice Coheires of Glorious Grace.    


I See no light, and yet so much I see  
As darks all other lights; I feel no love,  
And yet so much I feel as makes me flee  
All other loves; when other joys can't move  
My heart that sad perplexities annoys  
I joy this grief and grieve all other joys.  
Lord art thou gone? What shalt thou so be lost?   

Thy glorious eye into this heart hath sent  
The spark, hath took the whole, an Holocaust  
It restless mounts unto its Element.  
Fire of the Spirit it is, 'twill make no stay  
Till to the Spirit of fireed hath burnt its way.   

Show me the Father and it shall suffice,  
Whom ne'er man saw, and lived; yet seen of men.  
If death would do it, 'twere well for wicked eyes.  
Nor dead, nor living, yet seen of men, how then?  
Dead, and alive in thee, and by thy Light  
I feed on that full satisfying sight.   

'Tis not the predisposed Organ here  
That needs; the Medium of a Mediator  
Quicks deadned eyes, th'obscured Object clears,  
To th'lightless Creature the great Light Creator.  
Here see I all I'd have, the world is want,  
The Bed's too short, the Cover are too scant.    


BLack thoughts? as black as hell, and yet more black  
Their pains extort their lies. Not Good? What lack  
Hast thou of all content but only this  
I cannot see, not say Good, Good He is.  
Mad thoughts! As mad as Hell, and what's more mad  
Then to confess He is and yet is bad?  
More reason's in m'unreasonablenesse  
When say there is no God, than not confess  
Him Good, Him only Good. O could I think  
My heart so gone in love, so brought to''th' brink  
Of those Celestial Rivers thence should shrink,  
And steal me to th'infernal Lake? I think  
Who did so deeply of his goodness drink  
That this was in my heart, my heart in Heaven?  
Ne'er will I trust what hath me so deceiven.  
No, no, nor what I say for if I do,  
'Twill cheat me in That Resolution too.  
Ah Lord what won't I do? whom even now  
Thou feasted'st with the sweets of God? yet how  
How soon my mouth was full of gaulie taste,  
That thou shouldst throw away the world as waste,  
And Fire-fit refuse, yet so sure combine  
Me in that Jesus bundle of Life with Thine  
Elect who'st room enough in Him for all,  
Or mightst have kept them from their former fall.  
Blessed God 'tis therefore that I love thee so,  
That thou these wise-hid-depths to Babes wouldst show,  
(When Fools proud wisdom scorns to stoop so low.)  
Thou nothing dost because 'tis Good, 'tis Good  
Because Thou dost it. Thy good pleasure would  
That this be so; even so be it, who will  
Do what They will, may thank themselves for th'ill  
Ensus, but what Thou wilt, Thy grace;  
Who'rt placed to dwell in Satan's Place.  
O love! The God of glory Come  
(Good God) in th'unclean Spirits room.  
What am I Lord? And what thy whole  
Creation? That Thou shouldst condole  
Were't but a Man! but Millions! so condole!  
As t'beare the Shame, Blame, Death the whole  
Evils of thy Sainted Rebels, whom  
Justice judged meriting one doom!  
Love! Goodness! should I praise extend  
Unto its due, I should ne'er end.  
Nor would, nor will, but make my days  
Expire in Panegyric laycs.    


TEach me Thy Foolish wisdom Lord, and let  
The blindfold world choose wiser Follies, set  
My heart in frame to Learn-Love-Doe Thy will  
To fear to Think, Speak, Act, the smallest ill.  
Here wisdom takes beginning only Here,  
Where fear shall teach me wisdom, wisdom fear.  
Thou art Only-Wise-Immortall God, and He  
That's taught of Thee, but only taught is he  
Whose humble fear dives in those depths too deep  
For haughty Ignorance. Sleep foundlings sleep,  
And hug your dreams of wit, but when you wake  
You'll dear rue your obstinate mistake.    


HOw pleasantly I wear away my days  
I'th' sense o'renewed strength! My strength decays  
And rises by his ruins. I melt away  
How sweetly melt! still drop proud flesh defray  
Your marrow to maintain these flames, still burn  
Blessed spirit burn, me all to fire turn.  
Thoughts will pray on my spirits, life will away,  
Then live my sprightful thoughts on your decay,  
Life! Life of Lives! 'Tis only Then I Live  
When ready stand prepared with Joy to give  
Up my Account, and speed me to that day  
That gives me Life Indeed because for Ay.    


O When shall I put off these fleshly Clothes,  
And in my Earthy Bed take sweet repose,  
Until that Morning come, that Holy day  
In holy Pleasures I shall ever Play  
On well tuned Heart that Heart inamouring ditty  
That is the Consort of that Heavenly City.   

Even so Lord Jesus Come, when breaks the day  
Shows us Thy face, the shadow's flown away?  
Even so Lord Jesus Come, when breaks the day?  
Amen, Amen the Bride and Spirit say.  
I Come, I Come, so come that we may come  
Riding o'th' Clouds unto our Father's Home.    


MElt in thy Fire my Earth, blessed Spirit blow  
M'into a Glass, through whose transparent pores  
My radiant streams of holy lustre flow  
Into my light-enliv'ned soul, now poares  
On those dim glimmerings through this darksome dust  
Yet more ob scured by th'False-lights of Lusts.   

More than, more strong be those thy glorious rays  
To lift my heart up to thy heavenly ways;  
Till thou shalt spiritualise my very flesh,  
And make my glorious body see no less,    


I Cannot hold, so full, so full of Thee  
Sweet Father, help, the more's the Revelation  
Of Truth, the more, th'more strong the test'mony  
Of love, the more, th'more strong is the temptation.  
My Love burns still, and from that fire comes light  
Restores the day unto my darkest Night.   

For still I say, I know I'm ignorant  
And very bad, but Thou art Wise and Good.  
I can't but love Thee, Thy Love-Letter I can't  
But I must read, thus Truth is understood  
Received with love without delusion, so  
By knowing I learn to Love, by loving Know-worth   

A holy Life's the clearest Commentary  
I find o'th' sacred Text, the Spirit's actual  
Interpretation. IT unites what seems contrary,  
Parts One in Two; shows how 'tis, it doth call  
Grief joyful, faithful fear, lofty humbleness  
Destinguisheth of Prayer, Faith, shows who confess.   

Who makes the Word a Lantern to his feet  
God to his paths to make't a Light think's meet.    


HOw giddy I am with viewing the Sea! I'd know  
Why Thou't so ebb to some, to some so flow.  
Why this mans left, the other Love doth take?  
But woe t'him dares debate with h's Maker make.  
O Thy Wise-knowing depth's unsounded be,  
Since I cannot take Thee, take, take Thou me.  
Into Thy mercy's Ocean be I receiven,  
I know 'twill bear me to my Haven Heaven.  
That shall declare Thy righteousness, that shall  
Thy Judgements manifest, God's Judge of All,  
Great! Wonderful Thy Works! Just, true Thy Ways  
Shall be the ditty of Thy worthy Praise.    


MY Head's lost in my Heart; sure I'm in love,  
Forget all, yea, m'own thoughts while thus above.  
And now what's this steals slily in my head  
My spirits thus in my heart concentered?  
Don't I believe? My heart, my life won't say it,  
And for my thoughts, what need I so much weigh it?  
Thoughts oft confound themselves, I love, I live,  
The God the Life that none but Christ can give.  
Am crucified, dead, buried, risen, ascended,  
Begin the Life that never shall he ended.    


MY Head doth ache, and yet my Head  
Doth feel no pain.  
My Head is well, and yet my Head  
Doth still complain.  
Well, I'll go lay it on my Husband's knee  
Where stroke it with His gentle hand shall He.   

His Palm's a medicine Sovereign;  
If He but touch  
The Fever leaves, if He refrain  
Yet I'll not grudge;  
there's somewhat in't, He's Wise, Good, ake'sed still? well,  
'Ts Thy mercy Lord it shall never ache in Hell.   

Ne'er ache in Hell? then ever in Heaven  
Triumph o'er grief.  
And shan't this all thy Sowers unleav'n  
With sweet relief?  
But weigh them well they'll overpoise them quite;  
What's Earth to Heaven? Finite to Infinite?   

And now my Faith what dost? where art?  
What? Yield to Sense?  
Or hast forgot thy Heavenly Art  
How to dispense  
Joys suiting every sorrow? I wonder too  
Were't in the Martyr's flames how Then Thou'dst do.   

Lord give me strength, and Thou shalt take the praise,  
Lord take my strength, and That shall give Me praise.    


NOw mouldering Earth, why hangest the head?  
Hast not a Soul? why? why so dead?  
Or shalt be more enslaved by  
Thy pains, whose pleasures conquered lie?  
No, no, 'tis more ingenuous bred,  
With courage as well as wisdom sped.  
My spirit (not mine) 's egregious, I  
THEM among the Excellent, who so high  
That I not Emulate? And can  
I'ndure to see a Publican  
Thus match me? He can bless i'th' warm  
Sun, but I'd bless i'th' sharpest storm.  
I'd pray, I'd praise my pains away,  
And lull my grief asleep, a way  
Of sweet success. I'd drown my swine,  
This touchy grunting grumbling repine  
In my own waving passions. Suage  
By reg'lar passions, passions rage;  
By this my heavenly indignation  
Appease this earth-fumed perturbation,  
Attempts to Shipwreck peace in vain  
That still's afloat o'th' calmed Plain.  
Thy breath the winds did blow away,  
Thy Word the boisterous billows stay.  
Thou saidst I should do greater things,  
For Faith in 'tis power all things brings,  
Thou'dst be commanded by it, I should  
B'as sure of what so e'er is good  
As if thou wert at their Commands  
Who humbly-bold wait, watch, thy hands,  
But I would do what thou hast done,  
I'd make dim eyes play with the Sun.  
Dead spirits from their graves would bring,  
And make deaf ears to hear them sing;  
This dumb-grown tongue thy wonders tell,  
I would do all things wondrous well;  
I'd th'lowest dullest flatness raise  
To th'highest tones of clearest praise.  
I'd fight humours reconcile,  
But if they'll fight, I'd feast the while.  
I'd tune distempers to thy praise,  
Turn cloudy nights to Sunshine days,  
Teach fainting hands to ring applaud,  
And parched bones to spring with laud;  
Smooth wrinkling gripe with a smile,  
But if they won't I'd sing the while,  
How ere it be yet Thou art good  
And better ditty I ne'er would.  
Hold up declining Arms, hold up,  
Pour praises from an empty Cup;  
For Grace is no more void than Nature,  
Where th' creature wants, there's the Creator,  
Where that goes out, there He comes in  
As well as where there goes out sin.  
When then there's place that's empty o'thee,  
Then, not till then I'll empty be,  
Thy presence then when Thou shalt cease,  
Then, not till then, I'll cease to bless.  
(Than never shalt Thou be unblessed  
By him wh'hath thee a constant Guest,  
Though in the dark a while we be,  
Yet cause I see the Dark, I see.)  
The world, or want, All's one to me,  
The while in either I ha'thee,  
M'thinkes I can't but often pray  
That thou wouldst take this world away,  
For while 'tis seen it bars my sight,  
And I find faith the sweetest delight.  
But all thy counsels have their beauty,  
And all my comfort's in my duty;  
For thou hast taught my faith the way  
Through all to pass t' m'eternall stay  
Thee! Thee! O wouldst thou take me now  
Thy child, that to thine arms doth bow  
Its straining soul, loath to be held  
By th'world in'ts pleasing'st usage yields  
But pains. O Thou that all things made  
And canst revive them when they fade.  
Thou that the Chaos fram'dst so fair,  
And from four discords matched so rare  
A set of healthy harmony,  
Canst when thou please make all agree.  
And what's my Music but thy pleasure,  
And but thyself what is my treasure?  
Then let it go, and go my health,  
So will's my music so my wealth.  
Be packing, packing, get thee gone,  
No more dear friend, He's all or none:  
Be packing, packing, get thee gone,  
No more dear health he's all or none:  
Be packing, packing, get thee gone.  
No more dear self, He's all or none:  
Be packing, packing, get thee gone,  
No more dear Nothing He's all or none.  
'Tis very well then I am ill  
If this be ill, be I so still;  
Till thou shalt see it fit to tell  
M'its very well that I am well.  
'Tis very well friend I thee miss,  
The miss o'th' world's a world of Bliss.  
Leave out thou sayst this paltry Crotchet,  
'Twill sound but ill, and shall I botch it  
Into the Song, sound it as 'twill,  
And so say I ha'th'better skill?  
How too it grates my curious ears,  
My tender Bowels wracks, and tears  
M'observant head, sets m'teeths on edge  
Against myself essayed t'abridge  
My joy, my stretching it besides  
Thy Will, where all my joy resides.  
And when all's done so must I play,  
The sweet the while lost by delay.  
Strike off the sin, strike as thou please,  
Blot out th'offence, I seek not ease.  
And yet my ease because it is  
Thy pleasure t'keep me still in Bliss.  
My ease, my pleasure therefore is,  
Or strike, or not, I'm still in Bliss.  
Nay this my ease, my pleasure is,  
Strike or forbear the hand is His.  
Thanks! thanks! Thinkest th'Angels now are still?  
The just men's perfect spirits fill  
Not Heaven with their chanting voice?  
thou'rt o'the Choir my soul, rejoice,  
Thou mayst, thou must praise with the gods,  
The God makes music with his rods.  
He's one Entire, Pure, Perfect Happiness,  
No shaddo ' o' change, in him thou art, e'er Blest, e'er Bless.    

2 KINGS 4.  

ONce was I dead, Authority then brought,  
Applied thy Word, but nought, till Thou cam'st, wrought.  
And now I languish i' this fainting fit,  
The means begun my life best strengthens it.  
Come lay then eyes to eyes, mouth, hands, that I  
May see, sing, do, more wonders till I die  
To see, to sing, to do thy Will above  
As here to have it seen, sung, done, I love.   

When I loved death, and ran away from life,  
My wanton Circuits for some fresher sin,  
Mercy pursued, o'ertook, and with its strife  
Inclined my will to know God Good again.  
Good God and now I fear to step awry  
Thy hand's as near as thy ne'er slumbering eye.   

I stumble, but not fall; fall, off not fall;  
That, shoots me the more forward, upward this;  
Obliquely I ascend; why, why at all  
Dearest God? O love, O fear the Lord that is  
So wondrous good! O fear th'least temporal miss  
Of such a friend secures Eternal bliss.  
ne'er leave me! such company! such for ever!  
Infinite simplicity of joys! I sever  
Myself a moment for a momentary  
Shadow of bliss? These thoughts first must I vary.  
Eternity is little enough t'imploy  
In him and shall I bate a moment's joy?  
Avaunt false loves, I'll lose you All for Ever  
 I will miss a minute of this pleasure,  
To lie enfolded in my Saviour's arms,  
To feast upon his kisses while he warms  
He melts my soul into his melting arms,  
Presumptuous Rivals still your Siren charms,  
My soul is at her heights and cannot stoop  
To lend an ear to your enchanting Cup.  
No, no, I've Nectar, I have Flagons here,  
One drops enough ten thousand Worlds to rear  
As far above themselves as now they are  
Below Him who is only worth compare.  
Feed Sensualist on dreams of airy Thrones,  
Of golden Mountains, and of pleasure Own's  
No parallel; but give me leave to tell  
The, ' hadst been in Heaven, thou'dst say thou art in Hell.  
Who ere was thus imbedded in Thy breast  
Dear Lord and could find other where his rest?  
His Rest that moves in such an endless sweet  
Where all the Spirits of the Godhead meet  
With my diffused soul entwines itself  
In fresh rencounters with'ts imbettering Self.    


I'M in a strait, pressed hard on either hand,  
I both ways haste and yet am at a stand.  
I, here is Christ, but there is more of Christ,  
Here in my mouth and heart, but there is nigh'st.  
What is't but love can keep me from the sight  
The perfect sight of my select delight?  
But love's obedient, if thou'lt bid me go  
And travel on this Pilgrimage below,  
Do, suffer, seven and seven years, so to show  
How grounded's my affection, that 'tis no  
Fond fancy that the giddy world deceives,  
I go, I run, I fly, yet give me leave  
To bear thy Picture next my heart, to look  
Upon th'adored Beauties of thy Book;  
That they may be the covering of mine eyes  
So to preoccupy them from these lies.  
O glories! Can I hold! Can I refrain?  
But still thou sayst, and therefore I, Remain.  
Love's not its own, lives in'ts Beloved, thinks good  
Not what the Subject but the Object would.    


COntent to live, but covetous to die,  
Glad here to do more good, but more to fly  
Above these sad temptations to do ill.  
Yet covetous again of life to fill  
Heaven with more saved souls, and yet again  
Death, not t'occasion more Hell filling sin.  
Thus while I waver in this blessed doubt,  
This blessed propensity thus helps me out  
Lord while thou wilt I'd live, and when thou wilt  
I'd die, my humble soul learned at the foot  
Of my dear Jesus, no true rule's t'be had  
To judge of right and wrong, of good and bad  
But by thy Will and Nill.  
Thus living die I still,  
And dying live; thus m'will he gives  
In both, because I die and live.  
Beset with Heaven on every hand  
Prepared for Heaven thy Command.    

HIgh and happy is that pitch of Christianity that can so well reconcile the greatest of enemies, Life and Death, as that they both friendly take up their lodgings in the same Breast, and see themselves entertained with the same respect, at the same time, without the least grudging or repining at each other. The heart not vexed with any partial peremptory desires of either. But they quietly residing in it, and officiously waiting on it with a dexterous serviceableness, to discharge either of their duties according to the good pleasure of God, signified to the God-well-pleased soul. Then is a Christian like Himself, when he hath that power over himself, as to walk with his life in his hand, as ready at the least sound of the word given, either to lay it down, or put it up again in his heart. When he wears it lose about him like an outer garment, ready to slip on and off as occasion serves. This is the only man that is fit to Live, who is fit to Die, and fit to Die, who is fit to Live. He that knows how to Live hereafter is well prepared how to Live here, and he is not prepared to departed hence, that knows not how to Live hereafter. He that knows no difference betwixt earth and heaven, but more and less of God, as he can not but be continually making more after heaven, because after more of God; so can he not but be as willing to stay on the earth, while it is more agreeable to the will of God which is Himself the Heaven of a Christian. Blessed! blessed soul thus scented in his God To whom the sound of the feet of death are delightful, and the drawing out of his days is pleasant. When the withering'st age detains not too long in life, nor the flourishing'st youth hastens too soon to death. As he that crowned with all the pomps and pleasures that the fragrant'st, the fertilest Garden of the world can afford, see's nothing in the whole but mere vanity, mere nothingness, less than nothing. And on the other hand, cast forth into the driest and barrend'st Wilderness, the vast and howling Desert, still digs up Fountains of everliving and never exhausted waters, and makes his Bacha his Baracha, his vale of tears a mountain of praises, as 
* Psal. 84. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  drinking Him for his Spring who is the Lord of Life and Glory.   


SEest how this string untouched doth quickly stir.  
At th'sound of that? they not, who'd not so far?  
Where are the soundings of thy Bowels Lord?  
Our Bowels sound, and shall not thine accord?  
They touch Thee not, but thine eyes-apple they touch,  
And wilt not stir when their presumption's such?  
And though we cannot move our neighbour's heart,  
Yet in our grief wilt not thou bear thy part?  
Thou art our Father. Oh let there never be  
Even in Inanimates more Sympathy.  
Forget her Child a mother may, yet not  
Thou thine, for if they are, thyself's forgot.  
Draw out our Souls, and make us follow thee,  
For where thou art, there only, there are we.    


ENough Lord, 
July 1640.  Mercy enough, take my life from me,  
I better than my Fathers? No, s'bad, I'd die.  
Were I left only. Yet were I still with Thee.  
But I'm so fickle, s'inconstant; one while I  
Conquer Philistims, break through all, but then  
My strength is gone, and I'm like other men.   

〈…〉 renewed, and now had I  
〈…〉 I'd so employ  
〈…〉 ●ation  
Go their 〈…〉  
Exalts itself above the highest Throne,  
And sweeps down Stars, whose lustre hath outshone  
Their artificial Fires, and made their Light  
Appear th'ditch-plunging Vapours of the Night.  
Lulled were we fast asleep while they Us shave,  
But in thy Name we'll valiantly behave  
Ourselves, 've strength an t'spare, we'll be, more be  
Than conquerors, yea shortly on Them see,  
Wh'have long deprived us of our sight, and made  
Us grind the grist keeps up the Romish Trade,  
And now wee'z make them sport, but such as makes  
Them and their Conclave feel their Downfall shakes.  
Down, down it goes this Lordly Machination  
On their own Lordlesse hearts, this reputation  
Have all His Saints; let not the vision be  
Prolonged Lord. When, when shall I once see  
These Cockatrice's Eggs, These Spider's webs,  
Crushed and swept down? This Flood even now it ebbs  
Whileed more Rebellion than the Ocean sounds,  
That curbs its proud Waves by its Maker's bounds.  
isn't th'mystery of Iniqu'ties Measure found  
Orerunning th'brim? strike't, strike't, and throwed to th' ground.  
O when's That's Shortly Thou't under our feet contrite  
All desperate haters of Thy holy Might!    


SWell on proud Toad, and with thy swelling burst.  
Spit venom still, I've m'Antidote. How sayest?  
I can't endured? Nor He thee thou accursed,  
That blest the meek; I wonder how thou prayest?  
Thy Will be done? What? Wilt th' prerogative  
'S His Glory? To none other will He give.   

A Touch? a Pin? a Word? a Look make such a brabble?  
But brought on Bed thy self-will never eased?  
Gi'th'Child its will, & give the Fool its babble,  
And who more pleasant? The devil's well when he's pleased.  
But, whose of God is pleased when He's not well;  
His Will's his Pleasure, and his own 's his Hell.    


NO, fear not Thou for Thou dost Jesus seek  
Meek righteous soul, to make thee righteous meek.  
Fear nothing, nothing else but Him who can  
Yet cannot 'cause he will not hurt a Man;  
A man of God, whose single, watchful eye  
Heart, mind, strength, might, joy, time, doth all employ  
In all Commands, with all their due extents;  
And sweetly still the humble soul relents,  
And drooping dropping, dropping in his breast will cry  
Ah wretched unprofitable servant I,  
O blessed and profitable servant Thou  
Rewarded with th'All powerful God, and how  
How canst thou fear, wh'hast Him who all things made?  
Fear not He bids; then fear to be afraid.  
Fear not the Lion, but the way, watch, pray  
He'd keep th'in his, who keeps His in their, way.    


THat fear and love is good and great  
That Goodness fears, and Greatness loves.  
Good; for a slave may fear a threat;  
And every rascal money moves.  
Great; the greatest fear from 
* Miserimum est fuisse foelicem. Sinand misery is, as it is to Holinesse-and Happiness. Had not they first been, we had never known these. It is the full and feeling apprehension of their irrecoverable loss that makes Hell Hell to the wicked; And the fear of their indiscoverable obscuring that makes fear fear to the godly. In this so far exceeding that of the ungodly, that the fear of the one ariseth from the loss of God, of the other from the loss of themselves; an infinitely sweet and gracious God, a poor petty contemptible worm. The soul of the one widened in the great & vast apprehensions of the incomprehensible simplicity of God; of the other, shrunk up & shriveled in the straight & narrow bounds of its own welfare. That being a fear of Love, the workings whereof are stronger than Death; this of hatred that shall be kept under the power of Eternal Death. That being that which draws the soul infinitely after him; binds it indissolvably to him, makes it dwell everlastingly in him, who is Love, all Love, and in whom is no hatred at all. This, that which contracts it into itself, in a strait and scanty compass, carries it off, makes it fly, and keep at a distance, from him who is Heaven, while they are flying from Hell. There being nothing that lays a stronger engagement on the soul than Love, and therefore nothing that doth more intent and increase the affections conducible to its preservation: Which did an Arminian feel, he would never exclaim against free Grace, and absolute Predestination, as a doctrine of sinful liberty, but rather (as I may call it) against forced Grace, and dependant Predestination. The fears, cares, worries of the slave, and mercenary beginning and ending in himself, he not labouring out of a single eye, but as seeing the whip and lash over his head, the mess of Pottage at his hand, while the adopted Son, that lives at his Father's Court, and is ascertained of the Inheritance, can as well (qua talis, as such, whose heart is so enlarged and carried forth in the sense of divine joys and loves) endure any the least aberration from its Father's good pleasure, as he that hearing him bespeak him with such like kind compellations, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  my dear, my precious Son, the child of my kisses my pleasant embrace, for whose trouble my bowels are troubled, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  on whom in tender mercy I will have tends everlastingly tender mercy, etc. can choose but be affected with the most quick and ready concord of bowels, the most passionately stirring 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, the most Sonlike givings, givings up of soul, and consequently acted with a more than manlike fear, care, working to be ever, ever pleasing, such a Father, such a God to whom he finds it so good to draw, to be, so near.  Loss doth rise,  
Heroicque spirits catch not flies.    


HOw full of sweetness is my foul,  
While in this boundless Ocean it rolls,  
IT self in concurring floods of Bliss,  
Where meets in One what ever is.  
O How I dread thy mercies? How  
Embrace thy judgements? on whose brow  
Sits lovely Sovereignty  
Enthroned in an Identity  
Of awful smiles! whose holy beams  
Influence Seas of grateful streams  
Through all thy ways, whose every path  
A sweetly fresh occurrent hath  
To bathe my blissful soul, sings still  
Jehovah is in all; and till  
He cease to be, he never will  
To do, Great! Good! nor I to fill  
My reverential heart with praises,  
Whose welcome fear my spirit raises  
To such an height of self-contempt that all  
This and the world below below me fall  
Poor despicable spectacles toth' soul that fears  
Nothing but what it Loves, nor loves but what it fears.  
Hence peddling world, with all thy paltry pack  
Truss up, away, be gone. Nor have I lack.  
What? Fair foul skins? full empty bags?  
Fresh rotting bays? are these thy brags?  
They have no Grandeur to amuse  
My freeborn spirits scorn to choose  
What so inadequate will prove,  
Unto the Heavenly vastness of my Love.  
Nor when I see thee cross my way,  
Armed in thy terrors to essay  
Me with fell brows and felling blows  
Canst make me stoop to thy dispose.  
there's no such amiableness appears  
T'attract the sweetness of my fears.  
So canst not play the Cheater nor  
The Thief, I thus provided for.  
Nor have I time nor strength t'attend  
Thy gaudy trifles, nor to lend  
An ear unto thy trifling threats;  
Whilst such a fearefull-Love completes  
Itself by growing more One in One;  
My busied thoughts o'erwhelmed alone  
In my exceeding! Great! Reward,  
My Buckler and my shielding Guard.  
Whose Sunne-amasing bright aspects,  
Majestic Grace, Inf'nt protects,  
Omnipotent Benignities,  
Eternal favours, my soul ne'er sees  
But wonder-struck it panting lies  
For life to live before those eyes  
Whose every glance conveys such sparks  
As all created beauties darks;  
And wholly makes my loving fear  
Enjoy th'enliv'ning die there;  
Breaking through every object to  
Th'great Love with whom I have to do.  
(That fires out mixtures while he warms  
Pure hearts in's purifying arms)  
Trampling on worlds with all their force  
And fraud that strive to stop my course.  
There lie thou sprawling fear, and there  
Disheartened love, so proudlyed dare  
T'usurp the name belongs to One  
Doth both as you yourselves oppone.  
Let vulgar men, have vulgar minds,  
Let false fear kill, while fond love blinds,  
Let vulgar men have vulgar minds,  
Move cross and stumbling lie behind;  
Unenterfairing even paced  
Affections smoothl'each other haste  
And me on them as the same feet  
O'th' same Heaven-journying soul to meet  
The same desire one blessed God,  
Who ne'er made passions be at odds.    


BUt Sin and Satan fearest not them?  
No, no, nor them, they can't condemn  
Me, that must be the Higher power,  
Whose fear their fear doth overpowre.  
Why should I so disgrace my Birth?  
A piece of Heaven-inspired Earth?  
Shall I degenerate from my Birth?  
And to base fears resign my Mirth?  
No, 'tis not them I fear but Him,  
Whose love will never lose a limb.  
I conflict with a conquered foe  
Wh'hath only strength enough to show  
The stronger over ruling hand  
Subjecting All things to'ts command.  
I'll wary, cautions, active be,  
And so my fear, from fear shall free.  
Give me no fear but that which meets  
In hearty joys, and honved sweets;  
A well composed Ingredient  
To make the more complete content;  
A pure, a clean, a cleansing, sound,  
Strong strengthening healthy fear, whose ground  
Is Love, is Faith, a hopeful fear,  
A fear of great delight's my fear.  
Sweet fear! How oft I'd name thee, ere  
I'd let thee go? who art so near  
So dear unto my heart! Sweet fear!  
That makest such Music in mine ear!  
That feast'st me with such royal cheer,  
Such heavenly fare the while I hear  
Thee say the King my Father's here,  
The King my Husband's come to bear  
Me company, to solace me  
W'th all manner o' pleasants hid for me  
Unworthy me! to sup and dine,  
To banquet with me with the wine  
The generous wine repleats my soul  
With raised spirits above th'control  
Of men and devils, while humbly wait  
On th' gracious Counsels that impart  
So glad a course of watchful work,  
T'avoid the sad temptations lurk  
About m'in every corner, and  
Hath promised me he'll ever stand  
Close by me wi'hs ne'er slumbering eye,  
Ne'er shortened Arm, that can espy,  
That can prevent, thought he so good,  
Evill's at th'great'st distance, but he would  
Have them approach, assault, to try  
How much of that great God may lie  
In such a little piece of flesh,  
What mighty power he can express  
B' a broken contrite heart, what high  
What unconceived delights defy  
The highest-aspiring grief, and scorn  
T'be overreached, overborne  
By'ts cruel Talons, but still soar  
Their Heaven-securing flights, as more  
Advanced b' its pursuits, while still  
Resolve t'be uppermost, will-nill  
All th' ravenous griefs and Harpy fears,  
Though th'hugest terriblest flock appears,  
Sweet fear! still sweet! And have I met  
Thy name again? Though counterfeit,  
That would betray me while I let  
The feigned sound have entrance, yet  
As error proved makes the truth  
More lovely, so its falsehood doth  
Thy faithful friendship, while I find  
They're purposely of him designed  
These hid as well as open foes,  
That may th' sagacity disclose  
That with the courage lies enclosed  
In this my faithful fear reposed  
In that All-powerfull breast. Sweet fear!  
Wise Valiant fear! still may I fear,  
Yet never fear, to lose thee, fear  
Thy miss, but not thy loss, may hear  
May see as well as know thou art  
A constant lodger in my heart.  
While still thou art in exercise  
Of some sage puissant enterprise.  
Still watchest, prayest, workest, waitest,  
Still fightest, still beatest thy way through straits.  
Sweet fear! how oft I'd name thee ere  
I'd let thee go? who art so near  
So dear unto my soul! sweet fear!  
That makest such Music in mine ear!  
Well, make it still within my heart  
We'r still together, though we part.    

Il faut avoir Courage iusques & apres la mort.  

THe shrill mouthed Trumpet, and the rattling Drum,  
The clattering armour, and the quivering Spear,  
Swords glittering, Canons roaring, these become  
The Spirit that's steeled with Faith, not barred with fear  
The smell of sulphur, and the sight of blood,  
The sense of wounds, of death, the heart yet good.   

Thus muster up thy forces day by day,  
Thus fight before thou fightest, this is the way  
To carry it sure, put on thy panoply  
Armed Capapea thy proudest foe defy,  
What needest thou Christian fear maintain the field,  
God is thy Shield, Tower, Captain, never yield,  
Or fearest thou more the fiery darts of men  
Than devils, these quenched, shall those affright thee? and when  
Thou shouldst be bold because thou art afraid;  
In weakness God his power is perfect made.    


HAst seen the Hunter hurry down like thunder  
Headlong descents, bear up the steepest Crag,  
Leap hedge and ditch, cut gates and bars asunder,  
Break through the thickets, plunder through the Quags,  
Scour o'er the Hillocks, fly it o'er the Plains,  
Outface the winds, laugh at the storming reins?   

Forget his hunger, envy not the Briars  
His clothes, his flesh, wi'h's Steed undaunted prance  
Through lonely Heaths perplexed Woods never tires,  
But on, still on he rides, and if he chance  
To get a fall, leaps nimbly up again,  
And makes the ground to feels more swift disdain.   

Thus fired with courage, nought but fear refrains,  
Thus sports in is perils, pleasures in his pains.   

Up Heaven-bred heart, up This 'tis doth demerit  
The exercise of thine Heroic spirit.   

