Poetical Fragments, Poem 1
LOVE Breathing THANKS and PRAISE.
The Firſt Part.
ETernal God, this Worm lifts up the head,
And looks to Thee, by Thee encouraged.
Cheer'd by thy Bounty, it would ſpeak thy praiſe,
Whoſe wondrous Love hath meaſur'd all my daies:
If thou vouchſafe to make a Worm rejoyce,
Give him a thankful praiſing heart and voice.
Thy ſhining Glory bleſſed Angels ſee:
Angels muſt ſing thy Higheſt praiſe, not we:
But if thy warming beams cauſe Worms to ſpeak,
Their baſer part will not the Conſort break.
When Time was yet no meaſure; when the Sun
Its rapid motion had not yet begun;
When Heav'n, & Earth, & Sea, were yet unfram'd,
Angels and Men, and all things elſe unnam'd;
When there did nothing elſe exiſt but Thee,
Thou waſt the ſame, and ſtill the ſame wilt be:
When there was none to know or praiſe thy Name,
Thou waſt in perfect Bleſſedneſs the ſame.
The Father, Word and Spirit, One in Three,
Trinity doth with Unity agree.
Th' Eternal Life, that quickens all that lives;
The ſoul of ſouls; the Light which all Light gives
Immenſe and boundleſs, preſent every where:
Beyond all place and creatures, thou art there,
Uncomprehended, comprehending all:
Foreknowing whatſoever ſhall befall.
Uncaus'd, thou cauſeſt all that hath a Being:
Unknown, thou know'ſt; unſeen, thou art all-ſeeing.
Though neceſſary, yet without conſtraint;
Unmov'd, yet moving all, doſt never faint.
All things depend on Thee; and Thou on none;
And changing all things, art unchang'd alone.
One in th' innumerable multitude;
Perfectly ordering things which ſeem moſt rude.
Infinite Power, one accent of whoſe breath,
Can ſentence Heav'n and Earth to life or death.
Yea, by one act of efficacious Will
Canſt make and unmake worlds; give life, and kill.
Reaſon tranſcending all created Reaſon;
Not only knowing all things in their ſeaſon,
But with a Knowledge perfect, infinite,
Knowing Thy ſelf in Thine Eternal Light.
A knowledge which doth utterly excel,
The Knowledge of the Earth, the Heav'ns & Hell;
To know ten thouſand worlds, were but to know
The finite ſtreams which from thy Will do flow:
Exiſtents, Futures, all Contingencies
Conceal'd from man, are naked to thine eyes:
Of every thing thou know'ſt the Form and Cauſe;
As giving all their Nature and their Laws.
Nature's whole frame is but one piece to thee.
The Place and Uſe of all things thou doſt ſee.
The Globes of Heav'n and Earth are in thy ſpan;
Thou ſeeſt not things by parcels, like poor Man.
Our narrow minds ſee here and there a letter,
Not rightly plac'd, and therefore read no better:
We make the Events of this day our ſorrow,
Becauſe we know not what will be to morrow.
Things preſent, paſt and future; old and new,
Thou ſee'ſt entirely with one ſingle view.
Thou ſeeſt all at home that's underſtood:
Loving thy ſelf, thou loveſt all that's Good.
Goodneſs it ſelf, and perfect Excellence,
Tranſcending humane Reaſon, Will and Senſe:
Good in thy ſelf, and to thy ſelf alone,
Before thou waſt to any creature known.
Bleſt in thy own Eternal pleaſing ſight;
Thy own Eternal Love, Thy own Delight.
Thoſe that can find in Thee no greater Good,
Than that thou giv'ſt them life, and health, & food,
And bountifully from thy ample Treaſure
Bleſſeſt thy creatures with deſired pleaſure,
Set up themſelves, and do the worſt they can,
To make themſelves the Gods, and Thee the Man.
They that can love thee but for loving them,
Make thee the casket, and themſelves the gem.
To love thy ſelf is infinitely better,
Than if Love made a world of worlds its debter.
Thy own Perfections by Attraction move,
As the chief formal Object of Man's Love.
Though our own Good we may, and muſt intend;
Thy ſimple Goodneſs is Man's chiefeſt End.
They that deny this, never knew Love's force,
Which to meer Excellence hath its recourſe:
Or never well conſidered Love's End,
Which unto Good, for Goodneſs ſake doth tend.
To be Man's End, is but to be moſt Lov'd:
And Good's the Loadſtone by which Love is mov'd.
What though to Thee the creature nothing add?
That proves Thee perfect; neither weak nor bad;
And therefore fit to be the Final Cauſe,
Which all hearts by attractive Goodneſs draws:
Love is the Final and Enjoying act;
Cloſing with Thee by thy Magnetick tract:
Not as it mourneth for the Good we want;
Nor as it after diſtant Good doth pant;
… as it reacheth its deſires:
And more as it with Pleaſure Thee admires.
This Love, beſides its Object, hath no End:
It doth not to ſome Higher Virtue tend:
But from a ſeed, grows up to higher ſtature,
Of Divine Complacence, which is its nature.
All other Grace is but the means to it:
They draw the bow; but Love the mark doth hit.
But ſinners loſt in SELF riſe not above
The lower Region of their own SELF-LOVE.
Experience aſſures me that I can
Love a moſt learned, wiſe and holy man
Unſeen, my very heart is to him knit,
Without reſpect to any benefit.
Reaſon convinceth me, that I ſhould erre,
If the known BEST, my Love ſhould not prefer:
Should I not rather chuſe my ſelf alone
To be annihilated, or undone,
Than the whole world ſhould bear the ſame diſtreſs,
Or Towns, or Countries; ſeeing I am leſs?
Or the Creator ſhould take down the Sun?
Deſtroy the Earth? or Rivers ceaſe to run?
Reaſon taught Heathens that their Country's good,
Was worth the ſhedding of their vital blood:
A faithful Subject thinks his Life a thing
Meet to be caſt away to ſave his King.
True Souldiers would chuſe death, if ſo they may
But ſave their Captains lives, or win the day.
Many have choſe to dye through love of friends;
Preferring them above all ſelfiſh Ends.
It is not Reaſon, but blind ſelfiſh Paſſion,
If One refuſe to dye to ſave a Nation.
A ſilly uſeleſs Wretch ſhould not refuſe
His Death, before a uſeful mans, to chuſe.
My Neighbour as my ſelf I muſt reſpect,
And for my Brethren muſt my Life reject. (1 Joh. 3. 16.)
O doleful proof of Man's unhappy fall!
That loves not GOD above Himſelf and All!
And if I love him moſt, He is my End:
Man's Love above the Lover muſt aſcend.
But O how wiſely haſt thou made the twiſt!
To Love Thee and My Self do well conſiſt.
Love is the cloſure of Connaturals;
The Soul's return to its Originals:
As every Brook is towards the Ocean bent;
And all things to their proper Element:
And as the inclination of the Sight,
How ſmall ſoever, is unto the Light:
As the toucht Needle pointeth towards the Pole:
Thus unto Thee inclines the Holy Soul;
It trembleth and is reſtleſs till it come
Unto thy Boſom, where it is at home.
Yet no ſuch Union dare the Soul deſire,
As Parts have with the Whole, and ſparks to fire;
But as dependant, low, ſubordinate,
Such as thy Will of nothing did create:
As tendeth to the Sun, the ſmalleſt Eye
Of ſilly vermine, or the pooreſt Flie.
My own Salvation when I make my End;
Full Mutual Love is all that I intend.
And in this cloſure though I happy be,
It's by Intending and Admiring Thee.
O happy Grace! which feeds above the Skies!
And cauſeſt Man above Himſelf to riſe!
And ſaves what it denys! when worldlings loſe
What they deſpis'd, and what they lov'd and choſe!
