THE Court Convert: OR, A Sincere Sorrow for SIN, Faithfully TRAVERSED; Expressing the Dignity of a True Penitent. Drawn in Little by ONE, whose Manifold Misfortunes Abroad, have rendered him Necessitated, to seek for Shelter Here; By Dedicating Himself and this small POEM.  
By H. A. Gent.  
Printed for the Author.   

TO THE HONOURED joseph Boyeck Esqr:  
Sr  
THE Author's Condition being at present on a Level, and the Basis of his former Fortune Overthrown, to get Clear of the Dilemma, and prevent his future Interment in the Ruins; Humbly takes leave to Dedicate this small Poem (the Offspring of a Penny-less Muse) to Your kind Acceptance: Having nothing in this Iron Age, wherewith to support him, but a Feeble Quill. He knows it is not Practicable to Trade for Wealth in the Poet's Territories, he might as well depend on the Wheel of Fortune for a Benefit, which only Turns to the advantage of her Favourites, than Fish for Pearl in the Muses Helicon, where are only Wrecks, and no Riches; he has only played a little about the Brink; which, if not we done, is submitted to Correction: But, believing the spirit of Goodness and true Humility, resides in your Generous Breast, as Rich Gemm in a Noble Cascate, he is Encouraged to Lay this the aforesaid Brat a● your Hospitable gate; for they whose Estimate of Men, and things Proceed not from a Blind and Popular Applause; Lives u●most near the Example of our SAVIOUR who, when on Earth Declined the Conversation of a Proud Tetrarch, for that of a Poor Lazer, and Valued more the Holy acts of an Humble Fisher, than all the Great and Heroic Deeds of a Haughty Caesar.  
I am Your Honour's most Dutiful Servant, Henry Anderson   

THE COURT CONVERT.  

DEluding World, which hath so long amused,  
And with false Shapes my dreaming Soul abused;  
tyrannic Court, where simple Mortals buy,  
With Life and Fortune, splendid Slavery;  
henceforth Adieu; my goodly Stock of Years,  
●aid out for that, I now lament with Tears.  
Monarches, who with amazing Splendour glare,  
●nd Favourites, who their Reflections are;  
●oth shine, 'tis true, but 'tis like Glass they do;  
●rittle as that, and made of Ashes too:  
The Hour is set, wherein they must disown  
The Royal Pomp, the Treasure, and the Throne:  
The dazzling Lustre of Majestic State  
Shall be extinguished by the Hand of Fate;  
Highness must stoop into the hollow Grave,  
And keep sad Court in a cold dampish Cave.  
Beauty, and jovial Youth, decays apace;  
Age still, and Sickness, oft doth both deface,  
The Favourite whom all adore and fear,  
Whose Strength doth so unshakable appear,  
It's but a Tower built on flitting Sands,  
No longer than the Tempest sleepeth, stands:  
Nor can the Calm of Fortune long insure;  
Or Monarch's Favour, crazy Man secure:  
We moulder of ourselves, and soon or late,  
We must resign beloved Life to Fate.  
From stately Palaces we must remove,  
The narrow Lodging of a Grave to prove:  
Leave the fair Train, and the light-guilded Room,  
To lie alone benighted in the Tomb.  
GOD only is Immortal; Man not so:  
Life to be paid, upon demand, we owe.  
The rigid Laws of Fate, with none dispense,  
From the least Beggar, to the greatest Prince.  
The crooked Sith, that no Distinction knows,  
Monarches, and Slaves, indifferently mows.  
One Day we'd pity those we now admire,  
When after all the Glory they acquire;  
When after all the famous Conquests they have made,  
Fierce Death their Laurels in the Dust hath laid.  
Those Heads and Hands, which States and Princes steer,  
Who Rule in Peace, and Conquer in the War,  
Shall, by a sad, and certain Change of State,  
Be doomed a Prize to Death, and rigid Fate:  
Then be no more; their very Name will die  
To Fame, unless preserved by History.  