Shall that brave breast recoil? what, what temptation  
Dismays the man, whose danger's recreation!  
How his resisted soul will reinforce  
Itself, and take new valour to its course!  
Through all he breaks down all he bears, o'er all  
He flies, his saith is furthered by his fall.  
For what his nimble eye could not prevent  
His noble heart turns to encouragement.  
And counts small undertake too too small  
For that Great mind that nothing great can call  
But God On, on brave hearts; What, what temptation  
Dismays the man whose danger's recreation.  
Not fears the hardest injeopardingst, and yet fears,  
The lightest secur'st, Employment, since he hears  
More all-sufficiency in th' Aeternall's Word  
For th' difficult'st exploits, and findesed conferred  
On's Heaven-raised soul, then'n Himself sees  
To th' least good thought vast insufficiencies.  
Thus by this feebleness made more apprehensive  
O'th' gracious supervenient strength'i's defensive,  
Offensive succours, He finds so sweet a greet  
In's R'covering Heart, where strength and weakness meet,  
God and himself, Hereed feign b'unchambered, byth' '  
Free quickening Air; grown stronger, ' d conflict with  
The ruder winds; and yet his strength increased  
Stirs up the heartened Champion to request  
The King his Master to design him to  
Some singular service which he passing through  
With perill-edging puissance might prove  
The Sovereign vigour of his Soveregne's love  
Armed w'th ' All-powrefull Arm, that rends in pieces  
The hugest hosts of foes as th' slender Fleeces  
O'th' slightest rottenest Wool. What, what temptation  
Dismays the man whose Danger's Recreation?  
●●st not thy exercise? Is't not to try  
Thy strength that Thou mayest know't and magnify  
●●is Giver? Is't not use legs and have them, use travel  
And use shall teach thee nimbly trip the gravill, 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Epict. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.   
And how thou'rt here mista'n, 'tis not th' affliction  
Whereby thou sufferest but thine own affection.  
No man can hurt thee unless thou wilt what may  
An Heathen teach thee magnanimity? O pray  
Pray for more faithful courage, let men see  
Ethics are yet to learn o'Theology.  
What fearest but sin? looks it after what but grace?  
Since there's so much in these, than these embrace.  
Count them thy Pleasure, Glory, and thy Gains  
For what gets more of Christ's well worth thy pains.  
From the eater meat, cruel sweet, dark light, ill good;  
A Riddle in heaven's fully understood.  
Here were our hearts s ' Inheavened in Holiness  
As there they'll be, even here they'd see no less.    

〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  

SImplicitie-Immutabilitie  
Art thou O'Lord? and am I as thou art?  
One Spirit with Thee? this contrariety  
Whence is it then whence this inconstant heart?  
Were't but that to thy sacred Image I  
THEM renewed, I'd look for more Analogy.  
One spirit, yet many loves, yet many changes?  
O be there now no mixtures, no estranges.  
O here's my woe, incorrespondency  
My deeds unlike themselves, and all to Thee.  
O try, refine, rack, supernaturalize,  
Extract, subtle, sublime, spiritualise.  
O spirit, spirit, what shall I do for spirit?  
This body o' Sin, this rotten Carcase, bury it.  
How ' nweldy ' 'tis! how overgrown with flesh!  
How faintly it works! More spirits to refresh.  
I can't endure these lame, sick, presents t' give,  
Or make me lively, or not let me live.  
O could I keep my Orb and constant shine,  
I'd draw up worlds with influence divine,  
And mount their spirits, but so dim, low, cool,  
They'll fear 'tis but some Meteor to befool  
Them not so wise to deem the different doom  
Between a setting Sun, and falling Fume.  
Much light 'tis shows the Sun, much fruit the Root,  
The Root, the Sun Thou art, then may my fruit,  
My Light be much, that men may wonder much  
What's th'lightful Root, whose fruitful Light is such!  
I am thine Image, don't men judge of Thee  
By me? Ah Lord, let me no longer be,  
Or be more like Thee; What no more holy yet?  
More perfect yet? Nay, my heart entreats Thee, let  
Me branded be for a damned hypocrite,  
Or my-thy Light let it increase its might.  
The soul Thou sayst, that's clean-and sound promoves  
In strength; the righteous man his Light improves  
Unto the perfect day; but better I  
For ever perish, than Thou once shouldst lie.  
They're foolish men, and if I once do ill  
From P'rticulars to Generals argue will,  
From Man to God; but how ever I be,  
Yet Thou art good, when wilt Thou come to me.  
O that I could but wish to wish to be  
For ever in Hell, then be a jot from Thee.  
This th' only Hell, then may I there ne'er be.  
O could I keep my earth-freed wish to be  
For ever in Heaven, then be a jot from Thee.  
Thee! Thee! But '— die for fear, for love of Thee!  
Great! Good! what not? but I sin? shame  
Glory! Grace! Grace? nay Then I'll live, Thy Name  
With loudest praises I'll promulgate, Then  
My heart, my life shall say Amen, Amen.    


ORub me, rub me, He is passed by,  
Passed by— my breath, my life, my I.  
O— what— but—  
My hanging hands and feeble knees agree  
To join their suit for speedy remedy.  
My yearning looks, and rolling bowels make  
A sad relation of Thy sad forsake.  
My yearning looks, and rolling bowels make  
A glad petition for Thy gladding sake.  
For Thy forsake I faint, I sink, I die,  
But for Thy sake I live, I rise, I fly,  
And over all I high.  
I post, I speed, I cannot stay,  
For Faith is nimble in its way.  
I post, I speed, I cannot stay,  
For love and love know no delay.  
I post, I speed, I cannot stay,  
For Faith and Love are all my stay.  
I post, I speed, I cannot stay,  
For Love in Sense must end my way.    


HEalth, Wealth, Name, Liberty,  
The World at will, enough,  
Take thy ease, and mind thee.   

The World? what's that to me?  
Not elbowroom enough  
To turn and wind me.   

Not peeping hole to see  
My Love; not breath enough  
For my Lungs to wind me?   

Great! great deficiency!  
Not lightsome room enough  
To lose, ne'er find me.   

Would not I die? did not I eye  
Thee far before myself?  
Would not I pray myself away  
From all this paltry pelf?  
Would I demur when gone so far  
In love to thy Great Self?  
Would I descend, and not there spend  
MY into Thy Endless Self?   

No sure I'd go, I'd never hold my head,  
And keep my flushed spirits from their flight,  
To roll their chantings i' the Darkelesse Light,  
And sing enlargement from the living dead.   

But that I hear me thinks a voice behind,  
Sing Evangelic Anthems through thy life  
Thy Heavenly concord's woo'the I ambe a wife  
Wives, and more win the spirit of their mind.   

corrivals here increase their mutual flame,  
byth' ' mutual praisings of th' all pleasing Name.   

O make me then thy Instrument  
So holding to thy hearts content,  
So true unto the Touch each string,  
Each strain so suit, each Note so bring  
A grace unto the rest, that they  
May fall in love that hear thee play.  
May hear thee play that they may fall  
In love that raises above all  
To dwell with, dwell in him that is  
Because the God of love, of bliss.    


Where would thou go this morning wand'ring soul?  
With whom would sport? or where would make thy bait  
At noon? and at the falling Sun wilt roll  
Thy wearied Limbs? He that Thee did create  
And Recreate, He shall thee recreate,  
He feed, He lodge Thee, and He be thy Mate.  
Thy Mate? then like the faithful Dove complain,  
Watch on th' house top alone, till He come back  
(Who is not gone) be all thy pleasures pain,  
Thy Food thy Famine, and thy Bed thy Wrack.  
Till He's all These to Thee that's All in All,  
No vain, no chaffy joys thy mind forestall.   

I can't feed on a Stone, a Scorpion.  
'Tis only Bread, 'tis Egg that I can eat.  
Not on this Vanity and Vexation,  
'Tis Angel's food, 'tis Manna is my meat.  
To th' poisonous breathed Egyptians I resign  
The Leeks and Onions, the husks unto the Swine.   

I tell thee worldling in my meat's such might,  
That on one feast I forty days can travel,  
Exposed to wind and weather, watch, ward, fight,  
Defy the gates of Hell; would not this gravel  
Thy Earth-fed strength? Keep the an Egyptian slave?  
And make thee-Canaan leave to spirits more brave?   

O how I cu'd even melt into Compassion,  
Pour out my soul in pity to behold  
Those that for godliness are in the fashion,  
But for the power, have they skill, are they bold  
About them with the two edged Sword to play  
Through right, left hand temptations cut their way?   

Poor souls, a taste that ne'er yet did enjoy  
How good is God; it may be wet their Lip  
In a Communion Cup; or like the Boy  
O'th'vint'ners' palates the essaying sip  
Commends it for good, and spurts it on the ground.  
God in their Mouths, not in their Reins is found.   

Poor souls that never drew their draught so deep  
Of this Rich Philtre, that it threw their veins  
Into those inward hidden parts might creep;  
There on Love's Hearth to tine the fire disdains  
An Ocean, which should it it surprise,  
'Twould but zeals heat antiperistasize.    


HOw ought hath thy Servant wished his knees  
Were glued to''th' ground? they were, for did he rise  
The skin untorn fro'th ' flesh? 't's his death who sees  
Such holy Beauties to divert his eyes.  
But Thou bid'st rise. Well-'t's but a turn, still walk  
I with my God, still Hear, still See, still Talk.   

I turn not from, but with, 've many a walk;  
All Mercy and Truth, Paths, rugged, lower ground.  
Yet Can nor wrench my foot shall make to stray  
From Him, His Angels keep me, thus I found  
Not th'World, not Hell perverts the conversation,  
As th'heart unshooed with's Gospel's preparation.   

Lord did I love Thee as I love to love  
Midst crooked Men, Things, can't I be upright?  
When in afflictions waters thou dost prove  
My affections? Shan't their fire increase its might?  
But on command the world I'd never touch,  
Search me and try me if my heart been't such.   

Would I not still keep in immediate vision?  
How 'fraid again lest Tenter-hooked I be  
By mediate things? lest aught should cause division  
Between my soul and body, God and me.  
Lead me not hence unless't be in thine hand.  
Thy Mandates Promises Promises Command.   

I'd shake off all men business turn Anchorite,  
And wrap my quiet soul int's own content,  
Housed from the wind and weather would delight  
Myself in my New World, till having spent  
MY appointed time, my wished change should come  
And fetch me from my Cell, t' my Father's home.   

Try, Try my heart dear Lord. O where's the man  
That loves his neighbour as himself, his God  
Above ten thousand worlds and lives that can  
With filial thankfulness runt ' kiss the rod,  
And pray as heartily for it as his food  
As oft as his good Father sees it good.   

O where's the man that is the Inward man?  
Whose Eyes, Tongue, Senses all, keep still within,  
With God; ne'er step without until he can  
Receive his warrant thence, skill, strength, the gin  
To shun to break, that lies in every thing,  
And so thorough all, himself to God Re-bring.   

O where's the man that watches every thought,  
That cannot miss his God a minute's space,  
But's in a swoon, who's heart at th'smallest fault  
Boils with revenge against himself. Where th' face?  
Whose smiles are all reflects, all h's sadnesses  
Eclipses of the Sun of Righteousness.   

His looks thus a true Looking-glass o'h's Soul,  
His Words are Ecco's to that Word was ever  
With God, was God; he can't endure to foul  
His fingers with the world; if fouled were never  
Never lin rubbing with his Fuller soap  
Till theyare more white than ever. where's th' man can hope?   

Whose hope can silence all his earthly wishes,  
Make them subscribe to heaven? Tell him ' f a Crown,  
Of Tempe's, Indies? He answers 'em with Pishes.  
But name but Jesus you'll see him straight bow down.  
But what? No fool's Cap, nor no Ass' knee;  
With's humbleed eye rebound to heaven will he.   

O where's the man that glories in his shame?  
Too many, 't's true, yet not enough, 't' as true;  
Millions that are a shame to God; but name  
The man that he's a shame for God. How few  
Who only wish that they may be, to be  
God's glory, though through greatest infamy.   

Where's he'll make godliness his only gain?  
Count so much got, as got of God? Account  
Him for his end, all else as means, refrain  
All pains, all gains that he sees not amount  
TO a thriving Sum of this; will live on Bread  
On Water; die, but he'll be here well fed.   

Thinkest thou deluded Worldling Christ is Thine?  
Bid'st Him good-morrow for all day, and then  
Hurriest to th' World, toil'st, moyl'st, when thy spirits decline  
If th'st breath enough, salute Him with god-den,  
Or once a week comest with thy Dog to visit  
His House, not Him, no nor His House, what is it?   

Poor souls! would my Tears Eye-bright water be  
Unto your blinded Eyes, how fast I'd weep!  
But godliness is such a mystery,  
As God t' All save His House unknown doth keep.  
Let thy Life say thou knowst this mystery,  
Or thy Presumption gives but God the lie.   

Cud'st once say thus, I'll ne'er endure this life.  
Go th' World, to''th' World; Not all day make a meal  
Upon a Promise? How faint I'm, I a wife  
Of such a husband? I o'th' Common weal  
Of Israel? Not seen my Love to day?  
No care o's ' Kingdom? then well hope I may.   

Nay where, in whom, when all ill sensuals meet,  
Hath Christ so cast in's heart that He can turn  
To wine His water, His bitter into sweet.  
where's He can sit and see his City burn  
While mounted on th' high Tower of his Salvation  
Warbles the Praises of his New Creation.   

Yet be no Nero neither, but from those Heights  
Looks and condoles poor souls can't sit and sing  
In Blood and Flames, keeps pauses with his sigthes,  
And time w'th's Tears, strikes flats on every string,  
Ecco's w'th's Voice, re-ecco's with his Heart,  
With Cyprus' face in mourning bears his part.   

Still glitters in his eye mild Majesty,  
Still's herd in's voice, the Lion and the Lamb,  
His heart still wrapped with heavenly mealody.  
'Tis God that justifies, who's he shall damn?  
Blessed man! Thus all, in's voice, in's looks, in's heart,  
Graces, sets off, completes his better part.   

Not that he's wanting in humanity,  
But that it hath gone to School to D'vinity,  
Where it hath learned when persecutions be  
Exceedingly to leap for joy, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  not that he  
Loves Men so little but loves God so much  
Not that his grief's small but his joy not such.   

Great love! great joy! how gracious and how wise  
Is our Lord God to let us s'int' tempt fall!  
So to commend his love, his power makes prize.  
Christ and His Christian's triumph over all.  
Thus live the just by Faith, thus let me live  
Come Antichrists, come devils I'll praises give!   

I fear not Rome nor Spain but the Armadas  
The Powder plots within, these n'otherwise  
But for to watch and fight, for all h's bravadoes  
I know my foe's but for my exercise  
Kill me he can't, and if he soarely wound  
sweet's my Gilead Balm, and I more sound.   

I'll keep my rank wherein my Lord of Hosts  
Hath placed me, so I'll be his Voluntary  
I'th' day of his Beauty's Armies, these unholy ghosts  
These Gods of flies Diables nothing care I.  
Wait on the Lord keep's way, thou shalt prevail  
See th' wicked cut off, yea the Beast his Tail.   

Yet it anger's me to see this trumpery  
When men must fain to go to''th' dancing school  
To compliment with heaven. Didst ever see  
An honour made by a Mistress Courting fool?  
Or hear 'em call for sides? so of the rest,  
Know one know both so 's dancing i' request.   

The case is altered since I learned to dance  
And strangely too, we're grown less spiritful  
And yet we're taught by th'brisker spirits of France,  
My honest English measures are too dull.  
French Currants, Spanish Pavins now they call  
For th' second part to th'same tune, nor here's all.   

Well be it so much money lost, I'll never  
Learn t' dance at this age, specially of those  
Who such a one lead as I can't see how ever  
A man can keep his feet upright, but goes  
Still'n danger of his neck, They may for me  
Who'd rather Egypt then Jerusalem see,   

The family is a little Church they say  
And so't should seem, here to's but compliment.  
Religion knows no bonds but form,  
Men pray twice, it may be read, indifferent well content  
Thus t'hear of God continually pray  
Who doth to hear Him see Him all the day?   

O where's the man whose life hath copied out  
Paul's Charity? but hence the tears the fears  
The scourge must overflow to fetch about  
Bring in our straggling hearts, no mar'll there appears  
Unholighosts to frighten us together  
Makes know whose children we are, 't's high time if ever.   

What shall I say? hast not Thou said enough  
To make us love thee Lord, love one another?  
I can't say more but pray, make smooth things ruff,  
Low high, straight crooked, that fitted each to other,  
We may so close be joined that we'll first break  
In flitters; though part in twain, be sound though weak.   

where's he hath done this, more than this, yet he  
Cries out undone. He only it is commends  
That Perfect Holiness, he only see  
That mercy's Rare. Only he the world transcends.  
Works us though nought were done, believes as all.  
Is nothing in himself, his Christ his All.   

O where's the man whose daily eager cry  
Is, Come Lord Jesus, quickly come, alas  
Shall we be strangers will? How long shall I  
Stand looking through the Lattice on a glass?  
Ne'er see thee face to face? O come, O When!  
Hast my beloved, haste, Amen, Amen.   

How long shall I thus up unto the chin  
I'th' Rivers of thy Right-hand pleasures stand,  
And yet but get a sip that doth begin  
The thirst that doth far deeper draughts demand.  
When drink my fill, when eat o'th' Tree of Life  
That is prepared for the Lamb his Wife?   

Still shall I stay? still? when this mixon quit?  
But th' ought'st thy generation serve, though crooked,  
Perverse. Lord make me wise, me fit  
For this thy service. Since I've undertaken it,  
My dearest surety for me undertake,  
Forsake me not who all for thee forsake.   

Teach me my due recesses from the throng  
Of straightening worldlings, how to live among  
While separate from them, how to show them heaven  
Myself beyond the reach of their deceiving.  
That like some Angel hover in the air  
My spirit may be the while my body's here,  
Relating th' passages of all my travels  
Through th' sweet Ourania crowned with pleasant marvels,  
That I might win their home bred hearts to try  
The Climates of so rare Discovery.    


FLy up wild Fire into the lofty Air,  
Burst into Stars, and with thy twinkling fair  
Allure admiring eves, make them believe  
Thou't turn the night to day ere thou wilt grieve;  
And with thy Crackling noise make such a thunder  
Thou't fright the fates themselves into a wonder  
 they shall touch thee, yet proud powder know  
Pure spirits are up when sulphury dust's below.  
And when thy flashie lightning, blazing snuff,  
Foole-cozening fire, robbed of its earthy stuff  
Shall die in noisome stench, my sun shall shine  
And show the difference of a joy divine.  
And though the mighty rushing winds of prayer  
Dispel not strait th' unkinder clouds, yet are  
They not the matter of my joy and there—  
fore not the end; yea should those glimpse cease  
Eft 'zounds I have, yet what a blessed peace  
Soft rest from that still gracious influence  
Of warmth and life, I feel my Sun dispense  
Into my humbled soul! Nay, were these gone,  
(Gone to my sense) and I desert like one  
Both in the dark and cold, yet I'll not grudge,  
And what a sweet is meekned hope? nor budge  
To fetch false fire and make myself a spark,  
Whose bed of ashes is all always dark.  
Fond griefe-borne man b' aspiring pride will fall  
To worse, and make his dark most dark of all.  
But still I keep my hold, not lose my hand  
For all the comforts round about me stand  
To 'tice my gripe, but I more catch my hold  
Where that glad safety I find that's uncontrolled  
Of all the world, and hug that joy within  
That by a stranger's eye was never seen,  
Nor hard removed; that true strong solid Faith,  
More sweet than all the senses feasted hath;  
Cu'd'st take a man with most delicious Cates  
His Palate feed, and with the daintiest baits  
Of beauty his eyes, his nostrils with the scents  
Of fragrant Eden, Ears wi'th ' instruments  
O' th'rarest consorts, his wantonizing flesh  
Wi'th ' softest dalliance; yet, this caitiff wretch  
'S but in a dream, and so too would he think  
If wise, who when he wakes is at the brink  
Of fatal plunges. But my joy is of  
Another kind. A generous joy and loath  
To borrow o'th' world since finds that store within  
That fills me most when most I've empty been.  
Here's that, that when my Oil seems almost gone  
O'erflows my neighbour's vessels with mine own.  
Here's that, that should my feet be ready slide  
Into the Wise man's Paradise doth guide;  
Cries, be thou ev'ry minute of the day  
In th' fear o'th' Lord, nor let thy envy stray  
To catch a tempting apple, paltry pleasure,  
A bladderd name, a rag of dunghill treasure.  
Men look to Ends, and beasts unto the present;  
Full Moons will wain and full will be the crescent,  
Thy crescent and ne'er wain. O here's a word  
How m'thinks it stillest silent'st whisper heard  
Through th'most tumultuous insurrection broils  
My flesh can make; sh' amidst these Coiles  
What high resolves I take, deep pleasure draw?  
While know my broils my spoils my grief my joy  
Shall multiply. In what a peace is He  
Whose mind is stayed on Thee great God He! He!  
O man of admirations! This is he  
'S in perfect peace although he cannot see  
Not say't himself. For what is that but a Stay?  
And where's that perfect but where's no decay?  
The root of joy is Peace, and Peace its nature  
Follower its ground; sound joy's only i'th' Creature  
he's in his Peace. As hast thou ever been  
Upon the Rolling Maine? conveyed within  
Some well trimmed Bark, and under decks wouldst doubt  
thou'rt not within because thou heard'st without  
The tumbling Billows beat against her sides  
While thy closed  from thyself thou hides;  
So is he In his Peace His Christ His Ark,  
Though winds, waves, tempests roar and he's i'th' darke.  
Blessed soul that rides to heaven on the world  
I'th' Bottom like a Mussel Shel is spurled  
ath' foot of pride. So dost thou spurled proud wretch  
Think as thou please, that buildest thyself a Catch  
O'th' own to swim upon the flattering calm  
Of sence-delight, and never fearest the storm  
Till findsed, and when thou seest the danger in,  
Thou thought'st not of, thy folly, than thou'lt swim  
From off thy broken vessel unto him  
To save thee from thy death though not thy sin  
The life of death. Mad soul! Thou'dst have him be  
Thy Saviour, but saved thou wouldst not be,  
But be enslaved unto thy deadly lusts  
The while for life on him thou madly trust'st.  
But know till thou hast learned the way to live  
In him; by, with him thou shalt never live.  
Till thou hast learned to do, be all in him  
Thy brightest light, thy livelyest joys shall dim  
Shall die, as not o'th' Sanctuarie's Fire  
That ne'er goes out, but that that dies i'th' ire.  
O'th' everlasting burn, know no fire  
Not zeal not spiritual joys themselves, but such  
As tine their Tapers by the faithful touch  
Of that celestial and unmixed flame  
Th' clear uncorrupted Light is still the same.    