The more I do my ſelf in Love neglect,
And only to thy Goodneſs have reſpect,
When moſt my ſelf I from my ſelf abſtract,
This is the ſweeteſt, and ſelf-pleaſing act!
Even when I ſeem to leave my ſelf behind,
Coming to Thee, with Thee my ſelf I find.
When I am leaſt the Object of my Love,
And unto Thee do moſt entirely move,
My Soul, the willing Agent, drawn by Grace,
Will Reſt in Love, and Viſion of thy Face.
But, in this wilderneſs and vale of Tears,
How is Love dampt by ignorance and fears!
For no Man's Love his knowledge can exceed:
And guilty Terrours diſaffection breed.
Mortals can know thee but as in a glaſs.
True formal Knowledge doth man's mind ſurpaſs.
No Thoughts or Names are adequate to Thee:
They are but Metaphors from what we ſee;
Which firſt thy Works and Image ſignifie;
And thence to Thee mens riſing Minds apply.
As far as Faith comes ſhort of perfect Sight,
And this dark Priſon of the Glorious Light;
So far this diſtant mediate Love's below
The heavenly Love which mortals cannot know.
What will it be to love Thee face to face,
When thou appear'ſt ſo lovely in this Glaſs?
Thy Goodneſs is not to that world confin'd:
To worthleſs, ſinful mortals thou art kind:
Thy mercies to the ſmalleſt are not ſmall:
To ſome more wonderful, but great to all.
Thy matchleſs Power doth it ſelf expreſs,
Upon the ſmalleſt Worm, or pile of Graſs.
The Methods of thy Wiſdom are profound:
All muſt admire the depths which none can ſound.
When Man from Holy Love, turn'd to a Lye,
Thy Image loſt, became thine Enemy;
O what a Seal did Love and Wiſdom find
To reimprint thine Image on Man's Mind?
Thou ſentſt the Signet from thine own right hand,
Made man for them that had themſelves unman'd.
Th' Eternal Son, who in thy boſom dwelt;
Eſſential burning Love, mens hearts to melt:
Thy lively Image; he that knew thy mind:
Fit to illuminate and heal the blind.
With Love's great Office, thou didſt him adorn:
Redeemer of the helpleſs and forlorn:
On Love's chief work and meſſage he was ſent:
Our Fleſh he took; our pain he underwent:
Thy pardoning, ſaving Love to Man did preach:
The Reconciler ſtood up in the breach:
The uncreated Image of thy Love,
By his Aſſumption, and the Holy Dove,
On his Own Fleſh thy Image firſt impreſt;
And by that ſtamp renews it on the reſt.
Love was his Nature, Doctrine, Life and Breath:
Love flamed in his Sufferings and Death:
Thus Love thine Image, Love on Man doth print:
This Coin, thy Son, thy Word and Spirit mint.
He that will have it True, muſt have it here;
Though Love prepare its way by Grief and Fear:
Yea oft by theſe expreſſeth its Deſire;
They are ſincere when kindled by its fire.
Theſe are LOVE's Methods, paſſing tongue & pen:
Wonders and Joys, to Angels, and to Men.
The Second Part.
LOVE, which can make its Object, did produce
This Worm, in ſeaſon, for his proper uſe:
In the Earth's Garden, the moſt happy Land,
Where Chriſtians dwel, & Chriſtian Kings command:
Where plenteous ſtreams of living waters flow;
Where the firſt-fruits of Paradiſe do grow:
Whence Proud, Dark, Bloody Popery was driven:
To whom the opened Book of God was given.
Where ſacred guides, and books, and helps abound;
And all that will may hear the joyful ſound.
My Parents here thy skilful hand did plant,
Free from the ſnares of Riches and of Want.
Their tender care was us'd for me alone,
Becauſe thy providence gave them but One:
Their early Precepts ſo poſſeſt my heart,
That taking root, they did not thence depart.
Thy Wiſdom ſo contriv'd my Education,
As might expoſe me to the leaſt temptation.
Much of that guilt thy Mercy did prevent,
In which my ſpring-time I ſhould elſe have ſpent.
Yet Sin ſprung up, and early did appear;
…n love of play, and lyes produc'd by fear:
An appetite pleas'd with forbidden fruit,
A proud delight in literate repute;
Exceſs of pleaſure in vain Tales, Romances;
Time ſpent in feigned Hiſtories and Fancies:
In idle talk, conform to company;
Childhood and Youth had too much vanity.
Conſcience was oft reſiſted when it checkt,
And holy duty I did much neglect.
Yet patience bore; thy Spirit ſtill did ſtrive:
Reſtleſs Convictions ſtill were kept alive.
Thou wouldſt not give me over, till thy Grace
Reviv'd thy Image which ſin did deface.
Thou ſtrangely putſt ſuch Books into my hand,
As cauſed me my caſe to underſtand:
As toucht my conſcience, wakened my heart,
And laid it under careful fears and ſinart.
And made me queſtion with a deeper ſenſe,
Whither my ſoul muſt go when it goes hence.
Then did thy Light detect the vanity
Of all the Joys and Hopes below the Sky.
The fruitleſs busſle which the Worldling makes;
The madneſs of the courſe the Sinner takes;
The wicked world I thought a Bedlam was:
And ſenſleſs Sinners hearts were ſtone or braſs:
I wondred men could live ſo careleſly,
Ready to paſs into Eternity!
And O how eaſily could I confute
All that againſt a holy life diſpute?
I wondred at my ſelf that ſtaid ſo long,
So little toucht with Arguments ſo ſtrong!
Laughing and playing, as if all were well,
For ought I knew, near to the brink of Hell.
I marvell'd at my former ſenſleſneſs!
My ſin and miſery I did confeſs.
And now what horrid darkneſs on my mind,
Never before lamented did I find?
Sin was like ſickneſs in my fleſh and bone,
Which only by the Book before was known.
Chriſt's Office now I better underſtood,
The need my Soul had of his cleanſing Blood:
How inſufficient of my ſelf I was,
To bring my own deliverance to paſs:
Now I began to feel as well as ſee,
How near the Word of Grace concerned me:
That all means elſe in Heaven and Earth were vain;
My Peace with God, and pardon to obtain!
To whom elſe ſhould my ſinful Soul have gone?
But for my Saviour, I had been undone.
Oh my dear God! how precious is thy Love?
Thus thou prepar'ſt us for the Life above.
The heav'nly Powers wch made my heart to quake,
My Priſon bonds and doors did open ſhake:
Sin now was folly, villany and ſhame:
God, Heav'n, Chriſt, Holineſs, ſeem not the ſame:
How thou wouldſt uſe me, yet I did not know,
Whether my ſin thou wouldſt forgive, or no:
But well I ſaw there was no turning back:
Nature is loth to go to Hell awake:
Thy Goſpel told me, I might mercy find:
Nothing but Hell and Darkneſs was behind:
At laſt thy Grace brought me to this concluſion,
To HOPE and SEEK I fixt my reſolution.
O my dear God! How precious is thy Love?
Thy Griefs prepare us for the Joys above.
Yet theſe my wounds and ſmart were not ſo great,
As many's who ſate long in ſcorners ſeat:
Nor did the change ſo ſuddenly begin,
As to make known when ſpecial Grace came in:
In my young years thou hadſt convinc'd my Soul:
Conſcience did childiſh vanity controul:
I lik'd thy waies as beſt: I honour'd thoſe,
That Folly ſhun'd, and Holy Wiſdom choſe:
Thou hadſt prevented Oaths and horrid crimes;
And the enormous vices of the times:
Preſerving me from youthful luſts and rage:
The thoughts of Thee increaſing with my Age.
This greateſt Change began when I was green,
Having not much above three luſtres ſeen:
Therefore I doubted whether it were true,
Becauſe its entrance I no better knew:
Long was I ſadly queſtioning thy Grace,
Becauſe thy Spirits ſteps I could not trace.
