A SACRED POEM OF THE Glory and Happiness OF HEAVEN.  
By J. Shute  
LONDON, Printed in the Year MDCLXXXIX.   

THE GLORY and HAPPINESS OF HEAVEN.  

ABove the tallest most exalted View  
When stretched and lifted up by Optics too;  
Above the Convex of this Azure Vault  
So out of sight we can't tell what to call't,  
High above all that our Conceits can reach  
When sublimated to their utmost stretch,  
There is, what we call Heaven, a joyous State  
Too happy for a Guess to calculate:  
The greatest Riches that a Miser's Dream  
e'er conjured up to tempt and flatter him  
The most of Honour that a Monarch's Court  
Can give those Men that hunt and rival for't,  
The rarest Scenes that raptured Saints have viewed  
When Fancy wrought in a Prophetic Mood,  
Fall infinitely short of Heaven, and can't  
Yield Joys enough to treat or tempt a Saint:  
He to whose Palate nothing suits but Bliss  
Can't relish such ignoble Fare as this:  
Alas his noble Soul can't stoop to esteem  
Things so inglorious and unworthy him.   

Heaven has more Glory couched within a Point  
Than all this worthless scanty World has in't;  
'Tis guarded round with double Walls of Gold  
As hard to force as stately to behold,  
The Batteries which Damned Spirit's make  
 Scale its Bulwarks nor its Pillars shake  
Their Hellish Engines spend their Strength in vain  
For Bullets shot do but rebound again;  
The gay Embroid'ry of the Place invites  
All Admiration, and the gaudy Sights  
Which charm the Eye on every side proclaim  
The Power and Skill of him that wrought the same:  
'Tis garnished round with Light, and blazoned all  
With those bright Rays which from God's Image fall,  
Thrones and Dominions here in order stand  
Ranked in their Stations like a charging Band;  
Mansions like Leaves in their Autumnal Falls  
Lie scattered up and down on Pedastalls;  
Above hang Canopies of vast Extent  
Propped by the Power of God Omnipotent;  
Sceptres and Crowns of costly sorts here are  
Ranked and enshrined like Magazines of War;  
Pearls, Rubies and Diamonds in Clusters shine  
And hang like Grapes upon a fruitful Vine;  
The bright Piazza's of the Palace Court  
Are paved with Rubies of the richer sort;  
Three Royal Thrones all curiously wrought  
Carved by the Skill of an Almighty Thought  
Are fixed on a commanding Place, wherein  
The Father, Son, and Spirit Sat and Reign   

Their Crowns are charged with richer Pearls and more  
Than India yields or ever Aaron wore;  
And being triple-shaped they do imply  
The deep-layed Mystery of the Trinity;  
In Godhead these are One, in Will the same,  
Yet Three in Personality and Name.   

The Father's Looks are so divine, his Face  
Bears in its Visage such Majestic Grace,  
That 'tis a Happiness itself complete  
To be enabled to contemplate it:  
His aspect is so gravely great, and shows  
So much of Deity to him that views,  
That 'tis a Question managed in Disputes  
Which does it most This, or his Attributes;  
He's happy in himself, and's Creatures are  
Happy so far as they his Image bear.  
The Prospect of his Glory shines as bright  
In Hellish Darkness, as in Heaven's Light,  
He does enjoy his happy self as well  
Amidst the daring Blasphemies of Hell  
As the Saints Songs, but he has praise of Them  
Because they bless themselves in blessing Him:  
He is to them both Theatre and Stage  
And all they act is in his Personage  
His Selfsufficiency completely fills  
His Breast with Goodness, some of which distils  
In Drops of Love on all his Works, but this  
Is only what overflows from his Abyss:   

The Son the Second of the Three appears  
Bright with that Glory which his Image bears;  
His Throne is such as He that fills it, none  
Can fancy to be less than Three in One.  
The Host salute him God and jointly sing  
Hosannah's to their Prophet, Priest, and King;  
That yet these Functions are in act is true  
For Honour's paid him to each Office due.  
He's Prophet for his Spirit does reveal  
The dark Intendments of his Father's Will  
And working with his Word affords us Light,  
That shows us all the deep Designs of it.  
He's Priest and makes an Altar of his Throne  
To offer up the Church her Prayers on,  
His Intercession makes an Off ring good  
When hallowed with the Merits of his Blood.  
He's King, this by his Sceptre may be guest  
Besides his Presence speaks him such at least;  
His Church on Earth entitles him Supreme  
And all heavens Hierarchies second them.  
Embroidered thus with Offices, and dressed  
With all that speak one Beautiful or Blessed,  
He sits enthroned and naked to the View  
Of those that wonder and adore him too.   

The Holy Ghost the Last in Order shows  
Himself as great as Son or Father does.  
His Presence is Divine his looks do own  
A Grandeur proper to a God alone:  
The Beauty of his Image does express  
A shining, pure, untainted Holiness;  
His Graces sweeter Odours do present  
Than e'er Arabia from her Spices sent  
The Gifts wherewith he is embalmed descry  
The Sweetnesses that in his Nature lie   

The Grace and Greatness of his Presence draws  
The Eyes of all Spectators, where they pause  
Not out of Fear but Wonder while they see  
So much of Sweetness, Love, and Majesty:   

Before these Thrones the whole Celeftial throng  
Do Homage, Couching as they dance along,  
Where each devoutly on his bended Knee,  
laud's the distinct, but undivided Three;   

The Father's mighty Will and matchless Power  
Are what in Him they most of all adore;  
The Saints rejoice in these because they know  
These made them happy and will keep them so.  
They bless that Word whose mighty sound awoke,  
Dull lifeless Nothing to a World, and spoke  
A lumpish Chaos to a curious Frame,  
And still has governed and upheld the same.  
They reverence his Greatness most, and bow  
To the grave Grandeur of his Godly Brow.  
Their low respectful postures plainly prove  
Their filial Sense of his Paternal Love.  
They praise his Works below and sing them forth  
In Numbers measured to express their Worth,  
But when they view those Instances of Love,  
That make more Figure in his Works Above;  
When they survey the whole Celestial Sphere  
And paraphrase on all the Wonders there,  
They tune to higher strains and make their praise,  
Keep pace with what Deserts its Object has.  
So then God's Power most applauded seems  
Nay 'tis the Burden of their Sacred Hymns.   

