^^^feI2Z "^^ ♦\ X- . ^ J t/i. THE SCHOOL OF THE HEART; THE HEART OF ITSELF GOXE AWAY FROM GOD: BROUGHT BACK AGAIN TO HEM; AND .INSTRUCTED BY HIM. €^e acaming of xf}t ?^eart ; AND HIEROGLYPHICS OF THE LIFE OF MAX. FRANCIS QUARLES, LONDON : PRINTED FOR THOMAS TEGG, 73, CHEAPSIDE. V MDCCCXLV. LOS don: BRADBCRT AND EYAKS, PRINTERS, WHITtFRlAES. -ywL-ry n ADVERTISEMENT. PURSUANT to the notice given in the new Edition of his " Emblems,'' an edition of equal elegance of Quarles' School of the Heart, with his Hieroglyphics OF THE Life of Man, is now offered to the public. The pretensions of the work, intrinsically estimated, need not be enumerated now. Pope has declared, and justly too, that *' The proper study of mankind, is— man." Preparatory to any due or salutary proficiency in this study, however, the inquirer must direct his serious attention to that celebrated precept of the Pythian Apollo — " Nosce teipsum;" a precept so happily expanded by another of our national poets, Young, where he exclaims, " Man, know thyself ! all wisdom centres there." IV ADVERTISEMENT. To know what man is, then, we must know his HEART. But this lesson man cannot teach man. He must teach this, who only can ; yet who still " saves all beings but himself, That hideous sight— a naked human heart !" The School of the Heart, therefore, is the Word of God! They can never attain to right views of man- kind, who have not studied the heart of man ; nor can they ever form just conceptions of the nature of the human heart, who have not consulted the inspired description of it. Our Author thus :— Great Searcher of The Heart I whose boundless sight Discovers secrets, and doth bring to light The hidden things of darkness ; who alone Perfectly know'st all things that can be known ; Thou know'st I do not, cannot, have no mind To know mine heart ; I am not only blind. But lame, and listless : thou alone canst make Me able, willing ; and the pains I take, As well as the success, must come from thee. Who workest both to will and do in me. ****** Lord ! if thou wilt, thou canst impart this skill ; And as for other learning, take 't who will. Introductiom " The pride and ignorance of mankind," says the Rev, C. E. De Coetlogon, in a Preface to one edition ADVERTISEMENT. V of this work, " may lead them to reason against this humbling, and, what they are pleased to term, gloomy representation of things I But," he asks, " how ab- surd to reason against stubborn fact ? We appeal to that," he adds ; " and to experience. We appeal to reason, as well as to revelation : and both, we are persuaded, will tell us — that those who prate about the dignity of human nature, and its moral excellence, until it be renewed after the image of God, which sin has obliterated, are only indulging the pleasures of imagination ; " and that, accordingly, such characters still " need much instruction in " — the school of the HEART. The Hieroglyphics of the Life of Man are so complete a picture of human nature, that we need only recommend them to the serious perusal of per- sons in every situation in life ; and emphatically add, MAN! LEARN TO KNOW THYSELF. ^% ( JUST PUBLISHED, In one beautiful Miniature Volume, to correspond with this Work, and enriched with Seventy-nine Embellishments, IBmblems, DIVINE AND MORAL. BY FRANCIS QUARLES. " Quarles and his Poetry are too well known, in the reUgious world, to need our encomium. His sentiments are evangelical, and his poetry is full of points of wit. The present edition is beautifully printed by Bkadbdrt and Evans, and embellished with very pretty engravings on wood." — Evangelical Magazine. " Criticism accords in giving to the author of these EMBLEMS the praise of profound knowledge, solid vdsdom, and fervent de- votion. He deserves more. His wit was bright, his discrimina- tion of characters keen, and his sense deep. Notwithstanding that some of his evangelical recommendators 'leave to better judges' to pronounce 'what share of merit is due to the poet,' Quarles has at length obtained the laurel to which he was entitled." Advertisement to the present Editiati. CONTENTS. PAGE Intboduction 1 The Infection of the Heart 5 The Taking away of the Heart 9 The Darkness of the Heart 13 The Absence of the Heart 17 The Vanity of the Heart 21 The Oppression of the Heart 25 The Covetousness of the Heart 29 The Hardness of the Heart 33 The Division of the Heart 37 The Insatiableness of the Heart 41 The Returning of the Heart 45 The Pouring out of the Heart 49 The Circumcision of the Heart 53 The Contrition of the Heart 57 The Humiliation of the Heart 61 The Softening of the Heart 65 The Cleansing of the Heart 69 The Giving of the Heart 73 The Sacrifice of the Heart 77 The Weighing of the Heart 81 The Trying of the Heart 85 The Sounding of the Heart 89 TheLevellingof the Heart 93 The Renewing of the Heart 97 VIU CONTENTS. PAGE The Enlightening of the Heart .... .101 The Law-table of the Heart 105 The Tilling of the Heart 109 The Seeding of the Heart 113 The "Watering of the Heart 117 The Flowers of the Heart 121 The Keeping of the Heart 125 The Watching of the Heart 129 The Wounding of the Heart 133 The Inhabiting of the Heart 137 The Enlarging of the Heart 141 The Inflaming of the Heart 145 The Ladder of the Heart 149 The Flying of the Heart 153 The Union of the Heart 157 The Rest of the Heart 161 The Bathing of the Heart with the Bloody Sweat . . . 165 The Binding of the Heart with the Cords of Christ . . 169 Christ's Pillar the Prop of the Heart 173 The Scoizrging of the Heart 177 The Hedging of the Heart with a Crown of Thorns . . 181 The Fastening of the Heart 185 The New Wine of the Heart out of the Press of the Cross . 189 The Learning of the Heart 195 The Grammar of the Heart 196 The Rhetoric of the Heart 197 The Logic of the Heart 199 HiEROGLTPHICS OF THE LiFE OF MaN 201 INTRODUCTIOX. Peruse this little Book ; and thou wilt see What thy Ileart is. and what it ought to be- 'TURN in, my mind, wander not abroad : Here 's work enough at home ; lay by that load Of scatter 'd thought, that clogs and cumbers thee : Resume thy long-neglected liberty I INTRODUCTION. Of self-examinatiou : bend thine eye Inward ; consider where thy heart doth lie, How 'tis affected, how 'tis busied : look What thou hast WTit thyself in thine own book. Thy conscience : here set thou thyself to school ; Self-knowledge, 'twixt a wise man and a fool. Doth make the difference ; he that neglects This learning, sideth with his own defects. Dost thou draw back % Hath custom charm 'd thee so. That thou canst relish nothing but thy woe ? Find'st thou such sweetness in these sugar 'd lies ? Have foreign objects so engross 'd thine eyes ? Canst thou not hold them off ? Hast thou an ear To listen, but to what thou shouldst not hear ? Art thou incapable of everything, But what thy senses to thy fancy bring ? Remember that thy birth and constitution Both promise better than such base confusion. Thy birth 's divine, fiom Heaven ; thy composure Is spirit, and immortal : thine inclosure In walls of flesh ; not to make thee debtor For houseroom to them, but to make them better : Thy body 's thy freehold, live then as lord, Not tenant to thy owti : some time afford To view what state 'tis in : survey each part. And, above all, take notice of thine heart. Such as that is, the rest is, or will be, Better or worse, blame- worthy, or fault-free. IKTRODUCTIOX. What ! are the ruins such, thou art afraid, Or else ashamed, to see how 'tis decay 'd ? Is 't therefore thou art loath to see it such As now it is, because it is so much ; Degenerated now from what it was. And should have been ? Thine ignorance, alas I Will make it nothing better : and the longer E\'ils are suffer'd to grow, they grow the stronger : Or hath thy understanding lost its light ? Hath the dark night of error dimm'd thy sight, So that thou canst not, though thou wouldst, observe All things amiss within thee, how they swerve From the strait rules of righteousness and reason ? If SO; omit not then this precious season : 'Tis yet school-time ; as yet the door 's not shut. Hark how the Master calls. Come, let us put Up our requests to him, whose will alone Limits his power of teaching, from whom none Returns unlearn'd, that hath once a will To be his scholar, and implore his skill. Great Searcher of the heart, whose boundless sight Discovers secrets, and doth bring to light The hidden things of darkness, who alone Perfectly know'st all things that can be known ; Thou know'st I do not, cannot, have no mind To know mine heart : I am not only blind, But lame, and listless : thou alone canst make Me able, willing : and the pains I take, B 2 4 INTRODUCTION. As well as the success, must come from thee, Who workest both to will and do in me : Having made me now willing to be taught. Make me as willing to learn what I ought. Or, if thou wilt allow thy scholar leave. To choose his lesson, lest I should deceive Myself again, as I have done too often. Teach me to know my heart. Thou, thou canst soften. Lighten, enliven, purify, restore. And make more fruitful than it was before. Its hardness, darkness, death, uncleanness, loss. And barrenness : refine it from the dross, And draw out all the dregs, heal every sore. Teach it to know itself, and love thee more. Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst impart this skill : And as for other learning, take 't who will. THE SCHOOL OF THE HEART. THE INFECTION OF THE HEART. While Satan thus deceives with flatt'ring breath, Thy heart drinks poison in, disease, and death. ACTS V. 3. Whj^ hath Satan filled thine heart ? Epig. 1. 'YyHILST thou inclin'st thy voice-inveigled ear, The subtle serpent's syren songs to hear, Thy heart drinks deadly poison drawn from hell, And with a vip'rous brood of sin doth swell. THE SCHOOL OF ODE I. The Soul. Profit and pleasure, comfort, and content, Wisdom, and honour ; and, when these are spent, A fresh supply of more ! Oh heav'nly words ! Are these the dainty fruits that this fair tree affords ? The Serpent. Yes, these and many more, if more may be. All that this world contains, in this one tree Contracted is. Take but a taste, and try ; Thou may'st believe thyself, experience cannot lie. The Soul. But thou may'st lie : and, with a false pretence Of friendship, rob me of that excellence Which my Creator's bounty hath bestow 'd. And freely given me, to whom he nothing ow'd, 7%e Serpent. Strange composition ! so credulous, And at the same time so suspicious ! This is the tree of knowledge ; and until Thou eat thereof, how canst thou know what 's good or ill ? The Soul. God infinitely good my Maker is, Who neither will nor can do aught amiss. The being I received, was that he sent. And therefore I am sure must needs be excellent. THE HEART. 7 The Serpent. Suppose it be : yet doubtless he that gave Thee such a being must himself needs have A better far, more excellent by much : Or else be sure that he could not have made thee such. The Soul. Such as he made me, I am well content Still to continue : for, if he had meant I should enjoy a better state, he could As easily have giv'n it, if he would. The Serpent. And is it not all one, if he have giv'n The means to get it ? Must he still be driv'n To new works of creation for thy sake ? Wilt thou not what he sets before thee deign to take ? The Saul. Yes, of the fruits of all the other trees I freely take and eat : they are the fees Allow 'd me for the dressing, by the ^laker : But of this fatal fruit I must not be partaker. The Serpent. And why ? What danger can it be to eat That which is good, being ordain'd for meat ? ^Miat wilt thou say ? God made it not for food 1 Or dar'st thou think that, made by him, it is not good ? 5 THE SCHOOL OF The Soul. Yes, good it is, no doubt, and good for meat : But I am not allow'd thereof to eat. My Maker's prohibition, under pain Of death, the day I eat thereof, makes me refrain. The Serpent. Faint-hearted fondling ! canst thou fear to die, Being a spirit and immortal ? Fie. God knows this fruit once eaten will refine Thy grosser parts alone, and make thee all divine. The Soul. There 's something in it, sure : were it not good. It had not in the midst of the garden stood : And being good, 1 can no more refrain From wishing, than I can the fire to burn, resti'ain. Why do I trifle then? What I desire Why do I not % Nothing can quench the fire Of longing, but fruition. Come what will. Eat it I must, that I may know what's good and ill. The Serpent. So, thou art taken now : that resolution Gives an eternal date to thy confusion. The knowledge thou hast got of good and ill. Is of good gone, and past ; of evil, present still. THE HEART. THE TAKING AWAY OF THE HEART. While lust and wine their beastly jojs impart. The mind grows dead ; the heart 's without a heart HOS. IV. 11. Whoredom andvnne,andnew wine, tale awaytlie heart, Epig. 2. jgASE lust and luxury, the scum and dross Of hell-bom pleasures, please thee, to the loss Of thy soul's precious eyesight, reason ; so Mindless thy mind, heartless thine heart doth grow. 10 THE SCHOOL OF ODE II. Laid down already ? and so fast asleep ? Thy precious heart left loosely on thine hand, Which with all diligence thou shouldst keep, And guard against those enemies, that stand Ready prepar'd to plunge it in the deep Of all distress ? Rouse thee, and understand In time, what in the end thou must confess. That misery at last and wretchedness Is all the fruit that springs from slothful idleness. Whilst thou liest soaking in security, Thou drown'st thyself in sensual delight, And wallow'st in debauched luxury. Which, when thou art awake and seest, will fright Thine heart with horror. When thou shalt descry, By the daylight, the danger of the night. Then, then, if not too late, thou wilt confess, That endless misery and wretchedness Is all the fruit that springs from riotous excess. Whilst thou dost pamper thy proud flesh, and thrust Into thy paunch the prime of all thy store. Thou dost but gather fuel for that lust, Which, boiling in thy liver, runneth o'er, And frieth in thy throbbing veins, which must Needs vent, or burst, when they can hold no more. THE HEART. 11 But oh, consider what thou shalt confess At last, that misery and wretchedness Is all the fruit that springs from lustful wantonness. ^\^lilst thou dost feed effeminate desires With spumy pleasures, whilst fruition The coals of lust fans into flaming fires, And spurious delights thou dotest on. Thy mind through cold remissness e'en expires, And all the active vigour of it 's gone, Take heed in time, or else thou shalt confess At last, that misery and %\Tetchedness Is all the fruit that springs from careless-mindedness. Whilst thy regardless sense-dissolved mind Lies by unbent, that should have been thy spring Of motion, all thy headstrong passions find Themselves let loose, and follow their own swing ; Forgetful of the great account behind, As though there never would be such a thing, But, when it comes indeed, thou wilt confess That misery alone and wretchedness Is all the fruit that spiings from soul-forgetfulness. Whilst thou remember'st not thy latter end. Nor what a reck'ning thou one day must make, Putting no difference 'twixt foe and friend, Thou suffer'st hellish fiends thine heart to take : 12 THE SCHOOL OF Who, all the while thou triflest, do attend, Ready to bring it to the lake Of fire and brimstone : where thou shalt confess That endless misery and wretchedness Is all the fruit that springs from stupid heartlessness. THE HEART. 13 THE D.^KXESS OF THE HEART. O the heart's darkness ! which, without my light. Would lead to deeper glooms, and endless night ROM I. 21. Their foolish heart was darkened. Epic. 3. gUCH cloudy shadows have eclips'd thine heart, As nature cannot parallel, nor art : Unless thou take my light of truth to guide thee, Blackness of darkness will at length betide thee. 14 THE SCHOOL OF ODE III. Tarry, tarry, lest thine heedless haste Hurry thee headlong unto hell at last : See, see, thine heart 's already half-way there ; Those gloomy shadows that encompass it. Are the vast confines of th' infernal pit. stay ; and if thou lov'st not light, yet fear That fatal darkness, where Such danger doth appear. A night of ignorance hath overspread Thy mind and understanding : thou art led Blindfolded by unbridled passion : Thou wand'rest in the crooked ways of error, Leading directly to the king of terror : The course thou tak'st, if thou boldest on, Will bury thee anon In deep destruction. Whilst thou art thus deprived of thy sight, Thou know'st no difference between noon and night, Though the sun shine, yet thou regard'st it not. My love-alluring beauty cannot draw thee, Nor doth my mind-amazing terror awe thee : Like one that had both good and ill forgot, Thou carest not a jot What falleth to thy lot. THE HEART. 15 Thou art become unto thyself a stranger, Observest not thine own desert, or danger ; Thou know'st not what thou dost, nor canst thou teU Whither thou goest : shooting in the dark. How canst thou ever hope to hit the mark ? What expectation hast thou to do well, Thou art content to dwell ^\'ithin the verge of hell ? Alas, thou hast not so much knowledge left, As to consider that thou art bereft Of thine own eyesight. But thou run'st, as though Thou sawest all before thee : wliilst thy mind To nearest necessary things is blind. Thou knowest nothing as thou oughtst to know, "\\'hilst thou esteemest so The things that are below. Would ever any, that had eyes, mistake As thou art wont to do : no diflTrence make Betwixt the way to Heaven and to hell ? But, desperately devoted to destruction, Rebel against the light, abhor instruction ? As though thou didst desire with death to dwell, Thou hatest to hear tell How yet thou may'st do well. 16 THE SCHOOL OF Oh that thou didst hut see how blind thou art, And feel the dismal darkness of thine heart ! Then wouldst thou labour for, and I would lend My light to guide thee : that's not light alone. But life, eyes, sight, grace, glory, all in one. Then should'st thou know whither those bye-ways bend. And that death in the end On darkness doth attend. THE HEAKT. THE FLIGHT OF THE HEART. Where 'a thy heart flown ? if thou a heart hast got. Who both thyself and me rememb'rest not. THE ABSENCE OF THE HEART. PROV. XVn. 16. Wherefore is there a price in the hand of a fool to get tcisdom, seeing he hath no heart to it ? Epig. 4. JJADST thou an heart, thou fickle fugitive, How would thine heart hate and disdain to live Mindful of such vain trifles as these be ! THE SCHOOL OF ODP: IV. The Soul Brave, dainty, curious, rare, rich, precious things ! Able to make fate-blasted mortals blest. Peculiar treasures, and delights for kings. That having pow'r of all, would choose the best. How do I hug mine happiness, that have Present possession of what others crave ! Christ. Poor, silly, simple, sense-besotted soul, Why dost thou hug thy self-procured woes ? Release thy freeborn thoughts, at least control Those passions that enslave thee to thy foes. How wouldst thou hate thyself, if thou didst know The baseness of those things thou prizest so ! The Soul They talk of goodness, virtue, piety, Religion, honesty, I know not what ; So let them talk for me : so long as I Have goods and lands, and gold and jewels, that Both equal and excel all other treasure, W\ij should I strive to make their pain my pleasure ? Christ. So swine neglect the pearls that lie before them, Trample them under foot, and feed on draif : THE HEART. 