The difference is ſo great 'twixt Heav'n and Hell
That thoſe muſt differ much who there muſt dwell
I fear'd the change which rais'd my ſoul no higher
Would not ſuffice to ſave me from Hell fire.
But above all, I thought ſo Hard a heart,
Could not among the living have a part.
I thought thy Son would never heal my ſore,
Unleſs my tears and ſorrow had been more.
I wonder'd at my great ſtupidity!
That could not weep when I deſerv'd to dye.
I wonder'd, things ſo great as Heav'n and Hell,
Did on my heart with no more feeling dwell!
That words which ſuch amazing things import,
Did not ſink deeper, and my ſoul tranſport!
That things of Everlaſting conſequence,
Did not affect me with a deeper ſenſe.
And that a ſoul ſo near its final doom,
Could give theſe worldly trifles any room.
That on theſe ſhadows I could caſt an eye,
While Death & Judgment, Heav'n & Hell ſtood by.
I wonder'd when my odious ſin was nam'd,
I was no more confounded and aſham'd!
Many a time I beg'd a tender heart,
And never pray'd ſo much for joy, as ſmart.
I could have kiſs'd the place where I did kneel,
If what my tongue had ſpoke, my heart could feel.
Theſe were my cryes when I to Thee did ſpeak,
O that this heart of ſtone might melt or break!
Theſe were my groans; this was my daily breath;
… ſave me from Hard-heartedneſs and Death!
This was the title which I us'd to take,
Senſleſs Hard-hearted wretch, that cannot wake.]
But as thy Wiſdom gives in fitteſt meaſure;
Not all at once: It's meet we wait thy leiſure.
… thought that things unſeen ſhould pierce and melt,
With as great Paſſion as things ſeen and felt.
But now I find it is their proper part,
To be moſt valu'd, to be next the Heart;
To be the higheſt Intereſt of the ſoul;
There to command, and all things elſe controul.
Thus muſt the little ſpark of fire be blown,
Or elſe it will not flame, nor ſcarce be known;
New-lighted Candles, darkened by the ſnuff,
Are ready to go out with every puff:
So it was long before the heav'nly ſpark
Conquered my ſnuff, and ſhined in the dark:
My feeble new-born ſoul began with crying:
My Infant-life did ſeem to be ſtill dying:
Betwixt ſupporting Hope, and ſinking Fears,
My doubting ſoul did languiſh many years.
O my dear God! how precious is thy Love?
Thy troubling Motions tend to Reſt above.
Thus GRACE like NATURE entereth in a ſeed;
Which with man's labour, heav'nly dews muſt feed:
Whoſe Virtue and firſt Motions no eye ſees;
But after comes to ripeneſs by degrees:
Our Father's tender Love doth much appear,
When he with uſeleſs crying Babes can bear:
When we the Houſhold's grief and trouble are;
He ſhews the more his patient nurſing care.
At firſt I wiſht that I could pray and weep:
Thus when I could not go, I learn'd to creep:
Then thou beganſt to looſe my Infant tongue;
And taught'ſt me Abba, Father, when but young
Firſt by the Book, and ſome unworded groans;
After by heart-indited words and moans.
Thy dyet firſt was Milk, then ſtronger food:
But alwaies that which wholſom was and good.
Though Preachers were too often dry and dull,
Thy holy Word was quick and powerful:
The many precious Books of holy men,
Thy Spirit uſed on me as his Pen:
Perkins, Sibbs, Bolton, Whateley, holy Dod,
Hilderſham, Preſton, other men of God,
How pertinently ſpake they to my caſe?
They open'd Heav'n and Hell before my face:
They did unfold the Goſpel-Myſteries,
And ſet Chriſt crucified before my eyes:
They ſhamed ſin; they ſhewed me the ſnare;
Opened the danger; charg'd me to beware.
In every duty they did me direct;
Told me the ſin, and danger of neglect:
They ſearch'd my heart; help'd me to try my ſtate
My earthly Mind they help'd to elevate:
What ſtrong & quickening motives did they bring
To raiſe my heart, and winde the ſlackned ſpring
Theſe happy Counſellors wero ſtill at hand;
The Maps, and Landskips of the Holy Land.
This food was not lockt from me; but I could
Go read a holy Sermon when I would.
How cheaply kept I many Rare Divines?
And for a little purchas'd Golden Mines?
My griefs they eas'd; my many doubts reſolv'd;
With great delight I daily then revolv'd:
O my dear God! how precious is thy Love?
Are theſe thy Candles? What's the Sun above?
At laſt my Fears became my greateſt Faar,
Leſt that my whole Religion ſhould lie there:
No man hath more of Holineſs than Love:
Which doth free ſouls by complacency move
Common Grace goes as far as Fear alone:
This eateth not the meat, but gnaws the bone.
A ſlaviſh fear deſireth leave to ſin:
It doth but tie the hands, and waſh the skin.
Hypocrites act a forc't affected part:
Where Love is abſent, God hath not the heart.
He'l not accept what's done againſt mens will,
That if they durſt, had rather have done ill.
Oh my dear God! ſhall not my Heart be thine?
Then I ſhall wiſh it never had been mine.
Objects of Senſe do ſooneſt move the Paſſion:
But ſure Thou haſt my higheſt Eſtimation;
My Will's Reſolved Choice is to be Thine:
My Soul and Body I to Thee reſign:
To Thee the motions of my Soul do bend:
Thou art the Scope to which my Life doth tend.
The Motions of the higher Faculties,
The Ruling Powers are chiefeſt in thine eyes:
Thou tak'ſt the Love and Homage which they pay;
Though Rebel Paſſion doth not them obey,
What makes me laugh moſt, makes me not moſt glad
What made me weep moſt, made me not moſt ſad:
My Love to one choice friend hath oft more paſſion,
Than my much greater Love to Church & Nation.
O had I all my Powers at command!
As readily as tongue, or foot, or hand!
My eyes ſhould empty firſt the ſerous ſtore,
Becauſe I love ſo good a God no more:
And next ſome of the florid Blood ſhould ſpend,
Becauſe the God of Love I did offend.
The reſt ſhould ſerve for Oil unto Love's Fire,
Waſting in reſtleſs vehement Deſire:
At every mention of thy Bleſſed Name,
My raviſht Soul ſhould mount up in Love's flame:
Each Sermon ſhould Elias Chariot be,
To carry up my longing heart to Thee.
The Saints Aſſemblies I would make more bright,
Where many Heav'n-aſpiring flames unite.
And when my Lord's Love-ſufferings I read,
My pierced and Love-wounded heart ſhould bleed.
Love ſhould enforce each word when I do pray;
A Flaming Heart I'd on thy Altar lay:
When halving Hypocrites give Thee a part,
Love ſhould preſent my Whole, though Broken heart.
When in thy Word I read Love's Myſteries;
There I would ſweetly feed my greedy eyes.
Each Sacrament ſhould be an Euchariſt:
There Heart with Heart, & Love with Love ſhould twiſt.
My friends and I would in our daily walk
Of Love's Delights and Entertainments talk:
My working Love ſhould others Love excite:
In Love I'd be a Burning Shining Light.
Love through the Lanthorn of my fleſh ſhould ſhine:
Who heard me ſpeak, ſhould hear that I am Thine:
Remembring that in Love I muſt be made
Equal to Angels; I would learn their Trade:
Yea I would reach up to a higher ſhelf;
And as my Copy, look to Chriſt himſelf:
Love's work I'd do with all my diligence,Mar. 3. 20. 21.
Though men ſhould think I were beſide my ſenſe.2. Cor. 5. 13.
My daily Love ſhould riſe before the Sun,
And it in ſpeed and conſtancy out run:
Love as my Life ſhould fill up all my daies;
Deſire ſhould be my Pulſe; my Breath thy Praiſe.
And I would winde up all the ſtrings as high,
As Bleſſed Paul was in his Extaſie.