The Sons Perfections they as much proclaim  
Couching in Homage to his Sacred Name.  
They honour him as Sovereign, and own  
How much they hold by Virtue of his Crown;  
They Style him Prince of Peace, and all accord  
In dutiful Allegiance to their Lord;  
His Name of Saviour sounds so sweet to all  
It makes their Raptures Epidemical.  
His bright unmantled Glory spreads its Rays  
And heats their spirits to delight and praise.  
Some his Humility extol, and some  
His Love that made Man from his Mansion come.  
Some his Example, some his Doctrine bless,  
Some his Compassion, some his Holiness;  
All join his Incarnation to adore  
That Blessing which begat ten thousand more.  
Thus all in tributary Songs applaud  
Their Prophet, Priest, their King and God.   

The Holy Ghost whose Godhead is the same  
Has Adoration proper to his Name.  
Those of his Excellences that appear  
In's Gifts and Graces most applauded are.  
Some bless him for those first Convictive Calls  
That kindly warned them against After-falls.  
Some for Converting Grace from whence they had  
Good Habits given to supersede the Bad.  
Some for his Promises that banished Cares  
And taught their Faith to overcome their Fears.  
Some for his Testifying Seal that gave  
Assurance of the Joys they hoped to have.   

Some for the Comforts of his Presence here  
Which cheered their Hearts whate'er their Sorrows were,  
Which after Trial of their Faith did quite  
Take off the Cross or make it sit but light.  
Some honour this, some That Grace most of All,  
Yet their discordant Praise is musical;  
For all in one harmoniously close  
As differing Music in a Chorus does.   

Thus Three in One and One in Three receive  
The personal Homage Holy Spirits give;  
But tho' They are distinctly blest, no One  
Has Praise for what the other Two have none;  
Neither in Glory or in Might excels  
But in Perfection they are Parallels.  
Yet this Description is not with Design  
To grasp the Godhead nor its Bounds define;  
To aim to scan or draw it out to view,  
Would be Presumption and lost Labour too:  
Who knows how God's distinctly Three in One  
And One in Three without Division?  
Who understands and will explain to me  
This numerous One and yet unnumbered Three?  
'Tis too Mysterious for our Faith to clear,  
He that believes must never reason here.  
'Tis Riddle to the Saints and little less  
To the deep Insight of an Angels Guess.  
Oh topless Pile of Mysteries! its Height  
Is undiscoverably out of Sight.  
Our Reason when it proudly tries to view  
Quickly grows giddy and confounded too:  
'Tis too much Light for Mortal Eyes to bear,  
'Tis inaccessibly Divine and clear;  
I aim not then by this descriptive Guests  
To found the Depth of what is bottomless.  
If any Verse shall make the Riddle known  
Some Angel-Laureat must drop it down;  
This Height will keep its Mystic Distance still  
In spite of Reason's counter-charming Skill;  
Since then the more I look the less I see  
Of what in Mercy is concealed from me,  
I'll henceforth plainly take the Three in One  
And mean them All when I name God alone.   

But as the Deity can ne'er admit  
A Short-armed Human Thought to fathom it,  
So punctually to copy out the Bliss  
Which to the Saints in Heaven dispensed is,  
Is more than Reason's able to direct  
Me to perform or any to expect;  
In Nature's Search we to the Cause advance  
Before we can inform our Ignorance;  
To judge of Acts we must their Objects know,  
Else as unlearned as when we came we go.  
So to proportion out the boundless Love,  
That is imparted to the Blessed Above;  
We ought to understand the Fountain whence  
These happy Souls derive their Influence.  
What's in th' Effect is in the Cause be sure,  
Streams won't run muddy if the Spring be pure.  
First to know God does necessary seem  
To know the Happiness of Souls in Him,   

But Spirits are so tightly fine  
They scape our Notices and pass unseen;  
And if our Reason can't discourse of These  
Who knows what God the Father of them is?  
So then I'll only speak my Thoughts and give  
This lose Account of what the Blessed receive;   

The Throne Imperial is encompassed round  
With Guardian-Angels to their Stations bound;  
These glittering Courtiers all of Royal Blood  
Seem by their Services to credit God;  
Each in the Brightness of his Glory spreads  
More Rays of Lustre than proud Phoebus sheds,  
But yet those Beams in which they shine so bright  
Are all reflected from Diviner Light.  
They borrow all their Beauty which would soon  
Decline and fade if God should hid his own.  
Their  Orders comlily agree  
And jointly make a graceful Symmetry.  
All know their Distance and devoutly give  
To God the Rights of his Prerogative:   

Next these there does another Order wait  
Of Being's less insufferably great,  
I mean the Saints whose Faith and Patience sought  
This Purchase which their Elder Brother bought;  
Whose thrifty Stewardship of Talents gained  
These large Possessions in the Holy Land;  
Of These, the Patriarches (from whom proceed  
The numerous Offspring called the Holy Seed)  
With all their pious Progeny beset  
Are here in Universal Council met.   

