GRAPES FROM CANAAN; OR THE Believers present taste of future Glory: Expressed in a short Divine POEM, The issue of spare Hours: And Published at the Request, and for the Entertainment of those whose hopes are above their present enjoyments.  
1 Cor. 13.12. For now we see through a glass;, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part, but then shall I know, even as also I am known.  
1 Joh. 3.2.— Now are we the sons of God, and it doth not appear yet what we shall be; but we know, that when he shall appear, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.  
London, Printed by T. L. for the Author, and are to be sold at the sign of the Greyhound in Paul's Churchyard, 1658.   

To the Right Honourable, Francis Rous Esq; Provost of Eton, and one of the Council to his Highness the Lord Protector.  
Honourable Sir,  
I Hope You will not conceive that I hold any Compliance with the scribbling humour of this age, or that as dark as I am, I should so little see into myself, as not to know my rude and undigested Labours unworthy public light: When I first designed within myself the composure of this ensuing Poem, my Thoughts were not in the least tendency for a Publication; yet through the persuasion of some Friends (whose better judgements I could not but value above mine own private Opinion) I have sont my unfledged Muse abroad into the World, humbly assuming the boldness to shroud it under the wing of Your Honour's Protection, assuring myself it will find the better welcome for the name of the Patron. Sir, This small Manuel, I confess, comes towards you untrimmed, its Innocency being its best Dress, and its Poetry lying more in Feet than Fancy; yet is it Orthodox, I hope, and Theologically substantial: The subject matter is Divine, answering Your Affections; Sublime, not unbeseeming Your Personage; most Necessary, and therefore not unworthy Your serious Thoughts. And for the Meanness of the Author, the Heathen man pleads for me; Non quis, sed quid dicit attendito, not who speaks, but what is spoken aught to be considered. This little Volume, as it proceeds from me, hath not the least enforcement of a Tolle, lege, written upon it, yet (not to disown the in-coming of Divine assistance) like the stone Garamantides, habet intus Aureas guttas, it hath Golden Drops within itself, enriching the believing Soul with a lively hope of a blissful immortality. My principal inducement of Dedicating this to Your Honour, is, the remembrance of undserved Favours, which challenge more than an airy Compliment at my hands. The sing alar Love and Respect You bore to my good Father while he lived, and the real Testimony of Your continued Affection to myself, hath engaged my most active Thoughts to study something which may in some measure render me sensible of both; These few lines therefore, the first Fruits of my weaker Attainments of this Nature, I present with all Humility to Your Acceptance, in hope that as they may prove a Mite cast into the Treasure of GOD'S glory and the public good, so they will signify to Your Honour a Mind sensible of, and a Heart thankful for the many free and noble Favours vouchsafed to my Relations and myself. Sir, I am very confident Your judicious Eye may running read many rude unpolished Lines in this Draught of Eternity; and therefore I make it my humble Request, That as the Painter of old drew Alexander with his finger upon his defective Eye; So Your known Candour would put a favourable gloss upon my imperfections, and dash out my Errata by a charitable connivance. In the confidence whereof I shall only raise the Application of my humble Suit to Almighty God, That he would make You no less faithful in, than able for his Service, that after You have had a glimpse of his glory in the Kingdom of Grace. You may have a fullness of his grace in the Kingdom of Glory; with the which Thoughts upon my Heart in the best seasons of my Soul, I shall be ever ready to approve myself  
Your Honour's humble Servant, in the Faith of Christ, Francis Taylor.   

The Author to the Christian READER.  

PLace not on earth thy chief delight,  
In which there is more black than white:  
Who set their Hearts on things below,  
And on the World their Thoughts bestow,  
Of Heaven's joy they little know.   

Earth's a Impostumated Bubble,  
A Map of Misery and Trouble;  
Our Silver here is mixed with Dross,  
Our sweet with sour, our gain with loss,  
No comfort here without a cross.   

Let Heaven be thy Meditation,  
Climb thither in thy Contemplation;  
Who such a Pearl have in their eye,  
The world's Enjoyments by and by  
Will trample on as Vanity.   

No seeds of woe are to be found  
I'th' furrows of that holy ground;  
Yea that Celestial Paradise  
A stranger is to sin and vice,  
No Serpent there is to entice.   

 Death thy Body in the womb  
Of Mother-Earth again entomb,  
Be sure to get an interest  
In that prepared place of rest,  
Whose happiness can't be expressed.   

Bid Earth adieu, and fix thy Love  
Upon those endless joys above;  
Let no Decoy thy Heart entice,  
But still pursue the Pearl of Price,  
Till thou arrive in Paradise.    

Deo, Opt. Max.  

THou great Jehovah, who alone dost dwell  
In Light, and Glory inaccessible,  
My mind enlighten, help me to unfold  
The glory that those blessed ones behold,  
Who are translated far above the sky,  
Into the Region of Eternity.  
Inspire, and actuate my trembling Muse  
With heavenly Raptures, let thy power infuse  
Into her, such a rare activity,  
That she, above the dreggy earth may fly,  
And be ambitious of a glimpse at least  
Of glory, and the Saints eternal rest.  
Clear up her purblind eye, that she may see  
Within the vail, what ever is to be  
Seen by the eye of Faith, and may descry  
The blessed Mansions in Eternity:  
Then touch her stammering tongue, that she their glory  
May pencil out with thine own Oratory,  
Which best befits a subject so divine,  
And makes it with the greater lustre shine.  
The Gordian knot of glory to untie  
Would puzzle the acutest ingeny.  
O let thy wisdom then, my thoughts direct,  
Unveil my dark and clouded intellect.  
Guide my unskilful hand, that so I may  
Without a blot, heaven's happiness portray.  
This is indeed, a mountain too sublime  
For such an infant Muse as mine to climb:  
Yet if thy sacred spirit lead the way  
And me conduct, (for which I humbly pray)  
I shall adventure, briefly to relate  
And draw a Map, of the eternal state  
Of those, who in the fragrant bosom lie,  
Of soul inamouring felicity.  
And since this is a task, that doth require  
The lofty airs of an Angelic Lyre;  
Yea, since it is a subject so profound;  
An Ocean, that no bottom hath, nor bound;  
I thee implore (and Lord grant my desire)  
That what I can't express, I may admire.    


To his Honoured Cousin, Mr. Francis Taylor, upon his Divine Poem. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
— 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Et Paulo Post. v. 63. 
Homer Odies. θ. v. 43. 
Ubi forsan seipsum respexisse videatur, qua vulgari fama coecus perhibetur.    
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  

What Singer's this the Poet calls for thus?  
Me thinks Dear Tailor thou'rt this Demodocus.  
'Tis thine Urania, that hath given thee,  
Instead of eyes, this vein of Poesy.   

Thou seest not Earth, yet piercest Heaven, thine eye  
Is more sublime, beholds Eternity.  
The glaring lustres of the world may please  
The lusts of sensual eyes; but none of these  
Have aught of real Glory in their sight  
Whose souls are filled with a diviner light.  
This heavenly light adorns thy nobler mind,  
The world's mistaken, that accounts thee blind:  
A veil 'tis true is drawn over thy sense,  
Yet not without a gracious Providence.  
For thus thy God hath made the world to thee  
Known as it is, and what't will ever be,  
Even darkness still. This hath thy glory been  
While th' Curtain's drawn without, thou'rt light within.  
And here thou hast th' advantage too, while we,  
That fond please ourselves, and say we see,  
Yet must confess, so long as day and night  
Do keep their constant turns, darkness and light  
Have their successions in us, and that all  
The light, we have, is but an interval.  
These changes touch not thee, to whom (we say)  
'Tis ever dark, and yet 'tis ever day.  
Thy soul beholds that glory, and that crown, 
* 1 Cor. 2.9.  Which never yet to mortal eye was shown.  
So true is that even in Philosophy,  
'Tis not the eye, the soul alone doth see.  
Thou 
* So are the Prophets called Seers, 1 Sam. 9.9.  seest &  

† And Guides, Ps. 78.72. Acts 8.31.— 35.  guidest too, that others may  
By thy Seraphic Poem find the way  
To that celestial throne, yea charmest their cars  
By this the truest harmony of the spheres.   

Thus Art doth Piety sweetly greet,  
The Muses and the Graces meet. 
Ovid. Faster. l. 1    

Felice's animae, quibus haec cognoscere primis,  
Inque domus super as scandere cura fuit.  
Credibile est illos pariter vitiisque 
* Vulg. jocisque Sic autem corrigenti Doctissimo D. Grajo nostro lubentiffime assurgo.  locisque  
Altus humanis exseruisse caput.   
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Joh. Stileman. M.A. Pastor Ecclesiae Tunbrigignsis in Agro Cantiano.   

To his dear Friend, Mr. Francis Taylor, upon his Grapes from Canaan, etc. being nocturnal Meditations on his Restless Bed.  

Sighed is a blessing, God hath made you blind,  
Yet far more blest, in your enlightened mind.   

Our purblind eyes, which dazzle at the glory  
Of worldly Objects, frail and transitory,  
Allure our minds, to fix their Meditation  
On earthly Vanities, fond Contemplation!   

Your Eagle light, piercing beyond the sky,  
Beholds the glory of Eternity,  
Heightening your soul, it's purer thoughts to place  
On the rich substance of immortal Grace.   

Sleep is a blessing, which you cannot find,  
Yet far more blessed in your waking mind.   

Our Nights in sleeping spent, we seem to lie  
Among the ●●ad, beneath the Canopy;  
No thought of God, no Prayers, nor no Praise,  
Can sense-bound sleepers up to Heaven raise.   

Your waking mind, among the Living dwells  
Within the veil, where blessedness excels,  
Where Saints celestial, with Angels sing,  
Eternal Praise, to the Eternal King.   

We see those Vines, which in this Desert grow;  
You spy that Vine, where Milk and Honey flow;  
We Clusters pluck by Day, but sour and tart;  
You gather Grapes by Night most sweet, which Art  
Had we obtained, though neither sight; nor rest,  
Yet tasting of such Grapes, we should be blest.   
Clement Barling.   

To his dark Friend upon his Divine Poem of the Glory of Heaven.  

WHen God first willed the starlight of thine eyes  
To set, He then commanded to arise  
The Sunshine of his Glory in thy soul;  
And us to see how He, without control,  
Can bring Light out of Darkness, and can make  
Thy loss thy gain, thy misery our mistake.  
we'll therefore praise him for that sight which He  
Hath given thee in exchange, and whereby we  
Do learn, the less on earth we fix our eye,  
The firmer may our hearts be fixed on high.  
 sometime thought thee blind, but now I see  
'Twas my own thoughts were darkened; as for thee,  
Thou only hadst thy sight a while sequestered,  
To keep thy higher thoughts from being pest'red  
With Earth's diversions; nay, who will not say,  
That reads with care what thou dost here display,  
But that this thy Divine Apocalyps  
Doth speak thine eyesight only in th' eclipse  
By th' interposing beams of that great light  
Above, whose glory dazzles nature's sight,  
And bids her wink, that grace a glimpse may get  
Of what no eye hath seen, nor ear as yet  
Hath heard, nor is conceived in any heart,  
Except (as now to thee) revealed in part.  
Henceforth therefore I shall not dare to think  
Thee dark, but only that God bade thee wink  
A while, till he had taught this froward age  
To know, not only from what every page  
Of these thy spiritual Optics tells to all,  
But likewise from thy Preaching, and thy Call,  
That (maugre all such spirits as are freer  
To wrest, than speak the truth) thou art a Seer.   

Go on then with thy Muse, let her keep sight  
Of what she hath spied, and follow by the light  
Of Grace, that spirit which taught thy soul this story  
Until thy Grace is swallowed up of Glory.    