Heav'nly Love ſhould all my words indite,
And be the ſoul and ſenſe of all I write:
My heart of Love's Delights ſhould ſweetly think,
I'd write with flaming fire inſtead of Ink:
And yet thy holy Day ſhould be my Beſt,
In it my thirſty Soul ſhould taſt of Reſt;
My daily food ſhould increaſe to a Feaſt.
O my Dear God! how precious is thy Love?
O could I mount thus to the Flames above?
Theſe are Love's pantings after thee, my God!
Though, with my Soul, impriſon'd in a clod!
☞ My Soul and Love ſhall ſhortly be ſet free;
And then my Soul, my Love ſhall feaſt on Thee.
If thou wouldſt grant the very thing I crave,
And give me leave to chuſe what I would have;
Should it be luſts, or Sports, or Fleſhly pleaſure?
Sould it be Lordly Rule, or Earthly Treaſure?
No; I could gladly leave this Dirt to Swine,
And let the World be theirs, if Thou be mine!
I would not thirſt to taſt of their Delight.
If lively Faith might ſee the bleſſed Sight!
I would not be ambitious of a Throne!
I could have full content in God alone.
For mens Eſteem and Praiſe I would not care:
All other Wit and Knowledge I could ſpare:
To Know and Love my God ſhould be my choice:
Give me but This, and how ſhall I rejoyce?
Under my hand, Lord, This is it I chooſe:
O give me this, whatever elſe I loſe!
Is there no ſpark of Love in this Deſire?
When a poor Soul doth unto Thee aſpire?
To Know and Love thee is my thirſt and ſtrife:
Nothing more makes me weary of my life,
Than that I feel no more the heav'nly Fire,
But look and reach, and yet can reach no higher.
Here lyes my pain! This is my daily ſore:
… hate my Heart for loving God no more.
Do I not Love Thee, when I Love to Love Thee?
And when I ſet up nothing elſe above Thee?
Next GOD himſelf, who is my END & REST,
Love which ſtands next Thee, I eſteem my Beſt,
And Loving God ſhall be my Endleſs Feaſt.
O my Dear God! how precious is thy Love?
Theſe are thy Earneſts of the Life above.
Fear is to Love, as was the Law to Grace:
And as John Baptiſt goes before Chriſt's face,
Preaching Repentance: it prepares his way:
It is the firſt appearing of the Day:
The dawning Light which comes before the Sun:
As he that to Chriſt's Scpulchre firſt run,
Excites the LOV'D Diſciple to do better;
The certain news of Life comes by the later.
Fear is Love's Harbinger: It is the womb,
Where Love doth breed till time of ripeneſs come!
No wonder if it be not ſeen till then:
The Seed and Embrio are hid from men.
Though Thou com'ſt in by Love, Fear draws the latch:
Fear makes the motion, tho Love makes the match:
Fear is the ſoil that cheriſheth the feed;
The Nurſery in which Heav'ns Plants do breed.
God firſt in Nature finds Self-Love, and there
He takes advantage to implant his Fear.
With ſome the time is long before the Earth
Diſcloſe her young one by a ſpringy Birth:
When Heav'n doth make our Winter ſharp & long,
The ſeed of Love lies hid, or ſeems but young:
But when God makes it Spring-time, his approach
Takes from the barren Soul its great reproach;
When Heav'ns reviving Smiles and Raies appear,
Then Love begins to ſpring up above Fear:
And if ſin hinder not by curſed ſhade,
It quickly ſhoots up to a youthful blade:
And when Heav'ns warmer beams & dews ſucceed,
That's ripened fruit which even now was but ſeed:
Yet doth not flowring, fruitful Love forget
Her Nurſing Fear; there ſtill her Root is ſet:
In Humble Self-denyal under-trod,
While Flower and Fruit are growing up to God
After Love's Birth-Day, holy Fear and Care
The outward Part of the New-creature are.
As mortal man conſiſts of Fleſh and Soul,
So Fear and Love, on Earth, do make one Whole.
Love, as the Soul, unſeen, yet bears the ſway:
Fear, as the Fleſh, more felt, muſt it obey.
By Fear, Love doth the daring Fleſh reſtrain,
And keepeth men awake by threatned pain.
This frame is mortal: Not that Love can dye;
But leaving Fears, will dwell alone on high:
Yet will retain a Reverent Fear of God;
But not the terrour of his Wrath or Rod.
O my Dear God! how precious is thy Love?
How wiſe thy Methods to the Life above?
Thou firſt appear'dſt in Lightning, as to Paul:
My heat abated, at thy feet I fall.
The voice with which thy Call thou didſt begin,
Was to convince me, and reprove my ſin:
I firſt enquired of thee, who thou art?
And then, what duty thou hadſt made my part?
Thus Fear and Care began; but the ſweet Name
Of Jeſus did reviving Hope proclaim.
And though long time it ſcarcely did appear,
Yet ſure ſome hidden ſpark of Love was there.
I lov'd thy Holy Word; Good Books were ſweet,
Thoſe that did with my own condition meet:
Heart-ſearching Miniſters were my delight, ☞
Thoſe that did moſt my drowſie Soul excite.
I dearly loved all in whom I ſaw
A Love to Thee, and Care to keep thy Law:
The ſpeech and ſight of Holy men was ſweet;
I honour'd them, and could have kiſt their feet.
I felt their living words go to the quick,
When common idle prating made me ſick.
I dearly lov'd my ſerious boſom friend,
Who did in Love my failings reprehend;
That could my doubting troubled mind condole,
And help to keep awake my ſleepy Soul:
Who could unfold the Myſteries of Grace,
And ſpeak particularly to my caſe;
Sweetly diſcloſing his experience;
Extolling Mercy from his own deep ſenſe;
One that had been inſtructed by the Rod,
And boiled over in the Praiſe of God:
Who early (and oft in the night) would riſe,
To offer Thee a Thankful Sacrifice:
Who warm'd me with his Zeal when I was cold;
And my remiſsneſs lovingly controul'd;
Who ſtirr'd me up, and taught me how to pray;
And friendly watcht and warn'd me every day.
And yet his Piety did not exceed
His Charity, to thoſe that were in need.
For ſuch a friend I had; though after all,
Himſelf became my warning by his fall;
As more than One or Two have done ſince then;
Shewing, when Grace withdraws, we are but Men.
O my Dear God! how precious is thy Love?
Theſe are the ſeeds: what are the fruits above?
Yet did I ſcarce diſcern that it was Thee,
Whom in the Glaſs my pleaſed Mind did ſee:
But though thine Image more incur my ſenſe,
I love it for the pourtrayd excellence:
It's not becauſe the Workmanſhip is fine,
But Good and Holy; and becauſe it's Thine.
I better know the Map that's in my hand:
But yet, by it, I better Love the Land.
Sure when I lov'd thy Books, and every letter;
I lov'd the Senſe, and End, and Author better.
He loveth Wiſdom ſure, who loves the Wiſe:
It's like he loves the Light, who loves his Eyes.
If one in Priſon had his life begun,
Where he had never ſeen the ſhining Sun;
Yet if he dearly love the Candle-light,
He'd urely love the Sun, which is more bright.
Or if the Sun had alwaies clouded been,
And men its ſcattered Light alone had ſeen;
…'s true, our Thoughts and Love of that we ſee,
Would more exact and ſatisfying be:
But to the unſeen Cauſe, as it is Better,
Our Love of Eſtimation would be Greater.
And even a Knowledge general and dark,
Would be the Chooſer of our End and Mark.
That Love's moſt ſenſible, which Senſe doth breed;
But that Commands, which Faith and Reaſon feed:
The Country than the Map, I muſt confeſs, ☞
…s much leſs known; but is not known as leſs.