Hard by assembled in a spacious Sphere  
The grave Society of Prophets are;  
These are a Sage Prognosticating Race  
Exalted by the Chemistry of Grace,  
Above the Vulgar Saints; their Office proves  
Them more Divine by two or three Removes.  
They sit all clad in the Mysterious Dress  
Of Hieroglyphic Schemes and Images,  
The Pageantry of their Prophetic Dreams  
Is painted in their Robes, the Mystic Schemes  
Of Types and Visions drawn in Perspective,  
Make pictured Things seem to the Eye alive:  
Thus gaily dressed in particoloured Plumes  
They sit like Limners in their Image-Rooms:   

By these as near as Order will permit  
The grave Apostles in a Synod meet.  
These by their Presence would be guessed to be  
Committee-Saints or Patres Patriae;   

Hard by the Martyred Champions of the Cross  
That died least Life should be a public Loss,  
Whose Courage to the Death unshaken stood  
And wrote their Cause in Characters of Blood.  
Ranged in Battalia joyfully advance  
Their dear bought Spoils of Faith and Patience.   

These and a thick innumerable Host  
Swarming throughout the whole Celestial Coast,  
Stand all devoutly ready to fulfil  
The welcome Orders of their Maker's Will:  
And they are done just as they are embraced  
With a most Zealous Cautionary Hast;  
'Tis neither base nor servile to submit,  
They work Gods Will and will in working it;   

No Time nor Strength is in a Message spent  
The Errand's done as soons the Saint is sent;  
Thus God and They are pleased in that as soon  
As his Design is known to Them, 'tis done:  
Nor does their Zeal in Ministering decline  
Its strength is Energetic and Divine;  
It knows not Chills and is from Pauses free  
There acting where 'twould always active be;  
Thus the Employments which they here pursue  
Are both their Business and Diversion too:  
Delight is all they know, here's only That  
For Souls to feed upon and centre at:  
They find a happy Welcome here, and are  
Ennobled for the Dignities they wear.  
Their Souls and Bodies are refined and freed  
Of those Infirmities Corruption breed;  
They both receive such great Improvements here  
That they take leave of being what they were.   

The Soul now fashioned in a purer Mould  
Finds its New-make more noble than the old.  
Its Powers those of Intellect and Will  
Are much improved by Glory's Chymic Skill;  
Its Knowledge is not seconded with Fear  
Or jealous Doubts of some Delusion near;  
It learns but labours not nor is afraid  
It shall forget what in itself is laid;  
It knows by Intuition, and has got  
The sweet Advantage of the Shorter Cut;  
No cloudy Doubts do intercept its sight  
'Tis now embodied in a Vest of Light.  
Passion and prejudice are Things unknown  
And Ignorance that Brand of Sin is gone.  
Organs and Optics now would match it ill,  
Saul's Armour did but cumber David's Skill.  
These do but cheat and give a faithless Light  
Just like an Ignis Fatuus in the Night,  
Which treacherously leads the Pilgrim on  
Pretending Kindness when it means him none.  
It needs no painful searches to descry  
Where Truths tho' hide in Intricacy's lie,  
For all in naked view and prospect sit  
Unfolding even they Secrecies to it.  
It spies a series of Things without  
A gradual Discourse to find them out.  
It sees how amicably Truths cohere  
How  Notions clash and interfere;  
A Glance now brings more secrets on the Stage  
Than the less-fruitful Studies of an Age;  
Nor can Saints doubt or err for what they know  
Is sure in Object and in Subject too:  
Their Souls too thirsty to accept a stream  
Have here the Spring of Truth unlocked to them,  
And ah! how joyfully they bathe herein  
They drink till drinking makes them dry again.  
And sure this easy way of knowing can't  
But aggravate the pleasures of a Saint;  
To know himself to be directed right  
By the sure Guide of undeceived Light,  
To have all Cheats and Sophistry removed  
And see each Truth by its Exemplar proved;  
This cannot choose but please him and the more  
Because unhappy in his Doubts before.  
Alas imperfect Knowledge here on Earth  
Tho' 〈◊〉 to gain and painful in the Birth:   

Tho' mixed with Doubts and never sifted clean  
But some perplexities still intervene,  
Is thought the best Endowment Nature can  
Give to complete and gratify a man.  
'Tis true the search is long and far about  
Yet when a latent Truth is started out  
How comfortable is it then, how good  
To make a few Reviews and chew the Cud!  
This Men call Pleasure and pursue as such  
But that of Saints surpasses it by much;  
What the Soul knows on Earth is hardly gained,  
What here, like jacob's Venison comes to hand:  
Here't has the Garb of Light wherewith 'tis clad  
As cheap and easy as the Lilies had,  
It never brings a Matter to debate  
But knows it e'er it can deliberate.  
Alas their Knowledge is as quick and free  
As the Conception of a Thought can be.  
It takes the compass which their Fancies run  
whate'er they Will or wish to know is known.  
The Soul thus purged from Ignorance and Sin  
Is all Illumination within;  
'Tis pleased in knowing how it knows and doth  
Draw Pleasure from the Mode and Object both.  
Truth is its standing Banquet and the Feast  
Has Plenty fitted for the greedy Guest.   

The Understanding now awakened sees  
The Truth of Things it thought false Prophecies.  
A state of endless Pleasure once did seem  
The fond Illusion of a sickly Dream:  
Joys in Reversion were but gilded Lies  
And Heaven itself but some Fool's Paradise;  
And tho' Faith taught it some believing Skill  
Yet Carnal Scruples kept it doubting still;  
But now all faithless Jealousies are fled  
And full Assurance introduced instead;  
And Reason taught by what it has received  
Owns with a Witness all it disbelieved;   

The Will's now rectified and settled well  
In that free happy Frame from whence it fell;  
God's Goodness is its Object whose alone  
Yields an Infinity to act upon.  
How greedily it fastens here? it makes  
Eternal seizure on the Good it takes.  
It feeds as hungrily as if it knew  
Some Famine would the present feast ensue,  
And does the Zeal of its Approaches prove  
By the strong efforts of a sprightly Love.  
It gapes as if it thought its Nature might  
Suck in and swallow down the Infinite;  
It clasps about him, grasps, and grasps again  
Still thrusting out itself to take him in.  
It's passionate Embraces plainly show  
That 'tis enamoured and transported too.  
Thus 'tis employed and will for ever be  
Raptur'd in one Eternal Ecstasy.   

