DIVINE POEMS, WRITTEN By THOMAS WASHBOURNE, bachelor in Divinity.  
Omne tulit punctum, qui miscuit utile dulci.  
A Verse may find him, who a Sermon flies,  
And turn delight into a Sacrifice.  Herbert's Church Porch. 
LONDON, Printed for Humphrey Moseley, at the Prince's Arms in S. Paul's churchyard. 1654.   

TO THE READER.  
NOt any itching ambition to be in print (Though a very catching Disease of the time) but a zealous affection to be doing some good (though by weak means) hath inclined the author to the publication of these Papers, in hopes that the reading of them may make some pious impressions on thy soul, as the writing of them did in his. He is no pretender to extraordinary Gifts of the Spirit, as too many are, who have very little or no evidence to commend or approve them to others: whatsoever high conceits they may have of themselves; yet he is modestly confident that as these his Meditations now running in Verse, streamed for the most part from the Sanctuary, the Fountain of the Sacred Scriptures, so in some measure they derive a tincture from those holy Waters; which though they may not relish well with the captious critic, or the sullen Cinnick, to whom they are not intended, yet he believes they will not displease the Charitable and conscientious Christian; presuming that thou art such, he is bold to present them to thy view in print, and thee to God in prayer, desiring thee to esteem of him no otherwise then of thy Servant in Christ,  
TH. WASH.   

To the Right honourable, My ever Honoured Lady, The LADY VERE.  
Madam,  

SOme of these Papers coming to your view,  
Received encouragement from you,  
You first commended them unto the Press,  
And therefore I could do no less  
Than give them these commands,  
First that they kiss your hands,  
Then at your honour's feet let them fall low,  
Confessing they their being to you owe.   

Nor is this all, but let them further-say,  
I owe you more, and more would pay  
If I knew how; yet 'tis my hopes you will  
Take this in part of the whole bill.  
As patient Creditors use  
Those Debtors, who their dues  
Acknowledge, and by fair entreaty win  
A longer day to pay their money in.    

To His Ever honoured MOTHER, The UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD  
LEt Poets pray the Gods their wit t' inspire,  
My holy Flames are kindled by thy fire,  
My Muse drinks at thy Fountain, thou alone  
To me Parnassus art and Helicon;  
And though that some would damn up all thy streams,  
And with their new lights put out thy old beams,  
Yet I shall pray, and hope Heaven will me hear,  
That thy light still may shine, thy Spring run clear▪  
I tender thee this slender offering,  
Wishing that I a better had to bring;  
But what it wants either of wit or Art,  
To make it up, I here present my Heart.   

To his Learned, Pious Friend, the author.  

MOst do but sin in Verse, and pale sheets dress  
Fitter to clothe their penance, than the Press,  
And all their vain▪ though most advanced rhymes,  
Are but soft mischiefs, and ingenuous Crimes.  
For to write well●where it is ill to write,  
Is to transgress a Poem, nor indite.   

Loose fancies frenzies are, and our fond lays  
Require more wreaths of Hellebore than bays,  
But from thy guided choice thy Poem is,  
Not thy distemper, but thy Artifice.  
Thy numbers are thy Zeal, yet not thy fit  
This is not to impart, but hallow wit.   
MARTIN Llevellin M.D.   

On the Author.  
THe Muses met to find a way (though late)  
Their servants trespasses to expiate,  
And make amends for the wit vainly spent,  
On many an ungracious Argument.  
Urania said, I have a man of worth,  
Whose Verse is holy, he shall put it forth.  
C. B.   

To the READER of my Dearly Loved, because truly Pious Friend, Mr. T. W.'s RELIGIOUS POEMS.  
DRaw near, but draw devoutly, for you may  
Better keep hence, then come and be away;  
And yet approach still, though thy soul brings none,  
That it may carry hence Devotion.  
Expect, if thou be such, some loose sin here,  
That so thou Mayst be caught at unaware:  
So Heathens, when to Christian slaughter they  
With Pagan hate flocked only to annoy,  
Did return Converts, and there learned to do  
What they saw done, hope, confess, and die too.  
He that came Snake, and S●rpent, sting and hiss,  
Did return man; for there he left all these;  
He that did come, and but in part a man,  
Went back a whole, and entire Christian.  
He that was got so far would still go on,  
And by God's faith reach up to God's own Son;  
Serpent too much, and man too little; I  
And Christian too; he would be saint and die.  
B●the in these Zion streams, that even thou here  
mayst be a Star, a Sun i' th' upper Sphere;  
This is the way to b●th, way and end, this  
Will infuse P●ety, and that assure bliss;  
This will that Serpent of thy heart unskin,  
And to thy false brow add a Man within,  
Make thee love God and man; unlike him, who  
'Cause he can't hit God, sh●ots his image through;  
This will first teach thee to escape his hell,  
And then-convey thee whence that serpent fell.  
Till thus thou lov'st and loath'st, it is not safe  
To tell thee all the holiness of each leaf.  
For what to cock is Jewel, Pearl to sow?  
His chaff, her husks, are Pearl and Jewel too.  
Here is no chaff no● husks; the Prodigal  
May hither come, and find it good corn all;  
Come hither they, who the vain Poets prize  
For their unsensed verbal hyperboles;  
Can they express beyond a heaven? Here  
You have that only, and what came from there;  
Make they a God, and then by him rehearse?  
The God that made this man, fills all his verse.  
Does a fair Virgin teach them to indite?  
Faith is his Lady, by whose beams to write;  
Her and her God he loves, more than all they  
Can by their false Gods to their false loves say.  
Expect no fond invokings; We confess,  
There is no Genius besides holiness.  
Were this left out, had he another theme,  
Child's straw, and bubbles, would be all the gem;  
How many, and none, compose and not compose▪  
For without this, 'tis neither rhyme nor Prose;  
Read this man's storms, and that man's fairer weather,  
Compare them both to none, not each to either;  
What get you? but that you can only tell  
T●is line's like that, a decasyllable?  
That he was Knight? the gentleman? Their fire  
Tuned not to David's; but Apollo's lyre;  
And that because there is in neither even  
What was in Johnson's self, a close to heaven.  
How many shillings have I thrown away,  
To read in Monteigne his own Prose-essay,  
Mixed with some lay, because but profane song,  
Unspirited with firm religion?  
When I read Finis, this is all I know,  
Both are the same piece, Author and work too;  
His book's his self; when That my hand does carry,  
I grasp both Caesar and his Commentary.  
Why did I give so much, that I might look  
On a French picture, not worth a French cook?  
One Quelque Chose; and you have him; I could eat  
The Author now, and sell him to buy meat.  
Cart●right is Wit throughout, but I read o'er  
More than his four plays, his ●ast pious four;  
And then his several gratitude's unto  
Him, whose head taught him, and purse fed him too;  
Who gave him to buy books, and gave him skill  
In each of them, to choose out Well from Ill;  
The Learned, Pious, Con●●ant Dupp●; h●  
Who was, and is still Reverend in those three;  
Whom these three, voice, and pen, and heart cannot  
(No not Cart●rights own) enough celebrate;  
In these he kept Christ's law, loved God, and then  
His next act was to pay his debt to men,  
He did it here; for this one to him would  
Be Universal, ev'●y neighbourhood,  
Though he out-sobers', out-words, out-wits all,  
Grave Virgil, Horace nice, Salt Martial,  
Yet more than in's (though unprofane) verse, would  
●●rench my soul in his Diviner stood;  
Those Sermons in which he did wind about  
Our passions more than Cicero could do't,  
In which he did out-sense deep Plutarch's skill,  
And taught so well, almost all else taught ill,  
Unless when's Father Duppae 'gan to preach,  
Who us to live, and taught him too to teach.  
Oh, for that Text where he forbade to lie,  
And pressed home truth, in unbound Poetry?  
Where David like, he did instil and charm  
Us to be honest, though to our own harm,  
Charged truths upon us, such as do shine here  
In this small volume, scorned and damned elsewhere;  
O for his Passion-text, that we might buy  
Th'inestimable price at Sixpence fee;  
That we that winepress which at Edom was,  
And Christ's Church trod, might taste from a new press!  
And here we have't i'th' dialogue between  
Christ Angels, and Apostles, of slain sin;  
Jesus is up again, he did not die,  
He but lay down, that death itself might lie.  
Ay, who this book throughout love, Adore here  
As (though all Horace was to Scaliger  
Precious and rich, yet above all the rest  
He did affect his Lydia dialogue best,)  
He who t'ave made That, would give Empire, though  
A world he offer here, he bids too low;  
For as the whole is sacred, and each line,  
Though 'tis not God, yet it is each Divine;  
So here, 'tis not Apostle only who  
Does speak, and Angel, but 'tis Jesus too;  
What would that learning's lover now impart  
To speak with an Apostle heart to heart?  
(For they did not converse, as some of late,  
With face of love, but with a breast of hate)  
What would his inquisition give to hear  
An Angel vocally round him i'th' ●are!  
What would he? nay, what would he not bestow?  
A world! almost another Jesus too,  
To hear his own Christ speak, who since sixteen  
Last hundred years, was neither heard nor seen.  
This Copy is the blessed Jesus; and  
The rest do all as one John Baptist stand  
Round about this; before, behind, each where,  
To make that way plain for the Lord t'appear.  
This Copy is the Word, and the rest are  
The Voice and echo of this Character;  
This is the supreme heaven, without this  
Is heaven too, and what's in heaven, bliss.  
But O, when he does joys of heaven tell  
Cheerful, and without dread pains of hell;  
(Whither the Saviour Christ does convey some,  
And whither the Judge Christ does others doom)  
How does he with mixed artifice contrive,  
Either for fear or love, that all should live!  
I dare not name all, left I emulate  
The bulk of his Town, with my swelling Gate,   

APOSTROPHE To the AUTHOR.  
YOu Sir, who study, and sport too, this way  
Whose spare hours heaven, and whose serious day;  
Whose two week Sermons are to others aim;  
Whose whole week-life is to that your own claim.  
Who preach both ways, b'Example and by Rule,  
Whose life's a Sermon, and whose house a School;  
Who your own self do, without hire, supply  
With breath and pattern, this twin Curacy;  
Who make each day the Lords, whilst there are some  
Do grudge him one in seven; who make your home  
To be his pious house, whilst some there are  
Who scarce allow him his own house for prayer;  
You who do read, and meditate, and live  
Scripture, and thereby midst of world's frowns thrive;  
You know, they who on gospel's first word look,  
Learn from that first word, this is all the book.  
They who proceed and search on, find that this  
Is only Scripture, all else writ amiss;  
They who wade further yet, know there's not one  
Word besides this, This is the Word alone.  
And yet though nothing else is Book, but what  
God himself made, the Man not that he wrote;  
Though nothing else be Scripture, but pretence,  
Because if not the same with this, not sense;  
Though nothing else be Word, 'cause Parrots may,  
Without this, talk to as good ends as we;  
Yet as those birds are said to come more near  
To what we speak, than other fowls o'th' air,  
Because they imitate our Cadencies,  
So we do more, speak when w' approach to thee.  
Blessed be the charity then, of your wise choice,  
Not to vex us with an unmattered Noise;  
Since though in hundred sheets of paper, he  
Has silent been, who does not edify.  
Since without this, though Stentor he out roar,  
He hath said less than th' mad bull, or wild Boar;  
Since without this, each other book's a crime;  
It robs my purse, and what's more dear, my time:  
Blessed be your guidance too, that t' all were given,  
Both to discourse, and write, and Print for heaven;  
He that writes next, this is his praise or curse  
He makes the Reader if not better, worse.  
But friend, you often ask why 'tis that I  
Preach to th' next ear, and not to th' distant eye?  
Why 'tis that I wh'ave tasked myself a scheme  
In learnings own behalf, forbear that theme,  
Pray ask no more; how can you wish my heir  
Were come to th' birth, when there's no midwife near?  
Copy 't once more, and tell the brave Lord N.  
Be he Maecenas, and I will write Then.   

HAbes haec, è manu subitaneâ, prope incogitanter effusa, quippe ab eo cujus nulla in instituto pars est, Tibi placere, (qui, cum caeteris Dominantis fortunae ludibriis & insultibus par es, undiquaque similis, et Tibi constans; Soli illius Approbanti Lenocinio irasceres, vir, aliter Pacatiss●mus) sed lectori tuo, voce invitatoriâ prodesse; Ejus interest, non tui, quod Fercula haec, è Promptuario tuoenatantia, ut sitiat ipse, Collaudo; Unum hoc mihi (cujus {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}, Facultatisque, qualiscunque, aut quanullacunque in animo est, Res Angusta Domi Tumulus secundus) Satis est, utrumque (quod est omne) punctum tulisti Tu. Vale hìc, sed è supra Internos, Angelus ipse Tu, diu; Vale supra inter Affines Angelos t●os, Semper, sed Sero.  
July 26 1653. GULIELMUS TOWERS. B. D.   

On the Divine Poems of his friend the AUTHOR.  
SOme say a Poet's born, not made; but I  
Say he's twice born that made this poesy.  
Nature imparted little to his wit,  
'Twas grace which had the greatest hand in it;  
His pen came from the wing of th'holy Dove,  
Dropping no gall, but innocence and Love;  
No scurrilous obscenity to make  
It vendible, and with the Rabble take;  
No tenter stretch'● conceits, no puff-paste strains,  
Which serve not to instruct but wrack men's brains,  
No such as their invention draw from wine  
And reel into a Verse; but all Divine,  
Clear as the beams are of th'inlightned day,  
Smooth as the Galaxy or milky way,  
Pure as Ezekiel's waters, which did glide  
Forth of the Sanctuary on each side;  
Made not to please the palate of the foul  
And carnal man, but to revive the soul  
That humbled is at sight and sense of sin,  
To cheer his spirits, comfort him within;  
To scare bold sinners from their wicked course,  
And win them to a penitent remorse;  
That they who take these Poems up as men,  
May lay them down as Saints made by his pen.  
Thus Ambrose catched an Austin, by his quaint  
Divinity, the Manichee turned Saint.  
E. P.   

The Table.  

THe Accident. 135  
Affliction brings man home 22  
The Ague 134  
Angels our guardians. Psal. 91.11, 12, 18  
The Antipodes 90  
All Saints 110  
The Ascension 107  
The passing Bel 94  
The Blind man. Mark 10.51 49  
God's Bottle. Psal. 56.8, 14  
The heavy burden. Psal. 38.4. 12  
The bush burning. Exod. 3.2. 2  
Care cast on God. 1 Pet. 5.7. 75  
The child and the old man 130  
Christ's second coming compared 89  
Christ calumniated. Matth. 11.19. 46  
Christ's cup. Matth. 26.39. 48  
To Christ Jesus 140  
The Church black, but comely. Cant. 1.5. 29  
The Circulation. Eccles. 12.7. 27  
No continuing City. Heb. 13.14. 71  
The good man's clothing. Job. 29, 14. 8  
The Circumcision 105  
Man complaining without just cause. Lam. 3.39. 32  
Country Disputations 133  
To day hear God's voice, Psal, 95.8 20  
An Apostle a devil John 6.70. 52  
Of Divine Love 8●  
The Dove and Serpent. Matth, 10.16 4●  
The dream 10●  
The drunkard 12●  
God's two dwellings. Isa. 57.15. 3●  
The echo 8●  
Faith and works. Jam. 2.20. 7●  
Fear of falling 1 Cor. 10.12. 6●  
Former favours earnests of future 1 Sam. 17, 37. 7●  
The fountain. Zach. 13. ●. 40  
To Doctor Hammond 122  
The best Harbinger. John 14, 2. 56  
The good harvest 101  
No hiding from God. Gen, 3.8. p. 1.  
The Christians hope not in this life. 1 Cor. 15.19 64  
God's Jewels. Mal. 3.17. 42  
The impartial judgement. Rev, 20.11, 12. 76  
The Inquisition. Zeph. 1.12. 39  
To his kinsman Sir E. B. 118  
To the Lady M. C. 125  
To the Lady M. T. 120  
To the Lady P. 121  
To the Lady R. 119  
The 'larum 95  
Against going to Law for trifles 127  
Much in a little. Psal, 37.16. 11  
The three lives of a Christian. Gal. 2.20. 67  
To the malic●ous man 128  
What is man? Psal. 8: 4. 10  
To one that married a rich, but most unhandsome woman. 131  
The Mystical marriage 34  
To his Cousin Mistress M.B. 123  
Themist 126  
No●e but God. Psal. 73.25. 15  
Paul, Paradox, 2 Cor. 12.10. 66  
Passion without Reason. Jonah 4.1. 36  
The Pastoral 84  
The path of the just. Prov. 4.18. 23  
Christ persecuted in his members. Act 9.4.5 58  
Peter's prayer Luke 5.8. 51  
The power of Prayer. Exod. 32.10. 3  
Lay men's preaching 98  
Upon Doctor Prideaux 116  
A Poem of Grotius translated 111  
Two of Boethius translated 114, 11●  
The Race. Phil. 3.13, 14. 69  
The Resurrection 206  
The Rock. Numb. 20.11. 4  
Scylla and Garybdis 96  
Secret things belong to God. Deut. 29.29. 6  
The holy separatist. Psal. 4.3. 9  
The Snake in the garden 81  
Snow in May. 138  
Treasures only in heaven, Matth. 6.19 20. 43  
The Temple of the holy Ghost. 1 Cor. 6.19. 60  
The contrary effects of Tobacco 110  
The toothache 93  
Upon denial of tithes 87  
The Vine wasted. Psal. 80, 12.13. 16  
The way, the truth, and the life. Joh. 14, 6. 57  
The wind and sun 102  
The souls wish. 88  
The wounded spirit. Prov. 18.14. 25  
Youths Memento, Eccles. 12.1. 26    
GEN. 3.8. 
And Adam and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God, amongst the Trees of the Garden.  
WHat fancies sin in our first Parents wrought,  
That they a hiding place so quickly sought  
From God's all-seeing Eye? As if that he  
Who formed the eye, were blind and could not see  
Thorough the thickest trees, or darkest shade,  
Which in that Garden he himself had made.  
Such simple fools are their posterity,  
Who seek out places of obscurity  
To sin unseen, and mask themselves all over,  
That God should not their wicked deeds discover;  
As though that they from him themselves could shroud,  
Like Juno from Ixion in a cloud.  
Or like the woodcock hide their heads, and then,  
'Cause they see none, think none sees them again.  
Be not deceived, a double folly lies,  
In sinning first, then hoodwinking Gods eyes.  
All's one to him, the darkness and the light,  
The night as clear as day is in his fight.  
Think not by putting of a candle out,  
Or drawing of a curtain round about  
Thy bed, or by fast barring of thy door,  
To shut God out, or make him see no more;  
Thou canst not be invisible to him,  
Who did behold thy substance, every limb  
And member of thy body, ere that they  
Were perfect, and received day by day,  
Their form and fashion; the womb to him was  
Clear as the crystal, or the purest glass▪  
Search the world's closest corners o'er and o'er,  
'Mongst all thou canst not find a place that's more  
Invisible and secret; then reveal  
Thy sin to God, which thou canst not conceal;  
And what thou canst not hide from him, confess:  
So seeing, he'll no● see thy wickedness;  
But with the whitest Robe will cover thee,  
That without fear or shame thou mayst him see.   
EXOD. 3.2. 
And the Angel of the Lord appeared unto him in a flame of fire, out of the midst of a bush; and he looked, and behold the bush burned with fire, and was not consumed.  

