A Buckler Against the Fear of Death, Poem

A Buckler Against the Fear of Death · Poem

Profitable and pious thoughts of Death.

Part I. Of Deaths certainty.

IN heav'ns high Parliament an act is pass'd,

Subscrib'd by that eternall Three in One,

That each created wight must one day tast

Of Deaths grim terrours: They exempted none

That sprang from Adam. All that red-earth-strain

Must to their earth again.

An ancient Register of burialls lies

In Gentsis, to let us understand

That whosoever is begotten dies,

And every sort is under Deaths command.

His Empire's large: Rich, poore, old, young, and all

Must go when he doth call.

Mans life's a book: and some of them are bound

Handsome and richly; some but meanly clad:

And for their matter, some of them are found

Learned and pious: others are too bad

For vilest fires: Both have their end.

There's a conclusion penn'd

As well as title-page; that's infancy.

The matter; that's the whole course of our lives.

One's Satans servant walking wickedly;

Another's pious, and in goodnesse thrives;

One's beggerly, another's rich and brave:

Both drop into the grave.

One man (a book in solio) lives till age

Hath made him crooked and put out his eyes:

His beard doth penance. And death in a rage

Mows down another whilst the infant cries

In's midwives lap: (that's an Epitome)

Both wear deaths liverie.

God made not death: Whence are we mortall then?

Sure Sinne's the parent of this pale-fac'd foe;

Nought else did hatch it: and the first of men

He was Deaths grandfather: And all the wo

That in this or the next life we are in

Is caused by our sinne.

Meditation 1.

IF I must dye, I'll catch at every thing

That may but mind me of my latest breath.

Deaths-heads, graves, knells, blacks, tombs, all these shall bring

Into my soul such usefull thoughts of death,

That this sable King of fears,

Though in chiefest of my health

He behind me come by stealth,

Shall not catch me unawares.

When-e're I visit any dying friend,

Each sigh and …, and every death-bed-grone

Shall reade me such a lecture of mine end,

That I'll suppose his case will be mine own.

As this poore man here doth lie

Rack'd all o're with deadly pain,

Never like to rise again,

Time will come when so must I.

Thus ghastly shall I look, thus every part

Of me shall suffer, thus my lips shall …hrivel,

My teeth shall grin, and thus my drooping heart

Shall smoke out sighs and grones; and all the evil

Which I see this man lye under,

What sinne earns and death doth pay,

I shall feel another day.

Sinne from torment who can sunder?

Thus will my mournfull friends about me come:

My livelesse carca…e shall be stretched out.

I must be packing to my longest home:

Thus will the mourners walk the streets about.

Thus for me the bells will toll:

Thus must I bid all adieu,

World, and wife, and children too:

Thus must I breathe out my soul.

At others fun'ralls when I see a grave,

That grave shall mind me of mortalitie.

I'll think that such a lodging I must have:

Thus in the pit my bones must scattered he;

Here one bone and there another,

Here my ribs, and there my scull,

And my mouth of earth be full.

I must call the worms my mother.

When I do look abroad, methinks I see

A fun'rall Sermon penn'd in every thing.

Each creature s… …aks me mortall: Yonder tree,

Which, not a quarter since, the glorious spring

Had most proudly cloth'd in green,

And was tall, and young, and strong,

Now the ax hath laid along:

Nothing but his stump is seen.

And yonder fruitfull valleys yesternight

Did laugh and sing, they stood so thick with corn:

In was the sickle, and't was cut down quite,

And not a sheaf will stand tomorrow morn.

Yonder beauteous imp… of May,

Pretty eye-delighting flowers,

Whose face heav'n doth wash with showers

To put on their best aray:

I saw the fair'st, the Lily, and Carnation,

And coy Adonis particoloured sonne,

Subject to such a sudden alteration

That in a day their fading beauty's gone.

This tree, this corn, and this flower,

Or what things else vainest are,

To my self I do compare,

Who may die within this houre.

Meditation 2.

I'LL ne'r be proud of beauty if I must

Be blemish'd when I die: And if the grave

Will mix my beauty with the vilest dust,

What profits pride? Reader, I'll pardon crave

Here to set you down a story

Of as rare and fair a She

As the Sunne did ever see,

Whom Death robb'd of all her glory.

I once saw Phoebus in his mid-day sline

Triumphing like the Sovereigne of the skies,

Untill two brighter rayes, both more divine,

Outblazed his: and they were this Nymphs eyes.

Forthwith Sol curtain'd his light,

Looking very red for shame

To be vanquish'd by this Dame,

And did slink out of her sight.

I once saw silver Cynthia, nights fair Queen,

In her full orb dimming each lesser flame,

Till this Nymphs beauty-vying front was seen

Outshining hers: then she look'd wan for shame.

The man in her, knew he how

But to quit that giddy place,

She had so divine a face,

Would have dwelt upon her brow.

Once was this woman pleas'd to walk the fields

Then proudly fragrant with Dame Flora's store:

The damask rose unto her beauty yields,

And was contented to be fair no more.

Sure I cannot say how truly,

Yet 'mongst many 't was a fame,

That the rose did blush for shame,

And the violet look'd most bluly.

Once did this woman to the temple go,

Where doth fair Venus marble-statue lie

Cut to the life, that one can hardly know

But that it lives indeed: When she came nigh,

He who then the temple kept

After would be often telling

She was so super-excelling

That for mad the marble wept.

Melodious musick's warbled by the spheres;

Swans sing their Epitaphs in curious layes,

Once with a singing Swan a part she bears:

As soon's those corall doores dismiss'd her voice,

The poore Swan held his peace and di'd:

And the spheres (as men do say)

Dumbly move unto this day.

This was by a rivers side.

What think you now of such a glorious woman?

This Phoenix sure was she, if any might,

That might be proud: And yet the tongue of no man

Can well expresse, nor any pen can write

What grim death hath done unto her;

Now she's of another feature,

Hardly can you know the creature:

Stay a while, and we will view her.

Th' almighty King that dwells above in heaven

Directs to's high Shrieve Death a certain writ,

Wherein a strait imperiall charge was given,

At's utmost peril forthwith on sight of it

To arrest that piece of beauty

And to wrap her up in clay

'Gainst the last great judgement-day.

Death address'd him to his duty;

And with great care gives warrant by and by

Unto his baillifs, Fever, Pox, and Gout,

Phrensie, Strangury, Colick, Squinancy,

Consumption, Dropsie, and an ugly rout

Beside these, for to assail her:

Deaths command was, that they must

Tie her fast in chains of dust:

He gave charge that none should bail her.

You would not think with what a furious pace

These catchpoles flie to pull this creature down:

But Pox was nimblest; she got to her face

And plow'd it up. This hag goes in a gown

Rugged and of colour tawny,

Button'd o're from top to toe;

(Skin-deep beauties deadly foe)

Uglier hag was never any.

Fain would the rest have fastned on her too,

But that this hag had frighted out her soul.

Now looks her carcase of another hue,

Grim, ugly, lothsome, ghastly, and as foul

As did ever eye look on.

What's become of that complexion

Which held all hearts in subjection?

In a moment all is gone.

If we might be so bold to dig the grave

Some few years hence where this good woman lies,

Sure we should find this beauty but a slave

To pallid putrefaction, and a prize

For those silly vermine worms:

As they crawl in stinking swarms

She doth hug them in her arms,

And doth give them suck by turns.

Here's a deformed lump indeed: and this

Must be the fortune of the fairest face.

None then are proud but fools: They love amisse

Whose hearts are chain'd to any thing but grace.

From the beauty of the skin

In the loveliest outward part,

Lord, vouchsafe to turn my heart

To love that which is within.

Meditation 3.

IF Death will come, sure there will come an end

Of all this worlds deep-biting misery.

Nothing adverse that's here on earth doth tend

Beyond the grave: that's a delivery

From the pow'r of men and devils,

And what-ever other wo

May befall us here below

Death's a …helter from all evils.

Here I am poore: my daily drops of sweat

Will not maint…in my full-stock'd family:

A dozen hungry children crie for meat,

And I have none; nor will words fatisfie.

Could I give their belly ears,

'Twere a comfort, or could fill

Hungry stomacks with good will,

Or make daily bread of tears.

Here the oppressour with his griping claws

Sits on my skirts: my racking land-lord rears

Both rent and fine; with potent looks he aws

Me from mine own. Scarce any man but bears

In his bosome Ahabs heart.

Horse-leach-like that's ever craving

Other mens, and sick of having,

Right or wrong, will catch a part.

Here in these clay-built houses sicknesse reigns:

I have more maladies then I can name:

Each member of my body hath its pains.

Moreover, weeping, groning, sadnesse, shame,

Slanders, m…lancholy, fear,

Discontents, disgraces, losses,

And a thousand other crosses

Must be born if I live here.

But these are finite all. When I am dead

My poverty is ended and my care:

I heare my samish'd children crie for bread

No longer. Then I drink, I lodge, I fare

Just as well as Caesar doth:

There ends cold and nakednesse,

All my former wretchednesse.

Death is meat, and drink, and cloth.

There's no face grinding: There the mighty cease

From troubling; there the weary be at rest:

The servant's freed; the pris'ner is at ease:

All's still and quiet; no man is oppress'd:

For incroachers there are none.

Not a poore man's wronged, nor

Is his vineyard longed for:

Every man may keep his own.

Sicknesse there's none: when-ever Death shall take

My body hence and lodge it in the clay,

I shall not feel a tooth or finger ake,

Nor any other misery that may

In the least degree displease me.

For all sores the grave hath plasters,

And it cureth all disasters:

Of all burdens Death will ease me.

Malicious tongues fired below in hell

There will not hurt me; nor the poisonous breath

Of whispering detractours: I shall dwell

Securely in the dust. One stroke of Death

Sets me out of gun-shot quite;

Not the deepest piercing tongue

Can there do me any wrong:

Bark they may, but cannot bite.

Lord, I am thine: and if it be thy will,

While I do live a stranger here below,

Brim-high with bitternesse my cup to fill,

And make me drink 't; yet, Lord, withall bestow

But thy grace, and thou shalt see me

Patient: and my comfort's this,

That a short affliction 't is:

In a moment Death may free me.

Meditation 4.

IF I must die, it must be my endeavour

So to provide that every thought of Death

May be a thought of comfort: that when-ever

That aged sire shall take away my breath,

I may willingly lay down

This old house that's made of clay,

Gladly welcoming the day

That brings an eternall crown.

But of all things a holy life's the way

Must lead me to a comfortable end,

To crucifie my lusts, and to obey

Gods sacred will in all things: This doth tend

Unto comfort, joy and ease.

Mark the man that is upright,

And sets God alwayes in a sight,

That mans end is ever peace.

What makes me fear a serpent? 't is …sting;

The mischief's there: When that is taken out,

I can look on him as a harmlesse thing,

And in my bosome carry him about.

What makes Death look …?

No… Deaths self: it is his sting

That doth fear and horrour bring,

And makes men so loth to die.

The sting of death is sinne: but there's a Jesus

Hath pluck'd it out. The guilt's done quite away;

The stain is wash'd. He sent his Spirit to ease us

In some good measure of that kingly sway

Which o're us sinne held before.

Blessed work of grace! now I

Strongest lusts can …:

In my soul sinne reigns no more.

Now in me holinesse is wrought: which is

A pious disposition of the heart,

Inclining me to hate what's done amisse

In me and others, never to depart

From God to left hand or right,

Nor one of his laws to break;

But to think and do and speak

What's well-pleasing in …us sight.

Each act from faith and love ariseth, and

The end I aim at is my Makers praise;

His word's my rule: my warrant's his command.

Thus am I fitted: Death, cut off my dayes,

If thou wilt, within this houre,

I will thank thee for thy pain:

For to me to die is gain.

I'll not fear a jote thy power.

What canst thou do that justly may affright me?

Though with thee in the dark I dwell a space,

Yet canst thou not eternally benight me:

Thou art my passage to a glorious place,

Where shall not be any night.

My rais'd ashes shall enjoy

There an everlasting day,

And an uneclipsed light.

I fear not death because of putrefaction,

Nor (if I might) would willingly decline it:

My body gains by 't; 't is the graves best action:

God, as a founder, melts it to refine it.

Death cannot annihilate,

And in despite of the grave,

Yet I shall a body have,

Fairer and in better state.

Gods second work excells his first by ods:

Our second birth, life, Adam, to repair

Our bodies, is a second work of Gods,

To make them better then at first they were,

Glorious, immortall, sound,

Nimble, beautifull, and so

Splendid that from top to toe

Not a blemish may be sound.

What begger weeps when's rags are thrown away

To put on better clothes? Who is 't will grieve

To pull a rotten house down, that it may

Be fairer built? Why should we not receive

Death with both hands when he comes

To pull off those rags that hide us,

To unhouse us, and provide us

Richer clothes and better homes?

The griping pangs of Death do not affright

My heart at all: I have deserved mo.

And if upon no other terms I might

Enjoy my God, I to my God would go

Through hells self, although a throng

Of an hundred thousand juries

Of the black'st infernall Furies

Claw'd me as I went along.