TO Mr. FRAN. TAYLOR, ON HIS Grapes from Canaan.  
Taylor,  

THou art no Water Poet, not by wine  
Art thou inspired, thy genius is Divine,  
And stoops not to that Helicon, thy Quill  
Soars higher than the proud Parnassus' hill;  
Thou on the Holy Mount above haste been  
In Contemplation, and hid things hast seen:  
Like that stoned Martyr Steven, we may look,  
And behold Heaven opened, in thy Book.  
Thy blindness shames, and much outdoes our sight;  
Our day is dark, and cloudy to thy night:  
Thy piercing eyes of Faith, and knowledge pry  
Into those things, that in the veil do lie.  
And the third heavens secrets look upon  
Which are the blessed Saints rich portion.  
Thus that choice vessel Paul, his sight being gone,  
Did see more clearly, and had's vision.  
I might thee style the Homer of this age,  
Did not thy richer, and sublimer page  
Forbidden, which in its pure and sacred strain  
All Boerry (but Fiction) doth contain;  
Thou only measured truths dost tell in that  
Celestial Globe of thine, and heavenly Map.  
Let profane Poets lose and wanton Muse  
Be damned to the Grocer's servile use;  
Thine is to us more useful than a star  
In Navigation to the Mariner:  
It steels the brow 'gainst threats, in storms it cheers,  
In dangers comforts, animates in fears,  
And makes us with a virtuous scorn disdain  
To yield in Trials, and count losses gain:  
It doth relieve, although it doth rehearse  
(High mysteries) our dulness with its verse.  
Thus Artists say, an Emerald standing by  
In cutting Jewels, helps the weaker eye.   
Tho. Woodrooffe, M. A.   

TO His Honoured Friend, Mr. Francis Taylor. ON HIS Heavenly Poem.  
Dear Friend,  

WEre't not a Solaetisme in Love, I'd say  
Welcome from heaven (for sure  been that way)  
But if not so, it must from Patmos be,  
Where you have seen Landskip'd-Eternitie.  
Were Metempsychosis in fashion now,  
'Tis probable Saint John must live in you:  
Your Book's a Fountain, but the Seals are gone,  
And all you writ is Revelation:  
Which when I read, my soul is ravished, and  
(Like to Religion) doth on tiptoe stand,  
Threatening departure in sweet ecstasy,  
In which I neither truly live, nor die;  
And what to Plato's Scholar did betid,  
(Were't not a crime) I could turn Suicide.  
But tell me first, when you did sit above,  
In that high azure tent, where stars do move,  
Did not our world look like some dirty spot?  
Pray say, Can you see it, or could you not?  
How vainly then do most by acres guests  
At worth, and miscall Riches Happiness!  
Nay more, when once your Faith was got within  
Those Empyraean Curtains, where no sin  
But sinners do find place: pray tell me then  
(Your mem'ry's good I know) what were the men  
That sang those holy Notes? Did you not see  
Some Lawn-sleeved Saints, and some Presbytery?  
Did not sometimes an Independent air,  
Sometimes a Baptist-Quaker mingle there?  
No doubt there did: how fond then do we  
Fall out i'th' way, who must i'th' End agree!  
We all embrace one fundamental Light,  
Our hands do join, but yet our nails do fight.  
Come welcome hour, in which my sun shall set,  
And Church-yard grass shall be my Coronet:  
For who will throw away one Prayer for Life,  
When Heaven so calm, and Earth so full of strife?  
When Christendom her fields are now bespread  
All o'er with killing-troops and with the dead:  
Like Cannibals our weekly- Gazettes feed,  
On purple Broth which dying Christians bleed:  
As if Baptismal water were too faint,  
And cool an Element to make a saint;  
Our boisterous age winds up the Nation high  
And needs must be baptised with blood and fire.  
For many years' Intelligences came  
Proclaiming wildfire from the German flame,  
Where kindred-bloud was mingled with the Rhyne,  
To wash away th' excesses of their wine.  
And now the sturdy Swede with skilful steel  
Doth let all Poland blood, to make it feel  
This two-edged truth; when God thinks fit to beat,  
Luther shall strike as hard as Mahomet.  
But stay; these lines do run too black: my Prayer  
Shall therefore be for England's :  
And while the Maids plant Laurels on your Brow,  
I'll sing an Eulogy to Faith, and You.  
Triumphant Faith! How stoutly dost thou scorn  
The testimony which from sense is born!  
Enoch by Faith Death's Trophies did outbrave,  
And where we fall, he did o're-leap his grave,  
Still winding up the weights of flesh so high,  
His body stepped into Eternity.  
Nought could foretell but Faith's Astrology,  
The world debauched must of a Dropsy die;  
But lest the storm should blow the Globe away,  
Good Noah casts Faith's anchor out to stay  
The tottering Clod, and in his pinnace sleeps  
Where all the seminals of life he keeps.  
By this when Sarah in her wrinckls lay,  
And all her white and red did fade away,  
When snow was all the locks she wore, than she  
Dandled by Faith her Isaac on her knee.  
Faith's Bulrush 'twas kept Moses like a swan  
On Nilus' lap, and when he was grown man  
He foiled the guilded-dangers of a court,  
And made dry paths where whales were wont to sport.  
And lest some Atheist, should in Sarcasmes say  
Faith then was young, but now she's weak & grey:  
Behold a Christian Homer without eyes  
By Faith out-sees two Universities.   
William Jacob, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.   

TO His Honoured Friend, Mr. Francis Taylor, Upon His Grapes from Canaan; OR, The Believers present taste of future glory.  

AWake my Muse, take up thy Lyre,  
And make one of this sacred choir;  
Who would not gladly show his art  
Where every creature adds its part?   

Mark how the Birds do sweetly frame  
Their Voice to blaze their Maker's fame!  
Hark how they chirp and flock together,  
Provoking to this work each other!   

Who, though with much alacrity  
They all proclaim a Deity,  
None to so high a Note can rise  
As this rare Bird of Paradise.   

Thou art the Orpheus of our age  
Whose quill, when storms within do rage,  
With such sweet noise doth fill our ear  
As can't be told by those that hear.   

Thy lines, thy words, and every letter  
Are so well suited to thy matter,  
That from King David I'll defend it,  
Thou mayst be lineally descended.   

He of the Earthly City wrote,  
To praise the Heavenly is thy Plot;  
Whose glory doth so shine in thee  
Though blind thou canst not choose but see.   

When once the Soul hath fixed its eye  
Upon the Glory of things on high,  
And seen its Christ within the veil,  
What matter though the Body's fail.   

Haste then my Soul! With this good guide  
Haste to that Glory here descried;  
Thou needest not fear to go astray,  
When this great Seer leads the way.   

Where Angels and where Seraphim,  
Where blessed Saints and Cherubin,  
Praises continually do sing  
To God, our God, and heavenly King.   
Frederick Primrose.   

〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  

〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉:  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.    

Amico suo ingeniosissimo celeberrimi hujus Poematis Authori merito hoc encomiasticon commendat N. ●. Philo-Porta.  

REgia marmoreis plusquam fabricata columnis  
Celsa Dei est, sese extendens per inane locorum;  
Lucidior gemmis; Chrystallo purior omni  
Conspicuo, longe fulvo rutilantior auro:  
Firmior & domibus multo fluitantibus orbis;  
Nomina, cum titulis, nec non adjuncta sacratis,  
Hujus coelestis Paradisi, consuis ipse haec  
Omnia Taylere insignis. Beatifica dona,  
Fulgoris radiis complentia corpora pura,  
Utque sigillatim memores! Ut agilia narres!  
Non moritura unquam! Forma nitidissima! Nec non  
(Attributa quidem haec!) incompatibilia! Deinde  
Lux, & felicitas animarum clara sacrarum;  
Cognitio scilicet gemmans, dominumque amor erga  
Sese & perfectus, collucent versibus aptis.  
Haectua depinxit graphice pia, docta Camaena;  
(Dulcis Amice) stylum poliit tua lima Britannum,  
Carmine suavisono; scandant super aethera laudes.  
Non torrem ostendam soli; mea Musa silescet  
More Timanthaeo obvolvens haec ardua nube.    

To my Loving Friend, Mr. Fran. Taylor, upon his excellent Poem, entitled, Grapes from Canaan, etc.  

Deprived of sight can he be said to be  
Who sees the light? How true is this of thee!  
Thy soul is full of eyes, whose sight refined  
See far, although thou bodily art blind.  
Let this to none a Paradox appear  
That thou a blindman art, and yet a Seer.  
Paul was wrapped up into the heavens third story:  
So thou, which made thee limne so well its glory.  
Thy skill hath made Objects remote t' appear  
Close by; and things a distance off seem near.  
Sin is alas! an interposing screen,  
A separating wall, which stands between  
Glory and us; but by thine heavenly art  
Glory's revealed unto us in part.  
Thine understandings search hath brought to light  
Secrets abstruse; O blindness blest for sight!  
The Spaniards Dove Columbus, and our Drake,  
(Not Quaking in the least) did undertake  
A long, and dangerous voyage; sailing over  
Remotest Seas, new Lands to discover.  
Home they return, their richer vessels hold  
A fraught of nought, but glorious luggage Gold.  
Had they both Indies, and could Numid-like  
Measure their unsummed treasure by a strike;  
Time would consume it; what a thief is Chink?  
The greatest bags will in the using shrink.  
Alas! alas! the Glory they did win  
Was earthly, vain; their Bullion falling in  
A deep consumption, pined away by leisure;  
See there the end of their laborious pleasure!  
But as for thee (my truly Honoured Friend)  
Thou Riggest thy Vessel for an other end.  
Thy braver spirit doth with scorn disdain  
The roaming here, upon the foaming Main.  
Grace is the Ship, thy soul doth go aboard;  
Thy Faith's the Sail, thy Steersman is God's Word;  
His Spirit's the Wind, that drives thee by degrees  
O'er the calm back of th' Erythraean seas,  
I mean Christ's blood: thou tak'st a view of heaven,  
Returnest richly fraught with Jewels, given  
By God himself; by doing good thou thriv'st,  
Thy lands enriched; this is the trade thou driv'st.  
Like Noah's Dove, thou canst not, dost not cease,  
Until thou bringst an Olive-branch of Peace.  
Wouldst thou view heaven on earth (kind Reader) then  
Let thine eye trace the footsteps of his pen  
Steered by an others hand; be pleased to look  
On the Reflections of this precious Book:  
And here it is, heavens glorious Objects pass  
Unto Faith's eye, through this prospective glass.  
Dost thou desire with beauties most sublime  
T'enrich thy soul, engarrisoned with slime?  
Shake off Earth's dangling fetters which keep down  
Thy labouring soul from rising to its Crown.  
The transient pleasures of this Molehill Earth,  
Afford at best but melancholy mirth:  
But joys in heaven, which are only sure  
And stable, shall eternally endure  
In spite of time; there the blessed Saints advance  
Their heightened notes above the reach of chance.  
Be practically good; bid sin good-b'wy,  
And Glory's thine, I'll warrant you; I, I,  
'Tis thine, 'tis thine; the heavens have decreed  
It thine, it thine. Beatitude indeed!  
Wouldst thou be made one of the royal stem,  
And Den'son of the New-Jerusalem?  
Be sure thou follow this directive way,  
And then thou wilt not, nay, thou canst not stray.  
Heaven shield us all from the world's Philtrecharms,  
And hold us fast in his encircling arms;  
O may we ever in that Glory rest,  
Which our rare Author sweetly hath expressed!  
Thrice happy be that soul, who (thirsting) gapes  
To drink this liquor, pressed from Canaan's Grapes.   
Canterbury, July 1. 1657. Nicholas Billingsley.    

The Table.  

A Believers present taste of future glory Page 1  
Heavens glory not to be fully dsplaid in this life Page 3  
Heavens Glory set out by 6 Properties Page 8 

1 Its Altitude ibid.  
2 Its Magnificence Page 10  
3 Its Purity Page 12  
4 Its Amplitude Page 14  
5 Its Brightness ibid.  
6 Its Permanency Page 16    
Heavens glory further set out by sundry Scripture-names, titles & epithets, as Page 18 

1 A Kingdom Page 19  
2 A Heavenly Kingdom Page 20  
3 The Kingdom of God ibid.  
4 An Inheritance Page 21  
5 An incorruptible Inheritance ibid.  
6 An exceeding & eternal weight of glory Page 22    
The Saints shall be with Christ in heaven Page 24  
They shall be all King's Page 29  
They shall be all filled with joy Page 31  
They shall have perfect Rest Page 34  
They shall have full Security Page 36  
There shall be a vindication of their names Page 39  
Their Graces shall be perfected Page 42  
The Beauty and Blessedness of Glorified Bodres Page 44 

1 They are Immortal Page 46  
2 Impassable Page 48  
3 Agile Page 49  
4 Amtable Page 51    
The Beauty and Blessedness of Glorified Souls Page 52 

1 Their Knowledge perfected Page 53  
2 Their Love perfected Page 59    
Five Practical Conclusions Page 64  
Four Marks of our Interest in Heaven Page 75  
A General Conclusion Page 82  
Faiths Triumph Page 86    

ERRATA.  
In page 3. line 5. for the comprehensible, r. th' incomprehensible: p. 17. l. 9 for man r. men: p. 31. l. 5. for joined r. joined. p. 40. l. 27. for styled r. styled. p. 47. l. 2. for our r. over. p. 49. l. 21. for at r. it. p. 51. l. 15. r. bodies. p. 62. l. 9 r. keep. p. 62. l. 16. r. wound. p, 71. l. 13. r. makes.   