Lo, here a sight  
Presented to the eye,  
A Bush on fire flaming bright,  
Yet not consumed, a wondrous mystery.   

The Bush the Church,  
Affliction is the fire,  
Which serves not to destroy, but search  
And try her gold, raising the value higher.   

It gathers dust,  
And ●ullied is with ease,  
Wherefore to rub off all the rust,  
To cast it in this fire God doth please.   

Whence it comes forth,  
Far brighter than before,  
And is advanced much in worth,  
One pound being equal now unto a score.   

This bush that flame  
Could never long withstand,  
Unless the Lord were in the same;  
'tis he that doth uphold it with his hand.   

Whiles he is there,  
And doth his light dispense,  
The heat we need not greatly fear,  
How e'er it may seem grievous to our sense.   

For though we be  
I th'fiery furnace cast,  
Our faith the Son of God may see,  
Preserving of our very hairs from waste,   

Much more he will  
By his almighty arm  
Defend the souls of his Saints still,  
That by this fire they shall sustain no harm.   

For this fire shall,  
Like that which snatched away  
The Prophet once, ●ransport them all  
From this world's sorrows to a world of joy.    
Exod. 32.10. 
Now therefore let me alone, that my wrath may wax hot against them, and that I may consume them.  

WHat a commanding power  
There is in prayer? Which can tower  
As high as heaven, and tie the hands  
Of God himself in bands,  
That he unable is to lose the reins  
To Justice, till released from these chains?   

Samson could break his cords  
As tow, and yet the Lord of Lords  
Who gave that strength to Samson, can  
Not break the cords of man;  
Man makes his maker pray, Let me alone,  
That on this people my wrath may be shown.   

Since then such virtue lies  
In prayer, as will exorcise  
The almighty, and fast bind his arms  
In spiritual magic charms;  
O for another Moses now to pray  
That the like benefit we might enjoy.   

But God's wra●h long hath been  
Against us hot, a sign our sin  
Cries louder than our prayers to God,  
Which makes him use his rod,  
When once our prayers grow more servant, than  
We may expect they'll bind God's hands again.    
Numb. 20.11. 
Moses lift up his hand, and with his rod smote the rock twice, and the water came out abundantly, and the congregation drank.  

WHat wonders this, that there should spring  
Streams from a rock to quench a people's thirst!  
What man alive did ere see such a thing,  
That waters out of stone should burst?  
Yet rather than Israel with drought should die,  
God by a miracle will them supply.   

What wonders this, that from Christ's side,  
Water and blood should run to cleanse our sin▪  
This is that fountain which was opened wide  
To purge all our uncleanness in,  
But this the greater wonder is by far,  
As substances beyond the shadows are.   

Christ is that spiritual rock from whence  
Two Sacraments derived are to us,  
Being the objects of our faith and sense,  
Both receive comfort from them thus,  
Rather than we should faint our Rock turns Vine,  
And stays our thirst with water and with wine.   

But here's another Rock, my heart  
Harder than Adamant, yet by and by,  
If by a greater Moses struck, 'twill part,  
And stream forth tears abundantly.  
Strike then this Rock my God, double the blow,  
That for my sins, my eyes with tears may flow.   

My sins that pierced thy hands, thy feet,  
Thy head, thy heart, and every part of thee,  
And on the cross made life and death to meet,  
Death to thyself, and life to me,  
Thy every fall does save; O happy strife,  
That struck God dead, but raised man to life.    
Deut. 29.29. 
Secret things belong unto the Lord our God, but those things which are revealed belong unto us, and our children for ever, that we may do all the words of this Law.  
THis was good doctrine once, but now  
We not contented are to know  
What God thinks good for to reveal,  
Unless we with Prometheus steal  
Some fire from heaven, or commit  
A rape on Pallas Divine Wit,  
Or pick Jove's lock, and secrets get  
Out of his closest Cabinet.  
We with the Bethshemites dare pry  
Into God's Ark, and cast an eye  
Within the veil, although that we  
Or blind, or dead straight stricken be;  
Such boldness well deserves to have  
No eyes, or else a sudden grave.  
He that would know more than is fit,  
Forfeits his life as well as wit.  
And while he seeks what God hath hidden,  
He eats again the fruit forbidden;  
So striving to be overwise,  
Is justly banished Paradise.  
But if we would know safely more,  
Let's practise what we knew before;  
Not search his secret will into,  
But his revealed let us do;  
'Tis that concerns us most: the way  
To understand is to obey.   
1 Sam. 17.37. 
David said, moreover, The Lord that delivered me out of the paw of the Lion, and out of the paw of the Bear, he will deliver me out of the hand of this Philistin.  

WHy should I doubt God's providence,  
Or fear he'll not protect me in my ways?  
Since he his goodness still to me displays,  
And proves it by experience.  
One day another certifies and saith,  
Each several Mercy doth confirm my faith.   

His former favours earnests are  
Of future; he that saved me from the Bear  
Would not permit the lion me to tear.  
And he that of me took such care,  
As from the lion's paw to set me free,  
Will from this Philistine deliver me.   

Lord, from a fiercer lion thou  
Hast saved me by thine almighty power,  
I mean that lion which sought to devour  
My soul and body. Shall I now  
Suspect that thou who spar'dst me from the devil,  
Wilt let me perish by a lesser evil?   

I am resolved to fear no more  
What man can do, though he Golia be,  
Much less a Bear or lion, though I see  
Him ne'er so much against me roar;  
I have so oft been rescued by thine arm,  
That I believe nothing shall do me harm.    
JOB 29.14. 
I put on righteousness, and it clothed me.  

'TWas sin brought shame into the world, till than  
There was no nakedness 'mongst men;  
And till they put on righteousness, they will  
Though clad in Gold be naked still;  
They may their clothes change every day, yet find,  
That clothes they want, unless they change their mind.   

The newness of the Fashons not enough,  
Nor yet the richness of the stuff,  
To cover the soul's nakedness within,  
Whiles 'tis deformed with deadly sin.  
The gallant without grace for all his brags,  
Is worse attired than truth that goes in rags.   

What matter is't if that his body be  
Adorned with all the bravery  
His wealth can compass, or his wit invent:  
For all this costly ornament,  
If he be destitute of righteousness  
To clothe his soul, he's naked ne'er the less.   

God looks into my inside, and if there  
He see that I do virtue wear,  
And that the habits of my mind are white  
As Innocence, and clear as Light;  
Then he invites me as a proper guest,  
Being thus apparelled to his marriage feast.   

Now Lord, since mine own righteousness will be  
Too short a robe to cover me;  
(For who alas, with so great store is clad,  
But he to borrow may be glad?)  
Do thou some of thine own on me bestow,  
That's long enough for both of us I know.    
Psalm. 4.3. 
But know, the Lord hath set apart him that is godly for himself.  
BEhold an holy Separatist,  
Whose sancti●y doth not consist  
In setting of himself apart,  
Both from the world, and his own heart  
With a keep●back, as if that none  
Must near him come, but stands alone,  
Like the disdainful Pha●isee  
That thinks no man so good as he.  
No, he himself doth most despise,  
And humble is in his own eyes,  
So full of meekness and so mild,  
As is the newly weaned child;  
His faith though firm is lowly built,  
Judging his own, not others guilt;  
This humble minded man God deems,  
So highly of, so well esteems,  
That he divides him from the rest,  
And in him impropriates for the best,  
To his own special use him takes,  
And his select companion makes.  
The godly man most humble is,  
There is no godly man but this.  
Let me cast down myself among  
The ordinary common throng;  
And with Paul make it my belief,  
That I of sinners am the chief.  
In lowliness of mind let me  
Think that all others better be,  
So shall I with the Publican  
Be the more truly Christian,  
And God to his immediate  
Attendance will me separate;  
Thus the most high will not disdain  
To make the lowest one of's train,  
And he that doth himself abase,  
Shall be preferred to highest place,   
Psal. 8.4. 
What is man that thou art mindful of him, or the Son of man that thou visitest him?  

LOrd, what is man that thou  
So mindful art of him? Or what's the Son  
Of man, that thou the highest heaven didst bow  
And to his aid didst run?  
He is not worthy of the least  
Of all thy mercies at the best.   

Man's but a piece of clay  
That's animated by thy heavenly breath,  
And when that breath thou tak'st away,  
he's clay again by death.  
He is not worthy of the least  
Of all thy mercies, at the best.   

Baser than clay is he  
For sin hath made him like the Beasts that perish,  
Though next the Angels he was in degree:  
Yet this beast thou dost cherish.  
He is not worthy of the least  
Of all thy mercies, he's a beast.   

Worse than a beast is Man,  
Who after thine own Image made at first  
Became the devil's son by sin. And can  
A thing be more accursed?  
Yet thou thy greatest mercy haste  
On this accursed creature cast.   

Thou didst thyself abase,  
And put off all thy robes of Majesty,  
Taking his nature to give him thy grace,  
To save his life didst die.  
He is not worthy of the least  
Of all thy mercies, one's a feast.   

Lo man is made now even  
With the blessed Angels, yea superior far,  
Since Christ sat down at God's right hand in heaven,  
And God and man one are.  
Thus all thy mercy's man inherits,  
Though not the least of them he merits.    
Psalm 37.16. 
A little that a righteous man hath, is better than great riches of the ungodly.  
THe wicked rips Earth's bowels up to find  
Treasures to fill his mind;  
Lays heaps on heaps, and riches gets great store;  
For all that he is poor,  
Because he carries that about him which  
Forbids him to be rich;  
A greedy mind that ne'er can be content,  
With that which God hath sent.  
But by ungodly ways graspeth more gold  
Then's hand or house will hold.  
And what he thus hath got with care and pain  
He fears to lose again;  
His conscience on the wrack is all the while,  
It will not let him smile.  
Or merry be, since many a bitter curse  
Helps to fill up his purse.  
And what by fraud or force he compasseth  
Shall vanish with his breath.  
Or if unto his heir his wealth descends,  
He lavishly it spends;  
Consuming that in few years which was not  
In less than an age got,  
Thus goods ill gathered many times we see  
The owner's ruin be.  
But the condition of the godly's such,  
In little he hath much.  
And though that his poss●ssions be but small,  
Yet his content is all.  
He is as rich as Crassus, though but poor  
'Cause he desires no more.  
If to his mind his state he cannot fit,  
He frames his mind to it;  
And dines as well upon a piece of bread,  
As if on dainties fed.  
As merry when he water drinks his fill,  
As those that wine do swil;  
As warm in poor John Baptists Camels hair  
As those that scarlet wear;  
His conscience clear from sin in peace doth rest  
And that's his daily feast.  
Thus he being rich i'th' midst of poverty,  
Nor fears nor longs to die.   
Psalm 38.4. 
My iniquities are gone over my head, as an heavy burden, they are too heavy for me.  

NO leprosy can be compared to sin,  
It doth so spread  
Without, within.  
'Tis at my heart, and 'tis gone o'er my head,  
No part is free from top to toe,  
'Tis here, 'tis there, above, below.   

Nor doth it only spread through every part,  
'Tis heavy too  
And on my heart,  
Like lead it lies, so that I cannot do  
The good I would, the weight's so great  
That under it I sink, I sweat.   

Some fools indeed, whose hearts are hard as flint,  
And neck's as steel  
Take pleasure in't,  
And run away with't, yet no burden feel,  
But sport make of it every day,  
And with it as a feather play.   

While they make light thereof, O let me fear  
And it avoid,  
As if it were  
The greatest plague by which man is destroyed,  
The heaviest burden, that will crack  
My heart strings, and even break my back.   

And since I feel it such a ponderous thing,  
A way I find  
That ease will bring,  
And from this plague, this burden free my mind:  
Upon thy back Lord, let it fall,  
That's strong enough to bear it all.    
PSAL. 56.8. 
Put thou my tears into thy bottle.  

TO value tears I now begin,  
Since thou Lord dost provide,  
A bottle for to put them in  
That none should fall beside;  
One drop will raise a sinner from a swound;  
What pity 'tis to spill them on the ground?   

I spill them when I spend them on  
Vain trifles. Worldly losses,  
They are not worthy of a groan,  
Much less a tear. Such crosses  
I rather should rejoice in, since they prove  
The tokens of my heavenly father's love.   

When from the Limbeck of mine eyes  
My tears for sin distil,  
That Aqua vitae thou dost prize,  
And with't thy bottle fill.  
O let my tears for my sins only fall,  
That so thy bottle may preserve them all.   

Then of them, Lord, a Cordial make,  
Against sins poisonous sting,  
Which when my heart with grief doth ache  
May comfort to it bring.  
Last a Collyrium make of them, which may  
Take all the soreness of mine eyes away.    
Psalm 73.35. 
Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire besides thee.  

HAve I not many things in heaven and earth  
Besides thee, that are worth  
The having and desiring? Have I not  
Some friends, some riches got,  
Some honours too, and may increase my store  
Of all these three yet more?  
Excuse me then (my God) if that I pray,  
And covet somewhat else for to enjoy.   

Besides these earthly there are things in heaven  
Which for my use are given;  
The Sun, and Moon and Stars, which do dispense  
Their light, heat, influence;  
Angels and Saints to whom in my distress  
May I not make address?  
Excuse me then (my God) if I repair  
To these sometimes as objects of my prayer.   

Yet when I think a little better on  
these things, I find there's none  
That can compared be to thee; for friends,  
They are for private ends,  
And do me courtesies, because I do  
Courtesies for them too:  
But thou a faithful friend wast unto me  
When by my sins I was thine enemy.   

For Riches, they are subject to decay,  
And quickly fade away.  
Honour's are bubbles, which the breath of men  
Blows in and out again.  
Nor those, nor these any true virtue have,  
Body or soul to save:  
But thou my Riches and my honour's art,  
That savest both, and dost from neither part.   

The Sun, Moon, Stars are goodly creatures, yet  
As they rise, so they s●t;  
The Saints ●riumphant happy Creatures are,  
But ●now not how I fare.  
The Angels glorious, yet but finite, seeing  
They have from thee their being;  
Thou art my Sun which only I adore,  
Who once didst rise from dea●h to set no more.   

Thou art all Saints in one, they have from thee  
Alone their sancti●y;  
Thou art the Angel of the Covenant,  
And wilt not let me wan●;  
Thou mad'st me with thy word, and with thy blood  
Redeem'dst me: none so good,  
So great as thee in earth or heaven abides,  
And therefore I desire none besides.    
Psalm 80.12, 13, 14. 
Why hast thou then broken down her hedge, that all they that go by pluck off her grapes? The wild Boar out of the Wood doth root it up, and the wild Beasts of the field devour it: turn thee again thou God of Hosts, look down from heaven, behold and visit this Vine.  

COme Lord and look how thy poor Vine lies wast,  
Her hedge is broke down every hour,  
And if thou dost not make the greater haste  
The Wild bore will her grapes devour.  
Come Lord, thine aid we crave,  
Come quickly her to save.   

Lord 'tis that Vine which thy right hand hath planted,  
And fenced about for thine own use.  
But she alas too long thy care hath wanted  
And little fruit she doth produce.  
Come Lord thine aid we crave,  
Come quickly her to save.   

Her Sprigs are dry, the holy Sacraments  
Are stopped, or run not free to all;  
Her Watch men disagreeing make her rents  
So wide, she doth to pieces fall.  
Come Lord, thine aid we crave,  
Come quickly her to save.   

Under her shade we did securely rest  
And comfort we did take in it.  
But now we pine away with grief oppressed  
To see her in th' dust to fit.  
Come Lord thine aid we crave,  
Come quickly her to save.   

Our hearts are broke, our Harps unstringed be,  
Our only music's sighs and groans.  
Our Songs are to the tune of Lachrymae,  
W'are fretted all to skin and bones.  
Come, O come Lord Jesus,  
Quickly come and ease us.   

This is the last and worst Age we live in,  
For the most righteous go to wrack;  
Then set an end unto these days of sin  
And misery; thy help we lack.  
Come, O come Lord Jesus;  
Quickly come and ease us.   

Punish the men are settled on their Lees,  
And at our sufferings make a sport;  
But lift the hands up that fall down, the knees  
That feeble are, do thou support.  
Come, O come Lord Jesus,  
Quickly come and ease us.   

Bind up our wounds and pour in oil & wine  
Give Cordials to our heavy hearts,  
Make up the mounds once more about this Vine,  
Repair her breaches on all parts.  
Come, O come Lord Jesus,  
Quickly come and ease us.    
Psalm 91.11, 12. 
He shall give his angel's charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways. They shall bear thee up in their hands left thou dash thy foot against a stone.  

HOw dear to God is man  
That he his mercy should enlarge  
To this poor span,  
And thus to charge  
His Angels to keep every limb  
of him!   

Such are his strict commands  
To them, that they are bound to bear  
Him in their hands  
Secure from fear,  
Of dashing but his foot upon  
a stone.   

If they so careful are  
To keep his foot from hurt, they have  
Much greater care  
His soul to save,  
And it int' Abraham's bosom they  
convey.   