The Faculties of Soul being thus renewed  
Are balanced to their proper Rectitude.  
The Reason governs by prudential Skill  
ne'er Taxes nor exacts upon the Will,  
It's mild Decretals are embraced so soon  
As the least Intimation makes them known.   

The Will trained up on purpose to submit  
Is wholly tempered to comply with it;  
No Prejudices interrupt its Choice,  
No Passions bribe it to suspend its Voice,  
But what its Guide enjoins it straight obeys  
Without the least exceptionary Pause.  
The Reason's pleased that his proposals have  
Such kind Acceptance from his willing Slave.  
The Will is gladded too in that it knows,  
whate'er unerring Wisdom shall propose  
Must needs be good; and therefore loves to choose  
What would appear Self-murder to refuse.  
Thus both are pleased and from their being so  
Proceeds the greatest pleasure Spirits know.   

The Fancy too has here a lovely Scene  
Of beauteous Visions to entertain,  
All Heaven's Glories in one Object meet,  
That all at once may always ravish it;  
Nay 'tis delighted to so strange a Height  
It has the Joys it can itself create:  
Those tempting pleasures which a working Brain  
Can paint in prospect to delude a man,  
Their Fancy's here by an Almighty Power  
Can reallize; and raise ten Thousand more.  
Thus 'tis employed Eternally to seize,  
Some New-found-Lands of Joy and Happiness.   

The Soul thus pure, the Body must be dressed  
To welcome in this Honourable Guest:  
Which when the Dormitories shall resign  
The Sacred Dust of Saints they did enshrine;  
When Graves shall offer up their Dead and give  
All to an Atom which they did receive,  
Shall be accomplished to the great Delight  
Of all that view the Glory of the Sight;  
The scattered Portions reunited then  
Shall to their Bodies be composed again.  
Which being new-informed and nobler made  
Shall reassume the former Souls they had.  
But no pale Face, no feeble Joints presume  
To enter, here no peccant Humours come  
To usher Sickness in, no sense of pain  
No Weaknesses or Lassitude remain;  
All the Infirmities of Youth and Age  
Are forced to vanish and decline the Stage.  
For tho' the Body risen yet these must stay  
Where the Soul left them when it fled away.  
And here it does a new Dimension gain  
As glorious as its Nature can sustain;  
A just proportion is to it assigned  
It leaves all gross ignoble parts behind;  
Corruptions and Infirmities are gone  
And a new livelier Image fastened on.  
Consistency must always be its state  
Wherein it shines pure and immaculate;  
It can not Youth nor Age from Time receive,  
But in Eternal Springs of Years shall live;  
It lives, but to Declension ne'er shall grow  
Its budding Verdure shall no Autumn know.  
It's Countenance does such a freshness yield,  
As baffles far the Glories of the Field.  
Such Lights and Flames its Visage does disperse  
As would illuminate the Universe.  
Its Senses also great Advancements gain  
Fit for the Objects they must entertain:   

Senses I call them still, but 'tis for want  
Of Terms more proper and significant;  
Nor do all these perhaps admittance find,  
'Tis probable that some are left behind,  
As Taste and Smell; but all do Hear and See  
Else when shall Faith to Vision changed be?  
Which Two I think are so endowed that they  
Have all their Imperfections purged away.  
For if by Grace we're changed from what we were  
Why should not Glory make such Changes here?  
But whether here are Some, or All, or None  
To own or not is free for any One.  
This we believe, All Requisites concur  
To make the Body glorious and pure.   

Body and Soul thus dignified are dressed  
To solemnize a second Marriage Feast.  
No jarring Faculties untune the Soul  
But all conform to Reason's Music Rule.  
Its Thoughts are calm and find an easy Vent,  
Its Passions are all Love and Merriment;  
Its Humours even, sociable, and sweet,  
Its Pleasures constant and intensely great;  
Its Virtues all are consonantly tuned  
And dance in Consort when they run their Round.  
No cross Propensions counterstrive within,  
No stubborn Humours clash and intervene;  
No Aversations cramp the Will's Decrees,  
No Stops arrest it in its Purposes.  
But all such civil Altercations cease  
And usher in an universal Peace;   

The Body too is well in Frame, the Tongue  
Speaks of no Parts that suffer Want or Wrong;  
All factious Insurrections are suppressed,  
Its Work is Ease, and all its Labours Rest.  
No sickly Fast made its Beauty Fade,  
No Pains nor Hardships do its Strength invade;  
The Veins are Channels only to convey  
The Peaceful Inundations of Joy.  
The Nerves grow big and consciously proud  
As being inspirited with nobler Blood.  
All parts in their Relation to the whole  
Do dutifully join to serve the Soul.  
Whose Precepts being mild the Body has  
An easier Service than its former was.  
Thus One has no Rebellious Lusts to tame,  
The other no Severities to blame;  
But both their mutual Affections prove.  
By interchangeable Returns of Love.   

Now when th' Elect shall from the Quarters come  
To be possessed of their Eternal Home  
When at the Judgement of the Just the Saints  
Shall take their ultimate Accomplishments.  
Then Soul and Body shall unite, that Both  
When joined may make what neither single doth.  
What joyful Ecchoing will then rebound?  
How will the Cloisters and Piazzas sound?  
What Acclamations will the Legions make?  
How will the Kingdom and its Pillars shake?  
What a glad aspect will the Heavens wear  
When this great Marriage Rites in Action are?  
How will Praise sound amidst the jolly Crew  
When every Saint is Bride and Bridegroom too?  
Oh blessed Harmony when All in One,  
Sing sacred Hymens in a Bridal Tune!  
This glad triumphant Day Blessed Spirits state  
The Epocha for their Eternal Date;  
So will I date these Lines, and as I go  
Still take that Time as if 'twas present now.   