19 So fools gild rotten idols, and adore them, Cast all the com away, and keep the chaff. That ever reason should be blinded so ; To grasp the shadow, let the substance go ! The Soul All 's but opinion that the world accounts Matter of worth : as this or that man sets A value on it, so the price amounts : The sound of strings is vary'd by the frets, My mind 's my kingdom : why should I withstand, Or question that, which I myself command ? Girist. Thy tyrant passions captivate thy reason : Thy lusts usurp the guidance of the mind : Thy sense-led fancy barters good for geason : Thy seed is vanity, thine harvest wind : Thy rules are crooked, and thou writ'st awry : Thy ways are wand'ring, and thy mind to die. The SmiL This table sums rae myriads of pleasure ; That book enrols mine honour's inventory : These bags are stuff 'd with millions of treasure ; Those writings evidence my state of glory : These bells ring heav'nly music in mine ears, To drown the noise of cumb'rous cares and fears, c2 20 THE SCHOOL OF Christ. Those pleasures one day will procure thy pain : That which thou gloriest in, will be thy shame : Thou 'It find thy loss in what thou thought'st thy gain Thine honour will put on another name. That music, in the close, will ring thy knell ; Instead of heaven, toll thee into hell. But why do I thus waste my w^ords in vain On one that 's wholly taken up with toys ; That will not lose one dram of earth, to gain A full eternal weight of heav'nly joys ? All 's to no purpose : 'tis as good forbear. As speak to one that hath no heart to hear. THE HEART. 21 THE VANITY OF THE HEART. Blown up with honour's wind, the heart grows vain, Though a great nothing is the whole you gain. JOB XV. 31. Let not him that is deceived trust in vanity, for vanity shall be his recompence. Epig. 5. ^MBITION bellows with the wind of honour, Puffs up the swelling heart that dotes upon her : ^V'hich, fill'd with empty vanity, breathes forth Nothing, but such things as are nothing worth. 22 THE SCHOOL OF ODE V. The bane of kingdoms, world's disquieter, Hell's heir-apparent, Satan's eldest son, Abstract of ills, refin'd elixir, And quintessence of sin, ambition, Sprung from th' infernal shades, inhabits here. Making man's heart its horrid mansion, Which, though it were of vast extent before. Is now puff 'd up, and swells still more and more. Whole armies of vain thoughts it entertains. Is stuff 'd with dreams of kingdoms, and of crowns, Presumes of profit without care or pains. Threatens to bafile all its foes with frowns, In ev'ry bargain makes account of gains. Fancies such frolic mirth as chokes and drowns The voice of conscience, whose loud alarms Cannot be heard for pleasure's counterchanns. Wer't not for anger, and for pity, who Could choose but smile to see' vain-glorious men Racking their wits, straining their sinews so. That, thorough their transparent thinness, when They meet with wind and sun, they quickly grow Riv'led and dry, shrink till they crack again, And all but to seem greater than they are 1 Stretching their strength, they lay their weakness bare. THE HEART. 23 See how hell's fueller his bellows plies, Blowing the fire that burnt too fast before : See how the furnace flames, the sparkles rise And spread themselves abroad still more and more ! See how the doting soul hath fix'd her eyes On her dear fooleries, and doth adore. With hands and heart lift up, those trifling toys Wherewith the deN-il cheats her of her joys ! Alas, thou art deceived ; that glitt'ring cro%vn. On which thou gazest, is not gold but grief ; That sceptre, sorrow : if thou take them down, And try them, thou shalt find what poor relief They could afi^ord thee, though they were thine o\vn. Didst thou command e'en all the world in chief, Thy comforts would abate, thy cares increase, And thy perplexed thoughts disturb thy peace. Those pearls so thorough pierc'd, and strung together, Though jewels in thine ears they may appear. Will prove continu'd perils, when the weather Is clouded once, which yet is fair and clear. What will that fan, though of the finest feather, Stead thee, the brunt of winds and storms to bear ? Thy flagging colours hang their drooping head, And the shrill trumpet's sound shall strike thee dead. 24 THE SCHOOL OF Were all those balls, which thou in sport dost toss, Whole worlds, and in thy power to command. The gain would never countervail the loss, Those slipp'ry globes will glide out of thine hand ; Thou canst have no fast hold but of the cross. And thou wilt fall, where thou dost think to stand. Forsake these follies, then, if thou wilt live : Timely repentance may thy death reprieve. THE HEART. 25 THE OPPRESSION OF THE HEART. With gluttony and drunkenness poeeesB'd ; By heaviest weights the beav'n-bom heart *s oppress'd. LUKE XXI. 34. Taie heed, lest at any time your heans he overcharged vnth surfeiting and drunkenness. EPIG. 6. ^WO massy weights, surfeiting, drunkenness, Like mighty logs of lead, do so oppress The heav'n-born hearts of men, that to aspire Upwards they have nor power nor desire. 26 THE SCHOOL OF ODE VI. Monster of sins ! See how th' enchanted soul, O'ercharg-d already calls for more. See how the hellish skinker plies his bowl, And 's ready furnished with store, "Whilst cups on every side Planted, attend the tide. See how the piled dishes mounted stand, Like hills advanced upon hills, And the abundance both of sea and land Doth not suffice, e'en what it fills, Man's dropsy appetite. And cormorant delight. See how the poison 'd body's pufi^'d and swell'd, The face inflamed glows with heat. The limbs unable are themselves to wield. The pulses (death's alarm) do beat: Yet man sits still, and laughs, Whilst his own bane he quaffs. But where 's thine heart the while, thou senseless sot ? Look how it lieth crush'd and quell'd, Flat beaten to the board, that it cannot Move from the place where it is held. Nor upward once aspire With heavenlv desire. THE HEART. 27 Thy belly is thy god, thy shame thy glory, Thou mindest only earthly things ; And all thy pleasure is but transitory, Which grief at last and sorrow brings : The courses thou dost take Will make thine heart to ache. Is 't not enough to spend thy precious time In empty idle compliment, Unless thou strain (to aggravate thy crime) Nature beyond its own extent, And force it to devour An age ^\-ithin an hour? That which thou swallow'st is not lost alone, But quickly will revenged be. By seizing on thine heart, which, like a stone, Lies buried in the midst of thee. Both void of common sense And reason's excellence. Thy body is diseases' rendezvous, Thy mind the market-place of vice. The devil in thy will keeps open house : Thou li^''st, as though thou wouldst entice Hell-torments unto thee, And thine own devil be. 28 THE SCHOOL OF what a dirty dunghill art thou grown, A nasty stinking kennel foul ! When thou awak'st and seest what thou hast done, Sorrow will swallow up thy soul, To think how thou art foil'd, And all thy glory spoil'd. Or if thou canst not be asham'd, at least Have some compassion on thyself: Before thou art transformed all to beast, At last strike sail, avoid the shelf Which in that gulf doth lie. Where all that enter die. THE HEART. THE COVETOUSNESS OF THE HEART. Here, wand'rer, may'st thou find thy heart at last ; Where what is dearer than thy heart is plac'd. MATT. VI. 21. Where your treasure is, there %ciU i/cnir heart be also. Epic. 7. J)OST thou inquire, thou heartless wanderer, AMiere thine heart is ? Behold, thine heart is here, Here thine heart is, where that is which above Thine own dear heart thou dost esteem and love. 30 THE SCHOOL OF ODE VII. See the deceitfulness of sin, And how the devil cheateth worldly men : They heap up riches to themselves, and then They think they cannot choose but win, Though for their parts They stake their hearts. The merchant sends his heart to sea, And there, together with his ship, 'tis tost : If this by chance miscarry, that is lost, His confidence is cast away : He hangs the head. As he were dead. The pedlar cries, What do you lack ? What wull you buy ? and boasts his wares the best But offers you the refuse of the rest. As though his heart lay in his pack, Which greater gain Alone can drain. The ploughman furrows up his land. And sows his heart together with his seed, Which, both alike earth-born, on earth do feed, And prosper, or are at a stand : He and his field Like fruit do yield. THE HEART. 31 The broker and the scriv'ner have The us'rer's heart in keeping with his bands : His soul's dear sustenance lies in their hands, And if they break, their shop 's his grave. His int'rest is His only bliss. The money-hoarder in his bags Binds up his heart, and locks it in his chest ; The same key serves to that, and to his breast. Which of no other heaven brags : Nor can conceit A joy so great. So for the greedy landmonger : The purchases he makes in every part Take livery and seisin of his heart : Yet his insatiate hunger. For all his store, Gapes after more. Poor wretched muckworms, wipe your eyes, Uncase those trifles that besot you so : Your rich-appearing wealth is real woe. Your death in your desires lies. Your hearts are where You love and fear. 32 THE SCHOOL OF Oh think not then the world deserves Either to be belov'd or fear'd by you : Give heaven these affections as its due, Which always what it hath preserves In perfect bliss That endless is. TIIE HEART. 33 THE OPENING OF THE HEART WITH THE SPEAR. This spear, dear Lord, that's dy'd with blood of thine. Pierces my heart with wounds of love divine; THE HARDNESS OF THE HEART. ZECH. VII. 12. 7Ti^ made their hearts as hard as an adamant stone, lest they should hear the law. Epig. 8. 'y^T'ORDS move thee not, nor gifts, nor strokes ; Thy sturdy adamantine heart provokes 34 THE SCHOOL OF My justice, slights my mercies : anvil-like, Thou stand'st unmoved, though my hammer strike. ODE VIII. What have we here ? An heart ? It looks like one. The shape and colour speak it such : But, having brought it to the touch, I find it is no better than a stone. Adamants are Softer by far. Long hath it steeped been in Mercy's milk, And soaked in Salvation, Meet for the alteration Of anvils, to have made them soft as silk ; Yet it is still Harden'd in ill. Oft have I rained my vrord upon it, oft The dew of Heaven has distill'd, With promises of mercy fill'd, Able to make mountains of marble soft : Yet it is not Changed a jot. My beams of love shine on it every day, Able to thaw the thickest ice ; And, where they enter in a trice. THE HEART. 35 To make congealed crystal melt away : Yet warm they not This frozen clot. Nay more, this hammer, that is wont to grind Rocks into dust, and powder small, Makes no impression at all. Nor dint, nor crack, nor flaw, that I can find : But leaves it as Before it was. Is mine almighty arm decay'd in strength ? Or hath mine hammer lost its weight ? That a poor lump of earth should slight My mercies, and not feel my wrath at length, With which I make E'en Heav'n to shake ! No, I am still the same, I alter not. And, when I please, my works of wonder Shall bring the stoutest spirits under. And make them to confess it is their lot To bow or break, When I but speak. But I would have men know, 'tis not my word Or works alone can change their hearts ; These instruments perform their parts, d2 36 THE SCHOOL OF But 'tis my Spirit doth this fruit afford. 'Tis I, not art, Can melt man's heart. Yet would they leave their customary sinning, And so'^unclench the devil's claws, That keeps them captive in his paws. My bounty soon should second that beginning : E'en hearts of steel My force should feel. THE HEART. 37 THE DIVISION OF THE HEART Why dost thou give hut half thine heart to me, ■\Vhen my whole self I oflFer'd up for thee ? HOS. X. 2. Thine heart is divided. Now shall they he found faulty. Epig. 9. "yAIN trifling virgin, I myself have given Wholly to thee : and shall I now be driven To rest contented with a petty part, That have deserved more than a whole heart ? 38 THE SCHOOL OF ODE IX. More mischief yet 1 was't not enough before To rob me wholly of thine heart, Which I alone Should call mine own, But thou must mock me with a part 1 Crown injury with scorn, to make it more ? What's a whole heart 1 Scarce flesh enough to serve A kite one breakfast : how much less, If it should be Offer'd to me. Could it sufficiently express What I for making it at first deserve ? I gav't thee whole, and fully furnished With all its faculties entire ; There wanted not The smallest jot That strictest justice could require, To render it completely perfected. And is it reason what I give in gross Should be retum'd but by retail ? To take so small A part for all, I reckon of no more avail Than, where I scatter gold, to gather di'oss. THE HEART. 31) Give me thine heart but as I gave it thee : Or give it me at least as I Have given mine To purchase thine. I halv'd it not when I did die ; But gave myself wholly to set thee free. The heart I gave thee was a living heart ; And when thy heart by sin was slain, I laid down mine To ransom thine, That thy dead heart might live again. And live entirely perfect, not in part. But whilst thine heart's divided, it is dead ; Dead unto me, unless it live To me alone. It is all one To keep all, and a part to give : For what's a body worth without an head ! Yet this is worse, that what thou keep'st from me Thou dost bestow upon my foes : And those not mine Alone, but thine ; The proper causes of thy woes, From whom I gave my life to set thee free. 40 THE SCHOOL OF Have I betroth'd thee to myself, and shall The devil, and the world, intrude Upon my right, E'en in my sight ? Think not thou canst me so delude I will have none, unless I may have all. I made it all, I gave it all to thee, I gave all that I had for it : If I must lose, I'd rather choose Mine interest in all to quit : Or keep it whole, or give it whole to me. ^) THE HEART. 41 THE INSATIABILITY OF THE HEART. The world won't do ;— thy heart's but empty still ; The Trinity must that triangle fill. HAB. n. 5. WTio enlargeth his desire as Jiell, and is as deatky and cannot be satisfied. Epig. 10. 'JHE whole round world is not enough to fill The heart's three comers, but it craveth still. Only the Trinity, that made it, can Suffice the vast triangled heart of man. 42 THE SCHOOL OF ODE X. The thirsty earth and barren womb cry, give : The grave devoureth all that live : The fire still burneth on, and never saith, It is enough : the horse-leech hath Many more daughters : but the heart of man Outgapes them all as much as Heav'n one span. Water hath drown'd the earth : the barren womb Hath teem'd sometimes, and been the tomb To its own swelling issue : and the grave Shall one day a sick surfeit have : When all the fuel is consum'd, the fire Will quench itself, and of itself expire. But the vast heart of man's insatiate, His boundless appetites dilate Themselves beyond all limits, his desires Are endless still ; whilst he aspires To happiness, and fain would find that treasure Where it is not ; his wishes know no measure. His eye with seeing is not satisfied, Nor 's ear with hearing : he hath try'd At once to furnish ev'ry sev'ral sense, With choice of curious objects, whence He might extract, and into one unite, A perfect quintessence of all delight. THE HEART. 43 Yet, having all that he can fancy, still There wanted more to fill His empty appetife. His mind is vex'd, And he is inwardly perplex'd, He knows not why : when as the .truth is this, He would find something there, where nothing is. He rambles over all the faculties. Ransacks the secret treasuries Of art and nature, spells the universe Letter by letter, can rehearse All the records of time, pretends to know Reasons of all things, why they must be so. Yet is not so contented, but would fain Pry in God's cabinet, and gain Intelligence from Heav'n of things to come, Anticipate the day of doom. And read the issues of all actions so. As if God's secret counsel he did know. Let him have all the wealth, all the renown, And glory, that the world can crown Her dearest darlings with ; yet his desire Will not rest there, but still aspire. Earth cannot hold him, nor the whole creation Contain his wishes, or his expectation. 44 THE SCHOOL OF The heart of man's but little ; yet this All, Compared thereunto, is but small, Of such a large unparallel'd extense Is the short-lin'd circumference, Of that three-corner'd figure, which to fill With the round world, is to leave empty still. So, gi'eedy soul, address thyself to Heav'n And leave the world, as 'tis bereav'n Of all true happiness, or any thing That to thine heart content can bring, But there a triune God in glory sits, Who all grace-thirsting hearts both fills and fits. THE HEART. 45 THE RETURNING OF THE HEART. Not to return, so often call'd, will be Thy certain ruin ; come, be rul'd by me. ISAIAH, XLVI. 8. Remember this, and shew j/oursekes like men : bring it again to heart, O ye transgressors. Epig. 11. QFT have I call'd thee : return at last, Return unto thine heart : let the time past 46 THE SCHOOL OF Suffice thy wanderings : know that to cherish Revolting still, is a mere will to perish. ODE XI. Christ. Return, wanderer, return, return. Let me not always waste my words in vain, As I have done too long. Why dost thou spurn And kick the counsels that should bring thee back again. The Soul. What 's this that checks my course 1 Methinks I feel A cold remissness seizing on my mind : My stagger'd resolutions seem to reel. As though they had in haste forgot mine heart behind. Christ. Return, wanderer, return, return. Thou art already gone too far away. It is enough : unless thou mean to bum In hell for ever, stop thy course at last, and stay. The Soul. There 's something holds me back, I cannot move Forward one foot : methinks, the more I strive, The less I stir. Is there a Pow'r above My will in me, that can my purposes reprieve ? Christ. No power of thine own : 'tis I, that lay Mine hand upon thine haste ; whose will can make THE HEART. 