Did we poor Creatures know  
How much unto their watchfulness  
And care we owe;  
We would express  
Our thanks to God, and his name praise  
Always:   

For highly honouring us  
With this rare privilege to be  
Attended thus  
By Angels, he  
The greater makes to serve the less;  
O bless   

The Lord for this, and pay  
To these pure spirits reverence due,  
That so they may  
Ne'er forsake you,  
Do no vile action which may these  
displease,   

Or cause them to retard  
Their wonted aid; each wicked deed  
Raiseth their guard  
In time of need;  
Live so that they may you attend  
to th' end    
Psalm 95.7, 8. 
To day if ye will hear his voice, harden not your hearts.  
A DIALOGUE Between GOD and a SINNER.  Sinner, 
MAy I not this day take my pleasure,  
And hear thy voice, O God at leisure?  
One day will break no square, men say,  
And wilt thou be more strict than they?  
O give me leave now to rejoice,  
And hereafter hear thy voice.  
Thy voice which doth to virtue call  
And to repentance summons all,  
But that I do not love to hear,  
It sounds harsh discords in my ear,  
Whilst I am in my youthful blood;  
When I grow old, it may be good,  
To take thy counsel, and attend  
Thy will when I draw near my end.  
Then 'twill be time enough I trust,  
To be temperate, chaste and just.  
Till than I hope thou wilt dispense  
With my want of innocence,  
With my sports and wickedness.  
I know Lord thou canst do no less  
Than hear my Prayer at the last,  
For thou thy faithful word hast past  
To pardon me when e'er that I  
Shall implore thy clemency.  
The thief upon the Cross did find  
Thy mercy, the same gracious mind  
Thou still retainest, may I not then  
Expect to find the like again?  
I am resolved what ere comes on't  
To hazard even my soul upon'r.  God, 
Bold sinner, do not thou presume  
Upon my Grace; a sweet perfume,  
Or pleasing Sacrifice doth from  
A late repentance seldom come,  
Canst thou believe that tree's ought worth,  
That not till winter fruit brings forth?  
Or wouldst thou be content thy wife  
Should play the harlot all her life,  
And at the last should tender th●e  
Her love and service, when that she  
Through age and sickness over worn  
Is most unfit to serve thy turn!  
Judg then thyself if thou wouldst be  
So served as thou servest me?  
Thou'dst have her to thyself alone  
Before her youth and beauty's gone;  
I must thy love and service have  
When thou art dropping in thy grave.  
When thou art lame or impotent,  
Then thou wilt be a penitent.  
Fool not away thy soul with this  
Presumption, for the high way 'tis  
To hell; a double danger lies  
In such late conformities:  
For that man that doth delay  
To harken to my voice to day,  
Will be to morrow more unfit,  
And have his ear quite deaf to it.  
Each cranny there will be fast barred,  
And his heart will grow so hard  
Through long continuance in sin,  
That not a word can enter in;  
Although I call and call again,  
He is still deaf, 'tis all in vain,  
Besides, should he knock at my door  
When he is dying, not before,  
He shall perceive it then too late,  
Fast locked will be my Mercy Gate,  
Because my Justice will not bear  
That I should his Petition hear,  
Who would not hear my voice at all,  
Albeit I did him often call.  
O then take heed, do not delay  
The hearing of my voice a day.  
The thief o'th' cross no pattern is  
For thy deferred repentance: his  
Was extraordinary, thou  
Oughtst not to look for the like now.  
When Christ is crucified once more  
Presume upon it, not before.   
Psalm 119.67. 
Before I was afflicted I went astray, but now have I kept thy word.  

MAn like a silly sheep doth often stray,  
Not knowing of his way.  
Blind Deserts and the wilderness of Sin  
He daily travels in;  
There's nothing will reduce him sooner than  
Afflictions, to his pen.  
He wanders in the Sunshine, but in rain  
And stormy weather hastens home again.   

Thou the great Shepherd of my soul, O keep  
Me thy unworthy sheep  
From gadding: or if fair means will not do it  
Let soul then bring me to it.  
Rather than I should perish in my error,  
Lord bring me back with terror;  
Better I be chastized with thy rod  
And shepherd's staff, then stray from thee my God.   

Though for the present stripes do grieve me fore.  
At last they profit more,  
And make me to observe thy word, which I  
Neglected formerly,  
Let me come home rather by weeping cross;  
Then still be at a loss.  
For health I'd rather take a bitter pil.  
Then eating sweetmeats to be always ill.    
Prov. 4.18. 
The path of the Just is as the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day.  

THe just man's life's the path to heaven,  
Though narrow, yet 'tis even,  
No dark nor obscure way,  
But shining bright as is the day;  
And as the day's each minute brighter, so  
He step by step doth to perfection go.   

No violent motion 'tis, but creeps  
A gentle pace, and peeps  
Like break of day, a light  
That's checkered betwixt black and white,  
Till it increasing more and more appear  
A perfect day within the Hemisphere.   

The man new started from his sins  
When he his race begins,  
Just so much light he hath  
To show him that there is a path  
Which leads to heaven, though scarce enough to guide  
His feet from slipping sometimes on each side.   

A little now, a little then  
As he Christ cured saw' men  
Walking at first like trees,  
So doth the righteous by degrees,  
Each cross he meets at first seems more than man,  
A giant in his way to Canaan.   

But as his light, his courage grows,  
And then away he throws  
His fears, takes heart of Grace,  
And boldly looks the world i'th' face,  
Bids do its worst, and what before did seem  
A Monster, now a Pigmy he doth deem.   

Vice in his Native colours he  
Sees and hates perfectly;  
virtue's the thing alone  
That he makes his companion;  
Adding of grace to grace till that his Sun  
To the Meridian of his day hath run,   

And then like Joshuah's fixed stands  
To do all God's commands,  
Nor shall it ere go down  
But glory shall his grace's crown,  
And make one constant day that knows no night,  
Nor lessening nor augmenting of his light.   

Lord, let thy grace about me shine,  
That I may not decline,  
The path which leads to thee,  
And may it still increasing be  
Till grace and glory shall unite their rays  
Into one perfect light that ne'er decays.    
Prov. 18.14. 
A wounded spirit who can bear?  

IS't possible? who will believe  
A spirit can wounded be and grieve?  
What hath nobody needs no blows to fear:  
Yet 'tis most true,  
God's word tells you,  
A wounded spirit who can bear?   

One thing there is a soul will wound  
So deeply, that 'twill bleed and swoon,  
And even die for grief, for shame, for fear.  
Sin is the thing  
Doth all this bring.  
A wounded spirit who can bear?   

Sin's a two edged sword which slays  
The soul of man a thousand ways:  
It killed the devil though he a Spirit were,  
For dead he is  
To Grace, to bliss.  
A wounded spirit who can bear?   

That man whose conscience within  
Is galled with a crying sin,  
How much it wracks him, how it doth him tear  
No tongue can tell,  
'Tis worse than hell.  
A wounded spirit who can bear?   

Since than it so torments the mind,  
O Lord let me this favour find,  
Prevent me with thy grace whiles I live here  
That I may be  
From great sins free,  
An innocent spirit let me bear.   

Or if that favour be too high,  
Yet this I pray thee not deny;  
That sovereign balsam, though it cost thee deer,  
Thy blood I mean,  
To wash me clean,  
A cleansed spirit I can bear.    
Eccles. 12.1. 
Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth.  
KInd is that piety which doth begin  
In youth: e'er 'tis accustomed unto sin  
The mind white paper is, and will admit  
Of any Lesson you will write in it.  
What's then imprinted there doth firmly stand  
Not to be blotted out by any hand.  
But when that vice hath first took up the place,  
'Twill be a double labour; one to raze  
Out that which long hath got possession,  
Another for to make a new impression;  
And a much harder task you will it find  
To root out vice, than virtue plant i'th'mind;  
To cast one devil out is greater pain,  
Then two good Angels there to entertain,  
To keep a Vessel sweet is not so much,  
As when once soured 'tis to make it such  
And look at first how it hath seasoned bl●,  
It will retain that odour still therein,  
He that ne'er thinks on God till he is old,  
Grey headed, and his blood froze up with cold.  
Wrack with Diseases, one foot in the grave,  
Whom all the Art of physic cannot save,  
A college of Physicians not reprieve,  
Or keep his carcase scarce a day alive;  
O what a business it will be to climb  
To heaven by penitence, when there's no time,  
Nor means for him to do it in! but he  
By virtue of his faith, not works, must be  
Rapt thither in an instant, as if heaven  
Would be to him at the first asking given.  
But man remember thy Creator now  
Whiles God both time and means doth thee allow▪  
Trust not thy soul upon a broken reed,  
Faith without works will stand in little steed:  
When thy first days and best in sin are past,  
Think not God will accept thy worst and last.   
Eccles. 12.7. 
Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was, and the Spirit shall return to God that gave it.  
OUr famous Harvey hath made good  
The circulation of the blood,  
And what was paradox; we know  
To be a demonstration now.  
The like in bodies doth befall  
Civil as well as Natural.  
Such revolutions in them found,  
That they are always turning round,  
We knew a kingdom which of late  
Converted was into a State;  
And from the hands of many men,  
That State devolved to one again.  
We know that wealth, which now doth flow  
I'th' City veins did lately grow  
I'th' Country furrows, and the same  
Soon runs to th' place from whence it came.  
We know our bodies frame of dust  
At first created was, and must  
Crumble to dust ere long; we see  
Not one from Dissolution free.  
We know, or (what's equivalent)  
Believe our souls, which God first sent  
To make our bodies move and live,  
Shall go to him who them did give;  
When once their Maker them commands,  
They straight return into his hands,  
Thus we see almost every thing  
Circling about as in a ring.  
The winter season of the year,  
Is now turned Summer everywhere.  
This summer will to winter turn,  
And that freeze, which before did burn.  
Rivers which borrow from the main  
Their streams, do pay them back again.  
Since nothing under heaven hath rest,  
But floating up and down, 'tis best  
To look above, and fix mine eyes  
Where not the shadow of change lies:  
No variations there, but all  
Stand still in state pacifical.  
Go then my Dust to Dust, but thou my soul  
Return unto thy Rest above the Pole.   
Cant. 1.5. 
I am black but comely, O ye Daughters of Jerusalem.  
A DIALOGUE Between the CHURCH and her DAUGHTERS  Daught. 

YOu were our Mother once, most bright and fair  
Admired and loved by every eye,  
No earthly beauty could with you compare;  
But now y'are of another dye.   

We ne'er beheld a Moor more black than you  
Are by this unexpected change,  
We hardly can believe it to be true,  
The sight so uncouth is and strange.   

You are become a widow desolate,  
You have no Suitors as before.  
We are ashamed to own you, since of late  
Most men have cast you out of door.   Church, 

Despise me not, although that black I am,  
The reason you shall understand;  
From an extreme hot Country late I came,  
From that Egyptian sunburnt Land.   

There I was scorched, and lost my beauty there,  
By lying long amongst the Pots  
And Brick-kilns, heavy burdens I did bear;  
Thus I contracted all my spots.   

Yet be not you ashamed of me, for I,  
Though black without, am fair within;  
My soul is purged from impurity,  
And grace hath now excluded sin.   

It was the plot of my Beloved, who  
Seeing me proud, and wanton grow  
Of my unparalleled beauty, served me so;  
To keep me up he brought me low.   

He took away the lustre of my face,  
But gave another to my mind;  
And now I do account it no disgrace,  
Since this the better far I find.   

'Tis not the fairness of the face, but soul,  
Which doth invite my Lord to love:  
If he perceive the inward parts be foul,  
The outward not at all him move.   

No matter though I black to others seem,  
whilst I am comely in his eyes;  
If he me worthy of his love esteem,  
I care not who doth me despise.   

When he shall find it fit to wash off all  
My black, and outward grace restore,  
Like the Sun after an Eclipse, I shall  
Shine brighter than I did before.    
Isaiah 57.15. 
Thus saith the High and Lofty one that inhabiteth Eternity, whose name is Holy, I dwell in the high and holy place, with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit:  

LOrd, thou hast told us that there be  
Two dwellings which belong to thee,  
And those two (that's the wonder)  
Are far asunder.   

The one the highest heaven is,  
The mansions of eternal bliss;  
The other's the contrite  
And humble spirit.   

Not like the Princes of the earth,  
Who think it much below their birth  
To come within the door  
Of people poor.   

No, such is thy humility,  
That though thy dwelling be on high,  
Thou dost thyself abase  
To th' lowest place.   

Where ere thou seest a sinful soul  
Deploring his offences foul,  
To him thou wilt descend,  
And be his friend.   

Thou wilt come in, and with' him sup,  
And from a low state raise him up,  
Till thou hast made him eat  
Blessed Angels me●●.   

Thus thou wilt him with honour crown  
Who in himself is first cast down,  
And humbled for his sins,  
That thy love wins.   

Though heaven be high, the gate is low,  
And he that comes in there must bow:  
The lofty looks shall ne'er  
Have entrance there.   

O God since thou delightest to rest  
In the humble contrite breast,  
First make me so to be,  
Then dwell with me.    
Lam. 3.39. 
Wherefore doth a living man complain? a man for the punishment of his sins.  

WHy doth a living man complain,  
When for his sins he punished is?  
Since his complaint is all in vain  
And he no ease obtains by this,  
But rather adds new torments to the sore,  
And by impatience makes his sufferings more.   

So have I seen i'th' fowler's gin,  
A bird by striving out to get,  
The faster hath entangled been,  
And ne'er could scape out of the net.  
Were he a while but quiet, he might spy  
Perhaps some hole or other through to fly.   

But man of all things hath least cause  
To murmur or complain at all,  
Since by oft breaking of God's laws  
He justly in this toil doth fall.  
For sin and suffering are correlatives,  
A Malefactor well deserves his gyves.   

A mercy 'tis that he yet lives,  
And hopes a pardon he may have,  
Not so much favour the Law gives,  
It's the lawgivers part to save.  
He ought not to complain, but to be glad,  
While he's alive and pardon may be had.   

When thou chastizest me, O Lord,  
And for my sin dost make me smart,  
I'll not return an angry word,  
But take it from thee in good part;  
Since thou exactest of me less than I  
Deserved have for mine iniquity.    
Hosea 2.19. 
I will betrothe thee unto me for ever, yea, I will betrothe thee unto me in Righteousness, and in judgement, and in loving kindness, and in tender mercies:  

LEt all Records be searched o'er and o'er,  
Such an unequal marriage as this  
Was never seen or heard before,  
Where heaven and earth, God and man kiss,  
Where Majesty and misery do meet,  
Power and infirmity each other greet.   

Thou art the King of Glory, Lord of life,  
Thy Spouse at best a Creature poor; but since  
Her fall deformed, and no fit wife  
Will make for thee so great a Prince.  
Go court the Angels then; yet they, though bright,  
Are creatures too, and scarce pure in thy sight;   

How much less I that on my belly creep,  
And cleave unto the earth, that did begin  
As soon as I was born to weep,  
As soon as I could go to sin,  
When I polluted in my blood did lie  
No eye would pity me but all past by;   

Cast out i'th' open field I was, to th' shame  
And loathing of my person in the day  
That I was born, than my Lord came  
Like the Samaritan that way,  
And took me up; thy mercy did thee move,  
Not my desert, that was thy time of love.   

Nor is thy love fickle as most men's be,  
Who soon grow weary of their former choice,  
When they a greater beauty see,  
But thou with me wilt still rejoice.  
Thou hast betrothed me to thyself for ever,  
And if I leave thee not, wilt leave me never.   

Thou that didst love me when I nothing had  
That lovely was, endue me with thy grace;  
For with that wedding garment clad,  
Thou wilt no blemish in my face  
Or any other part of me espy,  
But I shall always seem fair in thine eye.   

And that my love to thee may never fail,  
No more than thine to me, open mine eyes,  
And then thy glorious face unveil  
That above all I may thee prize,  
Believing I the greatest bliss obtain,  
When thou lov'st me, and I love thee again.    
Jonah 4 
Upon Ionas his anger at God's sparing of Niniveh, and destroying the Gourd.  
ARt angry Jonah 'cause God gracious is  
And merciful to Niniveh? is this  
Thy charity, that thou hast rather see  
Thousands of people perish, then to be  
Deemed a false Prophet? wouldst thou have thy Lord  
Deny himself to justify thy word?  
Not spare the Penitent, since thou hast said,  
Yet forty days and Niniveh's destroyed?  
Not so; forbear thy passion, curb thine ire,  
Let God be true, and every man a liar.  
It cruelty, not Justice were, if them  
Who have repented once God should condemn.  
God is as just as merciful when he  
Forgives the sinner his iniquity  
Upon his true Conversion. Nor may we  
Think God is mutable in his decree,  
But man the Changeling is, 'tis his contrition  
That makes him capable of God's remission.  
The judgement thou denouncedst did suppose  
This tacit limitation, if that those  
'Gainst whom 'twas past, continued obstinate  
Without returning from their wicked state.  
But they repenting God, revokes his doom,  
And th' objects of his pity they become;  
Yet thou art angry still, and needs wilt die,  
Before that God shall show his clemency  
On them, whiles thou art guilty of the same  
For which thou dost thy God so boldly blame,  
Thou but a mortal man dost pity take  
Upon a gourd which God made for thy sake;  
And shall not the immortal God have pity  
On Niniveh, that is so great a City?  
A City he for his own glory made,  
And must that City perish whiles thy shade  
Remains untouched? This gourd no fruit doth bear,  
Yet flourish must, whiles men for whose use were  
All things created, must dest●oyed be,  
Only to please thy froward fantasy;  
This gourd, because thy covering, thou wouldst spare  
Though it grew up without thy cost and care;  
But Niniveh must down, which God did frame,  
And to that height of honour brought the same,  
That 'tis th' imperial City of the East,  
Within whose walls resteth both man and beast;  
It is a shade to thousand●, yet must down,  
Or else thy Lord shall now incur thy frown,  
This gourd came up and vanished in a night,  
Yet such thy love's to it, and such thy spite  
To Niniveh, that though it was not built  
In many ages, must in one be spilled,  
Yea, thou wouldst have one hour to deface  
And ruinate this stately towering place  
Of three days' journey, th'wonder of the world,  
Into a strange confused Chaos hurled.  
O Lord, how far thy thoughts above man's are,  
Thy ways 'bove his! twixt them there's no compare.  
Man's mercies cruel be, if weighed with thine;  
Thy judgements, mercies be, mercies divine  
And infinite. Such vast and mighty odds  
There is twixt our affections and Gods;  
If he were not more merciful than we,  
One of a thousand would not saved be;  
Whom God thinks fit to spare, we damn to hell,  
And think in doing so that we do well:  
All that dissent from us we curse and ban,  
As if they were worse than a Publican.  
Cease, cease rash man, who dust and ashes art,  
To contradict thy Maker, and to thwart  
His righteous judgements, which are so profound  
A deep, that thy short line can never sound  
The bottom of them; thou mayst in thy span  
As soon contain the Earth and Ocean,  
As comprehend them in thy shallow brain;  
The thought's blasphemous as th'attempt is vain.  
Seek not above thy reasons reach t'aspire,  
And what thou canst not comprehend admire.  
Submit thy judgement unto Gods, so shall  
Thy feet stand firmly, whereas others fall;  
Thou shalt like th' Israelites, walk on dry ground  
Whiles others like the Egyptians are drowned  
In the red sea of their own censures; so  
By judging others, they themselves judge too.  
Do not conceit thy faith to be the less  
'Cause it abounds in charitableness;  
Without all question his faith is the best,  
Whose charity flames highest in his breast;  
And his religion is most Christian,  
That saves a world rather than damns a man.  
Let then God mercy show to Niniveh,  
I will not with the Prophet angry be;  
But wish to all the same repentant mind,  
And pray they may the like forgiveness find.   
Zeph. 1.12. 
It shall come to pass at that time, that I will search Jerusalem with Candles, and punish the men, &c.  
WHen God shall inquisition make  
For sin, What man can choose but quake?  
No place he hath his head to hide,  
Lu●ke where he will, he'll be espied.  
But why with candles will God look,  
As if some corner or close nook  
Of his Jerusalem could be  
(Without their light)' from his sight free?  
No, he that formed the eye will see  
Through the greatest obscurity.  
Candles are useless, when the day  
Appears, we throw them then away.  
Yea when the Sun begins to shine,  
The brightest 〈◊〉 their light decline.  
God's eyes ten thousand times more bright  
Are then the Suns, and there's no night  
At all to him; by Candles than  
He speaks to th' common sense of men,  
Letting them know, that as when we  
Intend to make a scrutiny,  
And strictly search for some rare thing  
That's lost, Jewel or Diamond Ring;  
We candles light, and poor about  
The house, we pry within, without,  
Leave not a hole unsearched, for fear  
The thing we look for should ●ye there.  
So God to take all ●houghts from us,  
Of scaping his inquiry, thus  
himself expresses; If he search  
Jerusalem so close, his Church;  
What will become of Babylon  
The wicked city, where not one  
Righteous is to be found? That needs  
No inquisition, their ill deeds  
Are so transparent to each eye  
As he that runs may them espy,  
Where crimes are open to the view  
Of all, not s●arch, but plagues are due.  
Lord give me grace for to prevent  
As well the search, as punishment;  
Teach me to cast mine eye within  
My breast, and spy out every sin  
Which there lies hid, that so I may  
(Judging myself before the day)  
Avoid the judgements just which shall  
Upon the wicked heavy fall.   
Zech. 13.1. 
In that day there shall be a fountain opened to the house of David, and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem for sin, and for uncleanness.  