Nor can those inward terrours make me quake

Which Death-beds often on the soul do bring.

I have no Death-bed-reck'nings for to make;

'T was made while I was well, and every thing

Was dispatch'd before, that I

Nothing in the world now, save

Home-desiring longings, have

Then to do but just to die.

Nor doth it trouble me that Death will take me

From those delights that are enjoy'd below.

Alas, I know that none of them can make me

One jote the happier man, nor can bestow

Any comfort. Carnall gladnesse,

Mirth, delight and jolli…y,

This worlds best felicitie,

All is vanity and madnesse;

Mere empty husks. Had I as many treasures

In my possession as the muddiest wretch

Did ever cover, and as many pleasures

As from the creature fleshly men can fetch;

Had I this: or if I were

Supreme Monarch, onelyonly Lord

Of what earth and sea afford:

Yet I would not settle here.

To be dissolv'd is better: Death doth bring

A fairer fortune then it takes away.

It sets us in a world where every thing

Is a happinesse, a full and solid joy,

Not to be conceiv'd before

We come thither: but the blisse

Which exceedeth all is this,

That there we shall sinne no more.

Lord, grant a copious portion of thy Spirit.

The more I have of that the lesse I fear

What Death can do; for sure I shall inherit

All joy in heaven if I am holy here:

Nought suits with heaven but sanctitie.

Let, my God, thy Spirit and grace

Fit me for that holy place

And that holy companie.

Meditation 5.

IF Death will come, what do men mean to sinne

With so much greedinesse? me thinks I see

What a sad case the godlesse world is in,

How fast asleep in her securitie.

Fearlessely in sinne men live,

As if Death would never come,

Or there were no day of doom

When they must a reck'ning give.

Observe a little yonder black-mouth'd swearer,

How's tongue with oathes and …pelts the skies:

'T would grieve the heart of any pious hearer

But to bear witnesse of his blasphem…es.

He darts wounds at God on high,

Puts on cursing as his clothes,

And doth wrap his tongue in oathes

To abuse Eternity.

In law lesse lust the fornicatour fries,

And longs to slake it 'twixt forbidden …:

Ne'r sets the sunne but his adulterous eyes

Observes the twilight, and his harlot meets.

That which follows, when the night

Draws its curtain o'r the air

To conceal this goatish pair,

Modesty forbids to write.

And I could shew you (were it worth the viewing)

In that room three or foure drunkards reeling:

In this, as many more that sweat with spewing;

Some that have drunk away their sense and feeling;

Men of all sorts in their wine

And their ale sit domineering,

Cursing, railing, roring, swearing,

Under every baser signe.

'T is said (so vile is this big-belly'd sinne)

That in a day and lesse some foure or five

Of lustie drunken throats will swallow in

More then hath kept two families alive

A whole forthnight (yet made they

Merrie with 't.) Had I my wishes,

Such gulls should not drink like fishes;

But their throats should chāge their trade

The covetous man with his usurious clutches

Doth cat…h and hold fast all the wealth he may:

He leans on 't as a creeple on his crutches.

The miser studies nothing night and day

But his gain: he's like a swine

Looking downward, like a mole

Blind, and of an earthen soul,

Minding nothing that's divine.

These, and beside these other sorts of sinners,

In every parish you may dayly see

As greedy at their sinnes as at their dinners,

And wallowing in all impiety.

Sure these miscreants do never

Entertein a thought of dying;

Nor yet are afraid of frying

In hell flames for altogether.

Thou God of spirits, be pleas'd to aw my heart

With death and judgement: that, when I would sinne,

I may remember that I must depart,

And whatsoe're condition I am in

When I sink under Deaths hand,

(There's no penance in the grave,

Nor then can I mercy have)

So must I in judgement stand.

Meditation 6.

Lord, what a thief is Death! it robs us quite

Of all the world; great men, of all their honours;

Luxurious men, of all their fond delight;

Rich men, of all their money, farms and mannours.

Naked did the world find us,

And the world will leave us so:

We shall carrie when we go

Nothing, but leave all behind us.

Let Death do's worst, ambitious men do climb

By any sinne though it be ne're so soul:

Gold-thirsty misers swallow any crime

That brings gain with it, though it kill the soul.

Here for gain is over-reaching,

Cosening, cheating, lying, stealing,

Knavish and sinister dealing;

All arts of the devils teaching.

Whilst I am well advis'd I'll never strive

T' increase my wealth, if't will increase my sinne:

I will be rather poore then seek to thrive

By means unlawfull: all's not worth a pinne.

When mine eye-lid… Death doth close,

What I sinned for must be

Shak'd hands with eternally,

But the sinne that with me goes.

I'll not wast love upon these lower things,

Nor on the choicest of them do…ing sit:

For when sad Death a habeas corpus brings,

To take the world from me and me from it,

'Gainst which I have no protection;

To spend love in what I may

No where but on earth enjoy,

Were to loose all my affection.

The longest lease of temporalls God doth make

Is but for life. I'll patiently behave

My self, though from me God be pleas'd to take

In middle age that which his bounty gave:

Neither discontent nor passion

Shall make me repine or grumble;

'T is a way to make me humble,

And takes from me a temptation.

Thou mad'st my heart, Lord: keep it for thy self,

Lest love of dust eternally undo me:

Vouchsafe that this vain worthlesse empty pelf

May never win me, though it daily woo me.

If 't were lovely, yet 't is gone

When I dy. Lord, make me see

That there is enough in thee

To place all my love upon.

Meditation 7.

I Am a stranger and a pilgrime here:

The world's mine inne, 't is not my dwelling-place;

(In this condition all my fathers were)

The life I live below is but a race.

Here I sojourn some few yeares:

This world is a countrey strange;

Death my pilgrimage will change

For a home above the spheares.

In elder time the goddesse Quiet had

Her temple, but 't was plac'd without the gates

Of Ethnick Rome; to …hew that good and bad

Have here their vexing and disturbing fates,

And do bear their crosse about

Whilst within the walls they stay

Of this world, and shall enjoy

No rest till Death let them out.

Here I am look'd upon with divers eyes,

Sometimes of envy, sometimes of disdain:

Here I endure a thousand miseries:

Some vex my person, some my credit stain;

My estate's impair'd by some:

But yet this doth comfort me,

That hereafter I shall be

Better us'd when I come home.

In all estates my patience shall sustein me:

I am resolved never to repine

Though ne'r so coursely this world entertein me:

Such is a strangers lot; such must be mine.

Were I of the world, to dwell

Here as in my proper home,

Without thoughts of life to come,

Then the world would use me well.

I am not of their minds in whom appears

No care for any world but this below:

Who lay up goods in store for many years,

As if they were at home; but will bestow

Neither care nor industry

Upon heaven, as if there

They were strangers, but had here

A lease of eternitie.

The banish'd Naso weeps in sable strain

The woes of banishment: nor could I tell,

If Death and it were offer'd, of the twain

Which to make choice of. O! to take farewell

Of our native soil, to part

With our friends and children dear,

And a wife that is so near,

Must needs kill the stoutest heart.

What i…'t then to be absent from that house,

Eternall in the heav'ns, not made with hands!

From Angels, Saints, God, Christ himself, whose Spouse

Our soul is! from a haven where nothing lands

That defileth; where's no danger,

No fear, no pain, no distresse:

All '… eternall happinesse!

What is't to be here a stranger!

I have been oft abroad, yet ne'r could find

Half that contentment which I found at home;

Me thought that nothing suited with my mind

Into what place soever I did come:

Though I nothing needed there,

Neither clothes, nor drink, nor meat,

Nor fit recreations, yet

Me thought home exceeded farre.

Thither did my affections alwayes bend;

And I have wish'd, before I came half-way,

A thousand times, my journey at an end,

And have been angry with a minutes stay:

Sunne-set I did ever fear;

And a hill or dirty mile,

That delay'd me but a while,

Seem'd to set me back a yeare.

I built not tabernacles in mine inne,

Nor ever cry'd out, 'T is good being here.

No company would I be ever in

That drown'd but half an … our in wine or bier.

I have wish'd my horse would runne

With a farre more winged speed

Then those skittish jades that did

Draw the chariot of the Sunne.

From carnall self-love, Lord, my heart unsetter,

And then shall I desire my heavenly home

More then this here, because that home is better,

And pray with fervency, Thy kingdome come.

Lord, had thy poore servant done

What thou hast set him about,

I would never be without

Holy longings to be gone.

Meditation 8.

THere was a State, as I have heard it spoken,

(The tale doth almost all belief surpasse)

That had a custome never to be broken,

(But a bad custome I am sure it was)

'Mongst themselves their King to choose:

The elected man must be

King as long's they would, and he

When they pleas'd his crown must loose.

This State elected and deposed when

And whom they would: but the deposed Prince

They suffered not to live 'mongst other men,

But drove him to a countrey farre from thence

Into wofull banishment,

Where he chang'd his royalty

For want and all misery;

Scarce a Kingly punishment.

One King there was that whilst his crown was on,

Knowing his subjects fickle disposition,

Beat his crown-worthy head to think upon

Some course of providence, to make provision

At the place of's banishment:

Full-stuff'd bags of money, and

What things else might purchase land,

He into that Kingdome sent.

It came to passe after some certain years,

His yoke seem'd heavy, and his people frown'd:

King sick they were; their purpose soon appeare:

A new King's chosen and the old's uncrow'nd.

And for exile, this foul beast,

Giddy, variable, rude,

The unconstant multitude,

Dealt with him as with the rest.

But that his wiser providence was such,

When's banish'd predecessours lived poore,

What he had sent before was full as much

As did exclude want or desire of more.

There he lacks not any thing;

He doth purchase towns and fields,

And what else the countrey yields:

In estate he's still a King.

So shall we fare hereafter in the next

As we provide in this life. Sure I see

A providence in all: Who is not vex'd,

And plung'd, and lean with too much industry?

Men of all sorts runne and ride,

Sweat and toil, and cark and care,

Get and keep, and pinch and spare;

And all's done for to provide.

For to provide? what? goods, and lands, and money,

Honours, preferments, pleasures, wealth and friends:

(As bees in summer-time provide their hony)

To sublunaries their provision tends,

And no farther; 't is for dust

That they labour and thick clay,

For these goods that will away,

And for treasures that will rust.

For to provide? for what? Their present life,

That's naturall; their bodies have their care:

Their spirituall state's neglected: there's no strife

For grace and goodnesse. Souls immortall are,

Living everlastingly

In eternall wo or blisse,

As here our provision is,

Yet are not a jote set by.

Men do provide amisse: Full well I know it,

I shall be banish'd from this sinne-smote place:

All here is fading, and I must forgo it.

What shall I lay up for hereafter? grace,

An unspotted conscience,

Faith in Christ, sobriety,

Holinesse, and honesty:

These will help when I go hence.

Strengthen those graces, Lord, which thou hast given,

And I shall quickly change both care and love;

My care for earth into a care for heaven,

Take off my heart from hence, and fix 't above,

And will lay up all provision

For that life which is to come

Whilst a stranger, that at home

I may find a blest condition.

PART II. Of Deaths impartiality:

from whose stroke neither Riches, Honours, Pleasures, Friends, Youth, nor any thing can protect us.

Sect. I. Riches cannot protect us from the stroke of Death.

OF richest men in holy writ I read,

Whose basket & whose store the Lord had blest,

And in the land exceedingly increas'd

Their wealthy substance; yet they all are dead.

Riches do not immortalize our nature:

The richest dyes as well's the poorest creature.

'Bove all, the wealth of Solomon did passe;

Ne'r was man master of a greater store:

He went beyond all Kings that went before.

Silver as stones, and purest gold as brasse,

Adorn'd Jerusalem: a glorious thing!

Yet death strikes into dust this wealthy King.

Meditation 1.

IF 'gainst Death's stroke my riches cannot arm me,

Nor comfort me a jote when I am dying:

I'll take a care these witches do not harm me

Whilst I do live. I know they will be trying

To do me any mischief; as before

And now they mischief all the whole world o're.

Some riches hurt with that old sinne of pride:

Rich men extremely swell; most commonly

This sinne and wealth both in one house abide:

Poore men are loo'kd on with a scornfull eye.

Strangely is his heart puft up with pride's bellow…

That hath a fatter fortune then his fellow….

His words are big, looks lofty, mind is high;

He with his purse will needs drive all before him:

He ever looks for the precedency;

And vext he is if men do not adore him:

He bears the sway: another man must b…,

If not so rich, not half so good as he.

Some men wealth doth infect with churlishnesse:

They answer roughly: they are crabbed mise…s.

(Course bread yields hardest crust) This is a dresse

Wherewith wealth decks our accidentall risers.

Since Nabals death a thousand ri…h men be

In every point as very hogs as he.

Some wealth makes prodigalls: there's no excesse

But they runne into. Back and belly strive

Which shall spend most: belly, with drunkennesse

And gormandizing: back, for to contrive

New stuffs and fashions. This excessive crue

Have wayes to spend that Dives never knew.