GRAPES FROM CANAAN. OR, The Believers present taste OF Future Glory.  

THe lives of Saints are Tragae-comaedies;  
Their future joy, their present grief outvies:  
Their death is sweet, although their life be sour,  
Tears in the bud, but Glory in the flower.  
The blessed Angels at the port of bliss,  
Or portal of the Heavenly edifice,  
As Masters of the Ceremonies stand,  
To welcome Saints into the Holy Land:  
From whence into their Father's Court straightway  
These Ministering Spirits their new-Guests convey.  
The glory that the Blessed there behold  
All language is too narrow to unfold:  
The glittering stars, which in that Orb do shine,  
No Logic can sufficiently define.  
Had I as many tongues as hairs, yet I  
Can never set out the resplendency  
Of that celestial Paradise above,  
For saints ordained by the God of Love;  
The shadow of it in the picture I  
Can only give, and that imperfectly.   

Heaven's Glory not to be fully displayed in this life.  

NO eye hath seen, ear heard, or heart of man  
At any time conceived hath, or can  
The comprehensible sublimity  
And glorious mysteries of that most high  
And heavenly Wisdom, and unparallelled  
Sweetness, which in the Gospel is reveaied:  
How altogether then unutterable  
Is the perfection, how inexplicable  
The full, the real, and the actual  
Fruition of those Evangelical  
Mysterious Revelations, which are even  
Accomplished to the height in th' highest Heaven.   

The eye of man hath seen Earth's rarest sights,  
Its bravest Ornaments, and chief delights;  
Mountains of Crystal, and rich Mines of Gold,  
With Rocks of Diamonds, wondrous to behold,  
Lands of Spices, and the Pearly coast,  
(Of which some Travellers so much do boast)  
The stately and sublime Pyramids,  
Diana's Temple, and such like as these,  
Mausolus' tomb in all its pomp and pride,  
With all the wonders of the world beside.   

The Ear hath with the sweetest melody  
Oft charmed been, even with such harmony,  
As once transported the amazed ear  
Of Alexander with a pang (as it were)  
Of pleasing rage, and sweerly did enhance  
His spirit with a most delightful dance.   

The Heart of man imagine and surmise  
Rare pieces can, and strange felicities;  
The pebbles on the ground it in conceit  
Into rich Pearls can transubstantiate;  
Dust into silver, into liquid Oar  
The Land encircling Ocean, nay more  
With greater beauty it and sweetness can  
The bosom of Dame Nature garnish, than  
The eye e'er saw, each star into a sun  
It can convert, and when it so hath done,  
Can make those suns far bigger and more bright,  
Than that which gilds the heaven with its light.   

And yet the height of Evangelical  
Wisdom outshines, and far surpasseth all  
That eye, ear, or the heart of men could ever  
See, hear, or know, though heightened with endeavour:  
And this so rare, and admirable light  
On Earth, discovering unto our sight  
The treasures of Celestial and Divine  
Wisdom in Christ, is to the richest Mine  
Of Gold, but as a grain; yea, lesser than  
A drop of water to the Ocean.  
When with these sempiternal joys above  
It is compared which by the God of Love  
For those ordained are, that have stricken sail,  
And safely landed are within the vail.  
Oh then how far! How far bayond all measure  
Doth the sublimity of heaven's pleasure  
Transcend the most enlarged capacity  
Of men? For humane knowledge 'tis too high.   

It is a Fruit of our unhappy Fall  
With Adam, and the sad Estate of all  
That so journey in this vale of misery  
To know heavens glory but imperfectly:  
From which our clearer and completer knowledge,  
When we be admitted into Zion College  
Shall differ, as a little Infants doth  
From his who is arrived at perfect growth.  
As knowledge by a glass from apprehension  
Of real objects, till the great convention,  
That fullness we of light can't pierce, nor pry  
Into the bottomless profundity  
Of endless joys, nor in that brightness dwell,  
Which is to mortals unapproachable:  
This is reserved to the day of Doom,  
When Jesus Christ the Spouses lovely Groom  
Shall her conduct into his Father's tent,  
And without spot, her there to him present.   

Our Intellects upon necessity  
Irradiated supernaturally,  
Must be with extraordinary light,  
Ere they can have a clear and perfect sight  
Of future bliss, or fully comprehend  
The brightness of those joys, which know no end.  
It is as easy for a mortal man,  
the Globe of Earth to compass with a span,  
Or in a Nutshell the Ocean to contain,  
As to describe exactly every vein  
Of Heavens Golden Mine—  
Philosophers of old could say that even  
As Owls eyes are to th' shining Lamp of Heaven;  
So are the sharpest and most piercing eyes  
Of pregnant wits to Nature's mysteries:  
Oh then! How strangely would they dazzled be,  
And even struck stark blind, should they but see  
The sparkling lustre, and excessive height  
Of Heaven's secrets, and immortal light?   

But though the whole we cannot fully know,  
Yet part we may consider here below;  
Although of that o'erflowing Fountain we  
Can't have a full draught, yet a taste may be  
Attained on Earth, though the whole Harvest can't  
Be here enjoyed by th' most sublimed Saint;  
Yet of the first-Fruits we a brief survey  
May take; the Scriptures to this end display  
And shadow out a glimpse, by things that are  
Esteemed here most excellent and rare.    

HEAVEN'S GLORY Set out by its PROPERTIES.  

THe Glory of the Saints eternal rest,  
May by its Properties be well expressed.   

Heaven's Altitude.  

THat blessed place which Saints by Faith descry,  
Is set out by a mountain great and high:  
It hath its situation far above  
The Sun and stars, which in their Orbs do move,  
Above those glorious Luminaries, which  
With beams of light this lower-world enrich:  
In power and pride are worldlings ofttimes high,  
And though they could their Nests build in the sky,  
So firmly, that they thought none could remove them,  
Yet shall the saints be shortly far above them:  
Their Eagle on his sacred wings shall bear  
Them far above the Element of fear.  
Their proper house and place of rest is even  
Where Christ is in the Empyrean Heaven;  
A City whose aspiring walls defy  
The scaling Ladders of the Enemy.  
A Fort erected far above the skies,  
That's too too strong for humane batteries;  
A Castle reared on a towering Rock,  
No silver Key can ever it unlock:  
It fears no undermine, and the shot  
Of malice, it is far above (I worship)  
The arrows which are up against it sent,  
Do with redoubled force rebound, and rend  
The hairy scalps of those who let them fly  
From off the string so inconsid'rately.    

Heaven's Magnificence.  

IF all the Architects on Earth should strive,  
And lay their heads together to contrive  
A stately Palace, and had all the gems,  
And precious stones in Princes Diadems;  
Yea, all the Diamonds in the world to set  
Into it, and to beautify it, yet  
It would be doubtless in comparison,  
To Heaven but a darksome dungeon.  
The Porch of that celestial Habitation  
Doth fill the minds of men with admiration.  
Our dazelled eyes unable are to pry  
Into the beauty of th' enamelled sky.  
All precious stones when laid together, are  
Not so refulgent as one single star.  
What glory in the Presence Chamber than  
Shall Saints amaze, when they are from the den,  
And cave of Earth advanced above the sky,  
To reign in Heaven to eternity!  
Fulgentius eyeing well the Senate House  
Of Rome, which was exceeding glorious,  
Did both its bulk and bravery contemn,  
As nothing to the New Jerusalem.  
That City's pavement is of Gold most pure,  
What are the Hang then and Furniture?  
How Orient are those Jewels which are set  
Into the frame of that rare Cabinet?  
Those rarities on Earth which oft invite  
Our eyes, and ravish them with much delight,  
Appear but vile and fordid in their eyes,  
Who with a sight of heaven's embroideries  
Made happy are: a glorious place no doubt  
It is, where God doth all his cost lay out:  
It needs must be a stately Fabric, where  
Wisdom contrives, and Bounty doth not spare.  
In heaven (as we read in sacred story)  
There is a kingdom, crowns, thrones, weight of glory,  
Now wonder 'tis to me the violent  
Take heaven by force, 'tis so magnificent.  
I marvel more that many Christians are  
No more contentious in this Holy War.    

Heaven's Purity.  

IN Purity this blessed soil doth pass  
Refined Gold, and most transparent Glass.  
It's Emblem'd by the saphire stone, which hath  
A precious virtue in't (as Pliny saith)  
Purity to preserve, none thither come  
Stained with the births of sins too pregnant womb.  
Sometimes again 'tis represented by  
The sparkling Em'rald whose rare quality  
Is poison to expel, heaven is so pure  
That sin and sinners it will not endure.  
That air is from malignant vapours freed,  
No Viper of corruption there doth breed.  
The Serpent which to sin did man entice,  
Was long since cast out of that Paradise.  
There no assaults of sinful on-sets are,  
When once a spotless soul, a virgin star  
Hath in that Orb celestial its station,  
It need not fear the rape of a temptation,  
Upon that sacred stage sin acts no part,  
The Eyes are there no Panders to the Heart.  
No sinful tinctures there of inquination  
Be speckle shall the chosen generation.  
No Fever there of Lust is to be found,  
All Vice is banished from that holy ground.  
Indeed on Earth of sin few stand in awe,  
Men set up Wickedness oft by a Law.  
And wicked men devour (O cruel Elves!)  
Their neighbours, far more righteous than themselves.  
Here Just ones are maligned, 'cause they be just  
And won't be Bandogs to some great ones lust.  
More Justice there in the infernal Den  
Is to be found, than 'mong the sons of men.  
Hell doth oppress none that are innocent,  
But here 'gainst righteousness the world is bend.  
Holiness is the White, at which the Divol  
His fiery Darts doth principally level.  
But Heaven is a place of Equity,  
No wronged persons there for Justice cry;  
There are (as sacred Scriptures do express)  
The Sun, the Robe, the Crown of Righteousness.    

Heaven's Amplitude.  

SPacious enough that Heavenly structure is,  
To entertain the souls ordained to bliss.  
It is a Garner wide enough to hold,  
Those blessed Grains whose number can't be told.  
How ample is the New Jerusalem?  
Where every Saints decked with a Diadem.  
Though myriads of Saints inhabit there,  
Yet every Saint doth move in his own sphere.  
'Tis not a place so narrow or so straight,  
But sublime spirits may there expatiate.    

Heaven's Brightness.  

THat Royal Palace which excels in height,  
Is called an inheritance in light;  
The splendour of it doth the Sun's out vie,  
It far surpasses its resplendency.  
Were every star a sun, without all doubt,  
Heaven's lustre they could never shadow out.  
Light is a glorious creature, what were all  
The world, if Darkness should the same enthral?  
Alas! What beauty is there in the sun,  
When it is veiled, and hath a muffler on?  
Light actuates the colours, and doth show,  
Each Herb and Flower in its most verdant hue.  
'Tis Nature's smile, the Universes gloss,  
Who wants the light, doth need no greater cross,  
Light beautifies the creatures with its rays,  
It is on bodies a bright paraphrase.  
Whether i'th' modesty of a morning blush  
Itself it doth discover, or doth rush  
In with more spriteful beams, whither in a star  
It twinkles, or doth in a Comet glare;  
Wither in a Gem it frisketh in the night,  
Or in a Glow-worm plays the hypocrite.  
Whither in a Lamp it doth epitomise  
Itself, or in a spark itself comprise.  
How e'er 'tis pleased itself to manifest,  
Or in what form soever it is dressed,  
Such a commanding lustre in its face  
It always carries, as itself doth grace:  
Yet O how dark doth Light itself appear,  
When to the fountain it of Light draws near?  
The place of rest that in the world to come,  
Remains for saints, is a diaphanum.  
It is not like the Element o'er head  
That's here and there with stars enammelled,  
No, 'tis a Body wonderfully bright,  
Being all o'er embroidered with light.  
The glory of the Sun is needless there,  
Christ is the Sun that shineth in that sphere.  
A Sun that no Eclipse can over-shrowd,  
A Sun that can't be masked with a cloud.  
A Sun which rising on the saints that reign,  
With God in glory, never sets again:  
Whenas the sacred scriptures would express,  
The glorious majesty, and blessedness  
Of God himself, unto the very height,  
They make it consist in this, He dwells in light.    