47 The restless motions of the Heavens stay : Stand still, turn back again, or new-found courses take. The Soul. What ! am I riveted, or rooted here ? That neither forward, nor on either side I can get loose 1 then there s no hope, I fear ; But I must back again, whatever me betide. Christ. And back again thou shalt. I '11 have it so. Though thou hast hitherto my voice neglected. Now I have handed thee, I '11 let thee know, That what I will have done shall not be uneffected. The Soul. Thou wilt prevail then, and I must return. But how ? or whither ? when a world of shame And sorrow lies before me, and I burn With horror in myself to think upon the same. Shall I return to thee 1 Alas, I have No hope to be receiv'd : a runaway, A rebel to return ! Madmen may rave Of mercy-miracles, but what will Justice say ? Shall I return to mine own heart ! Alas, 'Tis lost, and dead, and rotten long ago, 48 THE SCHOOL OF 1 cannot find it what at first it was, And it hath been too long the cause of all my woe. Shall I forsake my pleasures and delights, My profits, honours, comforts, and contents, For that, the thought whereof my mind affrights, Repentant sorrow, that the soul asunder rents 1 Shall I return, that cannot though I would ? I, that had strength enough to go astray, Find myself faint and feeble, how I should Return. I cannot run, I cannot creep this way. What shall I do ? Forward I must not go, Backward I cannot : If I tarry here, I shall be drowned in a world of woe. And antedate my own damnation by despair. But is 't not better hold that which I have. Than unto future expectation trust ? Oh no : to reason thus is but to rave. Therefore return I will, because return I must. (Mrist. Return, and welcome : if thou wilt, thou shalt : Although thou canst not of thyself, yet I, That call, can make thee able. Let the fault Be mine, if, when thou wnlt return, I let thee lie. THE HEART. 49 THE POURING OUT OF THE HEART. Thy vows and wounds conceal not in thy breast ; Pour out thy heart to God ; he 11 give thee rest. LAJI. n. 19. Pmr jt thine heart like water before the face of the Lord. Epig. 12. ^YHY dost thou hide thy wounds ? why dost thou hide In thy close breast thy wishes, and so side 50 THE SCHOOL OF With thine own fears and sorrows 1 Like a spont Of water, let thine heart to God break out. ODE xn. The Soul Can death, or hell, be worse than this estate ? Anguish, amazement, honor, and confusion, Drown my distracted mind in deep distress. My grief's grown so transcendent, that I hate To hear of comfort, as a false conclusion Vainly inferr'd from feigned premises. What shall I do ? What strange course shall I try, That, though I loathe to live, yet dare not die ? Christ. Be rul'd by me, I '11 teach thee such a way. As that thou shalt not only drain thy mind From that destructive deluge of distress That overwhelms thy thoughts, but clear the day, And soon recover light and strength, to find And to regain thy long-lost happiness. Confess, and pray. Say, what it is doth ail thee. What thou wouldst have, and that shall soon avail thee. The Soul Confess and pray ? If that be all, I will. Lord, I am sick, and thou art health, restore me. THE HEART. 51 Lord, I am weak, and thou art strength, sustain me. Thou art all goodness, Lord, and I all ill. Thou, Lord, art holy ; I unclean before thee. Lord, I am poor ; and thou art rich, maintain me. Lord, I am dead ; and thou art life, revive me. Justice condemns ; let mercy, Lord, reprieve me. A wretched miscreant I am, composed Of sin and misery ; 'tis hard to say. Which of the two allies me most to hell : Native corruption makes me indisposed To all that 's good ; but apt to go astray, Prone to do ill, unable to do weU ; My light is darkness, and my liberty Bondage, my beauty foul deformity. A plague of leprosy o'erspreadeth all My pow'rs and faculties : I am unclean, I am unclean : my liver broils with lust ; Rancour and malice overflow my gall ; Envy my bones doth rot, and keeps me lean ; Revengeful wrath makes me forget what 's just : Mine ear 's uncircumcis'd, mine eye is evil. And hating goodness makes me parcel devil. My callous conscience is cauteris'd ; My trembling heart shakes with continual fear : e2 52 THE SCHOOL OF My frantic passions fill my mind with madness : My windy thoughts with pride are tympanis'd : My pois'nous tongue spits venom everywhere : My wounded spirit's swallow'd up \\ath sadness : Impatient discontentment plagues me so, I neither can stand still nor forward go. Lord, I am all diseases : hospitals. And bills of mountebanks, have not so many, Nor half so bad. Lord, hear, and help, and heal me. Although my guiltiness for vengeance calls. And colour of excuse I have not any. Yet thou hast goodness, Lord, that may avail me. Lord, I have pour'd out all my heart to thee : Vouchsafe one drop of mercy unto me. THE HEART. 53 THE CIRCUMCISION OF THE HEART. The cross, the nails, the spear, each give a part. To form this knife, to circumcise thine heart. DEUT. X. 16. Circumcise the foreskin of your heart, and he no more Epig. 13. JJERE, take thy Saviour's cross, the nails and spear That for thy sake his holy flesh did tear ; 54 THE SCHOOL OF Use them as knives thine heart to circumcise. And dress thy God a pleasing sacrifice. ODE xm. Heal thee 1 I will. But first I '11 let thee know What it comes to. The plaister was prepared long ago : But thou must do Something thyself, that it may be Effectually applied to thee. I, to that end, that I might cure thy sores, Was slain, and died, By mine own people was turn'd out of doors, And crucified : My side was pierced with a spear. And nails my hands and feet did tear. Do thou then to thyself, as they to me : Make haste, and try. The old man, that 's yet alive in thee. To crucify. Till he be dead in thee, my blood Is like to do thee little good. My course of physic is to cure the soul. By killing sin. So then thine own conuptions to control Thou must begin. TIIE HEART. 55 Until thine heart be circumcis'd, My death will not be duly priz'd. Consider then my cross, my nails, and spear. And let that thought Cut, razor-like, thine heart, when thou dost hear How dear I bought Thy freedom from the pow'r of sin, And that distress which thou wast in. Cut out the iron sinew of thy neck, That it may be Supple, and pliant to obey my beck, And learn of me. Meekness alone, and yielding, hath A power to appease my wrath. Shave off thine hairy scalp, those curled locks Powder'd with pride, \Vherewith thy scornful heart my judgments mocks, And thinks to hide Its thunder-threaten'd head, which bared Alone is likely to be spar'd. Rip off those seeming robes, but real rags, Which earth admires As honourable ornaments and brags That it attires ; 56 THE SCHOOL OF Which cumber thee indeed. Thy sores Fester with what the world adores. Clip thine ambitious wings, let down thy plumes, And learn to stoop, Whilst thou hast time to stand. Who still presumes' Of strength, will droop At last, and flag when he should fly. Falls hurt them most that climb most high. Scrape off that scaly scurf of vanities That clogs thee so : Profits and pleasures are those enemies That work thy woe. If thou wilt have me cure thy wounds, First rid each humour that abounds. THE HEART. THE CONTRITION OF THE HEART. In thousand pieces would I break this heart. Which leaves its Lord, and acts a rebel's part. PSALM LL 17- A broken and a contrite heart, God, thou wilt not despise. Epig. 14. JJOW gladly would I braise and break this heart Into a thousand pieces, till the smart 58 THE SCHOOL OF Make it confess, that, of its own accord, It wilfully rebell'd against the Lord ! ODE XIV. Lord, if I had an arm of pow 'r like thine, And could effect what I desire, My love-drawn heart, like smallest wire Bended and writhen, should together twine And twisted stand With thy command : Thou shouldst no sooner bid, hut I would go, Thou shouldst not will the thing I would not do. But I am weak. Lord, and corruption strong : When I would fain do what I should. Then I cannot do what I would : Mine action's short, when mine intention's long ; Though my desire Be quick as fire. Yet my performance is as dull as earth, And stifles its own issue in the birth. But what I can do. Lord, I will : since what I would, 1 cannot ; I will try Whether mine heart, that's hard and dry, Being calm 'd, and tempered with that Liquor which falls From mine eyeballs, THE HEART. 59 Will work more pliantly, and yield to take Such new impression as thy grace shall make. In mine own conscience then, as in a mortar, I '11 place mine heart, and bray it there : If grief for what is past, and* fear Of what 's to come, be a sufficient torture, I'll break it aU In pieces small : Sin shall not find a sheard without a flaw. Wherein to lodge one lust against thy law. Remember then, mine heart, what thou hast done ; What thou hast left undone : the ill Of all my thoughts, words, deeds, is still Thy cursed issue only : thou art grown To such a pass That never was. Nor is, nor will there be, a sin so bad. But thou some way therein an hand hast had. Thou hast not been content alone to sin. But hast made others sin with thee ; Yea, made their sins thine own to be. By liking, and allowing them therein. Who first begins, Or follows, sins Not his own sins alone, but sinneth o'er All the same sins, both after and before. 60 THE SCHOOL OF What boundless sorrow can suffice a guilt Grown so transcendent ? Should thine eye Weep seas of blood, thy sighs outvie The winds, when with the waves they run at tilt, Yet they could not Conceal one blot. The least of all thy sins against thy God Deserves a thunderbolt should be thy rod. Then since (repenting heart) thou canst not grieve Enough at once while thou art whole, Shiver thyself to dust, and dole Thy sorrow to the several atoms, give All to each part, And by that art Strive thy dissever 'd self to multiply, And want of weight with number to supply. THE HEART. 61 THE HUMILIATION OF THE HEART. The heart too high its lofty pride would rear, If not press'd down, and kept within its sphere. ECCLES. Vn. 9. The patient in spirit is better than the proud in spirit. Epig. 15. ]yjINE heart, alas ! exalts itself too high, And doth delight a loftier pitch to fly Than it is able to maintain, unless It feel the weight of thine imposed press. 62 THE SCHOOL OF ODE XV. So let it be, Lord, I am well content. And thou slialt see The time is not mispent. Which thou dost then bestow, when thou dost quell And crush the heart where pride before did swell. Lord, I perceive, As soon as thou dost send, And I receive The blessings thou dost lend, Mine heart begins to mount, and doth forget The ground whereon it goes, where it is set. In health I grew Wanton, began to kick, As though I knew I never should be sick. Diseases take me down, and make me know Bodies of brass must pay the debt they owe. If I but dream Of wealth, mine heart doth rise With a full stream Of pride, and I despise All that is good, until I wake, and spy The swelling bubble prick 'd with poverty. THE HEART. 63 A little wind Of undeserved praise Blows up my mind, And my swoln thoughts do raise Above themselves, until the sense of shame Makes me contemn my self-dishonoui''d name. One moment 's mirth Would make me run stark mad, And the whole eaith, Could it at once be had, Would not suffice my greedy appetite. Didst thou not pain instead of pleasure write. I was in time brought down, Else thou canst tell, Mine heart would soon have flown Full in thy face, and study to requite The riches of thy goodness with despite. Slack not thine hand, Lord, turn thy screw about : If thy press stand, Mine heart may chance slip out. quest it unto nothing, rather than It should forget itself, and swell again. 64 THE SCHOOL OF Or if thou art Disposed to let it go, Lord, teach mine heart To lay itself as low- As thou canst it : that prosperity May still be temper 'd with humility. Thy way to rise, Was to descend ; let me Myself despise, And so ascend with thee ; Thou throw 'st them down that lift themselves on high, And raisest them that on the ground do lie. THE HEART. 65 THE SOFTENING OF THE HEART. This icy, marble heart, like wax will melt, Soon as the fire of heavenly love is felt JOB XXm. 16. God maJceth my heart soft. Epig. 16. ]y^INE heart is like a marble ice, Both cold and hard : but thou canst in a trice Melt it like wax, great God, if from above Thou kindle in it once thy fire of love. 66 THE SCHOOL OF ODE XVI. Nay, blessed Founder, leave me not : If out of all this grot There can but any gold be got, The time thou dost bestow, the cost And pains will not be lost : The bargain is but hard at most. And such are all those thou dost make with me : Thou know'st thou canst not but a loser be. When the sun shines with glittering beams, His cold-dispelling gleams Turn snow and ice to wat'ry streams. The wax, so soon as it hath smelt The warmth or fire, and felt The glowing heat thereof, will melt. Yea, pearls with vinegar dissolve we may. And adamants in blood of goats, they say. If nature can do this, much more, Lord, may thy grace restore Mine heart to what it was before. There 's the same matter in it still, Though new-inform'd with ill. Yet can it not resist thy will. Thy pow'r, that fram'd it at the first, as oft As thou wilt have it, Lord, can make it soft. ^. THE HEART. 67 Thon art the Sun of Righteousness : And though I must confess Mine heart 's grown hard in wickedness, Yet thy resplendent rays of light, When once they come in sight. Will quickly thaw what froze by night. Lord, in thine healing wings a pow'r doth dwell. Able to melt the hardest heart in hell. Although mine heart in hardness pass Both iron, steel, and brass, Yea, the hardest thing that ever was ; Yet if thy fire thy Spirit accord, And, working with thy word, A blessing unto it afford, It will grow liquid, and not drop alone. But melt itself away before thy throne. Yea, though my flinty heart be such, That the sun cannot touch. Nor fire sometimes affect it much. Yet thy warm reeking self-shed blood, Lamb of God, is so good, It cannot be withstood. That aqua-regia of thy love prevails, E'en where the pow'r of aqua-fortis fails. Then leave me not so soon, dear Lord, Though I neglect thy word, 68 THE SCHOOL OF And what thy power doth afford ; try thy mercy, and thy love The force thereof may prove. Soak'd in thy blood, mine heart will soon surrender Its native hardness, and grow soft and tender. THE HEART. 69 THE CLEANSING OF THE HEART. A fountain flows from Jesu's wounded side, Here let thy filthy heart be purified. JER- V. 14. O Jerusalem, wash thy heart from toickedness, that thou mayest he saved. Epig. 17. QUT of thy wounded Husband's, Savioui^s side, Espoused soul, there flows with a full tide 70 THE SCHOOL OF A fountain for uncleanness : wash thee there, Wash there thine heart, and then thou need'st not fear. ODE xvn. ENDLESS misery ! I labour still, but still in vain. The stains of sin I see Are oaded all, or dy'd in grain. There 's not a blot Will stir a jot. For all that I can do. There is no hope In fullers' soap, Though I add nitre too. 1 many ways have tried, Have often soak'd it in cold fears ; And, when a time I spied, Pour'd upon it scalding tears : Have rins'd and rubb'd. And scrap'd and scrubb'd. And turn'd it up and down : Yet can I not Wash out one spot ; It 's rather fouler grown. miserable state ! Who would be troubled with an heart, THE HEART. 71 As I have been of late, Both to my sorrow, shame, and smart ? If it will not Be clearer got, 'T were better I had none. Yet how should we Divided be, That are not two, but one 1 But am I not stark wild. That go about to wash mine heart With hands that are defil'd As much as any other part ? ^Miilst all thy tears, Thine hopes and fears. Both ev'ry word, and deed, And thought is foul, Poor silly soul ! How canst thou look to speed ? Can there no help be had ? Lord, thou art holy, thou art pure : Mine heart is not so bad. So foul, but thou canst cleanse it, sure. Speak, blessed Lord, Wilt thou afford Me means to make it clean ? 72 THE SCHOOL OF I know thou wilt : Thy blood was spilt. Should it run still in vain ? Then to that blessed spring, Which from my Saviour's sacred side Doth flow, mine heart I '11 bring : And there it will be purified. Although the dye, Wherein I lie. Crimson or scarlet were ; This blood, I know. Will make 't as snow Or wool, both clean and clear. THE HEART. 73 THE MIRROR OF THE HEART. Wouldst thou inspect the heart ? Lord look at mine. And let the sight imprint new womids on thine. THE GIVING OF THE HEART. PROV. XXni. 26. My son, give me thine heart. Epig. 18. 'pHE only love, the only fear thou art, Dear and dread Saviour, of my sin-sick heart. 74 THE SCHOOL OF Thine heart thou gavest, that it might be mine : Take thou mine heart, then, that it may be thine. ODE XVIII. Give thee mine heart ? Lord, so I would. And there 's great reason that I should, If it were worth the having : Yet sure thou wilt esteem that good. Which thou hast purchas'd with thy blood, And thought it worth the craving. Give thee mine heart ? Lord, so I will. If thou wilt first impart the skill Of bringing it to thee : But should I trust myself to give Mine heart, as sure as I do live, I should deceived be. As all the value of mine heart Proceeds from favour, not desert. Acceptance is its worth : So neither know I how to bring A present to my heav'nly King, Unless he set it forth. Lord of my life, methinks I hear Thee say, that thee alone to fear, And thee alone to love, THE HEART. iO Is to bestow mine heart on thee, That other giving none can be, Whereof thou wilt approve. And well thou dost deserve to be Both loved, Lord, and fear'd by me. So good, so great thou art : Greatness so good, goodness so great, As passeth all finite conceit, And ravisheth mine heart. Should I not love thee, blessed Lord, ^Vho freely of thine own accord Laid'st down thy life for me ? For me, that was not dead alone, But desp'rately transcendent grown In enmity to thee ? Should I not fear before thee. Lord, Whose hand spans heaven, at whose word Devils themselves do quake ? AVhose eyes outshine the sun, whose beck Can the whole course of nature check. And its foundations shake ? Should I withhold mine heart from thee, The fountain of felicity, Before whose presence is 76 THE SCHOOL OF Fulness of joy, at whose right hand All pleasures in perfection stand, And everlasting bliss 1 Lord, had I hearts a million. And myriads in ev'ry one Of choicest loves and fears ; They were too little to bestow On thee, to whom I all things owe, I should be in arrears. Yet, since my heart 's the most I have, And that which thou dost chiefly crave, Thou shalt not of it miss. Although I cannot give it so As I should do, I '11 offer 't though : Lord, take it, here it is. THE HEART. 77 THE SACRIFICE OF THE HEART. God is not pleas'd with calves or bullocks slain ; The heart he gave, is all he asks again. PSALM LI. 17. The sacrifices of God are a hrohen heart. . Epig. 19. ^OR calves, nor bulls, are sacrifices good Enough for thee, who gav'st for me thy bleed. 