What means (dear Friend) this lot-misliking moan?  
Who's not content with any's content with none.  
What had he who possessed the world alone  
But not his soul as not enough in one?  
What had he not, wh' had not where t' lay his head  
But in his father's bosom made his bed?  
The way to true content it's but one, that hit  
Strait leads thee to the Presence where there sit  
Millions of smiling graces that embrace  
Thee in their welcome arms glanced from the face  
Whose every beam raines golden showers of love  
Upon thy sugared soul i'th' floods of love  
Melts and's exhaled unto those Thrones above  
Where all thy Trials but thy Trophies prove.  
Cheer up blest heart who tremblest at his word  
Hath promised he'll look to thee, nurse thee, afford  
Thee what he's able, and wouldst have more?  
He cannot then be rich if thou art poor.  
he'll not good thing withhold, and wouldst have bad?  
'Twere better fare thou cu'd'st be poor then mad.  
he's only poor whom God doth hate, but he  
Hates only them that love themselves, but ye  
That loathe leave all for him but crave  
A hundred fold more such in him and have.  
he's infinite he's nothing more too scant  
To help ten thousand great then one small want.  
he'd first create another world for his  
 they should want a Pointile of their bliss.  
But earth and heaven and all I cyphers call,  
The number's only one, who makes is all.  
He ne'er enjoys the world that makesed his joy,  
He e'er injoyesed that makes it his annoy,  
Such difference makes hope and fear to part  
With what he spurns at's heel he lays to's heart.  
Whence had he keeped t'had never gone toth'quick  
When plucked away, nor left him sorrow-sicke  
Whose comfort lives on healthier principles.  
Substracted crutches, Cripples only Cripples,  
At th'best 'tis childish not to go alone,  
But grow in knowledge of that All in-one  
And that shall make thee grow in strengthening grace  
That makes foul way to mend they homeward place.  
A Naball seated in's sufficiency  
Is still i'th' creatures stocks, when Job can fly  
His heaven-free circuits in's proverbial needs  
And fetch the self-sufficiency exceeds  
The gain of worlds on worlds and makes him bless  
His God for th'endless wealth of godliness.  
there's nothing that's without can bless or curse  
Says the Philos'pher, and shall we be worse,  
We Philochrists? who if he be within  
And we in him, all wi'thout's not worth a pin.  
Fling, fling away the world when he shall bid  
You'll sweeter taste those sweeter Cates he hide  
For's hidden ones before the world was made,  
And whereupon they feast when it shall fade.  
Or could thy heedy faith as clearly espy  
His wiser hand withdrawing thy pelf as I  
The hand that draws these lines, how cu'd'st thou cry  
But Hallelujah to the God on high!  
Who is, thence doth, onl' good; long then to learn  
Obedience unto what thou shalt discern  
Appointed by him. So make the smallest cross  
Crown thee a Martyr while thy thankful loss  
Shall witness what a powerful God he is  
Glads thee with that from whence thy sorrow rise;  
Bids thee for nothing care but how to care  
For nothing, by thy praise-requesting prayer  
To see to sing what rare what plenteous fare,  
What store of all select delights there are  
In this thy Pallace-Castle-Christ secured  
For ever; thus in thy boundless bounds immured  
Abide, view round about thee, Mercies stand  
Above, below, b'fore, b'hinde, on either hand,  
Compassed with mercy as a fiery brickwall,  
But tried, refined to thee comes nought of all,  
Conspire then treacherous world with that below,  
And what? Come make us sport to see ye so  
Ridiculously foolish to attempt  
To force the Fort so far from force exempt.  
So shall thy understanding passing peace  
Guard th'understanding heart, whose joys increase  
By opposition, while th'experience knows  
The freedom from i'th'benefit by blows.  
Six troubles and seven m'assault with thundering bands  
But still their ill at th'greatest distance stands.  
Nay, act thy faith in Heaven for all thou want'st  
In earth, and be as troubled as thou canst.  
Be steady, , if thou'lt approve  
By always abounding works thy trust above;  
Hast seen the palsy hand how'ts shaking sinews  
Bungle at its work it often discontinues  
And slowly rids away while mars th'little part  
It does. So th'fear-grief-care-disturbed heart.  
All things cooperate thy good? How darest  
Deny't? How darest affirm it while thou scarest  
Thyself with thine own shadow fond cast  
O'th' love shines clearest when the Cloud is passed  
The Cloudy world (the clear quicksighted soul  
Transpeirces, vvhened detains the dully foul)  
And thus me thinks afflictions makes us sing  
How good! How good they are, while they re-bring  
Our straggling hearts to more demeuring views  
Of him whom we cause he us first did choose.  
And thus by them his holiness partake  
When disincumbred frequenter we make  
Immediater approaches, so to limb  
Us form and feature more his own, and trim  
'S more accurately to him while more see  
Him as he is, the world as it is, Vanity  
Of all except vexation and thereof  
Full in its serled'st state, and are we lo'th  
To be unmanicled to have our hand  
Strengthened to hold truth more of Christ while stand  
Happily ' nfetterd in these freeing Cords  
That make our erst enslaved affections Lords,  
Where closer kept in perfect liberty,  
(Imperfect only in that 'tshall closer be)  
he'll point out our misprisions and give  
Instructions how we may more like him live.  
How good! 'Twould make thee covet poverty,  
And be ambitious of disgrace, and flee  
Upon the wrack presented by thy God,  
Wouldst thou believe that glorious abode  
O'th' spirit of spirits— What is thy state  
If once with all our States and Lives thou weigh it?  
I knew a man (the moon hath twelve times since  
And only twelve by quarterly dissents  
Lighted the winking world t'see how't becling  
Th' inconstancy of sublunary things  
This man) whose Age stood i'th' midst of all  
The earth's temptations while they roundly fall  
About his neck to steal his heart with kisses  
Down to''th' infernal Chambers, forearmed withblisses  
Of never failing proof where ere they cover  
Marches where that sweet Dove is used to hover  
Upon his God exploring head, that sought  
Him in the Garden, and embracing caught  
Him in his walking voice, that i'the fresh  
O'th' day wont there to meet him, and express  
Fare fresher loves. When suddenly he tears  
A dismal crack invade his quiet ears.  
As when some mighty Structure crazed with years  
And reparations negligences bears  
'Ts decrepit limbs upon its friendly props,  
Who straight deceived of the ground that drops  
From under them, not o'er sound no little part  
Themselves, forced from their tottering Charge they start  
Asunder from their close conjunction. Now,  
Now All's going, her massy body bows  
Her longue-time-drooping now quite falling head  
O'th' weaker Air that overburdened  
Finds strength enough to lift her doleful voice  
Unto the lofty skies, seemed to rejoice  
By their clear cheerie countenance that they  
Were so fare distant from so shroud a fray.  
But still the loud mouthed Air not able bear  
Th' oppression, fumes in a furious rage and tears  
Her deadly throat with envious exclamation  
To rend the resty ears o'th' drowsy Nation,  
Whose feeble Portals too too weak to stand  
So hard a stress, fly up before the grand  
Tumultuous noise attended with its Troops  
Of hideous fears, t'whom straight their spirit stoops  
With yielding slavery while they represent  
Them spectacles as Potent to torment.  
See Cities broiling in their bloody flames  
And choked in sweltering smoke, the mincing dames  
Their fashion-brooding brains dashed on the street  
They thought too base a pavement for their feet,  
The cankered Usurer hugging o'the bags  
Betray his Life, the fine-mouthed Wanton drags  
Some poisonous carrion from a loathsome hole  
For his restorative, and now there's nothing stole  
That's felony, nor slaughter's murder to  
Those diule-inspired Pontificians, who  
With more than Savage cruelty make death laugh  
IT self fat with'fleshed devours the blood it quaffs  
In full Carouses from the Parricide hands  
Of Hell-sprung Catilines, whose Rome-bred Bands  
Armed with Hierarquique powers make sculls their Cups  
Bouse of their Rounds to fate and wallow up  
To th' reaking knees in vast Acheldamas,  
Thus and beyond Thus in a thousand ways  
That grim-faced Monster shaken his angry dart  
Against the fearing, but God fearing heart,  
Rose in undaunted courage to that height  
That Nature ne'er can bear, advanced by th'sight  
O'th' Beauty in that breach, the Music in  
That Crack, that veiled beauty that was seen  
More fair through black, that Music that  
Was heard more sweet through waters, that begat  
That well composed temper in his heart  
So fixedly prepared no force might part  
It from 't's Elshaddai, by whose blissful name  
IT was so enlivened with transporting flames,  
So man'd with Heaven-animated spirits,  
So carried forth with brave resolves, it demerits  
Some Angel's Pencil to describe the joy  
Intranc'd the soul, who while on All it saw  
This Motto, There's no evil but the Lord  
Hath done't, full nimbly aptly sweetly accords,  
The will o'th'Lord be done, for He can do  
Nothing but Good, but very Good. And who  
Whose heart's inflamed with Thy Great Love Great Go  
Can say that any thing Thou dost is odd  
Who's he shall teach thee wisdom? Canst thou draw  
The Heavens out like a Curtain, give a Law  
To th'Earth to hang on nothing? Who shall lend  
Him bowels that steers our hearts? Or who extend  
His goodness unto Him? Shall th'fountain come  
To drink o'th' streams? Shall I be called to sum  
MY account to Thee? Thou scan my Poesy  
On thy crooked fingers? Ar'nt my ways even? Thy  
First framings of thy thoughts wholly perverse,  
And that continually, and thou redress.  
Thou make thy Maker? Or was I so o'er taken  
Like some unwary Father, who hath forsaken  
His goods, to live at's Sons provision, or  
Hast thou them of thyself, and dost abhor  
To be beholding unto me? Behold the man  
'S becomes own God himself, and scorns to stand  
TO our pleasure, but to thy dust proud dust, go drudge  
About thy Thorny Earth, learn hence not t' grudge  
Me my prerogative, and if thou dost  
Deal proudly still, still I'll be uppermost.  
But are my do all good? whence then this mutter?  
Ar'nt they? Show me my Master, let him utter  
His skill, Come Mushroom, thou of yesterday,  
Come teach the Ancient of days to sway  
His Sceptre. Or what milder sounds th' attempts  
That quarrel'st at his prudent Regiment.  
Who's not a truly-throughly-humble man,  
he's but a practical Arminian.  
Hadst but thou well studied his revealed will,  
And prayed thee to'ts persuasion, wu'ded not still  
Thy murmuring at the losing of a Straw  
Who hadst digested that Eternal Law  
Of pretermission and receipt to grace?  
Would this in all thy Topics find no place  
More than the proud Pelagian will see  
Even so my Father 'cause it pleased thee,  
What? shall the child in its balbutient age  
Instruct the Father? or what more can engage  
Me to content then, 'tis my Father's pleasure,  
In whose contentment 's lain up all my treasure  
Of joy and bliss; But th'want o'th'laying th'foundation  
Well, and well building on't makes all th'mutation  
So oft befall us, else might we steady stand  
Upright unshaken moved on neither hand.  
God is my Diapason, rise or fall,  
Above all, through all, the ground of all.  
And so he is to All his works, but they  
Can hear no concord's that will disobey;  
But we that put ourselves into his hand  
Obedient instr'ments of his just command.  
Who with his crosse-division running art  
Gives such mysterious pleasure to the heart  
Of is understanding ones, a stranger can't  
Conceive, whose judgement's too too rude, too scant  
To compass such an odd variety  
Into a sweeter-sounding unity.  
Nor sees th'decorum, now with smarter strokes  
Of 'tis valour excitating tones provokes  
Our roused spirits unto Martial feats,  
To quiet combats with the enemy's threats.  
Now w'th soft retreating recollects them by it  
'S remisser touches to a watchful quiet.  
Strike hard, or gently stroke, this know we still  
We're th'better music of his graceful skill.  
Prosperity's a Trial too, and he that uses  
IT not in that notion exceedingly abuses  
Himself and it, and never sooner loses  
His every-way ensnared soul then when he chooses  
It not as pleasing God, but him, refuses  
Adversity not because his mind induces  
Him t'think it's not thought good of God, but he  
Would ever prosperous never afflicted be.  
And wouldst thou so? know every state's a trial,  
And all prosperity lies in self-denial.  
While thou surrounded with the confluence  
Of all the earth's indearements that presents  
Thee with its goodliest heart-alluring'st offers  
Tak'st them as not ta'en of them, daily proffer'st  
A glad resignment, having learned the art  
To have thy Food-indeed e'er hungering heart  
More filled with Heaven then thy hands with Earth.  
Countest Myriad of Worlds a starving dearth  
Till Him thou seest in All, gets Him through All,  
Above all livest with Him, 's in, through, 'bove, all.  
O such a man? this man of Millions he  
'S well bottomed bears so well so high degree?  
Be rooted, grounded, established in the Faith,  
So mayst thou rear that superstructure hath  
A winde-and-storme-out-facing firmitude,  
Whose Capstone should be constant gratitude,  
Whose corner stone is Christ; whom while we see  
How can we unchearefull, how unthankful be?  
In every thing give thanks, 'cause every thing  
Brings good to us 'cause glory to him brings;  
This is the will of God. Sweet will! The will  
Of God concerning me? What me? What still  
More sweetness! What am I that I should be  
To be the subject of such Majesty!  
That thou shouldst once bestow a thought on me!  
But such a, such a thought concerning me  
In Christ? In Him even now translate into  
The Kingdom of thy dearest Son might view  
My Cross triumphed o'er by a patiented and  
Long suffering joy, while strengthened, strengthened stand  
With might, all might, according to his power,  
His glorious power, doth all things overpower.  
O'th' joy! the joy! the overflowing joy  
Tides on the Heaven-ward soul wherein the Law  
Of comforts God's a hidden spring, delights  
The inward man, whose chief, whose sole delight's  
To be the subject of Gods will; a joy  
Whose boundless inundations can destroy  
And bear before it like a wisp of Straw  
The hugest oppositions sad'st annoy  
That Earth and Hell can raise; a joy redoubles  
't's augmented forces by'ts increasing troubles.  
The while he makes the more retired repairs  
Unto h's entowring Name, views th' Legions there  
Attend him, how heavens soldiers flock about  
Him with their proffered service, and his doubts  
Fly far away the while he's more intent  
To th' secrets of his heart, more represent  
Him purity, integrity, simplicity,  
Sincerity, truth, th'face of God, whereby  
H's inlargedly spirited with joyful love  
IT dares wrestle a fall with death, and longs to prove  
The mastery, and like some mighty Giant filled  
With generous Wines, speeds sprightly to the field  
Of high exploits, that th'world and he might see  
Th'o'erpow'ring arm of Al-sufficiency,  
What wonders it acts in feeble flesh; a joy  
That can the most bloodsucking sorrow cloy  
With superabundant sweetnesses, a joy  
Sings nothing sweeter than its wished envoy  
Unto the world, a joy whose skill is shown  
‛ N extracting marrow from the driest bone,  
A joy of that extended pure delight,  
‛ I's impossible the heart b' in such a plight  
Shut up in selfish, ridgid, austere constriction,  
No't can be hard while such a blessed affection  
Dissolves it all in pity, draws, pours it out  
In streams of meek compassions run about  
On every side with heedy tenderness,  
To see what ways of succouring redress  
IT may find, while still it makes this gentleness prove  
More flaming oil to its Seraphic Love.  
Thus, thus anoint with this Celestial joy  
Diffuses weighty spirits, and employs  
MY in such a sadness t' which all th' rest is madness.  
A grave confulting serious sober sadness  
consists with, is the Basis of, true gladness,  
IT which all other's  but a merry madness.  
A joy's no light slight frothy vapouring bubble  
That disappears at th'softliest-blasting trouble;  
But a perspicuous solidity,  
Transplendent firmness, agile stability.  
Thus kindly may the influented Art  
Of that bright morning Star that rules this heart  
Temper thee to itself, and warm thy soul  
With spirits may raise th' above the world's control.  
'Tis not thy Music, Stories, Company  
Thy forced ungenuin mirth can remedy  
Thy wound, no it's but a palliated cure,  
IT will fester more and thou wilt less endure  
't's returning smart, but leave this Mountebank trick  
And search tothth' core; better once be throughly sick  
Then never truly well. Out with this odd  
This peevish humour that oppugnes thy God  
His sacred will, for then and not till than  
Thou't say to all his works a glad Amen.  
'Tis only this our inconformity  
'S the cause of all our sin and misery.  
And wouldst thou not conform didst firmly believe  
Him all good, thou all bad? but hence we grieve  
Fond souls the griefs must be grieved over again  
Cause our weak faith this maxim can't maintain.  
How can we be in our repining mood  
But in our heart we say he is not good?  
No, no, it's not, it's not, so easy a thing  
To b'leeve him good; for whether would it not bring  
Us duly, truly creedited? keep then to this  
Say God is good, for that is all our bliss;  
Our bliss is all in Christ, by whom alone  
The self denying soul God good hath known.  
Work, wait, pray, praise, This part's thine, God's the rest,  
'Tis daring sacrilege to be unblessed;  
God's glory's robbed, ere thine own good; but pray  
Thy Will be done, let thankful patience pray;  
Blessed man how ever; There's nothing comes amiss  
Tothth' man hath ta'en the will of God for his.  
Is now no more himself is ruled by  
Another soul his sole felicity.  
What's Heaven if not a seeing face to face  
Sung heart to heart! were here that full seen grace  
Sung to a perfect harmony of wills  
We might on Earth of Heaven take our fills.  
Blessed God hath given us such an Heavenly Brother  
To tune us all to Thee and each to other.  
O what a consort's here! but ah where find  
I two or three strike Unisons in mind?  
Yet were they thirds, fifts, eights, yet unity  
Runs sweetly through with a sweet Symphony.  
There's one blest One i'th' midst, who where he is  
In turning all to One, turns all to bliss.  
One! reconciled! One! Smpathy! agree!  
How full's my soul with heavenly melody?  
What's sin, shame, grief, what whatsoever's bad  
But discord from the good the God we had?  
What else th' all-sinning sin? this Tree I will  
A sign of Sovereignty I will not.  
Hell! Hell! but what th' all-saving grace? come do  
Come suffer m'will; thy will? I come I do.  
Heaven! Heaven! How harsh'n answ'r t'a sweet injunction!  
How sweet an answer to so harsh a function.  
Thus fin-and-sorrow follow self-willed pride,  
And grace-and-peace the self that is denied.  
To will thy will's the sole humility  
Wherein thou dwellest, and that's in Heaven to be.  
How sweet a Heaven's the heart! still say it would  
It is my God do he what seems him good.  
Here's a belov'd sweet singing Israel  
Whose heart's full set to God's, consent's as well  
In all notes as in one; and if he strike  
A jar, jars with himself till strikes alike.  
And that's a jar that plays a pleasant moan  
I'th'eares of Heaven, and therefore in his own.  
What to give Grace and Glory, but to give  
According to thy sacred will to live?  
What is't to be in Hell? To be at odds,  
Men with themselves, friends, neighbours, devils, God's;  
Cursing the cause of this their sad descent  
From th' just inflicter of their punishment.  
Gnashing their teeth for envy at the thought  
Of that Salvation Reconcilement brought.  
Thou only blest in being only One,  
Make us to be One spirit with thine own,  
And so with one another: ere may I be  
With them thee fear, they fear to disagree.  
What was our blessers dying blessing? His prayer  
We might be One as He and's Father are.  
O were I, were I able to unfold  
The riches that one syllable doth hold.  
There's only One thing that is necessary.  
Met we all there, how cu'd we thus contrary?  
One body, one spirit, one hope, one faith, one Lord,  
Baptim, God, Father, so many Ones afford  
Their help to keep all One, and yet how few  
Whose boisterous spirits will not bustle throw  
Soft peace's bounds, so lewse lose unity?  
For none but humble-candid-wise agree.  
But proud-contentious-fooles will ne'er agree  
Nor with themselves, nor others, nor with Thee.  
Their friendship's but dissembled enmity  
Unto th'r own souls, Thee, all, since not agree  
In Christ; they're not at peace wi'th ' very stones  
O'th' field; the whole Creation groans  
Under this universal enmity  
It feels by man his parting friends with Thee.  
Now this Commune Vinculum is broke,  
All flies in pieces, and we do but cloak  
Our differences, if not seem to be  
Each for himself, and then what friends we be?  
How now afraid of injury from each other,  
Shrink up ourselves into ourselves, and smother  
At least our mutual hatred, and not discover  
The depths of malice that our hearts do cover,  
Stored up against th'all-good all-powrefull  
God, while self-wills, and fond desires would pull  
The Crown from off his head, so 'gainst ourselves.  
Who love, they hate, who hate, they love themselves.  
But whether are we brought by this sad breach,  
Or what was't brought it but our selfish reach.  
Or what can bind it up but only He  
In whom alone we reconciled be;  
That bundle o'life b'whom His are gathered in  
To One, to never part their hearts again.  
Dear Saviour! Could we pattern lowly Thee,  
How willing to our Farhers' will we'd be!  
Blessed Love that spiest so rare a policy  
Th'atheistic Florentine cu'd ne'er descry.  
Stand soul this ground, while Heaven can provide  
Himself of joy, thy joy must needs abide.  
Let him have all, have all, though I get none,  
My joy's my Gods content, and not my own:  
Thou canst not Lord displease me, 'nlesse thou wilt  
Displease thyself, for I will what thou wilt.  
Take, take thee all dear Lord, though I get none,  
My joy's my Gods content, and so my own.  
(So will the wilfull'st, but passive instruments they,  
But of thy grace we actively obey)  
My care's to please my husband, so myself,  
He that so loves so foolish fond an else  
Would undo all again to put in self  
Though taught so well in him t'enjoy itself.  
Th' issue? I nor know nor care, 't's my bliss  
His pleasure's mine and my displeasure's his;  
He bears our burden we enjoy his yoke,  
He wears our Thorns that hath our Thrones bespoke.  
O cu'd we ever keep us at this pitch  
What an untroubled life we'd lead! how rich  
In all contents! nor would there need descents  
To lower arguments that can't dispense  
Us solid true substantial comfort till  
We're raised to sing, it is our God his will.  
The great'st content is none whose grounds not this,  
Th' great'st discontent's swallowed up in this vast bliss;  
That bears the soul in an unstopped stream  
Of mighty force to''th' pleasure o'th' Suprearme.  
The strength of all obedience is this,  
It is his will, and not, it is my bliss.  
The man that's not alive, can he be strong?  
'Tis Love's the life of God; bears all along  
With speed, with ease, the Council ta'en word given,  
No parley's with the flesh, On, on's strait driven  
With conquering flames, and if his blood shall rise,  
he'll lose his blood e'er he'll his God despise.  
What challenge won't he take? what frowns, what blows?  
What death's on deaths? who such a Guerdon knows  
Awaits his certain victory? such a Beauty  
As cheers him to and clears him through his duty,  
Whose thence infused vigour fears nothing more  
Than want of dangert' make the world adore  
Those Heart'ning Splendours that in every Ray  
Th' all conquering strength o'th' Deity convey.  
With what Luxuriances the turgent soul  
'S borne up beyond the world and hell's control!  
O how it longs it longs to be employed  
I'th' greatest work the greater love's enjoyed.  
Howed runs at half a word! how't marks the lips,  
And hears before they speak! away it trip  
With speedy diligence and cannot stay  
Though th' thrungin'st pressing'st diff'culties beats it way  
Snaps off the strongest cords like rotten threads,  
Dissects the massiest bars in shivering shreds,  
And drives before it all the joined force  
O'th' mighti'st obstacles oppugn its course  
And if it feel the least repulse returns  
With thrice-redoubled courageous onsets, burns  
With spirit-incensing indignation to  
Be stopped in aught that for his Christ he'd do.   

The man's in love. The man's in love  
Whose reason's in his Mistress ' will;  
This th' Primum Mobile doth move  
His mind her madness to fulfil.   

The man's in love, and loves with skill  
Whose reason's in his Master's will.  
The man is mad, her will's no reason.  
The man's wise, Reason is his Will.  
The man's a Rebel, his love is Treason.  
Loyal he whose love His Law fulfils.   

he's wise that knows it, he knows that loves it.  
He loves, that doth, it; He doth, that loves, it.    


PUrities foes swell like a tottering wall,  
Threatening whole Kingdoms with their shaking fall;  
But they proud fools are sure to have the worst,  
Our shaking settles us, they fall and burst.  
Courage my hearts, the joy of God's our strength,  
Then joy we most when most 've need of strength.  
Courage my hearts, what shall such men as we?  
Such men as we, shall we once think to flee?  
Conquerors of Mell and shrink before a fly?  
Sons of the everliving God and fear to die?  
Nor is it death, 'tis but the end of death,  
Our life's our death, our death 'tis gives us breath;  
Unprisoned once ever in the open air  
Perfused with spirits by a spirit so rare,  
Pure, simple, life! O that we once were not  
That we might be. Courage my hearts, 'tis but  
This wall of mud that us and heaven parts.  
So ne'er our Centre and so slow our hearts?  
No holy efforts? Let th' unfaithful know  
Their valour's cowardice to that we show.  
Laugh death i'th' face, and shout at his Alarms,  
Embrace him, kiss him, leap into his arms,  
he's a nimble messenger will quickly bear us,  
Where unconceived endless joys shall cheer us.  
'S th' word given? Sa, Sa sa sa sa brave hearts  
't's this wall of mud that us and heaven parts.  
The wicked is God's hand, there Sword his Lancet  
Pricks our importuned soul and so advance it.  
Which cu'd we as fully espy as when we see  
The Chirurgeon breathe a vein, how glad we'd be  
T'come under th'cure of such a skilful hand  
Translates us with a touch to th'holy Land.  
Fear not he bids, he's with us; now see I  
Our souls on Angels wings surmount the sky.  
Come let's ascend our Thrones, against our Judges  
Sat with our Judge, while th'gnashtheir teeth with grudges.  
Wee'z see them naked trembling at our sight  
Divest of stolen Honours, borrowed might.  
Hear them implore the Mountains, come & end them  
But shan't so ward the blows, our mouths shall send them.  
They shall not  escape; and who can tell  
How soon the quiet of the Land may dwell  
In homes as quiet as their souls? who knows  
But we may get even this day of our foes.  
Th're many, cunning, false, strong, watch, malicious;  
He's One, wise, true, ne'er slumbering strength, propitious.  
And shall th'e'er-waking Judah's Lion wake  
And rouse his heart-dead-striking head, he'll take  
he'll touse them in his teeth like baffling whelps  
And shake them into Atoms. None there's helps  
From his own ceasing straight dismembering paw  
Of all contemners of his Gospell-Law.  
Come let the Spirits mighty rushing wind  
Dispel those clouds from the corrupted mind  
The muddy grounds of humane brains exhaled  
By that false Lucifer, at length b'unvailed  
That beauteous Light of Truth, at length Traditions  
Damned with the Man of Sin, Son of Perdition.  
Let's clear our passage t'immateriat joy  
From these materiate obstructions cloy  
The Subtle veins of Sin-refined souls  
And in the sense the Spirits sweets withholds.  
Come let's unstoppe the Conduit pipes of Grace  
From mud and trash, the sullied glass the face  
Of Christ that shows, let's clear, let's clear our way  
Through Antichrists to Christ, work, wait, praise, pray.  
Hold up prevailing hands in praying action  
'Gainst Babylon, and the Babylonish faction.  
Let God arise display his glorious rays,  
Dispel the infernal mists, obscure his praise,  
Undraw the Curtains intercept his face,  
Precipitate each Judah's to his place  
Betrays him with a Ceremonious kiss;  
Their Bishoprics be others Benefice;  
Cloth him with Purple, cry hail King, bow th'knee,  
Yet spit, yet smite, yet nail him to the Tree.  
Base spirits can hold and see him so blasphemed,  
Not take his part by who 've been redeemed.  
Courage my hearts, than courage to observe  
All's written in his Law, on, no hand swerve.  
Help us to help thee Lord against their might;  
In thy Pavilion hide's and let them fight.  
I'th' secret of thy presence lead thy Lambs  
In gentle safe conveyance, from the hands,  
Pride-cruell hands of men of bloods, then damn,  
Then damnify men-devils if you can.  
Die, live we are the Lords, are in our way,  
Now bear the Cross, shall wear the Crown That day.  
Nay th' Cross is boar'n the shame despised, and we  
Are glorious in the greatest infamy:  
The Cross is boar'n the fear despised, and we  
May, must exult i'th' daringest jeopardy.  
The Cross is boar'n the grief despised, and we  
Are Crowned with Heaven i'th' Crossing'st misery.    


What ails me thus this morning? why so dull?  
The flesh? the flesh? my life even in the flesh  
'S by th'faith o'th' Son of God: O were I full  
Of this, I'd walk, I'd run, I'd fly afresh.  
Nor faint, nor wearies God, nor I I know  
Shall be (but reap) for as he's, I am so.   

Up Eagle-winged faith! up, remount thy mount  
Of Prayer, mount of Transfiguration:  
Still in this veil of Tears? Still shall I count  
The tedious hours of this sad alteration.  
Still buffeted? Thorns still? Lord perfect then  
Thy strength in weakness, thy glory's mine, Amen.    


HAd I the faith, I could do all things, cu'd  
Turn earth to water, water into air,  
Air into fire; from melancholy would  
Extract a fluent mildness, from that rear  
Spiritual breathe, and they would soon take fire  
And bear my soul unto its high desire.   

So may my faith not only go beyond  
My sense, but go against it, and beyond.  
Not only lead my joys above the earth,  
But make my sorrows vanish into mirth.  
't's an infant faith that must be handed on  
By th'worlds supports, and a decrepit one  
That stoops unto the ground, and cannot go  
Without th'upholdings of these Reeds below.  
But mine's more aged, and should the stronger grow  
Int's oldest years. So make me Lord to go  
From strength to strength, I may go all alone,  
When but thy Hand, Word, Spirit, help I've none.  
When but this help! What? Make a But of That  
Which made the world, that all-sufficient That?  
What have I'n Heaven but Thee, in all the Earth  
But Thee? My Heaven, my Earth, my All? what mirth  
Can all the world possessed afford me'if Thou  
Art wanting? But Jehovah present, how  
Can Worlds, can Hells once move m'with all their ill,  
Who have the God that All things hath at will?  
When thou that mad'st the Sun to shine on all,  
Shalt make th' world's favours round about me fall,  
Should I salute thee with a cheerful thanks  
That may be mine and not thy Spirits thanks.  
The very Ethnics, don't they do the same?  
I nothing singular that bear thy Name?  
Who sittest i'th' heavens fare above all fears,  
When all the world's together by the ears,  
thou'rt still thyself Happy Happiness  
When all the world blasphemes as when they bless;  
Oh could I keep my proper place with thee  
How fare above the daringest Ill's I'd be.  
I'd play with flames exsult at th' thoughts of death,  
And make my troubles keep my i'th' better breath;  
I'd dance upon a dunghill, sing in fire,  
I'd make a bed of Roses on a briar,  
I'd teach my tears to smile, my sighs to laugh,  
My pains to sport, I'd make thy rod my staff.  
Would teach me this dear Lord, teach teach m'excell;  
To be in heaven while I am in hell:  
For so was Christ and he and we are Christ,  
Be then my dust below I'll be at th' highest.  
What ayl's the liveless corpse whose soul's in heaven  
My soul's soul's thou, is thou my soul in heaven.  
Heaven is thy arms thy everlasting arms  
Be they still under where's the hell me harms.  
Let blustering winds and rattling tempests beat  
About m'assaulted ears with threats on threats  
O'th' terriblest storms, while I inhoused lie  
Imbedded in his Alisufficiencie;  
And gather up my soul the closer in  
To his inwrapping comforts, while I sing  
And they me rock i'th' faster sweeter sleep  
Of praising rest i'th' arms alone shall keep  
MY in safety, maugre all the enemies  
I'th' maddest, forciblest fury; while th'world lies  
I'th' arms o'th' airy Prince, who hath the skill  
To make fair weather, where he means to kill.    


ANd have I Lord so often wished to die,  
And yet I cannot live? Have I so lost  
My soul for thee, yet find it cannot I?  
Well, still thou'rt good how ever I be crossed,  
Still will I wish, and wish it with mine heart,  
Subvert me Lord, or make me more convert.   

What shall I die alive? shall I survive  
Myself? Shall I endure this life of pleasure?  
Not I pray day and night? How do I thrive?  
Where are the precious sheaves, the hidden treasure?  
Where is my livelihood, my liveliness?  
Well, yet I have them 'cause I so confess.   

A word soon said, but truly but of those  
Whose bleeding-carefull-zealous heart it knows.    


Work on my love, spare not thy pains, 'tis good,  
't's a kindly heat, and sweat, what art a dry?  
Hungry with exercise? take for thy food  
My Flesh, my Blood thy thirst shall satisfy.  
Work on, these putrid humours still transpire;  
Fresh, pure, sound, by these Alteratives acquire.   

I hunger Lord, thirst for thy Righteousness,  
My zeal doth so consume me, I must have  
More food, or faint, much less can work afresh.  
Hast no wine t' spare? no Milk? no Hony? I crave  
For strength, not lust, not for myself but thee;  
That by much strength, much honoured thou may'st be.   

Be they but crumbs, yet be th' o'th' children's bread;  
Be they but drops, yet be the ' Salvations Well,  
Even those can make a dog a dog that's dead  
A living man, these greater wonders tell.  
O had I but the bucket it get a sup?  
How soon unto th'spring head it would mount me up?   

Here will I draw, engage here all my strength,  
Tug, pull again, and yet again, and yet  
I'll not give over, it will come I know at length,  
It's very air my hope, that will not let  
Me faint, but when it comes, and I get a drink,  
You that have felt those joys, what theyare may think.   

Lightened, inlivned, enlarged, extolled, transport  
Beyond myself unto myself resort.  
I see I see, O when shall I once account  
Myself framed to this pattern i'the mount.  
Unto my Lord dear Lord make me  
So like, that who sees me may see  
Him drawn to th' very life, each feature  
Each lineament, thus a new creature.    


I Am the fountain and I purpose through  
These neighbouring intermixed Channels to  
Convey myself to each, he who'll not part  
His interposing earth, let out his heart,  
Reciprocate the freshning streams I send,  
May stand, stink, dry, not borrow who'll not lend.  
They're Idiots indeed who h've private spirits, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.   
But who is not himself he only merits  
Not to be counted mad, and so sought he  
Us not himself in whom made wise we be.  
We're not our own, we're purchased with a prize  
To live no more t' ourselves, but now to rise  
To higher things to live beyond ourselves  
In, By, To Him who bought's, brought's off the shelves '  
‛ F so great a death to bring us of ourselves  
Our greatest death; when selfe-besotted Elves  
Were we dissolved in the open Maine  
What spacious liberty were gotten to refrain  
Th' land bordering Rocks? O would the righteous Sun  
Look on our frozen hearts, how fast they'd run  
Their hardened self contracted clods (so oft  
Dash one against another) into soft  
To giving enlarged streams would friendly close  
Themselves? would quickly in each other lose  
And all with sweet concurrence nimbly flow  
To their embracing Ocean. O would we so  
Change each to other till we each were none  
With what advantage should we be our own?  
For one have all, thus happily unite  
Are grown too strong for th' world for hell's despite  
We be all disjoined by our fall, but set  
In one again the greater strength we get.  
What I lay out in prayers purse, study pains  
For them with how fare multiplied gains  
Of quick returns I find them all in theirs.  
Should I as I should not be overwhelmed with tears,  
Fears griefs grow weak and feeble, or as I should  
Be always poor and needy in spirit how good  
How good it is to know that he who is  
In all my thoughts hath me in his,  
Who is more beneficial by one thought then all  
The world can be by all their deeds. I fall  
No sooner now but straight one helps me rise.  
So far's two better in one, how raised how high's  
My drooping soul? though absent in the body  
Present i'th' spirit with all the spiritual body.  
How hearty I joy in, sweetly enjoy  
Their better ordered more established joy!  
MY affections are not mine nor theirs are theirs  
But each in th' other's mirth and sorrows shares.  
How steady stand in ballanceed griefs and joys  
While others still supply fresh counter poises?  
I live not in myself but them-and-thee;  
Live thou and they, and that's enough for me.  
I live not in myself but them-and-thee;  
Live thou and they, I needs must living be.  
And if all comforts God-and-h's Saints comprises  
All comfort then from one another riseth.  
Conspire we then in one, in one expire,  
That makes his melting Saints a mounting fire.  
'Tis good being here, and hither rise might all  
Wh'have skill have will int' one and other t'fall.   

But he that will be of himself  
May glut not glad himself with pelf.  
Yea let him laugh his belly full,  
Yet doth the shark himself but gull;  
His seeming sweet straight turns to gall,  
And vomits straight his stolen all,  
His Done joy's cooled by and by  
With real ills in Fieri.   

But stay, all this is but to seek myself  
While I am studying how to lose it, I  
Must fly a braver pitch, far far more high  
Above the thoughts of all this selfish pelf.    

ACtion is the life of a Christian, it is death to him not to be stirring. He cannot rest in himself, though, nay becausefilled with the greatest contents. He receiveth to do, but the wicked doth to receive. His pleasures, his joys, his delights, are displeasures, are troubles to him if they do not run forth themselves into God. Hence the soul at his stillest, and retiredest recesses is still putting out its heart, and breathing forth itself in praises, studying and contriving ways of activeness for the glory of its God; and hence the poor soul, though indeed only rich, when it lies at an under, in truth the very height of Christianity, cries out, O it cannot do, it cannot do. Blessed soul, that art estranged to thyself, that hast forgotten thyself and all thy good deeds, as things not worth the looking after, and hast got so forward in the ways of holiness, to be still more pressing onward to the mark, in a more speedy and active course, by how much the nearer thou comest to it: Thou that knowest what it is to cry out, enough Lord, mercy enough, what are those sweet pangs and blessed conflicts of soul under a divers notion, the while thou overpowered with apprehension of that Unspeakable Gift, in whom is given thee all things richly to enjoy, & now labouring under some present distemper, and being thereby led back to the remembrance of its root and original, art so overcome with the sight of thine own altogether unworthiness of the least mercy, thou dost even sink and fall under such weighty and over-bearing thoughts, with a sweet-humble-resignment of thyself, as now no more thyself, and so with an holy kind of carelessness as concerning thyself, art become willing to suffer, to do, to be any thing for thy God, and in that respect, the while thou tacitly, and most effectually deprecatst these, petitionst for the removal of these distempers, disturbances, indispositions, etc. as of themselves impediments to the more active duty, and the more manifest expression of the divine glory, though indeed these sweet impressions are not a little tending to it. The sincerity, the humility, the love the zeal that is more intentively active within, breaking forth with so much the more strength and vigour. And what can the most eminent, lively, stirring and active Christian do of himself, since the strongest is as weak as the weakest without God, and the weakest as strong as the strongest with him; who accepteth the sincere, hearty, studious indeavoring will for the deed; and will thus accept of thy mite, that thus throws away thyself as it were that throws in heart and all, although in the meanest and weakest performance, as desiring no mercies to thyself, but to return them as tributary streams to their first spring, even this shall he accept before all the Rivers of Oil, all the bodies that may be given to be burnt by a self seeking Pharisee that is still returning and winding about to himself like those waters of Ponds, Meers and Lakes that run into themselves 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Psal. 58. that are not acted by an inward principle to a selfe-withdrawing selfe-outing end, but are merely agitated by winds by external motions, and still move within the compass of themselves and therefore dry away, and perish with the hypocrite. And this doing is no doing, or if any, is aliud agere is male agere, that thus begins and ends in itself. But what dost thou O man of whom God requires only that thou shouldest do justice and walk humbly with thy God? And what is it to do justice, but to give every man his right, and for every man to give thee O Lord thine; all he doth, he hath, he is; all his pleasures, all his possessions, all his abilities, of which all since he can give thee nothing, what cause hath he to walk humbly with his God? And what infinitely sweet humble action and active humility is that that brings us to walk, to converse, to have fellowship with such an infinitely sweet God, the author, the finisher of our ever infinitely sweet humility; O who would not now humbly act in all, and ask his mirth what Doth it, and account his laughter madness, runs a round of self conceited pleasure and is not like a line that takes its beginning and ending in thee, that conveys not the soul along to thee only? Who would not Echo to the command of, Come do my will, with a ready and speedy I come I come to do thy will? If there be any truth even in natural love, is it not when it not receives for itself, but doth for its beloved, even to the undergoing the greatest pain, the losing of the dearest life, can nature live by, do, die for love, and shall not grace make nature subservient to Thee in all these? and what ever there may be more than these; where can the man find himself that knows thee, that loves Thee as he should as he would! here is the man that sees so much of Heaven that nothing but the love of God can make him meddle with a thought of the earth, while the God-unacquainted soul sees so much of earth that nothing but the love of himself can make him to meddle with a thought of heaven; all the glories of the Kingdoms of the world may well pass away as shadows, vanities, nothings before the soul that in his Christ sees his God, when the least tempting Apple may lose him that is not secured in this blessed premonition. And to that happy condition is the soul brought, and that is it which brings the soul to that happy condition, that looks after the world and Heaven for God, when the other after God for the world and Heaven; so while he makes himself his God, makes himself a devil, while the other in making himself Gods, makes God himself; while he draws in only that he might pour out, God pours in unto them while he is drawing forth, while he takes his graces themselves drinks and fills his belly with those living waters to this prime and principal end that the overflowing thereof may make glad the city of God, and carry both himself and it to be swallowed up of that infinite ocean of loves and sweetnesses. A Christian is (at least, should be) so rich with content so superabounding with such an exuberancy of the milk and honey of Canaan, that like the distended udders of high fed Kine, it even looks to be drawn forth, and longs for some to be taken into the partnership of its joys and graces; so far should he be out of any impotency and incontinency of spirit to be carried out to the fond desires of the creature, to pitchupon it as his happiness. Neither is there any thing I know that doth more raise, more ennoble the soul than this open heartedness, this freeness of spirit, nothing that makes it more like God himself, whom it hath, in whom it lives beaming forth the Sun of its favours and beneficialness to all that come within the compass of his Horizon and (as he hath conveniency) choses the emptiest vessel to communicate his fullness to, both of graces and common gifts, still like his God that professeth himself to delight most in the company of the humblest to be in a special manner the God of the needy, the fatherless, the widow the stranger, so he seeks the most indigent object to draw out his soul unto, and delights in delighting the comfortless; as he that finds it more blessed, more glorious (because more like to, more full of God) to give then to receive. As he that is still calling his faith to account, to see what it lays out in action. How stirring, how operative it is, how it works by love, whether it love not itself more than God, whether it be not more for receiving then doing? As knowing it a most strongly denying expostulation, an evident brand of an unbeliever, and that by him who best knew how to give every thing its proper mark: How can ye believe which receive honour (and consequently pleasure, profit, etc.) one of another, and not seek for that which cometh from God only. Now what greater honour can there be to a man, then to have his works bear witness that the Father hath sent him, to be enabled to do, to give any thing to God (as he is who does, gives to any in his name) what greater pleasure, profit, then to be the servant of God, employed in his business, to live in his sight, to walk before him, to be at his finding? But those miserable niggardly pinching souls, that are unacquainted with these inlarging, these fully satisfying apprehensions, no marvel they are still raking, scraping, and scrabling on the Dunghill for rotten rags. Certainly the soul that hath ever had any quick, lively, intimate, through resentments of the Divine Loves shed abroad in its heart, that hath ever feelingly found that God hath not a faithful industrious servant, who hath not him an indulgent Father, a dear affecting Husband, an inestimable Portion, cannot be base, cannot but live at an high rate, as he that knows the raising thoughts of so high dignity; cannot but spend freely, communicate liberally, munificently, as not ignorant of those Mines, those treasures inexhaustibly infinite, that are ever ready for his supply. Cannot but be merciful, and lending, while he still guides his affairs with discretion, and hath an eye too to that discretion, lest it should befool him in degenerating into baseness, and slily wind him about into himself, while he is studying how to outgo himself in keeping the precise, and narrow path prescribed him. Or rather an eye to it, lest it be false and counterfeit, it being impossible for Truth but to be ever like itself. This is he that cannot effeminate enervate himself in delicacies, and pleasures, while he knows none but in God, and they flowing into his soul like a spring of life, and vigour, that bear him forth in a voluble, diffusive, indefatigable course of activity in well doing, while they still bathe him in inconceivable refresh, unimaginable delights. This is not a man that is but the name and shadow of one, while like a brute beast he is carried on to eating, drinking, sleeping, or any natural desire, and pleasure, out of a mere 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 impetus, and propulsion of Concupiscence from somewhat to be received from them to himself. But the very doing of these obedientially as duties, as ordinances for somewhat to be done by them in a way of a further self-emptying and transacting himself into God, is that which makes this very thing the service of God, when the most glorious performances, the most public beneficialness, the most pain-taking actions, activity in things materially good, is but serving themselves, and the devil. So that that man's pleasure is God's service, because he makes God's service his pleasure and this man's painstaking in the best duties is a serving the devil, because it is the pleasing himself; the godly man acting not because it is pleasing to him, but it is pleasing to him because it is action, the other contrary; the godly, not that he may get to himself, but that he may get to God (and so indeed to himself) counting Gods glory his greatest good. And therefore employs himself in that which is most singular, and especially serviceable to God and Gods, and not in that which is most profitable to himself, he had rather spend thousands of pounds, of years, of any thing in the service of God, than the least penny, the least minute, the least any thing in the service, or (to say righter) the slavery of himself; as he that counteth his pleasures his works and duties, and his works & duties his pleasures, the doing of the will of God his meat and drink, and his meat and drink the doing of the will of God. And this were an excellent way to make us humble in excellencies, temperate in delights, diligent in action, and for avoiding those three consociating and Nation-destroying sins, Pride, Idleness, and fullness of Bread. So may we make an especial use of that common byword, questioning and examining our desires, when they call us to, or put us upon any thing, What too doc. And thus Christian I greet thee with that ancient salutation 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Do well, and farewell. And indeed our own, when we ask one another how we do, and wishing one another may do well, imports no less, but that to do well, is to be well. Neither is the description of bodily health disagreeable to that of the soul, it being such a frame and constitution of it, whereby it is fit and ready for the discharge of its several duties, in their right-due manner. So that they describe it not so much by its enjoying itself in a sweet and fresh temperature, resulting from the well symmetrizing of humours, and confermation of parts, as by its right & ready toward lines to requisite actions. So the soul then healthy, not so much in regard of the joy & comfort that it finds in God, as of the vigour by it, the active disposition, the operativeness towards him. Though indeed that cannot be without, nay without being the author of this, nor this without some measure at lest of that. The sincere soul making its work its wages, its duty, its delight. Grace being now grown, as I may say, a second nature it being connatural to him, and therefore as, nay more, pleasing in its actions, than those of our first could be; the one being but God's ordinary common, the other his especial choice extraordinary dispensation of himself. Grace being the spirit of Christ working on us, in us, and through us, beginning, continuing, and ending all in itself; happy Soul that knows what is the study of selfe-deniall, never can we find any where more of sweetness, because no where more of God. O could we make this our Hoc age our business, our one thing, whether would it lead us, where would it lose us, even to the following of God fully to be full of him, and still to follow him, to empty and fill, fill and empty in a most sweet and blessed exercise of soul till we lay down in everlasting rest and peace, wholly emptied of our old and dying, wholly filled with our new & everliving selves! O the unserchablenesse, the unconceiveablenesse of the Love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord! O the depth of its humility, the height of its zeal, the latitude and length of its obedience, what thing, what time can bond it! O what is it can so free, can so enlarge so sublime the heart, as the giving it up to the hands of its God, to be guided by him, at his pleasure! Can the soul contain itself within itself, that hath these thoughts. O when shall we know what it is, that singleness of heart, that being but one soul, but one heart! When shall we be like so many closing pieces of tender wax before the fervent heat of the Sun? When shall we be dissolved, when run into one another, and all into one holy Lump. Even so Lord Jesus come quickly.  1 Cor. 10.24. Phil. 2.4, 5. etc. 21. 