Heaven's Permanency.  

HEaven is a place subject to no decay,  
An Heritage that fadeth not away;  
No wonder saints are with it so much taken,  
It is a Kingdom that cannot be shaken.  
The great and mighty Monarchies on earth,  
Have had their dying times as well as birth;  
Their ruins were as certain as their rise,  
But as for the Celestial paradise,  
Venices' 
* Nec fluctu, nec flatu movetur  Motto. you may on it writ,  
No winds nor waves can stir't with all their might.  
The tabernacle, which was transient,  
Did transitory comforts represent.  
But Heaven's joy and happiness (no doubt)  
Were by the fixed temple shadowed out:  
The saints shall bathe themselves in bliss for ever,  
Nothing shall them and their Redeemer sever.  
Their Lease of Heaven perpetual shall be,  
Stamped with the broad seal of Eternity.  
Eternity's a Day that hath no Night;  
A Spring that hath no Autumn, joy at height:  
O happy man, who being freed from thrall,  
Enjoy the vision beatifical!     

HEAVEN'S GLORY FURTHER SHADOWED OUT BY ITS NAMES, TITLES, AND EPITHETS.  

THe Titles, Names, and Epithets, that are  
Ascribed to Heavenly joys, do yet declare,  
And further to our relish represent,  
Their sweetness, even to astonishment.   

A Kingdom.  

HEaven is a Kingdom, and a Kingly throne  
Is held the top, crown, and perfection  
Of sublunary bliss, the highest aim  
Of man's ambition, that which doth inflame  
His aspiration most, a confluence  
It is of Riches and magnificence,  
Of glory, pomp, and royal majesty,  
Of pleasure and delightful bravery;  
Or what the heart of man can more desire,  
To make his outward happiness entire:  
What stirs and stratagems, what pulling down,  
Of one another, to climb to a crown?  
What Machavillian depths, what strange adventures?  
What stretching of men's brains upon the tenters?  
What cunning Plots, what rolling of each stone,  
To be installed in the regal throne?  
Witness our York and Lancaster, nay all  
Earth's habitable parts both great and small,  
Which have from time to time proved (as we find  
In story) bloody Cockpits in this kind.    

An heavenly Kingdom.  

AN Heavenly Kingdom 'tis to intimate,  
That it in excellency, pomp, and state,  
As far transcends all earthly Kingdoms, as  
The Empyrean Heaven doth surpass  
The Earth with all its bravery and store  
Of choice delights, and infinitely more.    

The Kingdom of God.  

GOds Kingdom, 'tis a Kingdom of his own  
Framing and beautifying; 'tis a throne  
Erected by his power, who like himself  
Doth all things make, not deeked with worldly pelt,  
But with ineffable transcendencies  
Embellished, and such rare felicities,  
As best beseem the Maker of all things,  
The glorious residence of the King of Kings.    

An Inheritance.  

IT is no tenement at will, to be  
Possessed or left at th'landlord's liberty:  
But an Inheritance to us conveyed,  
And sealed by th' highest price that e'er was paid.  
Which will as orient and as precious be,  
After as many thousand years as we  
Can possibly conceive, as 'twas the first  
Day that it poured out was, and disbursed.    

An incorruptible inheritance.  

THe Ponderous weight of that felicity,  
And blessedness which is possessed by  
The saints, who there the royal sceptre sway,  
Shall ne'er be subject to the least decay.  
Much less shall their illustrious condition  
Obnoxious be to any abolition.  
But their unspeakable beatitude  
All diminution wholly ●hall exclude:  
And always be as fresh and full as at  
The first it was, their glorified estate  
Shall ne'er decline, but without spot or slain  
Through all eternity entire remain.    

An Exceeding, and Eternal weight of Glory.  

HEaven an exceeding and eternal weight  
Of Glory styled is, its pomp and state,  
Crowns, kingdoms, jewels, and most orient  
Pearls can to us but weakly represent,  
And darkly shadow out; it is (saith one)  
A phrase superlative, and such as none  
Of all the Heathen in their Or atory  
Can ever reach unto, because heaven's glory  
Is too transcendent, too sublime and high,  
 to be kened by Nature's purblind eye.     

THE SAINTS SHALL BE WITH CHRIST IN HEAVEN.  

THe Doctor of the Gentiles grand desire  
To be dissolved was, he did aspire  
To the encircling arms of Christ, which he  
Deemed the centre of felicity;  
A Privilege of the first magnitude,  
A blessing that all blessings did include.  
Surely we can no losers be by being  
With Christ who is almighty and allseeing,  
While we be engarrisoned in slime, too much  
Of the wild olive still remains in such  
As are indeed converted, but when death  
Dams up the passage of our fleeting breath,  
As young and tender Scions, then shall we  
Into a better stock engrafted be:  
We then shall be with Christ, whose company  
Our hearts will ravish to eternity.  
A perfect state more glorious is by far  
Than an imperfect; here our graces are  
Our richest jewels, but their lustre they  
Don't in this life unto the full display:  
They're like the Moon, which when it shines most bright,  
Hath a dark spot most obvious to our sight;  
Our precious Faith (a jewel in God's eye)  
O●● blended is with incredulity,  
And our humility with so much pride  
Is stained, that it can hardly be descried;  
Our grace's flame (alas) is not so pure,  
But that some smoke doth often it obscure;  
Our Virtues here are in their infancy,  
And can't arrive at full maturity,  
Till on the top of jacob's Ladder we  
Are mounted, and do Christ in heaven see:  
To be with Christ is held in sacred story  
To be the highest link i'th' chain of glory.  
What is't the pious soul esteems most meet  
For him to covet? is it not the sweet  
Presence of Christ? For nought on earth he cares  
But what the image of his Saviour bears.  
He loves religious duties, but whence is't?  
Because they manuductions are to Christ:  
He prays and praiseth prayers excellence,  
'Cause souls with Christ have private conference:  
He hears the Word, and strives it to obey,  
Because to Christ it ch●lketh out the way.  
Christ on the spirits wings to us doth fly,  
We plumeed with Faith to him again do high.  
If in an Ordinance Christ be not, instead  
Of meat we on an empty dish do feed.  
Christ's all a Christian can desire, and more.  
The several graces which i'th' saints of yore  
A pleasing lustre yielded though but dim,  
Are all at once conspicuous in him.  
Who so by Fuith most sublimated is,  
He neither hath a head-piece to devise,  
Nor heart to cover all that's to be found  
In Christ, but when we on the holy ground  
Of heaven tread, the great Jehovah will  
Enlarge our narrow Vessels, and them fill  
Up to the very brim, as once with Wine  
Christ did the water-pots by's power Divine.  
The sight of Christ unto a saint, that is  
Translated and enammelled with bliss,  
A more delightful object will appear  
Than e'er his eyes beheld: When he was here  
On earth, the light of his Divinity  
In the darklanthorn did obscured lie  
Of his humanity, yet even then  
The saints in him did so much beauty ken,  
Through Faith's prospective-glass, as did delight  
Their hearts, and ravish their amazed sight.  
But Oh! what glittering beams of matchless worth,  
And peerless excellence shall sparkle forth  
From Christ, when saints shall see him as he is,  
Shining in glory in the sphere of bliss.  
O what a blessed sight  be to see,  
Christ clad i'th' Robes of our humanity!  
And in that humane nature placed higher  
In dignity, than the melodious Choir  
Of glorious Angels, who to heaven's King,  
Do everlasting hallelujahs sing.  
Cherubs and Seraphims there are; But do  
The saints believe that these make heaven? No;  
I'th' ring of glory, Christ's the rarest Gem;  
The richest Pearl i'th' heavenly Diadem:  
Therefore, St. Paul desired not to be  
In heaven, but with Christ, whose company  
The heaven is of heavens—  
Our being with our blessed Saviour, shall  
Not only local be, but conjugal;  
Our eyes shall so behold him, as that we  
Shall be one with him to eternity:  
What nearer is than Union? or what's sweeter?  
It is the spring of joy, and makes the creature  
Happy beyond conceit: by virtue we  
Of that blessed Union, shall partakers be  
Of those transcendent beauties, wherewithal  
Christ's humane nature is, and ever shall  
Bespangled be; Christ with the glory which  
His Father gave him, will his saints enrich:  
They with his beams shall shine, he doth array  
Them with his graces, whilst they're in the way;  
But when they to their journey's end are come,  
He, them with Robes of Glory welcomes home.  
How full of lustre, will the saints appear,  
When they their Saviors richest jewels wear!  
Not only one, they with their husband shall  
Then be, but eke resemble him withal:  
In other marriages Brides only do  
Change their estate, but here complexion too:  
Not that in glory, Christ conferreth aught  
Of his own Essence, as Socinus taught.  
Saints so much glory as comprised may be  
Within the verge of their humanity  
Shall have; but though his image he impart,  
Yet not his Essence. When the Sun doth dart  
Its beams, and on a glass shines from its sphere,  
Some print, it of its beauty leaveth there;  
And 'twixt the Sunbeam and the glass, it is  
No easy matter to diseern; but this  
Most certain is, the glass is not the ray,  
The Sun its likeness only doth convey.   

In Heaven, the Saints shall be all KINGS.  

THere too too many are, who do aspire  
After Terrestrial Sceptres, whose desire  
Is to be mounted on the throne, as though  
The place where saints must reign, were here below.  
We surely then, God's Church on Earth must grant  
To be triumphant, and not militant.  
But see the honour of the saints; O they  
Shall all be Kings at their ascension day:  
We, of their royal robe, and throne of Glory,  
Read in the Book of Books the sacred story.  
The saints, that in this world a crown do wear  
Of thorns, shall have a crown of glory there:  
Yea, such a crown as hath no cares at all  
Woven into't; the crown of Kings oft gall  
Their royal heads, they by experience find  
Them both with care and sorrow to be lined.  
Cyrus, the Persian King, was wont to say,  
Did men but know the cares, which he each day  
Under a crown, imperial, did sustain;  
To take it up no doubt they would disdain.  
But lo the crowns of saints, in glory shall  
No mixture know, or misery at all:  
They neither are with care of keeping blended,  
Or fear of losing, but yield all content.  
O let us then with patience undergo  
Our momentary troubles here below:  
Let not our light afflictions press us down,  
Who bear the cross, shall also were the crown.    

In Heaven the Saints shall be filled with JOY.  

THe joy of Saints is by their Union bred  
With Christ; being fully joined to their Head,  
Their joys shall then be perfect, and for ay  
God from their eyes shall wipe all tears away  
With that soft sponge, which Christ their trusty friend  
Provided hath before hand for that end.  
The spouse on Earth in sable doth appear,  
Because she absent is from her most dear  
And loving husband; but in heaven she  
Of all her mourning weeds shall stripped be:  
Her bloody Robes Christ then will take away,  
And all in white will her forthwith array.  
Hell's called a place of weeping, they that here,  
For all their sins would never shed a tear,  
Shall weep enough, when they tormented lie  
I' th' scorching flames of endless misery.  
But when the saints have gained the heavenly crown,  
Christ from the willows will their harps take down.  
He, for his trumpeters and heralds there  
Will call, who at his beck do all appear.  
The glorious Angels, that celestial Choir,  
With one consent, do mutually conspire,  
To warble forth the anthems of divine  
Praise, and with them the saints shall all combine,  
And shall with wondrous skill and heavenly art  
In that blessed consort, sweetly sing their part.  
If when we are i'th'arms of Christ, it were  
Possible for a saint to shed a tear,  
It would, without all paradventure, be  
A tear of joy. Christ to eternity  
With beams of love, upon his spouse will shine,  
And all her water there turn into wine.  
One smile from Christ, will make her quite forget  
Her former grievances, and straightway set  
Her on the pinnacle of joy, where she  
From all afflictions ever shall be free.  
Sorrow's a cloud, that's gathered in the heart,  
Upon the apprehension of some smart:  
And weeping, which the offspring is of pain,  
A cloud of grief is dropping into rain.  
But Christ the sun of Righteousness, shall shine  
So brightly in the heavenly Palestine,  
That there no interposing clouds shall be;  
No sorrow mixed with our felicity.  
In heaven there's no Devil to entice,  
Nothing to breed, or to engender vice.  
Saints in the bosom there of peace shall rest,  
No enemy there shall be to molest.  
Though Isr'el had subdued Canaan, yet  
Of all the Canaanites, they could not get  
The mastery, or wholly them expel;  
But they, amongst them in that Land would dwell.  
But when we with the Father are of Lights,  
We shall no more be vexed with Canaanites.  
God with a flaming sword, world without end,  
The heavenly paradise shall still defend.    