Observe these Caterpillers: One man puts

Into his throat a cellar full of drink:

Another makes a shambles of his guts.

The back is not behind; you would not think,

How for themselves, and for their curious dames,

One suit of clothes a good fat manour lames.

Some wealth makes idle: like so many drone…

They suck what others sweat for, and do hate

All good imployments. Many wealthy ones

Have neither callings in the Church nor State;

And during life do nothing day by day

But sit to eat and drink, and rise to play.

These mischiefs are in wealth and many more:

It throws men into many a foolish lust.

But if Gods bounty multiply my store,

I'll drain these …from 't: For when I must

Grone on my death-bed, these sinnes will displease me

And fright my soul, but riches cannot case me.

Lord, either keep me poore, or make me rich

In grace as well as goods: my wealth undresse

(If I have any) of those vices which

Are wont to clothe it; so shall I possesse

Riches without those sinn…s that riches bring,

That when death comes they sharpen not hi… sting.

Meditation 2.

THough God doth …me all my time along

With best of bl…ssings, make my … …,

Fill …ull my …, …my … …

To labour; and although his …give

As much to me as to a thousand more;

Though I am rich and all my neighbours poore;

Though Fortune f…nne me with a courteous wing;

Though gold be at my back; though I have sail'd

With prosp…rous …ales; though not an adverse thing

Did …be…de me; though I never fail'd

Of good succ…ss in any undertaking:

Yet am I still one of the common making;

A piec… of …ust an… clay: and I may go

….

Ou… … …; God at first made us so:

He … …rich mans life but like a span;

…:

And both … Death doth strike.

When they are fallen both alike they lie;

Both breathlesse, noisome, livelesse, senselesse, cold:

Both like the grasse are withered, dead and d…ie;

And both of them are ghastly to behold.

The ods is this, The poore man 'mongst the croud

Of buried mortalls hath the coursest shroud.

Why sinne the foolish sonnes of men for gain?

Why doth the Land-lord ra…k? the Us'…er bite?

Why doth the Judge with bribes his conscience stain?

Why doth the bauling Lawyer take delight

In spinning causes to a needlesse length,

Untill his clients purse hath lost its strength?

Why are Gods Ministers become men-pleasers?

And why are …atrones simonia…all?

Why are our Advoca…es such nippy teasers

Of honest causes? why the devil and all

Do Misers scrape? and why do Tradesmen rear

Their price, yet sell time …earer then their ware?

Sure these bad courses cannot choose but hurt us;

They mak… D…aths looks more ghastly, and his sting

Mor… piercing: but our wealth cannot support us

'Gainst small …fears that Death will bring.

Riches do promise much but do deceive us:

When we have need of succour then they leave us.

Anoint me, Lord, with eye-salve, to discern

What poore contents the world affords at best.

Instruct me, Lord, and I shall quickly learn

That without thee there's no condition blest.

Bad wayes of gaining into hell will drive me:

But all my wealth will not from Death reprive me.

Meditation 3.

SOme therefore sinne because they do abound

In store of wealth: this is the onelyonly ground

Of many sinnes. Gods laws they do tran…gresse;

They w…ong their equals, a…d the poore oppresse;

They …religion and civilitie

Both under foot; all kind of tyrannic

They exercise on all within their reach.

Nothing can keep them in; they make a breach

Through all those senses which at the beginning

God set to keep rebellious man from sinning:

They will be reveilers, whoremongers, swearers,

Drunkards, oppreslours, liers, and forbearers

Of no impiety: this is the reason,

Great men they are, and rich. 'T is petty treason,

Though in a modest way, for to reprove

Those sinfull courses which our betters love.

If we dare do it, though we have a calling

To do it boldly, we are tax'd for bawling

And sauc…e fellows; and another day

Sure we shall smart for 't. Lord, I'll never say,

I'll sinne because I'm rich; unlesse that I

Could say, I'm rich, and therefore will not die.

Meditation 4.

IF from Deaths stroke my riches cannot shield me,

Nor on my death-bed any comfort give;

Then I will take a care that they shall yield me

Some joy and comfort whilst I am alive,

And never shall a jote my sinnes increase,

Nor hinder me from going hence in peace.

I'll get them well: my calling shall be lawfull;

My brows or brains shall sweat for what I have:

And I will use my calling with an awfull

Regard of God and conscience; nor will crave

What I have not a right to. They do eat

Scarce their own bread whose faces never sweat

Unlesse they sweat with eating. Nor can I

Find any warrant for those wayes of gain

Which many men do get their livings by:

To keep a needlesse Al…house to maintein

An idle familie: to be a Pander,

A Fortune-teller, or an Apes commander:

A purblind Crowder, or a Rogue that canteth;

A Cuckold by consent for ready pay:

A sturdy Begger that not one limb wanteth:

Or one that borrows money on the way:

A Us'rer, who whether 't shine or rain,

If the Sunne stand not still, is sure of gain.

For these I find no warrant: nor for dealing

Deceitfully in selling or in buying.

To take more then what's sold is worth, is stealing;

Or to give lesse: the art of multiplying

Our lands, or gold, or silver, by subtracting

From other mens, or by unjust exacting

What is not ours. Better (in my opinion)

It were to seed on barley-bread and pottage

Made of salt, water, and an onion:

To wear a thred-bare coat, and in a cottage

Smoke-bound and rusty pennylesse to dwell,

Then to get wealth unlesse I get it well.

And when 't is justly gotten, every thought

That I'll bestow upon it shall be such

As it deserves: If heav'ns full hand hath brought

Plenty into my bosome, if as much

I have as I could wish, my care shall be

To think of 't all as of a vanity.

A vanity that, for ought I do know,

May take its flight and in an houre leave me.

As God had many wayes for to bestow

His bounty on me, he hath to bereave me

As many more: as moveables I'll deem it

From me, or with me; and I will esteem it

A strong temptation unto many a sinne,

That never will perform what it doth promise:

That wealths fair books when we are deepest in

The greater reck'ning God exacteth from us.

I'll not afford my wealth a better thought:

And I do think I think on 't as I ought.

And as I ought I'll use 't: Not to be fewel

For any lust, nor to maintein my riot;

Not to be prodigall, vainglorious, cruel;

Nor yet to make my potent purse disquiet

My poorer brother: but from thence I'll raise

My neighbours profit and my Makers praise.

Where there is need, I'll ready be to give,

Glad to distribute: naked ones I'll cover:

Hungry and thirsty souls I will relieve:

Widows distress'd in me shall find another

Husband: to orphanes I will be in stead

Of parents to provide their daily bread.

I'll never empty send the poore away…:

The Church shall ever find my purse unty'd:

The King shall have his due without delay:

The Common-wealth shall never be deny'd.

Thus shall my wealth be common unto many,

If ever God be pleas'd to send me any.

Riches so justly gotten, and imploy'd

So pi…usly, although they cannot make

A man immortall, that he should avoid

The grave and rottennesse; yet do not shake

The soul with terrours and such desperate fears,

As what's ill gotten doth, when Death appears.

Make me a faithfull Steward, holy Father,

Of what thou hast intrusted me withall.

Where I straw'd not grant I may never gather;

Nor sinne in spending: Then send Death to call

Me to account, Lord, when thou wilt, and I

Shall entertein the message joyfully.

Sect. 2. Honours cannot protect us from the stroke of Death.

OF honours all that can be said doth meet

In Kings and Princes; glory, majesty,

Command, and titles: yet their sacred feet

Trudge to the grave-ward. Power, Royaltie,

A Kingdome, Crown, and Sceptre cannot be

Protections against mortalitie.

Princes are Gods on earth; yet sure they must,

As well as meaner men, be sick and die:

Their Royall bodies shall be chang'd to dust:

No crown below is worn eternally.

Of all those Kings which in Gods book we reade

One died, and another reign'd in's stead.

If good and loyall subjects had their wish,

A gracious Prince should never see the grave;

Nor should his Royall corps be made a dish

For worms: but pious wishes will not save

A King from dust. As other mens, his breath

Is in his nostrils: Crowns must bow to Death.

Sure, were it not a kind of petty treason

To wish his Majesty so long without

A crown of glory, I should think it reason

To pray his lamp of life might ne'r go out.

Though not in's self, yet, Lord, grant he may be

Immortall in a blessed progenie.

Meditation 1.

MOngst us an humble great one is a wonder

Rarer by ods then is a winters thunder.

Great men and good each other seldome kisse:

Pride to preserment's married. O! there is

Not a thought within their brain

Of a grave, nor yet of seeing

Death; nor do they dream of being

Changed into dust again.

Consider, Sir, though you have been a taster

Of Princes favours, mounted all degrees

Of honour; have been called, Lord, and Master;

Though your approch h…th bow'd as many knees

As once mighty Hamans: yet

Is it not Eternity

That you hold your greatnesse by.

Death and you must one day meet.

As I remember, I have read a story,

That one in Embassy sent from the King

Of Persia to Rome, was shew'd the glory

Of that proud citie: every famous thing

That was by the Romanes thought

To expresse the great and mighty

Prowesse of their glorious city,

Thither was the Persian brought.

There he beheld such glorious structures, rais'd

To dare the skies, that outwent all examples;

Where art and cost workman and founder prais'd:

Baths, Theatres, Tombs, Monuments, and Temples,

Statues that would wonder-strike

Any mortall man that should

Once behold them; neither could

All the world shew the like.

After this view Romes mighty Emperour,

Longing for praises, in the Persian tongue

Demanded of this strange Embassadour

What he now thought of Rome. I should do wrong

To your sacred Majesty,

Thus th' Ambassadour reply'd,

And this glorious place beside,

If I should not magnifie

Both you and it. But one thing I dislike

In Rome it self: I see that Death doth reigne

As well here as in Persia, and doth strike

The greatest down, and when he please doth chain

People, Senatours and Kings

In cold fetters made of dust:

Even noble Romanes must

Feel what putrefaction brings.

Your Emperours th…mselves …had their turn…

In fun'rall piles. These …ombs can testify

The Caesars mo…tall. In these sacred urns

What lies but royall dust? Mortality

Happens here: and I know no man

B…t …ath p…wer to hold his breath

As …, and is free from Death

As much as the noblest Romane.

Look we a little on this land of ours:

Here's plenty, peace and every oth…r blessing.

Into her bosome God in plenteous …;

Rains kindnesses that are beyond expressing.

Sure we of this kingdome may

Justly our Creatour praise

For a share in happier dayes

Then Rome did at best enjoy.

Ours is a land of barly and of wh…at▪

Our stones are iron, and our …ills yield brasse.

A land wherein th' inhabitants do eat

Bread without …; here our blessings passe

All enumeration:

What God severally bestows

Upon others joyntly flows

From his bounty to this nation.

Yet here men die too: not the russet Clowns,

And Peasants onelyonly that do hold the …low,

And Shepherds that sit piping on the downs,

And milk-maids that do court'sie to a co…;

But those noble men that have

Titles, lordships, farms and mannours,

And a great book full of honours:

These go down into the grave.

See you not yonder super-stately palace?

Three generations since that house was builded.

A great man did it for his Lordships solace

In summer-time; but dying up he yielded

To his heir this stately pile:

This heir left it to his brother;

He dy'd too: and then another

Swagger'd there a little while.

And he that had it last is now remov'd

A story lower down into the dust.

Those swelling titles which were so belov'd;

That great estate in which the man did trust;

Troups of gallants that did give

Their attendance; all that treasure

Waiting on his Lordships pleasure

Could not keep the man alive.

Mark yonder marble-tomb: beneath it hath

This man a lodging. All those lines you see

On this side are a praising Epitaph,

And on the other side his titles be.

Of this fabrick if we might

One piece from another sunder,

And behold what lyeth under,

'T would be scarce so fair a sight.

Great ones, remember that there is a place

Which poore men call a death-bed, and a time

Of parting hence; you walk a nimble pace

To earth-ward every houre. Here though you climb

Up to Honour's highest round,

Drink a cup full to the brim

Of the world, in pleasures swim,

Death will lay you under ground.

Meditation 2.

VVHose heart so adamantine but would weep

Sad crimson drops to think upon some risers?

Lord, what a wicked shuffling they do keep

To lift themselves! Some-have been sacrificers

Of their fathers, brothers, friends,

Kinsfolk, children, and have stood

Wetshod every step in bloud,

To attein their lofty ends.

Of martyrs what a lamentable heap

Did Herod make for fear to loose his crown!

A mother would have sold a cradle cheap

To buy a coffin or a mourning gown.

This fell Tyrants rage appears

Running down each Parents face:

His wrath left in every place

Childlesse mothers dro…n'd in tears.

And Absolom, that miracle of beauty,

So eagerly did long to be a King,

That he could soon unlearn his filiall duty,

And by a strange rebellion fain would bring

The thrice-venerable head

Of his aged father down

To the grave without a crown,

And he triumph in his stead.

Abimelech, so strong was his ambition,

A bloudie bargain made with certain men

Of Belial, and to hinder competition

Did sacrifice at once threescore and ten

Of his brothers on a stone:

With so soul and deep a guilt

So much harmlesse bloud is spilt,

That himself may reigne alone.