Now Divine Wisdom does itself reveal  
And all those Depths it did so long conceal;  
Ah what a lovely sight is This? and how  
Do Saints in Praise and Admiration bow!  
How does it gratify their Souls to see  
The faithful Records of Eternity!  
These Legends show how God did first create  
Things in that Order they continue yet.  
These Comment on the World and represent  
A Modul of its Make and Government.  
They teach them how his grand Designs were laid,  
What Issues and Results his Counsels had,  
How his deep Thoughts and Purposes were wrought  
To that effect which most advantage brought.  
The Southern Queen thought it a happy Thing  
To hear the Wisdom of a Jewish King;  
But here's that Happiness as much out-don  
As God is Wiser than King Solomon.   

His Power also stands in View, and shows  
Itself as Glorious as his Wisdom does,  
'Tis neither terrible to view nor meet  
Allays of Love do so attemper it.  
On Earth his Presence dreadful we believe  
We know we can't behold his Face and live;  
But here these Bosom-Favourites do treat  
With God their sovereign as their Intimate:  
Now they delight to see and feel the hand  
That fixed the Heavens in the Place they stand,  
That raised this Earthly Frame, and did subdue  
The Power of Men and Rage of Devils too.  
That saved his Flock when Wolves about it stood  
Threatening its Death thirsting for its Blood.  
That turned the Wheel of Providence about  
And ordered all things that were fastened to't.  
That made cross Dispensations work for Good,  
And all things work as 'twas his Will they should  
The sight of this so heightens their delight  
That all their Joys are aggravated by't;   

If Power and Wisdom so delightful are  
How will the Aspects of his Love appear?  
Sure this endearing Spectacle does want  
Nought that may ravish and transport a Saint;  
When Love shall show itself without a Veil  
And nothing of its Loveliness conceal;  
When it shall smile without a frown and dart  
Its Beams direct to the Spectators Heart.  
When Saints shall see that gracious Breast wherein  
Love from Eternity has active been,  
Whence all designs of Mercy did proceed,  
Where all great Acts of Grace were born and bred:  
When they shall see what made God's only Son  
Put off his Glory and desert his Throne.  
What made him condescend to take a Birth  
And pitch his Tabernacle here on Earth.  
Why 'twas that he with such submission died  
And prayed that he might live who pierced his side?  
Their Souls sing Anthems with a freer Vent  
Being rapt beyond themselves in Ravishment;  
Let him that can their Joyfulness express  
I want confine it to my scanty Guests.   

And as the sight of these foments their Bliss  
So does the prospect of his Holiness.  
Alas this cannot choose but give Delight  
They live and move and have their Being's by't;  
Self-Love would make them long to have this seen  
Being what themselves are made and moulded in;  
To see a Being so intensely pure  
That nothing can exalt or drain it more;  
A Nature so untaintedly Divine,  
So spiritually spotless, and so fine;  
So simple, lovely, and endearing too,  
Must needs exasperate their Joys anew.   

Thus these Perfections and as many more  
As endless Sums can add unto the score,  
Or God that owns them only knows are seen,  
By those glad Eyes which always suck them in;  
And what a Prospect entertains their sight  
With an unbounded Province of Delight;  
In him there are so many Things that call  
For Admiration, that the Angels all  
Together with the Saints still eye their God  
And hover in the Light of his Abode:  
Now Happiness is all they do pursue  
They've that of Vision and Fruition too.  
Their full eyed Souls have now a strength to bear  
God's Glory tho' its Brightness does appear.  
They're so intent on Vision, that they seem  
To pray on God whilst they are viewing him;  
Their Eyes behold with such a thirsty Zeal  
That where they set them first they settle still;  
They look till what they for their Object had,  
By Transformation is their Being's made.  
For God, while they behold him, does impart  
Some of himself to each Spectators Heart,  
And still the more they look the more they seem  
To have of what they view and praise in him;  
And thus his Likeness is impressed and wrought  
In all the Parts and Powers the Saints have got.  
'Tis stamped in lively Lines, its parts are all  
Drawn full and perfect, clear and symmetral.  
This Image is not like an outward Grace  
Drawn to embellish and adorn a Face,  
'Tis rather radicated and innate  
Wholly transformative and intimate;  
It is the Principle that does begin  
Eternal Peace and Harmony within;  
By this the Soul in Act and Habit too,  
Is taught its Good and Glory to pursue;  
'Tis wholly bend on Duty and does own  
That Happiness and That is all but one.  
Now holy Actings are in Flux, and run  
Free from their Souls like Atoms from the Sun.  
Each Action now is ravishing and sweet  
Such large Rewards of Pleasure wait on it.  
Each Saint is now so beautiful and bright  
He is the Object of his own Delight.  
Ah how it does Solace his Soul to make  
Surveys upon himself, to search and see  
How the Impression and the Seal agree?  
To see how Glory has transformed him all,  
How the Draught answers the Original?  
To see himself made one with God, from whom  
All his sweet Incomes and Illapses come?   