'Tis Heaven's Great KING alone, whom Angels serve  
Who does our Hearts, our Care, our Love, deserve;  
To HIM all's due, there's nought at our command,  
But must be paid at his Divine Demand:  
To HIM the Christian ought to make his Court,  
His Love the only Matter of Import:  
Not, but that Honour must to Kings be paid,  
Being by Heaven, heavens Vicegerents made;  
To such we dedicate our Hearts and Hands,  
With due Submission to their just Commands;  
And their unjust ones, though we cannot do,  
We must the Mulct, with Patience, undergo:  
'tis Sacrilege (in any Case) to pry  
●nto the Godlike Power of Majesty;  
And mere Typheon insolence to strive,  
Law to a King, with lawless Arms to give.  
But all good Subjects should adore the Hand,  
By which Kings, and the Crowns they wear, do stand;  
And while the Earth's great Master we revere,  
Pay Homage also to the Thunderer;  
To GOD, whom Kings obey; whose Bounty gave  
Their Sceptres, Crowns, and all the Goods they have:  
To GOD, whose Sunbeams guilded Royal State,  
And Glory gives to each great Monarch's Fate;  
With whose unknown, but to HIM easy, Skill,  
Manages Powers, and Princes as HE will.  
Now for to get in favour with this Prince,  
There needs no more, but simple Innocence:  
No Honour at his Court is bought with Gold;  
But for cheap Love are all Preferments sold:  
And in proportion to the Love you bring,  
You shall have Power from the KING of Kings:  
With a good Stock of Love there one may climb,  
To a great Fortune, in a little time.  
Nor is it hard methinks to love a GOD,  
Who is himself so Loving, and so Good.  
In other Courts a Man doth lose himself,  
Oft for a little, and long drudged for Pelf;  
In Business bearing an uncertain State,  
Made void (sometimes) by Envy, or by Hate,  
Rendering Possession of too short a Date.  
For as a Dropsy makes the Body grow,  
(At the same time, that it brings Nature low)  
O'erwhelmed with Water, choked with Wind,  
So Wealth at once swells up, and starves the Mind;  
●t GOD, the Soul's Capacity doth fill;  
●is Bounty overflows Man's boundless Will:  
●nd since the Earth cannot our Nature bless,  
●nd the great World's too little for the less,  
●is boundless Self he gives us, is so good  
(As Romans hold) the Sacramental Food  
●o regale us, with's Body and His Blood,  
With Heavenly Manna, Angels tasteful Meat,  
The same he gave His loving Twelve to Eat:  
himself the Treater, and Himself the Treat.  
Come all that Hunger to the Royal Feast;  
Come every one and wear the Nuptial Vest:  
●et the King's Splendour dash, or dazzle none;  
Or being Mean, discourage any one.  
●our Host is known to be as Meek, as Great;  
And will alike the King and Beggar treat.  
Spare not his Board, you cannot make him poor;  
The more he gives, the greater is his Store:  
His Bounty, like his Treasure's unconfined,  
By giving, still to Give the more inclined.  
Come then, and crowd into his Royal Court,  
And to the Source of Goodness all resort.  
Love H I M, whose Goodness Words cannot express;  
And whose Ail-flowing Bounty is not less;  
Lift up your Reason then, and have a care,  
No foolish worldly Baubles enter there:  
With such Precaution you'll acquire his Grace,  
And purchase in his glorious Court a Place,  
Where you will bless the Day you first awoke,  
The happy Time in which your Slumber broke:  
Crowds of all Blessings will your Hearts invade,  
And your fresh blooming Joys will never fade.  
No more the Storms of Princes you will fear,  
That cause so many Wrecks, and Wretches here,  
Where in a Moment all the Cargoes lost,  
Which your whole Stock of anxious Care has cost;  
One Day [with GOD] affords you more Content,  
Than twenty Lives, in Courts of Princes spent;  
An angry Word, a 'Slight, a gloomy Frown,  
Will be enough to cast a Courtier down:  
●f he would beg a Favour of his King,  
Let his Request be ne'er so mean a thing,  
A hundred Journeys he must undertake,  
His Suit to this and that great Courtier make:  
Thousands of Legs, and Cringes it will cost;  
●nd after all, perhaps his LaboursLabours lost.  