Sic nos non nobis.  
So we not for ourselves have fame;  
So we not for ourselves have gain; 
Nobis n● nati sum●   
So we not for ourselves have pleasure;  
So we not for ourselves have 
* Omnia mea temp amicorum temporib● absumend putavi C● Perdidid● 'em. (quun● nemini be nefecisset) Titus Imp●rator.  leisure.  
So have nor mind nor body's health  
To keep t' ourselves our selves is stealth.  
So nothing for ourselves we have,  
But have for Him that all things gave.  
So all things for ourselves we have;  
Since He who all, Himself us gave.    


GOes th' Boat uneven? Lean the other way;  
So with more safety and with less delay.  
In joying grieve, and in thy grieving joy,  
So neither change shall work thee such annoy.  
'Ts the man that makes his fortune: Ever's he  
Prosperous that learns, loves, wills, adversity.  
Then learn this lesson and 'tis worth the while,  
Let sorrow be the shadow of thy smile.  
Be not so jovial, frolic; so profuse,  
Lest plunged, up swim thou canst not through disuse.  
That mirth is madness where's no ponderousness,  
For reason's weighty, and imports no less  
Than God the moving cause, who once in thought  
The faithful soul in fearful joy is brought.  
Great God I sink w'th that All-contayning name  
Good God my burden and my Heaven's the same.  
What heart-betraying world wouldst have me joy?  
I'll turn my joy to my God-joying grace,  
And that will quickly give true grief its place:  
While both together sit with sweet accord  
And make my heart the music of my Lord.  
Or thinkest to quell me with thy fell Anno●?  
I'll turn my grief to my God-grieving sin,  
And that will quickly turn to joy again.  
Nay they are one, for they agree in one  
Blessed Father, sorrow smiles while joy doth moan.  
Both fall about his neck and kiss, brave sight,  
To see Grief weep for joy, the day through night.  
Thrice happy man this happy temper keeps!  
As th' golden Sun through th' Silver droppings peeps  
Upon the flowering earth, or softly plays  
O'th' gliding streams with'ts gently glittering Rays;  
As th' modest smile o' the native Heat  
Nor Chronic nor acute diseases threat.  
Thus wouldst thy sence-refined faith employ  
thou'dst th'one from th'other reciprocally draw.  
And in the Trinessence of both compose  
The temper would heaven in earth, God-man disclose.  
Thus grief should lose its name and nature, be  
Swallowed up of Glorying Humility.  
Humble I shall be in Heaven. O! ' th' weight o'th' Love  
O'th' Love presses my soul to solid joys!  
My spongy soul so often shrunk and swelled.  
Glorious I am on earth. O! th' height o'th' Love,  
O'th' Love raises my soul t'an humble poise!  
A temper ad 'pon dus might exactness dwell  
On this side th' Empyraean! so be I still  
Tempered to Justice, till on Zions Hill  
The Spirit-pondering-God shall find me weight  
Made me meet to live at such a glorious height.    

LOok not so much at the present as the future, having eye in adversity to prosperity, and prosperity to adversity; learn to estrange neither from your thoughts, that you may welcome either; they are guests that look for successive entertainment, be not so free to one, as that the other take you unprovided: they are enemies to each other, and yet an indifferent respect may make them both friends to you; be acquainted, yea familiar with both, but endear yourself to neither; deny neither of them admission to your head, so shall you both the possession of your heart; keep correspondency with both and you are safe, but give yourself to either, and it will lead you you know not whither; you are betrayed, you are lost, you shall be set upon, now by the one, now by the other, and become a slave to both; you shall then learn that it is better to observe ten then serve two; be not led so much by sight of what is, as foresight what may be, not so much by sense as by reason, and not so much by reason as faith, for that is beastlike, and looks but downright, this manlike and looks forward, but this last, Christianlike and looks upward. Labour then to know no such things as adversity and prosperity, but as the will or not the will of God in your having or not having these outward things, and learn this excellent Art of composing a mean out of two extremes. Take somewhat of the sweet to qualify the sour, and of the sour to qualify the sweet, yet let it savour most of the most benign, to which the other is but subservient. It is the sour grief and fulsome joy that distempers, but it is the joyful grief and grieving joy that is the sweet the only graceful temper. I deny not but changes of State may move you, but they must not remove you, they may somewhat alter the affection, but must nothing alter your station; suppose you sing the more cheerfully in the Sun shine and weep the more freely in the storm, yet must you mourn in this singing, and rejoice in this weeping; this Aequanimity, unwaveringnesse, standing, even, upright posture of soul is that which may be demonstrated the best, in that the excellency of every thing is according to its likeness, or rather partaking of that only excellency, and therefore as of his simplicity and infinity in the enlargedness and purity of heart, so its immutability in the steadfastness and immovableness of our mind; these being as necessarily concomitant to the proportion of our holiness as they are to his simplicity, there being nothing to bond or alter that that is unmixed, free, absolute, & hath nothing to hinder it in its perfection. And for that suiting ourselves to others, our sympathising tears and smiles, I think it so fare from being inconsistent with this, that it cannot well consist without it, for how else shall I accommodate myself to my friends in their present contrary extremities, how weep with them that mourn, and rejoice with then that rejoice at the same time. Nor can we find a greater help and furtherance to our promoving and progress in our Christian course then this unmooveablenesse in respect of digression. But if this station of soul be vergent to either hand, better to sadness (I mean not of harshness, discontent, or any kind of malignity, but a more solemness, retiredness of spirit) then to jollity, slightness, flashinesse, pragmaticalness, idlebusibodiednes, etc. nothing that I know arguing a man of a more empty and worthless spirit. By the sadness of the countenance the heart is made better; more pondering, more wary, more capable of council, diligent in action; again, love is more taking with ingenious, than terror with base and servile spirits, God's mercy in Christ will sooner fetch them up, than all his threaten cast these down. And indeed a Christian (so fare as understanding himself, the ground and use of his own affections) cannot but pleasure in his sorrow, delight in his mourning in his brokenness, in his contrition of heart, because, delights in doing the will of God, because, he sees the hand of God working it, feels it kneading as it were, subduing, fashioning it to his own mind, because, his affections are answerable to God's, he delights in that which God delights, and further, knows neither it, nor ought else of worth, further than subservient, conducible, advantageous to his love, his joy, his confidence in, his magnifying of Christ, etc. so his joy must needs have a touch, a tincture of grief; because he looks on it as on all his affections, as matter of duty and obedience (else would they not differ from bruit beasts) because bid rejoice in the Lord always, again bid to rejoice; but now he cannot so look on it, but with a sweet & gracious regret, to see it no more, because no more pure, that hath so infinite so holy a God for its object, for its only object, either immediately, or at least mediately. And so indeed this very grief cannot but intent, confirm, consolidate his joy in an humbly-thankfull (the only comfortable and truly joyful) posture of soul, to see in what a sweet and gracious temper the divine goodness maintains it, whose rich and abundant mercy it is that it finds any the least smatch of true and real peace. And I am persuaded, that even in heaven itself these hints and relishes of our own unworthiness, made worthy in Christ, of such an enmity reconciled in such a unity, will much further, intent and extend these inimaginable joys. Sure I am they are a heaven upon earth. And this, this only is the grief becoming a Christian, that leadest it to the purest-and-sublimed'st joys. Those fears those tremble that keep the soul in the humblest selfe-debasing, and therefore at the highest exaltation.  

Let no man part what God hath put together,  
Hence all our woes, what he hath jonyed we sever.  
From one another our affections go,  
And all from Him, and hence is all our woe.    


W—  
— Here now my soul!  
Dost hear him bid theetouch the world? thou may'st,  
But with thy Head, thy Hand; thy Heart's displaced,  
Is out of joint if't be a jot from Him  
That tries thee how thou canst be out while in  
The world thou seem'st. I am continually with thee.  
With him sweet Psalmist! may I, may I too be.  
I'd too refuse these miserable joys  
And wait for them are mixed with no annoys.  
'Tis baseness to be cozened, I'd better know  
I want, then want most when I least think so.  
Give me the right or none, no painted grapes,  
My stomach's wiser than to feed on shapes.  
Though th' Devil play the Zeuxis, and would cheat  
Me with a neat drawn colour, I have meat  
Of such experienced and approved worth  
Attends the craving soul, I'll ne'er go forth  
To tamper with his hooked flies, his pitfall chaff,  
His net-alluring glass, his brainsick laugh.  
Hence jiggish joys, give me the solemn sound  
Whose Treble's zeal, humility the ground,  
God makes the mean, completes the Harmony,  
For never two but three in one agree.  
And hence vain man thou and thy joys so jar  
Because the God of unitie's so fare  
From trivial pleasures; Long enough may'st lay  
The world to thine heart's ear, think now to play  
Some pretty toy, but ne'er canst bringed in tune,  
Or if thou bring'st it in 'tis out as soon.  
The thing's now absent to the mind, the mind  
Now to the thing, when met are straight disjoined.  
Let's outside joy be other where obtruded,  
That at th'best but circum praecordia ludit,  
But plays about the heart, the while 'tis sad  
I'th' midst of'ts joviall'st mirth; give me th' joy glads  
I'th' midst of its saddest sorrows; let my Spirit  
Rejoice, rejoice In Spirit; I this demerits  
The name of mirth indeed, when th' heart doth enter  
Into it, and it into the heart its centre,  
Secured from th' reach o' th' world's disturbance, while  
'Tis inside outside guarded from its guile  
It's thickest terriblest assailings, if  
The treacherous flesh betray it not; when a whiff  
O'th' ruder winds blows the th'other clean away;  
This weighty, watchful, inward joy shall stay.  
Delight's the life of nature; it cannot live  
But it must have somewhat may contentment give.  
But I'll take none o'th' false, and so of force  
My soul unto the true will take its course.  
My soul unto the true hath ta'en its course,  
That only, that can make me false divorce.  
Then may it be for ever strongly bend  
On thee, in thee may dwell; I thus intent,  
Come worlds come devils they may have never an ear,  
May have no part in me while I am here,  
Still busied, working me out of myself  
Int' him, whom while I see, I see all 's pelf.  
And happy sure here's happy work enough  
Still to bespeak me from this paltry stuff.  
Here Here's the ground and Pillar of thy bliss,  
Thy Christ, thy God: thy God thy Christ ne'er miss.  
With whom while thou shalt be, He'll be with thee,  
With whom it is eternal life to be.    


't'S the halest ablest-bodied man, and at  
The highest embonpoint of Athletique state  
Works longest and hardest with the least supply  
Of fresh repasts; as he whose symmetry  
Of nature-consentaneous juices, i'th'  
Th' abundance of their strength, 's not troubled with  
Those oft sharp gnawings of Hetrogeneous humours,  
Nor over-evacuation following tumours.  
That that's the halest strongest Christian  
Best longest work with least o'th' creature can;  
For he hath most of God, and who hath so  
He little cares which way the world will go.  
IT shall never touch his heart, nor task his brain  
To lay about to fetch it bacl again.  
As he whose lines are fallen in a fair  
Large pleasant place, is made for th' worse to care.  
If't will come by fair means well and good, he'll use  
It when, and as he thinks convenient, lose  
IT he will ere he'll employ the smallest foul;  
Employed he doth that lets it pinch his soul.  
't's the soundest body that feeds o'th' simplest fare;  
The soundest soul that makes his God his fare.  
A happy man the spirit' f a healthy mind  
Can in a health-injoying body find.  
A happy man the spirit' f a healthy mind  
Can in a health-deprived body find.    


LIft up prevailing hands in praising action  
'Gainst Edom and the Edomitish faction.  
There are they fallen, proud Prilistims withal  
Their Ashdod brats; so let them, let them fall  
And never rise, while on our Harps we sing  
The song of Moses and the Lamb our King.  
Victorious meekness! gird thy all-conquering sword  
Unto thy potent thigh, give give the word  
Unto thy Heavenly Host they'll strait conjoin  
With earth's celestial Armies; then combine  
Rome, Spain, France, Hell take the devil and all,  
The Mitred Captains of the high Priests Hall.  
Come on brave Borgia with your prancing horse,  
Ye Popes dear Nephews, or which sounds the worse  
Though th' same his Base Sons, whom he hath begot  
On an unwedded Church. Change Cannon shot  
Into the shot of Cannon Tout d'an coup  
Devour th' Presicians, they be a slender soup  
TO a Pulpit full of Sack, a slippery yolk  
In lusty Muskadine, they'll never choke  
So well washed down with blood; but if you think  
You'z find as hard work as ye had to get a drink  
O'th' wary Scot; close noddles, constult together,  
Hoord up i'th' deep'st Abbisse ' f y'r holy Father  
Jesuitick plots, say a confederacy,  
But it shall not stand till truth itself can lie.  
Come gather then together, and be ye broke  
T'irrecomposible pieces. He hath spoke.  
Still will he think ye ride upon an Ass?  
No no, his white steed's mounted, he'll surpass  
Your forciblest finenesses; Jerusalem  
Leap, leap for joy, Thy King comes and doth him  
Thee round with mighty mountains, and his Host  
Is all prepared thine enemies to accost.  
For His are thine, for thou art His, then boast  
The in thee Lord thy God when thou art in th' emost  
Inextricable dangers. Here I here's  
A Saintlike patience, thus to chant the bliss  
Of bleeding wounds, while their Te Deums charms  
Fond souls with Swanlike songs, our harmless harms  
Shall sweetly breathe in sighs triumphant lays  
Of conquering Ios, while our blood shall praise  
That name above the proudest wrath, and raise  
A generation that shall Babel raze.  
Stones shall be Churches, and dead bones shall live  
 God his glory unto Rome shall give.  
there's breath enough in heaven and dust on earth  
To build more men to ruin all her mirth.  
How heaven derides these Gotham sages, would  
Drown Eels i'th' water, drown the Church in blood?  
What? 's the Parisian massacre forgot  
How crowned with many a thousand Huganot?  
Or th' Marian flames? how oft th' Prelatique hands  
Were crowded with increasing Puritans?  
Or those Ten primitive persecutions, what  
But more Christs-honourers hath their crueltio got?  
But still the devil's the devil, although he know  
He works the Saints more weal himself more woe,  
So mad is envy, it had rather lose both eyes  
Then 'tis neighbour's one should see 'tis deformities.  
Courage my hearts, we nor our cause can die,  
Nay we may live to see proud Egypt lie  
Dead on the shore. What fear we? Th' Wonderful  
In Skill, Power, Peace, Love 's ours; what shall they pull  
The Palm from Him? or shall they rend a Limb  
Fro' th' Father of Spirits? hurt the eye of Him  
Whose voice is thunder and his eves are fire,  
Who hands their breath? then have they their desire,  
And ne'er till then. Thus in my Fort, my Peace,  
My Castle-Christ, my flaming Wall, ne'er cease  
There are they fallen (yea though I think I fall  
And all my fellow soldiers, for thus call  
We death, because we think it so, when 'tis  
The only rise unto our perfect bliss)  
Th' irrevocable word 's past, decree 's signed;  
All things are present to a faithful mind:  
For he sees all in God, but he sees all  
At once; and thus while he beholds, he'll call  
Things past and future present, things that are  
As they were not, that are not as they were;  
Let kingdom's clash, and their foundations shake,  
Haughty hearts shrink to their heel, let fury take  
The loftiest Hills and hurl them in the Main;  
Let th' lively Sun his sprightly rays refrain  
And wraps 's in sable might; let heaven and earth  
Meet in confusion, while hell yawns; our mirth,  
Shall that be swallowed up by this? our joy  
That none can take away? no foe n' annoy?  
Rouse up brave spirits, glorify the name  
Of that great God that ever is the same,  
And we in Him; life, death, principalities,  
Powers, things present, things to come, shall these  
disjoin us from our God? if once in Him  
One as He is One? What is it that can dim  
Our glorious inutterable joy  
That sparkles purer lustre from th' alloy,  
(That streams more radiant lustre from th' alloy)  
Of foiling grief? A joy whose native heat  
Grows stronger by the winter winds that beat  
Upon 'tis concentred spirits; A joy that rises  
Higher yet higher by the fresh surprises  
Of 'tis Arke-secured braveries from all  
The Ocean-inundations can befall.  
Nay lead me captive grief, yet one I know  
Shall captive thy captivity, and show  
Thy open spoils as Trophies, while I sing  
How sweet's the memory of sour? to bring  
To mind those tempests past, while housed in heaven  
I feast on Leelesse Wines, rich marrow and leaven.  
Untouched bread. So great ill turned to well  
'Tis makes his glory-and-my good excel.  
there's nothing, nothing ill but all is well  
Is always well to those whose ways excel.  
Thus is th' upright as fare from's neighbour as hell  
From heaven; here well is ill, there ill is well.    

Nullius addictus jurare in verba Magistri.  

— NO, give me  
A Philosophic Ingenuity;  
A Bacon, Luther, truth-exploring brain,  
Can cull the Wheat from th' Chaff, and bring a grain  
To th' graynarie of knowledge; no lazy pate  
Will nothing else but read, hear, transcribe, translate,  
And take what's brought it at adventure an idle drone  
Will suffer any thing ere't will work▪ but one  
Whose naturals can't endure t' be Aristotled  
With ipse dixits, nor his spirituals throttled  
W'th a Spiritual Lord's irrefragable propositions;  
But h's freeborn spirit makes exquisite inquisitions  
I'th' depths of grace and nature; scorns to have  
His judgement strangled like a Turkish slave  
B' usurping tyranny; a noble soul  
Whose understanding we'll suffer no control,  
But from his Soveraigne's Viceroy, Rational  
Faith, faithful reason. A God-taught soul, in all  
Consults with, credits him. No tell him o'th' Fathers,  
He hath but one and that's in heaven, and he who gathers  
From him instructions, as a guided guide  
he'll use h'm if needs, but first w'il hath ' father well tried  
By his, not his by th' Father, though he be as old  
As superannuated Paul's, as bold,  
As peremptorle as he that raskaled Calvin  
As Holy as his Holiness no reverend Calvin,  
I'd rather be a freeman's slave, be thine,  
Then be a slave to slaves; they'll draw me fine  
Directions, whose selves are but th' amanuensis  
Of their imperious lusts; They'll make offences  
Of working on a play day, and none of playing  
Upon an holy day; whose sweetest mouthed sayings  
Sic volo, sic jubeo stat pro ratione voluntas  
Import to a discreet subaudi, as  
What devillisher a Tyrant then a slave?  
he'll ride to th' devil, and all the world would have  
To bear him company; but stay Saints Peres,  
Or go if you will, y'l ne'er meet with Saint Pierre's  
Keys, nor St. Paul's Cathedral there, how e'er  
Ye may with their attendants. But whether would be are  
MY incensed muse? Reclaim, no further forth,  
Why fliest thou after Rooks? they are not worth  
Thy looking on, thy slightnig'st, passing'st thought;  
How came I then thus unawares transport?  
I love thee Truth and thence it is I hate  
Truth hating falfehood with a perfect hare.  
I can as well contain my roused Spirits  
As bound the Ocean when thou bid'st it ferry its  
Orerunning waves beyond its bounding banks.  
What heaven-taught soul can brook these hell-learned pranks?  
Sum Liber natus educatus and  
I can't endure be under Rome's command.  
The truth hath made me free and I am free  
Indeed, and shall I again in bondage be?  
No hang 'em all, an hundred thousand Jesuits  
And Jesuitized Buyshops, these pirckly Jebusites  
And Thorny Canaanites; too long the'ave been  
The outers of our eyes while ran us in  
The persecuted sides; and thou great God  
That makest my flesh to tremble, what period  
Will madness put to its untamed pride,  
That dares to pierce th' omnipotent his side,  
His eye, his heart? and is thy glory not  
As dear to thee as life? what seek they but  
That dreadful glory, Thy prerogative?  
Their will must be our reason, and we must live  
At their selfe-wired self-wired devotions, according to  
Their monstrous wisdom, not subordinate to  
Th' Creator's word. Behold the men are God,  
Are b'come like one of them these odd  
‛ Cause-God uneavened souls, the ' le not derive  
Their policies from him, and won't he drive  
These Rebels out from their fool's Paradise?  
They shan't survive our hopes, and ever 'tice  
Fond souls with Copes and Popes, with Chringes, Crosses, 
* In the immediate, solemn, public Worship, before a promiscuous people, whose Art and Heartleave them far below the subserviency of such means.   
Pipes, Poppets, Surplus, and the Service tosses  
The Psalms like Tennis balls, the while they yawl  
Like primer Chits at their lessons, and terribly bawl  
With such a mad confusion as if all  
Zeal lay i'th' tongue and th' ear, nor need we r'call  
The spirits to the heart in a stayed still posture  
To sing with grace within. Still shall they foster  
Winde-sucking souls with superstitious milk  
The while they ruffle it in their braving silk?  
And like the child that prides it in its new  
Gay sleeves, how burnish, swell at every view?  
Who dares come nigh 'em now unless he would  
Be browbeaten to the channel, unless he stood  
H's due distance cap in hand. And Sirrah you  
Look that you preach me thus and thus, you'll rue  
IT else, and he may believe't by h's torvid looks  
On th' Grave learned pious Minister whose books  
He is not worthy t' bear; so sturdy and stout  
'S advanced villainy, so pestilent devout  
there's not a Puritan but he'll root him out.  
(How strong Robustious lusty frolic spracke  
Th' zeal kindled with a cup of bribing Sack)  
Now down goes th' wicked houses all about  
The sacred Temple, and that malapert  
Parochial child that dares sh' unmannerly perk  
I''s lolling head upon its Mother's side,  
I' reverend aged Mother, I can't abide  
Th'indecency and disorder, strike't to th' ground  
That not a stone upon a stone be found,  
When foreign and domestic Catholics  
Come by and see this Massy Edifice  
SH' entire, complete a Mass of holy stones,  
IT will make 'em all turn Protestants at once.  
But what, when hear it in? when see within  
As pretty Babes as Baby e'er hath seen?  
They'd shake the cap from any wondering clown,  
And summons all the children of the town.  
Dim-sighted Grandsire's, and ye moap-eyed dames  
Here's curious spectacles to clear your aims.  
Poor Souls! How ridiculous your folly! but ye,  
How lamentable! And cu'd I show you the  
Soft pity turns my bowels; and make you see  
Th'wild fury turns your brains, how glad you'd be  
Your souls were rid o'th' servitude of men,  
Your hearts were humble, selfdenying; then  
They'd be th'freeschools o'th' highest Majesty,  
Where he would sit and would your Master be.  
The humblest, praying'st, meditating'st souls  
Are those with whom he most communion holds.  
There's no man I call master, only One  
Me th'truth in Him-the-only-Truth hath shown.  
In this Light see I light, light am I in this,  
And where I of ned, more intimately into His  
I'll get, and be, till I in every part  
Shall meet himself, from th'interoccurring dark  
Delivered, and make my sence-beshadowed faith  
Pellucid sense; i'th' mean, hear what he saith  
Hath promised he'll never leave his Saints untaught,  
But into All Truth they should by his Spirit be brought.  
And when I learn of any, it shall be  
O'th' humblest men, for most of God they see.  
'Ts the sight of God makes th'only kindly breach  
On th'heart, the head doth only truly teach;  
But when in Heaven, I most of God shall see  
And therefore there most knowing-humble be.  
But since this humble knowledge is such an Heaven,  
I'll have a care how here I am deceiven.  
Here be as truly knowing as I can,  
So truly humble so an Heavenly man.    


ANd art thou silenced too sweet Lute? 
1640.   
Thou dost nor preach, nor yet dispute.  
No controversy but consent  
'S the language of my Instrument.  
Yet what rude, ruffling Priest appears  
To pluck Apollo by the ears?  
Art thence so mute, as out of heart to sing  
Till th' freed Evangelists fresh ditties bring?   

Be then suspended on the willows  
While th' Babylonians taunt fill us.  
My cunning hand forget thy skill,  
And thou my dancing tongue be still.  
there's yet refreshing times may show  
These brisk suspenders—  
Then while they howl their penitential Psalm  
My pitying thanks congratulate the Calm.   

Then sing. Why, why not now? or how  
With Him doth differ Then and Now?  
With him my only joy; who while  
He is, my clouded brow shall smile  
Serene Aspects through th' grimmest night,  
And teach my grievingst grief delight.  
Heaven's harpers did Rome's Epicedium play  
Hundreds of years before her fatal day.   

Then come sweet Lute with gentle Airs  
Come kindly touch me with the Cares  
Of Christs-Crosse-bearing souls, whose share  
Of common woe and weal I bear.  
With Voltos then come raise my spirits  
Unto the Triumphs they inherit,  
Whose woe' their weal, whose wound's their cure, whose Heaven  
'S their sweet, whose vows their wealth, whose hel's their Heaven.    


Where am I? How this turn hath giddied me? 
Decemb. 1640.   
Can hardly credit what I plainly see.  
So fare fro'th door? so backward on the stage,  
Still to protract this weary pilgrimage?  
Blessed Lord! so turnd'st our feare-led captive thoughts,  
As those that dreamt; we saw devouring Vaults  
Heaped by the foaming Beast with Virgin Slain  
Indigned his I doll-lust. We dreamt again,  
Christs-warre-preventing Throne became the Theme  
Of speedy praise; but feared this was a dream.  
But we awake in Paradise,  
And that no fools, be we but wise  
To keep our hold'our God so close,  
Nor becks, nor blows shall make us lose.  
Then prove the former dream yet true,  
Change but the time the latter's too.    


AS he whose brains are weak, and business much,  
Walks here & there, now this now that will touch,  
Takes up, lays down, would somewhat, knows not what;  
Even so my Good my God I had forgot,  
Crazed by my fall; Still were my brains employed  
With swarms of busy follies, still annoyed  
With great pains taking in great trifles, void  
Of all success, and got as soon was cloyed.  
Thus hither thither flew, but ne'er cu'd find  
An object suitable unto my mind.  
Beauty, honour, riches seemed an empty shade  
Before I saw the substance, ere I'd made  
Discovery of the Truth they seemed a lie;  
But that being seen they seemed a lying lie,  
A shade of shades. Nature's dim glimmering light  
Burnt clearer in my heart, and showed me a sight  
Far worthier choice. A soul, a beauteous soul  
Enriched with rarer honour, a prudent soul,  
A meek-sweet lovefull heart, whose noble spirit  
Scorns a few-thousand-miled world should bury it  
‛ N a petty speck of dirt; but pleasures in  
Its larger glories by the eye unseen.  
Then after this while careful search I made  
Straight shun a light showed this too but a shade.  
A Heaven-sent light was darted in my heart,  
And made me this perverting course divert.  
The world in 'tis richest ornaments, is but  
A show, a show th'complet'st nature; but  
Thou only good, and therefore only true,  
Give my in a recapitulated view  
Those Scripture-scattered Glories. O cu'd I those  
Thy analysized Graces well compose  
Into their lovely face! How deep I'd fall  
In love, and say thy beauty darkens all.  
The creatures beauties but a skindeep lawn,  
That by some slight distemper soon undrawne  
Reveals the lurking messengers of death  
That lie in wait to snatch away the breath;  
And so possess their Master of the face  
That seemed but now above a creatures grace.  
But take the purest in 'tis admired'st hue,  
If modest, else 'tis none, it dares but show  
Its hands and face; but He, but always He  
Is altogether Lovelinesses, He  
Is Lovelinesses altogether; every one  
Is in Him, and but in Him there is none.  
The creatures virtue's but a fairer foul,  
Lodged in too straight a room t' content my soul,  
That only recreated splendours loves,  
Whereon simplicity and infin'ty moves.  
And where may I enjoy it better than  
Admitted to its nearest approaches, when  
No intervenient object bars my sight  
In its impure and narrow Channel? Light  
Pure, perfect, boundless, inaccessible light,  
When shall I live in thy delighting sight?  
I live, but I would live another life,  
Where light and darkness know no longer strife.  
I live, but I would live another life  
That might inform me what a death's this life.  
How how m'abhorring spirit starts me back  
When by thy fair I see their ugly black?  
When by thy wisdom I their folly see,  
And by their folly may the wiser be.  
With what a mightier force my soul returns  
To thee, in thee with mightier fervour burns!   

O Light of Lights, when shall I see  
Thee as I'm seen! When shall I be  
Thou Love of Loves with Thee i'th' highest!  
Who long to learn yet what's my Christ?  
May Thoughts, Men, Books, may all I see  
But answers to this question be.  
May Thoughts, Men, Books, may all I see  
Be Thoughts, Men, Books, be All of Thee.  
May every Sermon that I hear  
But break the Clouds, this Sun may clear.  
May every thing I hear or see,  
Be all but Testaments of Thee.  
And when  told me all they can,  
I still must ask as I began.  
Well satisfied in seeking, till  
My search with satisfaction fill.    


what's white compared to black? to brown, to grey?  
What mar'le it excels? but take the lightest grey,  
Nay th'purest white the strongest sight e'er saw;  
Sublime thy apprehension yet, and draw  
A purer, unto which this bright'sts as black  
As th'face of Hell, and yet believe there lacks  
As much resemblance in this draught to th' Life  
As Earth of Heaven, of Heaven for all our strife  
'S but portrayed with a coal, revealed God  
In h's holiest glories by a dirty Clod  
O'th' work-besoiling Clay: and yet believe  
thou'rt altogether unable to believe  
The difference till thou seest it. Thou't see a light  
Is able to discern an Hypocrite.  
A man s'inlightned, he hath skill enough  
To cheat himself, and all the world; this snuff,  
This dying snuff shall burn as black as Hell,  
When with its Christ sincerity shall dwell.  
But what's that all-surpassing splendour? O  
Where's he? Where's he will lead me to that show?  
And teach my thoughts, my rude and artless lines  
To draw the features of that face divine.  
Divine? That every foolish fondling we'll blurt  
On a neat piece of finer-formed dirt.   