Of that inhumane hell-bred tragedie

By Athaliah on the royall seed,

The motive was desire of majestie,

And that her own arms might the better speed.

Our third Richard goes for one

Of those butchers who think good

To cement their crowns with bloud,

And by murders reach a throne.

The great Tu…ks absolute prerogative,

Which in securitie his crown mainteins,

Is not to suffer one of them to live

That hath a drop of royall bloud in's veins:

When he's crown'd there's nothing lacking

That may to the safetie tend

Of this Monarch, but to send

The ghosts of his kinsmen packing.

If I at leisure were to write a storie

Of such black deeds as these at large, I could

Tell you of numbers who to purchase glorie,

Honours and high rooms in the world, have sold

(And this policie they call)

A good conscience, dearer farre

Then a thousand kingdomes are,

And to boot their God and all.

And yet when all is done, there dwells a God above,

A God that's greater then the greatest are,

Who can and will send Death for to remove

The greatest hence, and bring them to the barre:

Where must stand both small and great,

To have sentence e'r they go

Of eternall blisse or wo

At Gods dreadfull judgement-seat.

When you are seated highest let your carriage

Be full of pietie: you do an act

Worthy your greatnesse if you make a marriage

'Twixt it and goodnesse, if you do contract

Honours unto holynesse.

Ever give the Lord his due

Honour who hath honoured you:

Then will Death affright the lesse.

Affright the lesse? 't will not affright at all.

The errand's welcome when a charge is giv'n

To that grim pursuivant that he must call

Your honours hence unto a court in heav'n.

To be great is not the thing

That can dying-comforts yield:

Goodnesse onelyonly is the field

Whence all soul-refreshings spring.

Meditation 3.

IF ever it should please God and the King

(Which I do not desire) to give me honours;

Yet never should my best preferments bring

Vices to boot: they should not change my manners.

Many a man hath been good

Unpreferr'd, and not a slave

To his lusts; yet honours have

Put him in another mood.

Of Saul we heare no evil whilst he stood

Endow'd with nothing but a private fortune:

And afterward we heare as little good

Of Saul a King: His honours did importune

His bad nature to produce

Such fruits as were too unfit

For a King, and to commit

Sinnes that were beyond excuse.

As long as man is limited within

The bounds of humble, base and mean estate,

He seems to make some conscience of a sinne,

And one that would be good at any rate:

But no wickednesse he spares

When (by chance) the man is mounted

And 'mongst great ones is accounted;

Then the man himself declares.

Then his depraved nature with loose rains

Runnes uncontrolledly into the mire

Of all impietie; no sinne remains

Unacted by him: doth he but desire

To be wicked, vain or idle,

Any lust to satisfie,

That lust he will gratifie:

His affections wear no bridle.

I'll never be deboist although my seat

Of glory in the world be ne'r so high:

I will not therefore sinne because I'm great;

For if I greater were, yet I must die,

And must at Gods bench appear,

Where my sentence shall be given

To receive a hell or heaven,

As my doings have been here.

Sect. 3. Pleasures cannot protect us from the stroke of Death.

Under the sunne there was not any joy

Which Solomon that wise and famous King

Had not a tast of: whatsoever may

Gladnesse, content, delight and solace bring,

That he from the creature gathers;

Not one pleasure doth he keep

His heart from: yet he's asleep

In the dust among his fathers.

His senses had those objects which delight,

Content, and please and ravish most his touch;

His tast, his hearing, smelling, and his sight,

His mind and humour too, all had as much

Of delicious satisfaction

As from all beneath the skie

Ever could be fetched by

Any possible extraction.

Three hundred concubines he had to please

His touch: by turns each of them was his guest

At night. Seven hundred wives beside all these;

The worst of them a Princesse at the least.

Such a female armie meets,

To make his delight run o'r.

Sure they are enough to store

Twice five hundred pair of sheets.

To please his tast this great Kings daily chear

Exceeded for varietie and plentie:

He had his Ro…-buck and his Fallow-deer,

His fatted fowl, and everie other daintie.

He had pala…e-pleasing wine:

Gormandizers, whose best wishes

Terminate in toothsome dishes,

No where else would sup or dine.

And everie day both men and women-singers

Imprisoned his care with charming voices:

The Viol touch'd with artificiall fingers,

An Organs breathing most melodious noises:

Sackbut, Psalterie, Recorder,

The sh…ill Cornet, and the sharp

Trump…t, Dulcimet and Harp;

These all sounded in their order.

And in his gardens he had lovely ranks

Of flowers for odour all sweets else excelling,

Whose beauteous lustre stellifi'd the banks;

All these were to delight his sense of smelling,

And perfumes of sweetest savour,

Which all other nations bring

As a present from their King

Who did woo his Princely favour.

For objects which were wont to please the eye,

He wanted non…. Did he desire a sight

Of what might most affect? variety

Of lovely'st objects spangled with delight

Everiewhere themselves present:

Scarce did anywhere appear

Other objects then did wear

Outsides clothed with content.

Behold his thousand wives! If he would know

The height of beautie, it is seen in those.

A battel in a field of sanguine snow

Betwixt the spotlesse lilie and the rose:

Part they would on no condition,

Nor would either of them yield;

Yet at length are reconcil'd,

And there made a composition.

His gorgeous clothes, his silver and his gold,

His jewels, his incomparable treasure

Were all of them delightsome to behold,

And gave the eye a glorious glut of pleasure.

His friends, his magnificent

Buildings, fish-ponds, gardens, bowers

Interlac'd with gallant flowers

Gave both eye and mind content.

Yet he's dead. Delights cannot protect us

From Deaths assaults; pleasures eternize not

Our nature: yea, when sicknesse shall deject us

They will not ease nor comfort us a jo…e.

What doth most exactly please us

Here appears not where a grave is;

And what most of all doth ravish

On a death-bed will not ease us.

Meditation 1.

MEthinks the trade of brainlesse Epicures

Is not so good as it doth seem to be.

The sweetest cup of luxury procures

No man below an immortalitie.

Yea, when sicknesses do lay

Him upon his bed, and strain

Everie part with deadly pain,

All his pleasures flie away.

Let's put the ease there was a belly-god,

Whose studie 't was to give his throat content;

To sacrifice to's panch both rost and sod

Was his religion. Every element

Its imployment had: The Waters,

Fruitfull Earth and nimble Air,

Ransack'd with a costly …are,

For fish, flesh and sowl, were caters:

The other cook'd it. This luxurious race

Did breath his stomach twice a day at least;

And each dish flo…ed in provoking sawce,

Which still afresh his appetite increas'd.

From Dives that's now in hell,

For a table full of rare,

Toothsome and delicious fare,

This man bears away the bell.

Well; this fat hog of Epicurus stie

Falls sick of surfe…ing, or else the gout

Or dropsie gripes him most tormentingly,

That you would think his soul were going out.

Pains do hinder him from sleeping,

He lies restlesse, and is so

Full of tossings to and fro

That his house is fill'd with weeping.

His servants, seeing him so out of quiet,

Sadly bespoke him thus, Sir, here's a Phesant,

A dish of Partridge, Larks, or Quails, (a diet

Your Worship loves) a cup of rich and pleasant

Wine that comforts where it goes,

Muscadine, Canarie, Sherrie,

That hath often made you merrie:

This may ease you of your throes.

The man repli'd, If I had wine by ods

Better then nectar, which the poets feigne

Was drunk in goblets by the heathen Gods,

It would not ease me of my smallest pain.

Should God rain me from the skies

Manna, glorious Angels food,

'T would not do me any good:

'Gainst it would my stomachrise

There was another that plac'd no delight

In any thing but wealth; his chiefest good

Was purest gold: whether 't were wrong or right

He would be gaining: for he never stood

Upon conscience at all.

And to cry down avarice,

As he thought, was a device

Merely puritanicall.

To lie, to cheat, to swear, and, which is worse,

To forswear, to dissemble in his dealing,

Went ever down with him as things of course:

Nor would he slack a jote at down-right stealing.

Blind he was not; yet he saw

Not that statute-usury

Was at all forbidden by

Any part of morall law.

'T was fish whatever came within his net:

Sweet smell'd the dunghill that affoorded gain.

On such a thriving pinne his heart was set,

No thoughts but golden lodged in his brain.

Scraping thus early and late,

And increasing by these bad

Wayes and means, at length he had

Heaped up a vast estate.

They say a Turkish Musulman, that dies

A faithfull servant unto Mahomet,

Shall presently enjoy a paradise

Of brave delights indeed: The place is set

All about with glorious matters;

There are rivers, pleasant benches

Straw'd with flowres, & gallant wenches

That have eyes as broad as platters,

And many other joyes as good as these.

But all are bables to that strong content

Wherewith the man we told you of doth please

Himself in his estate: More merriment

In the images of Kings

Doth he find then six or seven

Martyr'd Turks do in their heaven.

Hearken how the miser sings;

I'll eat, drink, and play,

And I'll freely enjoy

My pleasures before I am old;

I'll be sorie no more,

For my soul hath in store

Abundance of silver and gold.

In this day and night

Will I place my delight;

It shall fatten my heart with laughter.

No man shall excell me;

For who is 't can tell me

What pleasures there will be hereafter?

His irreligious song was hardly ended,

When at his gate was heard one softly knocking:

It was that Tyrant Death, who came attended

With troups of griping throes; all these came flocking

Round about this golden fool.

As the issue did assure us,

God had sent these ghastly Furies

For to take away his soul.

Alas, Sir, said his servants what may be

The cause you send us out such wofull grones?

How fell you into such an agonie?

What ails your throat, your head, your heart, your bones

Or your stomach, or your brains,

That you howl so? here before you

Is that which must needs restore you,

And ease your extremest pains.

Here's gold and silver and as stately stuff

As England, Scotland, France, or Ireland yields:

Of jewels and of plate you have enough:

Of any man you have the fruitfull'st fields.

Fattest oxen throng your stall;

Tenants tumble in your rent:

Those to whom you mony lent

Bring both use and principall.

This cannot chuse but comfort. But the man,

That lay upon his easelesse death-bed sprawling,

Made this replie, If any of you can

By marks infallible make sure my calling

To my soul, and my election;

If from any text divine

You could prove that Christ is mine,

This would be a good resection.

Or if you could assure my parting ghost

Of seeing God to all Eternitie,

Of being one amongst that heavenly host

Whose blisse it is to praise him endlessely;

This were comfort that accordeth

With his case that is distrest

As now I am, but the rest

On a death-bed none affoordeth.

There was another man whose occupation

Was to passe time away: he made a trade

Of that which men do call a recreation:

He was indeed a very merry blade.

Taverns, bowling-alleys, playes,

Dauncing, fishing, fowling, racing,

Hawking, hunting, coursing, tracing,

Took up all his healthfull dayes.

But on a time a sudden sicknesse came,

And seised him in each extremer part,

(This grudging did begin to spoil his game)

But at the length it fast'ned on his heart;

There it plung'd him wofully,

And forthwith the man is led

Home and laid upon his bed:

Think him now at point to die.

A little after came into the room

A gallant troup of necessarie stuff,

His coachman, falconer, huntsman, page, and groom,

His mistresse with her hands both in a muff,

Sorle all to see him so.

But see how these fools invent

To give a sick man content,

And to ease him ere they go.

One breaks a jest, another tells a tale;

One strikes the lute, another sings a dittie;

(But neither of them pray to God at all)

Another tells what news is in the citie:

Everie man is in his vein,

And all jointly do contrive

Pleasant passages to drive

Out of doore their masters pain.

They ask'd him if he pleas'd to take the air,

Or call for's coach and ride to see a play.

And whether he would hunt the buck or hare,

Or to a tavern go to drive away

Or to drown times tediousnesse,

Or else to a tennis-court

Whither gallants do resort,

Or else play a game at chesse.

The man reply'd, Ye know I must be gone

The way of all, I cannot tell how soon;

And I have other things to think upon:

Already it is with me afternoon;

Erelong my declining sunne

Needs must set. Oh! my life hangs

On a thred: these mortall pangs

Crack it. Out my glasse is runne.

Time was I doted on these idle toyes:

Now can they not a dram of comfort yield.

Too late I see they are not death-bed joyes,

No refuge from soul-vexing storms, no shield

When a mortall blow is given.

Prate no more: let not a man

Open's mouth unlesse he can

Tell me how to get to heaven.

There was another that for nothing car'd

(It was a woman) but for vain excesse

In bravery of clothes; no cost was spar'd,

Nor art, nor care, that served to expresse

To the full a female pride:

But at length it came to passe

That this spruce and gallant lasse

Fell extremely sick and di'd.

But I must tell you, that, whilst like a lion

Pains tore her bones in pieces, …re she sent

Her last breath out, (imagine her of Sion

A matchlesse daughter) to her chamber went,

Weeping ripe, her good handmaiden,

Purposing as much as may be

To chear up her dying Ladie:

For with comforts was she laden.