The Saints in Heaven shall have perfect Rest.  

A Pilgrim 〈◊〉, i'th' vale of misery,  
May to 〈◊〉 silver well resembled be,  
Which hath a principle of motion in it,  
But not of Rest: he almost every minute  
Is like the Ball upon the Racket, or  
The ship upon the waves that swell and roar.  
So long as sin our nature doth deface,  
And a co-habitant remains with grace,  
While Saints do feed on such unwholesome diet,  
They subject are to motion and disquiet.  
There is no rest (saith holy David) in  
My bones at all, by reason of my sin:  
Here saints are in a constant fluctuation,  
And of their sorrows have no relaxation:  
They're like the tide that flows sometime, and than  
After a while doth ebb as fast again.  
No rest on earth is to be had, 'cause we,  
While here below, out of our centre be.  
The Dove no rest after a tedious flight  
Can find, till on the Ark she did alight.  
But when the saints in heaven do arrive,  
An everlasting rest shall them revive.  
The winds of persecution often blow  
Upon this spiritual corn, whilst it doth grow  
Here in the field, and each one passing by  
Will still be plucking most inhumanely  
These sacred ears of corn; but when this crop  
Is in the heavenly Grainery laid up,  
It from the injury of wind and weather  
Shall then preserved be for altogether:  
It with impetuous storms no more oppressed  
Shall be at all, but ever be at rest.  
Not that in heaven there's no principle  
Of motion, spirits neither can nor will  
Be idle there, but such a motion 'tis  
As without lassitude and labour is.  
No weariness the saints shall there infest,  
Their work's their case, their motion is their rest:  
They labour here for rest, but there they shall  
Rest from their labours, and be freed from thrall.    

The Saints in Heaven shall have full Security.  

'TIs possible a saint some minutes may  
Of rest have here, but they soon pass away:  
Security a flower that doth not grow,  
In Nature's Garden, whilst we're here below,  
Sudden eclipses in our hemisphere  
To over-cloud our comforts oft appear.  
We here in danger are of losing what  
Our heav'n-blest industry hath fairly got.  
He that upon the pinnacle is placed  
Of honour, doubts his honour will not last:  
He that abounds in worldly wealth still fears  
A devastation by the plunderers:  
Nay a Believer, though his riches be  
Most permanent and durable, yet he  
Still pendulous and full of scruples is  
'Bout his condition, lest of heaven he miss:  
Sometimes he questions, and would gladly know,  
Whether in the state of grace he be or no?  
When Satan hath o'erreached him in some plot,  
Do I believe (saith he) or do I not?  
Something I have that shines, but is not it  
A chain of pearl that's only counterfeit?  
My Faith's presumption and my love what is't  
But love of self, and no true love to Christ.  
Yea, when the holy Spirit hath me taught  
And in my soul some sound persuasion wrought  
I soon am shaken like a ship that lies  
At anchor, when the swaggering billows rise.  
Thus these distracting fears oft make him start,  
And sad impressions leave upon his heart  
Yea, when a christian knows himself to be  
I'the state of Grace, yet than he fears lest he  
Into some scandalous offence should fall,  
And so God's spirit grieve, and deeply gall  
His own awakened conscience, and the heart  
Of God's dear children pierce through with this dart,  
Lest he thereby should sinners harden, and  
Make Babes in Grace affrighted at him stand;  
Yea, which is worst of all, lest God his spark  
Extinguish should, and leave him in the dark:  
These fears out of a gracious heart are still  
Arising like black vapours, and do fill  
The souls of saints with sorrow, but when they  
Released are out of their house of clay,  
And in th' embraces of their Saviour lie,  
Their hearts shall then have full security;  
When they with Christ in glory shall appear,  
They shall be rid of dangers and of fear.  
A Christian in this life may likened be  
Unto a man upon the summitie.  
Of some ●all Maste, sometime the pirates (I  
Mean perecutors) at his ship let fly;  
And though the passenger can't be annoyed,  
To wit, the soul, yet oft the ship's destroyed.  
Sometimes the winds of strong temptation blow,  
Those northern winds, and the poor christian now  
God's favour questions much, and gladly would  
Know if his name were in God's Book enrolled.  
And though in Christ having an interest,  
There is no danger, yet his heart can't rest.  
But when he is with Christ off from the mast,  
And planted on that rock, all peril's past:  
Then you shall hear him say, Now I am sure  
I've shot the Gulf, my soul is now secure:  
I'm past from death to life, no Sirens charms  
Henceforth can pluck me from my Saviors arms.    

In Heaven there shall be a Vindication of Names.  

THough Saints a conscience here void of offence  
Towards God & man have, yet their innocence  
By poisoned arrows of malicious words  
Oft wounded is, which sharper are than swords.  
The Devil that old serpent sticks not to  
Spit out his venom at the godly through  
The mouths of wicked men, if he can't smite  
Their consciences with his keen darts, and fright  
Their souls into despair, he then will put  
A dead fly in their names, which oft doth cut  
Them to the very heart, the saints we see  
Unto the world oft times deciphered be  
In a sad manner; who can e'er express  
How strangely saints look in the Devils dress?  
Job to the world was represented by  
His Friends as one stained with hypocrisy:  
Saint Paul was styled a seditious man,  
When he to publish heavenly truths began.  
The marks of Christ he in his body did  
Not only bear, but in his name beside.  
Yea, Christ himself, who blessed is for ever  
Was called of the people a deceiver:  
And still the Devils instruments assay  
The saints in ugly colours to portray.  
A heinous sin, no doubt, 'tis to defame  
A christian by bespattering his good name,  
It is no less than murder, rather he  
Would lose his life, than's credit soiled should be.  
Who so his neighbour wounds in's reputation  
For it can never make him reparation.  
Flaws in men's credit are like blots in white  
Paper, which one can hardly fetch out quite.  
Or if the wound itself should cured be,  
Some scar to their perpetual obloquy  
Would still remain; in fine, they do defame  
The God of saints, who blast the saints good name.  
Believers have God's picture on their hearts,  
And he that casteth his malicious darts  
Against it, or profanely spits upon't,  
Offers to God himself no small affront:  
Well, either God the innocence will clear  
Of his Elect, while they do sojourn here.  
when graceless-men them with their tongues do smite  
Their righteousness he'll bring forth as the light,  
Or else without all peradventure at  
The day of Doom their names he'll vindicate,  
Though troublers now of Israel styled they be,  
The day shall come when their integrity  
By him shall be proclaimed, who only knows  
The hearts of men, and can their thoughts disclose.  
The dust that here upon their reputation  
Was thrown by men of evil conversation  
Shall then be wiped off, and they no more  
Shall loaded be with scandals as before.  
The credits then of those shall be redeemed,  
Of whom the world so basely here esteemed.  
For names Jehovah (who is great and good)  
Shall inquisition make as well as blood;  
And then the saints shall such a lustre gain,  
As no polluted breath can ever slain.  
Then God himself the stone of obloquy  
Which here below on their good names did lie,  
Estsoons shall roll away and they out from  
Among the pots immediately shall come,  
Where they were blacked and sulled, and shall be  
No more traduced to eternity.  
They then must needs appear without a blur,  
When God himself is their compurgator.    

The Graces of the Saints shall be perfect in heaven.  

HEre Grace to silver may resembled be,  
Which hath some dross blended with its purity;  
But when 'tis coined in the heavenly mint,  
No mixture of corruption shall be in't.  
When we're advanced to the celestial throne,  
Grace shall be flowered into perfection:  
It then most certainly refined shall be  
Into the highest power and purity.  
This contemplation should unto a saint  
Be very sweet, our love hath here, I grant,  
Its winter in our breasts, but it shall be  
As fire ad octo in eternity.  
No smoke of imperfection shall obscure  
That radiant flame, or render it impure.  
Our graces in such orient colours there  
As never can be soiled shall appear.  
There grace shall want no measure no degree,  
But to eternity shall perfect be.  
It may be here compared to a star  
Imprisoned in a cloud, but when we are  
Once fixed in the firmament one high,  
It like the sun in a most glorious sky  
Shall then appear, and there a regal crown  
Of rare and matchless beauty shall put on.  
In fine, 'tis manifest in sacred story,  
That grace shall then be swallowed up in glory.     

THE BEAUTY AND BLESSEDNESS OF Glorified Bodies.  

WHile we're on Earth, our earthly tabernacle  
Is of infirmities the receptacle,  
Physicians find with all their art and skill  
Enough to do to pieceed up for a while.  
Our house of clay like to a picture is,  
That's out of frame, or like an edifice  
That wants repair; how soon each sudden blast  
Of sickness doth its strength and beauty waste?  
How often is the heavenborn spirit penned  
Up in a most deformed tenement?  
To rotten wood the body may indeed  
Be likened, where like worms diseases breed:  
But yet this piece of clay bespangled shall  
With glory be above in heavens Whitehall.  
No Fever there or Pleurisy shall be,  
No wound, distemper, or deformity  
But all the issues of infirmity,  
That here beset the holiest saints shall dry  
Up in illustrious splendour, there for aye  
With greater beauty God shall them array  
Then that of Phoebus, when it shines most bright,  
And blaz'ned is in its meridian light:  
There Leah shan't complain of her blear eyes,  
Nor aged Barzilla of infirmities.  
Wither the body's glory doth rebound  
From the souls blessedness and so redound  
By a continued constant influence  
Upon the body, with much diligence  
I shall not here inquire, or whether by  
Jchovahs' powerful hand originally  
In the reformed body 'tis implanted,  
This in the general is on all sides granted,  
That in the morning of the resurrection  
It shall be raised up in great perfection:  
And like the glorious Body of our dear  
Saviour in heavenly splendour shall appear:  
Which is a happiness most excellent,  
Superlative and supereminent.   

Glorified BODIES immortal.  

DEath is the bitter and accursed fruit  
Of sin, a worm still feeding at the root  
Of our decaying Gourds, but when we die,  
Our mortal puts on immort alitie.  
As 'twas with Adam in his innocence,  
Had not sin stripped him of his excellence,  
Such harmony between each quality  
There of his Body was, that probably  
Of life he never should have been bereaven,  
But have translated been to th'highest heaven,  
Indeed by Bellarmine it is averred,  
That Adam died had, though he ne'er had erred.  
But there's no ground for this assertion in  
The sacred scripture to be found, there sin  
Is made the formal cause of death, however,  
Death our bodies glorified shall never  
Dominion have, but they by heaven's decree  
Are made as long lived as eternity.  
That God, who Manna made some ages past  
Hundreds of years'th ' golden pot to last,  
Shall so consolidate the body by  
His sovereign power, that it shall never die,  
But with impossibility of ever  
Perishing shall in blissful state persevere.    

Heavenly Bodies impassable  

SOul grinding sores Jobs Body soft and tender  
Invaded, and therein did worms engender:  
And every worm was actuated by  
A Devil to augment his misery,  
(As Origen asserts) converted Paul,  
Who was sometime before his funeral  
Bathed in the crystal streams of heavenly bliss,  
Did in his body bear the marks of his  
Dear Lord and Saviour: but our bodies when  
They are possessed of the magazine  
Of blessedness, impassable shall be  
From agonizing torments wholly free,  
That such a passion bodies glorified  
Have, as delightful is, can't be denied,  
Since they of joy are capable, but this  
Is certain, when they in the lap of bliss  
Once dandled are, to violence they shall  
ne'er be exposed, or misery at all.    