NEver was Lepers body half so foul  
As is the sinner's soul,  
Each power and faculty  
Polluted is, not the least part being free;  
No fuller's soap, nor nitre can.  
Make clean this soiled soul of man,   

But ●o an holy welford is opened wide,  
Which runs from God's own side,  
Whose virtue is so rare,  
That it will make the blackest Aethiop fair;  
In this clear fountain sinners may  
Wash all their spots and st●ins away.   

Open it is to all, to all that be  
Of David's family,  
And of Jerusalem;  
This fountain only opened is to them  
That of the faithful seed are sprung,  
To them of right it doth belong.   

They that are strangers to the Covenant  
And saving faith do want,  
This holy Well disdain,  
As if it no more virtue did contain  
Then Abana and Pharpar, which  
Can hardly cure a scab or itch;   

Much less the spreading leprosy of sin  
Which sticks so close within  
That nought can cleanse the same  
But th' Aqua Vitae which from Christ's side came:  
Go then, my soul, and drink thy fill,  
See, from his heart it doth distil.   

What though thou very poor and wretched art,  
In it thou mayst have part,  
For 'tis the beggar's bath  
As much as 'tis the Kings, and he that hath  
A mind for to be cleansed indeed,  
May use the same as he hath need.    
Mal. 3.17: 
They shall be mine saith the Lord of Hosts, in that day when I make up my Jewels.  

YOu that of godliness do make a mock,  
And those that are religious jeer,  
As if they were your laughing stock;  
Know that ere long God will appear  
To judge this wicked world; and then  
They will be found to be the only men.   

Though now you tread them underneath your feet,  
And no more reckoning of them make  
Then of the dust that's in the street,  
The time shall come when God will take  
Them for his richest Jewels, and  
Prize them, as 'twere the signet on's right hand.   

Yea to your shame and wonder he will raise  
The value of them above all  
That you can think is worthy praise,  
Or whatsoever thou precious call:  
Gold is but dross, Pearls pebbles are  
To what they shall be, there is no compare.   

And how can it be otherwise, when they  
Derive their lustre from his face?  
Not Sol himself shines at midday  
With so illustrious a grace;  
For every grace which they have here,  
Shall be a glory in the highest sphere.   

I care not then how I am vilified,  
Or what the world doth make of me;  
Let men at pleasure me deride,  
So that I may God's Jewel be:  
For though I now am trampled down,  
he'll make me up a diamond in his Crown.    
Matth. 6.19, 20. 
Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break thorough and steal: but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break thorough nor steal.  

GIve o'er your greediness, much-worms give o'er,  
And trade no more;  
For Apes and Peacocks, and such petty toys  
Are not for boys.  
Men that have reason and religion too,  
Scorn so to do;  
They count that voyage to be lost that brings  
No better things.  
For all the treasures of the earth will not  
Make a man happy if they could be got.   

Some think the Indies to the King of Spain  
Bring little gain,  
And that our seventh Henry was more wise  
Them to despise,  
Though offered to him; this we know, that Prince  
Is poorer since;  
And notwithstanding all his golden mines  
He still declines.  
For all those treasures that are fetched from far,  
When home they come are straight consumed in war.   

What private man can then his riches boast?  
He that had most  
Amongst us when our troubles first begun,  
Is now undone;  
And he that since of thousands is possessed,  
Though kept in's chest  
Fast under lock and key, may soon be brought  
Not worth a groat.  
Thus fortunes wheel is turning up and down,  
To day 'twill smile on thee, tomorrow frown.   

Who then of this world's wealth would guilty be,  
Since that we see  
No certainty in riches can be had?  
That man is mad  
Who seeks to hedge the cuckoo in, and stay  
What will away.  
For riches wings unto themselves do make,  
And their flight take,  
Like th' Eeagle towards heaven; none can hold  
Or clip their wings, though they be made of gold.   

Be wise, and lay up treasures that are sure  
And will endure  
In spite of fraud or force. Heavens the place  
The treasures grace.  
When all your temporal estates do perish,  
This still shall flourish.  
How much it doth all earthly goods excel,  
I cannot tell;  
But this I can assure you, there is none  
Can bring it under sequestration.   

Travel by Sea or Land, go where you will,  
'Tis with you still.  
It costs you nought the Portage, nor will make  
Your Back to ache.  
No burden 'tis, but full of ease and joy  
In the convoy.  
Nor Soldier nor Pirate can it force,  
Or make divorce  
twixt you and it. Once fix it in your heart,  
And make much of it, it will ne'er depart;   

But grow from Grace to Grace, and never cease  
For to increase,  
Bringing forth fruits of Piety and Love,  
Making us move,  
Fast towards our centre, Heaven, until our soul  
Knock at the pole  
And enter into that eternal rest  
With all the blessed.  
Society of Saints and Angels, this  
When all is done the only treasure is.    
Matthew 10.16. 
Be ye wise as Serpents, and harmless as doves.  
NExt to the angel's Man created was,  
In knowledge and all parts he did surpass  
The other Creatures; yet is such a fool  
●ecome by sin, that he may go to School  
●o birds and beasts, the little Ant and Bee,  
●oth thrift can teach him and good husbandry:  
the Serpent wisdom, the Dove innocence,  
●hat to avoid, this to give no offence,  
That to prevent dangers before they fall,  
And this not to revenge a wrong at all.  
How far is man to seek in both these kinds,  
He by too sad experience daily finds.  
Into a world of mischiefs he doth run,  
Undoing others, and himself undone.  
Some serpent's craft he hath, but not the love,  
The candour, and the mildness of the Dove;  
That hath took wing long since and fled away,  
Nought but the Serpents sting behind doth stay.  
Malice enough to be revenged, but none  
Of the true wisdom of the beast; that's gone.  
My God, who didst both these at first instil  
In Dove and Serpent; let it be thy will  
T'infuse them both in me, that I may live  
So innocent, as no offence I give  
To others, and so prudent too, that I  
May not to injuries exposed lie.   
Matth. 11.19. 
Behold a man gluttonous, and a win● bibber, a friend of Publicans an● sinners.  

WHy should I think to be  
From calumny or slander free,  
When I see men afford  
No better language to my Lord?  
My Lord though free from sin,  
Free from detraction hath not been:  
If to a feast he come,  
He is a glutton called by some.  
If wine he drink, O than they cry  
He is a drunkard presently;  
If he converse with common people, then  
He's friend to Publicans and sinful men▪   

My God, since thou didst b●ar  
Such vile reproaches, I'll not fear  
The like, nor be ashamed  
By wicked men to be defamed:  
It is the godlies' lot,  
A blessing rather than a blot.  
Their tongue no slander is,  
They kill me when they kiss.  
When they revile, I'm ne'er the worse,  
When they commend me, 'tis a curse.  
Their commendation is a sign that I  
Too much with their ill courses do comply.   

Let them then do their worst,  
And swell with poison till they burst,  
Spit all their venom on me,  
Till they believe they have undone me,  
Cast all the dirt they can  
To make me like them, a bad man;  
It shall not trouble me,  
Since so they served thee.  
My Lord and Master suffered so,  
Why should I Scot-free think to go?  
While thou art witness of my innocence  
I'll take it for a favour, no offence.    
Matth. 26.39. 
O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt.  

LOrd, what a bitter draught this was,  
Which made thee pray  
Thy Father thrice that it might pass  
From thee away?  
'Twas deadly poison filled the glass.   

Thy father's wrath, and our sins were  
Both in one cup,  
Who then could blame thee for to fear  
To drink it up,  
Or pray it might not thee come near?   

Yet such thy love to man was, and  
Thy duty to  
Thy Father, thou wouldst not withstand  
His will, but do  
What e'er it pleased him to command.   

Though it displeasing were to thine  
As flesh and blood,  
Thou saidst, Thy will be done, not mine.  
I think it good  
This cup no longer to decline,   

My God, it is my purpose now  
Sin to detest,  
And never more it room allow  
within my breast,  
Since with't thy cup did overflow.   

But if to me disposed thou art  
Some of the gall  
And bitter potion to impart,  
I'll take it all,  
And pledge my Lord with all my heart,   

And good cause why, since I am sure,  
That on the cross  
Thou drankest the dregs, I may endure  
A gentle dose,  
'Twill not my corr'sive be, but cure.    
Mark 10.51. 
The blind man said unto Jesus, Lord, that I may receive my sight.  

WHat wouldst thou see poor man, that thou wouldst fain  
Receive thy sight again?  
Should Beauty be thy object? That's a fire  
Will kindle loose desire,  
And put thy soul out, making thee in mind  
As in thy body blind.  
I made a Covenant with mine eye, Job said,  
Not once to look on maid.  
If then to gaze on beauty thou delight,  
〈…〉 want thy 〈◊〉.   

What wouldst thou see poor man, that thou wouldst fain  
Receive thy sight again?  
Should Riches be thy Object? they entice  
Unto a baser vice,  
And make thee poorer than thou wast before  
By coveting of more;  
Wishing with Achan for that wedge of gold,  
Thou didst but now behold;  
Or else with Ahab, longing to be Lord  
Of Naboth his Vineyard.  
If then to gaze on riches thou delight,  
Thou'dst better want thy sight.   

What wouldst thou see poor man, that thou wouldst fain  
Receive thy sight again?  
Should Honour be thy object? That's a thing  
No true content can bring,  
But puff thee up with an ambitious rage,  
And to high acts engage,  
With Herod Law and Justice trampling down  
Thereby to gain a Crown;  
Till Icarus his fall become thy fate,  
And thou repent too late;  
If then to gaze on Honour thou delight,  
Thou'dst better want thy sight.   

What woudlst thou see poor man, that thou wouldst fain  
Receive thy sight again?  
Should Jesus be thy Object? He is one  
Worth looking on alone;  
For hadst thou eyes, in's person thou mightest see  
Both God and man to be;  
Humility his majesty did shade,  
When he a man was made;  
Thou couldst not see his face, and live before  
That flesh had veiled him o'er;  
As friend with friend, so thou Mayst with him talk  
As Moses once, and walk   

As Enoch did, but more familiarly,  
Since he's a man like thee  
In all but sin; in him as in a glass  
We see God face to face.  
The Godhead bodily in him doth dwell,  
Of life he is the well,  
The way to heaven, the spring of grace and glory.  
O 'tis too long a story  
To tell thee what he is, so great's his worth  
No pen can set it forth  
Though snatched from angel's wing: well Mayst thou pray  
To see this Star of day,  
This Sun of Righteousness which with his rays  
Produceth endless joys.  
If then to gaze on Jesus thou delight,  
'Twere best to be all sight.  
Pray still that he would give thee the fruition  
Of this thrice happy vision.    
Luke 5.8. 
Lord, depart from me, for I am a sinful man.  

LOrd thou art just, I am a sinful man,  
Thou art as fire, and I as tow, how can  
We meet together, but I needs must be  
Consumed to dust and ashes straight by thee?  
Since I so frail am, thou so furio●s art,  
Have I not cause to pray thee Lord depart?   

Yet thou art merciful as well as just,  
And he from whom thou partest perish must.  
As I do fear thy Justice, so do I  
Thy mercy want to help my misery;  
Have I not then far greater cause to pray  
That thou wouldst not depart, but with me stay?   

My God, in thee both Attributes combine,  
Enough for me if one of them be mine;  
Thus thou whose presence heaven and earth doth still  
Ma●●t go from me, and yet be with me still;  
Whiles I am sinful, Justice get thee gone,  
Mercy, be thou my sole companion.    
John 6.70. 
Have not I chosen you twelve, and one of you is a devil?  
NOt chance, but choice did first Apostles make;  
Christ did not them at all adventures take:  
But as his heavenly wisdom thought most fit,  
For his own purpose, so he ordered it.  
He raised not an army for to fight  
And force religion, but did men invite  
By gentle means; twelve of the simpler sort  
Served to make up his train, a●d kept his court;  
His father could (if so he had been bent)  
Have more than twelve legions of Angels sent  
To wait upon him, but he was inclined  
To put off state, and put on a meek mind;  
That so the world condemned by man's pride  
Might by an humble God be justified.  
These twelve thus chosen were enabled too  
〈…〉 divine all miracles to do,  
All languages to speak, and by his word  
All nations to turn unto the Lord.  
Let the pretenders then unto the Spirit  
P●ove by the like effects, that they inherit  
Th' Apostles preaching office, and we shall  
Obey their voice, and harken to their call;  
But whiles they speak no language but their own,  
Nor any miracles to work are known,  
Yet take upon them the Apostles places  
To teach and preach, though void of all their graces.  
Have we not reason then to think, that they  
Who enter not by th' door, but some back way  
Into the sheepfold, and not called dare  
Intrude thus boldly, no true Shepherds are,  
But wolves, that under a false vizard creep,  
Not to instruct, but to devour the sheep?  
But who would ever have imagined  
One of Christ's college, which had Christ for head  
And founder too, should devil turn, and be  
A traitor to his master? Yet we see  
One of these twelve, that could preach very well,  
And wonders work, his own dear Lord did sell  
For a small matter; thus the best of things  
Corrupted once, the worst contagion brings.  
What place or person can be free from vice  
Which seized on man even in paradise,  
Crept into heaven, and Angels caused to fall,  
Made them and an Apostle devils all?  
To gather Churches then's a vain attempt,  
As if you could have any quite exempt  
From sinful men; when do what e'er you can  
The hypocrite will be the holy man,  
And put as good a face on't as the best:  
Purge ne'er so much your body, there will rest  
Some noxious humours in't, some Judas will  
In spite of you, lie lurking in it still.  
Christ's Church is likened by him to a field  
Which tares and wheat confusedly doth yield,  
And he commandeth us to let both grow  
Together till the harvest, left that now  
By hasty separation, ere the day,  
We not good husbands, but the wild boar's play,  
Rooting up both, whereas they both should stand,  
And wait the weeding of the angel's hand.  
You'll say, by Tares is meant the hypocrite,  
Which cannot be discerned by our sight,  
Being only known to God; and therefore we  
May mix with him in our society;  
Whereas the wicked is so easily known,  
We may and ought shun his communion.  
Why then did Christ into his fellowship  
Take Judas, suffer him to kiss his lip,  
Call him byth' name of friend, nay give him leave  
The holy Sacrament for to receive;  
Although he knew his heart, and all the evil  
He had conceived, which made him up a devil?  
And so no hypocrite to Christ was he:  
What shall we purer than our Saviour be?  
'Tis true, the children's bread should not be cast  
To dogs, yet of the crumbs the dogs may taste;  
And who knows but the tasting of them may  
Turn dogs to Christians ere they go away?  
The Word alone converts a wicked mind,  
Much more the Word and Sacrament combined;  
Both holy be: And if we must for bear,  
To give the Sacrament to some for fear  
Of profanation, Why do we dispense  
The Word to all men without difference?  
Or if we must not give it 'cause it may  
Prove death to some that take it the wrong way;  
The very same may of the Word be said,  
Therefore to preach it we should be afraid  
To mixed Congregations, left that some  
Should worser than they were before become.  
This only so falls out by accident,  
'Tis neither in the Word, nor Sacrament.  
God commonly by them grace on us pours,  
If it prove death, the fault's not theirs, but ours.  
It is the duty then of every one,  
To fit himself for this communion;  
And if the Minister the danger tell  
Of taking it unworthily, 'tis well;  
His own soul he delivers if he do it,  
Upon their peril 'tis that will come to it.  
We wish the Church invested were again  
With power, notorious sinners to restrain,  
And excommunicate them too; till than  
We may reprove, but not correct these men:  
It is our hearts desire, and we pray  
That every one rightly receive it may;  
And that no Judas any more may be  
Admitted to this blessed Society;  
But this is rather to be wished then found  
In this crazed age, where more are sick then sound.  
More traitors than are faithful, twelve to one,  
How can we then make separation?  
For if we will not partial be, but just,  
Scarce one of twelve into our flock we must  
Receive; and then how many little flocks  
Will there be of us, subject to the mocks  
Of all our enemies? and whiles that each  
Intends his own particular, the breach  
Will wider grow i'th' general, and we  
May seek a Church, but still to seek shall be.   
John 14.2. 
I go to prepare a place for you.  

WHat a high favour's this,  
That God should be man's harbinger to bliss?  
When John prepared the way before thy face,  
O Christ, 'twas no small grace   

Unto the Baptist then;  
Much greater dost thou now bestow on men,  
In that thou goest before to make us room  
In heaven against we come.   

Lord, we were not more glad  
At thy first coming, than we should be sad  
At thy departure; didst not thou impart  
This cordial to our heart,   

Cheering our spirits thus,  
That thou possession tak'st of heaven for us;  
Thou in our flesh hast entered there, and we  
By virtue thereof be   

Assured of our places,  
As soon as ever we have run our races;  
With all the Patriarchs we shall sit down  
And there receive our Crown,   

It is then fit and just  
That we should think of shaking off our dust,  
And laying down our earthly Tabernacles,  
Which are to us as shackles,   

And hinder our soul's flight  
To those blessed Mansions which are ours by right.  
Let us not dream of setting up our rest  
Till w' are of heaven possessed.   

That is our centre, that  
Our country is, our proper place, whereat  
All our endeavours must aim, since we are ne'er  
At home till we come there.   

O thou that art the way,  
And wan●'st the way before us, grant we may  
Follow thy steps so close, that in the end  
We may that place ascend.    
John 14.6. 
I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.  
I Came from heaven to be your guide, and I  
Am he by whom your path to heaven doth lie,  
The steps I trod on earth are th' only right  
Way to those Mansions of most glorious light;  
The doctrine which I taught you is the whole  
Truth, which if followed well, will save your soul,  
And bring you to those joys shall never end,  
The joys to which blessed spirits do ascend;  
Life without death, to that your hopes must tend.   
Acts 9.4. 
Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?  