Thus she began, and spake it with a grace,

Be comforted, good Madame, never let

A little sicknesse spoil so good a face;

Your Ladyship cannot so soon forget

Your contents. If ever any

Gentlewoman liv'd that might

Find materialls of delight,

You, good Madame, have as many.

Here for your feeet are tinkling ornaments;

Here are your bonnets, and your net-work-cauls,

Fine linen too that every eye contents,

Your head-bands, tablets, eare-rings, chains, and falls,

Your nose-jewels, and your rings,

Your hoods, crisping-pinnes, & wimples,

Glasses that bewray your pimples,

Vails, and other pretty things:

Here are your dainty mantles, and your sutes

Of changeable apparel, and your tires

Round like the moon, your bracelets, (finger-fruits)

Of busie houres) mufflers, and golden wires;

And so many more that no man

Can repeat not yet remember

From October to September:

This would comfort any woman.

Suppose her, if you will, an English Lady;

And think you heare her waiting gentlewoman

Bespeak her thus, Madame, here is a gawdy

And glorious shew, (these fashions are not common.)

Here's your beaver and your feather,

Here are silver-ribband knots,

Trunks full of rich riding-coats,

Galiant shelters 'gainst the weather.

Here are your holland and your cambrick-smocks,

Your gowns of velvet, satten, taffatie,

Irons to curvifie your flaxen locks,

And spangled roses that outshine the skie:

For your head here's precious geere,

Bonelace-cros-cloths, squares & shadows,

Dressings, which your Worship made us

Work upon above a yeare.

Rich chains of pearl to tie your hair together,

And others to adorn your snowi… breast;

Silk stockings, starre-like shoes of Spanish leather:

And that which farre excelleth all the rest

And begets most admiration,

Of your clothes is not their matter,

Though the world affords not better,

But it is their Frenchest fashion.

Madame, believe 't, the fairest of the Graces

Subscribes to you. Whenever you appear

Adorned with your gold and silver-laces,

Your presence makes the greedi'st eye good chear.

This consideration

In time past was wont to please you:

Now then, Madame, let it ease you

And afford you consolation.

The dy…ng woman, when this speech was done,

After a grone or two made this replie,

Doth such a curtain-lecture suit with one

That everie houre doth look when she should die?

'T is not congruous. Wer'st thou able

My poore naked soul to dresse

With a Saviours righteousnesse,

This indeed were comfortable:

But all the rest is not. Oh! how I grieve

To think upon my former vanitie:

Alas, I feel these toyes cannot relieve,

Nor ease, nor comfort. Thus let luxurie

Pitch on what it will, its joyes

Are but painted, nor can bring us

Ease when pangs of Death do wring us,

Much lesse can they make our dayes

Eternall here. Thy servant, Lord, beseecheth

The presence of thy spirit that discovers

How vain that carnall joy is which bewitcheth

With pleasant poison all her sottish lovers.

Let not earth-delights forestall me:

Help thy servant to provide

Pleasures that will then abide

When thou sendest Death to call me.

Meditation 2.

FArewell those pleasures which the creatures bree…:

These carnall comforts shall be none of mine;

They slink away in time of greatest need:

I'll get me comforts that are more divine,

Such as God provideth for us

By his Spirit and in his word:

They are such as will afford

Joy unspeakable and glorious.

Unsanctified palates cannot find

A relish in Gods service: 't is their follie

That nothing in it suiteth with their mind,

That they account religion melancholie.

And the cause of their misprision

Is because they cannot see

Things divine; for yet they be

In their naturall condition.

But sanctified souls have better eyes.

Each Person in the sacred Trinitie

Sends comfort down, and such as farre outvies

The best delight that is below the skie.

Father, Sonne, and holy Ghost,

Be it spoke with reverence,

Seem to strive which shall dispense

Blessings that do comfort most.

The Father, as his title often writes

Himself a God of peace and consolation,

He sends me comforts by those sacred lights

Which bring me errands from his habitation:

And so firm and full and free

Is each promise in his book,

That on whichsoe'r I look

Blessed comforts I do see:

So firm, that first the hugest hills and mountains

Shall dance out of their places, st…rres shall fall,

Streams shall run backward to their mother-fountains,

The earth shall tumble, ere he will recall

One of's promises: For why,

(And this gives strong consolation

In the middest of temptation)

He's a God, and cannot lie.

So full, that there's not any thing left out

That I could wish. What I would have him be

God is. Would I be compassed about

With merciemercy? find relief in miserie?

Would I by his Spirit be led?

And have all my sinnes for given?

And hereafter go to heaven?

All this God hath promised.

So free, that to deserve that promis'd glory

I nothing have but what his merciemercy gave me:

'T is gratis rather then compensatorie

Whatever God doth to convert or save me.

And if any good I do,

'T is done by supplies Divine;

So Gods work and none of mine:

Grace begins and ends it too.

What if by nature I was made a sheep,

And by corruption I am gone astray,

Whether I think, or speak, or do, or sleep,

Or wake, do ever wander from the way

I was set in, and am …oss'd

So by lust that my soul wanders

Into many by-meanders,

Like a sillie sheep that's lost?

Yet God's my shepherd: When his mercy spi'd me

Wandring it brought me home; and ever since

It doth watch over, feed, defend, and guide me,

And ever will do so till I go hence:

And hereafter in the even,

When my latest sand is runne,

And my pasture here is done,

It will fold my soul in heaven.

The Sonne doth comfort. 'T was his errand down

To preach glad tidings to the meek, and turn

Their wo to case; to earn a glorious crown

For sinners, and to comfort those that mourn;

Broken-hearted ones to bind,

And to set at libertie

Pris'ners in captivitie,

And give eye-sight to the blind.

There's comfort in his wounds: His sacred stripe:

Do heal our leprous souls of all their sores:

'T is nothing but his pretious bloud that wipes

Our guilt away and cancelleth our scores.

Six times did he shed his bloud,

(And sure our estate did need it

That so many times he did it)

And each drop was for our good.

Those circumcision-drops of's infancie,

Those drops that's anguish in the garden vented,

Those drops when he was scourged Jewishly,

Those drops when's head with sharpest thorns was tented,

Those drops when his limbs were nailed

To the crosse, those when the fierce

Souldiers spear his side did pierce;

Each drop for our good prevailed.

There's comfort in his crosse: That vile old man

That hangs about us to our dying day

Is crucified with him that it can

Not exercise half of its wonted sway:

Lessened is its kingly power.

Surely sinne, it struggles so,

Hath receiv'd a mortall blow,

And is dying everie houre.

There's comfort in his death: For us he dy'd,

For us he felt his Fathers heavie wrath,

And his impartiall justice satisfi'd,

And us his alsufficient passion hath

Pluck'd from Satan vi & armi…,

And his meritorious pain

Freed us from sinnes guilt and stain,

And whatever else might harm us.

There's comfort in his resurrection too.

He rose again that we might be accounted

Righteous and just, (This no man else could do)

And that our sinnes, whose number farre surmounted

All the starres that shine in heaven,

All our hairs, and all the sand

That lies scattered on the strand,

For his sake might be forgiven.

And God the holy Ghost doth comfort bring:

By speciall office it is his imployment

To settle in the soul a lively spring,

From whence doth issue such a sweet enjoyment

Of divine, heart-pleasing blisse,

As the world will not believe,

Nor can any heart conceive

But the heart wherein it is.

It is this blessed Spirit that doth seal

Assurance to my conscience of a share

In what God, in and through his Sonne, doth deal

To needy sinners that converted are.

It assures me of Gods love

In the free and full remission

Of my sinnes, and exhibition

Of those joyes that are above.

Let now the world, that's wont to tell a storie

Of strange delights, shew me but such a pleasure,

As to be sure of God, and Christ, and glory,

And then I'll hug it as my choicest treasure.

Thus each Person of the three

Is imploy'd (if I do live

Holy as I ought) to give

Joy and comfort unto me.

Grant a man once to be in Christ, and he

On sublunarie pleasures soon will trample;

And yet for pleasures, who shews best, will vie

With all the world: give him but one example,

What gets pleasure, and what feeds it;

Whatsoe'r 'mongst earthly things

To the mind most pleasure brings;

He can shew what farre exceeds it.

Can learning please? he is a man of parts.

Me thinks sure at his very fingers end

He hath exactly all the liberall arts;

At least he hath such arts as will commend

Any man a great deal more,

And will sooner bring to heaven,

Then will any of those seven

On which learned men do po…e.

His Logick is so scientificall,

His Syllogismes are in so blest a mood,

A thousand arguments his heart lets fall

That rightly from good premises conclude

Him a child of God on high,

And a member of his Sonne,

And an heir, when's race is runne,

Of a blest Eternitie.

His Rhetorick excells. He can perswade

More then those well-penn'd sweet orations which

Demosthenes or Tullie ever made.

Doth he that prayer-hearing God beseech?

Presently his eare he gains.

For fine words it is no matter:

Let him like a swallow chatter

Or a crane, yet he obtains.

And for Arithmetick; his numeration

Is of his dayes: this makes the man applie

His heart to wisdome, that in any station

He may perform his dutie prudently.

And those sinnes, to make them hatefull,

Which his conscience most do cumber

Everie day the man doth number;

And Gods blessings, to be gratefull.

And for Addition; 't is his diligence

Vertue to adde to faith; to vertue, knowledge;

Love, godlinesse, peace, kindnesse, patience,

One to another: that his soul's a Colledge

Filled with divinest graces:

And not one grace idle lies,

But all do their exercise

In their severall turns and places.

When he subtracteth, 't is not from the poore,

As most men do, not from the King nor Church;

But from sinnes monstrous bodie. More and more

He weakens the old man that lies at lurch

In each of his faculties,

And his master-sinne, the strongest

Lust that hath been harboured longest

In his soul he mortifies.

He multiplies not, as in many places

Men do, his riches; but he multiplies

And doth augment his saving gifts and graces,

If not in habit yet in exercise.

He divides his goods, he feedeth

Hungrie bellies, and relieveth

Such as are distress'd, and giveth

Unto everie one that needeth.

When he reduceth, 't is his conversation

In ev'rie point from what it was by nature:

He moulds his life into another fashion,

And shews himself to be a new-made creature.

And for such a mans Progression;

He's not fixed in his place

Like a statue, but in grace

Grows to credit his profession.

He ever worketh by the Rule of Three

That do above in heaven bear record.

The Golden Rule, whereby his actions be

Squar'd and directed, is their written word.

Though sometimes he work by Fractions,

Gives God broken services,

'Cause he's flesh in part; yet is

He sincere in all …actions.

And for a pious mans Astronomie;

What if he cannot tell the sev'rall motions

Those orbs have which do roll about the skie?

Starres names, site, bignesse, and such other notions?

What if he know not how soon

The sunne will eclipsed be?

Nor hath wit enough to see

The new world that's in the moon?

Yet he doth know the milkie way that leads

Unto the palace of the highest King:

Whose presence the whole host of heaven dreads,

Who made the starres, the spheres, and everie thing;

Steers the course that each orb runnes,

Binds starres influence, looseth the bands

Of Orion, and his hands

Guide Arcturus with his sonnes.

For Geometrie; what if he cannot tell

How many miles the vast earth is about?

Yet doth his pious art by farre excell

In finding many greater matters out:

Matters that exceed the strength

Of best wits, the full extension

Of Christ's love in each dimension,

Height, and depth, & breadth, & length.

For Grammar; he can wickednesse decline.

His supernaturall Philosophie

Is wisdome to salvation. Most divine

His musick is: That God that dwells on high

Is pleas'd with no other tone.

There is nothing he can heare

Makes such musick in his eare

As a sanctified grone.

For Physick; his most admirable knowledge

Hath found out a Catholicon. (This ranks

His skill deservedly above the Colledge,

Above French or Italian mountebanks.)

There's no sicknesse, he is sure,

Be it ne'r so strong or foul,

That affecteth any soul,

But the bloud of Christ can cure.

The greatest Clerk is but a learned fool,

If's learning be not mixt with godlinesse.

The greatest Scholar's he that goes to school

To learn of Christ the wayes of holinesse.

Thus if learning be a treasure

That doth please, or skill in arts,

Or to be a man of parts;

He that's holy finds this pleasure.

Doth toothsome and delicious chear delight?

The godly have it once a week at least.

Our bounty-handed Saviour doth invite

His servants to a rich and sumptuous feast,

Where his own self is our server;

Such a feast of fattest things

As if all the guests were Kings:

Where faith may be her own carver.

Do riches please? A godly mans estate

Surpasseth that of Croesus: he hath more

Then out of Christ is had at any rate.

God hath endow'd him with a blessed store

Better then a heap of gold,

Which nor thief, nor moth, nor rust,

Can steal, eat, or turn to dust:

His are bags that ne'r wax old.

Gods rich and precious promises are his,

Which by a precious faith he makes his own:

Gods richest mercy: there's no wealth like this:

Christs precious bloud, whereof a drop alone

Was of higher valuation

Then all men …nd Angels be,

Or what e'r the …did see

Ever since the first creation.

Doth rich apparel please? Christs righteousnesse

Clothes all his members to conceal their shame.