A Creat and Certain Object ſhould do more,
Though darkly known, than trifles at my door:
An Unſeen Kingdom would with men prevail,
To leave their Native place, and hoiſe up ſail,
And venture over ſtormy boiſterous Seas:
Wch ſhews that great things, tho unſeen, moſt pleaſe.
No wonder if the Knowledge be moſt clear,
Or little things which to the ſenſe are near;
Theſe narrow parcels we can comprehend,
When unſeen Greatneſs, doth the mind tranſcend:
But yet This moves the Wheels, and is the Spring,
Before the neareſt ſight of ſome ſmall thing.
That is moſt Loved, which I make my End;
To which my great deſigns and actions tend;
For which I can all other Treaſure ſpend,
Although I do it darkly apprehend.
O my Dear God! how precious is thy Love?
Unveiled fully to thy Saints above?
As fire firſt kindleth on the neareſt Wood,
My ſenſe thus fixed on the neareſt good:
And where ſenſe fixed, there with greateſt ſenſe
The mind did exerciſe its Complacence.
It ſeem'd more cold to that which diſtant was;
Yet ſtill looks further as I forward paſs:
And towards my End, the nearer Heav'n I go,
My Love abſtracteth more from things below.
Love ſeemeth to get ground, and Fear decaies;
Doubting & Grief give place to Thanks & Praiſ…
And tho Fear wrought with greateſt ſenſe before,
And was in bulk and violence much more;
Yet the leaſt ſpark of Love which is ſincere,
Will ſave the Soul, tho mixt with greater Fear:
Who loves God ſomewhat, & the world above him
Loving not God as God, he doth not love him:
Love muſt be ſo far tryed by the meaſure,
That God be Lov'd above all earthly Treaſure:
But that ſuppos'd the leaſt degree of Love,
With greater Doubts and Fears will ſaving prove
Great Bodies with ſmall ſouls are animate:
Great Heads with little Eyes, are oculate.
Small Candles lighten Rooms that are more large
A Steward may have ſpacious Lands in charge.
The Kingdom may be bigger than the King:
The Diamond may be ſmaller than the Ring:
The Houſe may bigger than the dweller be:
Great Fear and little Love, conſiſtent be.
But ſtill true Love to God and Man are known,
More by the Fruits, than by the Senſe alone.
… muſt be ſuch a Love, as when there's need,
Will venture, ſuffer, viſit, cloath and feed.
… my Dear God! how precious is thy Love?
Which gently leads us to the Joyes above?
Love ſtill went on, and lined out my way,
Hedging me in, leſt I ſhould go aſtray:
Yet after this how oft did I tranſgreſs?
By light diſcourſe, and wanton play fulneſs;
…ating to fulneſs: Yea, even Cards and Dice,
Began my mind with pleaſure to entice.
But Providence did quickly interpoſe,
And by a wonder take me off from thoſe.
Sin moſt enſnar'd by pleading lawfulneſs;
Though Conſcience often did the ſin confeſs:
That wounded deepeſt which by ſeeming ſmall,
Drew me to venture, and reſiſt thy Call;
And knowingly the ſame oft to commit,
Thinking all Chriſtians had as great as it.
Let all that would not be undone by ſin,
Fly the occaſions where it doth begin.
At firſt it's ſafe and pleaſant to reſiſt.
But O how doleful is it to perſiſt?
Sin doth not open its deſign at firſt:
Its firſt appearance ſheweth not the worſt:
Flattering the ſenſe, it ſeems to be a friend;
But it proves pain and poiſon in the end.
Pray from Temptation that you may be free,
If from the evil you would ſaved be.
Repentance muſt convince you that it's gall,
Which firſt appeared innocent or ſmall.
O how it fills the Soul with guilty fears!
Our filial Evidences blaſts and tears?
Diſturbs our Peace, and feeds the gnawing Worm
Turns our Tranquility into a ſtorm?
It puts a piercing ſting into the Croſs,
And makes Death dreadful as the greateſt loſs.
Yet all my folly Mercy did forgive,
And did my guilty wounded ſoul relieve.
O my Dear God! how precious is thy Love?
Heal me, and fit me for the Joyes above.
Thy Love in order to its well known Ends,
Shew'd me great mercy in meet Guides & Friends:
Antient and grave Divines, ſolid and ſtaid,
Who from Experience both preach'd and pray'd:
Learned, yet counting Chriſtianity
The chiefeſt Learning and Philoſophy.
Theſe as the Fathers of my untaught Youth,
Were willing to communicate the Truth.
Their help and fruitful converſe was my ſtay,
And great encouragement in all my way;
More pleaſant to me than my youthful games:
My love doth grudgingly ſuppreſs their names.
The company thou gav'ſt me was not vain,
…ot proud or factious, ſenſual or prophane:
…t ſerious, ſober, and obedient,
Thoſe time was in their peaceful labours ſpent:
…umble and meek, who made it their diſcourſe,
…o ſtir up Faith, and penitent remorſe.
…inding the Loweſt, and the Higheſt things;
…ot medling buſily with States and Kings.
Making thy holy Word their chief delight,
…nd meditating in it day and night:
…ending thy day in works of holineſs;
…ating prophaneneſs, lewdneſs and exceſs:
Content with little, yet aſpiring high;
…paring no pains for immortality:
Low in the world; but for ſalvation wiſe;
Though ſcorn'd by faithleſs fools as too preciſe.
O my Dear God! how precious is thy Love?
Such thou wilt take to dwell with Thee above.
Thy Mercy did my younger Studies guide:
Sweet leiſure and meet Books thou didſt provide;
And that I might thy Love the better ſee,
My Tutor thou thy ſelf waſt pleas'd to be:
As Honey-combs are made by patient Bees,
Who fetch the matter home by ſlow degrees,
In many daies, and from a thouſand Flowers,
Not perfecting their work in a few hours:
So taughtſt thou me to wait the Learning time,
Not reaching firſt at matters too ſublime;
Few to maturity of Knowledge grow,
Who think they know, before indeed they know.
Thou didſt improve the thirſty love of Truth,
Which thou hadſt given me even in my youth.
My Labours thou mad'ſt eaſie by delight:
Each daies ſucceſs, did to the next invite.
But O the happy Method of thy Grace!
Which gave my own Salvation the firſt place!
And firſt reſolv'd me of the utmoſt end,
Which all my after Studies muſt intend:
Shewing me firſt, Why, and For What I muſt
Lay out my Studies, that they be not loſt:
Unhappy men! who follow baſe deſigns,
And are not Chriſtians, when they are Divines!
O that an Impious Divine were rare!
Although the terms a contradiction are.
Alas in what a blind or trembling State,
Should I all day have at my Studies ſate,
And with how little joy, or hope of gains,
If I had ſtudy'd ſtill in Satan's chains?
O fooliſh Studies! to conſider how
The Earth is fixed, and the Plants do grow?
What is each creatures ſpecifying cauſe?
And what are all their Orders and their Laws?
When thy own ſaving Change is to begin!
And thou haſt yet no pardon of thy ſin?
When all the while thou art a Son of Wrath,
Who to Eternal Life no title hath?
When in thy flow'ring Studies thou may'ſt dye,
And be undone to all Eternity?
Who would be playing at a childiſh game,
While his own Houſe is in a burning flame?
What if I knew whether the Earth or Sun
So ſwift and unperceiv'd a courſe doth run?
Or knew the courſe and order of the ſphears?
Or were beſt skill'd in numbering paſt years?
Knew all the Houſes of the ſtarry Sky?
And things that are for common wits too high?
What if I knew all theſe never ſo well?
And knew not how to ſcape the flames of Hell?
What gain or pleaſure would my knowledge be?
If I the face of God muſt never ſee?
Or what if I could fool away my time,
In ſmooth and well compoſed idle Rhyme?
Or dreaming Lovers Fancies could rehearſe,
In the moſt lofty and adorned verſe?