NEver was union seen  
So strict as that between  
Christ and his members; though in hevaen he be,  
And we on earth, yet see  
We cannot suffer here, but straight he cries  
And feels our miseries,  
As if they were his own:  
So well to him th' are known,  
That what e'er persecutions we sustain,  
He hath the greatest share, and will complain.   

Talk not what virtue lies  
In secret sympathies,  
As that between the loadstone and the steel  
Which do at distance feel  
Each others' force, and by an innate love  
This unto that will move,  
Or that betwixt the wound  
And Talbot powder found;  
Or of that sensitive plant, whose virtue's such,  
That it contracts itself at every touch.   

All these, though very rare,  
Secrets in nature are;  
But grace a stronger sympathy doth make  
twixt Christ and us: we take  
New life from him, as he took flesh from us.  
We now are one; and thus  
Our wounds are his, our smart  
Grives him unto the heart;  
Who touch us, touch the apple of his eye,  
A tender part, how can he choose but cry?   

You then that persecute  
And all your arrows shoot  
Against the truly Christian, know that you  
One day shall dearly rue  
And pay for this your spite, your arrows all  
On your own head shall fall,  
You'll find it hard to kick  
Against the sharpest prick;  
And whiles you aim at man, you shoot far wide,  
Hitting your God thorough your brother's side.   

Why then my soul art thou  
So sad, because that now  
By wicked men thou persecuted art?  
Thy Saviour bears a part,  
And will revenge thy cause against thy foes;  
His hand thy wounds will close,  
As though his own they were,  
No more their malice fear;  
For let them do the worst to thee they can,  
Since that thy fellow suff'rer's God and man.    
1 Cor. 6.19. 
What, know ye not that your body is the Temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, which ye have of God; and ye are not your own?  

LOrd, what an humble God art thou,  
Thus to descend  
And be my friend,  
Yea, more than friend, mine inmate now?   

Dost not enough thyself abase,  
To look on me,  
But I must be  
Thy Temple and thy dwelling place?   

This my vile Body thou dost take,  
And thinkest fit  
To honour it,  
And for thy use a house it make.   

Henceforth I'll prize this house of thine  
At a high rate,  
Being consecrate  
To thee, and count it no more mine.   

Not any part thereof shall be  
An instrument  
To sin, but bent  
In holy ways to wait on thee.   

The windows in't shall be mine eyes  
Through which I'll see  
My God, thou me;  
My tongue shall off●r Sacrifice.   

My lips the Calves which I will pay  
To thee my Lord,  
And every word  
Well weighed I'll on thine Altar lay.   

My Lungs the bellows which shall blow  
The holy fire  
Of my desire,  
Till to a lively flame it grow.   

My Prayer as Incense shall ascend,  
And every room  
In me perfume,  
That no ill savour thee offend.   

My heart shall be the Holocaust,  
My hands shall bring  
An Offering  
And all shall serve the Holy Ghost.    
1 Cor. 10.12. 
Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall.  

LEt none presume he stands so fast,  
But that he may fall first or last:  
The most confirmed in grace,  
Stands in a slippery place:  
He treads on ice, and if he take not care  
Unto his steps, is down e'er he's aware.   

'Tis hard to keep a middle way  
twixt two extremes and never stray,  
Since to the worst, man's mind  
By nature is inclined;  
Each virtue hath two vices on both sides,  
'Tis odds, that into one of them he slides.   

So many snares, so many evils,  
So many doubts, so many devils  
Environ him about,  
That be he ne'er so stout,  
His faith may fail, his feet may slip awry,  
And he soon fall from his integrity,   

David that was so great, so good,  
And highly in God's favour stood,  
In two such sins he fell  
As might have damned him well,  
But that in mercy God pleased to restore  
Him to that state that he was in before.   

Peter though he a pillar were  
Of th' Church, his Master did forswear,  
Such power had fear to make  
His former faith to shake.  
Thus he who stood the day before so strong,  
Was to his grief and shame laid all along.   

I will not be too confident  
Of my fast footing, but content  
My faith and fear should stand  
Together hand in hand,  
That fear may keep my faith from being too bold.  
And faith my fear from losing of its hold.    
1 Cor. 15.19. 
If in this life only we have hopes in Christ, then were we of all men most miserable.  

I were of things the worst  
And most accurst  
If in this life my happiness did end,  
Beasts and Birds me exceed  
In strength in speed,  
The devils me in knowledge far transcend.   

The wicked in sports swim  
Up to the brim,  
The Epicure abounds in carnal pleasure;  
Th' ambitious man is crowned  
With Honours round;  
The Covetous augments his daily Treasure.   

My conscience will not let  
Me Riches get  
As others do, by rapine and deceit;  
Such ways it checks me in  
Saying 'tis sin,  
And warns me of the hook under the bait.   

As sparks do upwards fly  
Even so am I  
To troubles born; at every turn we meet:  
Reproach and i●nomy  
My Honours be;  
My wealth serves but to buy a winding sheet.   

Yet courage take my soul,  
Let faith control  
Thy reason; let it fix thy thoughts elsewhere;  
These worldly things ne'er can  
Make happy man;  
Thy happiness comes from a higher sphere,   

With holy Job then know,  
Though thou art low,  
Thy head's as high as heaven; there lives he  
Who thy Redeemer is,  
And that thy bliss  
In seeing him with these same eyes shall be.   

Worldly delights be gone,  
In him alone  
All wealth, all honour, and all pleasure lies:  
No sorrows then shall rest  
Within my breast,  
His hand shall wipe all tears from my sad eyes.   

His hand my head shall raise,  
And crown with joys,  
Such joys no eye hath seen, nor ear hath heard,  
No tongue of men can tell,  
Nor Angels well,  
Only to feel them shall be my reward.    
2 Cor. 12.10. 
When I am weak, than I am strong.  
WHat Paradox is this, that there should be  
Weakness and strength at the same time in me?  
A Paradox to Nature, not to Grace,  
Where without contradiction both have place;  
When I am weakin body, than I find  
That I am strong i'th' virtues of the mind;  
And when I am brought by affliction low,  
Then I in spiritual comforts high do grow.  
When of myself I cannot go nor stand,  
Yet I supported by God's heavenly hand  
Can safely travel through a world of woe,  
Yea, through the valley of death's shadow go  
And fear no ill; walk through a sea of troubles,  
Yet never sink, counting the waves but bubbles,  
Which my faith blows away; my hope doth sound  
The greatest depths, and even touch the ground;  
When I am ready to be swallowed by  
Death's greedy jaws, faith sets me up on high  
Like Moses on Mount Pisgah, whence I can  
Behold a better Land, of Canaan.  
And enter too, where I with joy shall see  
His glories in a blessed eternity.  
If so much strength to weakness doth belong,  
Lord make me weak that thou Mayst make me strong.   
Gal. 2.20. 
Nevertheless I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved, me and gave his life for me.  

BEhold the privilege of a Christian  
Above another man,  
Both Tenants to one Lord,  
Yet in their Tenures they do not accord:  
One hath two lives in present, and the third  
In future, but confirmed by God's own Word.   

The life of Nature first, the life of Grace  
Takes up the second place,  
The life of Glory last,  
Which comes not till the other two are past.  
The Christian esteems the Natural  
Compared with th' other nothing worth at all.   

The Natural man in present hath but one,  
And in reversion none;  
Yet he doth so depend  
Upon that one, as if it ne'er would end.  
Not once considering how each trivial thing  
Serves to draw on its speedy ruining.   

And as the beasts that perish, so shall ●e  
To dust dissolved be;  
Yea, a worse mischief shall  
After this life this wretched man befall.  
Of his unhappiness it being the least  
That his short breath expireth like the beast.   

For his one life a double death shall have;  
His body in the grave,  
His soul in hell shall lie,  
A second death that's to eternity.  
A miserable man he is indeed,  
Whose single short life two long deaths succeed.   

I will account no more this life of mine  
To be my own, but thine;  
Not I, but thou dost live  
In me, who for me (Lord) thyself didst give.  
It was thy love that made thee die for me,  
It is my faith that makes me live in thee?    
Phil. 3.13, 14. 
I count not myself to have apprehended; but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the Mark, for the prize of the high Calling of God in Christ Jesus.  

THis ilfe is like a race,  
Where every one's a Runner, and the prize  
A Crown of Glory: Heavens the place  
Where the Mark's set before our eyes.   

I who have not as yet  
Scarce run out half the way, must not sit down  
And think I've done enough, but sweat  
And labour hard to get the Crown.   

Nor may I cast an eye  
Behind, to see how many I've out run,  
But with the foremost I must vie  
And better end than I begun,   

For if I fail at last,  
When I have gone the greatest part o'th' Race,  
Or give off when the worst is past,  
It will be much to my disgrace.   

Nor is that all, but then  
Another man shall take my crown from me,  
And I with the faint-hearted men,  
Out of the Lists quite cast shall be,   

O Lord do thou anoint  
Me with thy oil of Grace from top to toe,  
In every limb and every joint,  
That I may never weary grow.   

But persevering in  
My course with vigorous and active strength,  
May be so happy as to win  
The Goal first, and the Crown at length.    
Heb. 13.14. 
Here we have no continuing City, but we seek one to come.  

MAn is a Creature loves society,  
And cannot long alone be well,  
Hence God made Eve that she  
Might with him dwell.   

From these two sprung  
A numerous family,  
That to a City grew ere long,  
And that implied strength and stability.   

But see how soon this City came to nought,  
Being destroyed with its own weight;  
And by division brought  
To ruin straight.   

Then how can we,  
A City have that's strong  
Or permanent? It cannot be  
What's made with hands should ere continue long.   

The best is made with lime and stone, how then  
Can that which is compact of such  
Frail matter last? yet men  
Are frailer much.   

Those men that make  
This City, are all cast  
In moulds of Clay, and do partake  
Of earth themselves: such vessels cannot last.   

Nor they, nor yet their City can endure,  
Many mishaps there be will end them,  
To perish they are sure,  
None can defend them.   

Each little thing  
To pieces breaks their frame,  
A very wind, a breath will bring  
Them to that nothing whence at first they came.   

Yet whiles their worst part crumbles to the dust  
And falls to ashes in their urn,  
Their souls immortal must  
To God return,   

That God hath made  
A City without hands  
For them, which ne'er shall fail nor fade:  
Unmovable its vast foundation stands.   

A most magnificent and glorious place;  
Which they that see 't can scarce set forth,  
Or give it half the grace  
As to its worth.   

There God keeps Court,  
Millions on either side  
Of Saints and Angels do resort  
To wait on him; this City's wondrous wide.   

The least of all those many Mansions ther●  
Our greatest Cities far transcend,  
Each one's a Kingdom which shall ne'er  
Admit of end,   

This then alone  
Requires our chiefest care  
In seeking it, for there is none  
On earth's round ball that can with it compare.   

On this lets fix our thoughts, to this aspire,  
To this let all our actions tend,  
Be it our sole desire  
There to ascend.   

For all our bliss  
God hath reserved above,  
Our happiness there seated is,  
There is our Treasure, there must be our love.    
James 2.20. 
Wilt thou know, O vain man, that faith without works is dead?  
Hark, vain man, hark what the Apostle saith,  
And do not boast so much of thy great faith;  
For though 'twere able mountains to remove,  
'Tis nothing worth unless it wo●k by love;  
Love is the life of it, 'tis tha● alone  
Which quickens it, or else 'tis dead, 'tis none.  
That man who breathes not at the mouth a jor,  
Whose heart no motion hath, whose pulse bea●s not,  
We say is dead; the like we ●ay infer  
Concerning faith, that's dead which doth not stir:  
If it be living, 'twill be active too,  
What the heart thinks, mouth speaks, the hands will do.  
Let others show their faith if that they please  
Without their works, while I show mine by these.  
First my Religion shall be pure, and then  
Peaceable, if it be possible, with men;  
Forgiving wrongs, giving what I can spare  
To those that want and in distresses are;  
I will be feet to th' lame, eyes to the blind,  
Helpful to all, and unto none unkind.  
If thus my faith be qualified, I shall  
Approve it to myself, to God, to all.   
1 Peter 5.7. 
Casting all your care upon God, for he careth for you:  
COme heavy souls, oppressed that are,  
With doubts, and fears, and carking care.  
Lay all your burdens down, and see  
Where's one that carried once a tree  
Upon his back, and which is more,  
A heavier weight, your sins he bore.  
Think then how easily he can  
Your sorrows bear that's God and Man;  
Think too how willing he's to take  
Your care on him, who for your sake  
Sweat bloody drops, prayed, fasted, cried,  
Was bound, scourged, mocked, and crucified,  
He that so much for you did do,  
Will yet do more, and care for you.   
Rev. 20.11, 12. 
And I saw a great white Throne, and him that sat on it, from whose face the Earth and the Heaven fled away, and there was found no place for them. And I saw the dead, both small and great stand before God; and the Books were opened, and another Book was opened which is the Book of Life, and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the Books, according to their works.  

HAd I the Art in painting like to him  
Who did the day of Doom so lively limn,  
That when a Heathen Prince beheld the same,  
With terror struck, a Christian he became;  
Thus would I set it forth unto your eye,  
The Heavens should put on a sable dye,  
Masked with the blackest veil of thickest clouds,  
Which to the Sun, Moon, Stars should be as sh●owds  
To muffle them in one continued night,  
Not once affording the least spark of light,  
Hiding their heads as shamed or grieved to see  
The horrid sins of men which then should be  
Made manifest and naked to the world,  
And the dire plagues that on them should be hursed,  
From this sad object let your eye retire  
To th' other side and see the earth on fire,  
The Sea all blood, the Throne of God on high,  
Whereon he sits in glorious Majesty,  
Legions of Angels him surrounding there,  
Millions of men that newly raised were  
Out of their sepulchers, by his command,  
To hear their final sentence trembling stand:  
Below the devils in the various shapes  
Of hideous monsters, and he●● 〈◊〉 wide gapes,  
Casting forth flame of 〈…〉 thick smoke,  
Enough to blot out h●av●● 〈…〉 to choke.  
As soon as God hath said, Ye Cursed, go  
Int' everlasting fire, the devils lo  
Are ready strait, and drag them down to hell,  
Where they in torments infinite must dwell.  
But since Apelles skill I want to make  
This Picture right, I shall be bold to take  
A Copy from the Pencil of Saint John,  
As here I find it in his Vision.   

I saw (saith he) a Throne both white and great  
Of God Almighty, 'Twas the judgement Seat;  
Mysterious in the colour, which was white,  
'Cause Justice should be innocent and bright.  
Not like to Herod's Throne, that was died red  
With blood of Infants which he massacred;  
Nor sullied o'er with falsehood and with wrong,  
But like the milky way, clear all along.  
As white for colour was this stately Throne,  
So great for quantity, whereby is shown  
The greatness of the judge that thereon sits,  
Past th' apprehension of the greatest wits.  
For such is his immensity none can  
His measure take; beyond the reach of man.  
No Power then his Justice can withstand,  
Whose power doth both heaven and earth command;  
For earth and heaven there shall be found no place,  
When he appears they both flee from his face;  
His face, the fight whereof is heaven alone,  
And joys beyond imagination.  
I saw, (saith he, the dead, both great and small,  
Stand before God the judge impartial,  
His judgements are a great deep, into which  
All fall alike, the poor, as well as rich,  
The small as great; there not a cobweb lies,  
Through which huge sinners like, to greater Flies,  
A passage force, while lesser stick behind  
As prisoners, and no way t' escape can find;  
Not a net there, in which the lesser fry  
Of sinners, like to fishes, may espy  
Holes to slip out, whiles that the greater be  
Entangled without hopes of getting free;  
No, this great judge doth small and great convent  
Before this highest Court of Parliament,  
From which are no Appeals, but all must rest  
Irrevocable, be they cursed or blessed.  
There's no resisting, the stiff knee must bend,  
And the stout heart from his high thoughts descend  
And listen to its doom, You shall see there  
Great Alexander quaking stand for fear,  
He who the world once conquered, and did weep,  
For want of more, now in a hole would creep,  
And give that world which he had conquered  
For one small corner in't to hide his head,  
And all that wealth he got, to clear the guilt  
Of all the blood which his vain glory spilled.  
There shall you see that Absolom the fair,  
Who hanged was in his proud dangling hair  
Confounded stand, expecting when to hear  
A heavier judgement thundering in his ear,  
Condemning him to hang in hell's hottest fire,  
'Cause to his father's Throne he did aspire.  
There shall you see King Ahab, who by's wife  
Robbed Naboth of his vineyard and his life.  
And that lewd woman Jezabel his Queen  
'Mongst many of her S●x shall there be seen,  
And for her Witchcrafts, pride, and painting sent  
To Pluto's Court to have her punishment,  
There shall you see Doeg, who in pretence  
Of holy vows did work no small offence;  
For by his malice he with Saul so wrought,  
That more than fourscore Priests to death he brought  
There shall you see the Sodomites that burned,  
In Lust unnatural, and to ashes turned  
By fire from heaven; but now the Lord shall send  
A fire from hell to burn them without end.  
There shall you see those three presumptuous men,  
Core and his Complices appear again,  
Who for their striving against Moses, and  
'Gainst Aaron too, do stigmatised stand  
To all posterity; as th' earth before,  
So now hell gapes to swallow them once more.  
There shall you see Uzziah, though a King,  
Condemned for his Incense Offering,  
And taking on him the priest's function,  
Whereto he had no right nor unction.  
There shall you see Antiochus the Great,  
Who did commit that Sacrilegious feat  
In robbing of the Temple, doomed to pains  
Proportioned to his unlawful gains.  
There shall you see that glutton who did fare  
Deliciously each day, and purple wear,  
Suffering poor Lazarus to starve the while,  
Begging himself now in an humble stile  
But for a cup of water to assuage  
The furous flames that on his tongue do rage;  
And justly shall that tongue such torments bear,  
Which pleased itself so much in dainty cheer.  
There shall you see that Phocas (who did slay  
Mauritius his Master, to make way  
For his Ambition to ascend the Throne)  
Descend into the deepest dungeon  
Of Belzebubs black Vault, perpetually  
To suffer pains for his damned Treachery.  
There you the Traitor Judas shall behold,  
Who his dear Lord for thirty pieces sold.  
There you shall see those Prophets that pretend  
To inspiration, and uncalled ascend  
The Pulpit, venting of old Heresies  
And most abominable Blasphemies,  
Under the notion of new lights, these shall  
To utter darkness be condemned all.  
For I beheld the Bookswide opened were,  
Another Book, the Book of Life was there  
Laid open too, infallible Records,  
Wherein were written all the deeds, and words,  
And thoughts, and names of men, which shall be read  
In public then, and they be punished,  
Or else rewarded with great woes and joys,  
According unto all their works and ways.    

Upon a Snake in a Garden of Flowers, having stung one that trod upon him unawares.  

WHo thought this Snake would e'er have found  
An entrance into this enclosed ground,  
Or that a Serpent here should hide his head  
Under this sweet and flowery bed?   

