A PULPIT TO BE LET.  Woe to the idle Shepherd that leaveth his Flock, Zechar. XI. 17. 
With a just applause of those worthy Divines that stay with us.  

BEloved; and he sweetly thus goes on,  
Now, where's Beloved? why, Beloved's gone.  
No morning Matins now, nor Evening song:  
Als! the Parson cannot stay so long.  
With Clarkenwell it fares as most in town,  
The light-heeled Levit's broke, and the Spark flown;  
Broke did I say? they ne'er had quit the place,  
Had they but set up with a spark or grace!  
They did the Pulpit as a Coffin greet,  
And took the Surplice for a Winding-sheet.  
Had that so scared them? at the Bells sad tolls,  
They might have laid them by, and learned of Paul's.  
But, for their parts, Who will? come in their rooms.  
They are not mad, to live among the Tombs.  
Sec how they choose three months to fly the rod;  
And dare not fall into the hands of God.  
For God of persons no respecter is.  
Then to respect themselves (pray?) is't amiss?  
They that should stay, and teach us to reform,  
Gird up their loins, and run to 'scape the storm;  
And winged with with fear, they flee to save their lives  
Like Lot, from Sodom, with their brats, and wives.  
●his is Tribe, that for his punishments  
●●ar God; But keep not his Commandments.  
They dread the Plague, and dare not stand its shock;  
Let Wolves, or Lions feed the fainting Flock.  
●hey made the Sheep the subject, now, men say,  
Not so much of their prayer, as their prey.  
But they are gone to have (it now appears)  
The Country hear them with their harvest-ears.  
Whilst here at home, we find Christ's saying true,  
The harvest great is, but the labourers few.  
Yet, like enough, the heat o'th' day being o'er,  
You'll have them here again at the 'leventh hour.  
Think you these men believe with holy Paul,  
For them, to be dissolved, is best of all?  
Then, their own bodies they would never mind,  
More than the souls of those they left behind.  
Who now? those sons of Aaron being fled,  
Shall Stand between the living and the dead?  
We have at home the Plague, abroad the Sword;  
And will they add the famine of the word?  
But 'tis no matter, let what will, befall,  
A Recantations Sermon pays for all.   
Ne saeve, magne Sacerdos!  

For you that stay, I have another sense;  
These I revile, but you I reverence.  
You have stood firm, and God of mercy craved,  
And holding out unto the end are saved.  
You the true shepherds are, that would not keep  
Your lives a minute, would they save the Sheep.  
Not hirelings, that away in peril sneak,  
And leave the stomes out of the wall to speak:  
Whose heinous guilt is of a die so deep,  
It makes the dead even through the marble weep.  
You, you have stood to't, as unmoved, as Rocks,  
And proved yourselves the only Orthodox;  
You have at Christ's command handed your lives,  
Without Excuse of Oxen, Farms, or Wives;  
To you shall therefore glorious crowns be given,  
And you shall shine bright as the Stars in heaven.  
Of life and death before you, well you choose:  
For, who will lose, shall save, will save, shall lose.  
With reverence to the sacred Word, I shall  
My theme an Emblem of the Bible call:  
For the Canonical, are those that stay,  
They that obscure, are the Apocrypha,  
Of whom a man shall make (nay even S. john)  
No Revelation, till the plague be gone.  
Well, let them march; we have the better bread:  
The Wheat's the purer, now the Cheff is fled.  
Farewell wild Grapes; for my part let'em pass,  
The Glean better than the Vintage was.  
And let Apostates ramble where they will.  
The Church reserves her better Angels still  
Which she embraces; for, in vain she cares  
For wand'ring Planets, that has fixed Stars.   
Pralucendo perco.   

LONDON, Printed for the Author, in the year 1665.