While my unholy Soul, in fleſhly thrall,
Should be lamenting its own Funeral?
But when my Soul had fixt on God her End,
Then all my Studies unto him did tend.
They all were ordered in due place and ſeaſon,
Guided by Faith, allowed by ſound Reaſon:
Thou taughtſt me firſt the Only Needful Thing;
And all my Studies harp'd ſtill on that ſtring:
Judging the greateſt Knowledge to be vain,
Which tendeth not to the Immortal gain.
There is a Knowledge which increaſeth ſorrow,
And ſuch whoſe fruit will die before to morrow:
Yea, there's a knowledge which occaſions ſin:
Deſire of Knowing did Man's woe begin:
All means are to be judg'd of by their End:
That's good wch doth good, or doth good portend
Its End and Objects which ennoble acts:
Thoſe that do glorious things are glorious facts.
Who calls a ſelf-condemning ſinner, Wiſe,
That on a ſyllable can criticize;
That can in mode and figure talk in vain;
Or learnedly his pride and ſin maintain?
That's beſt at the reſolving of a Riddle,
Or playing on a Bag-pipe, or a Fiddle:
But hath not learned how to Live and Die,
Nor where his Soul muſt dwell eternally?
God and all wiſe men judge him but a fool,
Who is not wiſe enough to ſave his Soul.
When Heav'n's made ſure, all Knowledge then is good
For Faith and Love can turn it into food:
It's pleaſant then to ſtudy any Book,
When we ſee GOD the ſenſe, where ere we look:
When as the way to Heav'n we know each place:
And ſee God's beauty in each creature's face:
And when we ſtick not in the form and letter,
But all our Knowledge tends to make us better.
When ſtill the more we Know, the more we Love,
And draw more with us to the Joys above.
Fine Fancies are not like clear minds; nor thoſe
Like Love, by which the Soul with God doth cloſe.
Wiſdom it ſelf will make the Mind moſt wiſe.
He that aſcends to God, doth Higheſt riſe.
Sure Piſgah was Parnaſſus, or the Mount,
Where three Apoſtles did three Glories count:
Chriſt's living ſtreams are the true Helicon:
None make true Poets but Heav'ns ſprings alone.
What poor, low, toyiſh work make frothy wits?
Like Bacchus Scholars in their Pot-wiſe fits.
Like Childrens Poppets dreſt with Lace and Pin;
Like handſom Pictures; ſomething wants within:
A painted Feaſt, carv'd with a painted Knife:
A Living Soul can feel it wanteth Life.
Without a Holy Subject, End and Spirit,
True Wiſdom's ſacred Titles none can merit.
O my Dear God! how precious is thy Love?
Theſe are the drops; what are the ſtreams above?
Immortal thanks my Soul doth owe my God,
For his well-order'd needful healing Rod:
The Book and Rod do well befit thy School;
Correction is the portion of the Fool:
The Rod it ſelf will make the Sluggard riſe:
The Rod and Book make fooliſh Children wiſe.
I felt or fear'd no evil at the firſt,
But my Soul's miſery, which is the worſt:
Whilſt for a Soul-remedy I did look,
Thy angry ſtorm my Body overtook:
Languiſhing weakneſs ſhortens ſtrength & breath;
Conſumes my fleſh, and threatens ſpeedy death:
And what I felt reviv'd the fears of more:
For now my Judgment ſeemed at the door:
I knew not but it might be a foretaſt
Of greater woe which I might feel at laſt:
My new awaken'd Soul amazed was,
To think that unto Judgment it muſt paſs,
And ſee the unſeen World; and ſtand before
The dreadful God, whom Heav'n & Earth adore!
I was unready to behold thy face,
Having no more aſſurance of thy Grace!
Having but lately too familiar been,
With my ſeducing fleſh and hateful ſin:
My Thoughts of Thee were terrible and ſtrange!
And of ſo great and an untimely change!
The threatned Ruine I did thus condole;
O muſt my ſcarce-born, unprepared Soul
Before my dreadful Judge ſo ſoon appear!
And the deciſive final Sentence hear!
And all my Reckonings ſo ſoon bring in!
And give account to God for every ſin!
Before I do my Soul's condition know,
Or any ſcaled Pardon have to ſhew.
What if I prove an unconverted Wretch?
And Juſtice ſhould my Soul to torments fetch?
How know I but the endleſs flames of Hell,
May be the place where next my Soul ſhall dwell?
Mercy would ſave me; but I did reject it:
Chriſt's Blood would cleanſe it; but I did neglect it.
And though I am not hopeleſs, who can bear
To die uncertain under ſo great fear I:
O that my Tunes had all been better ſpent!
And that my ca…y Thoughts had all been bent
In preparation for the Life to come:
That now I might have gone as to my home!
And taken up my dwelling with the bleſt!
And paſt to everlaſting Joy and Reſt!
O that the pleaſures of my ſports and toyes,
Had all been turn'd to man-like holy Joyes!
And thoſe Delights which Vanities engroſt,
And ſpent on fleſhly Luſts, were worſe than loſt,
Had all been ſweet Rejoycings in the Lord!
And in his holy Service and his Word!
O that I could my waſted Time call back,
Which now my Soul for greater works doth lack;
What would I give now for thoſe precious daies,
Which once run out in pleaſures and delaies?
O had I liv'd a ſtrict and holy Life,
Though under hatred and malicious ſtrife!
Though Men's and Devil's fury I had born,
And been the world's reproach, contempt & ſcorn!
Then welcome Death would but have quencht my thirſt,
And bid the envious world now do their worſt.
Their malice would but to my Joyes accrew,
And well-ſpent Time be ſweet to my review.
O happy men whoſe portion is above!
Whoſe hearts to God and to his Service clove!
Who made him and his Word their chief delight,
And walkt in uprightneſs, as in his ſight!
Approv'd their Hearts and Waies to him alone!
As ready to appear before his Throne!
Now I had rather far be one of them,
Than one of worldly Wealth, or Princely Stem
O now my undreſt Soul is paſſing forth,
I ſee both what the World and Chriſt are worth.
Thus did the face of Death my Soul awake;
The bonds of dead ſtupidity it brake!
Strict, holy Truth I eaſily confeſt:
I ſaw that Godlineſs is not a jeſt.
My late beſotted mind is now paſt doubt,
That Folly's careleſs, Wiſdom is devout:
I ſaw more clearly than I did before,
What lies on an ungodly Sinners ſcore?
For what man's pow'rs were made, what is their uſe▪
To what all means and mercies do conduce?
What is man's buſineſs while he's here below?
How much his creatures to their Maker owe?
Whether the Saint or Brute be in the right?
Whether it's beſt to live by Faith or Sight?
What is true Wit? what Learning's moſt ſublime?
How I and all ſhould value precious Time?
I ſaw it's not a thing indifferent,
Whether my Soul to Heav'n or Hell be ſent.
Death alſo further taught me how to pray,
And made me cry unto thee every day;
It ſet me on the trying of my ſtate,
Leſt I ſhould prove deceiv'd when 'twas too late.
Often and carefully I ſearcht my heart,
Whether in Chriſt by Faith I had a part?
It ſhew'd me ſo much work to do at home,
That alien needleſs matters found ſmall room.
It curb'd my Pride, and buryed my Ambition;
Made me, not only bear a low condition,
But chuſe it; and all things to eſtimate,
As God, my Soul, and Heav'n ſhould ſet the rate.
For now, as clearly as I ſaw the Sun,
I ſaw in lines which they may read that run,
That Endleſs things are All, when we compare,
And tranſitory trifles Nothing are:
That Worldlings in their ſleep do talk and go,
And all their lives are but a dreaming ſhew:
Only the true Believer lives awake,
And doth not ſpend his daies in meer miſtake:
That all who are not Saints, are worſe than Brutes.
Theſe, O my Father! were thy Rod's firſt-fruits.