●ut with GOD's Votaries it is not so;  
We cannot ask so fast, as He'll bestow;  
His EAR is still, to hear our Suits, inclined,  
And to each Suitor daily proveth kind.  
HE often hears, before we are aware,  
And our least Wants by HIM considered are;  
The smallest Hair falls not beside HIS Care.  
On HIM we cannot our good Thoughts displace,  
Unless we madly throw away HIS Grace.  
Only to Him our Hearts should yield the Sway,  
And not, by false Obedience, Heaven betray:  
For first GOD doth what he would have us do,  
Love with a Love, beyond Example true:  
His Charming Law is LOVE, His Yoke is sweet,  
Both for the King and poorest Beggar meet:  
Easie and Light, alike to Great and Small,  
And the same Hire proposed to them all.  
Of Monarches, he to Him is Great alone,  
Who to himself becomes a Little One.  
The only Greatness which poor Man can have,  
●s to be here his Great Redeemer's Slave:  
That King that doth not heavens just King obey,  
A Traitor is himself to Majesty.  
The simple Shepherd, who with chaste Desire,  
The cheerful Innocence to Heaven aspires:  
The honest painful Labourer, who sweats  
●rom Morn to Night, to get the Bread he eats;  
●f he serves Heaven, is indeed more Great  
Than Kings, with all their Pride and Purple State.  
Thrice brave those Monarches, who had dared to fly  
●rom all th' alluring Charms of Majesty;  
Lay down the Sword, their conquering Troops forsake,  
Unarmed alone the Heaven of Heavens t'attack,  
A Holy War with Hosts of Pleasures wage,  
●nd though the Flesh did for the Foe engage,  
Triumphed over Foreign and Domestic Rage.  
Thrice blest are those, who fled from being Great,  
From Courts to safer Cottages retreat:  
Heaven kindly doth their humble Thoughts defeat;  
For Greatness, while they strive to shun, they meet.  
They are made Great, and so more glorious Kings,  
By being just, than by all earthly Things.  
Ah! how we win, in losing for our GOD,  
While Heaven is gained for a poor sorry Clod  
Of Earth: When for a short Grief here endured,  
We are of Everlasting Joys assured:  
Since for one Pleasure we refuse our Sense,  
We shall have Millions for our Recompense.  
Poor abused Men, unlucky Flock, they stray  
Without the Shepherd, void of the right Way.  
Unthinking Souls, that perish with Delight,  
Which all the Threats of Heaven cannot affright:  
F●r sure those Pains, which do on Sin attend,  
●ins which begin, but never must have end;  
●●e immaterial Fire that burneth still,  
●●t to their great Misfortune cannot kill;  
●he Devil's Dungeon, and all sorts of Pain,  
●hich Human Fortitude cannot sustain,  
●ight (one would think) men's brutish Courage shake,  
●nd in our Souls a noble Fear awake:  
●●t if the Racks of Hell can't Sin subdue,  
●ffer the Lord of Hosts to conquer you;  
●●pose Him not unwisely, but embrace  
●●e favourable Offers of his Grace:  
●●store Him to the Kingdom of your Hearts,  
●●st without Mercy, by the Devil's Arts:  
●he old usurper's lawless Power disown,  
●epose the hellish Tyrant from the Throne;  
●●d let King JESUS reign in it alone.  
His Law is much more easy to observe,  
Than those o'th' World (which yet we gladly serve  
It neither hurts the Body, nor the Mind;  
But is indeed to one and t'other kind:  
A Check sometimes it may afford to Sense;  
But is, at length, it's own Benevolence.  
O Divine Law! O easy Law of Love!  
Let ME observe thee, and thy Wages prove:  
But then i'th' World a hundred Laws there be,  
Void of all Sense, but full of Tyranny;  
Where foppish Form, our Liberty restrains,  
And cripples us with false fantastic Chains.  