How does this heighten and enhance their Bliss?  
What Transports do their ravished Looks confess?  
They tune so many Anthems that the Host  
Do sing till Praise be in their Numbers lost.  
They clap their Hands and Wings for Joy, and run  
In endless Coronets about the Throne:  
And this they do with as familiar Ease  
As they themselves can think of what they please;  
For being like Orbs, all to their Stations bound  
God's Central Magnetism draws them round.  
Thus they are happily employed and feel  
More Joys than we or they themselves can tell;  
Nay, they are glorified to such Degree  
As to affirm must needs be Blasphemy.  
Or high Presumption, had not God the Lord  
Strongly confirmed it in his Sacred Word.  
Who else dares say for fear he should Blaspheme  
That Saints are one with Christ and He with Them?  
Or say (methinks even now it sounds profane)  
They dwell in God, and God in Them I mean.  
These Heights of Speech (which Reason can't conceive  
And therefore is engaged to disbelieve)  
We question not, for Faith forbids Distrust  
And tells us This we would believe and must.  
God's more to Them than Souls to Bodies are  
Through him they act, and ever acting were.  
He and They truly correspond (like Doves)  
In joint Reciprocation of Loves.  
They possess Him, and are of Him possessed;  
Thus He in Them, and They in Him are blest.  
From which uniting Juncture does ensue  
Immediate Intercourse of Action too.  
On Earth we Interceptions meet, but here  
Their Joys with Grief ne'er interrupted are;  
Gladness is all their Soul, they can't conceive  
What 'tis to be disconsolate or grieve;  
Their pampered Wills no Disappointments know  
They're always pleased and always would be so:  
Delights no Measure, Joys no mixture bring;  
But both from pure unwasted Fountain's Spring:  
They have a Heaven fully to enjoy,  
Where neither Want does pinch, nor Plenty cloy.  
Their luscious Pleasures surfeit to delight,  
They always eat to gain an Appetite.  
Joys in Reversion once, are now possessed;  
And Love in Motion's changed to Love in Rest.  
Desire is made Delight, and Hopes that were  
Mixed with Misgivings, have Assurance here.  
They swim in pleasantness, and always find  
Fresh Banquets to caress and feast the Mind;  
Nay what yet swells their Joy, they know its date  
Is too long-lived for Time to terminate.  
They know their Sun of Glory shall ne'er set,  
They'd lose Heaven did they fear the losing it;  
'Tis sure for Christ has signed it with his Blood,  
And God has bailed his Truth to make it good.  
Their Paradise is built too firm to fall  
For Truth and Promises composed it all,  
Love is its Cement, Christ the Corner Stone,  
And God the Basis which 'tis built upon.  
What great Additions do the Thoughts of This  
Bring to enlarge and stretch their Happiness.  
To think that Heaven when Time is past and gone  
Shall be as new as when it first begun:   

That when innumerable Years are passed  
Their Joys shall still retain their Virgin Taste.  
This makes their Mirth more pallateable still,  
As sweet Infusions in a Cordial will;  
To think the Feast they eat so gladly now  
Shall still be plentiful and pleasant too.  
To think their Appetites shall ne'er forbear  
To be as keen as they at present are;  
And that their Feast shall be as luscious still  
And as continual as their Stomaches will;  
This blessed Assurance glads their Spirits more  
Than any single Joy they had before:  
For taking thus Eternity in View  
Makes all its future Pleasures present too.  
Each single Comfort carries in its Womb  
The luscious Foretaste of still more to come.  
One brings the relish of the rest in hand  
As Joshua's Grapes did of the Promised Land.  
Their Joys are ne'er adjourned but always near  
For Expectation is Enjoyment here.  
Thus all have now Eternity of Bliss  
And yet 'tis still in prospect to possess.  
This aggravates their Joys and screws their Thoughts,  
To Heights scarce vented in Seraphic Notes;  
Each in his proper Sphere of Duty pays  
His honorary Tribute of Applause;  
Just as the thankful Birds devoutly sing  
Their Matins to the Goddess of the Spring;  
Hymns and hosannah's from all Quarters sung  
Is all that can be heard amidst the Throng.  
And that must needs be an Harmonious Noise  
Where Mirth and Melody do counterpoise;  
Anthems and hallelujahs rise in Swarms  
And sound to Praise as Trumpets do to Arms;  
They sing so sweetly, and so long, they seem  
To be all Lungs or what's instead of Them;  
Ah with what Joy these jocund Spirits move  
Round in the Orb of God's suffusive Love!  
Their Souls so strut with Joyfulness that some  
Take up even Heaven itself for Elbow-room.  
Ointments of Love still sweetening as they fall  
Bedew, embalm, and overrun them all:  
Thus are they all delighting in their God  
And gladded with their Being and Abode:  
Glory is shared, in common all unite  
In one Community of Love and Light;  
Here are no Guardians of forbidden Fruit,  
But Happiness is free and prostitute:  
Yet Blessedness has its Degrees, nay such  
As make the Blessed Spirits differ much:  
Glory is carved and parcell'd out, but yet  
Its Portions are not all commensurate.  
Heaven is no lawless lev'lling Anarchy  
But a Monarchical Theocrisie;  
And therefore 've no reason to conclude  
That all are uniformly Great or Good.  
In Monarchies we own the King Supreme,  
The Prince's next, the Viceroy next to Them;  
And so through all Degrees which represent  
The great Decorum of a Government.  
So Here, JEHOVAH supersedes the State,  
Beneath his Footstool Seraphims are set;  
Next Cherubims, and Thrones, Dominions then,  
So till we take the Hierarchy in;  
As Angels, so no doubt but Saints do bear  
Their gradual subordinations here;  
The Elders are a Rank of Worth, but yet  
Th' Apostles Order is transcending that,  
For They with Christ as Sacred Writings tell  
Shall judge the Tribes the Twelve of Israel:  
To each God gives that Portion of his Love  
To which by Faith he did a Title prove:  
Each Order and Degree of Grace shall meet  
A Form in Glory that shall answer it:  
He whose five Talents gained five more, and He  
Whose Two, got Two, do differ in Degree.  
A Patron of Religion shall have Store  
Of Glorious Dowry's but a Martyr more:  
A late Repentant shall have Room prepared,  
But long Obedience shall have large Reward.  
Yet though they differ he that has the least  
Has what contents his Will and fills his Breast  
He has as much as he can grasp, his soul  
Is complacentially stuffed and full;  
He murmurs not that other Saints have more  
Or He has least, but rather does adore  
In Love and Gratitude his God that gave  
What He enjoys and all his Fellows have:  
Such are the Dignities, they here abide  
As those to whom they're given are qualified;  
All their Perfections are arrayed and dressed  
To suit those Powers by which they are possessed:  
For were they modelled more or less to crave  
Than by Eternal Charter they can have,  
'Twould bate so much of Happiness, 'twould be  
The long complaint of Endless Misery;  
If they had more than they could bear the Weight  
Finding no Powers to preponderate;  
Would in the Cruelty of Kindness kill  
And press their Souls from Heaven into Hell.  
If less they'd still be hunting in Pursuit  
Of what must ever be forbidden Fruit.  
Thus disappointments would torment the Mind  
Finding itself for Misery designed;  
So that if This, This also must be true  
That Saints are happy and unhappy too.  
There's none but Graduates in Grace that e'er  
Commenced a Degree in Glory Here.  
But those good Works which ushered in the Saints  
Now being useless are excluded hence;  
Mercy is needless in this happy state  
For Misery can no Admittance get.  
Here are no sick to visit or bemoan  
For all are healthy and Immortal grown.  
Here Hospitality unpractised lies  
And Burial of the Dead for Nothing dies.  
Here are no Foes to reconcile, no Need  
Of Interceding, They are all agreed:  
And sure where works of Mercy find no Room  
Those of Necessity must never come.  
No Heat nor Cold can ever them molest  
For, by a wonder not to be expressed,  
That Sun who by his Heat does them relieve  
Does by his Shadow also shelter give;  
Through Exercise they neither sleep nor faint  
Because their Labours no Repose does want.   