O my Dear God! how precious is thy Love?
Thus we rebound up to the Joyes above.
Long thus before my God I lay proſtrate,
Begging for healing mercy at his gate!
And for ſome longer time, to know his Truth,
And not unripe to wither in my Youth!
I begg'd that haſty Death he would delay,
And would not ſnatch me unprepar'd away.
I promiſed his mercies to rehearſe,
If he the dreadful Sentence would reverſe.
Could I have hop'd for Hezekiah's years,
I ſhould no more than he, have ſpared tears.
Yet hath thy Mercy granted me ſince then,
More than thrice five, yea more than four times ten
My moan thou pity'dſt, and my cryes didſt hear
Delaying Death; not taking off my fear:
The threatning malady thou didſt abate;
And into many others didſt tranſlate;
Which gave me hope of ſome preparing ſpace;
But none that Earth would prove a Reſting place.
Appointing me to ſerve in gentle Chains,
In wholſom ſickneſs, and in healing pains!
So great as might my head-ſtrong thoughts reſtrain
From running after things terrene and vain:
Yet were they not ſo great as to make leſs,
My Service, or my ſober chearfulneſs:
O what a happy mixture didſt thou make!
How meet a courſe did thy wiſe Mercy take?
This was the pregnant bleſſing, kept for ſtore,
Which multiply'd into a thouſand more!
Which hath run parallel with all my daies;
For which I owe thee everlaſting praiſe:
Too great for Volumes; too high for a Verſe:
And therefore endleſs Life muſt them rehearſe.
1.
A Life ſtill near to Death, did me poſſeſs
With a deep ſenſe of Time's great preciouſneſs.
To loſe an hour I thought a greater loſs,
Than much of ſordid worldlings golden droſs.
I thought them mad that caſt their time away,
Being uncertain of another day.
That idly prate, and play, and feaſt, and drink,
So near Eternity's moſt dreadful brink!
With filthy, guilty Souls, unjuſtifi'd;
Undone for evermore if thus they dy'd.
O! thought I, where is theſe men's brains and ſenſe,
Who care no more whither they go from hence?
Paſtime I thought worſe than a Bediam word:
The Name and Thing my very Soul abhorr'd.
2.
This methodiz'd my Studies to my gain;
Sham'd the contending, jingling, formal vein:
The greateſt matters it did firſt impoſe:
Neceſſity my Book and Leſſon choſe:
I ſtudy'd firſt to ſave my ſelf and others;
What edifi'd my own Soul and my Brothers:
Thence to the Branches I in order clime;
Firſt Few and Great, next Many, Small, Sublime.
I nere preferr'd to Talk, before, to Eat,
Words, before Things, the Diſh before the Meat:
And yet I love and value all the reſt:
My curious mind would fain have known the leaſt:
But knowing Life's too ſhort to reach to all,
I left till laſt the needleſs things and ſmall.
3.
The frequent ſight of Death's moſt awful face,
Rebuk'd my ſloth, and bid me mend my pace!
Thou knew'ſt my dulneſs needed ſuch a ſpur;
So prone was I to trifle and demur.
Who dare his Soul for gain or pleaſure ſell,
That lives as in the ſight of Heav'n and Hell?
4. This call'd me out to work while it was day;
And warn poor Souls to Turn without delay:
Reſolving ſpeedily thy Word to Preach;
With Ambroſe, I at once did Learn and Teach.
Still thinking I had little time to live,
My fervent heart to win mens Souls did ſtrive.
I Preach'd, as never ſure to Preach again,
And as a dying man to dying men!
O how ſhould Preachers Men's Repenting crave,
Who ſee how near the Church is to the Grave?
And ſee that while we Preach and Hear, we Die,
Rapt by ſwift Time to vaſt Eternity!
What Statues, or what Hypocrites are they,
Who between ſleep and wake do Preach & Pray?
As if they feared wakening the Dead!
Or were but lighting ſinners to their Bed!
Who ſpeak of Heav'n and Hell as on a Stage!
And make the Pulpit but a Parrot's Cage?
Who teach as men that care not much who learns;
And Preach in jeſt to men that ſin in earns.
Surely God's Meſſenger, if any man,
Should ſpeak with all the ſeriouſneſs he can;
Who treateth in the Name of the Moſt High,
About the Matters of Eternity!
Who muſt prevail with ſinners Now or Never,
As thoſe that muſt be ſaved Now, if Ever:
When ſinners endleſs Joy or Miſery,
On the ſucceſs of his endeavours lie!
Though God be free, he works by Inſtruments,
And wiſely fitteth them to his intents.
A proud unhumbled Preacher is unmeet
To lay proud ſinners humbled at Chriſt's feet:
So are the Blind to tell men what God ſaith,
And faithleſs men to propagate the Faith.
The Dead are unfit means to raiſe the Dead;
And Enemies to give the Children Bread:
And utter ſtrangers to the Life to come,
Are not the beſt Conductors to our home:
They that yet never learn'd to Live and Die,
Will ſcarcely teach it others feelingly:
Or if they ſhould Preach others to Salvation,
Unhappy men that Preach their own Damnation.
How oft did I come down with ſhame and grief!
Not that I was ſo homely, or ſo brief;
But that my own Soul was no more awake,
And felt no more the things of which I ſpake!
That God was nam'd with no more Reverence;
Nor ſinners pitty'd with a deeper ſenſe:
That cloſer warnings did not pierce men's Ears,
Set home by greater fervency and tears:
And that my ſpeeches were ſo cold and ſleight,
About things of unutterable weight;
And that I ſpake with no more ſeriouſneſs,
When Heav'n or Hell attended the ſucceſs:
As one that ſees by Faith the Joyes and Woes,
To which the godly and the wicked goes.
O my Dear God! how precious is thy Love?
How ſhould we prize and ſeek the Joyes above?
Thy Methods croſt my waies: my young deſire
To Academick Glory did aſpire:
Fain I'd have ſate in ſuch a Nurſes Lap,
Where I might long have had a ſluggard's nap
Or have been dandled on her Reverend Knees;
And known by honour'd Titles and Degrees;
And there have ſpent the flower of my daies,
In ſoaring in the Air of humane praiſe:
Yea and I thought it needful to thy Ends,
To make the prejudiced world my friends;
That ſo my praiſe might go before thy grace,
Preparing men the Meſſage to embrace;
Alſo my work and Office to adorn,
And to avoid prophane contempt and ſcorn.
But theſe were not thy thoughts; thou didſt foreſee
That ſuch a courſe would not be beſt for me:
Thou mad'ſt me know that mens contempt & ſcorn
Is ſuch a Croſs as muſt be daily born:
Thy Mercy would not have me ſplendid droſs;
A Miniſter of Pomp; but of the Croſs:
That Croſs which Hypocrites may Preach & Hear,
But all that follow Chriſt muſt alſo bear.
No Honour muſt I have to bring to thee,
But what thou firſt communicat'ſt to me
In founding of thy Church, thou didſt declare
How well all worldly Honours thou couldſt ſpare!
Both in the Chief moſt bleſſed Corner Stone,
And in the moſt of thoſe that built thereon:
And what great ſwelling Names have done ſince then,
Church-Rents and Ruines write without a Pen:
High Titles as the firſt inchanting Cup,
Caſt down the Church by lifting of it up.
Titles reflect on Minds. Theſe muſt be low:
By humble Love all muſt thy Servants know:
Yet I deny not but a perfect mind,
May more advantage here than danger find:
Thy Soil is oft manured by ſuch dung.
I'le Honour give to whom it doth belong:
It may be ſafe to others; but to me
'Twas beſt from ſuch Temptations to be free:
Let my preferment lye in ſerving all:
While I ſit low, I have not far to fall.
Keep me from the Temptations of the Devil!
For ſo thou doſt deliver us from Evil.
My youthful Pride and Folly now I ſee,
That grudg'd for want of Titles and Degree.