78 THE SCHOOL OF And, more than that, thy life : take thine own part, Great God, that gavest all : here, take mine heart. ODE XIX. Thy former covenant of old. Thy law of ordinances, did require Fat sacrifices from the fold, And many other off 'rings made by fire. Whilst thy first tabernacle stood. All things were consecrate with blood. And can thy better covenant. The law of grace and truth by Jesus Christ, Its proper sacrifices want For such an altar, and for such a priest ? No, no, thy gospel doth require Choice off'rings too, and made by fire. A sacrifice for sin indeed, Lord, thou didst make thyself and once for all : So that there never will be need Of any more sin-ofi^rings, great or small. The life-blood thou didst shed for me Hath set my soul for ever free. Yea, the same sacrifice thou dost Still offer in behalf of thine elect : And, to improve it to the most. THE HEART. Thy word and sacraments do in effect Offer thee oft, and sacrifice Thee daily, in our ears and eyes. Yea, each believing soul may take Thy sacrificed flesh and blood, by faith, And therewith an atonement make For all its trespasses : thy gospel saith, Such infinite transcendent price Is there in thy sweet sacrifice ! But is this all ? Must there not be Peace-offerings, and sacrifices of Thanksgiving, tender'd unto thee ? Yes, Lord, I know I should but mock, and scoff Thy sacrifice for sin, should I My sacrifice of praise deny. But I have nothing of mine own Worthy to be presented in thy sight ; Yea, the whole world affords not one Or ram, or lamb, wherein thou canst delight. Less than myself it must not be : For thou didst give thyself for me. Myself, then, I must sacrifice : And so I will, mine heart, the only thing Thou dost above all other prize As thine own part, the best I have to bring. 79 80 THE SCHOOL OF An humble heart's a sacrifice, Which I know thou wilt not despise. Lord, be my altar, sanctify Mine heart thy sacrifice, and let thy Spirit Kindle thy fire of love, that I, Burning with zeal to magnify thy merit, May both consume my sins, and raise Eternal trophies to thy praise. THE HEART. 81 THE WEIGHING OF THE HEART. This gift of thine will not appear so great, Unless when tried it proves of proper weight. PROV. XXI. 2. The Lord pondereih the heart. Epig. 20. 'J^HE heart thou giv'st as a great gift, my love, Brought to the trial, nothing such will prove ; If Justice' equal balance tell thy sight, That, weighed with my law, it is too light. 82 THE SCHOOL OF ODE XX. 'Tis true, indeed, an heart, Such as it ought to be, Entire and sound in eVry part. Is always welcome unto me. He that would please me with an offering. Cannot a better have, although he were a king. And there is none so poor. But, if he will, he may- Bring me an heart, although no more. And on mine altar may it lay. The sacrifice which I like best, is such As rich men cannot boast, and poor men need not grutch. Yet ev'ry heart is not A gift sufiicient, It must be purg'd from ev'ry spot, And all to pieces must be rent. Though thou hast sought to circumcise and bruise 't, It must be weighed too, or else I shall refuse 't. My balances are just. My law 's an equal weight ; The beam is strong, and thou may'st tnist My steady hand to hold it straight. THE HEART. 83 Were thine heart equal to the world in sight, Yet it were nothing worth, if it should prove too light. And so thou seest it doth ; My pond'rous law doth ^ress This scale ; but that, as fill'd with froth, Tilts up, and makes no show of stress. Thine heart is empty sure, or else it would In weight, as well as bulk, better proportion hold. Search it, and thou shalt find It wants integrity ; And yet is not so thorough lin'd With single-ey'd sincerity. As it should be : some more humility There wants to make it weight, and some more con- stancy. Whilst windy vanity Doth puff it up ^vith pride. And double-fac'd hypocrisy Doth many empty hollows hide, It is but good in part, and that but little, Wav'ring unstaidness makes its resolutions brittle. The heart, that in my sight As current coin would pass. Must not be the least grain too light, But as at first it stamped was. G 2 84 THE SCHOOL OF Keep then thine heart till it be better grown, And, when it is full, I '11 take it for mine own. But if thou art asham'd To find thine heart so light, And art afraid thou shalt be blam'dj I '11 teach thee how to set it right. Add to my law my gospel, and there see My merits thine, and then the scales will equal be. THE HEART. 85 THE DEFENCE OF THE HEAHT. O thou my light and life ! thy aid impart, And let thy sufTrings now defend my heart. THE TRYING OF THE HEART. PROV. XVII. a The fining-pot for silver, and the furnace for gold : but the Lord trieth the hearts. Epig. 21. T'HINE heart, my dear, more precious is than gold. Or the most precious things that can be told, 86 THE SCHOOL OF Pro\-ide first that my pure fire have tried Out all the dross, and pass it purified. ODE XXI. What ! take it at adventure, and not try What metal it is made of ? No, not I. Should I now lightly let it pass, Take sullen lead for silver, sounding brass, Instead of solid gold, alas ! What would become of it in the great day Of making jewels, 'twould be cast away. The heart thou giv'st me must be such a one, As is the same throughout. I will have none But that which will abide the fire. 'Tis not a glitt'ring outside I desire. Whose seeming shows do soon expire : But real worth within, which neither dross. Nor base allays, make subject unto loss. If, in the composition of thine heart, A stubborn steely wilfulness have part, That \\all not bow and bend to me, Save only in a mere formality Of tinsel-trimm'd hj^ocrisy, I care not for it, though it show as fair As the first blush of the sun-gilded air. THE HEART. 87 The heart that in my famace will not melt, When it the glowing heat thereof hath felt, Turn liquid, and dissolve in tears Of true repentance for its faults, that hears My threat'ning voice, and never fears, Is not an heart worth having. If it be The heart, that, cast into my furnace, spits And sparkles in my face, falls into fits Of discontented grudging, whines When it is broken of its will, repines At the least suffering, declines My fatherly correction, is an heart On which I care not to bestow mine art. The heart that in my flames asunder flies. Scatters itself at random, and so lies In heaps of ashes here and there, ^\Tiose dry dispersed parts ^^ill not draw near To one another, and adhere In a firm union, hath no metal in 't Fit to be stamped and coined in my mint. The heart that vapours out itself in smoke. And with these cloudy shadows thinks to cloke Its empty nakedness, how much Soever thou esteemest it, is such As never will endure my touch. 88 THE SCHOOL OF Before I take't for mine, then I will try What kind of metal in thine heart doth lie. I 'U bring it to my furnace, and there see What it will prove, what it is like to be. If it be gold, it will be sure The hottest fire that can be to endure, And I shall draw it out more pure. Affliction may refine, but cannot waste That heart wherein my love is fixed fast. THE HEART. 89 THE SEARCHING OF TtlE HEART. That which no line can fathom, I alone Can search : To me the human heart is known. THE SOUNDING OF THE HEART. JER. XVn. 9, 10. The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately mcked ; who can know it? I the Lord. Epig. 22. J^ THAT alone am infinite, can try How deep within itself thine heart doth lie. 90 THE SCHOOL OF Thy seamen's plummet can but reach the ground I find that which thine heart itself ne'er found. ODE xxn. A GOODLY heart to see to, fair and fat ! It may be so : and what of that ? Is it not hollow ? Hath it not within A bottomless whirlpool of sin ? Are there not secret creeks and crannies there, Turning and winding comers, where The heart itself e'en from itself may hide, And lurk in secret unespied ? I'll none of it, if such a one it prove : Truth in the inward parts is that I love. But who can tell what is within thine heart ? 'Tis not a work of nature : art Cannot perform that task : 'tis I alone. Not man, to whom man's heart is known. Sound it thou may'st, and must : but then the line And plummet must be mine, not thine ; And I must guide it too ; thine hand and eye May quickly be deceiv'd : but I, That made thine heart at first, am better skill'd To know when it is empty, when 'tis fill'd. Lest then thou shouldst deceive thyself, for Me Thou canst not ; I will let thee see THE HEART. 91 Some of those depths of Satan, depths of hell, "Wherewith thine hollow heart doth swell. Under pretence of knowledge in thy mind, Error and ignorance I find ; Quicksands of rotten superstition. Spread over with misprision. Some things thou knowest not, mis-knowest others, And oft thy cons-cience its own knowledge smothers. Thy crooked will, that seemingly inclines To follow reason's dictates, twines Another way in secret, leaves its guide. And lags behind, or swerves aside ; Crab-like, creeps backwards ; when it should have made Progress in good, is retrograde. Whilst it pretends a privilege above Reason's prerogative, to move As of itself unmov'd, rude passions learn To leave the oar, and take in hand the stem. The tides of thine affections ebb and flow, Rise up aloft, fall down below. Like to the sudden land-floods, that advance Their swelling waters but by chance. Thy love, desire, thy hope, delight, and fear. Ramble they care not when, nor where. Yet cunningly bear thee in hand, they be Only directed unto me, 92 THE SCHOOL OF Or most to me, and would no notice take Of other things, but only for my sake. Such strange prodigious impostures lurk In thy prsestigious heart, 'tis work Enough for thee all thy lifetime to learn How thou may'st truly it discern : That, when upon mine altar thou dost lay Thine off 'ring, thou may'st safely say, And swear it is an heart : for, if it should Prove only an heart-case, it would Nor pleasing he to me, nor do thee good. An heart 's no heart, not rightly understood. THE HEART. THE LEVELLING OF THE HEART. The heart's true level if you still design, Then often bring it to be try'd by mine. PSALM XCVn. 11. ■ Gladness for the upright in heart. Epig. 23. CET thine heart upright, if thou wouldst rejoice, And please thyself in thine heart's pleasing choice But then be sure thy plumb and level be Rightly applied to that which pleaseth me. 94: THE SCHOOL OF ODE xxni. Nay, yet I have not done : one trial more Thine heart must undergo, before I will accept of it : Unless I see It upright be, I cannot think it fit To be admitted in my sight, And to partake of mine eternal light. My will 's the rule of righteousness, as free From eiTor as uncertainty : What I would have is just. Thou must desire What I require, And take it upon trust : If thou prefer thy will to mine. The level 's lost, and thou go'st out of line. Canst thou not see how thine heart turns aside, And leans towards thyself ? How wide A distance there is here ? Until I see . Both sides agree Alike with mine, 'tis clear The middle is not where 't should be ; Likes something better, though it look at me. THE HEART. 95 I, that know best how to dispose of thee, Would have thy portion poverty, Lest wealth should make thee proud, And me forget : But thou hast set Thy voice to cry aloud For riches ; and unless I grant All that thou wishest, thou complain'st of want. I, to preserve thine health, would have thee fast From nature's dainties, lest at last Thy senses' sweet delight Should end in smart : But thy vain heart Will have its appetite Pleased to-day, though grief and sorrow Threaten to cancel all thy joys to-morrow. I, to prevent thy hurt by climbing high. Would have thee be content to lie Quiet and safe below, 'Where peace doth dwell ; But thou dost swell With vast desires, as though A little blast of vulgar breath Were better than deliverance from death. I, to procure thy happiness, would have Thee mercy at mine hands to crave ; 96 THE SCHOOL OF But thou dost merit plead, And wilt have none But of thine own, Till justice strike thee dead, And all thy crooked paths go cross to mine. THE HEART. 97 THE RENEWING OF THE HEART. Since so much pleasure novelties impart, Resign thine old, for this new better heart. EZEK. XXXVI. 26. A new heart will Ipivet/ou, and a new spirit will I put within t^ou. Ei 24. ^RT thou delighted with strange novelties, Which often prove but old fresh-gamish'd lies ? 98 THE SCHOOL OF Leave then thine old, take the new heart I give thee Condemn thyself, that so I may reprieve thee. ODE XXIV. No, no, I see There is no remedy : An heart, that wants both weight and worth, That 's fill'd with nought but empty hollowness, And screw'd aside with stubborn wilfulness, Is only fit to be cast forth, Nor to be given toe, Nor kept by thee. Then let it go ; And if thou wilt bestow An acceptable heart on me, I '11 furnish thee with one shall serve the turn Both to be kept and given : which will burn With zeal, yet not consumed be : Nor with a scornful eye Blast standers by. The heart, that I Will give thee, though it lie Buried in. seas of sorrows, yet Will not be drowTi'd with doubt, or discontent ; Though sad complaints sometimes may give a vent To grief, and tears the cheeks may wet. THE HEART. 99 Yet it exceeds their art To hurt his heart. The heart I give, Though it desire to live, And bathe itself in all content. Yet will not toil, or taint itself with any : Although it take a \iew and taste of many, It feeds on few, as though it meant To breakfast only here, And dine elsewhere. This heart is fresh And new : an heart of flesh. Not, as thine old one was, of stone. A lively spiritly heart, and moving still, Active to what is good, but slow to ill : An heart, that with a sigh and groan Can blast all worldly joys. As trifling toys. This heart is sound, And solid will be found ; 'Tis not an empty airy flash, That baits at butterflies, and with full cry Opens at ev'ry flirting vanity. It slights and scorns such paltry trash : But for eternity Dares live or die. H 2 100 THE SCHOOL OF I know thy mind : Thou seek'st content to find In such things as are new and strange. Wander no further then : lay by thine old, Take the new heart I give thee, and be bold To boast thyself of the exchange. And say, that a new heart Exceeds all art. THE HEABT. 101 THE ENLIGHTENING OF THE HEART. Thou Light of lights, O by thy presence bright Chase my heart's darkness, and impart thy light. PSALM XXXIT. 5. They looked on Mm, and were lightened. Epig. 25. 'J'HOU art Light of lights, the only sight Of the blind world, lend me thy saving light : 102 THE SCHOOL OF Disperse those mists which in my soul have made Darkness as deep as hell's eternal shade. ODE XXV. Alas ! that I Could not before espy The soul-confounding misery Of this more than Egyptian dreadful night ! To be deprived of the light, And to have eyes, but eyes devoid of sight, As mine have been, is such a woe. As he alone can know That feels it so. Darkness has been My God and me between, Like an opacous doubled screen. Through which nor light nor heat could passage find. Gross ignorance hath made my mind And understanding not blear-ey'd, but blind ; My will to all that 's good is cold, Nor can, though I would, Do what I should. No, now I see There is no remedy Left in myself : it cannot be THE HEART. 103 That blind men in the dark should find the way To blessedness : although they may Imagine the high midnight is noon-day, As I have done till now, they '11 know At last, unto their woe, 'Twas nothing so. Now I perceive Presumption doth bereave Men of all hope of help, and leave Them, as it finds them, drown'd in misery : Despairing of themselves, to cry For mercy is the only remedy That sin-sick souls can have ; to pray Against this darkness, may Turn it to day. Then unto thee. Great Lord of light, let me Direct my prayer, that I may see. Thou, that didst make mine eyes, canst soon restore That pow'r of sight they had before. And, if thou seest it good, canst give them more. The night will quickly shine like day, If thou do but display One glorious ray. 104 THE SCHOOL OF I must confess, And I can do no less, Thou art the Sun of righteousness : There 's healing in thy wings ; thy light is life ; My darkness death. To end all strife, Be thou mine husband, let me be thy wife : So light and life divine Will all be thine. THE HEART. 105 THE LAW-TABLE OF THE HEART. Leave the stone tables for thy Saviour's part ; Keep thou the law that's written in thy heart. JER. XXXL 33. I will put my law in their inward parts j and write it in their hearts. Epig. 26. JN the soft table of thine heart 111 write A new law, which I will newly indite. 106 THE SCHOOL OF Hard stony tables did contain the old : But tender leaves of flesh shall this infold. ODE XXVI. What will thy sight Avail thee, or my light, If there be nothing in thine heart to see Acceptable to me ? A self-writ heart will not Please me, or do thee any good ; I wot The paper must be thine, The writing mine. What I indite 'Tis I alone can write. And write in books that I myself have made. 'Tis not an easy trade To read or write in hearts : They that are skilful in all other arts. When they take this in hand, Are at a stand. My law of old Tables of stone did hold. Wherein I wrote what I before had spoken. Yet were they quickly broken : A sign the covenant Contain'd, in them would due observance want. THE HEART. 107 Nor did they long remain Copied again. But now I'll try TVTiat force in flesh doth lie : TMiether thine heart renew'd afford a place Fit for my law of grace. This covenant is better Than that, though glorious, of the killing letter. This gives life, not by merit, But by my Spirit. When in men's hearts, And their most inward parts, I by my Spirit write my law of love. They then begin to move, Not by themselves, but me. And their obedience is their liberty. There are no slaves, but those That serv^e their foes. AVhen I have writ My covenant in it. View thine heart by my light, and thou shalt see A present fit for me. The worth, for which I look. Lies in the lines, not in the leaves of the book. Coarse paper may be lin'd With words refin'd : 108 THE SCHOOL OP And such are mine. No furnace can refine The choicest silver so, to make it pure, As my law put in ure Purgeth the hearts of men : Which being rul'd, and written with my pen, My Spirit, ev'ry letter Will make them better. THE HEART. 109 THE TILLING OF THE HEART. Lord, with thy plough break up this heart of mine, And fit it to receive the seed divine. EZEK. XXXVI. 9. / mil turn untoj/ou, and ye shall he tilled and soton. Epig. 27. JJINE heart 's a field, thy cross a plough : be pleas'd^ Dear Spouse, to till it, till the mould be rais'd Fit for the seeding of thy word : then sow, And if thou shine upon it, it will grow. 110 THE SCHOOL OF ODE xxvn. So now methinks I find Some better vigour in my mind ; My will begins to move, And mine affections stir towards things above : Mine heart grows big with hope ; it is a field That some good fruit may yield, If it were till'd as it should be. Not by myself, but thee. Great Husbandman, whose pow'r All difficulties can devour, And do what likes thee best. Let not thy field, my heart, lie by and rest ; Lest it be over-run with noisome weeds, That spring of their own seeds : Unless thy grace the growth should stop. Sin would be all my crop. Break up my fallow ground. That there may not a clod be found To hide one root of sin. Apply the plough betime : now, now begin To furrow up my stiff and starvy heart ; No matter for the smart : Although it roar, when it is rent. Let not thine hand relent. THE HEART. Ill Corruption 's rooted deep ; Showers of repentant tears must steep The mould, to make it soft : It must be stirr'd, and tum'd, not once, but oft. Let it have all its seasons. impart The best of all thine art : For of itself it is so tough. All will be but enough. Or, if it be thy will To teach me, let me learn the skill Myself to plough mine heart : The profit will be mine, and 'tis my part To take the pains, and labour, though the' increase Without thy blessing cease : If fit for nothing else, yet thou May'st make me draw thy plough : Which of thy ploughs thou wilt, For thou hast more than one. My guilt, Thy wTath, thy rods, are all Ploughs fit to tear mine heart to pieces small : And when, in these, it apprehends thee near, 'Tis furrowed with fear : Each weed turn'd under, hides its head, And shows as it were dead. But, Lord, thy blessed passion Is a plough of another fashion, 112 THE SCHOOL OF Better than all the rest. Oh fasten me to that, and let the rest Of all my powers strive to draw it in, And leave no room for sin. The virtue of thy death can make Sin its fast hold forsake. THE HEART. 