Their hardest Work is easy to Delight  
And ne'er impairs but reinforces Might;  
And as their Power is able so their Will  
Is likewise vigorous and active still;  
Love consecrates their Services and Zeal  
Gives Oil and Motion unto Duties Wheel:  
Nor is it servile to obey the Saints  
While they submit are in their Elements;  
Nay they attend Gods Will as much or more  
Than Arctic Needles do the Magnet's Power.  
And being delighted in the Work they do  
They act in Rest, and rest in Action too.  
Their Wills are tuned to Gods, and all in One  
Do Echo in Consent when his is known.  
These and innumerable Millions more  
Of unknown Pleasures treasured up in store,  
Are plentifully on the Saints bestowed  
By their freehearted openhanded God.  
It can't be thought with what Delight they move  
In endless Circles of repeated Love:  
With what exalted Melody they sing  
The Song of Canaan unto Judah's King:  
Their dissolved Souls even drop in Mirth and Zeal,  
And run as Metals melt with Lightning will:  
Pleasure is all they know or do possess  
They breathe no Air but Joy and Happiness:  
Now Glory Triumphs, Praise is fully Crowned,  
And Songs of Jubilee (whose joyous sound  
Echoes in Tune) are ravishingly Sung  
By the joint Voices of the Jolly Throng:  
Joys do commence the Height of Heights and flow  
From Springs that neither Banks nor Bottom know.  
Their Souls are lost like Things in an Abyss,  
In Trances of ungovernable Bliss;  
Their Joys ne'er fail them, but are still renewed  
In endless Transports of Beatitude.  
For this they ever bless their God, and seem  
As sacrificed in Flames of Love to him.   

Let Silence speak the rest and Faith believe  
'Tis far beyond their Hopes what Saints receive;  
Our Thoughts of Glory are too dwarfish still  
And all drop short as charmed Bullets will;  
'Tis neither Faith nor Fancy can pretend  
To know its Height or Depth, its Breadth or End.  
The only Thought that can describe this State,  
Is to think what you cannot Think, 'Tis That.    

THE REVIEW.  

IS it thus then? Is all that Reason saith  
As short of Heaven as Folly is of Faith?  
Is Glory hid from our presumptuous sight  
By the dark Veil of its obscuring Light?  
Does Reason after Trial made, confess  
Its Depth unfathomably Bottomless?  
And is my Soul whom Toys and Follies please  
Born Heir expectant of such Joys as these?  
Will Faith and Patience by an Act of Grace  
Entitle me to this Triumphant Place?  
Farewell all sublunary Joys, be gone  
You empty Shadows I once doted on.  
All Earth's evanid Glories I despise,  
Here are no Objects that shall tempt my Eyes.  
I am resolved to follow and pursue  
The Heaven which Faith not Fancy leads me to.  
'Tis thee, O God I will design who art  
The Peace and Portion of my Better Part.  
Farewell ye fruitless Vanity of Youth  
The frothy Fits of Pride and Passion both:  
Farewell those thrifty and ambitious Crimes  
Which pass for Virtues in these Modish Times.  
What's an Estate that I should toil and sweat  
Or pawn this Happiness to purchase it?  
Miser's are happy only in their dream  
When fancied Heaps of Riches real seem,  
For when the Visionary cheat is o'er  
With a rich Sigh they Sigh for waking Poor.  
What is a Name? 'Tis Nothing in disguise,  
A Bubble dressed in gilded Vanities;  
There's Nothing solid in it to be found,  
'Tis empty Things that yield and spread a sound;  
The Noise that does from men's Applauses come  
Is like the empty Loudness of a Drum.  
These Toys so highly prized, so much embraced  
By some, I once more bid Farewell in Hast:  
Farewell my Friends and dear Enjoyments too,  
Nay I must bid my former self adieu.  
I have but one thing of this World to crave  
And that's the parting Kindness of a Grave;  
If I must pay for't, I'll not give Receipt  
But leave my Body Prisoner for the Debt.  
I am designed, if nothing spoils my Aim,  
A Pilgrim to the New Jerusalem.  
This is my Purpose, and I hope 'twill stand  
Till I set Footing in the Holy Land:  
Let Egypt be forgotten and forsook  
I want give Sodom a recanting Look.  
But let the progress of my Journey show  
That I was willing and Believing too.  
Mount then my Soul and make thy full Career  
ne'er stop till thou must stop thy Courser there.  
Lift up thy lowly Stature now and View  
What 'tis the Promises invite Thee to?  
Rouse up thyself, shake of these Bands that keep  
Thy Powers entombed in a Lethargic sleep.  
Get th' Innocence and Pinions of a Dove  
Then clip away unto thy Rest above:   