Ne'r was Kings daughter in so pure a dresse,

Unlesse she were adorned with the same.

'T is a robe that God doth please:

Angels that on God do wait,

And ne'r lost their first estate,

Are not cloth'd like one of these.

For all delights, the cheating world hath none

So good by half 'mongst all her painted store

As those the soul finds in religion:

With purest joy the pious heart runnes o'r.

Let the world diversifie

Her delights a thousand wayes,

Yet they come short of those joyes

That are found in pietie.

When I must die, my joy that's naturall

Forsaketh me; that which is secular

Takes leave assoon as ever Death doth call;

Joyes that were criminall converted are

Into most tormenting fears:

OnelyOnly that which is divine

On a Death-bed will be mine.

And what if when Death appears

It cannot shield me from that fatall blow?

(I would not it should do me so much wrong:

For if I were immortall here below

I were not happie) yet 't will go along

With me when I do depart.

Carnall joyes, Lord, from me banish.

Let divine delights replenish

Ev'rie corner of my heart.

Sect. 4. Friends cannot protect us from the stroke of Death.

IF I were great, rich, prosperous, secure,

Successefull in the world, I should be sure

That more time-servers would my friendship woo,

Then I could reckon in a yeare or two.

As greedie Eagles to a carcase hasten,

And with sharp tallons on their prey do fasten;

So would they flock about me. Or if I

Could learn the art of popularity,

I might be rich in friends, yet all my store

Would not know how to keep Death out of doore.

Meditation 1.

OF Proteus 't is fained that he could

Transform himself to any kind of shape:

Into a Dove, or Lamb, and when he would,

Into a Tiger, Lion, Bear, or Ape,

Or a Mountain, Rock, or Spring,

Or Earth, Water, Fire, Air,

Into any forms that are

Stampt in any kind of thing.

And Aristippus could exactly flatter:

He had the art of winning gainfull friends,

And, that his fortune might be made the fatter,

Had all behaviours at his fingers ends.

He could grene when's friend was sickly,

And could weep when he was sad:

Any humour, good or bad,

Did become him very quickly.

Did I believe that metempsychosis

Pythagoras did dream of, I should swear

That Proteus ghost to this day neither is

In hell nor yet in heaven, but doth wear

Now a body, and the base

Ghost of Aristippus dwells

In a thousand bodies: else

How could thousands have the face

To personate so many humours? act

So many parts at once, and balk no sinne?

Yea, perpetrate with ease the bas…st fact

That hell e'r punished, to wind them in-

to great friendsh…ps, though they misse

Heavens favour, all the while

Dreaming that a great mans smile

Is on earth the onelyonly blisse?

And yet when that last enemie shall come

And grind their aching bones with griping throes,

To bring their bodies to their longest home,

There's not a man 'mongst all their friends that know:

How to take away their pain.

In comes ghastly Death among

The midst of that friendly throng,

And turns them to dust again.

Meditation 2.

THere's none among the sacred troup of Saints

Yet militant below but doth desire

Gods favour most, and most of all lamen…s

When it is lost, and alway sets a higher

Estimate upon the rayes

That are darted from above

By the God of peace and love,

Then on all he here enjoyes.

Ne'r doth the chased hart in hottest weather,

When horse and hound pursue him o'r the plains,

And hunt him sweating twentie miles together,

That all his bloud is boil'd within his veins,

When he's to the hardest driven,

Pant so much for water-brooks,

As a soul deserted looks

For a kind aspect from heav'n.

Once did Elias zealous prayers climb

To heav'n, and made the windows there so fast

(This came to passe in wicked Ahabs time)

That one and twentie months twice told were past

E'r there fell a showre of rain

Or a drop of morning dew:

In the meadows nothing grew,

Nor was any kind of grain

Fed by the parched mold. How do ye think

That thirstie, drie, and barren land did yawn

And gape to heav'n-ward for a draught of drink?

Just so, whene'r Gods favour is withdrawn

From a soul, it doth distresse her.

Ne'r earth thirsted more for rain,

Then doth she for God again

To relieve her and refresh her.

Have you not seen a mothers wofull tears

Embalm the carcase of her onelyonly sonne?

How to all comfort she stops both her eares,

Wrings both her hands, and makes a bitter moan?

Fain in sorrow would she swim,

Or be drown'd, it is so deep:

She hath heart enough to weep

Heaven full up to the brim.

But this is nothing to that matchlesse anguish

That breaks in pieces ev'rie pious heart,

And makes the soul with darkest sadnesse languish,

If from 't a sense of Gods good will depart.

O how strangely David's troubled

When God hid away his face!

(Though but for a little space)

See how his complaints are doubled.

How long? for ever, Lord, wilt thou forget me?

How long wilt thou thy gratious visage hide?

How long be angrie? wilt thou never let me

Enjoy thy face again? shall I abide

Thus for evermore berest

Of all comfort, joy, and peace?

Shall my soul ne'r dwell at ease?

Hast thou, Lord, no mercy left?

O once again be pleas'd to turn, and give

My soul a relish of thy wonted grace:

There's nothing can my sadded heart relieve,

If thou dost hide thy comfortable face.

Thou in tears thy servant drown'st,

Thou dost fill my che…ks with furrows

And my soul with ghastly sorrows,

Whensoever, Lord, thou frown'st.

The world doth value at a precious rate

Things here below. Some highly prize their sport;

Some, jewels; some, a plentifull estate;

And some, preferments in a Princes court:

But for life, we so esteem it

Above whatsoe'r is best,

That with losse of all the rest

We are ready to redeem it.

But none of these Gods children do regard

So much as Gods love by a thousand parts:

Feel they but this, to …'t is spar'd

The best and highest room in all their hearts.

They …no wordly pelf

In comparison of this

Kindnesse; yea, to them it is

Better fa…re then life it self.

Have they no reason for this eager thirst

After Gods love and friendship? sure they see

Gods favour and his kindnesse is the first

And chiefest good: all other friendships be

Most deceitfull, trustlesse, rain.

When the pangs of Death do scise us

Mortall favours cannot ease us:

God can rid us of our pain.

But grant he do not, yet these pains shall send

Our souls to him that loves us, to enjoy

A painlesse life that ne'r shall see an end.

He whom God loves can on a death-bed say,

I know my Redeeme… liveth;

For me there's laid up a crown:

When this clay-built house is down

God a better mansion giveth.

I'll never woo the smile of man, whose breath

Is in his nostrils, by sinister wayes;

'T will not advantage at the houre of Death:

All my supportment on these carnall stayes

At the length will but deceive me.

'T is to have a friend above,

'T is Gods favour and his love,

Or else nothing, must relieve me.

Lord, make thy graces in my soul appear;

My heart from ev'rie lothsome blemish cleanse,

That I may clearly see thine image there;

For that's an undeceived evidence

Of thy favour: which when I

Once am certain to obtein,

I'll not faint for any pain,

Nor will care how soon I die.

Sect. 5. Youth cannot protect us from the stroke of Death.

A Young man may die, but an old man must;

This may die quickly, that cannot live long:

Often are graves fill'd full with youthfull dust.

Though youth be jocund, lustie, merrie, strong,

Yet is it subject unto Death-bed-pains;

'T is mortall bloud that runnes along their veins.

In all appearance old mens halting feet are

Mov'd to the grave-ward with the greatest speed,

(Like that disciples which did outrunne Peter)

But sometimes younger men step in indeed:

And peradventure twentie years or more

Sooner then those that looked in before.

Graves gape for ev'rie sort: The butcher's seen

Often to kill the youngest of the flock.

Some long to pluck those apples that are green:

Death crops the branches and forbears the stock.

Children are wrapp'd up in their winding-sheets,

And aged parents mourn about the streets.

Jobs children di'd before himself: for after

The death of ten he liv'd to get ten other.

We sigh out, Ah my sonne! or, Ah my daughter!

As oft as, Ah my father, or my mother!

The first that ever di'd resign'd his breath

Nine hundred yeares before his fathers death.

Yea, many times, Deaths gripings are so cruel,

Before the groning mothers child-birth-pain

Is past, the infant's buri'd, like a jewel

But shewn and presently shut up again,

Perhaps within a minute after birth

Is forthwith sent to cradle in the earth.

Perhaps he is not born at all, yet dies,

And dies a verie thriftie Death: to save

Fun'rall expenses he in's mother lies

Entombed, both lodg'd in a single grave:

And with him lies in one poore narrow room

His swadling-clouts, nurse, mother, cradle, tomb.

Meditation 1.

SOme sinnes there be (as holy writ doth teach)

That interrupt the current of our dayes:

He that's found gultie of them cannot reach

That length of life which he that's free enjoyes.

Sinne (you know) and Death are twins,

Or Death is Sinnes progeny.

Many of us if we die

In our youth may thank our sinnes.

One sinne is disobedience to that pair

Which did beget us. If I shall despise

My parents lawfull precepts, if my care

Be not to do what's pleasing in their eyes,

If I willingly neglect

Any thing which I do know

Is a duty that I ow,

I may Death betimes expect.

Another sinne is unprepar'd receiving

That blessed Supper which doth feed and heal,

And in and to a soul that is believing

A full release of sinnes doth freely seal:

Where that body and that bloud

Is presented on the table,

Which are infinitely able

To do hungri'st sinners good.

If I come hither an unworthie guest;

Or if before my heart I do not prove;

Or if I come as to a common feast;

Or come without Thanks, Knowledge, Faith, and Love:

If I carrie any crime

Thither with me unlamented,

Or go …re I have repented,

Deat… may …me hence betime.

Another is Bloud-thirstinesse: when we

To do a mischief are so strongly bent

That we sleep not unlesse our projects be

Contrived to insnar… the innocent:

When w… are so like the Devil,

Everie way satanicall,

That tongue, brains, heart, hands, and all

Are imploy'd in what is evil.

These sinnes and others like them do procure

Untimely Deaths. Lord, purifie my heart

From everie sinne; but chiefly, Lord, secure

My soul from these, that I may not depart

Hence too soon. Lord, my desire

Is not to live long; but I

OnelyOnly pray that I may die

In thy favour not thine ire.

Meditation 2.

THere is a sinne that seldome doth escape

A rich mans heir, (yet 't is a foul transgression)

For parents Death with open mouth to gape,

That their estates may come to his possession.

He gapes that his friends may sleep:

Parentalia are rites

Verie welcome: he delights

At a fathers grave to weep.

Poore hare-brain'd fool! Perhaps thou may'st go first:

This night thy younger soul may be requir'd;

Thy Death may frustrate that ungodly thirst:

Whose then is that estate thou hast desir'd?

If these gallants were not blind,

Sure they could not choose but see

That a thousand children be

Dead, their parents left behind.

Of any kind of sinne (to speak the truth)

That Satan can beget upon the soul,

Most commonly man's guilti'st in his youth:

Our youthfull nature is beyond controll.

Some examples are afforded,

In whose historie appears

Loosenesse in our yonger years:

These the Scriptures have recorded.

The verie first that e'r suck'd mothers tear,

Because his works were naught, his brothers good,

Did boil his choler to so strong a heat

That he must slake it in his brothers bloud.

How much rancour did he show

So much harmlesse bloud to spill,

And a quarter-part to kill

Of all mankind at a blow?

Unnaturall, accursed, gracelesse Cham

Never did grieve, nor sigh, nor blush, but he

Laugh'd at and mock'd his drunken fathers shame.

(A sober fathers curse his portion be.)

Prophane Esau did make sale

Of's birthright for's bellie-full;

As 'mongst us there's many a gull

That sells heaven for pots of ale.

And Absalom was most deform'd within;

His head-piece had more hair then wit by ods:

His beautie went no deeper then his skinne;

He fear'd not mans law nor regarded Gods.

In him David had a sonne

Beastly and ambitious too:

He did wrong his bed, and do

What he could to steal his throne.

Incestuous Amnon dotes upon his sister,

And in his own bloud cools his law lesse fires.

That brother should have sinn'd that had but kiss'd her,

If mov'd unto it by unchast desires:

But he makes a rape upon her,

And so furious is his lust

That it cannot hold but must

Rob a virgin of her honour.

And I could tell you of a number more

Most sinfull, vitious, vile, exorbitant,

Whose courses are upon the Scriptures score,

As if their youth had sealed them a grant

To be neither wise nor holy,

But to runne into excesse

Of all kind of wickednesse,

And do homage unto follie.

The sage Gymnosophists, who first did give

The wilder Indians good and wholesome laws:

The Magi, by whom Persia learn'd to live

In order: the Chaldei, whose wise laws

The Assyrians justly rul'd

And did guide in everie thing:

Numa, Romes devoutest King,

Who the elder Romanes school'd:

That famous Solon, whom th' Athenlans ow

For all their statutes: and Lycurgus, he

Whose wisdome taught the Spartanes how to know

What to omit and do: and more there be

That have publish'd wholesome laws

To curb all indeed; but yet

Chiefly 't was to put a bit

In mens wild and youthfull jaws.

It is a signe that colt is wild that needs

So strong a bridle. Ground that doth require

So much manuring sure is full of weeds.