O beauty? Could I speak! but I have lost  
Expressions in impressions. I'd rather lie  
Admiring! Adoring! More sweetnesses suck I  
So; but fire will out, must speak of him,  
Rightly if I can, however speak of him  
The best of things so earnestly I covet,  
Th'Unspeakable Gift, yet can I say I love it.  
And love will praise its object, so must I  
And yet now I begin to praise, I die.  
O may my life so porutrait forth my Love  
To win Corrivals, mount their spirits above  
With sacred flames, while I stand peering there  
Where all Terrestrial beauties shed dove's are.  
O see, prie, gaze, b'inamoured, here is fare  
For Myriad of Lovesick worlds and spare.  
O see, prie, gaze, b'inamoured, here is fare  
Whose Rivals bring each other greater share.  
For many eyes, hearts, see, love, more than one,  
Fresh Graces spy to feed fresh hungers on.  
O here's a banquet where the guests find ever  
The more the merrier, for the cheer fails never.  
Discovered such a goodly plenty shows  
Whose there can grieve but that his friends it lose?  
Whose there can grieve, but that his grief's his sauce,  
To make him relish more his wiser choice  
Of food, of friends? Whose modest sharpset eye  
Each corner of this feasting face doth pry,  
And every Gospel-verset in his reach  
As some Grace-whelming dish doth , and teach  
His neighbour's eyes the shape, and mouth the sweet.  
Happy, happy souls that at this banquet meet!  
't's a doubtful feast indeed; not only 'cause  
've all that Heaven and Earth can give; but 'cause  
When we remember whence we came, poor wretches  
Raked up from dunghills, drawn from under hedges,  
Blind, lame, sick, naked, wand'ring here and there  
Th'beaten road to death; and now see where we are  
Translate from death to life; from that dark, sad,  
Disconsolate State, or which is worse, those mad  
And desperately deluding joys, to such  
Incircleing reality of bliss, as much  
Glory as our capacity can bear,  
Angels attend us, God himself our cheer,  
Our Cloathing-Light, we are not able t'beare  
IT but doubt we're in a dream, and fond fear  
We've nothing, 'cause so much; but th'night's far spent,  
Th'last watch, th'last hour's nigh, th'day we'll prevent's,  
Gird up your loins, trim up your Lamps, along,  
Hast, tune your hearts to th'Epithalanian song.   

Now, now we see the day no more through night,  
Our earthy houses now so swept, so clean  
There's not a dust, a speck, a moat to dark a beam  
While solemnize th'Espousals of the darklesse Light.    


When wilt thou come dear Lord, and show the face  
Shall blemish all these splendours? O the fire  
Burns in this breast for an allay of Grace!  
Of Grace that feeds not damps such blessed desire.  
Some drops of love still to increase the flame,  
And make it bear me thither whence it came.   

Was'e ned a reflection from the righteous Sun  
Was glanced in my heart? Or was it one  
From that light-likened Angel? Then undone  
I am, unless quite out the fire be blown  
By th'holy Spirit. But can the devil come  
So dressed? He hath a cloven foot say some.   

Sure this he hath, he cannot humble be.  
But he can counterfeit. But he's so bad  
he'll not seem good, for nothing; now what shu d'make thee  
Masque thyself in humility, who had  
N'advantage hence? Sure 'twas the native hue,  
I'm in a Labyrinth; but where's the clew?   

Lord if it be of thee, then let it stand;  
If not, down, down let it for ever fall.  
'tis thee I seek in it, dost thou command  
Mine Isaak? here 'tis, and myself and all.  
O how I joy I've such a sacrifice  
Whereby my God my Love unto him tries.   

Sure many choicer splendours have I seen;  
Yet few so choice; was it my sensual eye  
I sought to please, fit objects they had been:  
But a new eye new glories did espy;  
Through that bright Crystal a fare brighter jewel,  
That yet into this fire casts in fuel.   

How how I'm wracked! love, hate, desire, averse,  
Sorry, rejoice, fear, hope, angry, well pleased,  
Careful, not care,— cannot rehearse.  
Hope t'ought not be, fear't aught, there am I eased  
Diseased here; well, I'll stint the strife,  
Near lose my Love that lost for me his Life.   

Lord how I love thee that thou didst not leave  
Me in the creatures hand; alone 'tis thee  
Thee 'tis alone to whom I wish to cleave,  
My other wish serves this; if thou dost see  
It cement fit to make me closer cling  
To thee, to me dear Lord that cement bring.   

I dare not fetch it least that I should bring  
For mortar slime, I'll set me down and bless;  
Thy name, first to thy willing of the thing,  
Then to thy time, means, manner I'll address  
Me, my way roll on thee, delight in thee,  
Thou't does, I my-thy hearts desire shall see.   

How full I am! what shall I do for vent?  
I muse, th' fire's tined, when will the word's burst out?  
They do so crowd, throng, press, stop, they are so penned,  
Come loaden with such matter, that I doubt  
I must be feign to let them all alone,  
And in ward speak what in word can't be shown.   

Thy mercy's Lord, I speak it with my heart,  
Flow in so fast I am not able t'beare  
The memory of them, how much less convert  
My thoughts to words, yet will I have a care  
Both I and others both in my word and deed  
The thankful memory of Thy Loves may read.    


Blessed! blessed be thee my inligtning sun,  
For now I see I'm but a shade:  
Blest! blessed I feel my life begun,  
For now I feel my soul thou'rt made.   

I am not Lord, but I would be.  
I'd not be I; but I'd be thee.  
Not be my own, be at thy call,  
Would nothing be, would ha' thee all.   

I'd be but feet, and thou shouldst walk,  
I'd be but tongue, and thou shouldst talk,  
I'd be but eye, I'd be but ear,  
And thou shouldst see, and thou shouldst hear.   

What see I, hear I in this field?  
Thou thee through me dost hear and see;  
Where go I? With whom is this talk held?  
'Tis thou through me speakest, comest to thee.   

Trees? birds? home? self? These? What's all th'world to me.  
Thy Spirit through them all conveys me Thee.  
So I? All th'world is but thy instrument.  
In which thou sittest a playing thy-my content.  
Most blessed God that brought'st my mind in frame  
Not left'st me a set-off-discord to thy name.    


O rub me, rub me, I begin to fall.  
My?— What love Convulsions, pull and hall  
M'adheringly-pursuing soul? 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 — I  
THEM left behind— O for wings for strength to fly!  
One drop, One little— No Cordial left  
He? No Balsam— t' keep my heart uncleft?  
—  
E'en gone I was, but that a lightsome thought,  
Whose season-bearing seed was deeply wrought  
I'th' secrets of my heart, sprang up and brought  
Me an Idea o'th' Inlivening Tree  
Who stretched itself beyond the farth'st degree  
O'th' spacious Heavens, tendering me'ts healing leaves  
And ay-preserving fruit, when my heart perceives   

I''s feare-shrunck self with hopeful joys enlarged,  
Whereon m'officious spirits are discharged  
Unto their several functions, while the peace  
Past understanding, thence doth re-increase  
My watchful guard in heedy confidence  
To hold my peace in holding Peace's Prince.    


Happy's the man that knows the cause of thing's!  
Unhappy then's the man whom God not brings  
Acquainted with himself; only happy he  
Hath him his friend in whom he all doth see.    


HOw good it is to wait on Thee  
Dear Good! How good it is! To be  
Possessed with that that I desire,  
That's not the thing that I require.  
But to desire with what possessed  
Thou'dst have me be, that's my request.  
The world hath not the thing I would;  
Till I can hear Thee say I should.  
But still in aequilibrio stand,  
Expecting thy scale-turning hand.  
Not any thing till nothing will,  
So false are th'weights of good and ill.  
But thine are true Blessed Truth! O tell  
My heart what's ill, and what is well.  
Till than I'll lean th' contrary way,  
Wish not to have't 'cause wish I may,  
So happily may I meet with Thee;  
For we are contrariety.  
The godliest heart inhabiting  
The sweetest soul, is this a thing  
For its peculiar interest?  
Or is ned of it in Christ possessed?  
Or, what to Do? what glory wouldst  
Have more returned thee by it, shouldst  
Thou give't then if thou shouldst detaineed?  
What service more? Or can thy Saints  
Find more content than when they do  
Th' best service, bring th' great'st glory to  
Thy Name? Or could it want, it did  
It make for that? wilt thou forbid  
What soever's for thine honour? or  
What soever's not, it not abhor!  
Or is it not t' wax wanton 'gainst  
Him that it with his loves acquaints?  
Or shall it use it as a Type  
Of that All-signified Antitipe?  
Or isn't there room enough in thee  
To lose it in? capacity  
Enough for all 'tis affections? were  
They fare more overflowing? were  
All th'r straggling streams one channel, nay might  
All th' worlds be one, be poured out  
To thee, how small a drop they'd be!  
And can it spare a thought from thee?  
Or where's else that magnetic force  
Can draw its hard-adhering course  
On after it? Or where  meet  
With such a sympathising sweet,  
To bartre soul for soul? to change  
Till each unto itself were strange;  
Nor would acknowledge it, nor own  
It further then't was two in one.  
Or can it find simplicity  
Else where, else where infinity?  
Or wilt thou show thy manifold skill  
In passing through so nartow a quill  
With fuller incomes? what's thy will?  
That setst this step 'gainst that? while still  
thou'rt going on the readiest road  
Unto th' same end of sure abode  
My good-thy glory. What's thy will?  
This way? or that way? That's my will.  
It is not good to be alone.  
We're one another's, not our own.  
'Tis very good to be alone  
To him that is with All-in-One.  
But so was he to whom it was said;  
Then say Lord what thou wilt, I'm said  
My vote my vote shall counterpoise,  
Thy casting voice shall make the choice.  
'tis only good that I would have;  
'tis only God than I would crave.  
And yet thou sayst, whose search hath found  
IT, a good, choice rarity hath found.  
One only thing there needs; to be  
With or without all goods with Thee.  
And yet how can I without 'em be?  
Since I'm in Thee in whom all goods be?  
How good it is to wait on Thee  
Dear God how good it is to be  
Drawn after thee, the while thou hould'st  
The favour forth, withdraw'st thee, towl'st  
The soul from't self, to follow thee  
With whom it is so good to be.  
And, w'th what rich interest he repaies  
Our praying praising waiting days?  
A gracious John, sage Samuel,  
Blessed Isaac, Immanuel.  
How choice? how sweet the mermies are  
When given in that were so fare?  
How welcome th' presence o' the food  
To which the stomach long hath stood.  
How welcome th' absence o' the food  
That's so supplied with such a good?  
The mercy of mercies when sent forth  
I'th' fullest time's o'th' fullest worth.  
What pleasant Music hears the man  
That keep time with's Creator can?  
That's nor before nor is behind,  
But jump together mind and mind?  
How good it is to wait on thee  
Dear God? How good! might th' world once see  
My joy in things unseen, 'twould still  
The endless motion of their will  
In fond desires, 'twould stint their care,  
And set their souls on edge for th' fare  
Wherewith my starvingst wants grow fat  
With thriving vigorousness; but that  
'S their misery, they'll not believe  
That we joy most when most we grieve,  
O how I pleasure in his no,  
When I would give the worlded were so!  
I surely this conversion is,  
My will converted into his.  
O love th' Lord, all my soul, all my heart,  
All my might, my strength! then can I part  
With aught to aught but Him? whose call  
'S for all, and's worthy of more than all.  
Thou shalt not have this thing; what thing  
Can please me then? There's nought can bring  
M'equivalent content; but that  
All prevalent sweet that sweetened that.  
All my joys in it as it I see  
In Thee. So, not in it, but Thee.  
I then can want the world and it  
But Thee I can't, O don't retreat  
Thou, 'nd then it's here. For what is it  
But a meet help, in, by, to get  
More, Thee; so it thou'lt be  
Wh'art all to me.  
So makest my be  
All f'r Thee.    


ANd shall thy servant find refreshment here?  
The garden smiles, while pretty Philomela  
Stills the sweet Air. Yet nought I see, feel, hear  
But filth, but stench, but screeching cries of Hell,  
Unless thy spirit's my Air, i'th' garden be,  
And my Beloved sing his Loves to me.  
My dearest God my mouth wilt not thou fill?  
'Tis opened wide; this is my only breath,  
With this, though dead I be, yet live I still;  
Without this while I live, I live in death.  
Oh how it's kindly heatings do resolve  
The chilling fears my sadder heart involve?   

O how it's gentle coolings do allay  
My sulpsury passions? how it's cleansing gales  
My drowsiest dullest dumps do clear away?  
Thus o'er my earth, phlegm, choler, blood prevails.  
Dull phlegm, sad earth, mad choler, turned to blood  
That's active, cheerful, sober; thy spirit how good?   

Blow with thy southern, and thy northern blasts,  
Blow on my garden, they will purge my flowers,  
Well nourish them, them fragrant make, and cast  
Such grateful odours through our amorous bowers,  
he'll quickly come and eat his pleasant fruit,  
And at one Banquet we must have the Lute.   

Then will he sing, and gently touch my heart,  
The many-stringed instrument I keep  
Tuned to his spirits recorder, t'beare its part,  
And answer grace for grace; thus softly creep  
These warbled melodies through every vein,  
Rapt up with raptures that I can't contain.   

But needs must beg a kiss, a stroke, a glance,  
A sent, from those sweet lips, that glorious eye,  
Hand gentle, precious ointment; needs must dance  
With all my might; and if my flesh envy  
Me this blessed pleasure, and not throughout the night  
Let me prolong these joys, yet I'll delight.   

My bed shall be his bosom, his left hand  
My pillow, and his right my covering.  
My Curtains Angels round about me stand,  
My Canopy shall be my God his wing.  
But how dare I thus speak? how dare? how dare  
I not? It is presumption to despair.  
I did believe therefore I spoke,  
And now I sleep my heart shall wake;  
Hear him in visions of the night,  
But when he speaks he speaks delight.   

And were it lawful t'speake but what I know,  
I'd only in that monosyllable show  
The soberer world a shadowed glimpse of that  
Unknown, that unconceived pleasure, that  
Sublime d'light th' God overshadowed soul inherits  
That knows the sweets result from mixed spirits.    


Why wilt reveal thyself to me, and not  
To th' world? difference, such difference put  
Where there is none? Even so my father cause  
T pleased thee; t' unwrap thee o' thy mysterious laws,  
And give thy unvailed beauties into me;  
And take my love-inflamed heart to thee.  
To live by faith, by love, that live by action,  
And but thy pleasure what's my satisfaction?    

To you it is given to know the ministeries of the kingdom of Heaven. And art not thou O Lord tui juris? art not Thou at Thine own disposal, at whose disposal are all the things in the world? mayst not thou give thyself to whom thou pleasest? or what is Heaven but Thee? or the knowledge of its mystery but the knowledge of Thee? and the knowledge of Thee life eternal, Thy free and gracious, and therefore not worke-fore-seene gift. Shalt Thou depend on the creature, or that on Thee? Thou on its will, or it on Thine? Can the humble soul say, thou sawest man would be good or bad, and therefore thou must needs order him to life and death? and so not thy will but theirs must have the precedency, the preeminency. It is not safer to say, that thou who art an absolute and free agent, giver and disposer of thyself, (in the inhabitation of whom in the soul is Grace, Glory, Life eternal) that thou in leaving and passing by a man, hath left him as bad, because not partaking of thee the only good; or blasphemously to say, thou seeing some goodness in man without thyself, as it must needs be if not from thee, from thy will, thou seeing of him thus good of himself, and therefore a God, wouldst order him to salvation; and then how can he be a God? O into what absurdities, into what everlasting confusions, would not the mad pride of degenerate nature lead us? and all for want of a true through sight of that infinite desparitie between the Creator and the creature, tha● absolute sovereignty that he hath over it, that clear and distinct understanding of his will, its positiveness, privitivenesse, activeness, permissivenesse, etc. it's always justice, holiness, goodness. Can that soul but above all desire, nay desire it as that one only thing, that it might ever dwell in the house, in the presence of God, to behold the beauties of his holiness, and to bless him among his chosen; and yet but say withal, but if he hath no delight in me, here I am, let him do to me as seemeth him good. Os what is it can more assure the soul that it hath seen him, that it shall ever see him; as having chosen that good part, that shall never be taken from it; in whom alone it could learn to humble itself to the death, in the willing fulfilling of a ready obedience to its Fathers will. This is the heart that will not haste after its own inventions, but will wait upon his counsels; that feareth the Lord and dwelleth in his secrets.  

— Marle not my soul  
If wisdom some reserved cases have  
For heaven's Cabinet council; he should save  
Thee never an Heaven, should he fully show  
The mysteries of his state here; here we'd know  
Him fully, and that were heaven indeed. But since  
Thy conversation should be never thence,  
I blame not this thy scrutiny; but would  
Thy gross contempt, if thy remissness should  
Not pry fnr truth as life; and that to see  
Sparkling i'th' loveliest resplendency  
That lights our Hemisphere. The soul in'ts grave  
That's not abroad i'th' Light. Thou't then behave  
Thee wisely when thy Scripture-guided eye  
It's ingenious boldness shall most humbly pry  
Unto the utmost bounds of modesty;  
And there where reason fails let faith supply:  
Till thou shalt see thy faith was rational;  
That skilled thy will to trust Truth over all.  
When thou shalt see all ends fall in together,  
All knit all into one knot no time shall seaver.  
No sooner now I've gotten one, but then  
The others gone, and I'm t' be gone again.  
Then shalt thou know as thou art known, without  
Discourse, at one complete sight, far from doubt.  
Grow then in gracious knowledge now, and so  
More Heaven in more Heaven-like manner know.   

Thy Counsels were not worthy o' Thee great God,  
Were'nt they too deep! Broad! Long! High! f'r me to plod  
Them out to one full intuition; nor  
My love so great, so sweetlyed enforce m'abhor  
M'selfe, cu'd this blessed distraction comprehend  
Thee in my own short arms; till thou shalt send  
Th'enlarging Light and Truth shall end  
This controversy in thee my endless friend.  
Now can't I bring two ends together then  
Two ends to bring together can't I ken.  
Now can't I Mercy and Justice knit in one  
Then see it shall not need for they are one;  
Wrapped up in one Decree, how Thou't express  
Thy uniform sweetness in a divers dress,  
Substantial goodness in a various shade,  
Complete perfection with a Cloud o'erlaid.  
O come then come! When breaks the day  
That breaks these broken shades away!  
The Clouds subjected under our feet,  
Hang over our head, so may we meet  
And greet, may wholly contemplate the face  
That glances here imparted grace.    


SHall faith subscribe to sense? Or sense to faith?  
Poor faithless faith! my eyes, my head, my ears,  
My heart, say they all what they will, Thus saith  
Jehovah; Speak Lord, Now thy servant hears.  
Can't I believe thou art? I'll not believe  
I am. Art good? N'r I bad. But I both believe.   

Thou art, thou a Rewarder art of all  
That diligently seek thee; I have sought,  
Seek, and will seek, thee so. I'll ne'er lined call  
By thought, by word, by deed, till I am brought  
Word otherwise by a messenger of Heaven,  
And then I'll trust but what I have receiven.    

I Would not believe, because I see, feel, hear, etc. but see, hear, etc. because I believe; not have my sense lead my faith, but my faith my sense; because I have a ground for it by revelation by the Word, and not so far believe as I find ground from faith out of sense. If I cannot believe Gods eyes, I will never believe mine own; think all I see, hear, do, as a dream, farther than faith goes along and assures me of it, etc. To receive apprehensions of things as merely presented by the senses, is no more than brutish; by natural reason, no more than humane; but what by supernatural reason by faith, is divine; though indeed that reason be but unreasonableness, farther than it is enlightened by this; farther than it is acquainted with, adheres to, works according to the will of God; The hearty, thorough, active, complete knowledge of the Truth. Now truth is (as I may say) of fundamental necessity to the constituting of a true and stable faith; it being impossible that that which is founded on falsehood should prove other then false and failing: whether concerning persons or things, our condition in general or particular acts. Where the promise, precept, word is not taken aright, the application of the soul to it must needs be amiss; where the ground is mistaken the building mun needs miscarry. Where that's not sound this must sink. Lose and spongy soils may have a firm superficies. Hollow vaults a hard roof. The soul that takes things by the outside is like to go away with outside comforts; that is not penetrating, bottom-searching, inward-looking, is like to fall low for want of looking low. Build then cauteously O my soul, tread warily, take heed of the rashness of fools (Esa. 32.4.) walk accurately, circumspectly, precisely, keep thyself close to thy God, lose not thy hand, thy hold, the least time, the least distance, walk humbly, love him entirely, cleave to him inseparably, follow him at every turn, thou canst never be out of thy way while thou keepest thy way, thy Christ, whom thou shalt only find in his fatheas, who is (who is already) found of all them that seek his face, (not themselves but him) his holiness his glory; who of his just goodness and gracious wisdom, to the manifestation of the power of his light, of his love, hath left thee among so many false lights, fooles-fires, in such a mist in such a night of darkness, among so many misguiding guides like so many false voices in a wilderness. Now to know his from a strangers, now to discern is grace, wisdom, etc. in its richest attire. Resign then thyself to thy Christ to thy God, live by faith in all, and fear not but when thou art gone out of thyself, his spirit shall teach thee, when, what, etc. to see, hear, do, etc. for while thou art with, so fare as thou art with the Creator thou canst not want wisdom how to use the Creature, so as it may be most for his glory, and that is the height of thy wisdom. Certainly so long a we are with him, he will be with us counselling, directing in all our ways. All our miscarriages, ill doing, and ill farings being from our departure from him, our light, life, comfort; so that not only true faith is rational; in believing God beyond and against sense; but true reason is faithful in conversing with God in and thorough sense. And hither I conceive looks those places, I am crucified to the world and the world to me; am dead and this that I live in the (very) flesh (incarnal sensual things, seeing, hearing, talking eating, drinking, commerce, etc.) I live by the faith, live the life, of the son of God. We are dead, and our life is hid with Christ in God. ARe dead, and the spirit that raised up Jesus quickeneth our mortal bodies, the soul of our souls, the life of our lives. Senses spiritualised. Whatsoever is not of faith is sin, etc. Neither can there be any thing pleasing to God but what is done in him in whom only he is well pleased; but what we do in him we do by faith. The nature whereof were we so happy fully to know, we should fully know our own happiness.   


Wisdom gins with ends, makes first its last.  
Not stirs a foot till wary fear forecast  
Unto what good; but good, thence End, 's but One;  
Then do, speak, think an act, till fear hath shown  
Thy faith that kind to come from, lead to, God,  
A sinful folly ' 'tis. Thus, faith will plod.  
he's then the man that's only wise  
That keeps his God before his eyes.  
The head of wisdom's fear, but there  
Are wiseman's eyes, see with their fear.  
His Optic nerves, his moving hence  
Derive their animal influence.    


THings as their principles decay and thrive;  
Th'most dying Christians are the most alive.  
Reduce all ills to sin, all sins to''th' First;  
All goods to grace, all graces unto Christ;  
Then place thyself i'th' midst; and thou shalt see  
How good 'tis in a trembling joy to be.  
While every act, and accident shall show  
Thee thee not thee; ere blest thee so to know.  
Thus shake thee from thyself, and thou shalt find  
How good 'tis to enjoy another's mind.  
Thus shake thee from thyself, and thou shalt see  
How good 'tis in another's life to be.  
While seeing whence and whether brought thoust been,  
Grace shall thee humble make and faithful sin.  
But may this humble faith still acted be.  
Stilled would from sin and sinful sorrow free.    

THere is nothing wherein we are more wanting, then in what we think ourselves least; the grounds and principles of Christianity. What more commonly confessed, than that we are all sinners, children of wrath by nature? More readily professed then that we believe in Christ? that we preferthe will, the glory of God above all, etc. and yet what is it we believe, we do less? What is it is more hard, more excellent? While they are things merely notional, and superficially swimming in the brain, or at most but glide and coast upon the heart, and carry it on in a way of action, so far as pleases ourselves and corrupt nature, the devil lets us run on with the undoubted, uncontraverted conceit that we know them, that we believe them; till they have at length brought us thither where we shall too late be forced to believe & know, that we believed, that we knew them not. But than is it that we meet with the cross winds, the storms, fluctuations, temptations, doubts & questionings, of their certainty, their equity, etc. When they come with that weight upon the soul as to sink into it, to be received and entertained of it into its seriousest and solemnest consideration; when they come with that force and power upon it, as not to Herere inprimis viis, to stay in the common sense, fancy; but to take the judgement, and by that the heart, and by that the whole man, into their possession; that they are not only on the soul, but In it, and it wholly given up to, wholly in these things: when we come to suck sweetness from them, to live upon them, to digest them throughly, to gather strength from them, to draw them forth to practise, to make them such to ourselves as they are in themselves, etc. certainly could we fully understand, firmly believe, cordially affect, and frequently or rather continually actuate these things, what manner of men should we be (O could we experimentally know) in all holiness in all happiness of conversation? we should be Christians fare more in reality than we can be in profession: in substance than we can be in show. It is as impossible for that heart to make the world know what it sindes within itself, as it is (to speak proportionably) to make them know what is heaven. Not the thousandth part of itself is that soul able to discover that hath the powerful workings of these thoughts, these meditations within it; though too they be such whose very nature is to carry forth the soul in the most operative activity.  

The cause once known the cure's half done; the soul,  
(And why not add the body) purged o' this foul  
Distempering humourous faithless pride, thou'rt sound  
Though sin, shame, pain, want, devils beset thee round.  
The man's within, and all's in vain without,  
If he that's hid in Christ will not step out.  
'Tis unbelieving pride, proud faithlesness  
'S the bitter root of all unhappiness.  
Look on the humble-and-beleeving man  
He will be happy do you what you can.  
Below he lies the while he flies above  
Th' great'st evils, and sweets the bitterest in love.  
Still may I Act my God-adoring faith,  
Not hear what sin or sinful sorrow saith.  
Up, up, above I am out of the reach  
Of what in pact in peace will make a breach.  
The cause once known the Cures half done; th' disease  
Exactly ta'en away, the Symptoms cease,  
Being as co-transient as co-incident;  
Faith knows no sin nor humbleness malcontent,  
Perverse and faithless, faithless and perplexed  
'S the combination of the holy Text.  
A generation of perversenesses  
In whom's no faith, no men of blessednesses.  
Were they implanted in my pleasant rivers.  
And sucked th' sweets my All-abounding Name delivers  
Liberal to thirsty souls, cu'd they the while  
Thus feeding run to th' dry and barren soil?  
Cry out for any want but want of care  
To keep them fatting on Angely far?  
To stretch their wider branches to receive  
More of my fullness in more fruitful leaves?  
Happy, happy souls indeed! big with delight!  
Known of and knowing the Lord! what lust my excite  
Him sit, nay stand, nay walk i'th' ways of folly?  
What black event, becloud with melancholy?  
Pure, candid, limpid, quick, pellucid spirits  
Stream from the lively fountain, well demerits  
The honour o'th' parent grace. Why's living man  
(Whose life is joy) so sorrowful? what can  
What reason deject him? man suffers for his sin,  
Which faith not suffering let's no sufferings in.  
For while it comes to God it turns from evil;  
That found this left, why troubled at words of devils?  
(But wary, indigning, simpathizing hearts  
Are Agents in their sweetly-played parts)  
I'll boldly say't if truth say true,  
So fare untoward, so fare a Jew.  
Untoward, froward faith? I can as well  
While melt in love 'gainst love rebel.  
Untoward, froward faith? I can as well  
While bless in heaven, ban in hell.  
Hear then the sum of Christian art,  
Keep faith in all things Acting's part.   

Faith's only where it lives, and where it lives  
'Ts the spirit, the pair of nerves that motion gives  
To every action; the man, the work is dead,  
Is sin, where this is not the heart, the head.    


FOnd man! in those first loins himself unblessed,  
Fled from his nest, could never since find rest.  
Now soars above, now headlong falls below  
That place-uncircumcised Being; O  
That faith would hold me still above my fear,  
And fear below my pride. Durst I presume  
To bless myself, myself unblessed doom?  
Were't thou my fear great God, how soon I'd start,  
Abhor, run fare from this devil swollen heart,  
Aspires thy Throne in envious discontent  
To do its homage to thy regiment.  
My wanton head would it more babels plot  
To reach forbidden fruit? my froward heart not  
Rejoice in all thy wills? my stubborn hand  
Not quickly act thy sovereign commands?  
This head, heart, hand, this all that first would Thee  
Their Maker govern e'er they'd humble be.  
Wert thou my trust, should I still sow the wind,  
And reap the whirlwind? tangle, tear my mind  
With thorny cares? such tireing circuits fetch  
To rake the Mammon makes me more a wretch.  
Contrive a wisdom that thou never taughtst?  
Create Chimeras; flocks of monstrous thoughts,  
Headless conceits, that hold not of thy Christ,  
The head, the whole, where all our worth's comprised.  
Resolve upon an happiness of mine own,  
Though by't my happiness be quite o'er thrown.  
Pitch such an height of learning, unto which  
I will attain, what  come on it, itch  
After vain applause, be eminent or none,  
Have what I will, or else let all alone.  
Silly-proud-childish-obstinate-God-denying else,  
How madly lost when fond sought myself?  
How faithless pride the brainessets on the wracks,  
While fretting grief the heartstrings gnaws and cracks.  
Were God thy aim thy stay this ne'er would need  
HE accepts the doing will for th' willing deed.  
How hard, and yet how easy now I work;  
To please my Saviour saved me from the Turk  
My tireing Tyrant self? expects the tale  
Of toylosome Bricks though time, straw, strength should fail.  
I will be rich, will honours, pleasures have  
Saith self, or else I'll venture on the grave.  
But who pursues these riches, honours, pleasures,  
He knows not Christ his Alsufficient Treasures  
How easy is thy yoke, thy burden light  
When with self, world, devil mandates I them tied?  
The faith that once of God hath got a taste  
Loves not the world so well to fall for haste.  
But takes his time means, measure, manner, kind  
As willinger to be without were so his mind.  
Whose manifold wisdom shows its mighty power  
To keep the soul, whom neither th' golden shower  
O'th' glittering'st goods the cheating world can tender,  
Nor th' bitting'st siege, fiercest shots can make surrender.  
And wherein faith most bravely hath acquitted  
IT self's not told so easily as pertinently omitted  
Since then the evil heart is to departed  
From thee, and to departed from 's the heart  
Of unbelief, put in this faithful fear,  
Then should I still be good, because still here.  
All bliss is in Thy presence, th' evil heart  
'S in evil case cause it will from Thee departed,  
Evil departs, fares ill, and all because  
This fearless unbelief not tends Thy laws  
Stamped on the heart, in golden Characters  
Of ne'er defaced loves, and thence transfers  
Its thoughts to trash, puts forth its hand to folly,  
Th' luscious fares resolved int' adust melancholy,  
Fond fearless faithless man ne'er finds his rest,  
Runs from his mercy lest he should be blest.  
Then let thy fear fall and encompass me,  
From this false world, while faith makes upward fly.  
Thus both made one in love, this faithful fear  
Translates my soul to its celestial Sphere.  
To rest from th' labour, I to''th' utmost do,  
And sing't along 'cause thou wilt bring me through.  
So gives he his beloved rest, sweet sleep,  
Amidst the sprightly est activity dost keep  
My spirits in reposed freshness; while  
Th' world breaks their sleep, head, heart, with vain turmoil   

Work out salvation with a trembling fear.  
Give love its perfect work 'twill cast out fear.  
Th' excrementitious humours thus expelled,  
Th' implanted spirit of faith's communion's held  
The better with the gracious love, that sweetly feeds  
O'th' purer Pabulum of humble deeds.    

1 Joh. 3.9.  

CUd'st thou induce th' proposal t' vouchsafe a touch  
Unto the stateliest to yes, the fairest moil,  
The richest d●●●●gerie? what brave indignationed boil  
In that Heroic breast, while thou shalt see  
The imminent Crown of such an eminency  
Surround thee in a glorious compass hath no end  
Of time nor place? but shouldst thou not intent  
Thy heedy faith but th' glancingst squint-eye lend  
From him to painted lies, how soon thou'dst mend?  
O how thy bowell'sed turn within thee with  
A sweet regret to think thy father seethe.  
Couldst thou now sin? while such a thought ruled in  
Thy princely mind? thou couldst not, couldst not sinne.  
'Tis death to such a one to sin. Nay, death?  
Thou'dst run to death to free thee from this death.  
Live like thyself than Christian, act, act, act,  
Set, keep thy faith on work in every fact.  
In vain's the power that's not produced to act.  
Where what is had, 's not used, what's had is lacked.    


O Leave me not my head! O stint the strife!  
Canst pull my head off? Canst see me so to flutter  
Bustle, and struggle? So labour for my life?  
Dost pleasure in my pain? or hearest me utter  
‛ Blasphemous word? yet with the tender Fowl,  
Or quiet lamb, I'd feign retain my soul.  
My soul Thou art; 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Psal. 31.24. Hold fast  and now I'm ' ready die,  
Canst see me gripe and grasp the , my heart  
Not strength yet? Canst hear me say, I die;  
I die grieved nothing, but with Thee to part,  
Dear friend, dearest husband! and yet thou my death?  
What shall our children do too? O give breath!  
Breath still blest spirit; and while I am alive,  
I'll have a care to see thy graces thrive.    


What sweet repasts when God and hunger meet!  
And stay the hungry soul, whose hunger's sweet.  
How sweet the draughts when God and thirstings meet!  
And stay, not quench, their thirsts whose thirst's so sweet.  
I here's the soul shall eat, drink, once for all,  
When want of praise no more for prayer shall.  
Oh cu'd I praise! what need I pray?  
But I shall praise, shall praise for aye.  
That's my only work both here and there.  
What is no praise, can be no prayer.    