But why so Careless, Sluggish and remiss  
In Business so importunate as this?  
Ah how I'm plagued with an unwilling Mind!  
It shows Averseness while it lags behind!  
Dost sin or sleep out all thy Days, and yet  
Hope to awake in this most joyous State?  
Wouldst thou have Holiness perfected there  
But hate to have't initiated here?  
Ah Carnal Madness! how its Actions run  
Quite to unravel what thy Hopes had spun?  
Has he a Harvest that neglects to Sow?  
Do Oaks arise where Acorns never grow?  
Come then adjourn these unbelieving Dreams  
Earth is not such a Heaven as it seems.  
Dost not perceive what fatal Dangers nigh  
Life lies most open in a closed Eye.  
Shake off these drowsy Humours and prepare  
For the accounting at the Judgement Bar!  
Don't think that Heaven is the Gift of Fate,  
That Souls are saved as chance shall arbitrate;  
But know thy Actions Good or Bad must take  
That Retribution which thy Judge shall make.  
Now thou'rt Probationer for that Reward  
Which God has for the Virtuous prepared.  
The Elements of Glory must be wrought  
On Earth, its seed must be by Grace begot,  
A Gracious Frame and Disposition Here  
Is the promotive of a Glorious There:  
Well then be wise and busily employ  
The Present Seeds-time of Eternal Joy!   

But while I reason thus my Soul does mourn  
And Sighs me out this sorrowful Return.  
My Powers are feeble, and my strength is weak.  
When I've a Will, I want a Tongue to speak.  
I look to Heaven with a longing Eye  
Spreading my willing Wings but cannot fly.  
I strive to rise but my Attempts are vain  
Or if I do Earth tugs me down again:  
Sometimes my Passions so pervert my Will  
That when I know the Good I chose the iii.  
A pious Purpose seldom comes to good  
Some cross Temptation nips it in the Bud.  
Sometimes a sudden Flash of Sacred Heat  
Inflames my Temper to a Zealous sweat  
But suddenly this hasty Fit goes o'er  
And then my Heart grows lifeless as before;  
As a young Exhalation newly fled  
Aspiring upwards scorns its dusty Bed  
And straight means Heaven, but cooling into Rain  
Becomes more pursy and drops down again;  
Just so's my Love, at its first launching out  
It scorns I should its Perseverance doubt,  
'Tis so presumptuous and so hot withal,  
'Twont take Discretion for a Social;  
But as it mount this short-lived Heat abates  
Passion declines and Zeal degenerates.  
It's hasty Proffers were too nice and young  
To bear the Hardship of Attendance long;  
And thus my Love unfeathered when it fled  
Wants Wings to bear it whither it decreed;  
Then Carnal Thoughts to their own Centre bound,  
First make it Earthy, and then drag it down:  
And thus my State too evidently such  
Calls more for Help and Pity than Reproach.   

Poor helpless Slave, to thee, O Christ I cry  
Who had 〈◊〉 fleshly Cage as well as I.  
O give 〈…〉 set the Captive free,  
And teach 〈…〉 use my Liberty;  
Let no good 〈…〉 Praise, nor Will to Love,  
For want of thee to help, Abortive prove.  
Favour such Actions, let their Progress show  
Thy kind Acceptance and Concurrence too.  
First hollow my Affections, then excite  
Some vigorous Energy and Appetite;  
Then give a Power whose unresisted Force,  
May bear me out in a Religious Course;  
First cleanse my Soul, then bid thy Spirit come  
And make the Closet of my Heart its Home.  
Then I shall have some previous Gusts and feel  
The complacential Relishes of Zeal:  
Why should I richly starve, or hungry live,  
When Hopes and Promises such Plenty give?  
Let me know sometimes by an Antepast  
How sweet heavens Joys in Prelibation taste.  
Shed some Illapses of thy Love, impart  
Some Interviews of Glory to my Heart!  
Why is thy Image veiled? 'Tis seldom seen  
So much Eclipse, but when Sins intervene:  
If that's the cause let Mercy's Beams affright  
These Hellish Clouds that make so black a Night.  
Unmask thy Visage, not to weak-eyed Sense  
But give my better sighted Faith a Glance:  
Give me some Pledge by which I may be tied  
Lest Carnal Scruples plead my Bargain void;  
Nay I am apt to Merchandise away  
A future Kingdom for a present Toy.  
Feed me with Promises, when that won't do't  
Let Faith be chewing on an Attribute;  
Let neither Fears nor Unbelief prevent  
My firm Assurance nor my full Consent.  
But let Faith guide me by a skilful hand,  
And guard my Passage to the Promised Land.  
Keep my Soul praying, and dispose it that  
Its intermittent Pulse thy Praises beat.  
Give me such Courage as shall make me fit  
To cope with all Discouragements I meet;  
Such full Belief as shall not leave me Room  
To doubt the Truth or Worth of Joys to come;  
Such Patience as shall make me calmly wait  
The happy time of my Exchange of State;  
Till when I'll joy in hope of what shall be  
Fully unbosomed and revealed to me.   
FINIS.