Heavenly Bodies Agile.  

THe bodies of the saints terestrial  
Are heavy in their motion, but they shall  
Be with incredible agility  
Endowed, when they above the blew-flowred sky  
Translated are into the throne of bliss,  
Which for triumphant saints prepared is.  
A lump of Lead which to the bottom still  
Sinks, being wyre-drawn by the workman's skill  
Into the form and fashion of a Boat,  
(Saith Austen) will upon the waters float:  
And shall not God give that ability  
Unto the body of a saint, when by  
His sovereign power 'tis raised up from the dead,  
Which the artificer gives to the Lead:  
The soul is in its operations by  
The bodies lumpish ponderosity  
Obstructed here, when e'er it doth assay  
Unto the heavenly throne to make its way,  
Or Would aspire to the celestial crown,  
That like a Leaden-plummet pulls at down.  
But when the grave from out its pregnant womb  
Shall cast its treasure, at the day of doom,  
When saints out of their beds of earth shall rise,  
And be refined, it shall be otherwise:  
Elementary gravity shall no  
Impeding obstacle ere be unto  
Their bodies then, but swift and facile they  
Shall in their motion be, and that for ay.    

Heavenly BODIES Amiable  

THe Body when to Heaven it takes its flight  
Shall be like iron filled and made bright,  
It shall coruscant be, and with divine  
Luster in the celestial Orb shall shine.  
Like to the sun in splendour it shall be,  
Nay seven times brighter in its clarity:  
The Body of a saint impure before  
And drossy, like the Gold when in the ore,  
Shall glister, when reformed and glorified,  
Like burnished Gold i'th' furnace often tried.  
It so transparent then and clear no doubt  
Shall be, as that the soul shall sally out  
At every part, and through the bodies as  
The Wine shall sparkle through a Venice-glass.  
Such glorious brightness and resplendency  
The body steeped in felicity  
Ennoble shall, that should we it compare  
With Sols most radiant beams that gilled the air,  
We to th'expression of the excellence  
Of its illustrious pre-eminence  
Shall nothing say at all—.     


The beauty and blessedness of Glorified Souls.  

IT would an endless labour be no doubt,  
If I should undertake to shadow out  
The several glories of each faculty  
Of the refined soul, (undoubtedly)  
All humane rhetoric and angelical  
Too narrow is e'er to express them all  
Unto the life, my purpose only is  
A taste to give you of its perfect bliss:  
Yet from those clusters which I here present,  
A saint may reap much sweetness and content.    

The Saint's Knowledge perfected in Heaven.  

THe intellectual part enlarged shall be  
With knowledge i'th' superlative degree,  
It all things there cognoscible shall know,  
That from its eye were vailed here below:  
Whatever knowledge comes within the sphere  
Of finite understandings it shall there  
Perfectly comprehend, no mystery  
Shall scape the ken of its enlightened eye.  
Knowledge of nature, arts, and things created  
Delightful is, and highly estimated.  
Some Heathens were with Philosophical  
Wisdom, and beams of intellectual  
Light so enamoured, that they did contemn  
The world as nothing to that peerless Gem.  
Aeneas Silvius long ago did say  
Unto a Doctor once of Austria,  
That if the face of humane Learning could  
Be seen by mortal eyes, it (doubtless) would  
Appear more beautiful and brighter far,  
Than doth the morning or the evening star.  
In other pleasures a satiety  
There is, when they are used, by and by  
Their verdure doth departed, which argues that  
It is the Novelty doth recreate,  
And not the Quality, and that they be  
Pleasures in thought, not in reality.  
Ambitious Princes are not always jolly,  
But are sometimes o'erwhelmed with melancholy,  
And men o'recharged with voluptuousness  
Oft sheathe their bodies in a Friars dress.  
But there's of Knowledge no satiety,  
The more we drink of this the more we dry:  
Here satisfaction and appetite  
Do meet, with interchangeable delight,  
Which plainly proves that it is really  
Good, without accident of fallacy.  
Now this inferior knowledge to the height  
Shall there be raised by him who dwells in light,  
And so completed be as that the least  
And lowest saint of heaven once possessed  
The causes of all natural things far more  
Exactly comprehend shall than before,  
And have a clearer sight of the conclusions  
Of art, through th' optics of divine infusions,  
Then ere could be attained by the eye  
Of Nature, Reason, or Philosophy.  
In every kind of humane learning there  
Some strange aenigmas daily do appear,  
Which exercised have from time to time  
The bravest wits, but (ah) so dark, so dim  
By nature, is each intellectual eye,  
That they those Gordian knots could ne'er untie;  
Whether the rolling Orbs by angels are  
Moved, or internal forms, who can declare?  
Whether in man three souls distinct there be,  
Or one in substance only virtually  
Containing th'other two, too intricate  
A question is for humane wits to state.  
The souls fair wings do flag here and decay,  
Some feathers sick are, and oft drop away.  
Here one Philosopher of his head oft makes  
Doleful complaints, his understanding aches,  
His reason's dimmed, a second sadly cries,  
A third's soul trembles with uncertainties:  
One grasps a cloud of errors, and another  
Spends in untying some hard knot or other  
Much of his time, one's pleased to recreate  
Himself i'th' shadow of his own conceit,  
Another all his netves so long doth bend  
Till they oft snap asunder in the end:  
You Socrates may in the twilight see  
Sadly lamenting the obscurity  
Of his benighted state, and telling you,  
His Lamp can nought but his own darkness show.  
You may discover Plato sitting by  
The banks of Lethe in an agony:  
And through the limbecks of his moistened eyes  
Distilling pearly drops in mournful wise,  
Because he can't by all his industry  
His former Notions call to memory.  
Look on the Naturalists head and you shall see  
It nonplussed with an occult quality.  
But when the soul ascendeth up on high,  
All misty clouds shall be dispelled by  
The clear sun of a knowledge more refined,  
And chased out of the region of the mind.  
So that it then exactly shall descry  
The causes, natures, rise and progeny,  
Together with the ends of all things that  
Jehovahs' powerful word did  create.  
It clearly then each Gospel mystery  
Which here surpassed all humane scrutiny  
Shall see, and most exactly comprehend  
The darkest passages that e'er were penned,  
Whether Jobes wife her ploughs' husband bid  
Bless or Curse God, and whether Jephta did  
His Daughter sacrifice to God on high,  
Or consecrate her to virginity.  
Whether Naaman a real convert were,  
Or one in semblance only did appear.  
That scripture than each one that runs shall read,  
Why then are they baptised for the dead?  
When saints the heavenly paradise inherit,  
They shall be hold with ravishment of spirit  
Those sacred mysteries, which here below  
Some boldly dive into, but cannot know;  
They then shall see and shall rejoice to see  
How three make one, and one again makes three:  
They then shall apprehend with admiration  
The miracles of Christ his incarnation,  
They then the dark and secret mystery  
Of providence exactly shall descry.  
While we in tenements of clay do dwell,  
What God is doing of we cannot tell:  
He many times in shorthand writeth, and  
His characters we cannot understand:  
We seeing here but darkly through a glass,  
The footsteps of his providence can't trace:  
But when w'ye vested in the costly dress  
And choice attire of heaven's happiness  
A reason of divine transactions we  
Shall then without all peradventure see  
In every providence we then (not doubt)  
A wonder or a mercy shall spy out.  
A Limner at the first albeit endued  
With skill enough, yet maketh but a rude  
Draught in the picture, but when every part  
And lineament is limned out by his art,  
And in their colours laid, it by and by  
Appears most amiable to the eye.  
We who in robes of flesh are clothed here,  
Do only see a rude draught, as it were  
Some pieces of mysterious providence  
Obscurely shadowed out, but when from hence  
We at the haven of felicity  
Arrived are, and clearly do descry  
The portraiture of providence drawn ous  
In all its lively colours, it (no doubt)  
Will be a blessed and a glorious sight,  
Feeding the soul with infinite delight.  
In fine, when saints upon the shore do land  
Of blessedness, they then shall understand  
The mystery of hearts, they then shall see  
To their content an heart anatomy:  
For every work with every secret thing  
Jehovah then shall into judgement bring.  
They then the cabinet designs shall ken,  
And privy counsels of the hearts of men.  
The heart is deep, we may it well compare  
Unto a river that hath very fair  
Streams gliding on the top, but when this brook  
Comes to be drained, who so doth in it look,  
Much vermin at the bottom shall espy,  
That lay before concealed from the eye:  
Thus with the heart of man it is, some fair  
Streams running on the top there ofttimes are,  
A civil life, a specious pretence,  
Of zeal, of purity, and innocence.  
But when the tryer of the reins shall come  
To drain this river at the day of doom,  
When God shall make a full discovery  
Of hearts, the crawling vermin by and by  
Of avarice, and of ambition shall  
Appear, and clearly be discerned of all:  
All secret things shall then be brought to light,  
'Twere worth the dying to behold that sight.    

The Saints Love perfected in Heaven.  

LOve is the jewel, the rich ornament,  
with which Christ's Bride is decked, more excellent  
'Tis in a sense than Faith, for love doth never  
Cease, but abides for aye, as soon as ever  
The saints to heaven come, Faith's orient Gem  
They strait put off, but not loves Diadem.  
Love's sparkling beams with their resplendency  
Shall gild the soul to all eternity.  
While here below we wallow in the mire,  
Our love to God is rather a desire.  
But when upon the spicy Mountain we  
Of bliss are lodged, and face to face do see;  
When Hallelujahs we shall with the choir  
Of angels sing, the smoke then of desire  
Into a ●●ame of Love blown up shall be,  
We then shall Love God in the highest degree.  
Our love is lukewarm here, and sometimes frozen,  
It much afflicts the spirits of the chosen,  
That in the grace of Love they are so poor,  
And that they can their Maker love no more.  
But there's a time approaching shortly when  
Their Love shall blaze and burn as hot as't can.  
The damned in a flame of fire shall be,  
The saints of Love to perpetuity.  
Here flattering objects steal our Love away  
From God, but there it never shall decay.  
You in the morning may behold the grass  
With drops of dew all covered over, as  
So many pearls but when the sun draws near  
With scorching beams, they straightway disappear.  
Perchance wh●n our affections once are stirred  
Up by the quickening virtue of the Word,  
Or when we see the precious blood of Christ  
Trickling as't were down in the Eucharist;  
Our hearts then melt with love, some love-drops fall  
Down from the Limbecks of our eyes, but all  
Again doth vanish in a little space,  
And our first-love declines and spends apace  
While here on Earth we Mortals have our station,  
This matter is of great humiliation.  
But when our God in glory we shall see,  
Our Love shall fixed as well as fervent be:  
It ne'er shall taken off be any more  
From him whom Saints and Angels all adore.  
Such beauty in Jehovah then shall shine,  
That always as a Loadstone most divine,  
He sweetly shall attract each heart and eye,  
Oh blessed fight! Oh rare felicity!  
Between the saints a mutual accord  
There shall be too, there Enmity's abhorred;  
The Pulse of their affection towards each other  
Shall strongly beat; here brother strives with brother;  
But in the Paradise above the plant  
Of Love arrives at perfect growth: I grant  
Our natures here are sometime so defaced,  
That grace cannot so great a lustre cast.  
In aiming at, that mark we here shoot wide,  
Bad men unite, when goodmen oft divide.  
'Mong saints contentions never were more hot,  
Nor Love more cold, saints against saints do plot;  
Many there are, who Members are of Christ,  
Whose music all in discords doth consist,  
Whose Harp the Cross is, who the truth pretend  
To Love, but won't an ear to concord lend.  
Divisions are the powder-plot, whereby  
Satan blows up the Church's unity.  
Sin brought forth separation, and this Daughter  
Her cursed Mother too much taking after,  
The Grandchild of Division to our smart  
Hath born, great thoughts & search there of heart  
Are for these things, it is no marvel I  
Conceive at all to hear the Harlot cry,  
Pray let the Child divided be: But oh  
To hear the Mother of the Child say so,  
That's very sad: No wonder 'tis to see  
Pope, Jesuit, and Sectary agree  
To rend the bowels of their tender Mother,  
But for one saint to persecute another,  
That's very strange, 'tis such a sight as doth  
Provoke to pity and amazement both.  
For Wolves to worry Lambs 'tis usual,  
For Lambs each other, that's unnatural.  
It is an ordinary thing, you know,  
Among the thorns to see Christ's Lily grow,  
But for this Lily to become a thorn,  
And tear itself, to see't who doth not mourn?  
Well this a foil will be the more to set  
Off Heaven, there our Love shall ever get  
And kept the upper hand of Enmity,  
Of judgement there no difference shall be:  
I'th' journeys end saints shall agree, no doubt  
Though by the way they many times fall our.  
When once Christ's harp in th'ears of saints hath sounded,  
The evil spirit shall be quite confounded:  
When to the highest peg of bliss, our strings  
Shall once be wounded up by the King of Kings,  
No discord in our Music then shall be,  
In heaven there's a perfect harmony:   