It is because she wallows in the mire

That we need to wash a sow.

Men in youth must needs be bad,

To curb whom those laws were made

Which we told you of but now.

'T was a commanded custome that the Jews

Should once in ev'rie two and fiftie weeks

Visit their temple; no man might refuse

To worship there. Each fourth year the Greeks

Their Olympian sacrifice

Orderly performed: and

Th' Egyptians us'd to stand

Lifting up devoutest eyes

Unto their Idole ev'ry seventh yeare

Within th' appointed temple. And 't is said

Once in ten years the Romanes did appear

To sacrifice: then was Apollo paid

His great Hecatomb, and then

Unto Delphos many went

With their gifts, for thither sent

Presents ev'rie sort of men.

And of the Samnites authours do relate,

That th' ancient'st of them did most solemnly

Once in five years their Lustra celebrate:

But 't is delivered by Antiquitie

That the youth of all these nations

Strictly all commanded were

To these places to repair

Oftner to make their oblations.

What doth this intimate, but that the crimes

Of youth are great and frequent, and their vices

Exorbitant, that they so many times

Have need to purge them by such sacrifices?

By experience we do find

What bad courses men do follow

In their youth, and how they wallow

In base lusts of ev'rie kind.

And if you ask these brainlesse hot-spurres why

They dedicate themselves to such lewd courses;

They yet are young, these gallants still replie,

And youth must have its swing: but no remorse is

Wrought at all in any heart

For this lewdnesse; there remains

Not a thought within their brains,

That the youngest may depart.

Lord, take possession of my heart betimes:

My youth is fittest for thy service; take it

Unto thy self: make white those crimson crimes

That fain would soil it: let me never make it

A pretense (as many do)

To be lewd, but think that I

In the height of youth may die,

May die and be damned too.

Meditation 3.

PArents methinks betime should strive to make

Their children good, that heaven may receive them.

If God should send an early Death to take

Them from the earth, it cannot choose but grieve them,

And fill full with bitter woe

Any parents heart to see

That their children wicked be,

And Death come and find them so.

Those fruitfull couples whom the Lord hath blest

With children, should take greatest care to breed them

Religiously: In this more love's express'd,

Then in their care to cloth them or to feed them,

Or what else they can bestow

For their life or livelyhood,

And to do their children good

In the things that are below.

You must instruct your children in their way:

That's double, Civil and Religious too:

They must be taught Gods precepes to obey,

And to their neighbours give what is their due.

If you do not strive to set them,

By that rule which God hath given,

In the way that leads to heaven,

You did wrong them to beget them.

There's such a powre and force in education,

That justly we may call 't a second nature:

Nature finds matter, nurture gives the fashion,

And turns a man into another creature.

If a youth in's manners halt,

On his parents we do lay

All the blame, and use to say,

That his breeding is in fault.

The heathen, who did see but by that light

Which purblind nature lent them, ever caught

At all occasions they conceived might

Be helps to have their youth in goodnesse taught.

In their bodies would they find

(For no where but in the book

Of the creatures did they look)

Lessons to instruct the mind.

It is observ'd that Socrates let passe

No wayes nor means at all that might conduce

To their amendment: often to a glasse

He brought th…m, and that shadow had its use.

By his means their f…ces bred them:

For however their complexion

Did appear, by that …

From 't a lecture would he reade them.

That fair ones must take heed they did not soil

That comely outside with deformititie

Within: to have an inside foul would spoil

The choicest beautie: that their symmetry,

Just proportion of parts,

And their comlinesse of face

Was not worth a jo…e, if grace

Did not beautifie their hearts.

And that deformed ones should have a care,

That vertuous endowments, of the soul

Might recompense those blemishes that were

By nature plac'd to make the bodie foul:

That the mind and nothing else

Makes us either foul or fair.

Out-side beauties nothing are

To a mind where vertue dwells.

Of any age their youth is fitt'st to take

The print of vice or vertue: 't is a clean

Unwritten table, where a man may make

What characters he will. If e'r you mean

To make straight a crooked tree,

You must do 't while 't is a twig:

When your children are grown big

They will not reformed be.

Sometimes (if need require) you shall do well

To use the rod: if duly you correct them,

'T may be a means to whip their souls from hell:

From many sinnes may prudent stripes protect them.

No such physick as the rod:

There's health in a loving scourge,

It will childrens manners purge,

And will make them fit for God.

But whensoe'r you fasten any blows,

Let sinnes against the holy name of God

Be first corrected: for a child that knows

To give his due to heav'n, on him the rod

Will prevail with little labour

To correct him how to live

Civilly, and how to give

What he ow… unto his neighbour.

And yet you must be moderate in strokes:

You may not make a trade of chastisements.

A parent that corrects too much provokes

His child to wrath; so pious documents

Will be cast away in vain.

Too much merciemercy is not fit,

Neither too much rigour; yet

Mercie's better of the twain.

That high and great Jehovah, whom we find

Adorn'd with merciemercy, goodnesse, justice, wrath,

Is evermore to merciemercy most inclin'd:

Of all the rest that most employment hath.

He that suffered near mount Sion,

(And whatever he did hallow

By his practice we should follow)

Was a Lamb as well's a Lion.

And e'r you strike observe their dispositions:

Those foure complexions in mans grosser part

Are but a few; the finer part's conditions

Are many more. Some at a look will start;

Others will but make a mock

At the lash it self, and never

Will expresse the least endevour

To amend with many a knock.

The Nat'ralists can tell you of a stone

Extremely hard, which bloud or milk will soften:

But with the strongest hammer there is none

Can do it, though he beat it ne'r so often.

The sea yields a certain weed,

Which, if gently grip'd, will flie;

Roughly, will yield presently:

Rigour such stout natures need.

Some childrens dispositions are like nettles:

The gentl'er you do handle them they sting

The more; fair means in them no vertue settles:

Some are like thorns; the harder you do wring

The more deeply will they pierce.

Mark their natures, and you shall

By due chastisements recall

Both the gentle and the fierce.

But it must be 'bove all your chiefest care

To shine before your children by the light

Of good example: for examples are

Of most prevailing natures. What the sight

Can be master of appears

To be more convincing farre

Then all other truths that are

OnelyOnly objects of the ears.

A high perfection did the heathen deem it

To imitate their Jove: were it but in

His close adulteries, they did esteem is

A commendable passage not a sinne.

In a wrong way, or a right,

Samplers lead, I know not how:

If King Alexander bow

Not a courtier stands upright.

If Cyrus nose be bad, or if a scaire

Chance to disfigure his imperiall face;

If Plato's learned shoulders be too square;

One's subjects, th' others scholars, are so base

As to draw 't into a fashion:

And if Aristotle stammer,

All his boyes will lisp and hammer

Out their words in imitation.

If cruel Dionysius tyrannize,

Each man grows fierce: and if Antiochus

Be lustfull, he is not accounted wise

That will not be effeminate: and thus

Ptolemeus Philadelph

Loving letters, by example

Egypt underfoot did trample

Ignorance as did himself.

With scholars (like himself) Augustus fill'd

The Romane Empire: and Tiberius he

Stor'd it with such as were exactly skill'd

In fair dissimulation, and could be

Leaders in the hatefull train

Of those monsters who by heart

Had learn'd perfectly the art

To dissemble, lie, and …eigne.

Good Constantine's example fill'd the land

With Christians like himself, and Julian's did

Beget a troup of Atheists: such command

Examples have. In holy writ we reade

That examples either way,

For God or against him, for

Great Jehovah's worship or

Baalim's, did the people sway.

If Israel's or Judah's King were good,

The people presently destroy'd their groves:

Scarce in the land a graven image stood:

High places owls did rest in: each man loves

(At the least in shew) that Jealous

God that in the desert fed them,

And from Egypt's bondage led them;

For him onelyonly are they zealous.

If Israel's or Judah's King were bad,

So were the people: Altars straight were rear'd

To senselesse Idoles; not a house but had

Their graven Images; and no man fear'd

Unto Baal to bend his knee.

Men live by similitude

More then law; and most conclude

Upon what their Princes be.

If Nebuchadnezzar the mightie King

Be pleas'd to fall down to a golden image,

Thither with speed do their devotions bring

People of ev'rie kingdome, tongue, and linage.

Three excepted, all adore him:

There's not one enough precise

To refuse; it doth suffice

That the King did so before him.

Thou art a King if thou a parent art,

Each family's a pettig kingdome, and

The parents Monarch: 't were a kingly part

To make thy little subjects understand

How in vertue to excell

By thy practice; that's a skill

'Bove all other: children will

No way else be taught so well.

Look how the primum mobile doth move,

Accordingly do move the other spheres:

As in a Jack the wheel that is above

With its first mover just proportion bears.

In a familie 't is so:

Look what way the parents take,

That the rest their rule will make,

Chiefly there the children go.

Not any godly precept so exact is,

Which you shall teach your children to obey;

But that, if you shall thwart it by your practice,

Thus will your junior houshold-members say,

At least they will whisper thus,

If vertue be good, then why

Do not you live vertuously?

If not, why d' ye presse 't on us?

If by these wayes you strive to educate,

Whom God hath blest with fruitfull progenies,

Your children well, their early Death or late

Shall not a jote augment your miseries.

A childs death is not a rod

To afflict a parents heart.

He that dies well doth depart

Hence that he may live with God.

Lord, if thou make my wife a fruitfull vine,

Make it withall my chiefest care to dresse

The branches well; the glorie shall be thine,

And if they die my grief shall be the lesse.

A childs death's a precious savour

In thy nostrils that was here

Taught to live, Lord, in thy fear;

For he dieth in thy favour.

Meditation 4.

IF youth it self may drop into the grave,

When children die methinks they should bequeath

Surviving parents comforts. Sure they have

No cause (were not affection strong) to grieve

Overmuch, as many do:

For Death is impartiall,

By his stroke all ages fall,

Both the old'st and youngest too.

Think duly on 't. Why should your eyes runne o't

For what you have no way to remedie?

If you should heav'n eternally implore,

It would not send them back. But you 'll replie,

'Cause there's no way to be found

That may help us to recover

Them again, our eyes runne over,

And our tears do so abound.

Nor ever will your highest floud of sorrow

Transport them back into the world again:

Your selves may follow them before to morrow.

Those deep-fetch'd sighs are smok'd out all in …ain,

So are all those drops you mourn

Shed in vain; hap'ly you may

Soon go after them, but they

Are too happie to return.

Is it your love that doth produce such grones?

How easily alas is love mistaken!

Methinks you cannot love and grieve at once;

To love were to rejoyce that they have shaken

Hands with miserie to dwell

In a world of blisse above;

Grief at this is farre from love,

It seems not to wish them well.

Or is 't because that they are dead you weep?

I do not think that when they were begotten,

You dream'd them death-free, or had hopes to keep

Them here for ever; that they would be rotten

In their graves you could not choose

But consider: for a span

To be quickly ended, can

Never go for any news.

Nor with good reason can you lay the blame

On Death at all, but on your selves that did

Beget them mortall: for the very same

Matter wherewith they were begot and fed,

Fits them for an alteration

By the hand of Death. If you

Grudge that Death hath ta'n his due,

You may blame their generation.

Or do you grieve because they di'd so soon?

If wayes be foul, and journeys perillous,

Who taketh up his lodging e'r t be noon

Is best at case. 'T is like God loveth those

Whom he takes betime away:

Sad experience let… us know

That the happi'st here below

Have a miserable stay.

Or is your onelyonly child deceas'd, that passion

Doth domineer so? here I could allow

Methinks your tears a free immoderation,

But that (on better ground then Jephtha's vow)

I remember what was done

By that parent, who is penn'd

Down for great Jehovah's friend,

In case of his onelyonly sonne.

Ev'n when 't was dead a miracle did fill

His Sarahs womb, but it was fill'd but once.

Isaac was all: Yet Abraham must kill

This all himself. God did it for the nonce

That he might his graces prove,

Yet the man made no denyall,

But did by so strange a triall

Manifest his faith and love.

This case must needs strike nearer to the heart

Then yours; yet he doth presently submit.

Love (I confesse) is very loth to part

With what it loves, but grace doth put a bit

Into natures mouth that she

May not grumble nor repine

At what's a decree Divine,

But subscribe it chearfully.

Just like the Autumn. sap of fruitfull trees

So love descend…; and it is a…dent when

Dispersed, b…t by infinite degrees

More arde…t when it is contracted: men

That have but an onelyonly sonne,

If Death take him hence, their losse

Is a great one; but this crosse

Must be born. Thy will be done,

Is what your selves do pray for every day:

And when this will of God's declared, you

Greatly offend if you do murmure. May

Not God, and Sinne, and Nature claim their due?

Very ill you do behave you

If you give not heav'n leave

Thankfully for to bereave

You again of what it gave you.

Lord, if thou please to stock my table round

About with children, yet I will be glad:

Nor shall my sorrow over much abound,

Though I do see them in their grave-clothes clad;

For the sooner are they blest:

And within the shortest space

Whom thou help'st to winne a race,

They the sooner are at rest.

Meditation 5.