But 'tis no news, for long ago  
(It was the devil's trick man to entice)  
A greater Serpent made his way into  
A better Garden, Paradise.   

And ever since there is no place  
Of pleasure which we would impropriate,  
But that therein the Serpent shows his face,  
Though we discover him too late.   

We see him not before we feel  
That we by his envenomed teeth are bit,  
And when, Achilles like w' are hurt i'th' heel,  
We seek for balsam to cure it.   

Better it were if we took heed,  
How to avoid the Serpent ere he stung;  
So should we feel no pain, nor medicine need,  
But safely sit our flowers among.   

Whiles we securely take delight,  
Amidst our many sweet and fragrant flowers,  
The devil Serpent turns and doth us bite,  
And with sharp pains our pleasure sours.   

Let us look then before we leap,  
And timely seek the danger to prevent,  
Le●t we in stead of joys do sorrows reap,  
And when it is too late repent.    

Upon Divine Love.  
HOw strong is Love, what tongue express it can,  
Or heart conceive, since it made God a man?  
How strong is Love, which made that God-Man die,  
That man might live with God eternally?  
Lord, let this love of thine my heart inspire  
With love again, as sparks rise from the fire.  
Thy love's a Sun, give me a beam from thence,  
Which may both light and heat alike dispense,  
Light to direct others the surest way  
That leads to heaven and everlasting joy:  
Heat to preserve in me a constant motion  
Of fervent Zeal to thee, and pure devotion;  
That all my thoughts, words, actions may prove  
There is no passion half so strong as Love.  
A passion is't? a divine virtue rather,  
Which from a Deity springs, and calls God Father;  
Yea, Love is God, and God is love; O then  
Adore, but not profane it with thy pen!   

The echo, or Answer of a good Conscience.  
WHat's a good Conscience, echo, canst say? Ay.  
Say then, and what 'tis manifest. A feast▪  
Where is't? i'th' Understanding wholly? O lie.  
Is it then (Echo) in my breast? My rest,  
Rest? is'●●rom pain or sin, say whether? Either.  
If both, 'Tis heaven on earth, a Saints bliss. Yes.  
Is't in our own or others' powers? Ours.  
O then a jewel 'tis, rich and bright. Right▪  
Then tell me how shall I come by it? Buy it.  
If Gold will buy't, Gold I'll provide. O wide.  
If Gold will not, what else will do it? Do it.  
Is't not enough that I believe well? Live well.  
Dost not consist in good affections? Actions.  
To get it are good works the best way? Ay.  
How long must this be my endeavour? Ever.   

A PASTORAL DIALOGUE Concerning the joys of HEAVEN, And the pains of HELL.  DAMON. PHILLIS. Phillis. 
DAmon, Is't true, or do they fain  
Who say that we shall live again  
After w' are dead? Dam. Philis, 'Tis so,  
That thou and I, and all must go  
To another world, where we  
In endless joys or Pains must be.  Phillis, 
Damon, I prithee Damon tell,  
How call'st thou it? Dam. Heaven or Hell.  Phillis. 
What is Heaven, Damon? say.  Damon. 
A place where all the year is May.  
Where every bird doth sit and sing  
Continually, as in the spring,  
Where are always to be seen  
Flowery meadows, pastures green;  
Where many springs and fountains meet,  
As crystal clear, as honey sweet;  
Rich flocks, whose fleeces are of gold,  
And whose flesh never will grow old,  
But the Ewe is as tender there,  
As the new fallen Lamb is here.  
The shepherd needs not watch to keep  
Either from wolf or beat his sheep.  
No beast comes there that's fierce or wild,  
They are all innocent and mild;  
No grief nor want amongst them found,  
But all are well, and safe, and sound.  
Our roundelays harsh discords be  
Unto their sweetest harmony,  
Beyond the music of the spheres.  
O thou wouldst wish to be all ears,  
Our feasts, if we to theirs compare,  
Not feasts, but rather fasts they are:  
Their food so full yet without waste,  
O thou wouldst wish to be all taste.  Phil. 
O happy place, be thou my guide  
That I may ever there abide,  
But once more Damon, prithee tell,  
What is that place thou callest hell?  Dam. 
A dismal place, where is no light,  
'Tis always winter, always night,  
Where vultures feed on men, and where  
The scretch-owl cryeth all the year,  
The ground with flames is parched about,  
Like those mount Aetna sendeth out,  
No flowers nor wholesome herbs are seen,  
Not any that are sweet or green  
Grow in that soil, which nought else bre●ds  
But hemlock, and such poisonous weeds,  
Which who so tastes, he soon goes sad,  
And thorough deep despair runs mad;  
No fountain, but one standing ditch,  
Whose water is as black as pitch,  
Bitter as gall, so foul doth stink,  
That you may sme●'t before you drink;  
But if you drink, it poisons you,  
And makes you black as itself too.  
There be no sheep, but goats, whose hair  
Doth like bores bristles wildly stare.  
They're old and tough, and monstruous evil,  
Fit meat for none, but for the devil,  
Pandora's box there opened first,  
Hath made the place ere since accursed  
With all diseases, which do still  
Much torment cause, yet never kill;  
Th' inhabitants there never die,  
But in quenchless fire they fry;  
Their best music is the groans  
And howlings of the damned ones;  
In stead of feasting on good meat,  
The worm of conscience doth them eat;  
Like Tantalus fruit they may see,  
Yet never taste, but starved be.  Phil. 
O wretched place! be thou my guide,  
That I may never there abide,   

Upon the people's denying of tithes in some places, and ejecting their Pastors.  

THe shepherd heretofore did keep  
And watch the sheep,  
Whiles they poor creatures did rejoice  
To hear his voice;  
But now, they that were used to stray,  
Do know the way.  
So perfectly, that they can guide  
The shepherd when he goes aside.   

To pay the tenth fleece they refuse,  
As shepherd's dues;  
They know a trick worth two of that,  
They can grow fat,  
And wear their fleece on their own back,  
But let him lack  
Meat, drink, and cloth, and every thing  
Which should support and comfort bring.   

What silly animals be these,  
Themselves to please  
With fancies, that they nothing need,  
But safely feed  
Without the shepherd's careful eye?  
When lo they die  
ere they be ware being made a prey  
Unto the wolf by night and day.   

Besides, they're subject to the ror,  
And God knows what  
Diseases more, which they endure,  
And none can cure  
But the shepherd's skilful hand;  
In need they stand  
Of his physic and his power  
To heal and help them every hour.   

The danger set before their eyes,  
Let them be wise;  
Not trusting to their own direction,  
Nor protection,  
But to his rod, his staff submit;  
His Art, his wit  
For every sore a salve hath found,  
And will preserve them safe and sound.    

The souls wish.  
O How I long to be dissolved, and see  
This mortal put on immortality!  
Me thinks each day's a year, each year's an age  
Till I arrive at that most glorious stage  
Of heaven, where Saints and Martyrs gazing on,  
Look if I tread the same steps they have gone;  
But I (like Drake) so great a compass take  
About the world, such strange Meanders make,  
That they have got the goal in shorter space,  
Than I have been in running half my race,  
So have I seen a crystal stream to glide  
In various windings by a meadow's side,  
Making a thousand paces 'bout the shore,  
Which in a strait line had not been twelve score,  
O my deer God, cast down those banks of sin  
That interrupt my soul from running in  
An even channel to thy Sanctuary.  
Ad wings unto my feet, which soon may carry▪  
Unto her Ark my dovelike Spirit, blessed,  
By being fixed i'th' centre of all rest.   

Upon Christ's coming to judgement.  
LOrd, when thou com'st to judge the world with right,  
Thou've steale upon us like a thief i'th' night,  
Or like a flash of lightning from the sky,  
Or like the sudden twinkling of an eye,  
Or like the pains on woman, much about  
The time when once that her account is out.  
O let me like to that good husband watch,  
Lest that the th●ief me unprepared catch;  
O let thy Grace be evermore my light,  
That th' other lightning may not me affright.  
O let mine eye be ever fixed on thee,  
That thy last coming I with joy may see.  
O let me cast up my accounts so well,  
That I may never feel the pains of hell.   

The Antipodes.  
WHy art so sad and sullen, O my Muse,  
That now to make a verse thou dost refuse?  
Must thou be moved by a reward to raise  
Thy fancy up? Lo here's a sprig of bays  
To make a laurel; if that will not do it,  
Mere indignation will create a Poet,  
Art thou not angry yet at these mad times?  
Canst thou forbear to write satiric rhimes?  
A rod is good for mad men in their fits,  
'Twill them restrain, if not restore their wits;  
The world is a great Bedlam, where men talk  
Distractedly, and on their heads do walk,  
Treading Antipodes to all the Sages,  
And sober minded of the former ages.  
They were content (good souls) with slender meat,  
Such as their gardens yielded they did eat:  
A salad, bread, and water fresh that ran  
From the next spring, did dine a Gentleman▪  
They were content (good souls) for to be clad  
In skins which from the beasts backs could be had,  
And so it did them from the cold defend  
It was enough, they had no other end.  
They were content to sit under the shade  
Of their own Vine, ne'er offering to invade  
Their neighbours, or take arms them to oppress,  
So they their own might quietly possess.  
They were content with such instructions as  
From their own Priests and Prophets mouths did pass,  
And with that fear and reverence did them hear,  
As though the only oracles they were:  
It was the golden age of the world then,  
When merit and not money raised men.  
Grace was their gold, their hearts were the rich mine  
Where virtues most transparently did shine.  
Faces about now, and behold the scene  
Turned topsy-turvy, all things changed clean,  
No fare contents us, but what's fetched from far,  
And dearly bought, and cooked with curious care,  
And dainty sauces; thus with art we strive  
Our appetites to kill, and to revive:  
We of our bellies Gods do make, and thus  
Are gluttons beyond Heliogabulus.  
No drink contents us, but the richest wine,  
And strongest beer, which we swil in like swine,  
Keeping no mean, but quaffing round about,  
Till all the wine's in, and the wit is out.  
No clothes content us but the richest stuff,  
And cost●iest die, else 'tis not gay enough;  
Nay, it is nothing worth, unless the fashion  
Come like Queen Sheba, from a foreign nation.  
We change our habits like the moon, our shapes  
With Proteus, and are made the Frenchmens' Apes.  
No living will to us contentment yield,  
But we must still be laying field to field,  
Wishing this Lordship, purchasing that farm;  
If money wanting be, than force of arm  
Shall make it ours, or subtlety of wit,  
One way or other we will compass it.  
No teaching now contents us the old way,  
The layman is inspired every day,  
Can pray and preach ex tempore; he Priest  
With all his learning is despised and hissed  
Out of the Church, and some have lately fed,  
He should be shortly brought to beg his bread.  
We've nothing of the golden age, unless  
That Gold's our Grace, and gain's our godliness;  
Not manners now, but money makes a man,  
Yea many think it makes a Christian;  
As if none were religious but the rich,  
And the poor body damned were for a witch,  
Dost see my Muse the world turned upside down,  
The Prince on foot, whiles mounted is the clown;  
The beggar now a purchaser, and he  
That was worth thousands, brought to beggary?  
Dost thou behold all this, and canst be mute?  
Come take thy bow and arrows, aim and shoot  
The sharpest of them, cast thy keenest dart  
At this mad age, and strike it to the heart;  
Come dip thy pen in vinegar and gall,  
And never leave till thou hast vented all  
Thy just spleen on it: if it still grow worse,  
Let it expect not thine, but God's great curse.   

To a Gentlewoman that was extremely troubled with the toothache.  
I Grieve and wonder so great pain  
You should from one small tooth sustain,  
That you can neither eat nor drink,  
Nor a●l the night scarce sleep a wink;  
Yet to your comfort, this I'll say,  
That to hell pains 'tis but a toy,  
A pleasure, if compared it were  
To what the damned suffer there.  
If in one tooth such anguish lies,  
What torments from that fire arise?  
This in a night or two is past,  
But that doth infinitely last:  
In this, one member aches, no more,  
In that all members o'er and o'er:  
In this the body doth but smart,  
In that the soul too beats her part.  
Think then that this is all the hell  
Which you shall feel, and you are well.   

Upon a Passing Bel.  

Hark how the Passing bell  
Rings out thy neighbour's knel,  
And thou for want of wit,  
Or grace, ne'er think'st on it,  
Because thou yet art well.   

Fool, in two days or three,  
The same may ring for thee;  
For death's impartial dart  
Will surely hit thy heart,  
He will not take a fee.   

Since than he will not spare,  
See thou thyself prepare  
Against that dreadful day  
When thou shalt turn to clay,  
This bell bids thee beware.    

Upon the setting of a Clock-Larum.  
O What a drowsy lump of flesh is man!  
Whose life being no longer than a span,  
Great part of that short span is past away  
In sleep, so that 'tis hard for us to say,  
Whether we live or no; for whiles that we  
Repose ourselves, dead to ourselves we be,  
Without all motion and intelligence,  
Till this shrill 'larum quicken our dulsense,  
And make us living souls to th' day arise,  
Like Adam when he opened first his eyes.  
Yet this sleep's short and sweet, if we compare  
It to that other wherein many are  
Profoundly steeped: a spiritual sleep in sin  
The major part o'th' world is drowned in;  
That but the Body's nap we know to be,  
This the souls everlasting Lethargy,  
Unless God waken it; to that intent  
He hath to man a treble 'larum sent;  
His Word first from his prophet's mouth did beat  
A Parley, and from sin sound a Retreat,  
Saying, Thou sleeper wake, attention give  
To what I say, hear and thy soul shall live;  
Let not thy sins turn day into black night,  
Rise from the dead and Christ shall give thee light.  
And left this 'larum should not be of force  
From this dead sleep in sin to raise a Course,  
He sets a second that with secret art  
Besides the ear, pierceth the very heart;  
His spirit it is, and when the other fails  
To rouse the sleepy sinner, this prevails.  
But if his ears and heart be so fast barred,  
That neither of these larums will be heard,  
Then sounds a third, God's judgements pouring down  
Upon his head, and making it ring noon,  
Flashing like lightning, rattling too like thunder,  
Parting his soul and body far asunder,  
Till so from sleep in sin he fall at last  
To sleep in death, and in the grave is cast,  
From which he shall not wake before he hear  
Th' Archangels dreadful 'larum in his ear,  
Saying, Arise ye dead, to judgement come,  
And from Christ's mouth receive your final doom.   

Scylla and Carybdis.  

TWo gulfs there are twixt which 'tis hard to sail,  
And not be shipwrackt: here profaneness stands  
With all its brood of vices at i●s tail,  
There superstition with its numerous bands   

Of false traditions; 'twas the main intent  
Of our late Pilots between both to steer:  
But froward fate, to seamen incident,  
Made them mistake their way; for whiles they fear  
To sink into the gulf of superstition,  
They in the gulf of profanation fall,  
And in the furious heat of opposition  
'Gainst Papists, are like to turn Atheists all.   

So some of th' ancient Fathers in dispute  
Against one heresy, did too much bend  
Unto another, and their arrow shoot  
Besides the mark, thus mar what they would mend.   

But cannot we keep in the middle region  
Except we sink too low, or soar too high?  
Is there no moderate temper in religion,  
But we must either scorched or frozen die?   

What hath the Church no habitable part,  
Betwixt the torrid and the frozen Zone?  
Nor hath the Churchman learned as yet the Art  
O' th' moralist, that virtue leans to none   

Of the extremes, but in the centre lies?  
So doth religious Truth, if we could find  
its tract out; but the fault is in our eyes  
That will not see, or rather in our mind,   

That will not keep the road and safest way  
Which by the best and wisest men is gone,  
But rather through unbeaten deserts stray,  
Which lead to nothing but confusion.   

O God, be thou out Pilot once again,  
Or put some Pharos up, that by the light  
Our ship the Church may sail safe through the main,  
And not be swallowed by these gulfs i' th' night.    

Upon laymen's preaching.  
ART thou offended, because thou dost see  
Eldad and Medad both to prophesy  
Within the camp, although they came not near  
The Tabernacle, nor enabled were  
Till th'instant by the Spirit? Do not say,  
Moses forbid them; rather wish and pray  
That all God's people Prophets were; for so  
The meekest man on earth Moses did do.  
But when an Ignoramus shall profess  
Himself a Prophet, and inspired no l●sse  
Than Moses or Elias, and pretend  
The Spirit is on him, to no other end  
Then to foment a faction, and decry  
All learning in the University:  
When that mechanic fellows from their trade  
Shall Aaron's office offer to invade,  
And mount the Pulpit, publicly expound  
The Sacred Scripture, though they have no ground  
For what they say, but merely what proceeds  
From spleen or fancy; so they sow their weeds  
I'th' furrows of weak hearts, which grow apace,  
Choking the good seed and the herbs of grace  
sown by the Ministers of God before,  
'Tis time, high time, that they be bid give o'er,  
And that with Joshua we cry, My Lord  
Moses, forbid them to abuse God's word.  
But if both we and Moses silent are,  
And none the madness of these Prophets dare  
Reprove, either the simple ass will do't  
(The vulgar sort) and spurn them with his foot,  
Scorning to learn of those who nothing know,  
But what they bring from shopboard or from plough,  
Or else let them expect their doom to hear  
From God's own mouth (which the worst judgement were)  
These Prophets run, yet them I have not sent;  
I have not spoken to them, yet they went  
And prophesied deceits, even in my name;  
I am against them therefore to their shame,  
And will confound all those that lies do teach;  
No more (my people) do you hear such preach;  
But seek the word at their mouths who are well  
Trained up at feet of learned Gamaliel,  
Elisha's double portion do inherit,  
Being called both by the Church, and by the Spirit,  
Who can my holy mysteries unfold,  
And forth their treasures bring things new and old,  
Who can confirm their truths by strength of reason,  
Mercy and judgement sing, each in their season;  
That can their several portions give to all,  
Humble the proud, and raise up them that fall;  
Have milk for babes, and meat for stronger men,  
Can teach both by their preaching, and their pen;  
Prune the luxuriant, prop the weaker plants,  
Have fords for lambs, and depths for Elephants.  
The men thus qualified, are those I send,  
To such, and only such you must attend.   

Upon the contrary effects of Tobacco in himself and his friend.  
IS it not wondrous strange that there should be  
Such different tempers twixt my friend and me?  
I burn with heat when I Tobacco take,  
But he on th' other side with cold doth shake;  
to both 'tis physic, and like physic works,  
The cause o' th' various operation lurks  
Not in Tobacco, which is still the same,  
But in the difference of our bodies frame:  
What's meat to this man, poison is to that,  
And what makes this man lean, makes that man fat;  
What quenches one's thirst, makes another dry;  
And what makes this man well, makes that man die.  
So the same Sun we see, hardeneth the clay  
By his reflex, but melts the wax away;  
So the same word of God doth Saul convert,  
And softeneth his, but hardeneth Pharaoh's heart.  
What ere the difference of our bodies be,  
Lord let the temper of our souls agree,  
That so thy Word the same effect may have  
On both of us, not to condemn, but save.   