113 THE SEEDING OF THE HEART. "With thine own hand, O Lord, now seed the ground, Lest this vile heart be still unfruitful found. LUKE TIIL 15. That on the good ground are they, which, with an honest and good heart, having heard the word, keep it, and bring forth fruit tcith patience. Epig. 28. J^EST the field of mine heart should unto thee, Great Hushandman that mad'st it, barren be. 114 THE SCHOOL OF Manure the ground, then come thyself and seed it ; nd let thy servants water it and weed it. ODE xxvm. Nay, blessed Lord, Unless thou wilt afford Manure, as well as tillage, to thy field, It will not jdeld That fruit which thou expectedst it should bear : The ground, I fear. Will still remain Barren of what is good : and all the grain It will bring forth. As of its own accord, will not be worth The pains of gathering So poor a thing. Some faint desire. That quickly will expire, Wither, and die, is all thou canst expect. If thou neglect To sow it now 'tis ready, thou shalt find That it will bind And harder grow Than at the first it was. Thou must bestow Some further cost. Else all thy former labour will be lost. Mine heart no com will breed Without thy seed. THE HEART. 115 Thy word is seed, And manure too : will feed, As well as fill mine heart. If once it were Well rooted there. It would come on apace : then neglect No time : expect No better season. Now, now thy field, mine heart, is ready : reason Surrenders now ; Now my rebelKous will begins to bow, And mine affections are Tamer by far. Lord, I have lain Barren too long, and fain I would redeem the time, that I may be Fruitful to thee ; Fruitful in knowledge, faith, obedience, Ere I go hence : That when I come At harvest to be reaped, and brought home, Thine angels may My soul in thy celestial gamer lay, WTiere perfect joy and bliss Eternal is. If to entreat A crop of purest wheat, I 2 116 THE SCHOOL OF A blessing too transcendent should appear For me to hear, Lord, make me what thou wilt, so thou wilt take What thou dost make, And not disdain To house me, though among thy coarsest grain ; So I may he Laid with the gleanings gathered by thee, When the full sheaves are spent, I am content. THE HEA.RT. 117 THE WATERING OF THE HEART. My heart toward Hear'n is open ; let thy showers Gently distil, and aid the springing flowers. ISAIAH XXVn. 3. / the Lord do keep it : I mil icater it even/ moment. Epig. 29. (^ LOSE downwards towards the earth, open above Towards Heav'n, mine heart is. let thy love 118 THE SCHOOL OF Distil in fructifying dews of grace, And then mine heart will be a pleasant place. ODE XXIX. See how this dry and thirsty land, Mine heart, doth gaping, gasping stand, And, close below, opens towards Heav'n and thee ; Thou Fountain of felicity. Great Lord of living waters, water me : Let not my breath, that pants with pain. Waste and consume itself in vain. The mists, that from the earth do rise, An heav'n-born heart will not suffice : Cool it without they may, but cannot quench The scalding heat within, nor drench Its dusty dry desires, or fill one trench. Nothing, but what comes from on high, Can heav'n-bred longings satisfy. See how the seed, which thou didst sow. Lies parch'd and wither'd ; wall not grow Without some moisture, and mine heart hath none That it can truly call its own. By nature of itself, more than a stone : Unless thou water 't, it will lie Drowned in dust, and still be dry. THE HEART. 119 Thy tender plants can never thrive, Whilst want of water doth deprive Their roots of nourishment : which makes them call And cry to thee, great All in All, That seasonable show'rs of grace may fall, And water them : thy word will do 't. If thou vouchsafe thy blessing to 't. then be pleased to unseal Thy fountain, blessed Sa\aour ; deal Some drops at least, wherewith my drooping spirits May be revived. Lord, thy merits Yield more refreshing than the world inherits : Rivers, yea seas, but ditches are. If with thy springs we them compare. If not full show'rs of rain, yet. Lord, A little pearly dew afford. Begot by thy celestial influence On some chaste vapour, raised hence To be partaker of thine excellence : A little, if it come from thee. Will be of great avail to me. Thou boundless Ocean of grace, Let thy free Spirit have a place 120 THE SCHOOL OF Within mine heart : full rivers, then, I know, Of living waters, forth will flow ; And all thy plants, thy fruits, thy flow'rs will grow. Whilst thy springs their roots do nourish, They must needs be fat, and flourish. THE HEART. 121 THE FLOWERS OF THE HEART. These lilies, rais'd from seed which thou didst sow, I give thee, with the soil in which they grow. CANT. VI. 2. My beloved is gone down into his garden, to the beds of spices, to feed in the gardens, and to gather lilies. Epig. 30. 'THESE lilies I do consecrate to thee, Beloved Spouse, which spring, as thou raay'st see 122 THE SCHOOL OF Out of the seed thou sowedst ; and the ground Is better'd by thy flow'rs, when they abound* ODE XXX. Is there a joy like this ? What can augment my bliss ? If my Beloved will accept A posy of these flowers, kept And consecrated unto his content, I hope hereafter he will not repent The cost and pains he hath bestow'd So freely upon me, that ow'd Him all I had before, And infinitely more. Nay, try them, blessed Lord ; Take them not on my word, But let the colour, taste, and smell, The truth of their perfections tell. Thou that art infinite in wisdom, see If they be not the same that came from thee. If any difi"erence be found. It is occasion'd by the ground, Which yet I cannot see So good as it should be. What say'st thou to that Rose, That queen of flowers, whose THE HEART. 123 Maiden blushes, fresh and fair, Outbrave the dainty morning air ? Dost thou not in those lovely leaves espy The perfect picture of that modesty, That self-condemning shame-facedness, That is more ready to confess A fault, and to amend, Than it is to offend ? Is not this lily pure ? What fuller can procure A white so perfect, spotless, clear, As in this flower doth appear ] Dost thou not in this milky colour see The lively lustre of sincerity, Which no hypocrisy hath painted. Nor self-respecting ends have tainted ? Can there be to thy sight A more entire delight ? Or wilt thou have, beside, Violets purple-dy'd ? The sun-observing marigold. Or orpin never waxing old. The primrose, cowslip, gillyflow'r, or pink, Or any flow'r, or herb, that I can think Thou hast a mind unto ? I shall Quickly be fumish'd with them all, 124 THE SCHOOL OF If once I do but know- That thou wilt have it so. Faith is a fruitful gi'ace ; Well planted, stores the place, Fills all the borders, beds, and bow'rs, With wholesome herbs and pleasant flow'rs ; Great Gardener, thou say'st, and I believe, What thou dost mean to gather, thou wilt give. Take then mine heart in hand, to fill 't. And it shall yield thee what thou wilt. Yea thou, by gath'ring more, Shalt still increase my store. THE HEART. 125 THE KEEPING OF THE HEART. His heart is guarded well, whose hands appear Arm'd with a flamiDg swurd by holy fear. PROV. IV. 23. Keep thy heart with all diligence. Epig. 31. T IKE to a garden that is closed round, That heart is safely kept, which still is found Compass'd with care, and guarded with the fear Of God, as with a flaming sword and spear. 126 THE SCHOOL OF ODE XXXI. The Saul. Lord, wilt thou suffer this 1 Shall vermin spoil The fruit of all thy toil, Thy trees, thine herbs, thy plants, thy flow'rs thus ; And, for an overplus Of spite and malice, overthrow thy mounds, Lay common all thy grounds % Canst thou endure thy pleasant garden should Be thus tum'd up as ordinary mould ? Christ. What is the matter ? why dost thou complain ? Must I as well maintain. And keep, as make thy fences ? wilt thou take No pains for thine own sake ? Or doth thy self-confounding fancy fear thee, When there 's no danger near thee ? Speak out thy doubts, and thy desires, and tell me. What enemy or can or dares to quell thee ? The Soul. Many, and mighty, and malicious. Lord, That seek, with one accord, To work my speedy ruin, and make haste To lay thy garden waste. The devil is a ramping roaring lion, Hates at his heart thy Zion, THE HEART. 127 And never gives it respite day nor hour, But still goes seeking whom he may devour. The world 's a wilderness, wherein I find Wild beasts of every kind, Foxes, and wolves, and dogs, and boars, and bears ; And, which augments my fears, Eagles and vultures, and such birds of prey, Will not be kept away : Besides the light-abhorring owls and bats. And secret comer-creeping mice and rats. But these, and many more, would not dismay Me much, unless there lay One worse than all within, myself I mean : My false, unjust, unclean, Faithless, disloyal self, that both entice And entertain each vice ; This home-bred traitorous partaking 's worse Than all the violence of foreign force. Lord, thou may'st see my fears are grounded, rise Not from a bare surmise. Or doubt of danger only ; my desires Are but what need requires, Of thy Divine protection and defence To keep these vermin hence : Which, if they should not be restrain'd by thee, Would grow too strong to be kept out by me. 128 THE SCHOOL OF Christ. Thy fear is just, and I approve thy care. But yet thy comforts are Provided for, e'en in that care and fear : Whereby it doth appear Thou hast what thou desirest, my protection To keep thee from defection. The heart that cares and fears, is kept by me : I watch thee, whilst thy foes are watch'd by thee. THE HEART. 129 THE WATCHING OF THE HEART. My wakeful heart, that loves thy presence, keeps A constant watch, e'en while my body sleeps. CANT. V. 2. / sleep, but my heart waketh. Epig. 32. "^Y^ILST the soft bands of sleep tie up my senses, My watchful heart, free from all such pretences, 130 THE SCHOOL OF Searches for thee, inquires of all about thee, Nor day, nor night, able to be without thee. ODE xxxn. It must be so : that God that gave Me senses, and a mind, would have Me use them both, but in their several kinds ; Sleep must refresh my senses, but my mind 's A sparkle of heav'nly fire, that feeds On action and employment, needs No time of rest : for, when it thinks to please Itself with idleness, 'tis least at ease. Though quiet rest refresh the head, The heart, that stirs not, sure is dead. Whilst, then, my body ease doth take, My rest-refusing heart shall wake : And that mine heart the better watch may keep, I '11 lay my senses for a time to sleep. Wanton desires shall not entice, Nor lust inveigle them to vice : No fading colours shall allure my sight, Nor sounds enchant mine ears with their delight I '11 bind my smell, my touch, my taste, To keep a strict religious fast. My worldly business shall lie still, That heav'nly thoughts my mind may fill : THE HEART. 131 My Martha's cumb'ring cares shall cease their noise, That Mary may attend her better choice. That meditation may advance My heart on purpose, not by chance. My body shall keep holyday, that so My mind with better liberty may go About her business, and engross That gain which worldly men count loss. And though my senses sleep the while, My mind my senses shall beguile With dreams of thee, dear Lord, whose rare perfections Of excellence are such, that bare inspections Cannot suffice my greedy soul. Nor her fierce appetite control ; But that the more she looks, the more she longs, And strives to thrust into the thickest throngs Of those divine discoveries ^\^lich dazzle even angels' eyes. Oh could I lay aside this flesh. And follow after thee with fresh And free desires ! my disentangled soul, Ravish'd with admiration, should roll Itself and all its thoughts on thee ; And, by believing, strive to see What is invisible to flesh and blood, And only by fruition understood : K 2 132 THE SCHOOL OF The beauty of each sev'ral grace, That shines in thy sun-shaming face. But what I can do that I will, Waking and sleeping, seek thee still : I '11 leave no place unpry'd into behind me Where I can but imagine I may find thee : I '11 ask of all I meet, if they Can tell me where thou art, which way Thou goest that I may follow after thee. Which way thou com'st, that thou may'st meet with me. If not thy face. Lord, let mine heart Behold with Moses thy back part. THE HEART. 133 THE WOUNDING OF THE HEART. "With thousand shafts O pierce this heart of mine ; The wounds thou givest. Lord, are balm divine. LAM. m. 12. He hath bent his bow, and set me as a mark for the arrow. Epig. 33. ^ THOUSAND of thy strongest shafts, my Light, Draw up against this heart with all thy might, 134 THE SCHOOL OF And strike it through : they, that in need do stand Of cure, are healed by thy wounding hand. ODE xxxm. Nay, spare me not, dear Lord, it cannot be They should be hurt, that wounded are by thee. Thy shafts will heal the hearts they hit. And to each sore its salve will fit. All hearts by nature are both sick and sore, And mine as much as any else, or more : There is no place that 's free from sin, Neither without it, nor within ; And universal maladies do crave Variety of medicines to have. First, let the arrow of thy piercing eye. Whose light outvieth the star-spangled sky. Strike through the darkness of my mind, And leave no cloudy mist behind. Let thy resplendent rays of knowledge dart Bright beams of understanding to mine heart ; To my sin-shadow'd heart, wherein Black ignorance did first begin ^ To blur thy beauteous image, and deface The glory of thy self-sufficing grace. Next let the shaft of thy sharp-pointed pow'r, Discharged by that strength that can devour THE HEART. 135 All difficulties, and incline Stout opposition to resign Its steelly stubbornness, subdue my will ; Make it hereafter ready to fulfil Thy royal law of righteousness. As gladly as, I must confess, It hath fulfilled heretofore th' unjust. Profane, and cruel laws of its own lust. Then let that love of thine, which made thee leave The bosom of thy Father, and bereave Thyself of thy transcendent glory, (Matter for an eternal story !) Strike through mine affections all together ; And let that sunshine clear the cloudy weather. Wherein they wander without guide. Or order, as the wind and tide Of floating vanities transport and toss them, Till self-begotten troubles curb and cross them. Lord, empty all thy quivers, let there be No comer of my spacious heart left free, Till all be but one wound, wherein No subtle sight-abhorring sin May lurk in secret unespy'd by me. Or reign in pow'r unsubdu'd by thee. Perfect thy purchas'd victory. That thou may'st ride triumphantly, 136 THE SCHOOL OF And, leading captive all captivity, May'st put an end to enmity in me. Then, blessed archer, in requital, I To shoot thine arrows back again will try ; By pray'rs and praises, sighs and sobs, By vows and tears, by groans and throbs, ril see if I can pierce and wound thine heart, And vanquish thee again by thine own art ; Or, that we may at once provide For all mishaps that may betide. Shoot thou thyself thy polish'd shaft to me, And I will shoot my broken heart to thee. THE HEART. THE INHABITING OF THE HEART. While here thy Spirit dwells, my heart shall bum With thine own lore ; which sure thou wilt return. GAL. IV. 6. God hath sent forth the Spirit of his Son into yow hearts. Epic. 34. ]y[INE heart 's an house, my Light, and thou canst tell There 's room enough ; let thy Spirit dwell 138 THE SCHOOL OF For ever there : that so thou may'st love me, And, being lov'd, I may again love thee. ODE XXXIV. Welcome, great guest ; this house, mine heart, Shall all be thine : I will resign Mine interest in ev'ry part : Only be pleased to use it as thine own For ever, and inhabit it alone : There 's room enough ; and, if the furniture Were answerably fitted, I am sure Thou wouldst be well content to stay. And, by thy light, Possess my sight With sense of an eternal day. It is thy building, Lord ; 'twas made At thy command, And still doth stand Upheld and shelter'd by the shade Of thy protecting Providence ; though such As is decayed and impaired much. Since the removal of thy residence. When, with thy grace, glory departed hence : It hath been all this while an inn To entertain The vile, and vain, And wicked companies of sin. THE HEART. 139 Although 't be but an house of clay, Fram'd out of dust, And such as must Dissolved be, yet it was gay And glorious indeed, when ev'ry place Was furnished and fitted with thy grace : "SVhen, in the presence-chamber of my mind. The bright sun-beams of perfect knowledge shin'd : When my will was thy bedchamber, And ev'ry power A stately tower Sweeten'd with thy Spirit's amber. But whilst thou dost thyself absent. It is not grown Noisome alone. But all to pieces torn and rent. The windows all are stopt, or broken so. That no light without wind can thorough go. The roof 's uncovered, and the wall 's decay'd, The door 's flung off the hooks, the floor 's unlay 'd ; Yea the foundation rotten is, And everywhere It doth appear AU that remains is far amiss. But if thou wilt return again, And dwell in me, Lord, thou shalt see 140 THE SCHOOL OF What care I '11 take to entertain Thee, though not like thyself, yet in such sort As thou wilt like, and I shall thank thee for 't. Lord, let thy blessed Spirit keep possession. And all things will be well : at least, confession Shall tell thee what 's amiss in me. And then thou shalt Or mend the fault. Or take the blame of all on thee. THE HEART. THE ENLARGING OF THE HEART. That 's pleasant now, which once I Btrore to shun, With heart enlarg'd the narrow way to run. PSALM CXIX. 32. / icill run the way of thy commandmentSj when thou shaU enlarge my heart. Epig. 35. JJOW pleasant is that now, which heretofore Mine heart held bitter, sacred learning's lore ! 