VVE do not die by chance nor yet by fortune,

But how and when the Lord will have us die:

He numbers all our dayes; we cannot shorten

Nor lengthen them a minute: Destiny

Neither spinnes nor cuts the thread.

God a certain period sets:

No man shorter falls, or gets

Further, then the bounds decreed.

If God vouchsafe to number out the hairs

That do adorn and cloth our sinfull heads;

Who doubteth that his providence forbears

To count our dayes? If not a sparrow treads

On the earth's face thus or thus,

But his providence awaketh

For to note it, sure he taketh

Greater care by farre of us.

If any godlesse wits so curious be

To talk of Hezekiah's fifteen years,

His sentence God did change, not his decree,

The answer is: yet Esay's tongue appears

To speak not a jote the lesse

Truth; 't was with a supposition:

God doth th…eaten with condition

Either …expresse.

When Pestilence, that lothsome, dreadfull hag,

Bepatch'd with botches, wanders up and down,

And into ev'ry houshold drops the plague,

Scarce any Turk in an infected town

But will wise and friend afford

Daily visits and imbraces:

They flie no contagious places,

Nor fear either bed or bord.

Their reason is, Gods providence doth write

Their fortunes on their foreheads; neither can

Their day of life be longer, nor their night

Of Death come sooner then God wills it: Man

Must yield's ghost when God will have it.

For health and life, if God will

Save it, 't is not plague can kill:

If not, 't is not they can save it.

Such block-heads have not brains enough to think

That as the time, so God withall decrees

The means of life; as physick, meat and drink,

Clothes, recreations, and what else he sees

Needfull. They themselves destroy,

And are to their safety strangers,

That runne into mortall dangers,

And not shun them when they may.

Howe'r imploy'd, Lord, grant I may have leisure

Religiously to meditate that thou

My dayes dost number, and my life dost measure,

And make me think, Lord, that this very now,

That this twinkling of an eye

Is the period thou hast set:

Lord, grant I may ne'r forget

That this moment I may die.

PART III. Of Deaths suddennesse.

THough sometimes Death doth stay till it be late

At night, untill our most decrepit years,

And when he comes, doth (like a King) in state

Send harbingers before; yet Death appears

Sometimes unlook'd for early in the morning,

And takes us up before he gives us warning.

When at full tide our youthfull bloud doth flow

In every vein, and when our pulses dance

A healthfull measure, when our stomachs know

No qualms at all, as we would say by chance

Snatch'd are our bodies to their longest homes,

And Death is past before a sicknesse comes.

How many sleepie mortals go to bed

With healthful bodies, and do rise no more!

How many hungry mortals have been sed

Contentedly at dinner? yet before

Against a second meal they wh…t their knives

Death steals away their stomachs and their lives.

How many in the morning walk abroad

For to be breath'd on by the keener air?

Perhaps to clarifie their grosser bloud,

Or else to make their rougher checks look falt.

But e'r they tread a furlong in the frost,

Death nips them: so their former labour's lost.

Nature is parsimonious: Man may live

With little: but alas with how much lesse

A man may die! There's nothing but may give

A mortall blow: small matters may undresse

Our souls of clay. A thousand wayes we have

To send our crazie bodies to the grave.

The elements con…eder how they may

Procure our Death: the Air we suck to live

It self hath poi'sned thousands in a day,

And made such havock that the slain did strive

For elbow-room in Church-yards: houses were

Good cheap, and onelyonly shrowds and coffins dear.

If we could come to speak with Pharaoh's ghost,

'T would tell how many met with sudden graves

Beneath the water; that a mighty host

Was slain and buried by the surly waves,

Except a few which surfeted with store

The crop-sick sea did vomit on the shore.

Sometimes our mother Earth, as if she were

So hunger-bitten that she needs must eat

Her children, gapes as for some toothsome cheer,

And multitudes one swallow down doth let;

Which either in her womb she doth bestow,

Or else d…th send them to the world below.

That usefull creature Fire, whose light and heat

Doth comfort, and, when Earth doth penance, warm us,

Whose cookerie provides us wholesome meat;

Yet mortally this element doth harm us.

One morning sent from heav'n such dreadfull flashes

As did intomb five cities in their ashes.

We may remember some that have been kill'd

By falls of buildings; some, by drunken swords.

By beasts both wild and tame our bloud is spill'd.

There's not a creature but a death affords.

'Bove fourti… childrens limbs God's anger tears

In pieces with the teeth of savage bears.

But there's some likelyhood that sudden Death

By mean like these may easily befall us:

But many times we mortalls lose our breath

By wayes lesse probable. The Lord doth call us

Upon a sudden hence by petty things:

Sometimes the meanest means Death's …rrand brings.

Our staff of lise may kill: a little crumb

Of bread may choke us going down aw…y.

A small hair in their drink hath caused some

To breath their last. By any thing we die.

Sometimes a sudden grief …r sudden joy

Have might enough to take our souls away.

Meditation 1.

HOw weak's the thread of life, that any thing

How weak so e'r can break it by and by!

How short's the thread of life, that Death can bring

Both ends of it together suddenly!

Well may the scriptures write the life of man

As weak as water and as short's a span.

How soon is water spilt upon the ground!

Once spilt, what hand can gather 't up again?

Fome that doth rise to day is seldome found

Floting tomorrow. When the wanton rain

Gets bubbles to make sport with on the water,

A minute breaks them into their first matter.

Such is our life. How soon doth Death uncase

Our souls? and when they once are fled away,

Who can return them? As upon the face

Of thirstie ground when water's shed to day,

The morrow sees it not: so when we die

None can revive us; as we fall, we lie.

Our life's a vapour. Vapours do arise

Sometimes indeed with such a seeming power,

As if they would eclipse the glorious skies,

And muffle up the world, but in an houre

Or two at most these vapours are blown o'r,

And leave the air as clear as 't was before.

We look big here a little while and bristle,

And shoulder in the smiling world, as though

There were no dancing but as we would whistle,

So strangely domineer we here below.

But as a vapour in a sun-shine day

We vanish on a sudden quite away.

Our life is like the smoke of new-made fires

As we in age and stature upward tend,

Our dissolution is so much the nigher.

Smoke builds but castles in the air: ascend

Indeed it doth aloft, but yet it must

At high'st dissolve, we vanish into dust.

What is a shadow? Nothing Grant it w…re

A thing that had a name and being too,

Yet let a cloud 'twixt us and heav'n appear,

Its turn'd into its former nothing. … o

Our shadows vanish? surely so do we:

At noon a man, at night a corps we see.

Our life's a cloud, and from varietie

Of vapours are created diverse …:

The stronger last a time, the weaker flie

With lesse ado; yet half a day transports

Both strong'st and weakest hence, and in their …light

Their nimble speed outrunnes the quickest sight.

Some men are healthfull, merrie, lustie, strong;

Some crazy, weak, sad, sickly, d…ooping: both

Post hence with winged speed: we may not wrong

Life's footmanship; for sure with greater sloth

Clouds through the air the strongest wind doth send,

Then frail mans life doth gallop to its end.

With greater sloth? A man that now is here,

Perhaps an houre, yea half a minute hence,

That man may in another world appear.

Our life moves faster then those things which sense

Acquaint us with, faster then ships by farre,

Or birds, or bullet… that do plow the air.

All flesh is grasse: how suddenly that fades!

Grasse in the morning standeth proudly green,

E'r night the husbandmen prepare their blades

To cut it down, and not a leaf is seen

But e'r the morrow's wither'd into hay,

That in its summer-suit was cloth'd to day.

We grow and flourish in the world a space,

Our dayes with ease, mi…th, health, strength, heav'n doth crown:

But 't is not long we run this happy race,

Death cometh with his sithe and mows us down,

When we are apt to say, for ought we know

As yet we have an age of dayes to grow.

Our life's a flower that groweth in the field.

A garden-flower is but a fading thing,

Though it hath hedges, banks, and walls to shield

It self from cropping: long 't is e'r the spring

Doth bring it forth; three quarters of a yeare

Are gone before its beauty doth appear.

And when it shineth in its fairest pride,

One hand or other will be sure to pluck it.

But let's suppose all snatching fingers ty'd,

And grant withall that never Bee doth suck it

To blemish it a jote, yet will the breath

Of winter blow the fairest flower to death.

'T is long before we get us very farre

Into the world: for after generation

There is a time when lifelesse lumps we are,

And have not bodies of a humane fashion:

Such as we have both life and motion want,

And when we live we live but like a plant.

A while we do but grow: then like a beast

We have our senses: next indeed we live

The life of him that lives to be a feast

For despicable worms. The womb doth give

No passage to us yet; we are (like corn

Sown lately) fit to be but are not born.

When born, 't is long before we can procure

Our legs or understandings to assist us:

And then 't is long before we grow mature:

And all this while if sudden Death hath mist us,

Yet in the hoary winter of our age

Our part is ended and we quit the stage.

Lord, what is man? Lord, rather what am I?

I cannot tell my self unlesse thou teach me:

From thee came Know thy self down through the …kie

To mortalls here. Thy servant doth beseech the…

To make me know, though it be to my shame,

How vanishing, how weak, and frail I am.

Meditation 2.

VVHat would I do if I were sure to die

Within this houre? sure heartily repent,

My sinfull couch should never more be dri…

But drown'd in tears, sad grones my heart should rent,

And my sorrow still increase

With repenting till I die,

That once reconciled I

Might be found of God in peace.

Then presently I'll set about it, for

My time's uncertain, and for ought I know

God may not leave my soul a minute more

To animate my body here below.

Deep fetch'd sighs and godly sorrow

Shall possesse my heart to day:

'T is a foolish sinne to say

That I will repent to morrow.

What if I die before? just as the tree

Doth fall it lies. When I am in the grave

I cannot grieve for sinne, nor can I be

Converted unto God, nor pardon crave.

Had I breath and grace to crave it,

Yet God's time of mercie's gone:

'T is giv'n in this life alone,

In the next I cannot have it.

What would I leave undone if gh…stly Death

Stood at my elbow? sure I would not wallow

In those pollutions that reigne here beneath;

No lewd and wicked courses would I follow.

I should tremble at a thought

Of uncleannesse, if I were

Sure that dreadfull time were near

When I must to earth be brought.

Why should I sinne at all? for in the act

Of my next sinne a sudden Death may catch me.

(A town secure is much the sooner sack'd)

What know I but God setteth Death to watch me,

That when any lust hath press'd me

For his service, that I may

Down to hell without delay,

Death may presently arrest me?

If we did well, still should we fear to mee…

Death in those places where we use to sinne,

And as we enter think we heare the feet

Of Death behind us coming softly in?

We should fear when sinnes delight us,

When we swallow any crime,

Lest that very point of time

Justice should send Death to smite us.

I know whatever is on this side hell,

Is merciemercy all: that we were not sent thither

When we sinn'd last, is merciemercy. What befell

Zimri and Cozbi as they lay together?

Phinchas zealous spear did thrust

Both to death, and bored holes

To let out those guilty souls,

Which were melted into lust.

Help me, O Lord, to do and leave undone

What thou command'st, for sudden Death prepare me,

That at what time soe'r my glasse is run

Thy holy Angels may to heav'n bear me.

Give thy servant grace, that I

May so fear the face of sinne

As a serpents, lest that in

Th' unrepented act I die.

Meditation 3.

DOth Death come suddenly? so much the better:

If I am readie and do daily die,

So much the sooner 't will my soul unfetter

T' enjoy the best degree of libertie.

And if Death will send me where

I shall evermore remain,

I will never care how vain,

Or how frail my life is here.

My life is like the wind: but when this …

I… pass'd I shall eternally enjoy

A place in heav'n, where all is calm enough,

Where never blast is felt that brings annoy,

Where is everlasting case,

Not a storm nor tempest there,

Nor a jote of trouble, where

All is quietnesse and peace.

My life is like a vapour: but assoon

As this thin mist, this vapour, is dispersed,

My day shall be an undeclining noon,

Whose glorious brightnesse cannot be rehearsed,

Which will shew me (for so clear

And so shining is that place)

God immortall face to face,

Whom I saw but darkly her….

My life is water spilt and cast away

Upon the ground: but after it is shod,

In stead thereof I shall a stream injoy,

As Crystall clear, which from the throne of God

And the Lamb of God proceedeth.

Water 't is of life, and lasteth

Ever, which a soul that tasteth

Once no more refreshing needeth.

My life is like a shadow that doth vanish:

But whensoe'r this shadow's vanish'd quite,

Substantiall glories will my soul replenish,

And solid joyes will crown it with deligh….

The worlds are but fading joyes;

Shadows we all purchase here:

Never untill Death appear

Have we true and reall joyes.

My life's a flower: but when it withers here

It is transplanted into paradise,

Where all things planted flourish all the year,

Where Boreas never breaths a cake of ice.

With sweet air the place is blest;

There i… an eternall spring:

Thither, Lord, thy servant bring.

Here my homely Muse doth rest,

Nor another flight will make

Till she see how this will take.

FINIS.

End of the text · Edward Buckler, A Buckler Against the Fear of Death (1640)