A wonderful Prophecy declared by Christian James, a Maid of twenty two years of age, (late Daughter to Dan. James) who was born and bred near unto the Town which is called Padstow, in the County of Cornwall, who departed this life upon the 8. of Mar. With the true Relation of her behaviour, both in her life time, and at the hour of her death, worthy to be had in memory,  
The tune is, in Summer time  
 

THe mighty Lord that rules in heaven,  
strange wonders doth to England send  
And many warnings hath us given,  
'cause we our sinful lives may mend:  
But like the misbeléeving Jews,  
so hard of heart our people be,  
They think that nothing can be true  
but that which their own eyes do see.  
Wherefore good people mark it well,  
i'll here lay open to your view,  
A Song most wonderful and strange,  
and can approve it to be true;  
A Damosel did near Padstow dwell,  
within the County of Cornwall fair,  
Whose Parents had no child but her,  
she was her Father's only Heir.  
To whom came many a brave young man  
intending to make her a Wife,  
But never tempting tongue could make  
this Maid to change her maiden life:  
And though her Parents riches had,  
and costly garments her allowed,  
In comely habit she would go,  
and always hated to be proud.  
She ne'er was heard to curse or swear,  
nor any word of anger give,  
But courteous was in every thing,  
to them that did about her live:  
If she heard any one to swear,  
or take Gods sacred Name in vain,  
She told him that they crucified,  
our Saviour Jesus Christ again.  
She often did frequent the Church,  
and also did relieve the poor,  
The Widow and the Fatherless  
she every day fed at the door:  
Upon a time this Damosel she  
fell sick, and in a deadly swound,  
She lay for twenty hours' space,  
no life in her could then be found.  
Her aged Father did lament,  
her Mother she shed many a tear,  
She wept, she wailed, she wrung her hands,  
for loss of this her Daughter dear:  
Alas, alas, my child she said,  
how dearly have I tendered thee?  
And wilt thou now forsake the world,  
and leave me in this misery?  
I w●uld thy birth had been my death,  
than never had I seen this day,  
This grievous moan the Mother made  
by her dear Daughter as she lay:  
At last she did strong waters fetch,  
and rubs her Temples and each Vein,  
Till at the last th● Damosel had  
recovered life and sense again.  
And being come unto her speech,  
with voice most shrill aloud she cried,  
O Mother you have done me wrong,  
this cannot be by you denied:  
For I was in the way to Heaven,  
two glorious Angels did me guide,  
Who gently took me by the hand,  
and held me up on every side,  
SInging of Psalms and spiritual Songs,  
so long as we passed on the way,  
Till one that had a golden Crown;  
met us, and caused me to stay;  
Return, said he, from whence thou cam'st,  
thy Mother for thee makes great moan,  
And tell these things which I declare,  
unto thy neighbours every one.  
Speak, this (quoth he) unto them all,  
how that the Lord e'er long will send  
A grievous punishment to them  
that daily do his will offend:  
This is the last age of the world,  
even the very sink of sin,  
The puddle of iniquity,  
which you long time have wallowed in.  
The Men and Wives live in discord,  
the Father envies his own Son,  
The rich, the poor, the old, the young,  
do hourly into mischief run:  
Extortions and Idolatry,  
and hateful pride is now in use,  
Blasphemous Oaths and Curses vile,  
the people count as no abuse.  
God's Ministers are set at naught,  
the Sabbath is profaned also,  
The poor lies starving in the street,  
oppressed with sorrow grief and woe:  
The loathsome sin of Drunkenness.  
and Whoredom doth too much exceed,  
He that can do his Neighbour wrong,  
doth think he doth a godly deed.  
Now ponder therefore what I say,  
Dooms dreadful day is near at hand,  
Wildfire and Brimstone shall destroy,  
the Heaven, the Earth, the Sea, and Land,  
And every Soul before the Lord  
a just account he then shall give,  
His Conscience shall a witness be.  
in what condition he did live.  
Then he that hath done well, shall pass  
forthwith to everlasting rest,  
And live among those glorious Saints,  
which Jesus Christ our Lord hath blest?  
Where Martyrs, Prophets, & Patriarches,  
do hallelujahs ever sing,  
Glory and honour be to God,  
and unto Christ our heavenly King.  
Then woe to them that have done ill,  
when they shall hear the Sentence past,  
Depart ye cursed into Hell,  
whose fire for evermore shall last;  
The sorrows that are here foretold,  
will come on you ere it be long,  
Except repentance truly dwell,  
in hearts of all both Old and Young,  
Repentance and true watery eyes,  
will help to quench the burning flame,  
Which God hath kindled to consume,  
this wicked worlds most rotten frame?  
Let not your buildings all so brave  
be burnt and wasted with God's ire,  
Nor let your souls for whom Christ died,  
be burnt in Hell's eternal Fire.  
Here endeth the Prophecy.   

These Speeches spoke, the Maiden died,  
and came no more to life again,  
Her Seul no doubt is gone to Heaven,  
with glorious Angels to remain;  
At her decease an harmony  
of music there was heard to sound,  
which ravished all the standers by,  
it did with sweetness so abound.  
It pierced the Earth, the Air also,  
yet no man knew from whence it came,  
But each one said it came from Heaven,  
and presently upon the same,  
The Magistrates of that fame Parish,  
which heard and saw this wonder strange,  
Desired to have it put in Print,  
'cause wicked Men their ways might change,  
The Names of the Masters of the Parish that saw the Maid on her deathbed and heard the words of the Prophecy which she delivered, were as followeth. W. Wat's Curate T. Davis, Head Constable, R. Wilkins, and C. Tanner, Churchwardens; who By the consent of divers others in the same Parish, which were in presence at the Damosels Decease; caused a Letter to be written and sent from thence to London, on purpose to have it Printed, whereby to avoid all scandal.   
March 8,  Contrived into Meeter by L. P,  

London, Printed for J. Wright, at the Globe in Little-Brittain.