142 THE SCHOOL OF Enlarged heart enters with greatest ease The straightest paths, and runs the narrowest ways. ODE XXXV. What a blessed change I find, Since I entertain'd this guest ! Now methinks another mind Moves and rules within my breast. Surely I am not the same That I was before he came ; But I then was much to blame. When, before, my God commanded Any thing he would have done, I was close and gripple-handed, Made an end ere I begun. If he thought it fit to lay Judgments on me, I could say. They are good ; but shrink away. All the ways of righteousness I did think were full of trouble ; I complain'd of tediousness, And each duty seemed double. Whilst I serv'd him but of fear, Ev'ry minute did appear Longer far than a whole year. THE HEART. 143 Strictness in religion seemed Like a pined, pinion'd thing : Bolts and fetters I esteemed More beseeming for a king, Than for me to bow my neck, And be at another's beck, When I felt my conscience check. But the case is alter'd now : He no sooner turns his eye. But I quickly bend, and bow, Ready at his feet to lie : Love hath taught me to obey All his precepts, and to say. Not to-morrow, but to-day. What he wills, I say I must : What I must, I say I will : He commanding, it is just What he would I should fulfil. Whilst he biddeth, I believe What he calls for he will give : To obey him, is to live. His commandments grievous are not. Longer than men think them so : Though he send me forth, I care not. Whilst he gives me strength to go ; 144 THE SCHOOL OF When or whither, all is one ; On his bus'ness, not mine own, I shall never go alone. If I be complete in him. And in him all fulness dwelleth, I am sure aloft to swim, Whilst that Ocean overswelleth. Having Him that 's All in All, I am confident I shall Nothing want, for which I call. THE HEART. U5 THE INFLAMING OF THE HEART. Thus my fond heart, inflam'd with strong desire. Shall, like a salamander, live in fire. PSALM XXXIX. 3. Ml/ heart was hot within me : while I was musing, the fire burned. Epig. 36. gPARE not, my Love, to kindle and inflame Mine heart within throughout, until the same Break forth, and bum : that so thy salamander, Mine heart, may never from thy furnace wander. 146 THE SCHOOL OF ODE XXXVI. Welcome, holy, heav'nly fire, Kindled by immortal love : Which descending from above, Makes all earthly thoughts retire. And give place To that grace, Which, with gentle violence. Conquers all cotrupt affections. Rebel nature's insurrections, Bidding them be packing hence. Lord, thy fire doth heat within, Warmeth not without alone ; Though it be an heart of stone, Of itself congeal'd in sin, Hard as steel. If it feel Thy dissolving pow'r, it groweth Soft as wax, and quickly takes Any print thy Spirit makes. Paying what thou say'st it oweth. Of itself mine heart is dark ; But thy fire, by shining bright. Fills it full of saving light. Though 't be but a little spark THE HEART. 147 Lent by thee, I shall see More by it than all the light, Which in fullest measure streams From corrupted nature's beams, Can discover to my sight. Though mine heart be ice and snow- To the things which thou hast chosen, All benumb'd with cold, and frozen. Yet thy fire will make it glow. Though it bums, When it turns Towards the things which thou dost hate. Yet thy blessed warmth, no doubt, Will that wild-fire soon draw out. And the heat thereof abate. Lord, thy fire is active, using Always either to ascend To its native heav'n, or lend Heat to others : and difi^using Of its store. Gathers more. Never ceasing till it make All things like itself, and longing To see others come with thronging, Of thy goodness to partake. l2 148 THE SCHOOL OF Lord, then let thy fire inflame My cold heart so thoroughly, That the heat may never die, But continue still the same : That I may Ev'ry day More and more, consuming sin, Kindling others, and attending All occasions of ascending, Heaven upon earth begin. THE HEART. 149 THE LADDER OF THE HEART. Would you scale Heav'n, and use a ladder's aid ? Then in thy heart let the first step be made. PSALM LXXXIV. 5. In whose heart are the ways of them. Epig. 37. '^YOULDST thou, my love, a ladder have, whereby Thou may'st climb Heav'n, to sit down on high ? 150 THE SCHOOL OF In thine own heart, then, frame thee steps, and bend Thy mind to muse how thou may'st there ascend. ODE XXXVII. TheSmil What! ShaUI Always lie Grov'ling on earth, Where there is no mirth ? Why should I not ascend And climb up, where I may mend My mean estate of misery 1 Happiness, I know, is exceeding high : Yet sure there is some remedy for that. Christ. True, There is. Perfect bliss May be had above : But he, that will obtain Such a gold-exceeding gain. Must never think to reach the same, And scale Heav'n's walls, until he frame A ladder in his heart as near as new. THE HEART. 151 The Soul. Lord, I will: But the skill Is not mine own : Such an art 's not known, Unless thou wilt it teach : It is far above the reach Of mortal minds to understand. But if thou \nlt lend thine helping hand, I will endeavour to obey thy word. Christ. Well Then, see That thou be As ready prest To perform the rest, As now to promise fair : And I '11 teach thee how to rear A scaling-ladder in thine heart To mount Heav'n with : no rules of art,' But I alone, can the composure tell. 152 THE SCHOOL OF First, Thou must Take on trast All that I say ; Reason must not sway Thy judgment cross to mine, But her sceptre quite resign. Faith must be both thy ladder's sides. Which will stay thy steps whate'er betides, And satisfy thine hunger, and thy thirst. The round Next the ground. Which I must see. Is humility : From which thou must ascend, And with perseverance end. Virtue to virtue, grace to grace. Must each orderly succeed in its place ; And when thou hast done all, begin again. THE HEART. 153 THE FLYING OF THE HEART. O that on wings my weary heart could rise, Quit this vain world, and seek her native skies ! ISAIAH LX. 8. WTio are those thatfli/ as a cloud, and as the doves to their windows ? Epig. 38. QH that mine heart had wings like to a dove, That I might quickly hasten hence, and move 154 THE SCHOOL OF With speedy flight towards the celestial spheres, As weary of this world, its faults and fears. ODE XXXVIII. This way, though pleasant, yet methinks is long : Step after step, makes little haste, And I am not so strong As still to last Among So gi"eat, So many lets : Swelter'd and swill'd in sweat, My toiling soul both fumes and frets. As though she were inclin'd to a retreat. Corruption clogs my feet like filthy clay, And I am ready still to slip : Which makes me often stay, "\Mien I should trip Away. My fears And faults are such, As challenge all my tears So justly, that it were not much, If I in weeping should spend all my years. This makes me weary of the world below, And greedy of a place above, THE HEART. ] 55 On which I may bestow My choicest love ; And so Obtain That favour, which Excels all worldly gain, And maketh the possessor rich In happiness of a transcendent strain. AVhat ! must I still be rooted here below, And rivetted unto the ground, Wherein mine haste to grow Will be, though sound, But slow ] I know The sun exhales Gross vapours from below, Which, scorning as it were the vales. On mountain-topping clouds themselves bestow. But my fault-frozen heart is slow to move. Makes poor proceedings at the best. As though it did not love. Nor long for rest Above. 156 THE SCHOOL OF Mine eyes Can upward look, As though they did despise All things on earth, and could not brook Their presence : but mine heart is slow to rise. Oh that it were once winged like the dove. That in a moment mounts on high. Then should it soon remove Where it may lie In love. And lo, This one desire Methinks hath imp'd it so, That it already flies like fire, And e'en my verses into wings do grow. THE HEART. 157 THE UNION OF THE HEART. Live ye united minds, and social hearts. To whom one love but one desire imparts. EZEK. XI. 19. / will give them one heart. Epig. 39. LIKE-MINDED minds, hearts alike heartily Affected, will together live and die ; 158 THE SCHOOL OF Many things meet and part : but love's great cable, Tying two hearts, makes them inseparable. ODE XXXIX. The Soul. All this is not enough : methinks I grow More greedy by fruition : what I get Serves but to set An edge upon mine appetite, And all thy gifts do but invite My pray'rs for more. Lord, if thou wilt not still increase my store, Why didst thou an)rthing at all bestow ? Christ. And is 't the fruit of having, still to crave ? Then let thine heart united be to mine, And mine to thine. In a firm union, whereby We may no more be thou and I, Or I and thou, But both the same : and then I will avow. Thou canst not want what thou dost wish to have. The Soul. True, Lord, for thou art All in All to me ; But how to get my stubborn heart to twine And close with thine. THE HEART. 159 I do not know, nor can I guess How I should ever leani, unless Thou wilt direct The course that I must take to that effect. 'Tis thou, not I, must knit mine heart to thee. Christ. 'Tis true, and so I will : but yet thou must Do something towards it too : First, thou must lay All sin away, And separate from that, which would Our meeting intercept, and hold Us distant still : I am all goodness, and can close with ill No more than richest diamonds with dust. Then thou must not count any earthly thing, However gay and gloriously set forth, Of any worth, Compared with me, that am alone Th' eternal, high, and holy One : But place thy love Only on me and the things above. Which true content and endless comfort bring. Love is the loadstone of the heart, the glue. The cement, and the solder, which alone 160 THE SCHOOL OF Unites in one Things that before were not the same, But only like ; imparts the name, And nature too, Of each to the other : nothing can undo The knot that 's knit by love, if it be true. But if in deed and truth thou lovest me, And not in word alone, then I shall find That thou dost mind The things I mind, and regulate All thine affections, love, and hate, Delight, desire. Fear, and the rest, by what I do require, And I in thee myself shall always see. THE HEART. 161 THE REST OF THE HEART. My heart, of earthly scenes quite weary grown, Seeks for repose and rest in God alone. PSALM CXVI. 7. Return unto thy rest, O my soul. Epig. 40. A/T Y busy, stirring heart, that seeks the best, Can find no place on earth wherein to rest 162 THE SCHOOL OF For God alone, the author of its bliss, Its only rest, its only centre is. ODE XL. Move me no more, mad world, it is in vain. Experience tells me plain I should deceived be, If ever I again should trust in thee. My weary heart hath ransack'd all Thy treasures, both great and small. And thy large inventory bears in mind : Yet could it never find One place wherein to rest, Though it hath often tried all the best. Thy profits brought me loss instead of gain, And all thy pleasures pain : Thine honours blurr'd my name With the deep stains of self-confounding shame. Thy wisdom made me turn stark fool ; And all the learning, that thy school Afforded me, was not enough to make Me know myself, and take Care of my better part, Which should have perished for all thine heart. Not that there is not a place of rest in thee For others : but for me THE HEART. 163 There is, there can be none ; That God, that made mine heart, is he alone That of himself both can and will Give rest unto my thoughts, and fill Them full of all content and quietness ; That so I may possess My soul in patience, Until he find it time to call me hence. On thee, then, as a sure foundation, A tried comer stone. Lord, I will strive to raise The tow'r of my salvation, and thy praise. In thee, as in my centre, shall The lines of all my longings fall. To thee, as to mine anchor, surely tied, My ship shall safely ride. On thee, as on my bed Of soft repose, I '11 rest my weary head. Thou, thou alone, shalt be my whole desire ; I '11 nothing else require But thee, or for thy sake. In thee I 11 sleep secure ; and, when I wake, Thy glorious face shall satisfy The longing of my looking eye. I '11 roll myself on thee, as on my rock, When threat 'ning dancers mock. M 2' 164 THE SCHOOL OF Of thee, as of my treasure, I '11 boast and brag, my comforts know no measure. Lord, thou shalt be mine All, I will not know A profit here below. But what reflects on thee : Thou shalt be all the pleasure I will see In anything the earth affords. Mine heart shall own no words Of honour, out of which I cannot raise The matter of thy praise. Nay, I will not be mine. Unless thou wilt vouchsafe to have me thine. THE HEART. 165 THE BATHING OF THE HEART WITH THE BLOODY SWEAT. Christ's bloody sweat immortal blessings gives. As by its daily sweat man'o body lives. JOEL in. 21. / will cleanse their blood, that I have not cleansed. Epig. 41. 'J' HIS bath thy Saviour sweat with drops of blood, Sick heart, on purpose for to do thee good. 166 THE SCHOOL OF They that have tried it can the virtue tell ; Come, then, and use it, if thou wilt be well. ODE XLI. All this thy God hath done for thee ; And now, mine heart, It is high time that thou shouldst be Acting thy part. And meditating on his blessed passion, Till thou hast made it thine by imitation. That exercise will be the best And surest means, To keep thee evermore at rest, And free from pains. To suffer with thy Saviour is the way To make thy present comforts last for aye. Trace then the steps wherein he trod, And first begin To sweat with him. The heavy load. Which for thy sin He underwent, squeez'd blood out of his face. Which in great drops came trickling down apace. Oh let not, then, that precious blood Be spilt in vain, But gather ev'ry drop. 'Tis good To purge the stain THE HEART. 167 Of guilt, that hath defil'd and overspread Thee from the sole of the foot to the crown of the head. Poison possesseth eveiy vein ; The fountain is Corrupt, and all the streams unclean : All is amiss. Thy blood 's impure ; yea, thou thyself, mine heart, In all thine inward powers polluted art. When thy first father did ill, Man's doom was read, That in the sweat of his face he still Should eat his bread. What the first Adam in a garden caught, The second Adam in a garden taught. Taught by his own example, how To sweat for sin. Under that heavy weight to bow. And never lin Begging release, till, with strong cries and tears. The soul be drain'd of all its faults and fears. If sin's imputed guilt oppress'd The' Almighty so, That his sad soul could find no rest Under that woe : 168 THE SCHOOL OF But that the bitter agony he felt Made his pure blood, if not to sweat, to melt ; Then let that huge inherent mass Of sin, that lies In heaps on thee, make thee surpass In tears and cries. Striving with all thy strength, until thou sweat Such drops as his, though not as good as great. And if he think it fit to lay Upon thy back Or pains or duties, as he may, Until it crack. Shrink not away, but strain thine utmost force To bear them cheerfully without remorse. THE HEART. 169 THE BINDING OF THE HEART WITH THE CORDS OF CHRIST. My sins made thee a cruel bondage prove : O bind my heart to thee with cords of love. HOS. XI. 4. / drew them loith cords of a man, loith hands of loee. Epig. 42. ]y/[Y sins, I do confess a cord were found Heavy and hard by thee, when thou wast bound, 170 THE SCHOOL OF Great Lord of love, with them ; but thou hast twin'd Gentle love-cords my tender heart to bind. ODE XLU. What ! could those hands, That made the world, be subject unto bands ? Could there a cord be found, Wherewith Omnipotence itself was bound ? Wonder, my heart, and stand amaz'd to see The Lord of liberty Led captive for thy sake, and in thy stead. Although he did Nothing deserving death, or bands, yet he Was bound, and put to death, to set thee free. Thy sins had tied Those bands for thee, wherein thou shouldst have died : And thou didst daily knit Knots upon knots, whereby thou mad'st them sit Closer and faster to thy faulty self. Helpless and hopeless, friendless and forlorn. The sink of scorn. And kennel of contempt, thou shouldst have lain Eternally enthrall'd to endless pain ; Had not the Lord Of love and life been pleased to afford THE HEABT. 171 His helping hand of grace, And freely put himself into thy place. So were thy bands transferr'd, but not untied, Until the time he died, And, by his death, vanquish'd and conquer'd all That Adam's fall Had made victorious. Sin, death, and hell, Thy fatal foes, under his footstool fell. Yet he meant not That thou shouldst use the liberty he got As it should like thee best ; To wander as thou listest, or to rest In soft repose, careless of his commands : He that hath loos'd those bands. Whereby thou wast enslaved to the foes. Binds thee with those "Wherewith he bound himself to do thee good, The bands of love, love writ in lines of blood. His love to thee Made him to lay aside his majesty, And, clothed in a vail Of frail, though faultless flesh, become thy bail. But love requireth love : and since thou art Loved by him, thy part It is to love him too : and love aflFords The strongest cords 172 THE SCHOOL OF That can be : for it ties, not hands alone, But heads, and hearts, and souls, and all in one. Come then, mine heart, And freely follow the prevailing art Of thy Redeemer's love. That strong magnetic tie hath poWr to move The steelest stubbornness. If thou but twine And twist his love with thine, And, by obedience, labour to express Thy thankfulness. It will be hard to say on whether side The bands are surest, which is fastest tied. THE HEART. 173 CHRIST'S PILLAR THE PROP OF THE HEART. Nor fruits, nor flowers, require my weaken'd heart ; Her pillar, Christ, can lasting aid impart. PSALM CXn. 7, 8. His heart is fiaxd, trtisting in the Lord. His heart is established, he shall not be afraid. Epig. 43. ]yjY weak and feeble heart a prop must use, But pleasant fruits and flowers doth refuse : 174 THE SCHOOL OF My Christ my pillar is ; on him rely, Repose, and rest myself, alone will I. ODE XLni. Suppose it true, that, whilst thy Saviour's side Was furrowed with scourges, he was tied Unto some pillar fast : Think not, mine heart, it was because he could Not stand alone, or that left loose he would Have shrunk away at last ; Such weakness suits not with Omnipotence, Nor could man's malice match his patience. But, if so done, 'twas done to tutor thee. Whose frailty and impatience he doth see Such, that thou hast nor strength Nor will, as of thyself, to undergo The least degree of duty or of woe, But wouldst be sure at length To flinch or faint, or not to stand at all. Or in the end more fearfully to fall ; The very frame and figure, broad above. Narrow beneath, apparently doth prove Thou canst not stand alone. Without a prop to bolster and to stay thee. To trust to thine own strength, would soon betray thee. THE HEART. 