You must pretend to Love whom you Detest;  
Fawn on the Great One, when by him oppressed;  
With sneering Praise gild o'er his blackest Crimes,  
And all those Humours which debauch the Times:  
●sk your Displeasure with a smiling Face,  
●●d swear you're highly pleased with your Disgrace;  
●●iumph in show, when you are overthrown,  
●●d all your Discontents and Griefs disown;  
●●tting off quite (with base uneasy Art)  
●●e honest Commerce of the Mouth and Heart.  
●●hameful Slavery of poor Mankind,  
●●worthy of a Man, or Christian Mind!  
●●●tead of CHRIST, whom always we should own,  
●●●se Tyranny and Passion we enthrone;  
●●●nging to those that from all Virtue run,  
●● serve a thousand Masters in their turn.  
●●e crowded Way of Vice could never show  
〈◊〉 Pleasure, which true Virtue doth bestow;  
●●●m Innocence a native Joy accrues,  
〈◊〉 wracking Sorrow always Gild pursues.  
The Ill Man's never Quiet nor Content;  
The Good is full of Cheer, ●ho Penitent.  
His inward Calm upon his Brow appears,  
And Halcyon like, no blustering Storm he fears.  
Him, all the Turns of Fate's prepared to find,  
Meets Frowns and Favours with an equal Mind.  
If Sickness warns him of approaching Death,  
Or Fortune robs him of his worldly Wealth,  
It cannot his unshaken Courage move,  
Who, above Earth, hath placed in Heaven his Love  
His Health, his Riches, and his sole Delight,  
Is here to serve his GOD with all his Might;  
And that great Master faithfully to trace,  
Whose Death was Triumph, Pleasure a Disgrace;  
He loved the Cross; O Cross! O happy Wood!  
That once was manured with our Saviour's Blood,  
And moistened with his Tears, with Tears of Grief,  
Whilst He that shed them, died for our Relief;  
Whose all-revenging Death [by th' Cross] did quell  
Th' usurped Force of Sin, and Power of Hell;  
The Stygian Monster's Power, and so set free  
●enowned Heroes from Captivity.  
'twas by this Cross that he to Heaven did climb,  
●nd ordered all Mankind to follow HIM.  
● Cross! O CHRIST! O Wounds! O Streams of Blood!  
● KING! to your ungrateful Slaves too Good!  
●y Heart's Delight, my lingering Soul's Desire,  
●y Love, that burns me with a Jambent Fire.  
●y JESUS! Blessed Body, and his Blood,  
●rought down from Heaven above to be Man's Food:  
●our LOVE, I find, does to such height amount,  
●y Gratitude is lost in the Account.  
When Punishment was to my Actions due,  
Amazing Favours my Misdeeds ensue;  
Instead of being by your Justice thrust,  
With sudden Thunder, into native Dust:  
While with my Works I earned the Fire of Hell,  
And Satan triumphed o'er my wretched Will;  
When I provoked your Justice with the height  
Of base Ingratitude, and Earth's Delight,  
You did even then, O depth of Goodness! deign,  
My Heart of all innated Vice to drain;  
Which first, in being Yours, was truly blest,  
Till I (vile Wretch) my MASTER dispossessed:  
YOU were its Lord, its Monarch; and what more?  
Vouchsafed t' espouse a thing so mean and poor,  
To the expense of Your dear Blood and Breath;  
Your purple Sweat and Tortures, worse than Death,  
So dear it cost YOU; yet I bore away,  
Tho you have (once more) made the Wretch your Prey.  
Dear Lord, I wandered in the Paths of Vice,  
And groped on blindfold to the Precipice:  
●nstead of loving YOU, the only Good,  
〈◊〉 made each empty Vanity my God:  
But, O Excess of Mercy! YOU repay,  
With Grace and Gifts Your Slave's black Treachery,  
Whom the false World, and falser Court deceived;  
Whom Sin and Satan wretchedly enslaved.  
What dismal Blindness did possess my Mind,  
●or silly short-lived Toys to have resigned  
A blessed Eternity; and you dear Lord,  
Who can a real heavenly Good afford!  