Upon a good year of Corn, and a quick harvest.  
HAve we not had a fruitful year of grain,  
Fair weather too to bring it in amain?  
And shall we not an offering to him pay,  
Who gives us richly all things to enjoy?  
Did not the heathens show their thankfulness  
To their Corn goddess Ceres, and express  
The same by sacrifices of the best?  
And shall we fail our thanks to manifest  
To our true God, who bears the Christian name?  
O let not us fall short of them for shame!  
But what will he accept? What shall we bring?  
A sheaf of wheat, or some such trivial thing?  
That were but paying him in his own coin.  
A single penny out of his whole Mine;  
We should present the best we can devise,  
A reasonable living sacrifice,  
Our souls and bodies purified from sin.  
That, o that's it which he delighteth in;  
That is the Corn which Angels shall with joy  
Reap, and into God's heavenly barn convey.   

Upon his walking one day abroad, when sometimes the Sun shone warm, an sometimes the wind blew cold on him.  

THis emblem's forth the world aright,  
Which now shines on me hot and bright,  
Now it blows cold on me,  
But ne'er will constant be;  
'Tis just like the weather,  
Hot and cold together.  
One while it me with many favours crowns,  
Anon it stabs me with as many frowns.   

Why do I then my trust put in it,  
Seeing it varies every minute?  
I may go court the moon,  
And stop her course, as soon  
As bind the world to stay  
My faithful friend a day.  
If it be so inconstant, I intend  
To seek out if I can, a surer friend.   

But where is he? Not here below,  
Where Sun doth shine, and wind doth blow,  
But in the heaven above,  
There do I fix my love  
On one that changeth never,  
Being the same for ever;  
It is my God who is so fast a friend,  
That whom he loves, he loves unto the end.   

What though sometimes he seems to frown,  
And with rough winds to blow me down?  
The fault's not his, but mine,  
For he would always shine  
On me; 'tis I that change,  
My sins make him look strange;  
Yet under his bent brow I may discover  
Some smiling glances which betray a lover,   

Showing that he desires no more,  
But that I be as heretofore;  
For 'tis his only aim,  
To make me still the same  
To him, that he may be  
The very same to me.  
Lord, let me thy unchanging favour find,  
I shall not need the Sun, nor fear the wind.    

Upon a dream, that he was writing his Sermon Notes upon his naked breast that very morning that was the Anniversary of his Baptism.  
THat on the High priest's breastplate there was wrote  
Urim and Thummim, it was not for nought;  
'Mongst other ends, some thought it did imply  
Soundness in's doctrine, in's life sanctity.  
What e'er it signified, his lips we know  
With learning should, his heart with grace o'erflow;  
Both which present him fairer far than all  
The sparkling stones in Aaron's Pectoral.  
He of all Preachers surely is the best,  
That writes his sermon first on his own breast;  
He prints his Notes before he speaks them, who  
What e'er he teacheth is resolved to do  
Himself, and thus becom●s a double guide,  
Doctrine on this, example on that side.  
He that hath Esau's hand, and Jacob's voice,  
B●ilds with the one, with th' other he destroys.  
Lord, thou didst first imprint thy Law within  
The Tables of man's heart, and when that sin  
Defaced had those characters, thou then  
In stony Tables printedst them again;  
S●nce they are broken, humbly I implore,  
That thou wouldst write them in my heart once more,  
ne'er to be blotted out, that so I may  
Both read them, and observe them every day;  
So I thy holy Vessel shall impart  
A taste to others, yet within my heart  
Retain a favour to myself, and so  
The way I point to others I shall go:  
So what Saint Paul strove for, I shall enjoy,  
Having taught others, be no castaway:  
And as thy Law is written in my mind,  
So in thy Book let me not fail to find  
My name inscribed with thine own sacred hand,  
Which shall indelible for eve● stand.  
But why upon my christening day this dream  
Presented to my fancy? 'Twas a theme  
Fit for the day, for when the soul is made  
Pure by that washing, than a ground is laid  
For God's hand-writing; 'tis like Virgin wax,  
Which only his Divine Impression lacks.  
My God baptize me once more with thy blood,  
And since thou dost not find me, make me good.  
Wash my soul clean, and that I may be known  
To be thy Child, O seal me for thine own.   

A Soliloquy upon the Circumcision, commonly called New-yeers-day.  
WAs't not enough that God himself became  
Man like to me, and in all things the same,  
Excepting sin alone; but he must be  
Under the Law, and circumcised for me?  
O ecstasy of love! which for my sake  
The Son of God the Son of man did make;  
Make him, an infant, shed some drops of blood,  
As the first fruits to that more liberal flood  
That flowed in a full tide, from every part,  
His hands, his feet, his side, his head, his heart;  
Whereof a sovereign balm he did compound  
To heal my wounds, and make my sick soul sound.  
What present, O my soul, hast thou to pay  
Thy God? What newyears gift this newyears day?  
Give him thyself, who gave himself for thee;  
A better offering there cannot be.  
Do somewhat like him too, and circumcise  
The foreskin of thy heart; then sacrifice  
Thy purer thoughts to him, and now begin  
This day to live to grace, to die to sin.   

An other upon the Resurrection, commonly called Easter day.  
THis day my Lord rose early from the dead,  
Whiles I securely sleep in my soft bed,  
Not dreaming what he did my soul to save  
Which lay long dead, and buried in the grave  
Of sin. Haste then my soul, and take new breath  
From Christ, to raise thee from this spiritual death;  
Up with the break of day, and break thy chains  
Made by thy sins, and wash away thy stains  
In that pure fountain which was opened wide,  
And runs yet fresh out of thy saviour's side.  
He rising left his grave clothes all behind,  
Do so by thine, and banish from thy mind  
All thoughts of putting them on any more,  
But rise as gold refined from its ore,  
Ne'er to contract more dross from earth again,  
Clear and unspotted as the light remain;  
So when that Christ to judge the world shall come,  
Thou shalt not tremble at the day of doom,  
But boldly stand before the judge, and hear  
The final sentence published without fear;  
To thy eternal comfort he shall say,  
Good servant, enter thou thy Master's Joy.   

A Colloquy upon the Ascension, commonly called Holy Thursday.  The SPEAKERS. ANGELS, CHRIST, APOSTLES. Angels. 
WHo's this from Edom comes, with garments died  
From Bozra? Died in blood, which from his side  
His dear side issued'? Wast not he that late  
But three days since was crucified? What state  
He marches in? The clouds his Chariot are,  
And on the wings o'th' wind he rides: 'tis rare,  
We ne'er beheld the like unless it were  
When once a fiery Chariot did bear  
The Prophet hither, which we wondered at;  
But this a greater wonder is then that:  
That Prophet died not, but alive was caught  
And by the power of God to heaven brought;  
We saw each wheel supported by his hand,  
Yea, we assisted by divine command,  
By special commission being sent  
To wait upon him all the way he went.  
Besides, when he the Heavens mounted had  
Amongst his fellow Prophets, he was glad  
To take his Seat; but this man hath the grace  
To sit above us all, and take his place  
At God's right hand, to him all knees do bow.  Christ. 
Cease, cease your wonder and I'll tell you how  
And why this is; know I am God and man;  
As man I cannot do 't, as God I can:  
As man I died, and lay three days i'th' grave,  
As God I rose again, mighty to save  
Myself and others from deaths greedy jaws,  
From sins inthralment and the devil's claws.  
I trod the winepress of God's wrath alone,  
And of the people there was with me none.  
I looked but no man helped, all from me fled,  
Yet mine own arm mine enemies conquered  
And led Captivity captive; now as King  
Of Kings I come salvation for to bring  
Unto my Church, and graces to power down  
Upon her, and with glories will her crown.  
In the mean time, do you descend with speed  
To comfort my Disciples at their need,  
Lo at the Mount of Olives yet they stay  
Still looking after me: begone, away.  Apostles. 
Oh we have lost the sight of him, no more  
Shall we enjoy his presence as before.  
What will become of us who now are left  
To the wide world, of our dear Lord bere●t?  
O that we had the swift wings of a Dove  
To fly unto the bosom of our Love?  
There we should rest securely from all harms,  
Embracing and embraced in his arms,  
But what is this? behold another sight,  
Two men or Angels rather, clad in white,  Angels. 
Leave gazing thus ye men of Galilee.  
For this same Jesus you shall shortly see  
Return again in the same manner as  
You now beheld him hence to Heaven pass;  
He's gone but to prepare for you a place  
Against the time that you have run your race.  
Leave wishing too, for wishes will not raise  
You to the mansions of those endless joys  
Where he resides: but let your thoughts all bend  
In heavenly conversation to ascend,  
Follow his holy steps, for so you shall  
Have your Ascension, body, soul, and all.  Apostles. 
We thank you for your counsel, and obey▪  
This having said, they all depart away.  
Th' Angels to heaven, th' Apostles homeward went,  
Expecting when the Spirit should be sent.  
And they endued with power from the Lord  
To save the world by preaching of the Word.   

Upon all Saints day.  
SUch honour have all the Lords Saints, that we  
Keep this day holy to their memory;  
And reason good, for they examples are  
To us in life and death of virtues rare;  
For though all virtues in some measure met  
In all the saints as lines i' th' centre, yet  
Some special grace in every one did dwell,  
Wherein each one the other did excel.  
Thus Abram for his Faith was most renowned,  
Job for his singular Patience was crowned;  
Moses for meekness did all men surpass,  
Elias for his zeal most famous was;  
David is for an Upright heart commended,  
Josias for a Tender heart transcended;  
John the Evangelist for Charity,  
And John the Baptist for Austerity;  
Saint Paul for his Humility surmounted,  
When chief of sinners he himself accounted,  
And least of all th' Apostles, though indeed  
For pains and parts he did the rest exceed;  
Peter for Penitence the prize doth bear,  
Who for his sin shed many a bitter tear:  
Now as their life to us serves for a light,  
So is their death most precious in God's sight,  
By that we learn to live, by this to die,  
By both we come to immortality.  
Since than they are such happy guides, well may  
We solemnize at least one annual day  
Unto their honour, yet not guilty be  
Of superstition or Idolatry.  
When we observe this day, we do no more  
Than reverence them as Saints, not them adore.  
God's the sole object of our invocation,  
They but the pattern for our imitation;  
And 'tis our prayer always on this day,  
That we their godly living follow may,  
Till we with them at last come to partake  
Of joys unspeakable for Christ his sake;  
Whiles thus we celebrate this festival,  
None can us justly superstitious call.   

To Christ. A Poem of Hugo Grot. Sil. lib. 1. p. 10. Translated.  
O Christ, which art the head of every thing,  
From whom a better life than this doth spring;  
Thy father's measure yet unmeasured,  
Whom (whiles that he himself contemplated  
In his high mind) he streams forth light of light,  
And sees himself in's equal image bright;  
Like whom the world, and the world's guardian, man,  
Was made: but O, he suddenly began  
To be rebellious, his high honour l●st,  
And pressed with crimes (which him most dearly cost)  
Becoming guilty of the greatest pain,  
In this state lay, and had for ever lain,  
But that thy Father his case pitying, did  
Give thee, who with himself before wast hid  
Under concealed light; eternal love  
Unto his Church did him to mercy move.  
His truth by dreams he will reveal no more,  
Nor visions by his Prophets as before;  
But willing now a living Law to make,  
And lasting league with men; lo thou didst take  
A mortal body, and a manlike face,  
Yet not begot the way of human race  
By filthy lust, but thou conceived wast  
By power divine born of a Virgin chaste;  
Though thou no purple hadst to clothe thee, then  
B●ing newly born, nor bands of armed men  
To compass thee about and be thy guard,  
Yet Citizens of heaven keep watch and ward,  
And divine Anthems sang about thy stall  
More royal thus then any Prince's Hall.  
The beasts and shepherds thee encircled there,  
Poor, but far happier than all Kings they were  
In that they knew thee; thou a new come guest  
Wert by thy heaven to earth made manifest.  
The Magi stood amazed, a star to see  
Ne'er seen before; how great (say they) is he  
That's born, to honour whom new stars appear?  
Ye ●erie signs of heaven your light forbear,  
Forbear ye wandering stars, and Charles his wain  
To guide the Passengers upon the main,  
For through the various waves of things below  
And life's uncertainties, this Star doth show  
The way, not that which unto Babylon brings,  
Proud in the Courts of her Ars●oian Kings,  
Nor to the Palaces of Tibur stout,  
Nor too Jerusalem's turrets, but points out  
The Cottages of Bethlehem, and the door  
Of shepherd's tents; Jew's seek your King no more  
Amongst the Cornets and the Trumpets sound,  
And th' Arms wherewith man's fury doth surround  
Himself; ye know not, wretches as ye be,  
How near a thing to heaven is poverty,  
How sweet to suffer; tell the Parthians now,  
Go tell the Romans, tell your Herod how  
he'll make the blind to see, the lame to walk,  
he'll make the deaf to hear, the dumb to talk,  
he'll heal all plagues and sicknesses with ease,  
By's word not herbs, and calm the raging seas.  
Thousands he will with little food sustain,  
Himself long time with none, and raise again  
The dead, make water wine at his command,  
And walk upon the sea as on dry land.  
Let them whom jewels deck, let Martial men  
Try if they can perform the like again;  
These my poor Christ can do, nor doth he cure  
Bodies alone, but minds of men make pure,  
Purges their breasts that are possessed with sin,  
And heals the plague-sick world which we live in.  
Thus a right way he takes, whiles those that stand  
And mighty are, he pulls down with his hand;  
Those that are weak and fallen he erects.  
But look what stirs i'th' heavens; What strange aspects  
And strife of things; Whiles so great good in thee  
Is recompensed with hateful cruelty;  
Not by the Sythian, or the barbarous men  
Of Africa, or the north Pole Citizen,  
But by good Abraham's offspring, who alone.  
Of all the nations was thy chosen one.  
Such mischief black ambition can do,  
Whilesed being incensed with pride and hatred too  
It rages under feigned piety;  
A simple fate thou didst not perish by,  
But as a thief thou didst, though innocent,  
To undergo our sin and punishment.  
The sins of all the world did lie on thee  
Since Adam ate of the forbidden tree;  
From that first hour to this they pressed thee all;  
On us those bonds, on us those blows should fall.  
Those sharp black thorns should prick our temple veins  
The Sergeant should us drag to endless pains;  
The nails should pierce our hands, the spear our side,  
And we without delay be crucified:  
But so it did thy Father please, and Thee,  
To mingle Mercy with Security.   

Boet. Met. 4. l. 1. Translated.  
HE that lives quiet in a settled state,  
And treads below his feet high minded fate,  
That either fortune upright can behold  
With an undaunted face, and courage bold;  
Not all the raging threats o' th' sea, nor yet  
Vesuvius smoking fires, when e'er they get  
Out of their broken Chimneys, nor the bright  
Flashes of lightning which are used to smite  
The highest Towers, till to ground they fall,  
Can move this man, or trouble him at all.  
Why do men so much tyrant's rage admire,  
Since they want strength unto their fierce desire?  
Hope for no good from them, and fear no harm,  
So you their feeble anger shall disarm.  
But he whose fears are great, or hopes are bent  
To what is not his right, nor permanent,  
His Buckler casts away, his ground he leaves,  
And to enthrall himself a chain he weaves.   

The 5. Met. of the second book.  
THe former age, but too much blessed  
With fruitful fields, content did rest  
Not with dull luxury, yet lost  
Their hunger, stayed with little cost;  
A slender Chessnut them sufficed,  
They had not yet the way devised  
To mix live honey with their wine,  
Nor were they grown so proudly fine  
In their apparel, as to stain  
White fleeces in a purple grain.  
On salads suped, sweet sleep they took,  
And drink had from the running brook;  
The lofty Pine was then their shade,  
Not yet through deep seas did they wade;  
Strange coasts the Merchant had not sought  
For wares far fetched and dearly bought;  
Then the shrill trumpets did not sound,  
Nor bitter hatreds than were found  
To die their horrid arms with blood;  
For how could fury think it good,  
First to make War, when it could see  
Nothing but deadly wounds to be  
The pay of bloodshed? O ●hat now  
Our much corrupted times knew how  
From their ill customs to return  
To th' ancient manners; but they burn  
With love of gain, which is so great  
It puts down Aetna's fires for heat.  
Alas, who was't that first made bold  
To dig those precious Perils, Gold  
And richer Jewels, which would fain  
Concealed from our sight have lain?   

Upon the Right Reverend, And most Learned Dr. PRIDEAUX, late Bishop of Worcester.  
SInce Prideaux died, farewell the Muses nine,  
Farewell all Learning human and divine;  
For why should we pretend to any part  
Of Science, when the Genius of all Art  
Lies dead and buried? Now to make a verse,  
And think therewith to deck his golden Hearse,  
Were like a boy t' a general's grave that runs,  
And shoots off squibs in stead of greater guns,  
To solemnize his Funeral; 'twould he thought  
Done in a jeer, and he be whipped if caught.  
Alas we cannot speak his praise, for death  
Ere since it robbed his body of his breath,  
Hath left us speechless, all tongues were his own,  
All learned Languages to him were known.  
He with deep judgement had more Authors read  
Then others indices, and might be said  
To be a living Library, admired  
By this last age, and by the next desired.  
The University is in despair  
To find a Successor like him i'th' chair;  
His clear decisions he delivered there,  
As Oracles divine received were:  
His Arguments and Answers would admit  
Of no Replies, so home, so sure they hit,  
Preferment he ne'er sought, it sought him rather,  
First he a Doctor was, and then a Father  
Of this our Church; we justly mourn his fall  
Who was a Bishop ecumenical.  
His diocese of knowledge was so vast,  
That throughout all the Universe it passed;  
Betwixt the Puritan and Papist he  
Like a strong Rock fast fixed was in his see,  
Against both Factions he did upright stand  
Inclining not a jot to either hand;  
But a sound Protestant he lived and dy'd,  
One of the Learnedst e'er was of our side.  
They that loved Learning and a scholars name  
Raise Pyramids to his immortal fame.   

To his much honoured Friend and Kinsman, Sr E. B.  
WEre I to draw Griefs picture to the life,  
I'd take't from you now mourning for your wife:  
Arms folded, fixed eyes, and full of tears,  
Repeated sighs, neglected clothes and hairs,  
Pale face, no words but what are pumped by force,  
Small difference is betwixt you and a corpse.  
Sure 'tis not you, but your Ghost, come to tell  
How much you loved your Lady, and how well,  
That having but one soul between you two,  
She being gone, you had no more to do  
But vanish straight; such power hath love to make  
An husband pine away for his wife's sake;  
Yet all this but of grief's the outward part,  
I cannot lim● the sorrow of your heart,  
Nor can I see, nor can you show the pain  
And anguish which you inwardly sustain.  
Only I can imagine that a flood  
Runs from the red sea of your own heartblood,  
That every time a tear falls from your eye,  
A crimson drop follows it instantly;  
That every sigh, like to an hollow wind,  
Doth but presage a sanguine showers behind;  
That to your best beloved fain you would  
Swim through both rivers of your tears and blood.  
But stay a little, whiles the furious tide  
Of your swollen sorrow flows on every side,  
T' oppose it, were the next way to be drowned;  
But when it ebbs you may behold dry ground,  
And walk securely through that sea to th' shore  
In which you might have been o'er whelmed before.  
Hark then, your Lady calls to you from far,  
And prays you turn your grief for her, to care  
Of your dear children, that, as Poets fain,  
Minerva was the issue of Jove's brain  
Without a mother's help, so they may prove  
The issue of your mind as of your love;  
Thus for their being and their breeding too,  
They'll owe a double duty unto you.   