175 Alas ! thou now art grown So weak and feeble, wav'ring and unstaid, Thou shrink'st at the least weight that 's on thee laid. The easiest commandments thou declinest, And at the lightest punishment thou whinest : Thy restless motions are Innumerable, like the troubled sea, "VVTiose waves are toss'd and tumbled ev'ry way. The hound-pursued hare Makes not so many doubles as thou dost, Till thy cross'd courses in themselves are lost. Get thee some stay that may support thee then, And stablish thee, lest thou shouldst start again. But where may it be found ? Will pleasant fruits or flow'rs serve the turn ? No, no, my tott'ring heart will overturn And lay them on the ground. Dainties may serve to minister delight. But strength is only from the Lord of might. Betake thee to thy Christ, then, and repose Thyself, in all extremities, on those His everlasting arms, "VMierewith he girds the heavens, and upholds The pillars of the earth, and safely folds His faithful flock from harms. 176 THE SCHOOL OF Cleave close to him by faith, and let the bands Of love tie thee in thy Redeemer's hands. Come life, come death, come devils, come what will, Yet, fastened so, thou shalt stand steadfast still : And all the powers of hell Shall not prevail to shake thee with their shock, So long as thou art founded on that Rock : No duty shall thee quell ; No danger shall disturb thy quiet state, Nor soul-perplexing fears thy mind amate. THE HEART. 177 THE HEART A CUP TO A THIRSTING CHRIST. Refuse the cup of gaU, Spouse divine ; But wounded hearts afiFord a pleasant wine. THE SCOURGING OF THE HEART. PROV. X. 13. A rod is for the back of him that is void of under- Epig. 44. VVHEN thou withhold'st thy scourges, dearest Love, My sluggish heart is slack, and slow to move : < 178 THE SCHOOL OF Oh let it not stand still ; but lash it rather, And drive it, though unwilling, to thy Father. ODE XLIV. What do those scourges on that sacred flesh, Spotless and pure ? Must he, that doth sin-wearied souls refresh. Himself endure Such tearing tortures 1 Must those sides be gash'd ? Those shoulders lash'd 1 Is this the trimming that the world bestows Upon such robes of Majesty as those 1 Is 't not enough to die, unless by pain Thou antedate Thy death before-hand. Lord? What dost thou mean? To aggravate The guilt of sin, or to enhance the price Thy sacrifice Amounts to ? Both are infinite, I know, And can by no additions greater grow. Yet dare I not imagine, that in vain Thou didst endure One stripe : though not thine own thereby, my gain Thou didst procure, THE HEART. 179 That when I shall be scourged for thy sake, Thy stripes may make Mine acceptable, that I may not grutch, When I remember thou hast borne as much : As much, and more for me. Come, then, mine heart. And willingly Submit thyself to suffer : smile at smart. And death defy. Fear not to feel that hand correcting thee, Which set thee free. Stripes, as the tokens of his love, he leaves, Who scourgeth ev'ry son whom he receives.; There 's foolishness bound up within thee fast : But yet the rod Of fatherly correction at the last, If bless'd by God, ^Vill drive it far away, and wisdom give, That thou may'st live ; Not to thyself, but him that first was slain, And died for thee, and then rose again. Thou art not only dull, and slow of pace, But stubborn too, And refractory ; ready to outface. Rather than do N 2 180 THE SCHOOL OF Thy duty : though thou know'st it must be so, Thou wilt not go The way thou shouldst, till some affliction First set thee right, then prick and spur thee on. Top-like thy figure and condition is. Neither to stand, Nor stir thyself alone, whilst thou dost miss An helping hand To set thee up, and store of stripes bestow To make thee go. Beg, then, thy blessed Saviour to transfer His scourges unto thee, to make thee stir. THE HEART. 181 THE HEDGING OF THE HEART WITH A CROWN OF THORNS. This thorny diadem, O heart, behold ; Thus hedg'd, no savage can approach the fold. HOSEA n. 6. I wiU hedge up thy way mth thorns. Epig. 45. JJE, that of thorns would gather roses, may In his own heart, if handled the right way. 182 THE SCHOOL OF Hearts hedg'd with Christ's crown of thorns, instead Of thorny cares, will sweetest roses breed. ODE XLV. A CROWN of thorns ! I thought so : ten to one, A crown without a thorn, there 's none : There 's none on earth, I mean ; what, shall I, then, Rejoice to see him crown 'd by men. By whom kings rule and reign ? Or shall I scorn And hate to see earth's curse, a thorn, Prepost'rously preferr'd to cro\Mi those brows, From whence all bliss and glory flows ? Or shall I both be clad. And also sad. To think it is a crown, and yet so bad ? There 's cause enough of both, I must confess : Yet what 's that unto me, unless I take a course his cro\vn of thorns may be Made mine, transfen-'d from him to me ? Crowns, had they been of stars, could add no more Glory, where there was all before ; And thorns might scratch him, could not make him worse. Than he was made, sin and a curse. Come, then, mine heart, take down Thy Saviour's crown Of thorns, and see if thou canst make 't thine own. THE HEART. 183 Remember, first, thy Saviour's head was crown'd By the same hands that did him wound : They meant it not to honour, but to scorn him. When in such sort they had betom him. Think earthly honours such, if they redound : Never believe they mind to dignify Thee, that thy Christ would cnicify. Think ev'ry crown a thorn. Unless to adorn Thy Christ, as well as him by whom 'tis worn. Consider, then, that as the thorny crown Circled thy Saviour's head, thine own Continual care to please him, and pro\-ide For the advantage of his side, ^lust fence thine actions and affections so, That they shall neither dare to go Out of that compass, nor vouchsafe access To what might make that care go less. Let no such thing draw nigh, Which shall not spy Thorns ready plac'd to prick it till it die. Thus, compass'd with thy Saviour's thorny crown. Thou may'st securely sit thee down. And hope that he, who made of water wine, Will turn each thorn into a vine, 184 THE SCHOOL OF Where thou may'st gather grapes, and, to delight thee, Roses : nor need the prickles fright thee. Thy Saviour's sacred temples took away The curse that in their sharpness lay. So thou may'st crowned be. As well as he. And, at the last, light in his light shall see. THE HEART. 185 THE HEART PIERCED ^^^TH THE NAIL OF GODS FEAR. With holy fear let my heart fast'ned be, O thou, once fast'ned to the cross for me. THE FASTENING OF THE HEART. JER. XXXn. 40. / icill put my fear in their hearts, thai they shall not depart from me. Epig. 46. 'J'HOU that wast nailed to the cross for me, Lest I should slip, and fall away from thee, 186 THE SCHOOL OF Drive home thine holy fear into mine heart, And clinch it so, that it may ne'er depaii. ODE XLVI. What ! dost thou struggle to get loose again ! Hast thou so soon forgot the former pain. That thy licentious bondage unto sin, And lust-enlarged thraldom, put thee in ? Hast thou a mind again to rove, and ramble Rogue-like, a vagrant through the world, and scramble For scraps and crusts of earth-bred, base delights, And change thy days of joy for tedious nights Of sad repentant sorrow ! What ! wilt thou borrow That grief to-day, which thou must pay to-morrow ? No, self-deceiving heart, lest thou shouldst cast Thy cords away, and burst the bands at last Of thy Redeemer's tender love, I '11 try What further fastness in his fear doth lie. The cords of love soaked in lust may rot, And bands of bounty are too oft forgot : But holy filial fear, like to a nail Fasten'd in a sure place, will never fail. This driven home, will take Fast hold, and make Thee that thou darest not thy God forsake. THE HEART. 18 ( Remember how, besides thy Saviour's bands, Wherewith they led him bound, his holy hands And feet were pierced, how they nail'd him fast Unto his bitter cross, and how at last His precious side was gored with a spear : So hard sharp-pointed iron and steel did tear His tender flesh, that from those wounds might flow The sov'reign salve for sin-procured woe. Then, that thou may'st not fail Of that avail. Refuse not to be fasten'd \s-ith his nail. Love in a heart of flesh is apt to taint. Or be fly-blown with folly : and its faint. And feeble spirits, when it shows most fair. Are often fed on by the empty air Of popular applause, unless the salt Of holy fear in time prevent the fault : But, season'd so, it will be kept for ever. He that doth fear, because he loves, will never Adventure to ofi"end, But always bend His best endeavours to content his friend. Though perfect love cast out all servile fear. Because such fear hath torment : yet thy dear Redeemer meant not so to set thee free, That filial fear and thou should strangers be. 188 THE SCHOOL OF Though, as a son, thou honour him thy Father, Yet, as a Master, thou may'st fear him rather. Fear 's the soul's centinel, and keeps the heart. Wherein love lodges, so, that all the art And industry of those. That are its foes, Cannot betray it to its former woes. THE HEART. 189 THE NEW WINE OF THE HEART OUT OF THE PRESS OF THE CROSS. Behold, the Cyprian clusters now are press'd ; Accept the wrine, it flows to make thee bless'd. PSALM CIV. 15. Wine that maJceth glad the, heart of man. Epig. 47. (^HRIST the true vine, grape, cluster, on the cross Trod the wine-press alone, unto the loss 190 THE SCHOOL OF Of blood and life. Draw, thankful heart, and spare not : Here 's wine enough for all, save those that care not. ODE XLVn. Leave not thy Saviour now, whate 'er thou dost, Doubtful, distrustful heart ; Thy former pains and labours all are lost. If now thou shalt depart, And faithlessly fall off at last from him. Who, to redeem thee, spar'd nor life nor limb. Shall he, that is thy cluster and thy vine. Tread the wine-press alone, Whilst thou stand'st looking on ? Shall both the wine And work be all his own ? See how he bends, crush'd with the straighten'd screw Of that fierce wrath that to thy sins was due. Although thou canst not help to bear it, yet Thrust thyself under too, That thou may'st feel some of the weight, and get, Although not strength to do. Yet will to suffer something as he doth. That the same stress at once may squeeze you both. Thy Saviour being press'd to death, there ran Out of his sacred wounds That wine that maketh glad the heart of man, And all his foes confounds ; THE HEART. 191 Yea, the full-flowing fountain 's open still, For all grace-thirsting hearts to drink their fill : And not to drink alone, to satiate Their longing appetites. Or drown those cumb'rous cares that would abate The edge of their delights ; But, when they toil, and soil themselves with sin, Both to refresh, to purge, to cleanse them in. Thy Saviour hath begun this cup to thee. And thou must not refuse 't. Press then thy sin-swoln sides, until they be Empty, and fit to use 't. Do not delay to come, when he doth call ; Nor fear to want, where there 's enough for all. Thy bounteous Redeemer, in his blood, Fills thee not wine alone, But likewise gives his flesh to be thy food. Which thou may'st make thine own, And feed on him who hath himself reveal'd The bread of life, by God the Father seal'd. Nay, he 's not food alone, but physic too, WTienever thou art sick ; And in thy weakness strength, that thou may'st do Thy duty, and not stick 192 THE SCHOOL OF At any thing that he requires of thee, How hard soever it may seem to be. Make all the haste, then, that thou canst to come, Before the day be past ; And think not of returning to thy home, Whilst yet the light doth last. The longer and the more thou draw'st this wine, Still thou shalt find it more and more divine. Or if thy Saviour think it meet to throw Thee in the press again. To suffer as he did ; yet do not grow Displeased at thy pain : A summer season follows winter weather : Suff'ring, you shall be glorified together. REV. xxn. 17. The Spirit and the bt^ide saj/, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. And let him that is athirst come. And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely. 193 THE CONCLUSION. JS this my period ? Have I now no more To do hereafter ? Shall my mind give o'er Its best emplojrment thus, and idle be, Or busied otherwise 1 Should I not see How to improve my thoughts more thriftily, Before I lay these Heart-School lectures by ? Self-knowledge is an everlasting task, An endless work, that doth not only ask A whole man for the time, but challengeth To take up all his hours until death. Yet, as in other schools, they have a care To call for repetitions, and are Busied as well in seeking to retain "What they have leam'd already, as to gain Further degrees of knowledge, and lay by Invention, whilst they practise memory : So must I likewise take some time to view What I have done, ere I proceed anew. Perhaps I may have cause to interline, To alter, or to add : the work is mine, And I may manage it as I see best. With my great Master's leave. Then here I rest 194 THE CONCLUSION. From taking out new lessons, till I see How I retain the old in memory. And if it be his pleasure, I shall say These lessons before others, that they may Or learn them too, or only censure me ; I '11 wait with patience the success to see. And though I look not to have leave to play (For that this school allows not,) yet I may Another time, perhaps, if they approve Of these, such as they are, and show their love To the School of the Heart, by calling for 't. Add other lessons more of the like sort. THE LEARNING OF THE HEART. THE PREFACE. T AM a scholar. The great Lord of love And life my tutor is ; who, from above, All that lack learning, to his school in%4tes. My heart 's my prayer-book, in which he writes Systems of all the arts and faculties : First reads to me, then makes me exercise, But all in paradoxes, such high strains As flow from none but love-inspired brains : Yet bids me publish them abroad, and dare T' extol his arts above all other arts that are. Why should I not ? methinks it cannot be But they should please others as well as me. Come, then, join hands, and let our hearts embrace, Whilst thus Love's labyrinth of arts we trace ; I mean the Sciences call'd Liberal : Both Trivium and Quadrivium, seven in all. With the higher faculties. Philosophy ; And Law, and Physic, and Theology. 196 THE LEARNING OF THE GRAMMAR OF THE HEART. PSALM XV. 2, That speaketh the truth in his heart. ]yjY Grammar, I define to be an art Which teacheth me to write and speak mine heart ; By which I learn that smooth-tongu'd flatt'ries are False language, and, in love, irregular. Amongst my letters. Vow-wells, I admit Of none but Consonant to Sacred Writ : And therefore, when my soul in silence moans, Half-vowel'd sighs, and double deep-thong'd groans. Mute looks, and liquid tears instead of words, Are of the language that mine heart affords. And, since true love abhors all variations, My Grammar hath no moods nor conjugations, Tenses, nor persons, nor declensions. Cases, nor genders, nor comparisons : Whate'er my Letters are, my Word 's but one, And, on the meaning of it. Love alone. Concord is all my Syntax, and agreement Is in my Grammar perfect regiment. He wants no language that hath learn'd to love : When tongues are still, hearts will be heard above. THE HEART. 197 THE RHETORIC OF THE HEART. PSALM XLV. 1. My heart is inditing a good matter. A/JY Rhetoric is not so much an art, As an infused habit in mine heart, "Which a sweet secret elegance instils, And all my speech with tropes and figures fills. Love is the tongue's elixir, which doth change The ordinary sense of words, and rangg Them under other kinds ; dispose them so. That to the height of eloquence they grow, E'en in their native plainness, and must be So understood as liketh love and me. When I say Christ, I mean my Saviour ; When his commandment, my behaviour : For to that end it was he hither came. And to this purpose 'tis I bear his name. When I say, Hallow'd be thy name, he knows I would be holy : for his glory grows Together with my good, and he hath not Given more honour than himself hath got. So when I say. Lord, let thy kingdom come, He understands it, 1 would be at home. To reign with him in glory. So grace brings My Love, in me, to be the King of kings. He teacheth me to say. Thy ^il\ be done. But meaneth, he would have me do mine own, 198 THE LEARNING OF By making me to will the same he doth, And so to rule myself, and serve him both. So when he saith, My son, give me thine heart, I know his meaning is, that I should part With all I have for him, give him myself. And to be rich in him from worldly pelf. So when he says. Come to me, I know that he Means I should wait his coming unto me ; Since 'tis his coming unto me that makes Me come to him : my part he undertakes. And when he says. Behold I come, I know His purpose and intent is, I should go, With all the speed I can, to meet him whence His coming is attractive, draws me hence. Thick-folded repetitions in love Are no tautologies, but strongly move And bind unto attention. Exclamations Are the heart's heav'n-piercing exaltations. Epiphonoemas and Apostrophes Love likes of well, but no Prosopopes. Not doubtful but careful deliberations, Love holds as grounds of strongest resolutions. Thus love and I a thousand ways can find To speak and understand each other's mind ; And descant upon that which unto others Is but plain song, and all their music smothers. Nay, that which worldly wit- worms call nonsense, Is many times love's purest eloquence. THE HEART. 199 THE LOGIC OF THE HEART. 1 PETER m. 15. Be ready alvoays to give an amwer to every man thai a^leth yofii a reason of the hope that is in you. jyj Y Logic is the faculty of faith, Where all things are resolv'd into, He saith ; And ergos, drawn from trust and confidence, Twist and tie truths with stronger consequence Than either sense or reason : for the heart, And not the head, is fountain of this art. And what the heart objects, none can resolve But God himself, till death the frame dissolve. Nay, faith can after death dispute with dust. And argue ashes into stronger trust. And better hopes, than brass and marble can Be emblems of unto the outward man. All my invention is, to find what terms My Lord and I stand in : how he confirms His promises to me, how I inherit What he hath purchas'd for me by his merit. My judgment is submission to his will, And, when he once hath spoken, to be still. My method 's to be ordered by him ; What he disposeth, that I think most trim. 200 THE LEARNING OF THE HEART. Love's arguments are all, I will, Thou must ; What he says and commands, are true and just. When to dispute and argue 's out of season, Then to believe and to obey is reason. This bubble 's Man ; hope, fear, false joy, and trouble, Are those four winds which daily toss this babble. TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE {Both in Blood and Virtue) AND MOST ACCOMPLISHED LADY, MARY, COUNTESS OF DORSET, LADY GOVERNESS TO THE 5IOST ILLrSTRIOCS CHARLES, PRINCE OF GREAT BRITAIN, AND JAMES, DUKE OF ¥ORK. Excellent Lady, I present these tapers to bum under the safe pro- tection of your honourable name ; where, I presume, they stand secure from the damps of ignorance, and blasts of censure. It is a small part of that abundant service which my thankful heart oweth to your incom- parable goodness. Be pleased to honour it with your acceptance, which shall be nothing but what your own esteem shall make it. Madam, Your Ladyship's Most humble servant, Fran. Quarles. TO THE READER. If you are satisfied with my Emblems, I here set before you a second service. It is an Egyptian dish, dressed on the English fashion. They, at their feasts, used to present a death's-head at their second course : this will serve for both. You need not fear a surfeit : here is but little, and that light of digestion : if it but please your palate, I question not your stomach. Fall to, and much good may it do you. Convivio addit Minerval, E. B. Rem, Regem, Regimen, Regionem, Religionem, Exornat, celebrat, laudat, honorat, amat. HIEROGLYPHICS. 