I'M dull, I'm dull with this my clod.  
O breath these earth-rejecting veins, and make  
Them full with praise of purer worth.   

I'm full, I'm full of Thee my God.  
O breath my blessing-turgent veins and make  
Them run them spring Thy praises forth.   

Wind up my soul to those Seraphic strains,  
Wherewith that noble Choir entertains  
Their farre-above all praise-exalted Maker,  
That joys in this that thou art his partaker.  
Whose joy's his glory, glory will, will thine,  
Thine his will-pleased joy, his glory thine.  
Who only happy will not happy be,  
Unless thee as himself he happy see,  
I tremble; and this shaking gives a grace  
Unto my singing voice. What? This my place?  
I tremble; and this shaking opes my pores,  
And thrusts my sluggish humours out of doors.  
I tremble; and this shaking makes me catch  
My God more fast, in h's faster folds doth catch.  
I tremble; and this shaking clears my wings,  
Rouses my spirits, up the speedier brings  
To sit among the gods; t'exalt the name  
That deigns to Christian creatures by the same.  
To sit among the gods, to give receive  
Eternal blessings; thus to interweave  
My joy inseparably with his glory.  
Be all my pleasures hushed with this story.  
Admire! Let this still music still my grief,  
Till sense supply what's wanting in belief.  
For carnal sense is not so fare below  
My faith, but spiritual may overflow.  
To pour out mutual blessings, and to be  
Most blessed by my blessing; so to see,  
It is more blessed to give then to receive;  
Honoured by him all honour with him leave.  
To power out mutual blessings, whilst I lie  
Drowned in the fountain; where no sooner I  
Cry blessed, but my blessing straight redounds  
With millions to my breast; and heaven resounds  
With Echoed praises of those beauteous creatures,  
Are all in love with one another's features.  
Spirits spiritualised, rarifide to such  
Sublimed simplicity, there's not so much  
As th' smallest speck of dust, the Atom'st moat,  
With 'tis interposed obscurity to float  
Betwixt their light and beauty, God and them.  
Their every-way-surrounding glorious stem.  
I tremble; and this shaking gives a grace  
Unto my singing voice; is this my place?  
I hear eternity speak, and say I love  
Thee as myself whom no affections move?  
I'll be thy crown of everlasting glory,  
While thou shalt banquet on the endless story  
Of all my counsels, and survey the depths,  
Height, breadths, lengths of my er'st-untracted steps:  
While thou shalt hear my thwarting feet agree,  
I'th' perfectest set o'th' pleasantest melody.  
While still perfused i' the richest savours  
The art fed with kisses  refreshing favours.  
Still lost in admiration of thy bliss,  
Thou't find so blessed 'cause s'admired it is.  
Well, if the master of the feast shall say,  
Friend sit up here, shall I dare disobey?  
God knows no compl'ments; he's sincerity,  
A word's enough where all's reality.  
Mount, mount my soul, and keep upon the wing;  
Jehovah see, and Hallelujah sing.  
O How my soul's inheavened in the sound,  
That descants on so beautiful a ground;  
See eye, love heart, sing glory, and all accord  
To make my life the music of my Lord.  
Rejoice my spirits, and all my thoughts within  
Ride triumph with the speedy Cherubin.  
While death and hell attend my conquering Car,  
Whose glory duskes the brightest glizning Star.  
The brightest Sun, in all his Summer's pride  
'S a cloud of darkness when together eyed.  
Thanks! thanks my soul, for when my soul sings thanks,  
Then, only then, my joy o'er flows its banks.  
Praise! praise my spirit, for while my spirit sings praise,  
Then, only then, I wear the crowning bays.  
Bless! bless my heart, for when my heart sings bless,  
Then, only then, my heart feels blessedness.  
Heart, soul, spirit, spirit, heart, soul, zeal, fire,  
Break, breath, burn, blaze, and in his breast expire.  
Earth hold me not, O opinion me no more,  
When shall I be whence I shall be no more?  
Still hold me earth; for heaven would be no heaven,  
Should not my will keep time, and fall in even  
With his. O could I bless thee here! here were  
My heaven; but want both heart and art; how ere  
 hold; while some want matter for their words,  
I words f'r Immatteriatnesse; yet like the tender Birds,  
That in the silent shadow sit forlorn,  
Bill, dress their feathers by the dawning morn,  
Stand perking, pearing in the blooming Sun,  
And teach their light-delighted tongues to run  
Their chirping welcomes to its glorious rays;  
So do I strive to chatter forth Thy praise.  
Praise, praise him soul, I'll never cease to praise;  
And when I cry, I'll cry I cannot praise.  
Why sorry, but for sin? 'tis folly, why  
For sin but that unthankful praiselesse I?  
Praise my petitions, praise him my confessions,  
Praise deprecations, praise him intercessions.  
And if my tongue cease praise in griefs and fears,  
I'll make my tongue recant in praising tears.  
In every thing give thanks, for 'tis his will  
That gives me cause to sing, 'tis well 'tis ill.  
O praise, praise, praise! let me no longer live  
Then do my master's business praises give.  
Nay life is praise; for than I truly live  
When joy, then truly joy when praises give.  
The life is best's most like the life above;  
Hence I so much Psalme-singing tempers love.  
The man is best comes nearest to his End,  
Hence I so God-commending men commend.  
And should I knit a series of the longest,  
The sad'st complaints, combined with the strongest,  
Pressingst agr'vations, that might wring them close  
And hard on th' soul; yet praising love breaks lose  
Through all, and makes me sing, again and again,  
Blessed be the Lord for evermore Amen.  
Then shouldst withdraw thee, and I grow feeble, weak  
Yet let my heart have strength enough to speak  
Thy praises (—) O give me strength enough  
To bless my strength, and I have strength enough.  
Should my thanksgiving-force decline, decay  
Unto the low'st; still may I see and say,  
Thou hast a Seed a Generation, they  
‛ L be ever speaking of thy praise, I'll lay  
My heart unto their mouth, and while they play  
Their heaven-learned descanting, I'll play  
The plainsong of a broken contrite heart,  
I'th' ears of Heaven plays the pleasantest part.  
Th' still, soft, sweet Music; inward-sounding drone,  
W'thout which the loudest, highest, nimblest tongued is none.  
Is worse than none, a groundless, frantic din,  
A selfe-exalting, God-assaulting sin.  
Provokes his mocked patience, while the zeal  
'S not pitched by humility, it doth but squeak and squeale.  
But, thine cannot be overwound, for they  
While at the highest with the lowest play.  
Rise humbled soul, and praise him in the highest,  
To which thou art advanced in thy Christ.  
O praise! praise! praise! let me not praises give,  
But give myself to praises, praising live,  
Die, sink, overwhelmed, swallowed up, lost, found  
Upon the shore of ever-praysing ground.  
O how my soul's afloat and smoothly glides  
Unto the harbour where my bliss abides!  
And what a calm serenity befriends  
The plimmed sails thy spirit swiftly sends  
Fleeting along with speedy nimbleness  
To th' pleasant Haven of their happiness.  
O praise! praise him, for he is worthy praise,  
That was before, and is beyond all days.  
Praise him, wh' in heaven and earth doth what he will,  
And whatsoever he will not do is ill.  
O praise praise him for he is worthy praise;  
Could th' mighty Fabric o'th' creation raise  
From nothing, with a word; and govern it,  
Consisting of a kind of infinite  
Variety of individuals in such measure,  
Weight, number, as that in all he'd take his pleasure.  
In such a wide, a  disparity,  
Of motions, a perfect contrariety,  
So full! so sweet! so choice a consort played!  
All honour, glory, power to him that made  
All for his pleasure. And was I made to be  
Thy pleasure, mighty God? what couldst thou see  
To please thyself, besides thyself, in me?  
O screw me up to that celestial tone  
Whereby thy highest-raised Saints are known;  
To bless thee for thyself, though bathed in blood;  
How e'er I be, to sing, yet thou art good.  
Yet thou art good how e'er I be, or do.  
Do I or no, thy works thy praises show.  
Still thou art good, art good, should all the world  
But like a tinie-tennis ball be twirled,  
Tossed topsie turvey, whirled up and down,  
Until 'twere worn to mammocks; still the crown  
'S as fast upon thy head as ever; still renown  
As due to thee as ever; all th' creatures still  
Make music, even the wickedest though 'gainst their will.  
Sun, Moon, Stars. Heavens, Floods, Earth, Fire, Snow, Harle Wind,  
Praise him, for praise is to fulfil his mind.  
Deeps, Dragons, Mountains, Dales, Beast, Birds, Trees, Hills,  
Praise him, for praise is to fulfil his wills.  
Men, Angels, all his Hosts, one breath conspire  
To praise, for praise doth all he doth require.  
My gentle Lute with thy soft touches praise,  
Praise him my sollemne-sounding viol, praise  
My spirit-exciting dance, my nimble song,  
Praise. Bed stay, my longer-exercised tongue  
MY outrun my heart, but most in running long.  
Run, run then heart and overtake my tongue;  
Run, run apace, redeem thy thankless years,  
And bathe their memory in thy blessing tears.  
Run, run apace; for thou hast more to say  
Then all the tongues of men and Angels may.  
Run, run apace, eternity is at hand  
When stinting time no more shall praise withstand.  
Time? nay myself, for what-so  I do,  
I may make that sing thankful praises too.  
My meat, my drink, my talk, my work, my sleep,  
May all in this Commune. Concord keep,  
An uniform well-ordered conversation  
Close to the rule that leads unto salvation.  
I here is praise indeed, in Deed to praise;  
And make my life to sing away my days.  
So match my living, that my praisings mayn't  
Be Pearls on Swine, but Jewels on a Saint.  
So match my living, that my praisings may  
Be stars on Azure, and turn night to day.  
And light the world to those supreme ascents  
Where dwells the Eternal Substance of contens.  
Here shall I safely ever sit and sing,  
My soul rejoiceth In my Saviour King.  
O what a twitch this In doth give my spirit?  
And screws it up fare fare beyond my spirit?  
My soul's In God, In God my Saviour  
My soul is safe, and fears not the behaviour  
Of this nor th'other world. My soul's at ease  
In God my Saviour; my soul doth please  
Itself In him, my pleasures meet in one,  
My joy is full, my joy is overflown,  
And knows no bounds, while thus my diving soul,  
Environed with infinity doth roll  
Me all In all, and I am in my God  
As In my Element; while they are odd,  
And Hetrogeneous that are in, not of,  
Leave, breath, have being in him, and yet are off,  
Stand at th' farth'st distance deadliest defiance,  
Are breathless liveless have no wellbeing, 'cause no alliance.  
O who wed not love thee! fear thee! praise thee Lord!  
Whose just-wise-holy ways such marv'ls afford!  
Who can but lose himself in blessed blessing wonder  
I'th' All-container! So nigh so fare asunder!  
As creatures in, but not, as not renewed;  
Degenerate peccant humours, that are spewed  
From's mouth. Are rather On then In; but we  
Are heart in heart, unto eternity.  
Not as the water in the vessel; but  
As water turned to th' wine wherein 'tis put.  
So are we one in one, right blessed turn?  
That gives such strength, life, spirits, while Thou't run  
As unallayed to thousand generations  
Made happy in this iminutable mutation.  
Change, change apace my soul, power out thyself  
The best is last, when thou art all himself.  
Though not all of himself; whose infinite sweet  
In every point of timeless time,  
And boundless bounds doth meet,  
Himself made Thine.   

tremble; and this shaking makes me catch  
●ly hold more fast, in h's faster folds doth catch.  
●e? what am I thou shouldst vouchsafe to hear  
●y praises? mine? but, for to give an ear!  
Oh! that's to give thine heart, thine hand, thine all,  
Who hast no part more or less principal.  
Who hast no part at all; but wholly art  
●h' possession o'th' selfe-dispossed heart.  
●ine? cud'st ned have made a child of any stone  
To bed thy bosom? but must I be one?  
〈◊〉! stonier I! rebelled against thy grace,  
And spat my venom in thy sacred face!  
What saw'st in me to have me in thy thoughts  
Of life, the world's foundation yet unwrought?  
Must I be one! how sweet a trembling joy  
Runs through my veins? and kindly doth employ  
Me in a fearful love? must I be one?  
●e then be Thine should all the world be none.  
●! I be one! I'll then be none alone,  
But I'll be thine, should all the world be none.  
O bless! bless! bless my soul! still bless thy Bliss.  
What sweeter work unto my soul than this?  
Or what more acceptable unto thee?  
Thou lovest it, and I love it, than ever be  
Thou blest of ever-ever-blessing me,  
Of ever blessing me, ever blessed be.  
O bless! when would I cease? when thou shalt cease  
To be; then, not till than I'd blessing cease.  
O bless! were I in Hell yet cud I bless  
I were in heaven; but I cannot bless.  
I cannot, cannot bless; is this to bless?  
To call thee blessed? while think nothing less?  
Or can I think I think it while not part  
With all for Thee, Thou only blessed? while my hear●  
'S not wholly given up into thine hands,  
T' be melted, moulded, fashned by thy commands?  
T' be cast into a full conformity  
With thee, if thought Thee th' sole felicity.  
Blessed art thou O Lord! th' art good and  
Dost good, no unaccustomed song, but stand  
Not deeds, thoughts, words at mutual defiance?  
Thought I't, would not there be a quick compliance  
With all thy wills? would not I hast to know,  
Press hard to learn thy statutes? th' ways thou'lt go  
To meet with Thine, thou only blessed goodness?  
Vvued not I still be in thy presence? Oh! th' woodness?  
Th' wild wand'ring madness, hath seduced my soul  
Since first I turned my back upon Thee, to proule  
And filch an independent blessedness, whence grew  
My aye-depending misery, while fond threw  
Me from my Eden, where the all-creating spirit  
Vvalkeed with his fleshy workmanship. But wilt blest spirit  
Return again? and be Emmanuell?  
Vvued teach my heart to call Thee good? would dwell  
There? make it thy temple? hence help me breath petitions?  
I see thy go here? th' glorious exhibitions  
Of the invisible? flesh spirit! God man! heaven earth!  
A marriage song of everlasting mirth.  
And must I sing ' t! who since thou took'st me in,  
And trim'st we for thyself, weedest my sin,  
●lantedst thy grace, the door wide open hurled  
And made my heart the through fair of the world,  
Thou mad'st thy garden! this then the pulley be,  
With greater swing to clap me close to Thee.  
The pulley be to make me stick so close,  
The greatest pull may never make me lose.  
But when I hear the stillest voice behind,  
And hear it eccoed by thy written mind  
●ay, thy beloved's hear, straight open I fly,  
And blest who knows what meaneth He and I.  
This opening shuts me in the fastest close  
While in h's revealed loves myself I lose.  
O how this smiling favour quite prevails!  
dissolves me all in tears! and than exhales  
● ' ascending soul to that refining Sun,  
Resolves me into itself. O turn heart turn,  
And never never teturne. Thus is begun,  
Consummate glory when I'm all undone.  
Undo, undo apace, dissolve, melt, run,  
Thy only undoing is th' art not undone.  
Draw out, shed, shed abroad thyself in praises,  
Leave not a drop behind, let all turn praises.  
But what am I thou shouldst put such a thing  
Into my heart, so cordially to sing  
The glories of the God 'gainst whom I have been  
A constant belcher of blaspheming sin!  
What thought I, spoke I, did I, but in all  
My cursed life did Thee accursed call!  
And must I bless! I bless! Shall I sink? O!  
Hold me! Hold me in this blessed pleasure. So,  
So may I over sink and sing! how sweet  
Sweet sound the praises in these depths! O meet,  
Meet me a diving; plundering through my heart  
'S false-bottome, through whatsoever would part  
Me from Thee. Catch me in those lasting arms,  
Whose closings are a close of warbled charms.  
Charms warble still; and shake me up and down,  
Until you rest me with my fixed Crown.  
Rest warble still; for still this is my rest,  
To see to sing my worthl●snesse so blest.  
Blessed spirit shake, shake on, loosen my soul  
From this false world; break down, bear through the foul  
False bottom of my heart, still more to meet  
With truth i'th' inward parts; still more to greet  
Those peace-heaven-sounding wellcommings; those sure  
And never-over-burthened arms; those pure  
Those pure embraces, whose harmonious close  
Shall bless my blessing soul with full repose.  
Thus may my rising falling heart in praying praise,  
My falling rising heart, sing on my days.  
Steadfast in joys discoursing that vast distance  
That's swallowed up in an unite persistance.    


And wilt thou me forsake?  
Just now I saw thee. Oh draw, faineed overtake.  
Cud, cud I but believe.  
Were I in Hell, yet should I nothing grieve.  
I wait, trust, walk with thee.  
Revive, in peace, shall ne'er confounded be.    


REtire sad thoughts into your inmost Cells,  
There view the Hell of Hells,  
Thy sinne-fouled soul.  
In black flames howl  
Those never-lightned hearts,  
Wh'in this their day ha' ned done their studious parts  
In their false purifying, while hope  
Hath Judah's fountain door kept open.   

Return glad thoughts and mount the utmost bounds  
O'th' boundless heavens. There's he.  
Yea he is here,  
The word is near.  
And hence my joy redounds,  
To see the Ruddy White in him and me.  
The watery blood so pure, so just,  
To white, to quench my pithy lust.    


—  
Hung all these Puritans.  
A Puritan, what's that? an Hypocrite.  
Nay hold there man, for so thou dost but fit  
The noose for thine own neck. Dost ned thou profess  
The service, fear of God? yet what dost less?  
From thine own mouth th' unrighteous servant th' art:  
Condemned for a Puritan; would thou wert  
So happy t' own the honour of the name,  
Who that description canst not but disolaime.  
And say he is no Hypocrite; then sincere;  
I there it is, the object of thy jeer.  
— I tell thee man,  
Thou art an Atheist or a Puritan.  
Within my heart the wicked's wickedness cries,  
There is no fear of God before his eyes.  
Within his heart the fool hath madly said  
There is no God, why should I be afraid.  
Selfe-cozening soul, didst see the curious eye  
Thy bosom thoughts did at a distance prie,  
How dared thy fond affections say within,  
There is no God for speculative sin.  
So, say there is no God: for he's his name,  
Whose vengeance tears the tearers of the same;  
Heart-searching and sinne-visiting he is,  
Deny it and deny thy eternal bliss.  
Canst count thy pastime-words but passing wind?  
Thy irreforming tongue shall shortly find  
A word no scruple; but a tun of lead  
To sink thy soul to an Infernal dread.  
Then shalt thou see each minute on the score,  
What thought, spoke, acted, while thou shalt implore  
That great tribunal, with Lord, Lord, for all  
Thou'st done i'th'flesh, though minced ne'er so small.  
Presumptuous wretch! thou'dst, thought'st there were a God,  
Run trembling up and down at every nod.  
What art thou to the world, that's but a drop  
A dust to Him, that makes the mountains hop,  
And skip like Lambekins, with his Earthquak hand.  
But thou'lt go fair and soft, though he command  
Thee fly, (for so doth love) He who grasps the winds  
I'th' hollow of his hand; the swelling Ocean binds  
Up with a word; here, just here stay thy waves.  
But lawless man how proudly he behaves  
Himself? he stinted? he a strict, precise  
Fool? no, for he that is, is only wise.  
Call'st him thy Master while thou canst expect  
To have thy servant show thee more respect?  
Thou't bid him come, and go and stay, and so,  
He must; bids God? thou answerest Him, thou'lt go,  
Thou't come, thou'lt stay, when, where he will; provided  
His will fall in with thine; but if divided,  
thou'rt not so silly a Puritan to displease  
Thyself for him; but He must serve thy ease.  
Or if thou partest with't, 'tis but with less, for more,  
T' avoid what's endless tak'st what's quickly o'er.  
So still thyself's thy end, thy God. O what  
'S the worm a doing that assaults its God  
Whose every word is pure. All linked together,  
And woe t'him dares the least, he all doth, sever.  
Every word of God is pure; and woe t' him dare,  
Make them their jeer that make it all their care.  
The pure-in-heart see Him-their Purity;  
Th' impure their place; who them-Him vilify.  
O what's the worm a doing? how every bone  
'S an Aspen leaf? to see it climb the Throne  
Whose footestooles all the kingdoms of the world!  
By whom such station-quitting spirits were hurled  
To that unbottomed pit; prepared is  
For all such enviers; Whose vexations this,  
They ne'er shall see what they are vexed to see,  
Men truly Holy only Happy be.  
Poor childish fools! would have they know not what,  
Heaven they would have, but Heaven they would not.  
Cry out, brawl, fight with all that won't confess  
It theirs, yet when they see't love nothing less.  
Through th' morrall-vertue-swept yard, through the porch  
Bedecked with formal duties, may approach  
To th' very door; but they're too good to knock,  
To wait; and if th' least glimpse slip through the lock,  
These light-abhorring Owls wink, wish their loss;  
If heaven be purity, they'd rather their dross  
E're-scorching ne're-consuming flames inherit,  
Then pass the fire o' th' purifying spirit,  
Indeed what wouldst thou there? Heavened be but thy  
Hell. What wouldst thou see, who here dost shut thine eye  
Against the God-revealing light! and open  
Thy mouth? or, 's this thy purifying hope?  
Accursed cur that barkest at the Moon  
That but reflects, how wilt against the Sun?  
Or what wouldst hear? a crew of simple Saints  
With just such puritanicke Angels chants.  
They'll never ha' done, ne'er linne their singing Psalms,  
Unto their God for their victorious palms,  
None 's still; or thinke'st while thou wind'st up thy dull,  
Thy jarring heart, thou'lt make to wait so full  
A set of fore-well-tuned instruments,  
Jumps all in one completer of concents,  
Contents God? while bless that dreadfull-joyfull name  
That brought their blessed minds in heavenly frame.  
I tell thee man.  
Thou art a Pagan or a Puritan.  
Thou may'st a Jesus, but didst Jesus know,  
These Hell-devised revile darest thou throw  
Upon, nay thou wouldst be, his Image; did  
Thy faith once see him, whom thy God hath hid  
From blinded eyes while with an airy name  
He lulls thee dead asleep, to wake in flame.  
But Christ is life; and so he is to all  
Whom he shall with h's talitha cumi call.  
A virtual, power-exhibiting command  
Rears thee a virgin; on new resolves to stand.  
To walk the way of his Commandment,  
To keep thee true, loyal, chaste, pure, innocent.  
From selfe-world-devill pollutions; all for Him,  
And so thou wouldst didst thou believe in Him.  
Some fancied I doll of thy wanton brain,  
That will thee in thy minnion-lusts maintain;  
Will wink at smaller faults; no great ado  
Will make, shouldst harbour some few grosser too.  
Will let thee vaunt it in thy pride, and gad  
About thy eye's and flesh's lust, be glad  
O'th' dregs of spirit-exhausted loves, the leave  
O'th' marrow-sucking world, the sad bequeathing  
O'th' banckrupt-soule, now hurried out of doors  
To pay the debts of ' ●s ne'r-acquittable scores.  
I here's thy Jesus; presumptuous-desperate wretch  
Darest from that sovereign name such venom fetch  
To kill thy soul; but for that spotless Lamb;  
Who so his own to metamorphize came,  
To teach them by a secret sympathy  
To follow what by occult quality  
He makes them know, his from a stranger's voice;  
To make them run unto the breast so choice,  
And with their bleating rhetoric bespeak  
Th' simple milk that makes them strong of weak.  
To teach them keep his undefiled steps;  
Not dare to tread awry for each-hand deaths;  
At's first smallest, stillest whistle straight to come;  
To stand before their Coate-bereavers dumb;  
To watch the Wolves come clothed in their skin,  
The light-like Angel, selfe-deceiving sin;  
To graze no pasture but His wholesome word;  
To fetch no salve but what his side affords.  
To become silly that he might make them wise,  
T' abase themselves he might them highly prise;  
Not live t' themselves; but Him an'th'common good;  
And when he calls to meekly shed their blood.  
I here's my Christ; of whom thou art afraid  
To have too much; lest so thou shouldst be made  
To be too wise, pure, just, too fare from hell;  
For fear of Heaven fearest to do too well.  
Nor carest indeed for this nor that; Earth, earth  
Is thy dear home of sinne-rejoycing mirth.  
But if must needs away, thou'rt more content  
To be where Angels sing, than devil's torment.  
And yet wert there, thou'dst be tormented with  
Their singing. Lo whither brought by thy belief.  
Cud'st thus believe didst thou believe him just  
And faithful in his say? away thou'dst thrust  
Thy heavenly joy-prevaricating lust.  
There is a faith that doth not love to trust.  
Nor Christ to trust that faith; who sees the heart  
Him never saw with all for him l'not part.  
Canst thou pursue thy honour, pleasure, gain,  
And not believe all this belief's in vain?  
Thou'dst hate, loathe, friends, self, All, didst ever know  
But what it meant to have a God to woo.  
Thou'dst do, suffer, come, run, fly, didst ever prove  
The powerful sweet of all-commanding love.  
Thou'dst live, die, by, for, love, didst ever spy  
The feasting beauties of that lively eye.  
Poor soul! for ever past my pity, if on  
Thou hold'st thy course. I know you not, be gone  
Thou wicked worker; thou never livd'st above;  
For what acquaintance? Thou my love? my dove?  
My undefiled loving dove? what thou  
Sat billing moaning with me? flyed'st thou  
To th' purest houses of my spirits resort?  
Thou my friend? my Spouse? we walk and talk? we sport  
Ourselves in hidden loves? Thou careful how  
To keep me as thy life? And absent, how  
To take the speediest ways to find me? Thou  
In a sweet trembling at a syllable? Thou  
Unlade thy bosom secrets in my breast?  
Thence Counsels furnish? take thee to my rest?  
Thou jealous of mine honour? did Thy thoughts  
Run on my beauty's day and night, that nought  
Cud please thee else? thy feet i'th' pleasant ways  
Of my commands? didst count them so? How says saith  
Thy heart, and they? is this thy holy faith?  
Clean fear? God 'ndwelling love! Now, now what saith  
Thy conscience? Did thy heart ere feel a dagger? & yet  
Survive the thorough-strucken wound? and yet  
Thy-heart-still-killing smart survive the hope  
Of Cure? this daggers it kills heart and hope,  
With minute mortal stabs of quick despair,  
Myriad of endless living die are.  
— I tell thee man,  
The art not a man, or art a Puritan.  
A beast, a dog, a hog, a what-he-will,  
Whose Jesu-countermands thy lusts fulfil.  
— I tell thee man,  
Thou art a Devil or a Puritan.  
There are but two unelimentary spirits,  
Good, bad, God, the devil; and justly he demerits  
T'be counted th'latter who'll not be the first.  
Who scoffs at th' blessed spirit to be th' accursed.  
Bad in th' extreme, who would be i'th' means  
Of absolute good; who would no nearer come  
To God then needs, t'be cast i'th' farthest room  
Of utmost darkness, there to learn too late  
Th' remotest distance of the middle state  
Of wilful neutralists, a semblance make  
Of friends to heaven when Tophets part they take.    


HOw now mad spark! what? pride thee in thy wit?  
When pride's the Principle folly? and what is it?  
What is thy wit, when it is at the best.  
And worth the name? but judgement neatly dressed?  
The wit that's made the judgements recreation,  
This play the ground while that the variation.  
That made the sauce unto a weaker brain,  
That else would of the stronger meat complain.  
And what is judgement but a childish thought,  
When to the full'st maturity 'tis brought?  
What all our parts, but parts? and those received?  
And in a moment may be quite bereaved.  
The best are bad; for else they never cu'd  
Be ta'en away; but are th' parts of that good?  
That only good, complete? then not our own.  
So than who hath th' great'st, the best, hath none;  
But what in Him; but what in Him we see,  
We see't, we feel't in humbling humility.    


Well, say thou saidst, thou thought'st it were somewhat well?  
Why not confess his gracious gifts, as free  
As of th' ungracious retributions tell?  
By that, that humbly thankful thou mayst be,  
By this thankfully humble; be sincere,  
Nor shame nor praises needest thou then so fear.    


I Have sat down, and council held;  
I cannot fight I cannot build;  
And yet I can't but fight and build.  
The war, the building's great;  
Great wants do threat.  
My strength my stock is small,  
Is none at all.  
What shall I do? I'll do thy word;  
A Tool in this, that hand a sword.  
My Christ will help, and wealth afford.  
My strength my stock's not small;  
For they are all.  
The building war shall thrive,  
While he's alive.  
Here then I'll minutely repair;  
Nay hence not budge a foot, my care  
‛ Sonl' he who ' hs life so freelyed spare  
Me, and I not fetched, but spare  
Such gainful care?  
Such life, such strength whereby  
'Tis I am I?  
Ungrateful sloth had rather fall, and die,  
Then stretch his bosomed hand to ' th' life so nigh!    


THe world's uncertain, and my knowledge too;  
But I desire to be certified  
Of nothing, but Christ and him crucified.  
Christ, from this head, all goods all grace convey;  
And on him crucified all ills, sins lay.  
So see my all, while see my Christ:  
My evils on, my goods in Christ.  
So has my foot a sure place,  
Nor will I longer wand'ring trace  
The world, to find a settling stay,  
For I have one, and that's my way.    


War, peace; life, death; A harbour and a shelf.  
The death of death. The Image of himself.  
Th' omnipotent Prophet and the Priestly King,  
That Learned Obedience by his Suffering.  
A sacrificing sacrifice. Simplicity  
Lodged in a house of clay. Omnipotency  
Sensible of humane frailties. The Lord of life  
Slain. The God of glory undergoing the strife  
Of vilifying tongues. The administrator  
Of heaven and earth administered to, th' Creator  
Poor, relieved by th' Creature. Eternal happiness  
Afflicted!—! stupendious godliness!  
Great mystery! and they that think it small,  
As do all worldlings, they know nought of all.  
God manifest i'th' flesh! heaven dwell in earth!  
Descend in hell! O how divines my mirth  
When I can in my flesh my earth my hell  
See Him! See in my flesh my earth my hell  
This spirit this heaven. O spiritualise me more,  
Him more t' approve whom Angels so explore!  
Adore! A God poor heathen gospels; th' God to whom  
The sensual sense-refined world doth come,  
Drawn by believing hearts. Unbonnded glory  
Caught up to glory! what created oratory  
Can reach, can teach these wonders so sublime!  
Profound! Th' celestial theme of timeless time.  
How humble should I be cu'd I still bow  
Myself to pry into this mystery! How  
Heighthned, enlarged, cu'd I still soar aloft!  
In this so broad, so long, deep-heighth t' be taught.    


Gen. 1.31. 2 Cor. 3.18.  
THou Lord mad'st only good my object be;  
'Tis only good than I should see.  
But I would ill, and ill now only see,  
'Tis only sin than I'd not be.  
But I'd be Christ; when shall I only be?  
'tis only God than I shall see.  
Thou Lord mad'st only good my object be,  
'Tis only good than I should see.  
But I would ill, and ill now only see.  
'Tis only I, then I'd not be.  
But I'd be thee, when shall I only be,  
'Tis only thee then I shall see.   

thou'rt only good and I would see  
All but as spots to draughts of Thee.  
All but as spots to draughts of Thee  
Who art the only good I see.   

The world's the Image of thy Image word,  
The mire sin, that Satan blurred  
Man with, the stain straight through th'Creation crept,  
But this untouched himself hath kept;  
And h's glorious-face-resplendent glass hath left  
To daily dress me, quite bereft  
Of sight by that foul filth; His Spirits breath  
Upon this Mirror quicks my death  
Struck-eyes. And now since such a foulness in  
My fairest I see, I'll never lin  
To eye, to pry, to dress, redress me by  
This God-conforming Theory.    


Why should I envy grace? insult o'er sin?  
Are not the Saints sins mine? my graces theirs?  
All sin's's in one, in one all grace, we in  
Them both: he only well himself compares,  
Whose humble, thankful, watchful soul makes true,  
One flesh one spirit, one Adam old and new.    


THou art. Thou only art. Man's but a But,  
An adj'ctive, accident, a what-Thou-wut,  
Thou art, art only excellent; to be  
'Tis that, 'tis that's the only excellency.  
Be't all my business, t' get more thou  
That being more Thee I may more be.  
More be in, more to be  
To Thee.    


Pass world along, with all thy pompous train.  
Go ruffling in thy pride, thy richest show;  
Drawn in Thy stateliest Chariot; thou'rt too low,  
Too base an object for my high disdain.   

Contemn the world? I would, were't worth contempt.  
Or give my indignation footing, or  
On what shalt trample? tell me of somewhat for  
My vilifying? or how w'lt cause more contempt, then tempt?  
All th' world is less than nothing, none is, but  
Who is I Am; and by whom every thing  
Is what it is; they be not then rich that bring  
Th' world in possession; since when 'tis got 'tis not.    


I De have the World at will And yet I care  
No more for't then to buy me food and freeze.  
I de have't th' obedient tool, I de make to rear  
My building soul; and when my Master sees  
It meet, lay't by, and take me to my hands,  
Faith freer works the less the sense withstands.   

And this is all I care for th' careful world,  
To keep it by my hand, and from my heart.  
To have it an inferior help, away to hurleed  
When told here is a work of curious art,  
Derides the bunglings of unskilful sense;  
A heaven-silenc'st active patience.    