To his truly honoured Lady, the Lady R.  
MAdam, Though you have many changes seen,  
Yet y'are the same as you have always been;  
Times work no more on you then upon heaven,  
In all estates y'are so serene and even;  
Surely Copernicus opinion true,  
The earth's the only thing that moves, and you  
As being of an heavenly constitution,  
Unshaken stand in all this revolution  
Both in the Church and S●ate; with you it fares  
As with the Angels or the fixed Stars,  
Which give their light and influence to men,  
Yet are not soiled with their ills again.  
You are as good and virtuous, nay more  
Religious since those times then e'er before;  
For though that most grow worse by imitation  
Of th' epidemic sins, are now in fashion,  
'Tis contrary with you, who do detest  
All sin the more, the more it is professed;  
And as when heats with cold environed, 'tis  
Hotter by the Antiperistasis;  
Just so your Piety by opposition  
Of others wickedness, receives addition.  
And may it still to that degree proceed;  
That you may never more perfection need.   

To the noble Lady, and to him much endeared, the Lady M. T.  
WE envy Shropshire now, since it of late  
Doth you impropriate,  
Not letting us have the least share in you,  
To whom a part is due.  
We wish your Buckland house a Palace were  
That we might see you there;  
For since the time that you went hence away,  
We not ourselves enjoy.  
In losing you we lose our better part,  
And now we have no heart.  
Or quicken us with your presence as before.  
Or else we languish, and can live no more,   

To the no less honoured Lady, the Lady P.  
SOmewhat I owe unto your honoured Name,  
But cannot pay it, yet you may not blame  
The Poet, but yourself, as cause of it,  
Since that your worth is far above his wit,  
And either you below yourself must fall,  
Or else want his Encomium; for all  
That he may say or write in your just praise  
Will but eclipse your Sun and cloud its rays.  
'Tis true, he knows you not (which is his grie●)  
But by report, and that hath made you cures  
Of all your sex; within your Hemisphere  
There's none in competition will appear,  
Your virtues raise you to so high a state,  
They may admire but hardly imitate.  
You need not blush, as if this were too high;  
To write the Truth, I hopes no flattery.  
Now (Madam) if you please to cast a look,  
Or spend some spare time on this little Book,  
And in it any thing that's good do view,  
Then challenge it, for it belongs to you;  
What's vain or worthless in it that decline  
And pass it by I challenge that for mine.   

To the eminent scholar, and honour of our Church, Dr. HAMMOND.  
ALthough the times forbid you now to preach  
In public, yet your learned Writings teach  
Us how to live in these unhappy days,  
How we should upright walk in slippery ways.  
You are our Oedipus, and do untie  
The knottiest points in all divinity.  
Such is the power of your judicious pen,  
It stops the mouths of all gainsaying men;  
The Presbyter is routed and undone,  
He flies the field since you the day have won.  
At last your greatest Work you have put forth,  
But I'm not able to express its worth,  
So excellent it is, and like good wine  
Commends itself, it needs no bush of mine.  
Go on t'instruct the world, and with your light  
Shine out to guide us in the darkest night  
Of ignorance and Error, which will soon  
(Unless prevented) make us grope at noon.   

To the truly virtuous, and his most esteemed Cousin, Mrs. M. B.  
A Learned woman the an humble too  
May for a Miracle amongst us go.  
She's Mistress of all Arts, and of one more,  
To show so little of so great a ●tore;  
That woman which hath more than common worth  
Seldom wants tongue enough to set it forth;  
But she that knows much with sobriety,  
Is somewhat like unto the deity  
Veiled o'er with human flesh, which seems to be  
God manifested, yet a mystery.  
Much more she is indeed, then she'll appear,  
Her▪ inside's Velvet when her outside's hair.  
Like to a vessel full of precious wine,  
Or like unto a rich concealed Mine;  
The vessel makes no noise, but pierce it, then  
I● liquour yields that cheers the heart of men;  
The Mine concealed, though rich, no profit brings▪  
But once discovered is a prize for Kings.  
A miracle, a Mistress of all Arts.  
A mystery made up of all choice parts,  
A vessel filled with Nectar, a rich Mine,  
All these you are, though you all these decline▪  
And make yourself more than yourself to be  
By letting us not half your merits see.  
Thus Jacob's Vision is made good to you,  
When e'er you sleep, you may the Ladder view,  
Reaching from earth to heaven, made without hands;  
At foot whereof Humility there stands,  
knowledge above upon the highest round,  
All other Graces like the Angels found  
Ascending and descending up and down,  
To court you here a while, and there you crown.  
This makes us somewhat jealous, and to fear  
Lest by this Ladder they attempt to bear  
You soon to heaven, and leave us in the night  
Of ignorance when we have lost our light.  
Stand still in our Horizon then, we pray,  
Like Joshuah's Sun, and double make our day;  
For you impart a greater influence here  
Then when you shall be fixed i'th' highest sphere.   

To the Right Honourable, the Lady M. C.  
WEalth, Honour, virtue once combined  
To make one perfect of the female kind,  
At length they met with you, and did protest  
To go no further, but set up their rest  
Within your arms: those now that mean to share  
In them, must borrow what you please to spare:  
You superrogate, and there doth lie  
Such store of them in your rich treasury,  
That you may well afford so much as will  
Some meaner persons in good measure fill.  
The after droppings of a Catarackt  
Will raise the lesser brooks that water lacked,  
The gleanings of your Vintage will go near  
To make small Vessels run o'er once a year,  
Thus unto others you enough may give,  
Yet in all fullness you yourself may live.   

Upon his losing his way in a mist.  
I Thought I could not go astray,  
So perfectly I knew the way:  
Yet in a Mist I missed it, and  
Erred now on this, now on that hand,  
And till the fog was by the Sun  
Dispelled, I in a maze did run  
And ride as if'twere fairy ground,  
Or that the Puck had led me round;  
So whiles I want a heavenly light  
The day's to me as dark as night,  
Which way I go I cannot tell,  
Whether it be towards heaven or hell;  
But this I know, that there is odds,  
I tread the devil's tract, not Gods;  
For God's way straight and narrow is,  
The devil's broad and hard to miss.  
O Sun of Righteousness then shine,  
And soon disperse this mist of mine,  
Lighten the darkness of my mind,  
That I the way to heaven may find.   

To two Parties going to Law about small matters.  
LOok how the steel forceth with several knocks,  
Fire from the flint into the tinderbox,  
So do you smite each other, till you force  
Gold from your own into the lawyer's purse.  
O how like foes they brawl on either side,  
And yet like friends your money they divide,  
Leaving you bare as an Anatomy.  
All that you get you may put in your eye,  
And never see the worse; then take from me  
This Counsel freely, and without a fee,  
Agree between yourselves, and make an end,  
Do you to him, he to you condescend.  
Thus whiles you both unto each other yield,  
You'll both o'ercome, and losing with the field.   

To an envious and malicious person.  
WHy enviest thou thy Neighbour, canst thou tell?  
Is't 'cause in Wealth or worth he doth excel?  
That will not make thee richer than thou art,  
Nor him the poorer, but 'twill vex thy heart;  
That will not make thee better, nor him worse,  
But blessing bring on him, on thee a curse.  
Or why malignest thou thine enemy?  
Is'● 'cause he hath done thee some injury?  
That will not mend the matter, but incense  
Him to a second and more high offence,  
Adding of wrong to wrong. O then be wise,  
And do him all the good thou canst devise,  
So on his head thou shalt heap coals of fire,  
And softly melt his heart to thy desire.  
So Mayst thou make thy foe to be thy friend,  
And whom thou canst not break, thus gently bend.   

To the common Drunkard, falsely called a Good Fellow.  
CAnnot friends meet but they must drink t' excess?  
Must all your mirth conclude in drunkenness?  
Accurst be he brought it in fashion first;  
Before ye were content to quench your thirst,  
And not exceed three or four cups at most;  
Now you carouse till all your reasons lost,  
And like to overheated Dutch men, ye  
Drink till ye fight, and fall to snicker snee.  
He that invites his friend t'a drunken feast,  
Keeps out the man and entertains the beast:  
A feast 'tis not, but a base Bacchanal,  
Where the beast man a Sacrifice doth fall.  
Worse than a beast he is, for no beast will  
Be made to drink a drop more than his fill.  
But man his belly makes a tun, his brain  
A hog, and drinks till up it comes again,  
Vile man, whom God next t' Angels did create,  
Below a Bruit thus to degenerate!  
For shame give o'er this most unmanlike sin,  
Which too long hath thy daily practice been,  
Redeem thine honour drowned in Ale and Wine,  
And thy soul settled on the Lees refine:  
When thy debauched life thou shalt correct,  
Thou happier days in England Mayst expect.   

Upon an old man holding an Infant between his arms of his own begetting.  
HEre nature's contradiction behold,  
The extremity of Ages, young and old,  
The two first Books of Moses, Genesis  
And Exodus bound up together 'tis,  
May sitting in December's lap, the Spring  
With Au●umn joined together in a ring.  
Youth in the bud new started from the womb,  
S●akes hands with age now dropping in the Tomb,  
The world's beginning and the end together,  
The day and night, Sunshine and rainy weather,  
Nonage and dotage, generation  
Met with corruption, and the Creation  
O'th' child the dissolution proves to be  
O'th' father, who destroyed himself whiles he  
Begets a son, and like the Phoenix, from  
His dust and ashes doth another come.   

To one that married a very rich, but a very deformed woman.  
WHo is't that says it was not love  
Which you unto this match did move?  
'Twas love, but love of money sure,  
That thus to wed did you allure;  
'Twas not the beauty which doth lie  
In your wife's cheek, or lip, or eye,  
Or any other part that shines,  
Save only in her golden Mines.  
It were the Angels in her chest  
That first made love within your breast,  
There sit the Cupids, there the Graces  
Reside in those red and white faces.  
In having one wife you have many,  
Each bag a wife is, how then can ye  
Choose but be rich? for such as these  
Bring put to use will soon increase,  
Nor will their b●●u●y fade, for theyare  
At fifty more than fifteen fair,  
As pure good me●tal, as refined  
An age hence, as when they were coined,  
Provided you keep them in bands  
From falling into huckster's hands.  
If Pleasure be not, Profi●'s in  
Your match, Poligamy's no sin.  
In a free S●ate you may be bold  
To marry every piece of Gold,  
Though they so numerous be as will  
The Great Turks vast Seraglio fill.  
Yet take my counsel, look well to them,  
For many chances will undo them;  
They may be called in by the State,  
And valued at a lower rate;  
They may be rounded and defaced,  
Or with worse metal be debased;  
They may perhaps suffer a rape,  
Be plundered from you; should they scape  
These Accidents, yet wings have they  
Like Cupid, and will flee away,  
Leaving you little else behind  
But your sad choice and sadder mind:  
For when your money's gone, your wife.  
Will stay to vex you all your life.   

His opinion concerning disputations in the Country, where the Major part of the Auditory are Illiterate persons.  
'Tis seldom seen a popular dispute  
Doth any good; you may perhaps confute  
But not convert a heretic; he will,  
Say what you can, hold fast his error still.  
Besides, the vulgar Auditors do weigh  
All arguments as their affections sway,  
Not as their reason, and think that the best  
Which with most noise and eagerness is pressed;  
So they adhere unto the worser side,  
Or go away much more unsatisfied  
Than they came there, like some young conjurer's spell,  
Raising more devils up, than he can quell  
Or lay again; like Bees, the common rout  
Will swarm about your ears and buzz you out,  
But hum the Factions up, and loudly cry  
On your Antagonists side, Victory.  
Forbear then such disputes henceforth to move,  
For fear they should the church's ruin prove;  
These points are fitter for the Press or Schooler,  
It is the best way not to answer fools  
According to their folly, which will rise  
Higher by opposing, let alone it dies.   

Upon his late Ague, or the new fever, as it was called.  
WHat a strange thing's this Ague? which doth make  
Me like an earthquake first with cold to shake;  
Then like mount Aetna burn with fervent heat,  
And by and by dissolve into a sweat?  
Sure 'tis some Cacodamon, by his art  
Insinuating himself in every part;  
Now in the head, then in the back it lies,  
Sometimes i'th' stomach, sometimes in the thighs,  
Now like a soldier whom nothing can fray,  
He sets upon me boldly at midday;  
Then like a thief steals on me late at night,  
Or early ere th' approach o'th' morning light.  
Shame of Physicians 'tis, for all their tribe  
Cannot a certain remedy prescribe.  
Faustus or some such Conjurer would be  
The better Doctor in this cure, for he  
Might by his magic charms perhaps expel  
This freezing, burning, swea●ing spirit of hell.  
If then it will no o●her way be gone,  
I will turn Conjurer, but an holy one,  
And with my prayers to heaven exorcise  
This evil spirit thus; Let God arise  
with healing in his wings, and first begin  
To heal my soul's disease and sickness, sin,  
Then let this great Physician apply  
A salve to cure my body's malady;  
Thou that didst legion with a word expel,  
But speak the word, thy servant shall be well.   

The Accident.  
WAs it by negligence, or accident,  
That in my sickness as my servant went  
To warm my bed, some ashes she let fall?  
Neither perhaps, but 'twas prophetical,  
Foretelling that I must to ashes turn,  
And shortly be enclosed in my urn.  
And if that providence hath so decreed,  
Welcome i'th' name of God, let Death succeed  
His elder brother, Sleep, and then give way  
To Life again, such as the saints enjoy.  
Now on my grave I think, and yet not quake,  
Since thence as from my bed I shall awake;  
When I lie down in dust I do not die,  
But take a nap, and rise t' eternity;  
My soul shall reassume its dust again,  
And in a blessed union still remain.   

Upon his Recovery from his Ague.  

WHat shall I render unto thee my God?  
Since thou hast with thy rod  
In measure me corrected, to prevent  
A sharper punishment,  
That I may not condemned be at last,  
And in the lake of fire and brimstone cast?   

Seven violent fits I had, to show that I  
Am mortal, and must die:  
But then such was thy will, I had no more,  
Thou Lord didst me restore  
To health, and having brought me near the grave,  
Declaredst then thy mighty power to save.   

How much thy mercy doth thy justice pass?  
A sinful man I was,  
Seven times a day I have offended thee,  
Yet thou forgavest me;  
Yea though my sins exceed the stars of heaven,  
Yet thou my plagues reduced haste to seven,   

Alas, all seven do scarce to one amount;  
Justly I cannot count  
Them altogether half a plague, they go  
But for a stroke or so,  
And only serve to let me understand  
They come not from a judge, but father's hand.   

A wise and tender father that doth smite  
In mercy not in spite,  
Not to avenge himself, but me t' amend,  
Which is the chiefest end  
In all his chastisements: he will not break  
The bruised reed, not quite o'erthrow the weak.   

But having humbled him, most gently then  
Raiseth him up again.  
O Lord, do so by me, and show thy strength  
In my weak state at length,  
That like a Tree on both sides rocked by th' wind,  
I may grow strong in body and in mind.   

Stronger in both to serve thee, and to give  
Thee thanks that yet I live;  
And let me use this my recovered health,  
Not to increase my wealth,  
Or spend it on my lust, as is men's fashion,  
But to thy glory and mine own salvation.    

Upon a great shower of snow that fell on May day, 1654.  
YOU that are weather-wise, and pretend to know  
Long time before when it will rain or snow,  
When 't will be fair or foul, when hot or cold,  
Here stand and gaze a while, I dare be bold  
To say, you never saw the like; nay more,  
You never heard the like of this before.  
Since Snow in May, you may hereafter make  
A famous Epoch in your almanac.  
Prodigious 'tis, and I begin to fear  
We have mistook the season of the year;  
'Tis Winter yet, and this is Christmas day,  
Which we indeed miscall the first of May.  
Summer and winter now confounded be,  
And we no difference betwixt them see,  
Only the Trees are blossomed, and so  
The Glassonbury Hawthorn used to do,  
Upon the day of Christ's nativity,  
As Cambden tells in his Chorography.  
The youths for cold creep in the Chimneys end,  
Who formerly the day did sprightly spend  
In merry May-games; now they hang the head  
And droop, as if they and their sports were dead.  
Perhaps some superstitious Cavalier,  
That loved to keep his Christmas, will go near  
To make an ill interpretation  
Of this, and call't a judgement on the nation  
For our despising of that time and season  
Against the ancient custom and right reason,  
As he conceives, and since we'll not allow  
One in December w' have a Christmas now,  
But we a better use may make of it;  
And though not to our minds the Weather fit,  
Yet to our souls convert the same, and thence  
Extract this wholesome holy inference.  
From this unseasonable change of weather  
Without us, what's within us we may gather;  
When in our hearts the Summer should begin,  
And graces grow, 'tis Winter by our sin,  
All frost and snow, nothing comes up that's good,  
The fruits o'th' Spirit nipped are in the bud.  
Our May's turned to December, and our Sun  
Declines before he half his course hath run▪  
O thou the Son of righteousness display  
Thy beams of mercy, make it once more May  
Within our souls, let it shine warm and clear,  
Producing in us yet a fruitful year.  
Let it dissolve our snow into a shower  
Of hot and penitent tears, which may procure  
A blessing on the Nation, and at last  
A General pardon for all faults are past.   

The Conclusion. To my dread sovereign And dear Master, CHRIST JESUS, King of Kings.  

THou King of Kings, and Lord of Lords,  
I owe myself and all I have to Thee,  
My Muse no tribute now affords,  
But what first comes from thine own treasury,  
A leaf of praise  
Is all that I can raise.   

And yet that leaf is taken from  
Thy Tree of grace thou graftedst in my heart,  
Accept it then, since it doth come  
From that stock which to me thou didst impart;  
It is thine own,  
To all the world be't known.   

I do confess the ground in which  
'Tis set, is poor, and long hath barren been,  
For how alas, could it be rich,  
When nought but thorns and thistles grew therein?  
O let thy grace  
Above my sins take place,   

And in my heart the upper hand  
Let it still have, a happy victory,  
That I thy Champion may stand  
Undaunted 'gainst all that opposeth thee:  
So whiles I live,  
I shall thee praises give.   

Or if whiles in this Vale I stay,  
To praise thee well will be too hard a thing,  
Then to thy holy hill convey  
My soul, where I may Hallelujahs sing  
In an higher  
And better tuned choir.   
FINIS.