But stay my Muse, forbear to prosecute  
This lofty theme, lest thou be strucken mure  
By th' ne'er enough admired depth and height  
Of heaven's bliss transcending all conceit.  
None to the life can limne out heaven's glory,  
Although they study nought but Oratory.  
Saint Austin by a Bishop of his time  
Being requested earnestly to climb  
Up in his thoughts to the Imperial Court  
Above, and of its joys, to make report,  
While he addressed himself unto the task,  
Attempting heavens beauty to unmask,  
Whilst on the wing he soared of contemplation,  
And in the depth was of his meditation,  
A voice articulate, distinct and clear  
Arrived at the portal of his ear,  
Saying, what meanest thou (Austin?) dost thou ever  
Hope to effect what thou dost now endeavour?  
Dost thou th' expanded Ocean in thy hand  
 think to measure, or to grasp the Land  
Within thy shallow fist? Leave altogether  
The search of heaven till thou comest thither.  
If that bright star was by an heavenly voice  
Silenced, and from the handling of so choice  
A theme prohibited, How then may I  
Into those sacred secrets dare to pry?  
Let it in brief suffice to know that all  
The Rhetoric of the Choir angelical  
Is not enough to reach the top and height  
Of heaven's glory, pleasure, and delight,  
Nor all the bitter sighs and hellish groans  
Of damned spirits and tormented ones,  
Who labour under an eternal cross,  
Sufficient to bewail so great a loss.     

Practical Conclusions From the former DISCOURSE.  


THey that expect a glorious translation,  
Must lead on Earth a gracious conversation,  
Of doing well it never must repent them,  
A common course of life must not content them,  
Their bosome-sins they must est-soon discard,  
Which do their motion heaven-ward retard,  
How pure had they need be who fix their eye  
Upon a place free from impurity?  
In righteousness they others must excel,  
Who hope for heaven where righteousness doth dwell.  
In Glories famous University  
They Graduates can never look to be,  
Who are not in the school of grace with store  
Of Piety well principled before.  
Holiness is heaven's happiness, a sign,  
Heaven was not built to be a sty for swine.  
No sinful souls may there themselves embark,  
As unclean creatures once in Noah's ark.  
The wine of angels never was nor shall  
Be pressed out to fill old casks withal.  
Garlands of Glory they shall never wear,  
In whom the flowers of Grace don't first appear.    

The Second Practical Conclusion.  

O Let the thoughts of heavens endless joy  
Bear up thy heart when sorrows would annoy;  
Under temptations let thy soul be glad,  
An interest in heaven and be sad:  
Although the Led of trouble, downward move,  
Yet let the Cork of Faith still swim above.  
This world's afflictions, which are transitory,  
Hold no comparison with the weight of glory.  
When melancholy did the sceptre sway  
In Caesar's heart, he then was wont to say,  
Remember thou art Caesar; and thereby,  
Dethroned that usurping Enemy.  
When outward crosses on thy spirit lie,  
Make a presume of a perplexity,  
By musing often on thine interest  
In God, in Christ, and in that place of rest.  
Where swallowed up all worldly sorrows shall  
Where in the vision beatifical.  
St. Basil doth of certain Martyrs writ  
Exposed naked in a winter's night  
To the inclemency of wind and weather  
Being the next day to be burnt together:  
That in this plight they were no whit dismayed,  
But comfortably to each other said,  
Sharp is the cold, but sweet is Paradise,  
This torment's nothing to that pearl of price.  
The Way is thorny, and our feet may gall,  
Our journey's end will make amends for al.  
Let us a while endure the cold, and than  
The Patriarches bosom warm us shall again.  
Let our feet burn, that we may when we die  
Dance with the Angels to eternity.  
And so much joy there is in store for me,  
Said blessed Philpot, that although I be  
Up in a place of doleful darkness penned,  
Yet wretched sinner I cannot lament,  
But night and day I am as full of glee,  
As if from crosses I were wholly free.  
Yea, ne'er was I in all my life before  
So cheered as now I'm landing at the shore:  
The contemplation of eternity  
Pulls out the sting of worldly misery.  
It turns the hissing serpent of temptation  
Into a blossoming rod of consolation,  
It makes the oil of gladness swim and lie  
Above the water of adversity,  
It out of every cross doth take the core,  
It sucks the poison out of every sore.  
It draws the anguish out of every groan,  
And cutteth each calamity of the stone.  
They cannot choose but lead a joyful life,  
In whom the thoughts of heaven are most rise.  
That crystal fountain to perplexed hearts  
Sweet draughts of consolation oft imparts.    

The Third Practical Conclusion.  

O Let there be within thy soul a dearth  
Of worldly thoughts, lest doting on the earth  
Thou forfeit those refined sweets, which lie  
Safe in the bosom of eternity.  
Cold comfort is in creatures to be found,  
Contentment grows not in such barren ground.  
Heaven is the spring from whence a loan doth flow  
Sweet satisfaction to the faints below.  
Where others set their hearts, there set thy feet,  
Such counsel for a christian is most meet.  
Spend not thy coin for that which is not bread,  
But with disdain on earth's enjoyments tread.  
Fasten thine eyes upon that glorious state,  
For which the saints with expectation wait.  
Part not with that invaluable treasure,  
For a few drops of moment any pleasure.  
O hazard not thyself to endless woes,  
For things that are as fading as the Rose.  
What fruit hath Dives of his rich attire,  
Or dainty fare in the infernal fire?  
Of her dissolved Gems what pleasing taste  
Hath Cleoparra now her life is past?  
What sweetness now finds Heliogabalus  
In the Elixirs of his various  
And costly Cates? What pleasures now arise  
From his unheard of sensualities?  
O toy not then with beggarly delights!  
Divert thine eye from earth's enchanting sights;  
Relish no earthly joys, nor highly prize  
The gilded pomp of worldly fantasies:  
What cares and fears gripe those who thus excel?  
Rich discontent is but a glorious hell.  
Though thou to sojourn here on earth art driven  
Yet let thy Faith be breathing still in heaven.  
O fix thine eye upon thy future station,  
Let that be floating on thy meditation.  
The matchless glory which thy present state  
Succeedeth, time shall never antiquate:  
Let all thy studies to that centre tend,  
The blessedness of heaven knows no end;  
Be sure to make eternity the sphere  
Of all thy thoughts even while thou livest here,  
And let thy contemplation often be  
Prying upon thy future dignity;  
Be ever thinking thus, Oh when shall I  
Take up my lodging in eternity!  
Still Rally up thy thoughts, and Muster them  
To prosecute the heavenly Diadem:  
And learn with studiousness to methodize  
The grand affairs in which thy safety lies.  
O let thy soul unto eternity  
As Eagles to the carcase swiftly fly,  
And there be always hover up and down,  
Till thou a fight gain of the eternal crown.  
While others fill their thoughts with dirt, and go  
After the muddy comforts here below,  
O do not thou disgrace and vilify  
Thy soul that of-set of divinity;  
With such vain contemplations don't affect  
I'th' sumptuous casket of thine intellect  
To lay up pebbles; 'tis a very gross  
Sin for a saint to study dung and dross,  
To putrify his thoughts with objects which  
Defiling are, and oft the heart bewitch.  
Our lives like Candles in the wind are here,  
To which each blast proves an extinguisher.  
Or like to Glasses, that are broken by  
A gentle knock, and into shivers fly.  
There's no distemper but may in the womb  
Of Earth our dying carcases entomb.  
Since than we are so brittle and so frail  
Let us not cease to peep within the vail,  
Let's fix our thoughts upon eternal bliss,  
Which our estate behind the curtain is:  
Our vessels to that Haven let us steer  
And anchor all our meditations there.  
The thoughts of Heaven put a mask before  
The beauties which all carnal hearts adore.  
Of sensual appetites they dull the edge  
And cast a rust upon the golden wedge.  
Such contemplations do anatomise  
The flattering world in its varieties.  
And of its cheat each vein and artery  
Most clearly and distinctly do descry.  
Eternal glory ruminated on  
Will slain the beauty of the regal throne.  
'Twil raise the heart and the affections carry  
Far above all contentments sublunary.  
This opes the eyes and make a saint espy  
Much paint, imposture, and fugacity  
In the most rich and flourishing estate  
That comes within the worldly man's conceit.  
When once a saint through Faith's prospective glass  
Peeps into heaven and descries the mass  
Of never fading wealth laid up in store  
For such as God in purity adore,  
The cream of creature comforts by and by  
Grows stolen and curdles into vanity.  
The Dagon straight of worldly bliss doth fall,  
Before the thoughts of joy celestial.  
As pretty labouring Bees, although they live  
I'th' midst of wax and honey in their Hive,  
Yet are their nimble wings not hindered by  
That viscous matter, that they cannot fly  
Abroad, or swiftly pass from flower to flower,  
To gather thyme to carry to their bower.  
So thou that dost in the abundance dwell  
Of worldly Delicates as in a cell  
Of sweetness, shouldst beware, lest earthly things  
To thine affections cleave, which are the wings  
Of thine immortal soul, that may retard  
Thy daily flight and motion heaven-ward:  
That may abate thy thoughts activity  
In their oft musing on the mystery  
Of heaven's bliss, which chief and above  
All things a saint delight in should and love.  
The Loadstone doth its virtue lose and can't  
Iron attract placed near the Adamant;  
And shall the world thy heart draw and entice,  
For all the nearness of the pearl of price?  
Hagar, no doubt, would have contented been  
With her exhausted Bottle, had she seen  
The Well that was beside her; so should saints  
With little of the world, since God acquaints  
Them with a spring of living water nigh,  
Which shall refresh them to eternity.    

The Fourth Practical Conclusion.  

THough heaven be an edifice so wide,  
That myriads of souls may there reside  
Yet thither all shall not advanced be;  
To many Christ will say, Depart from me,  
I never knew you, never did approve  
Of your Devotion, or pretended love;  
Who Vassals are to sin, cannot expect  
A share in blessedness with Gods Elect.  
The Cherubims with flaming swords do stand,  
To stop their passage to the Holy Land.  
The Chaff may with the Wheat together lie  
Here in the floor, not in the Granatie;  
No sons of Belial e'er refreshed shall  
Be with the dews of joys celestial.  
Their heads with glory never shall be crowned,  
Whose hearts were never consecrated ground.  
Such in the landscape of a single glance  
Shall ne'er behold the saints inheritance.  
Or if they do, 'tis to accumulate  
The infelicity of their  state.  
Although the serpent into Paradise  
Did wind itself the Woman to entice:  
Yet not defiled soul by all its skill  
Shall e'er ascend or scale Gods holy hill.  
Great Pompey's theatre was styled by  
Turtullian of all filthiness the sty:  
But Heaven's Nonesuch, there is not the least  
Tincture of sin to slain that place of rest.  
There no temptation shall the saints assail,  
No sinful lust shall lodge within the veil.  
Heaven is the sacred and imperial court  
Of God's immediate presence; where (in short)  
His purer eyes shall ne'er offended be  
With the least rising of deformity.    

Marks of our Interest in Heaven.  