THe World's a straw, through which I draw  
My Canaan-milke's sweet nourishment.  
But if't be ta'en away, I gain  
The wider draughts of deep content.   

While he thinks fit, I'll suck through it;  
But if he speak but half a word,  
A way it goes, and well he throws  
That hath i'th' steed such store conferred.    


DId not I fear Thee Lord,  
The world hath not the cord  
Could bind this strong desire  
From what it doth require.  
So vehement yet so stayed  
'S the motion 'tis not afraid  
Of Hell. Only thy Love  
Maintains the fight, and proves  
Of power to withhold  
What else were uncontrol'd.  
And yet the fight is sore,  
And yet I can't give over.  
O were I not so free  
Or had more liberty.  
And yet if neither must,  
thou'rt very good and just.  
Even this too is for good,  
The more the self's withstood  
The more the spirit is  
That crowns with victories.   

Good, very good are all thy ways  
Thou only wise, and he who stays  
His marking mind thereon, shall know  
What loving kindness thou dost show.    


THou heart-rein-searching, spirit-pondering God,  
Turn mine eyes inward, teach my head to plod;  
To look to what thou look'st, the main, the man,  
The soul, the self; for when I gadding ran  
So oft abroad, the devil he got him home  
And made my wanton heart the teeming womb  
Of stolen pleasure; stole th' word and sowed instead,  
A world of tares a world of grief do breed.  
Still may I watch, my yessell keep sincere;  
Th'infusion else corrupts though ne'er so clear.  
And yet if thou dear God wilt please to come  
Into my heart, my heart'l sincere become,  
Tho' ne'er so foul. And long'nough may it contrive  
Ways how to cleanse it, and to th' utmost strive,  
And all in vain; unless that foulness cu'd  
Make fair. My sorrows, watch, cares, what good  
Can all from him who of himself is all  
Pollution? Vvued hear the humble call?  
O come, come, come away and do not stay  
Until thou comest, and then for ever stay.  
Sure there is somewhat of thee here, so longs  
To see thee, while my spirits in such throngs  
Come forth to welcome thee: nay ant I all  
Lovely in my Christ unto thy sight? yet shall  
My black abide? still will I sweetly groan  
To hast thy coming till I'm to mine own.  
Then come blest day, come, inside outside turn,  
And try each thought by th' all discerning Sun.  
How humbly then sincerity shall smile!  
When proud Hipocrisies unpainted guile  
Shall show her devill-like face! More humble were  
I, I must needs become the more sincere.  
'Cause I have more o'th' God-of-puritie  
Sincerity, holiness; and while I spy  
More beauteous glories, th' obstacles more removed,  
He needs must be more humbly beloved.    


Pour out the precious ointment of thy name,  
That sumptuous box enriched with all's divine,  
Upon my wounded soul, so heal the same.  
Allay its dolours, make its surface shine,  
Smooth 'tis rigor's, clear its rust, soften its hard,  
Make dulness nimble, mend what pride hath marred.   

Perfume the room thy guests doth entertain,  
Freeed from those brimstone fumes, o'ne overcame  
My tender Virgin-thoughts, had not I ta'en  
A scent of life to life; so aptly came  
With rescuing redolencies, O open it wide,  
Pour't freely forth, thou hast enough beside.   

O how these welcome Savours steal my heart!  
And make me shrug for joy at this depart!  
O how this pawn e'en makes me wish more hearts,  
That I might feel such more desired departs.  
O how I love these sweets my sweet! O how,  
My pleased midriff trims my smiling brow!  
O how my humble thoughts revived aspire,  
Borne up with spirits to their high desire!  
How how my unstraitned soul doth boundless fly,  
Its gazing circuits through the highest high.   

Where am I now? am I a man?  
I see, I see, but cannot say.  
Mine eyes have borrowed all they may,  
Of tongue, of all, do what I can,  
My assembled spirits cannot yet devise  
To tell my tongue the pleasure of mine eyes.   

Stupendious sights! O cu'd I read  
The world a lecture of those joys  
The cleere-eyd souls so richly feed,  
How they'd indigne these cheating toys!  
And hourly watch at wisdom's gate a glance  
Might open their eyes, and thence their souls advance!   

Transcendent sounds! O too too rare  
'S this! Nay, too gross these carnal ears.  
O tones! O tunes! what compass bear's  
This stately consorts curious Airs!  
Their strings are true, high, wound, incessant play,  
Musicians skilful, play well, well they may.   

Pure, understanding, zeal! responds  
To God, Christ, h's Spirit. Endless strains  
Of multiplied bliss! detains  
The blessed souls in boundless bonds!  
But if such sights! such sounds! such distance brings!  
O what's the midst, where Glory shines, Grace sings!    


O Cud I keep me in this Option! I  
Would wish to live because I wish to die.  
How like a little God I would converse  
With men! let down a while here to rehearse  
Those joys above! till I had drawn up more,  
Harboured their Hearts upon thy Haven's shore.  
He only lives, wh' enthroned In's mansion, can  
Yet condescend to sejourne with, for, man.  
He only lives who in his Jesus lives,  
But he so lived who h's life to, if for, giveth.  
How he derides his fears, his cares, his grief,  
That seek to hast his so-much-sought relief!  
O how he pleasure's pleasure's in his pain  
That but contrives more treasure to his gain!  
Christ is his life, his death is more of Christ.  
His joy's now high, but then shall be at th' highest.  
Now ebbs, now flows, than an e're-flowing tide,  
O'er flows, and swallows all the woes of pride.  
Morn, even, eclipse, now; then, a constant not one  
Th' Sun lights to th' earth-uninterposed moon.  
O draw this earthy Curtain, draw, that darks  
MY enlightened eyes from their beloved sparks.  
Those lovefull beams of dreadful Majesty,  
In whose exchanged rays my life doth lie.  
O how I strive! I wrestle to be rid  
Of half myself stands in'ts own light! but bid  
Thou dost my stay, and I'll obey,  
Till thou shalt call, who art my all,  
Whose will's my heaven,  
My own the leaven,  
Sows all my sweet, thine sweets my sour,  
Makes me unwish my still-wished hour.    


COme flying on thy spicy mountains, on  
Thy saving hills; and so convey along  
Those opening odours, kindly work upon  
MY obstructed soul; unlock it from among  
These straits, and let my spirits out of prison,  
To praise thy name among thy second risen.   

These meditations, prayers, thanks, confessions,  
Thus pieced, patched, interrupt, when shall they end,  
In endless praise? what now by dark expressions,  
These volumes of thy word and works commend  
Me leaf by leaf, b' one, clear, entire view,  
May the Synopsis of thy Face me show.   

Now see I one in all, than all in one;  
So may I see, what is not all is none.    

SIR,  
No longer (after my long Vacation in my travels) to frustrate you of your desire, though of force I must of the thing desired.  
Fear I conceive may not unfitly be distinguished into a fear of aversion and a fear of adhesion; of turning from and cleaving to; and this may well be stupendious, astonishing, overcoming; in respect of the immensity of the goodness of its object, such a fear as may be said to fall upon the soul, and make the soul fall under it, in a sweet God-injoying submissive humilitle. Such a fear as one may be said to be In the sear of the Lord; to be plunged in, swallowed up of those great and glorious apprehensions. This being both the effect and the cause of uniting the heart to God. And hence is it a fear of such great joy and strong confidence. The soul thus brought into God by love that is stronger than death, and faith that interested in the power, wisdom goodness of God can do all things, by this so near approach to, and communion with him, discovering more of his fullness, and in that of the creatures vanity. And hence are they so inseparably linked together, men of courage-fearing God-hating covetousness; fearing the Lord-and Delighting Greatly in his Commandments. It is rashness and madness that proceeds not from this fear; it is baseness and pusillanimity that ariseth not from this courage. The joy is sadness that is not accompanied with this fear; and grief the more kindly it is the more it hath of this delight. For that other of aversion, whether respecting moral or natural evils, it is either a bare and simple, or a mixed and applicative a ear, a fear of contraction, or of dilatation of the spirit, a mere withdrawing and flight, or an aggressive resistance and repulsion. And either of them is convenient pro re nata, as warranted by the consideration of the thing, time, place, person, etc. For moral evils, it is a fear of absolute resistance, because they never consist with the will of God quoad nos; for natural it is a respective resistance, and flying, so fare as they shall appear to be his will or not, as we are called or not called to them. So that there may be a fear of these evils, well consisting with a willingness too and desire of them, as it is said of Christ, he was heard in all that he feared, and yet again, I come to do thy will as it is written of me a body hast thou prepared me, etc. The spirit may be willing when the flesh is weak. There may be and that lawfully an abhorrency from evil as evil, and yet a will ingnesse to it as the will of God, and therefore good. Father let this cup pass from me if possible, but not my will but thy will be done. The prayer of him who himself alone in his own person so freely drunk up that so unimaginably terrible cup of the Eternal wrath, that should have been the portion of an everliving death to so many millions of souls. And certainly could all the calamities of the world that were ever, are, or ever shall be suffered from Adam to the youngest of his sons, steeped like so much Gall and Wormwood in one cup till all their ill-savoured taste were extracted from them, they could never make a draught so intensively bitter, so large a draught of bitterness, as that which was presented to him, accepted of him, prayed for by him. To which he comes, brings his body, as a Volunteer, as ready, as prepared for The Service, The Suffering. So in deed should this fear of aversion be subordinate to, fall in with, and be comprehended in, as part of, as coming from and tending to that of adhesion. I therefore turning from evils, because pro sua virili, of their own nature, it would turn me from God; but such being the never never sufficiently admired power, wisdom and goodness of God that he can turn even the greatest evil to the greatest good, the soul stands in aequilibrio with a kind of willing unwillingness, or willing willingness disposed to it. So as it may be said not to fear them, but God; fearing them because of him, and him in, by and through them; (as it may be said to love not the creature but God) they being but as foils and set offs for the further illustrating the otherwise not so apprehensible Glory. So make the soul cleave the closer to him and gather more strength from him. So these fears differing not in their being and nature, but in the manner of action; both being the fear of God, now acting ad intra, now ad extra, now making good its primary object, now evil its secondary. Christ, upon whom were the chastisements of our peace, whose stripes hath purchased us the spirit of a sound and healthy mind, who was troubled for our ease and tranquillity; that we in him possessed of his father's all-sufficiency might be of an untroubled mind, having thus, like that unparelleled Queen to her empoisoned husband, sucked out the venom, virulency and malignity of our fears, that naturally fill us with disturbance, distractions, evill-creating and evill-nourishing conceits, over studious, and over burdening preventions. Their deadly quality and overmastering power, thus drawn away, and only so much left as is within the strength of inherent and continually supervenient grace, and may by it be kept at an under, subdued, and workeed out daily to the further manifesting the power of God in us and by us, as well as upon us. The more than we prevail against this distempering fear, the more is our convalescencie, the greater our recovery of that happy harmony that was between our affections before they were untuned in their fall. Every affection being so fare good as it holds its correspondency with the other, and all as they tend to their perfection, action. Good is the grief the fear that after helps. A wary, circumspective, deliberating, confultive prudential, providential fear. And to this purpose was it an answer well worthy its Author, that Turkish Terror that even-incredibly valiant Scanderbag to the precipitate and unadvised advice of one of his Captains, It is good to fear all that may be feared, that so indeed we may fear nothing. And such a, and but such a fear is that which is becoming a Christian. Of whom there is nothing more unworthy than base directing unmanning (and for so much) unchristianizing fear. God having ex consulto, and out of a gracious forefight, left our enemies subdutos & expugnatos, though not funditus stratos; brought under, overcome, though not utterly subverted; that, that in nothing we might be terrified, this, that in nothing we might be secure, lasche, remiss, dull, blunt; but might still have them as Coticulas, as whetstones to our mettle, and animosity; as those on whose fall and ruin we may be raised to an higher pitch of an unreachable and undaunted spirit. As it was well counselled by that wise Statist for the sparing of Carthage from an utter demolition, for the keeping in heart of the Roman valour, that would else languish i' the want of exercise. And God sometimes (like that dedemeanure of Edward the third to the young Prince at the battle of Cresey) withdraws himself as it were, and stands aloof of, at a convenient distance, on the hills of his salvation, environed with his auxiliary troops; and thence views us in the valley, how we fight, how we are matched, how we quit ourselves with the strength already received, without a more extraordinary recreut, and suffers us often to be brought to hard stresses, pressing exigences and almost inextricable straits; yea to the very jaws of death, yea to be swallowed up of death; that living and dying Conquerors (like that late-and ever-famous Swead) he may in a more special manner share to us with himself the honour of the day; may demonstrate ours in his own glory; That we are the Sons of such a Father, and he the Father of such Sons; That we should be so honoured to be made the instruments of his power, and he to be the Maker of such instruments. Now the fear that thus strengthens us in the Lord, and in the power of his might, and makes us stand fast, and quit ourselves like Men in Christ Jesus, that works up the soul to such noble and Princely achievements, that all sordid & earth-bred-feares fall below it as Lucifer before that pure and spotless Light; This is The fear, The fear of the Lord. Which since it is a grace, and therefore supernatural, must as all other graces being homogenous be conducible to the rest, and all to an active and ready performance of the good pleasure of God, So fare therefore as it turmoils, perplexes, casts of the hooks, and makes the soul that it is not in a fit posture to turn and wind any way with the first significations of the divine command, so fare as it is not a fear of furtherance to, but of hindrance from, our duty, so fare is it not a fear of God; not a fear that draws us to him, but as all our own fears, from him. And so is it extravagant and wand'ring out of the way of those inseparable companions the graces, that all jointly convey the soul to a more strict, close, and intimate fellowship with its God. It will therefore be great wisdom to keep this kind of fears (so fare as merely concerning us and the evils) from our heart, and seat it in the head; that it might not take hold of us, but we of it; we act and command that, not that us; that it may be as a Sword in our hand to defend us, and not as one at our heart to offend us; that while the heart is carried on with the fullest gale of animosity and courage, borne up to the bravest and highest resolves of a magnanimous spirit, the head may wisely plot, and the hands seasonably act. That we may undertake this fear as a voluntary work, an expedient injunction, and not be overtaken by it as a mere natural and necessitating affection. But thus supernaturalized spiritualised we do, we suffer, with delight all the wills of God; looking on them as designs, as ordinances, wherein our good is inviolably interwoven with the most high glory. So that the horse should not more neigh to the battle, nor the soldier shout at the warning Piece, than the heaven-animated spirit summoned to the Almighty-might-glorifying encounters, springs forth with a nimble and cheerful alacrity. And certainly there is nothing can guard us better against base & misbeseeming fears, than the unspeakable, unconceivable peace that rules in the heart, that is ruled by the fear, that is moved by the faith of God. There is nothing that carries up the heart to a more elevated pitch of courage and confidence, than a selfe-diffident humility; a careful serving of God's providence in the use of all good means, with a well-grounded and full reliance on him alone, above and when he pleaseth without means. And undoubtedly what ever the self conceited world may think, the most God-fearing, the most-mortified, the most-meekned-humbled-soule is fortified with the truest, with the only true courage: because he only is with God the only sound ground of confidence. And he hath, he only hath, and that worthily the name of a generous man, of a gentleman, who is the complete, the accomplished man; furnished with all virtuous qualifications, though never so seemingly different. He whose gentle, mild, selfe-debasing, courteous, debonnairete is armed with the most invincible impregnable prowess and valour, commanded and drawn forth by a judicious conducture. So the several denominations of the Latin and English, meet well; well couched in and accompanied with that primary and all including virtue, in that one word of the French, un Preud home, importing (as one may gather from their use of it) a man discreet and wise, a man of fortitude and prowess, of a sweet and gracious comportment, a man of honesty, faithfulness, integrity, rondeur of mind. All virtue is of choice. And where all is not chosen none is chosen. To suffer in any case, upon any terms, is necessity not patience, meakishnesse not meeknesses a phlegmatic dulness, a stoical stupidity, not a heaven-taught compositure of spirit. Neither can the intermission of the act argue the privation of the habit: and though the world count them sheepish moapish; &c. because they are the quiet of the land that walk softly in the humility of their soul, yet present them with a fitting object, and see whether they do not give it suitable entertainment, the same command, the same spirit, having wrought in the same heart, all requisite graces; the manifestation only of either accommodated to a fit occasion, and drawn forth by a prudent observation. And since they know not their Genius, no marvel they hold so little friendship with them, whose foundation is acquaintance. Little do they think a Chrisitian is such a one, (as such a one he is if not unlike himself) as can bring the Drum and Trumpet in consort with the Lute and Viol, or could thence gather what they are like to find, he can make Music of all things. As well of the most harsh & hideous terrors, as the softest and sweetest sounding melody; can as well play with the most froward and wrestling (so the word Psal. 18.) as the most pure-and peaceable disposition. As being he who knows how to be in perils often, in weariness, in painfulness, in watch often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings, often in cold and nakedness, besides his continual sympathising with the Churches; knows how to run through good report & bad report, how to abound and how to want, and how in all to be content; a most blessed concord in the spiritual ear, the spiritual heart! That can take joyfully the spoiling of his goods, receive any word any precept of God as pure-holy-good-and-just, and set about the actively, passive obedience of it, in much affliction with joy of the Holy Ghost. Happy afflictions that help to such an holy joy! O! where! but I forbear. And if he grief it is at the want of this cheerful and thankful deportment of himself. And this is a higth that we are carried up to in the New Adam, beyond the reach of the Old even in his innocence. He being altogether free from these evils, and therefore nothing acquaint with these evill-conquering comforts. The Almighty wisdom to the more eminently advancing of his glorious Grace, having thus wonderfully by our fall raised us up to an higher, to a permanenter, to an ever-highly-permanent Station. Strike up then your alarm when you will, you shall never carry him by force, but shall but rouse up more spirits to man him repel you. As he is of a harsh rugged rough-hewne proud-cruell, that is not alleviated with a sweet mild smooth temprature; so is it an effeminated, flaccid, torpid, dispirited, enervated soul, that is not quickened not inlivened with courage. That alone being hydropical, this feverish. That too dull for action, this is too quick for council, for patience, for endurance: But both happily met together in one, in a wise, understanding, actuating spirit, like the natural heat kindly fomented by the radical moisture, and duly agitated by the influent and insite spirits, keep the soul in a happy and healthy constitution; because in an apt and proxime power for the well performance of its several functions. Hence (may be it) those Grecian Captains were so well seen in Music as in feats of Arms and Philosophy; as that brave-spirited Epimanondas, etc. it being a usual custom after their feasts to have a Lute presented them to play on. And certainly he is a man of a choice and complete temperature, that is well made up of a Scholar, Soldier and Musician. A head full of discreet and sage knowledge, a heart full of courageous and meek love, a hand full of indefatigable and difficultie-overcomming action. Such a head! such a heart! such a hand! That make such a Man! And yet what are all these, and were there a thousand more such suches, but mere counterfeit spiritless and dead resemblances of that true and living way to completeness of heart, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  because to him the true and living God, the Creator the compleator of the heart. There being nothing good, nothing of worth but what is in God, in whom as in Christ we are, in these and all graces Complete. In that meek and immaculate Lamb, that dreadful and terrible Lion of Judah, that brazen Serpent in whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. Thus made conformeable unto that All-sweet Alwise Allmightie Being, the Maker, the Perfection of all things. By whom we are made perfect, through our likeness to him, our living in him. And here only here is the rise of that true magnanimity, that consists in the  power of a sweet and humble wisdom, God. And now since I have so insensibly slipped thus far into the nature of this grace, & we know not how soon the Lord may settle our distractions of State and Church; and so prevent us with his mercies, and fit us by them, who will never be fitted for them; and it being the Character of an ingenious child to fear favours and not to be affrighted with frowns, I will a little draw it forth into that part of it which may be most suitable to those times. It being the nature of it upon the knowledge of God to know nothing else great, no more goods then evils. And yet either so weak is our knowledge, or so seldom our acting it (which makes it for so fare no knowledge to us) that in those Halcyon days have we most need of the highest resolves and Princeliest circumspection, not to have our spirits debased in the knowledge of things after the flesh. But now to have a special care of exercising that mysterious, that inheavening art of making all things become new, knowing, affecting doing all things under new notions, from new principles, by new rules, to new ends so using the World as not using it; meddling with it as in transitu, by the way, as a viaticum a bait when needs & but what needs, etc. See Page 27.  
'Tis than's the danger when the danger's past,  
Th' inward foe fights wilier when the outward's cast.  
Tactics unheard of; covert stratagems;  
Sly in his Methods, suddenly he hems  
Us in with tempting troops; while w' thought h'had been  
Distant by many miles, we're rounded in  
A Maze of fatal friends, straight rout our thoughts  
To a desbausched confounded yielding brought.  
Stand sentinel soul, unless thou stand'st Perdu,  
Losest thy life, thou'lt not the loss escue.  
Capua Hannibali Cannae Fuit. A rich and pleasant Asia is more dangerous than a barren and hungry America; lieu and tepid baths then harsh & storming winds; these confirming, those consuming the hardiest spirits, not guarded with discretion. Neither indeed is it a thing so worthy a Christian to seek for an abiding City when this inferior is like to be fired about his ears. To make friends of the unrighteous Mammon when it is ready to be snatched from us; to estrange ourselves from these things when they turn their back upon us. But when the world shall comes with its Cornucopia of riches, pleasures glory, etc. and would pour all upon our heads; and God on the other hand ready to pour down more abundantly of that anointing that teacheth us all things, that qualifieth us with more Kingly, Prophetical, Priestly endowments, and fills us with joy and gladness above our fellewes; now not to leave the substance for the shade, the Pearl for the Barly-corne, is somewhat like him that lives by faith, and hath made a true discovery of that only excellent object. Now when the world comes fleering in all her whorish attire with the most cunning and sophistical insinuations, and our spirits are in the height of their jollity ready to throw themselves into her embraces, when the outward and inward temptations thus powerfully met in their united strength; now to command them off, is indeed to command a man's self, the most noble conquest. And surely this magnanimity, this inlargeing, this heighthning heat and vigour of heart is conveyed in equally with those beams of divine illumination. Which wonderfully marvellous light, which kingdom of Heaven first entering into us and we into it at our first entrance on Mount Zion, works thus diffusively on the understanding-the-heart-the whole. All things are as they are compared to God; but him in the face of Christ I see the only good, and therefore (as contraries illulustrate each other) whom have I in earth in Heaven but Thee? I see nothing in the whole creation in its best and setledest state, but a black and horrid Chaos of vanity, of deformity; farther than it partakes of him; farther than I can espy in it the scatter of the divine Rays. And surely the men of the world comparing themselves with themselves, and the things with the things of the world are not wise. Rectum est index sui & obliqui. The light of the manifestation of itself and darkness. He than that doth truth cometh to this light, to see whether his works be of God.  

't's the shining Sun discovers those motes of sin,  
Those subtler mists of fleshy steames, between  
Our spirit our light our life and us, those beams.  
Of shadowing lusts that dark our lightfull beams.  
Still shine loed Sun! discovering still dispel,  
And in dispelling discover our heart-bred hell.  
Those uncouth Cells, those shades of dismal death,  
Those haunts of horrid Fiends, whose much skeath  
Of mortal wounds, housed in a golden sheath  
Of minion comforts, steal away the breath  
With fatal kisses; whilst th' guile-favouring night  
Masks their infernal shapes; till th' friendly light  
Of faithful truth appear, and put to flight  
Their wilily force b' its wisely succouring might.  
Thus more commended it, my triumph more  
Increased, such enemies so triumphed o'er.   
Thus the sincere heart brings himself and all the world to this all-revealing Sun; to see what they have of him, in whom he hath approved the only, and only fincere-making, excellencies, by that single eye of faith, that singles him out as its only object, as desiring to see nothing but him, at least mediately if not immediately. And though this latter is the way wherein the earnestly hearty desires of the soul run after the full and uninterrupted in oyment of God, yet in regard of the frailty of the flesh, the weakness slenderness imbecility of the intermediate spirits that are as the ties and ligaments betwixt the foul and the body, and could not long contain themselves without being utterly dissolved, should they be unintermittedly bend and held up to that extensive intensiveness whereunto they are wrought by those great and glorious thoughts of those savoury and cordial apprehensions (which in the Lord Christ they have and without him they cannot have) of that simple and infinite good, which not only carry forth the soul in a glad venture but transport it in an eager pursuit of this happy dissolution, yet bethinking itself that there may be a self-seeking in this selfe-loosing, that it is to live to others not itself, to do not receive, it is willingly forced with a kind of unpleasant pleasantness to further entertain its faith in natural sense lest it should wholly vanish into supernatural. So may our souls O Lord be incessantly continually devoted to thy fear, so may they be devout even in all their earthly affairs may se devovere vow themselves from themselves, and pay their vows continually. So may they ever live in thy fight in thy light that they may never departed from thy fear, that they may never more give the lie to their professed knowledge & fellowship with the light, by walking in the ways of darkness; but show forth the glory of their father in Heaven, by the reflection of their serene sincere light some conversation on earth. And certainly could we stand with this 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 this stretching forth of the head in an earnest looking on him, and longing for him, we should have such an assuence of light and life break in upon our souls, and shine on our ways, that we should walk up and down like stars shot from Heaven, till having dazzled the eyes of the world into an envious astonishment we should remount for ever fixed in our highest sphere. Now according as our aspect is on Him, so is it also to others; if that but obliqne, this but dim and obscure; but if that perpendicular, this lively and glorious, O that we were more excellently skilled in these holy optickes; we cu'd not but be in Theologie, and therefore in Ethics Economics, etc. And cu'd we but live soberly righteously and godlily upon (as we ran not but, cannot choose but upon) the sight of God, avaunt then false lights, false comforts for ever, than he that shall come will come and will not tarry; for the Lord is certainly waiting to be gracious to that soul that is thus steadfastly waiting to be guided by him. This indeed being the product the effect of the sense of that. Neither know I any such (if any other) sincere and constant seeking as that when I thought of (an absent) God I was troubled, and refused to be comforted by any thing but himself, as knowing nothing else true comfort. Neither can there be such seeking but from a true and lively saith, not such a waiting but from a sincere-and-fervent love; therefore not unlikely the Apostle (thus intimating the nature of these graces) translates those passages of Esaiah 11.10. with Rom. 15.12. 1 Cor. 2.9. with Isa. 64.4. seek, trust; wait, love. Seeking faith and waiting love. Here is that great Art of a Christian, to be seeking still seeking the face of God. I have set the Lord Always before my face therefore, etc. Seek ye the Lord and seek his face Evermore. I am Continually With thee. Be in the fear of the Lord all the day long. Here is that great difference of sincerity and hypocrisy. Will the hypocrite pray always? Will he seek God in prosperity as well as in adversity. At mid day in his business, all the day long, hourly and minutely as well as morning & evening, and at the solemn assembly? Will he live the life of faith in the flesh, in all sensual things? is he crucified to the world and the world to him? Is he dead, and this that even his mortal body lives, is it by the quickening of the spirit? doth he walk up and down the world as a man that hath neither life nor soul, but only as inlivened as animated hence? is he ever lifting up his face to God, that that flood of light and life that thence with such mighty incomes flows in upon the soul, might bear down before it every thought that exalts itself against the kingdom of the Lord Christ, etc. that wholly given over to the power, sway and guidance of it, wholly casting itself into its embrace, while it lies drowned as it were in a Sea of loves and sweetnesses, in a blessed astonishment and stupefaction, it is elevated in the highest advancement of life and spirits in the Lord of life and glory, that descended and ascended to draw up with him all that adheres to him. O were the soul wound up to this pitch, and watched at it; and wound up again if never so little slipped down; how might we live! O still still let us be in this blessed vision of God with more continued intentiveness; contracting thence, or rather dilating those Coexistant, inherent, essential, which we call attributed species. Then others beholding the steadfastness of our faith, could not but there see more of that radiant image in its deputed Majesty; the ball of the sensual eye not more naturally expressing the Idea of the directly opposite and neighbouring visage, than this of the spiritual, of faith, doth that of God. And certainly no sense doth furnish us with more, and more clear conceptions of God, than the sight; being for its ready commence with the soul, for its extension, and intention, the properest most conducible and advantageous of all; being the most spacious, farthest reaching, pure, simple, active, and therefore most apprehensive: and next to that the hearing, being the less gross and earthly of all the rest. But to keep to that; As the Sun conveyeth heat and activity inseparably with, and proportionably to its light, so is the truth loved and done so fare and only so fare as it is seen. The actions are spurious and illegitimate that are not conceived in the heart and begotten by the eye; it will be our wisdom then so truly to inform the latter at we desire the well and right forming and performing of the other. Let us look on him then by no other Organ than faith, through no other medium than Christ; at no other distance, than the mearest approaches; even to such an unity, that we see ourselves in him and him in us. When with the wicked we put God fare from us, and see the world draw nigh us, then seems he little and this great; but when we draw near to him, what a pointile, what an atom, what a nothing it seems, nay it is? And as the medium is ever the fame, so is the Organ then best when most refined, abstracted, metaphysical, subtilised, sublimed and sence-rarified; cause then most proportionable and suitable to the simplicity and purity of the object it intends, and therefore consequently to the extensiveness and infinity of it, God being simply infinite and infinitely simple. And therefore as wisdom consists in the clearness and quickness, so in the enlargedness, of the understanding; but since that knowledge that light in every thing we draw from him is the only true wisdom, we are then wisest when our understandings are most clarified by him, most acted on him. And surely this clarifying of our faith is according to the intimateness of our humbly bold access unto him; the nature of this Sun being to give light to the blind, and that more or less according as we are more off, or apply ourselves nearer to Him. And surely while we thus see God in the holiest of holies, all the kingdoms of the earth in their freshest and heart-stealingest loveliness, and that set forth in the most rich and glorious accoutrements, will lie at our feet as a dead and rotten carkasle; so fare shall we be from committing folly with it; so fare, that though then too our spirits be at the liveliest, as they cannot but be, yet because we, nay therefore because we, be as crucified, as dead to it, as it is to us. Such power hath this sight to fill the heart with love, this love to hold the soul close to God, from any thing that would part it from him, and to carry it forth in all readiness of obedience with him. When contrarily while we are looking on the world without God, we are but looking on so many lying vanities, that dead the heart to real and full contentments, withholding it from God, and setting the hand on work in the ways of sin; which still estrange the soul from Him, and keep Him at a distance from the soul; that more deading the heart, that, etc. so the soul running on in a round of wickedness, if God not graciously break in, and hinder its course. Which when he doth, his presence makes grace to grow by the interchangeable officiousness of all its undivided parts. The sight of God inflaming the affections, they inciting to actions, these again 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, stirring up the fire in more fervent flames, they giving in greater light, that discovering more beauty, that kindling more fire, that animating to more action, this again, etc. so truly infinitely, infinitely, infinitely sweet is the comfort of the God-conversing soul. The soul that hath received the truth in the love thereof; and he that loves me keeps my Commandments, & he that doth my will shall know my will; he that hath my Commandments as his possession, riches, etc. and keeps them as his greatest joy comfort life, he it is that loves me and to him will I manifest myself; Now this manifestation again fills the heart with more operative and effectual love, this again, etc. Thus Faith worketh by love, the fulfilling of the Law, the end of the Commandment out of a pure heart and of a good conscience and of faith unfeigned; the sincerity whereof must needs be according to the sight it hath of God, according to the loveliness, worth chooseablenesse that it seethe in him. Faith than I take to be (by what of light in this night of blindness and darkness I can see) such a light as shining on the intentively beholding soul through the face of Christ, hath that influence and attractive power with it, to draw it up and make it cleave and adhaere with all its might and strength to God, to lift up the heart to, and make it go along with him in all his ways. While like the Helitrophion, it turns and winds; shuts and opens with the motion of the Sun of righteousness. And this light thus influenced, thus working (how ever clouded and obscured to a Christians self) to be wisdom unto salvation, that effectual knowledge of God & his Christ, coming into, and received of, the soul, that is life eternal already taken hold of, and ere long fully prossessed, or thus, 
Faith is a promise-lighted, seeking, light,  
Burns with pure fervent love, whose active might  
In every radiant precept shining bright  
Reflects its glory to the Father-Light.  
Thus, these three-one obedience-faith-and love  
Unite my soul to those Thee-One Above.    