Eyes, on my Cheeks let trickling Tears run down,  
Your guilty selves in your own Waters drown.  
False Guides, that led me to the Hunter's Snare;  
When by myself, left wholly to your Care:  
Ah poor, ambitious, fond, deluded Sight,  
Thus on the sorry Creature to delight!  
Your Fellow-Slave, a Bit of Earth, a Dream,  
Even a poor wretched Nothing to esteem.  
For what avails a Mitre or a Crown,  
Or all that here a Man can call his own?  
Those whom our fawning Flatterers call Great,  
Whom base Mankind prostrate at their Feet,  
In the Divine Eternal Glass appear  
As little as the meanest Mortal here.  
When th' Eye in Darkness sets, and Life's warm Fire  
With th' Ice of Death, in Sorrow doth expire;  
What matters Gold, by some Men so adored?  
What Pleasure will a starry Crown afford?  
This Garb ill fits a pale and lifeless Head,  
And that bright Metal shines not to the Dead;  
Corruption then will not forbear its Prey,  
For fear of dead and helpless Majesty;  
Nor will that Lustre, which amazed poor Man,  
Dazzle the Legions of bold Vermin then:  
Alas! There's no Distinction in the Grave,  
Between the greatest King and meanest Slave:  
All Flesh is there unto one Change designed,  
And leaves all worldly Goods and Fame behind.  
But different Fates the righteous Souls attend,  
From theirs that here do make a wicked End.  
Those of the Good, to Heaven's Great King repair,  
The unknown Pleasures of his Court to share,  
●n Peace and glorious Triumph to enjoy  
The Fruit of their laborious Victory:  
But those who lodged in Bodies, did defy,  
With unrepented Crimes, the Deity,  
Condemned to Chains, and hopeless of Relief,  
Die to all Bliss, but ever live to Grief.  
It is a doleful Scene, to see base Man  
Provoke his patient MAKER all he can;  
eat Happiness, so easy to be won,  
And take a world of Pains to be undone;  
Even employ his whole Life-long, to buy  
A wretched Right to endless Misery.  
Thus he, who studies to indulge his Earth,  
And quite neglects the Meaning of his Birth,  
Into the gaping Jaws of Satan runs,  
And the inviting Arms of JESUS shuns:  
Those Arms that stand still open to receive  
All weary Prodigals that Sin do leave;  
Arms full of Love and Pity, which display,  
Even to Foes and Traitors, Sanctuary:  
●or those he left his Father's bright Abode,  
Made Son of Man, to make Man Son of GOD.  
To cure their Wounds, He Life's Elixir bled,  
And died a Death, to raise them from the Dead.  
Dear JESUS, who with such a charming Art,  
●ath softened and reduced Man's sinful Heart;  
Did likewise, on the Day the Church renews  
The Annual Obsequies of her dead Spouse,  
●rom worldly Vice her Votary set free,  
●nd from the Court an● World delivered me:  
●o from myself, thus freed, didst after deign,  
●o bind me with your Love's enlarging Chain:  
●or such your Favours, show me but the way,  
●ood Lord, my due Acknowledgement must pay.  
●OU had the Goodness, for my sake, to die,  
Which I, for YOU, will do most willingly:  
And since my Life cannot suffice to pay  
For the least Breath of that You gave away;  
I wish the Lives of all the World were mine,  
That all, for Your dear sake, I might resign.  
But a rend Heart, since You will not despise,  
And a bruised Reed, to You in Sacrifice,  
My Prayers I humbly offer; and adore  
The GOD that doth accept a Gift so poor.  
I love You, Lord, as bedrid Men love Health,  
Close Prisoners Freedom, or starved Beggars Wealth  
My Soul thirsts after Thee, pure Spring of Good,  
As the chased Deer after a cooling Flood.  
Nor do I love You for your HEAVEN; no,  
For Your blessed sake all Comfort I'll forego.  
The sharpest Pain from thence will easy be,  
And nought but HELL can be a Grief to me.   
FINIS.