The Great Assize; Or, Christ's certain and sudden appearance to Judgement. Being serious considerations on these Four Things, Death, Judgement, Heaven, and Hell. By Mr. Stevens, Minister. To the Tune of, Aim not too high, etc. Licenced according to Order. depiction of Christ in glory depiction of hell mouth HEre is presented, clearly to the eye, A little World, new made most gloriously, To day here stands proud man like flowers spirit; But look to morrow, and he's weathered quite. How happily might fallen man have lived, For ever, had he not his Maker grieved: His numerous Offspring never would espy, Through that black Curtain of Mortality. Alas how fast the days of man pass by, Swifter than Weaver's Shuttle they do fly; As soon as Death does end his days so soon, Man must appear before the great Tribune. Death will no succour to a King afford, For difference make 'twixt Beggar and a Lord; For Beauty, Riches, favour shall obtain, He'll take no Bribes to linger out their pain. Methusalem you see by Death was told, That die he must, tho' he was ne'er so old, Like Fruit, when almost ripe, Storms can it shake; So Youth, when almost Man, Death may him take. The Rich Man trusting to his Riches. And yet, how proud Man is this side the Grave! As if he never should an Exit have; (Vaunting poor Worm) and up and down the world His busy carping thoughts with care is hurled. He's wealthy grown, and proud of bags of treasure, Trusting in Riches; raking all the pleasure His heart can wish for; nay, he does control The checks of Conscience to his precious Soul: Says to himself, Soul, take thine ease, and spend Thy time in mirth, ne'er think it will have end: Thus! thus! the Sinner does abuse his God, And chooses Vice, instead o' th' virtuous Rod. He Swears, & Damns, & imprecates God's wrath, To strike him dead; but ah! to die he's loath: He Damns his very Soul, were it not just That God should do so too, and say, Be cursed? Roaring and Ranting is his Hellish Note, Qauffing so long until his senses float, Drunk, like a Beast, he staggers up and down, Sleeps like a Hog, and is a Devil grown. But Oh! if God thus angered, ready be To say, thou Fool, I do require of thee, Thy soul, this night, come, give a just account To what thy Stewardship does now amount. How dumb & senseless would he stand, to see Hell ready to devour him presently, Calls to the Rocks, and strives to get a place, Therein to hide him from God's angry face. But yet, suppose God suffers him to live, Adds mercy unto mercy, and does give Him yet a longer time of life, and tries, If he'll Repent before death shuts his eyes. He sees that time runs round like to a wheel, And wrinkled Years upon his brow does steal. Besides grey hairs on's crazy head doth grow, Scattered it lies like to a drift of Snow, skeleton in the grave A foggy dimness doth his sight assail, Striking into his head, his eyes they fail, His tongue does falter, and his hands they shake, And with the Palsy every limb does quake. His glass most run, he's even out of breath, Ready to yield his life to conquering death, Who will no longer favour his old age, But is resolved in his death engage. If peeps behind the Curtain in his face, Then draws the Schene, then breauful is his case, His tongue does quiver, and his veins does start, Like sticks asunder; nay his very heart Ceases its motion, with his vitals, soon, And now alas! he's colder than a stone: His Kinsfolks dear his dying eyes do shut, So from his Bed he's in a Coffin put. Thus ends his Earthl'y splendour, and his pleasure ' Wife, Children, Kinsfolk, and his bags of treasure, Are left behind, enjoy the same estate A little while, but follow must his fate. Nay, they're not sure to keep it half a day, For Death does oft sweep Families away, The Infants instantly bereaved of Mother, Husband from Wife, the Sister from her Brother. Behold this figure, see the glass does run, Therefore Repent before thy time is gone, Both Young and Old have this before your eyes, You're born to happiness or miseries. O therefore wretched man this very day, Strive by Repenting tears to wash away Thy sins, and then no doubt thy Lord will be In love and mercy reconciled to thee. The manner of Christ's coming at the Day of Judgement. Serene, like as the days of Noah were, So shall the coming of God's Son appear, Eating and Drinking, men will merry make, And carnal Souls Security will take. And like the thief who cometh in the night, So will the Son of Man in glory bright, Come down with numerous Angels, and the sound, Of trumpets shrill, whose voice unnerves the ground The dead arise, Lord, what a horror here Is to the wicked, who must straight appear, And come to Judgement, O how this begins, To bring to mind their many wretched Sins. O what sad shrieks they make, and clamorous cries, To see Hell gaping just before their eyes, The heavens to melt away with fervent heat, The Earth a burning underneath their feet. The Blessed State of the Godly. But happy, ever happy are the Sheep Of Christ, who joy for evermore will keep, When he shall say to Saints, come come thee hither, You of my chosen Flock, blest of the Father. The kingdom now enjoy for you prepared Before the heavens were made or world was reared, Oh what soul ravishing sweet news is this. Angels attend them presently to bliss. The miserable State of the wicked. But dark! what grief the Damned does attend, Who have no Advocate to stand their Friend, Sentence must passed be, go, go to dwell In Firey Burnings in the Lake of Hell. Depart with Devils which did you entice To hate your Saviour, and cleeve to Vice, Go to that Everlasting Pit, and lie Howling with Firey Fiends perpetually. O what a wretched sight 'twill be to see The Devils dragging them to misery, Husbands to see their Wives conveyed to Bliss, Whilst they 'mongst Damned, quite Salvation miss. Son from the Father, Father from the Son, Must partest be in the great Day of Doom, Praising of God, and own it to be just, Their own Relations are with Devils cursed. The Godly they to Heaven take their flight, Whilst wicked take their course to Hell outright, Lord let us watch continually; and pray That we may be prepared for that Great Day. Give us Repentance, that while here we live, We may the offers of thy Son receive, Then feed our souls, good God, with thy rich Grace, That we may stand before our Saviour's Face. Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden-Ball in Pie-corner, near West-Smithfield.