John 11.5.7.  
A seeking (Isaiah 11.10. with Romans 15.13.) Satisfying (John 5.44. with John 14.1.) Faith, (John 1.4.19.) a sincere (Phil. 1.10. Matth. 6.22. Eph. 6.24.) Fervent (Cant. 8.6.7.) love (John 14.15.) an universal (Psal. 119.6. Jam. 2.10. Ephe. 4.23. Matth. 5.10.) Constant (Cor. 1.15.58.) Obedience. So that grace is, faith understanding, faith affecting, faith acting. And must needs, because whatsoever is not of faith is sin. Neither indeed can I wonder how fear hath lead me to faith, but should certainly take myself to be seduced, if it did not. All graces, how distant soever seeming, being of the same company, going the same way; so that he that is with one, must needs be with all. And questionless all are wrought in the soul together, and grow together; how ever in the minority of our Christianity God may teach us methodo analytica, may as it were parcel them forth into several lessons, till our capacities are more widened and strengthened for the fuller and completer apprehension of them, according as we grow in our manhood in Christ Jesus. And hence is it that so often in Scripture a Christian is caracterised by one only; But especially by faith and fear, that in the old, this in the new Testament; one, in Christ more darkly shadowed out, the other in Him more evidently revealed, but both in Him: according to the manifold wisdom of God in Him by whom He hath reconciled all things, the several kinds of actings of the soul as well as several souls to one another, and all to himself. So that what they said of their virtues, that there was cognatio quaedam & arcta necessitas between them, I am sure holdeth most true of graces; betwixt whom there is cognatio certa & necessitas perquam arctissima. All of the noblest and familiarest consanguinity, being all of the blood of Christ. Or conceive them as so many links of a Bracelet, the love token of the soul from its Christ, linked together in an invielable concatination; you cannot break off one, but the whole figure and form of the work (as it is said of the Commandments whereby these are framed (as it were) and cast) is broken. And indeed there is nothing of Christ in the soul, but it is Christ. Christ form in you. You have not so learned Christ. We preach Christ, etc. the whole sum of the Gospell-Law, and Law-giving Gospel, and consequently the whole work of grace being only Christ. So that we cannot so much as think the least good thought of ourselves. What we do, what we have, what we are, of good, we do, we have, we are not; but it is God, the spirit of Christ that dwells in us, and so indeed ours, so we, as Christians as outed of ourselves, as inned in God, partakers of the divine Nature, etc. whose being in us habitually, whose acting in us, imminently or transiently, is all our grace. Now the spirit of God is indivisible, and therefore are all our graces; homogeneous, harmonious; have a graceful symmetry, analogy, proportion, to one another; make but one system, joint frame, and body of Christianity; how different so ever, how discrepant soever the parts, the members seem, they are graceful to, useful to each other. Are like so many faculties of the same soul in innocency, before by our fall they were like a watch dashed against, troubling and stopping the course of one another. Which mended again by their maker, though like several wheels they seem to move not only diversely but contrarily, yet are they all moved by one spring, and further the due motion of each other, and all tend to the same end, the promoveing of the same gnomen, in promoting of the glory of their God, and setting forth the praise of that never-sufficiently admired workmanship. (And though there may be some hamerings and knockings in setting the mind in frame, some pains in the new birth, some harshness in the tuning of the soul, yet they do all tend to the completing of that inconceiveable harmony. Though God often times, (specially in the more powerful times of the Gospel) brings forth Christ form, as it were without any pain, tunes the heart as it were with one touch, and sets up the whole and joint frame of the temple, without scarce any the least sound of the hammer.) And as a wheel, not only by, but in its going down, is Ipso facto going up, so those graces that seem only to cast down the soul, do not only afterward, but in the very doing of it, raise it up; as humility, fear, grief, etc. which so fare as divine, and as I may say Gospell-proofe, are still raising up the soul in the greater assurance, magnanimity, joy, and these (as it were) still casting it down, and that again raising it up, etc. As there is nothing that more humbles the soul then heavenly mindedness, so is there nothing that more sublimes it then humility; as there is nothing that strikes the soul with a deeper awe than the assurance of the eternal love, so in the fear of Jehovah is the strongest confidence; as it is an unsound and vain joy that hath no acquaintance with sorrow, so is it a sinful and death-working sorrow that rears not up the soul to more livelmesse and joy, etc. 

And thus we progress on our speedy round,  
While grace helps grace to rid away the ground.  
Not grace and grace, but one promoveing wheel,  
Whose apprehension-parted particles feel  
Their oneself equally-proficients, while  
We are one Christ, converts us from this soil  
In never-resting fiery circles, till  
In perfect motion on our holy hill,  
Thus while the world runs roundly down to Hell,  
We roundly up to th' Heavenly Domicill.   Christ, I see, I fall, I fall in love, for love I die, this death's my life, this life's my work, this work's my life, this life's my light, this lively light's my death, this death's my fall, my rise to come to fly unto my light love life my Christ. Happy, happy soul in truth, whom the sight of God the beauty of truth of holiness shining through the face of Christ as a mutual perspective of reciprocal delight, keeps in an humble-meeke-peaceable-lovefull-fearing-joying-strongly-confident every-way gracious posture! And hither I suppose looks that of James, the meekness of wisdom; not only cause they as all graces convene in one bundle of life, in one poesy of heavenly fragrancies; nor of the proficiency of wisdom by meekness, in that the humble he will teach; nor from the nature of it, in that the wisdom from above is first pure and thence peaceable gentle easy to be entreated, etc. as in pure clean sweet-juiced bodies, free from the repugnancy of sour choleric hetrogeneous humours; but because the first rise of this so especially blessed grace is from wisdom, from the knowledge of God and ourselves. And hither that, unite my heart to fear thy name, as touched before. And that, fearful in praises, the same discovery that presents me God praise worthy for his great goodness presenting me him feare-worthy for his good greatness, Hither that, now I have seen thee with the seeing of the eye I abharre myself in dust and ashes, the soul might hear else long enough, (though indeed too faith comes by hearing, yet so as it is made an effectual means to open the eyes.) And hither that, holy, holy, holy, I am a man, etc. Hither that behaviour of the four and twenty Elders, that on the contemplation of the excellencies of God threw down their crowns, their excellencies at his feet, as being nothing but what they had of Him. in Him, for Him. But life would fail me; in referring zeal and constancy, etc. and all other graces hither, in what dependency relation they stood to one another. Sin being like so much muck and dung on the fire of zeal; the more unmixed, the more intent, etc. The fear of the Lord being a cleant fear and abiding for ever; make me sound in thy statutes- and steadfast in thy Covenant; The inheritance undefiled that fadeth not away; 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉; how that the purer the thing is, the more free from corruption, heterogeneousnesse, the more stable firm durable it is, so the body, so the soul. But now we know this purity, this sincerity is by this discovery, therefore this constancy, this zeal, etc. And hither that, the things that are seen are temporal but the things that are not seen are eternal. The things that are not seen being rare pure holy simple, etc. and therefore free from corruption, and therefore from alteration, from decay. But into what a blessed maze, and gladly involving labarinth hast thou wound thyself O my soul! And shalt thou be so unhappy ever to find the way out again? Is it not good for us ever to wander here, in these paths of pleasure, and walks of delight? Can there be any thing that can steal away the heart so surrounded with such glories, such loves? But, art thou not to thyself but to thy God, and doth he call thee to works of an inferior nature? Still work and wonder, work and love, work and bless; still keep thy ground, thy God, who is the God of the valleys as well as of the mountains. And still while thou art walking with him through a divers path, lose thyself in him, who shall shortly with all them that in truth have known his name, be ever lost in the blessed contemplation of the wonderful contrivances of the eternal wisdom. When there shall be no more eating and drinking, no more sleeping and rest, no more spending of spirits, no more avocations from the immediate and uninterrupted continually active contemplation in that full vision of the only blessed God, and in him of all his wonderful works. When there shall be no successivenesse of plenary intuition and perfect action, but still the heart that knowes-loves-obeyes him, continually overpowred with the blessed vision and overflowing in loves and sweetnesses, shall be incessantly running over in heart ravishing praisings, and intranced in perpetual ecstasies. Who is it that even now is able to conceive the heaven that is in his own heart? what then when we there see- and love-and-sing-and-sing-and-love-and see eternally? when we shall not only have the spirit in us, but be in, be wholly in the spirit. Perfused, baptised, overwhelmed with it. Not only see and have, light, joy, love, spirit, but be In, nay be spirit, light, joy, love! And now O Lord what are we that it should be thus with us! O thou life of life! and being of beings! thou incomprehensible God What is it to thee that we know thee? that we love thee? what pleasure hast thou in our righteousness? or what profit it is to thee that we make our ways perfect? surely O Lord thou hast thou hast none! who art so infinitely above all happy and holy! none but what thou acceptest as such in him, in whom thou only art, in whom we only are, well pleased. In whom thou wilt welcome us, with a Well done, good and faithful servant, when thou shalt find us so doing, who have done, nothing. What are our understandingst thoughts of thee; but as so many misshapen confused conceits? What our appositest speeches but as so much jabber and gibberish? What our accuratest performances, but as so many trifling toys? All childish childish all. What are they further than they are exercises of, than they are testimonies of our love; the end; the sum, of all the Commandments. Yet what too are our strongest our heart-possessingest loves, but as so many fond and fleeting passions? And yet thou looking on us and we on thee through the face of thy Christ, that perspective of mutual lustre and glory (from, in and for whom are all our thoughts, words, affections, actions, and aught that aught is) art pleased to accept them as the thoughts, as the language, as the love, as the life of Angels. Whom thou hast made ministering spirits to thy chosen, thy faithful, that we with them, and they with us, preferring each other in honour, might all jointly promote the honour of our onely-honour-worthy God. O the freeness of thy grace! the unfathomednesse of thy wisdom! the incomprehensibleness of thy glory! O where is the learning that hath learned thee, that would not willingly debase itself, throw down itself, as the footstool before thy Throne and the Throne of thy Christ! as being nothing but what it is in raising up the soul to a dutie-learning, to an humble walking with thee: that would not willingly as it were, unlearne all, and learn it over again in thy Christ? where are those fond and self-conceited Opiniasters that would not lay down all at his feet, at least meekly and selfe-suspectingly manage their Scripture-unevidenced tenets. O did we know in what a black cloud of ignorance we were all involved! in what a night of palpable darkness! (an epithet not unknown to a Christian heart, that cannot but be feelingly sensible of it.) Had our memories oftener recourse to that Original pride, that confounded the language of our minds, as well as that of our tongues; or thought that multiplicity and incertainty of opinions may since purposely be permitted by the divine wisdom and gracious justice to lay us low in our own eyes, to make us out of love with ourselves, etc. how could we then be so proud? and not so, so contentious? Why may not all that hold the same head, have the same heart? why may not there be dissension, without contention? But every one seek their own and none of Christ. Which true foundation, or foundation of truth, lain in the heart if any shall (as who doth not) among our gold and silver, unwittingly build straw and stubble, why should not we labour to purge one another's dross with a tender love and careful salvation (as I may say) of one another's respects, content, peace, whom the God of love and peace hath promised to save eternally? Or had we observed, that it is with Christians as with the tenant and mortesse in building, the condyles and concavities in the bones of the body; he is that eminent at one end (as it were) may be defective at the other, that is excellent in this, may be wanting in that; that so we may fall in with, join closer to one another in one & the same building frame and growing body; so fare should we be from making them as arguments to keep us at the greater distance. And what indeed is the end of God's various dispensation of himself in such diversity of gifts, parts, abilities, if not that he might show the more of his wisdom in drawing them all so completely into one graceful knot; the bond of peace, love; that in such, if not by such a variety, can preserve the unity, if not further the harmony of the spirit of the Lord Jesus (Ephes. 4. perlege) Or to what purpose is our knowledge, but for love, for charity? the fulfilling of the Law, the end of the Commandment out of a pure conscience and of faith unfeigned? This is the sincere, the true faith, and knowledge, that thus works. What purity of conscience, what life of assection, I see in the conversation (caeteris paribus) by that shall I judge of the truth of the measure of the faith, the knowledge, as the root by the fruit; and by that I look to be judged by the judge of all things; by him whose call is for, whose residence is in, whose shining is into, the heart, where he shows himself, where he is, where he has savingly. Not by what is found in my brain, my head, but in my breast my heart; that which sitteth here making music to the Lord with a gracious answering to all his wills, a glorious admiration of his love his wisdom, etc. his merciful acceptance in the Lord Christ, and not that which it jarring with others there. That which sounds forth God in its life, and not that which found'st forth itself in its tongue. The Devil I believe hath as much knowledge, and can dictate as excellent discourse, as all the men of the world. Knowledge, so fare as it is not cordial and living, so fare as it is not sappy savoury and fruitful, but dry and barren, or bringing forth wild thistles, so fare I shall never think it to have the Lord Christ for its root. So fare as it is not sapida & sertilis, it will prove but insipida & futilis, foolish and vain. I would have knowledge then be my food, and my food my strength, and my strength my exercise. I would feed with delight, but not for delight; but for the better digesting of my knowledge into an assimulated practice. And be our opinions, notions, what they will, if they convey no more of God along with them, certainly they never came of his sending, who always comes along with the true understanding of his will, of himself the only truth. And by more of his presence induceth more glorious light-more humble love-more faithful action. And to what purpose have our hearts tugged so hard at heaven, for the pulling down of those spiritual wickednesses, and exalted vilenesses, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Psal. 12.  but as they have held up the heads, and strengthened the hands of the ungodly? but as they are those of whom we have no warrant, that they had their commission from him, and therefore no promise that he would dispense himself through them, but as they are intruders between God and us, and obtruders of their ceremonial and traditional obstructions in our immediater approaches to him, and they taken away we might have more of him, and that, that we might do more for him. But now, to have the obstacles removed, and the end never the nearer attained, to what purpose is it? To have those who under the pretence of being the Conduit pipes, were the dirt and filth that stopped them; of being the Contrefenestres, the shutting windows to keep out the thievery of innovations, schisms, separations, etc. out of the Church, keep out the light and truth, and were the greatest schismatics renters of the Church themselves, to have these I say removed (as sure enough they shall at what ever rate) and we draw never the more light and life into our hearts into our lives, but still hug our own fond imaginations, still seek about in such extravagancies after our own inventions, lying vanities, that promise fair, and perform worse than nothing, what other will it be interpreted by him then the despising, the turning of his goodness his glory into shame, while we know God more, but know him not, and therefore worship him not, as God, the commander of the whole man. But those (O Lord) that know what it is to know thee, can they but be thankful, in an active, and 〈◊〉 action-denying thankfulness? O then that thou wouldst accomplish the work that thou hast so graciously so powerfully undertaken. How long shall thy servants nauseate at the fulsomeness of their pride? Though they make the hearts of kingdoms still ache with it, let them be vomited, be vomited forth thoroughly. Rather let us be pained with our cure, that not prevent our death. We, yea, thou art sick of their lukewarmness, O when wut●● thou spew them out of thy mouth. So will we flock up to mountains of thy house, and pour forth our souls in thy praises. So in the humility of our spirits will we sit at the feet of thy Jesus; and learn at the mouths of thy holy servants. So shall our hearts bow before thee, and out hands be dilgent in thy service. So shall holiness be written on our paths, and our lives be the memorials of thy mercies. So shall the review of thy favours be as the fringe for remembrance of thy precepts. So shall the wonderfulness of our deliverancies be read in the wonderfulness of our obedience. So will we commune with our own hearts and be still, and say, what have we returned thee? What sin have we more crucified, what duty have we more, have we better done? So will we offer unto thee, the sacrifice of righteousness, of a broken and contrite heart. While we bind all the faculties of our soul and members of our bodies to thy Alcar: With the cords of our affections to thy Christ, and thou shalt accept them graciously.  
O Lord, our hearts, thy Zion!   

Delays are neither constant grounds of suspect, nor despair, neither of suspect of the promisers present good will, nor of despair of the promise it's future performance. In my last I promised you another, which till now you received not; yet hath this delay neither proved an utter silence, nor proceeded from an unfriendlike disrespect. God hath promised you deliverance which yet you have not yet received; yet can this protraction neither argue a change of his fatherly affection, nor unchangeableness of your child like afflictions. Neither is it a ground for your doubt of his great prudence or gracious goodness in correcting, nor of your comfortable support in, or seasonable freedom from, the correction. He that believeth maketh not haste. Faith is confident of the issue, patience attendant on the time. Two sweet and never-parting companions. An unbelieving patience, or an impatient beleese, how dissonant are they in the ears of a Christian? How can I with a truly submissive and not presuming patience, wait on that God either for help in or from distress, whom I believe not on good grounds to be my reconciled father in Christ? Who in him hath promised both; who is faith full and will not suffer, etc. 1 Cor. 10.13. and thus beleeveing, how can I but thus patiently wait on him? And happy thrice happy man is he that thus waits, thus believes! Let our afflictions be never so various, never so tedious, let our minds be never so disquiered, our bodies never so diseased, our estates never so distracted, in a word let deep call upon deep, and all the waves and billows of God pass over us (as David complains, Psal. 42.7. let afflictions be continual (as v. 3.) yet but let us with the hand of faith lay fast hold on his loving kindness (v. 8.) on his power in taking him for our rock (v. 9) and this will bear up our heads from sinking, cheer up our hearts from fainting, close up our mouths from murmuring, yea fill them with praises (v. ult.) in the midst of the waters, be they never so violent, never so shorelesse. Confess I do the multitude and continuance of crosses are of themselves too heavy weights, and may add much to the burden; so much it may be as may bruise, but never so much as may break the back of a true believer. And yet why talk I either of bruising or breaking? since I may boldly say, be but confident, and you shall be patiented, be but patiented, and the burden shall be tolerable, and not only tolerable, but easy, not easy only but pleasant. A paradox to a natural man, but to a spiritual a most approved truth. Otherwise what less than a rigid taskmaster might the spirit of God seem. Who instead of facilitating a Christians suffering, should by the imposing of an impossibility exasperated it, were it not a grace that he would give to the humble? James 1. v. 2. a verse with the two following well worthy your serious consideration. He saith not, repine not, or further, be patiented, but yet further, rejoice; and how? coldly, or by halves? no, with all joy: and that when in temptation only? no in temptations: and those divers too; and that indefinitely for degrees, not in little only but in temptations, be they what they will be, more or less, more or less violent: and that when we meet with temptations? No, when we fall into them, when we tumble as it were headlong into the pit, whence there is no easy or sudden rising. So that we must not only not repine, but be patiented, not only be patiented but rejoice, and that with all joy, and that even in the midst of the most tedious, most various, most grievous temptations: not only in the calmness of peace, in the Sunshine of honour, in the harvest of riches, in the Eden of pleasure, in a word when the fair sky of prosperity on every side invites us thereunto, but even then when the glorious Sun of comfort, our ever-gracious God withdraws his loving countenance from the sensual eye, within the dark clouds of poverty disgrace sickness, etc. when on every side the tempests of trouble and anxiety beat hard on the soul; then even then is it time for it by the spiritual eye of faith to pierce these clouds and see the loving countenance of its God shining on it even then as bright as ever. Then is it time for patience to be a prop to the head, for joy to be a cordial to the heart. Away then with that distrust that breeds impatiency, that impatiency that breeds sorrow, that sorrow that breeds affliction. For indeed no evil afflicts further than it affects, nor affects farther than it enters, nor enters farther than it finds a distrusting and yielding heart. Let not therefore unbelief betray your soul to the tyranny of grief. Let then the devil, the world, and the flesh conspire against us, let them muster up all their forces, let them environ us with the closest siege, let them cut off all comfortable supplies, let them make the most thundering temptations, the most piercing calamities; they can devise? yet why should we so dishonour our good, disadvantage ourselves; as to yield where he hath undertaken to defend? where with out yielding there is no being overcome, and where the being overcome is so dangerous? Maugre all the sickness and pain of the flesh, all the discredit displeasure disprofit of the world, yea all the temptations of the devil whatsoever, make but God your stay and strength, bring but your heart to him by unfeigned repentance for your swarving from him; and him to your heart by a faithful dependence and relying on him, and you shall remain as mount Zion that shall not be removed, And happy, happy sure is that man whose enemies make him such a friend. And indeed nothing, nothing so happy were you, when they presented themselves unto you under the specious vizard of health wealth and honour. When they fang unto you their enticing songs of ease peace and pleasure, as now when they show themselves in their colours, come against you with banners displayed, and beat up on every side alarms of terror and amazement. For than were those feigned songs apart to lull you asleep in the cradle of security, those false sights to make you take them for friends, at least not for foes, at least not so deadly foes: But now you see them in their right shape, hear them in their right tone, you fly for secure from a dissembling enemy to a faithful friend. Who in that he is God cannot but give safe protection, who in that he is good cannot but give all ready and requisite protection, to all that truly come in unto him. And surely he that is all in all, is able to counterpoise, yea infinitely to overpoyse all carnal contentments. For indeed what of delight is there in any of these worldly things we call good, as health wealth, etc. Which from him they have not, or without him can have. There is, there is surely nothing in them of themselves, but vanity and vexation of spirit. Neither is it the mere want or possession of them, but the absence or presence of (our ever-present God) in or with them that can make a man 〈◊〉 ●●acher happy or unhappy. How else can Paul and Sylas sing in a prison, when Ahab lies sorrow-sick in a Palace? How else can Jobs loss make him patiently dedendon God, when Judah's gain makes him desperately depend on a tree? God then must be the ingredient in all these earthly things, else are they like those physical drugs with uncorrected sooner ruin then restore. So that what is prosperity unsanctified, but adversity, what adversity sanctified but prosperity. And blessed ever blessed is that man, that thus knows the peace of perplexity, the riches of poverty, the credit of discredit, the pleasure of pain, the health of sickness, the liberty of imprisonment; the joy of sorrow, in a word the prosperity of a adversity. And this he knoweth that hath God for his God. Fail then heart and strength, yet shall the strength of our heart fail never. Shall be with us in the fire and in the water, be an Ark to his Noah a Zoar to his Lot.  
Et pater & mater dosunt, nec restat amious,  
Nec manet ulla domus, not manet ulla salus  
Tota haud habere sentias necem mala.  
Omnia quae multis dantur, tibi nulla, sed ipsum  
(Quod vel perpaucis) reddidit ille Deus.  
Hic instar omnium fit, atque praevalet.   

MY near and dear friend in the Lord Jesus, I cannot but according to your desire acquaint you with present passages; and passages I may well say, for all these things are but passing shadows, nothing. Were we in our own place, we might look down upon them as little fleeting vapoury clouds, without rain. Or else see ourselves so far above them in this third region, as we need not fear the storm. It is unworthy the thought of a Christian that hath already laid hold of eternal life, to shrink at the appearing loss of a mortal. But we are men. But God is God. And he is our own God, the God of our salvation, etc. O that we could, that we always could see ourselves so partakers of the divine nature, so filled with all the fullness of God, that we could look upon life and death, principalities, powers, etc. as things given in unto us, and all as things under our feet, at our command; for so they are to him that believes, for all are ours, and we are Christ's, and Christ is Gods. Our faith must fall before we, and our God before our faith. For it is founded on that rock, that living stone, that is the life of all the building. Let us stand therefore having taken us unto the whole armour of God, for what can the man do that comes after the devil? And surely little, nay no cause have we to fear in adversity, that can stand in prosperity. That soul, and only that soul that in this estate can follow God fully, be so satisfied with the hourly, minutely presence of God, that in all things it crosses itself of its own will, as not enduring the least estrangement from him, certainly in the other the mercies of God shall so follow him, so shall he delight himself continually in him, as that in all things he will cross men and devils of their wills against him, and so overpowre him with the light of his countenance, without which he was dead in the dearest enjoyments, and with which he lives in the deadliest confusions) as shall make them gnash their teeth to see such a divine reflect from that light unspeakable and glorious, whereby he shall be able to laugh death and destruction in the face. But shall we not fear, not grieve? He is no true Christian that doth not. Shall the Lion roar, and we not tremble? Yet must we be confident in this fear, and joy in this sorrow. And indeed the fear of God is strength, (Prov. 14.26. Psal. 112.1. with ver. 7. and 8.) And by the humility of our heart is our trust in the Lord, Prov. 28.25. But audaciousness and pride will shrink in the wetting. Neither will James his joy, 1.2. hold good without Paul's sorrow. 2 Cor. 7.7. Nor his sorrow without his joy. It is not the excess of fear and grief, but the defect of confidence and joy that hurts us. Our own weakness can never too much fright us. Our own and others sins grieve us. Neither will it be found so proper and sovereign a salve to those happily languishing consciences, to tell them they are too much dejected, cast down, sorrowful; but rather they have too little lifted up Christ in their hearts, and their hearts in Christ. It is impossible to think too basely of ourselves (and if there may be degrees in impossibility) more impossible to think too highly of Him. When we are led back by any particular sin to the Original source of all (as we must if we mean to know it to any purpose) and see the horrid shape of it, and become sensible of the malignity, the universality, the inherency of it, etc. with all those infinite (as to us) actual break out of rebellion from it, or rather the divers kind of breaking out of one continued unintermitting act; now while the soul is thus taking a bottome-and through-searching view of itself, by a beam of the divine Light and Love shed abroad in its heart (without which it could make no through, no true discovery of it) and thereupon throws itself below the lowest hell, in a sensible self-condemning, while it is still held up by the hand of faith in an unspeakably blessed distraction; now to see this Sun of Righteousness still rising, and rising with its infinite-surpassing infiniteness of glory, splendour, loveliness upon the lighttransformed soul, lying under the gracious droppings of its healing wings, O how sweet is that healing! How, how glorious that Sun! But the seeing, the feeling soul, where is it? How high! how low! How lost between both! Be then as sorrowful my soul as may be, thou canst not be enough for sin. As joyful as may be, thou canst not be enough for grace. Abate not of that sorrow, but increase this joy. Go as low as thou canst, but be sure thou risest higher by it. To be so dejected and cast down, as not to be heightened, raised by it, in the admiration, the love, the life of thy Saviour, is indeed to have proud and haughty thoughts of thyself, and low and undervaluing of thy Christ. Never fear thy liveliness and cheerfulness so far, as duly objected on him. Nor lessen so much thy love to the creature, as augment it to Him thy Creator. Affect with the strongest and heartiest endearment any thing beside him, and yet abhor it with the most detesting and abominating hatred for him. There is nothing that I set my eye on that I would not love as proceeding from him, as subsisting in him. But so far as degenerate from him, as coming in competition with him, the indignation wherewith it affects me is inutterable. Thus shall Cesar best have his due, and God his: Himself, and what is subordinate to him. God takes away no affection no nor the intensiveness of it, but only its obliquity to the object. Nay I am persuaded that all worldly fear, all worldly sorrow fall fare short of spiritual; the one being from a displeasing world which is finite, the other from a displeased God who is infinite. But how great then is that confident joy to which this fearing grief is but a set off? For these to overcome the soul and them for Christ to come and overcome that conquest what a triumph will there be? Oh the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God, etc. And blessed, ever blessed be our God that we are not of them from whom he hath hid the mystery of godliness! strength made perfect in weakness, concording discord. And if it be the glory of God to bring light out of darkness, good out of evil, how can we but rejoice that by being subjects of the one we come to bethe instruments of the other, 2 Cor. 12. 1 Cor. 2.5. And if good be the object of the concupiscible faculty, why should we make our affections the object of our irascible. The Lord strengthen us with joy in the inner man, and then go it how it will with the outer. So may we gladly keep the word of his patience in the saddest and patience-assaultingst times; so shall he keep us from, or at least in, and therefore from, the hour of temptation that shall come upon all the world to try them. Now is it a time for the patience of the Saints, for them that keep the Commandments of God and the faith of Jesus: Now is it a time for those that have held fast this inviolable knot in the bond of love, to hold up their heads in rejoicing, as then knowing the greater redemption draws nigh when the greater calamity approaches. Thus what ever of these things we may know already (feelingly in the heart, if not notionally & perspicuously in the head) let us not fail to put one another always in remembrance. Always striving together in our Prayers, and that with no small conflict of heart that we may be comforted, being knit together in love and unto all riches of the full assurance of understanding, to the acknowledgement of the mystery of God, and the Father, and of Christ. Had we more godly and brotherly love, we should have more comfort, and that would hunger after more knowledge, and that fill with more assurance, and that furnish with more grace, and all acknowledge the mystery of the purity, of the wisdom, of the love of the Godhead. So much spirit so much faith, so much faith so much Christ, so much Christ so much love, so much love so much knowledge, so much knowledge so much fullness of God. Eph. 3.16. etc. Come then what may come, befall what may befall to the flesh: The Lord be with, the Lord will be with, will be, our Spirits.  Ruat Mundus, Restat Deus.  


PLay on about the Candle wanton fly,  
Play, sing thy wings, consume thy soul, and die.  
Make jests of Scripture-jeere the God of heaven,  
Laugh at the Light-mock them who hath receiven  
It in their heartsand shine it in their lives.  
Invent unheard of opprobries; contrive  
New fashioned obloquys; scum hell for scurrilous wit,  
Or dive th'lowest depths of the unfathomed pit.  
IT will furnish thee with just sufficient store  
To make thyself a fool and nothing more.  
Enough, and but enough, to overreach  
And cheat thyself, th' infernal cheater'l teach.  
Else shouldst be wiser than thy master, should  
Thy wit have wit enough to make thee good.  
On madness, belch thy deadly Antipathy  
To heaven in thy horrid blasphemy.  
Cast up thy works, and rear thy mounts on high,  
Heap fetch on fetch, to overtop the sky.  
Shield thee with distinctions, say it is not him  
Thou shootest at, but his word, Saint, Image, Limb.  
Not God, but God in them. While merrily along  
To the correcting stocks the fool holds on  
His heedless way, tickled with the high desert  
Of h's flattering wit into his endless smart.   
PUritan, the invention of Hell, the Character of a Christian, the language of profaneness, the blasphemy of God, the evomition of a heart desperately wicked, a glorious defamation, an undermining of, an open thrust at the very heart, life, and power of Religion, an evident preferring of Pharisaical forms and Laodecean neutrality, a Match-divillian device to kindle sire in Church and State; a sly practice of the old Serpents old maxim, Divide and Reign; a word that is as it is made, entertained. And what indeed is this Puritan but a Protestant drawing natural conclusions from his own praemises, believing and living according to his own profession, at the highest pitch of his own principles. Nor know I indeed how one differs otherwise from the other than a Papist from an Arminian. A perfect birth from an Embryo; a Bird from an Egg. Time and due heat (Cateris non obstantibus) will give them both their full maturity. And as I have had it from good hands, confessed by a Papists that Protestanisme not kept down would naturally grow up to Puritanisme. And surely that which doth not is but a dry and dead stump without branches, or at farthest leaves without fruit. Is that tree which cumbers the ground, is that ground which is nigh unto cursing, to the executed sentence of its amendment-unaverted judgement. Let then this or whatsoever other synonymous Nickname, any divill-brooded brain hath latelier hatched, be sent forth dressed in the gavest feathers of proud and self-conceited and therefore desperately foolish wit, yet shall they prove but finer coloured excrements, but ensigns of their vanity (and therefore not seasonably prevented) of their eternal vexation of spirit. But what then those more black and dark aspersions of impudently-forheaded calumniators, with the very thoughts where of I abhor to defile my memory. Whose empty whose witless wit, is so taking with, because so easily apprehensible by, so aptly suitable to, corrupt nature: While the substantial wisdom of heaven is only justified by her children. Who have learned of her, how ever these scoffers deceive themselves, God, whom in his word, Saints, etc. they mock, will not be mocked, Judas 15. Act. 4.9. Matth. 25.42. etc.   

Try all things, hold fast that which is good.  

REject the Bran, retain the flower.  
All things abide their sifting hour.  
Perfection only in Heaven is.  
'Tis knowledge here to know we miss.  
But they who study not to advance,  
Are ignorant of their ignorance.  
But we that follow on to know,  
In floods of lights and loves shall flow.  
Baptised in glory, till we see  
Th' unseen in all his Purity.  
But what? O what! then shall we be,  
Who so much of him here can see?  
Chant in a fire of humble zeal,  
Soule-loosing hymns of restless weal.  
Ravished, and ravished, while we rest,  
Hugged in his aye-fomenting breast.  
Surrounded in a Maze of bliss:  
Distracted with felicities.  
While firmly resident in one  
In whom All knowables are known.  
The things that neither eye, ear heart,  
Can see hear think the milliont'h part:  
Who see nor love simplicity,  
Inf'nit invisibility.  
O what! what then! who this now, know!  
Yet know not aught, as w' ought to know!    


'tIs calm within, and so I sang before.  
'Tis calm without, so sing what sang before.  
My head-my heart-my hand shall sing  
My God my Prophet Priest and King.  
These three below with those above  
Shall make six parts unite in love.  
And so I sang in the extremest storm,  
And what else can I'n the serenest calm.    


O Teach thy servant to be humble,  
for the humble thou wilt teach.  
Let him see thee and he dies,  
and he lives for ever.  
Send forth thy Light and thy Truth,  
and let them lead him in thy presence.  
'Cause thy face to shine upon him,  
and it will teach him they statutes.  
Thy loving kindness is better than life,  
O let it never departed from him.  
O Comfort him with thy Apples,  
and refesh him with thy Cordials.  
For his soul is sick, is sick with love,  
O thou Discerner of hearts.  
Why are thy Chariot wheels so slow,  
How long shall he look out of the window!  
How, how long shall those beauties be masked,  
and the God of glory vailed!  
When shall this night of ignorance turn day,  
and these thick clouds be dispersed!  
Why hast thou shown thee and but shown thee,  
O fully, abidingly,  
Thou hast wounded his heart with thy glories,  
and it bleedeth inwardly.  
It sinks, it falls, it dies,  
for want of more wounding.  
'Tis sweetly embittered with thy inconceavable,  
thy insupportable Loves.  
What bounds can hold it, what thing detain it,  
what expressions describe it.  
How long shall it languish in thy strength  
and expire in thy breathe.  
O never never shall these gracious  
visitations forsake it.    


THus all my life's a course of seeking Thee,  
Who lived, who lost Thy life, in seeking me.  
Such is my faith, such shall my finding be,  
Whose love hath found the way to wait on Thee  
With righteous works, which can't extended be  
To Thee, but thou wilt meet so doing me.  
So running from myself to be  
Ingulph't in ever-blessed Thee.  
So twining streams in sweet confusion,  
Till know my Love without allusion;  
Closed in a Close without Conclusion.   
I have gasped after thy Salvation O Lord!  
Even so come Lord Jesus come quickly.