THey that shall wear the Royal Diadem  
Of glory in the New Jerusalem  
Are Scions off from Nature's Olive broke  
And grafted new into another stock.  
God hath dismantled the old man in part,  
Who full possession once had of the heart.  
Some carnal lust falls from them every day,  
That in the soul did formerly bear sway.  
They loosed are from the grave-cloaths of sin,  
Which heretofore they were involved in.  
Their wont paths they willingly forsake,  
And in the ways of God much pleasure take.  
The fignet of the word and heavenly print  
Hath stamped on their hearts once satins mint.  
The spirits gale hath blown upon them, and  
Turned their course towards the Holy Land;  
Their lives bespangled are with holiness,  
His Virtues that hath called them they express,  
The rays of Christ's transcendent beauty shine  
Upon them, and their hearts to him incline.  
Temptations womb is in the bitths of sin,  
Less fruitful than it heretofore hath been.  
The weeds of lust decay in them apace,  
And in their room springs up the Herb of Grace.    

The Second Mark  

THeir souls are carried out with violence,  
Heaven to attain they pine at no expense.  
As Gods redeemed Israel by his aid  
The Land of Promise stoutly did invade:  
So his Elect and chosen Generation  
Lay siege unto the heavenly habitation.  
There's no arriving at eternal life,  
They know full well, without this holy strife.  
To heaven with all celerity they high,  
As flocks of Doves unto their windows fly,  
They march on speedily without delay,  
Although there be a Lion in the way.  
The wings of Faith bear them above those fears,  
Which carnal hearts do penetrate like spears.  
They break through all obstructions that they may  
Possess themselves of their intended prey.  
The batteries of their prai'rs'gainst heaven they plant  
And stormed, till God to them an entrance grant:  
They ask in Faith and will not be denied,  
Heaven they must have, what e'er they want beside.  
At this they aim, to this each saint aspires,  
〈◊〉 here's the centre of their choice desires.    

The Third Mark.  

THey by the new and living way do go  
The veil of Christ's humanity; they know,  
That there is no salvation to be had  
In any other: if they be not clad  
With his unspotted robes of righteousness,  
They can't be saved in any other dress.  
There's no name under heaven that can ease us  
Of sins enthralment, but the name of Jesus.  
Saints by his merits only do attain  
Eternal life, which is the greatest gain.  
Good works to heaven's kingdom are the way,  
The cause of reigning that we dare not say.  
Christ is the Door, and there's no entering in  
But by his blood, which clonseth from all sin:  
He is the curtain, the refreshing screen,  
Us and God's scorching ire that stands between  
The deluge of his wrath no man can shun,  
Unless with speed into this ark he run:  
They lose themselves for ever, who assay  
To go to heaven any other way.    

The Fourth Mark.  

THeir souls oft soar above the spangled sky,  
And unto Heaven in contemplation fly;  
Mount Tabor they do frequently ascend,  
To eye the glory that may there be kenned:  
They heaven always have within their eye,  
Which makes them earthly trifles to defy.  
Their hearts are only fixed on things above,  
These are the chiefest objects of their love.  
The blessed God their thoughts still dwell upon,  
An eartely saints a contradiction.  
Though they to sojourn here below are driven,  
Yet is their conversation still in heaven:  
There is their treasure, there their chief estate,  
From which no wile their hearts can separate.  
How to be great on earth is not their plot,  
They use the world as though they used it not.  
The pleasures of this life they little heed,  
Their thoughts upon the fairest objects feed.  
They're always pressing forward towards the mark,  
And long to taste the Manna in heaven's ark.    

The Fifth Practical Conclusion.  

O Long to be installed in the throne  
Of endless glory, let thy spirit groan  
After a full and plenary possession  
Of blessedness transcending all expression;  
Pant after that unparallelled estate,  
One mite whereof surpasseth all conceit.  
Be like the Bird of Paradise, which (they say)  
Being entangled in the snare, straightway  
Gins to strive, and never giveth o'er  
Till she enjoy her freedom as before.  
Sing Simeons swanlike song at his decease,  
Lord, let thy servant now depart in peace.  
Welcome the messenger of death, which brings  
Most joyful tidings from the King of Kings;  
Which tells the saints of an approaching crown  
Of matchless glory, honour, and renown.  
Death is the chariot, which without delay  
Saints to their Father's house soon bears away.  
Death lodgeth souls, i'th' twinkling of an eye,  
In the sweet bosom of felicity:  
Death is to humble penitents no less  
Than a short entrance into happiness:  
Their nasty loathsome rags death frees them from,  
And gives them change of raiment in their room.  
Death is the saints ascension day to bliss,  
Their marriage day with Jesus Christ it is.  
Death is the Charter of their liberty,  
The period of their pain and misery:  
Death gives them an immunity from sin,  
And frees them from the fears they once were in:  
Death is the bane of woe, the grave of vice,  
The portal opening into Paradise.  
Where grace, that in the bud was here below,  
Into the flower of glory strait shall blow,  
Where saints immortal souls made more divine  
Shall with the diamonds of perfection shine.  
Where they to their unspeakable delight  
Of God himself shall have a perfect sight;  
Where in their wills there shall a likeness be  
To God in holiness and purity.  
Where having shot the gulf of Death they shall  
Wear on their heads a crown imperial.  
Where the rich caskets of their souls shall be  
overlayed with glories best embroidery.  
Where in the river they of pleasures shall  
Be bathed, whose sweetness is perpetual.  
Where no contaminating tincture e'er  
Shall their unspotted purity besmear.  
Where God himself unto the saints shall be  
A spring of life to perpetuity.  
Where they shall in the fragrant bosom li●  
Of their beloved to eternity;  
Where saints by virtue of their Saviour's merit  
Shall always have fresh incomes of the spirit.  
Where the enammel of their glory shall  
Never wear off, nor soiled be at all.  
Where they shall have a rich redundancy  
Of peace, joy, comfort and serenity.  
Where they their safety shall behold from all  
Insulting foes, and their eternal thrall.  
Where they a glorious kingdom shall receive,  
Of which no power on earth can them bereave.  
Where they shall be partakers of that joy,  
Which will them satisfy, but never cloy.  
Where Baca into Beracha shall be  
Converted, mourning into melody.  
Where brinish tears shall never dim their eyes,  
Nor shall their ears be frighted more with cries.  
Where sorrows ne'er shall damp their hearrs again,  
Nor shall their senses be disturbed with pain.  
Where they no more shall persecuted be  
By Satan's imps for their integrity.  
Where saints with sparkling Gems of glory shall  
Be decked, and not be envied for't at all.  
Where length of years without the least decay  
Of strength they shall enjoy; yea, where for ay  
They shall be blessed with the love of many,  
And need not fear the jealoufie of any:  
Where for their labour a Quietus est  
Each saint shall have, and ever be at rest.  
Where life and immortality they shall  
Have for their death in Christ, and Christ for all.     

The Conclusion of the whole.  

THe Glory that within the curtain lies  
Can't measured be by our capacities.  
There's more within the veil than by the best  
And most sublimed saint can be expressed;  
Grace may believe't, but Reason cannot sound  
The bottom of't, though never so profound.  
In fathoming this rich inheritance,  
What's all acuteness but mere ignorance?  
He cannot reach this glory that's indu'de  
With knowledge in the largest latitude.  
If Nature's secretary did not know  
The cause why Euripus did ebb and flow,  
O how then would his Reason puzz'led be  
To sound the Ocean of Eternity?  
What the inspired Penman doth relate  
Of natural men and unregenerate,  
Respectively to spir'tuals, that they are  
Not able them to comprehend or bear:  
The same more truly may asserted be,  
In reference unto Eternity.  
'Tis with the prospect of eternity  
As to the Ocean it is with the eye:  
It may its surface, not its bottom see.  
And so some dark and glimmering knowledge we  
May have of heaven, but no mortal eye  
Into its in side able is to pry.  
The blindman half restored to his sight  
Said, Lo, I see by this imperfect light  
Men walk as trees: So may a purblind eye  
Glance at the riches of Eternity.  
Some few weak parcels of the knowledge we  
May of it gain, but not its Centre see.  
He that was carried up above the sky,  
To see a Landscape of Felicity,  
To take a view of those transcendencies  
Heaven was enriched withal, what there his eyes  
Had seen to their ineffable content,  
At his return with what astonishment  
Doth he relate it! Yea, he doth confess,  
Words were too weak his Vision to express:  
The ravishing and beatifical  
Sights, which his eyes had blessed been withal,  
Were not to be portrayed in all their glory  
By th' Pencil of the rarest Oratory.  
The riches that attend Eternity  
Transcend the reach of any mortal eye:  
They are a sphere above the apprehensions  
Of humane understandings or inventions.  
〈◊〉 though height'ned much with industry  
And Grace, their worth and value can't descry.  
Eternal glory to our weaker eyes  
Is an estate veiled o'er with mysteries,  
Much like to pictures, whose rare artifice  
By Curtains from our eyes concealed is.  
The lantern of our shallow intellect  
Us to the knowledge of it can't direct.  
While grace is of so low a stature, we  
Can't look that knowledge should gigantic be.  
None can of Glory have a perfect sight,  
Till they from earth to heaven take their flight:  
The winter of our life must first be past,  
 we the summer fruits of glory taste;  
When saints out of the cage of earth shall fly  
Into the Region of eternity,  
Their ponderous weights of glory they shall find  
To nonplus all conceptions of the mind.  
Till that time come they must contented be  
With the first fruits of that felicity.  
With those sweet crumbs their craving stomaches they  
Must pacify till their ascension day.  
The fuller knowledge of our future state  
Concealed is, our Faith to animate.  
Who dig in Mines where store of Gold doth lie,  
Their hopes of wealth do whet their industry.  
Many Reserves there are in heaven which  
Magnetic are to draw out all the rich  
And orient Graces of the saints, and these  
Warm their endeavours, that are apt to freeze.  
What in the dark remains doth grace excite,  
And screw it up unto a greater height:  
Such a desire of knowledge natural  
Was that ingenious Roman edged withal,  
That while the cause he of Vesuvius  
His flaming Vomits with a vigorous  
Enquiry sought to know, he in the womb  
Of those ejections did himself entomb.  
And how doth this lend Grace a wing to fly,  
And with more vigorous conquest it supply!  
That he, whose eye of Faith most piercing is,  
Can't see the end of his eternal bliss,  
Nor sum up what the interest of his Glory  
Amounts to by the light of sacred story.  
This portion, which our intellects can't see  
To tell out while they veiled and clouded be,  
Is a most rich and rare encouragement,  
Whereby our graces with a stronger bent  
Are carried heaven-ward; this Faith inflames,  
And makes our hope rise higher in its aims.  
This plumes a saint, and makes him higher fly  
In contemplation of eternity.    

Faith's Triumph.  

SAINT and not my soul upon a sinner's legs,  
But with all speed relinquish thine own dregs,  
Into the arms of thy dear Saviour fly,  
There only mayst thou find security:  
Endeavour to believe what thou art never  
Able to purchase by thine own endeavour:  
Thy debt acknowledge, and then by and by  
Thy Jesus will the payment justify,  
Confide not in thyself or what thou hast,  
Lest by thyself thou be deceived at last:  
Wouldst thou the precious Grace of Faith acquire?  
Renounce thyself, cast off thine own attire.  
Wouldst thou in purity preserve thy Faith?  
Condemn thyself, heed not what Reason saith:  
Do misty clouds obscure and dim thy sight?  
Faith will dispel them by its radiant light.  
Is Heaven gate fast up against thee blocked?  
The Key of Faith will open and unlocked:  
Is there in Heaven's highway a roaring Lion?  
Faith will o'er com't and lead thee unto Zion.  
Doth fear surprise thee? Faith will courage bring:  
Doth Death affright thee? Faith pulls out the sting.  
Is't hard and difficult to gain the crown?  
Faith bearest away with honour and renown.  
Be faithful to the death and thou shalt ha●●  
An heavenly garland, though an earthly g●●ve.  
It shall not be to thee (the Scripture saith)  
According to thy works but to thy faith:  
If before Faith good works can't work salvation,  
After Repentance bad ones  damnation.  
As he that crowns thy good works doth thereby  
Crown his own gifts, so doth he magnify  
His own free Grace, that pardoneth thine evil  
Works, which enslaved thee unto the Devil;  
Cast anchor here my soul, let nothing   
Remove thee, in thy Faith still persevere.  
And when the waves of thy corruptions beat  
Into thy leaking vessel, and do threat  
Thine utter ruin and eternal bane,  
By true Repentance pump them out again.    
FINIS.