1. Sine Lumine inane. How canst thou thus be useful to the sight ? ^Vhat is the taper not endu'd with light ? PSALM LI. 5. Behold, I was shapen in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me. AT AN is mans A, B, C. There's none that can Read God aright, unless he first spell man : 206 HIEROGLYPHICS OP Man is the stairs, whereby his knowledge climbs To his Creator, though it oftentimes Stumbles for want of light, and sometimes trips For want of careful heed ; and sometimes slips Through unadvised haste ; and when at length His weary steps have reach'd the top, his strength Oft fails to stand ; his giddy brains turn round. And, Phaeton-like, falls headlong to the ground : These stairs are often dark, and full of danger To him, whom want of practice makes a stranger To this blind way ; the lamp of nature lends But a false light, and lights to her own ends. These be the ways to heav'n, these paths require A light that springs from that diviner fire. Whose human soul-enlight'ning sun-beams dart Through the bright crannies of the' immortal part. And here, thou great original of light, Whose error-chasing beams do unbenight The very soul of darkness, and untwist -A The clouds of ignorance ; do thou assist My feeble quill : reflect thy sacred rays Upon these lines, that they may light the ways That lead to thee ; so guide my heart, my hand. That I may do what others understand. Let my heart practise what my hand shall write ; Till then, I am a taper wanting light. This golden precept, " Know thyself," came down From Heav'n's high court : it was an art unknown THE LIFE OF MAN. 207 To flesh and blood. The men of nature took Great journeys in it ; their dim eyes did look But through the mist ; like pilgrims, they did spend Their idle steps, but knew no journey's end. The way to know thyself, is first to cast Thy frail beginning, progress, and thy last : This is the sum of man ; but now return, And view this taper standing in this urn. Behold her substance sordid and impure, Useless and vain, (wanting light) obscure : 'Tis but a span at longest, nor can last Beyond that span ; ordain'd and made to waste ; E'en such was man (before his soul gave light To this vile substance) a mere child of night ; Ere he had life, estated in his urn. And mark'd for death ; by nature bom to bum : Thus lifeless, lightless, worthless, first began That glorious, that presumptuous thing, call'd man. 208 HIEROGLYPHICS OF S. August. Consider, man, what thou wert before thy birth, and what thou art from thy birth to thy death, and what thou shalt be after death : thou wert made of an impure substance, clothed and nourished in thy mother's blood. Epig. 1. Forbear, fond taper : what thou seek'st, is fire : Thy own destruction 's lodg'd in thy desire ; Thy wants are far more safe than their supply : He that begins to live, begins to die. THE LIFE OF MAN. 209 Netcius unde. At length thou seest it catch the liTing flagie. But know'st not whence the emanation (^me. GEN. I. 3. And God said, Let there be light; and there was light. •JHIS flame-expecting taper hath at length Received fire, and now begins to bum : 210 HIEROGLYPHICS OF It hath no vigour yet, it hath no strength ; Apt to be puff'd and quench'd at ev'ry turn: It was a gracious hand that thus endow'd This snuff with flame : but mark, this hand doth shroud Itself from mortal eyes, and folds it in a cloud. Thus man begins to live. An unknown flame Quickens his finish'd organs, now possest With motion ; and which motion doth proclaim An active soul, though in a feeble breast ; But how, and when infus'd, ask not my pen ; Here flies a cloud before the eyes of men : I cannot tell thee how, nor canst thou tell me when. Was it a parcel of celestial fire, Infus'd by Heav'n into this fleshly mould ? Or was it (think you) made a soul entire ? Then, was it new-created ? or of old ? Or is 't a propagated spark, rak'd out From nature's embers ? While we go about By reason to resolve, the more we raise a doubt. If it be part of that celestial flame, It must be e'en as pure, as free from spot, As that eternal fountain whence it came : If pure and spotless, then whence came the blot 1 THE LIFE OF MAN. 211 Itself being pure, could not itself defile ; Nor hath unactive matter pow'r to soil Her pure and active form, as jars corrupt their oil. Or if it were created, tell me when ? If in the first six days, where kept till now ? Or if thy soul were new-created, then Heav'n did not all, at first, he had to do : Six days expired, all creation ceas'd ; All kinds, e'en from the greatest to the least, Were finish'd and complete before the day of rest. But why should man, the lord of creatures, want That privilege which plants and beasts obtain ? Beasts bring forth beasts, the plant a perfect plant. And ev'ry like brings forth her like again ; Shall fowls and fishes, beasts and plants convey Life to their issue, and man less than they ? Shall these get living souls, and man dead lumps of clay ? Must human souls be generated then ? My water ebbs ; behold, a rock is nigh : If nature's work produce the souls of men, Man's soul is mortal : all that 's bom must die. What shall we then conclude ? what sunshine will Disperse this gloomy cloud ? till then be still. My vainly-striving thoughts ; lie down, my puzzled quill. r2 212 HIEROGLYPHICS OF IsiDOR. Why dost thou wonder, man, at the height of th^ stars, or the depth of the sea ; enter into thine own soul, and wonder there. Thy soul, by creation, is infused; by infusion, created. Epig. 2. What art thou now the better by this flame ? Thou know'st not how, nor when, nor whence it came ; Poor kind of happiness ! that can return No more account but this, to say, I bum. THE LIFE OF MAN. 213 3. Quo me cunque trapit. My feeble light is thus toss'd to and fro, The sport of all the envious winds that blow. PSALM cm. 16. The wind passeth over it, and it is gone. "f^O sooner is this lighted taper set Upon the transitory stage 214 HIEROGLYPHICS OF Of eye-bedark'ning night, But it is straight subjected to the threat Of envious winds, whose wasteful rage Disturbs her peaceful light, And makes her substance waste, and makes her flames less bright. No sooner are we born, no sooner come To take possession of this vast. This soul-afflicting earth, .' .^ But danger meets us at the very womb ; And sorrow, with her fuU-mouth'd blast. Salutes our painful birth. To put out all our joys," and puff out all our mirth. Nor infant innocence, nor childish tears, Nor youthful wit, nor manly power, Nor politic old age. Nor virgin's pleading, nor the widow's prayers, Nor lowly cell, nor lofty tower, Nor prince, nor peer, nor 'page. Can 'scape this common blast,.or curb her stormy rage. Our life is but a pilgrimage of blasts, And ev'ry blast brings forth a fear ; And ev'ry fear a death ; The more it lengthens, ah I the more it wastes : Where, were we to continue here THE LIFE OF MAN. 215 The days of long-liv'd Seth, Our soiTows would renew, as we renew our breath. Toss'd to and fro, our frighted thoughts are driven With eVry puff, with ev'ry tide Of life-consuming care ; Our peaceful flame, that would point up to Heaven, Is still disturb'd, and turn'd aside; And ev'ry blast of air Commits such waste in man, as man cannot repair. We are all born debtors, and we firmly stand Oblig'd for our first parents' debt, Besides our interest ; Alas ! we have no harmless counterbond : And we are ev'ry hour beset With threat'nings of arrest, And, till we pay the debt, we can expect no rest. What may this soiTow-shaken life present, To the false relish of our taste. That 's worth the name of sweet ? Her minute's pleasure 's chok'd with discontent, Her glory soil'd udth ev'ry blast ; How many dangers meet Poor man between the biggin and the winding-sheet ! g 216 HIEROGLYPHICS OF S. August. In the world, not to be grieved, not to be afflicted, not to be in danger, is impossible. Ibidem. Behold, the world is full of trouble, yet beloved : what if it were a pleasing world ? how wouldst thou delight in her calms, that canst so well endure her storms ? Epig. 3. Art thou consum'd with soul-afflicting crosses ? Disturb 'd with grief 1 annoy'd with worldly losses ? Hold up thy head : the taper, lifted high, Will brook the wind, when lower tapers die. THE LTFE OF MAN. 217 Curando labascit. The flame by trimming bums more bright and fast. Bat often trimming makes the taper waste. MATT. IX. 12. The whole need not a pht/sician. ^LWAYS praning, always cropping Is her brightness still obscur'd ] 218 HIEROGLYPHICS OF Ever dressing, ever topping ? Always curing, never cur'd 1 Too much snuiRng makes a waste When the spirits spend too fast. They will shrink at ev'ry blast. You that always are bestowing Costly pains in life repairing, Are but always overthrowing Nature's work by over-caring : Nature, meeting with her foe, In a work she hath to do. Takes a pride to overthrow. Nature knows her own perfection. And her pride disdains a tutor ; Cannot stoop to art's conection, And she scorns a co-adjutor. Saucy art should not appear, Till she whisper in her ear : Hagar flees, if Sarah bear. Nature worketh for the better. If not hinder'd that she cannot ; Art stands by as her abettor. Ending nothing she began not ; If distemper chance to seize, (Nature foil'd with the disease,) Art may help her if she please. THE LIFE OF MAN. 219 But to make a trade of trying Drugs and doses, al^s'ays pruning, Is to die for fear of dpng ; He 's untun'd, that 's always tuning. He that often loves to lack Dear-bought drugs, hath found a knack To foil the man, and feed the quack. the sad, the frail condition Of the pride of nature's glory ! • How infirm his composition, And, at best, how transitory ! When this riot doth impair Nature's weakness, then his care Adds more ruin by repair. Hold thy hand, health's dear maintainer, Life, perchance, may bum the stronger : Ha\-ing substance to sustain her. She, untouch'd, may last the longer : WTien the artist goes about To redress her flame, I doubt, Oftentimes he snuffis it out. 220 HIEROGLYPHICS OF NiCOCLES. Physicians, of all men, are most happy ; what good success soever they have, the world proclaimeth ; and what faults they commit, the earth covereth. Epig. 4. My purse being heavy, if my light appear But dim, quack comes to make all clear ; Quack, leave thy trade ; thy dealings are not right, Thou tak'st our weighty gold to give us light. THE LIFE OF MAN. 221 Te auxiliante, returgo. The winds with all their breath may blow, in Vain, For by thy help I am revir'd again. PSALM XCI. 11. And he will give his angels charge mer thee. Q How mine eyes could please themselves, and spend Perpetual ages in this precious sight ! 222 HIEROGLYPHICS OF How I could woo eternity, to lend My wasting day, an antidote for night ! And how my flesh could with my flesh contend, That views this object with no more delight ! My work is great, my taper spends too fast : 'Tis all I have, and soon would out or waste. Did not this blessed screen protect it from this blast. 0, I have lost the jewel of my soul. And I must find it out, or I must die : Alas ! my sin-made darkness doth control The bright endeavour of my careful eye : I must go search and ransack ev'ry hole ; Nor have I other light to seek it by : if this light be spent, my work not done. My labour 's worse than lost; my jewel 's gone, And I am quite forlorn, and I am quite undone. You blessed angels, you that do enjoy The full fruition of eternal glory, Will you be pleased to fancy such a toy As man, and quit your glorious territory, And stoop to earth, vouchsafing to employ Your care to guard the dust that lies before ye ? Disdain you not these lumps of dying clay. That for your pains do oftentimes repay Neglect, if not disdain, and send you griev'd away ? THE LIFE OF MAX, 223 This taper of our lives, that once was plac'd In the fair suburbs of eternity, Is now, alas ! confin'd to ev'ry blast, And tum'd a maypole for the sporting fly ; And will you, sacred spirits, please to cast Your care on us, and lend a gracious eye ? How had this slender inch of taper been Blasted and blaz'd, had not this heavenly screen Curb'd the proud blast, and timely stepp'd between ! goodness, far transcending the report Of lavish tongues ! too vast to comprehend ! Amazing quill, how far dost thou come short To express expressions that so far transcend ! You blessed courtiers of the' eternal court, Whose full-mouth'd hallelujahs have no end. Receive that world of praises that belongs To your great Sov'reign ; fill your holy tongues With our hosannas mix'd with your seraphic songs. 224 HIEROGLYPHICS OF S. Bern. If thou desirest the help of angels, fly the comforts of the world, and resist the temptations of the devil. He will give his angels charge over thee. what reverence, what love, what confidence, deserveth so sweet a saying ! For their presence, reverence ; for their good will, love ; for their tuition, confidence. Epig. 5. My flame, art thou disturb'd, diseas'd, and driven To death with storms of grief ? point thou to Heaven : One angel there shall ease thee more alone, Than thrice as many thousands of thy own. THE LIFE OF MAN. 6. 225 Tempus eriU The time shall come when all must yield their breath : Till then, Time checks the' uplifted hand of Death. ECCLES. m. 1. To everything there is an appointed time. TIME. DEATH. Time. gEHOLD the frailty of this slender snuflP; Alas ! it hath not long to last ; Q 226 HIEROGLYPHICS OF Without the help of either thief or puff, Her weakness knows the way to waste : Nature hath made her substance apt enough To spend itself, and spend too fast : It needs the help of none, That is so prone To lavish out untouch'd, and languish all alone. Death, Time, hold thy peace, and shake thy slow- pac'd sand ; Thine idle minutes make no way : Thy glass exceeds her hour, or else doth stand ; I cannot hold, I cannot stay. Surcease thy pleading, and enlarge my hand ; I surfeit with too long delay : This brisk, this bold-fac'd light Doth bum too bright ; Darkness adorns my throne, my day is darkest night. Time. Great prince of darkness, hold thy needless hand ; Thy captive 's fast, and cannot flee : What arm can rescue, who can countermand ? What power can set thy pris'ner free ? Or if they could, what close, what foreign land Can hide that head that flees from thee ? THE LIFE OF MAN. 227 But if her harmless light Oflfend thy sight, What need'st thou snatch at noon, what will be thine at night ? Death. I have outstay'd my patience ; my quick trade Grows dull, and makes too slow return : This long-liv'd debt is due, and should been paid When first her flame began to burn : But I have stay'd too long, I have delay'd To store my vast, my craving urn. My patent gives me pow'r Each day, each hour. To strike the peasant's thatch, and shake the princely tower. Time. Thou count'st too fast : thy patent gives no power Till Time shall please to say, Amen. Death. Canst thou appoint my shaft ? Time. Or thou my hour? Death. 'Tis I bid, do. Time. 'Tis I bid, when; Alas ! thou canst not make the poorest flower To hang the drooping head till then : Thy shafts can neither kill. Nor strike, until My power gives them wings, and pleasure arms thy will. 228 HIEROGLYPHICS OF S. August. Thou knowest not what time he will come: wait always, that because thou knowest not the time of his coming, thou mayest be prepared against the time he Cometh. And for this, perchance, thou knowest not the time, because thou mayest be prepared against all times. Epig. 6. Expect, but fear not Death : Death cannot kill, Till Time (that first must seal her patent) will : Wouldst thou live long 1 keep Time in high esteem ; Whom gone, if thou canst not recall, redeem. THE LIFE OF MAN. 229 7. Nee sine, nee tecum. ' Nor with thee, nor without thee, is she bright : For thy fierce rays put out her feeble light JOB xvni. 6. His light shall he dark, and his candle shall be put out- "YyHAT ails our taper ? is her lustre fled, Or foil'd 1 What dire disaster bred This change, that thus she veils her droopiDg head ? 230 HIEROGLYPHICS OF It was but very now she shin'd as fair As Venus' star ; her glory might compare With Cynthia, bumish'd with her brother's hair. There was no cave-begotten damp that mought Abuse her beams ; no wind that went about To break her peace ; no puff to put her out. Lift up thy wondering thoughts, and thou shalt spy A cause will clear thy doubts, but cloud thine eye : Subjects must veil, when as their sov'reign's by. Canst thou behold bright Phoebus, and thy sight No whit impair 'd ? the object is too bright ; The weaker yields unto the stronger light. Great God, I am thy taper, thou my sun ; From thee, the spring of light, my light begun ; Yet if thy light but shine, my light is done. If thou withdraw thy light, my light will shine : If thine appear, how poor a light is mine ! My light is darkness, if compar'd to thine. Thy sunbeams are too strong for my weak eye ! If thou but shine, how nothing. Lord, am I ! Ah ! who can see thy visage, and not die ! THE LIFE OF MAN. 231 If intervening earth should make a night, My wanton flame would then shine forth too bright ; My earth would e'en presume to eclipse thy light. And if thy light be shadow'd, and mine fade, If thine be dark, and my dark light decay'd, I should be clothed with a double shade. What shall I do ? what shall I desire ? What help can my distracted thoughts require, That thus am wasted 'twixt a double fire ? In what a strait, in what a strait am I ! 'Twixt two extremes, how my rack'd fortunes lie ? See I thy face, or see it not, I die. let the steams of my Redeemer's blood. That breathes from my sick soul, be made a cloud, To interpose these lights, and be my shroud. Lord, what am I ! or what 's the light I have ! May it but light my ashes to their grave. And so from thence to thee ; 'tis all I crave. make my light, that all the world may see Thy glory by 't : if not, it seems to me Honour enough to be put out by thee. 2'32 HIEROGLYPHICS OF light inaccessible, in respect of which my light is utter darkness ; so reflect upon my weakness, that all the world may behold thy strength ! majesty incom- prehensible, in respect of which, my glory is mere shame : so shine upon my misery, that all the world may behold thy glory ! Epig. 7. Wilt thou complain, because thou art bereav'n Of all thy light 1 wilt thou vie lights with Heav'n ? Can thy bright eye not brook the daily light ? Take heed ; I fear, thou art a child of night. THE LIFE OF MAN. 233 -'^