That bluſh'd with ſhame when this defect was known,
And an inglorious Name could hardly own,
Attempting to have hid it twice or thrice,
With vile equivocations next to lies.
And to thy Methods was unreconcil'd,
Becauſe I was not Rabbi, Doctor, ſtyl'd.
Forgive this Pride; and break the Serpent's brain;
Pluck up the poiſonous Root, till none remain.
Give me the Wiſdom; I'le not beg the Fame:
Grant me the thing; let others take the name.
Give me the Learning, and it is no harm,
If thou ſhalt place me in the loweſt Form.
Honours are ſhadows, which from ſeekers fly;
But follow after thoſe who them deny.
I brought none with me to thy work; but there
I found more than I eaſily could bear:
Although thou wouldſt not give me what I would,Matth. 20. v. 21.
Thou gaveſt me the promis'd hundred-fold.Matth. 19. v. 29.
O my Dear God! how precious is thy Love?
Thy wayes, not ours, lead to the Joyes above.
The Third Part.
THE wondrous Mercy of my bounteous Lord,
Wch ſent me forth to Preach his ſacred Word.
Prepar'd my way, and call'd me to the place,
Where I muſt firſt proclaim his Saving Grace:
All things thou ſuitedſt fitly to my need,
Giving me freedom, ſeaſon, ground and ſeed:
Poor thirſty Souls, attend with greedy Ear,
Crowding in multitudes thy Word to hear:
Thy Mercy opening ſo wide a door,
Gave ſome firſt-fruits betimes, and hopes of more.
The various places where my Lot did fall,
Were all appointed to me by thy Call.
I never was to any of them brought,
By the Direction of my own forethought:
Much leſs was ever any by me ſought;
And leaſt of all, by price or bargain bought.
I nere found cauſe of one place to repent;
(Although my ſins in all I muſt lament.)
None were foreſeen; yet after ſeen to reaſon,
To be the fitteſt for the work and ſeaſon.
But among all, none did ſo much abound,
With fruitful mercies, as that barren ground,
Where I did make my beſt and longeſt ſtay,
And bore the heat and burden of the day;
Mercies grew thicker there than Summer flowers:
They over-numbered my daies and hours:
There was my deareſt Flock, and ſpecial Charge.
Our hearts in mutual love thou didſt enlarge:
'Twas there that mercy did my Labours bleſs;
With the moſt great and wonderful ſucceſs.
Yet there were Sons of Belial, whoſe rage
Reaſon with Truth and Love could not aſſwage:
Who Lov'd and Hated, juſt as Satan bid them;
Rul'd by the Reins of Luſt by him that rid them:
In ſwiniſh drunkenneſs they drownd their wits:
Moſt furious in their rude tumultuous fits.
As Boars or Stags, at other times more tame;
When luſtful heats their blood and brains inflame;
Fiercely aſſault ſuch as ſtand in their way;
None's ſafe before them till their heats decay:
So doth the love of revellings and ſport,
Poor brutiſh fleſhly ſinners ſo tranſport,
That ragingly they fly in that man's face,
Who doth by ſacred Truth their ſin diſgrace:
And as in Armies Drums and Trumpets ſound,
The frightful cries of wounded men to drownd;
And even the fearful in the furious crowd,
Are carry'd on to death through ſtreams of blood:
So thoſe enſnared Youths, who formerly,
Out of the Rout, retain'd ſome modeſty,
Conjoyned with the Rabble did as they;
The common fury and their luſts obey:
Run with the Herd: Mirth and the Rables noiſe,
Drown Reaſons Plea, and God's reclaiming voice:
Death is forgot: Conſcience cannot be heard:
Hell and Damnation now are little fear'd:
They have their curſe, & their own ſentence paſs:
Away with Jeſus! give us Barr abas!
Away with Preachers, who diſturb our game!
Talk not of Judgment: Let us bear the blame!
Whilſt grieved Preachers can but wiſh & groan,
O that your day of mercy you had known!
O my Dear God! how precious is they Love?
Which looks on ſuch with pity from above?
Now England's horrid Civil Wars began,
When God a ſinful Nation meant to fan.
When ſin grown high & bold, out-fac'd the Light;
When Pride and Faction pleaded Divine Right.
When moſt their Love, & ſome their Patience loſt;
When proud malicious men muſt not be croſt:
When wiſe men ſeemed fools, & fools ſeem'd wiſe;
And when the worſt were beſt in their own eyes?
When Piety with Lazarus was loath'd;
And Sin with Purple and fine Linnen cloath'd:
And when the ſacred Tribe, deſpiſing Souls,
Through love of wealth & honor blow'd the coals!
When Demas for the World deſerted Paul;
And their own matters were firſt ſought by all:
When they that ſought their good things in this life
Had baniſht Love, & fill'd the Church with ſtrife
Where ſtriving factions Charity defy'd,
And carnal Counſels did the Church divide!
When ſwiniſh Gadarens did Chriſt refuſe,
And the prophane his ſervants did abuſe.
When Holineſs the common Foe was deem'd,
And nothing more intollerable ſeem'd.
When holy Truth and Preachers were deſpis'd;
And wicked means to caſt them out devis'd!
When ſin preſum'd to make a mock of grace,
And folly ſpit reproaches in Chriſt's face!
When vulgar rage had found this common vent;
And impious ſcorn on Godlineſs was ſpent:
When ſin was not ſo much oppos'd as God,
Then were we ready for the bloody Rod.
When thoſe ſins reign'd that muſt not now be nam'd
But by Heav'ns Juſtice ſhall at laſt be ſham'd.
When old condemned vanities and crimes,
Became the Reverend Virtues of the Times,
Then God in Judgment ſate to plead his Cauſe,
And judge the proud deſpiſers of his Laws.
Baniſh'd Love doth feaſter'd hearts forſake:
Blindneſs, ſuſpicions, wrath poſſeſſion take:
Each man unto the fire his Fagot brought,
And each againſt another quarrels ſought.
The whirlwind in the North did firſt ariſe,
And raiſe the duſt which troubled Engliſh Eyes.
And though Heav'ns mercy there prevented blood,
The Iriſh fury ſhed a crimſon flood.
The French blood ſhew'd the temper of the Nation,
Their Faith and Faithleſneſs keep Moderation,
Their Bartholomews hot dog-daies thirſt had coſt,
*Thuanus, Davila.Thirty or forty thouſand lives at moſt.
But Ireland's Romiſh Zeal was hotter far,
And in their preparation to a War,
*The Earl of Orery's Anſwer to a Petition.Two hundred thouſand they ſurpriz'd and ſlew,
Not that their Will ſo ſmall a meaſure knew.
But here God checkt their Power, & heard the cries
Of dying Innocents, which pierc'd the Skies:
England affrighted by her neighbours harm,
Threatned to be the next, takes the Allarm,
As Citizens that ſee a raging flame
Threaten the Neighhours houſes with the ſame,
Do leave their Trades, and all together run,
Trying to quench the Fire where it begun;
And then pull down the houſes which adjoyn;
Some ſeek to ſave the goods, ſome to purloin;
The well-built Piles, & curious Rooms muſt down,
To buy the Safety of the fearful Town,
A Neighbour's houſe is uſed like a Foe's,
Becauſe the Fire, the Hook, no diff'rence knows,
Fear pulleth down the next, to ſave the moſt,
And ruines more than needs, leſt all be loſt.
Smoak and confuſed crouds do blind men's eyes,
All are amaz'd, with hideous flames and cryes;
So England, too combuſtible before,
Seeing ſo great a flame ſo near her door,
Was frighted into ſuch Convulſion Fits,
As firſt did break her Peace, and next her Wits.
Dangers breed fears, and fears more dangers bring:
The Bees to ſave their Honey uſe their Sting;
Rowz'd in an angry Swarm they ſeek their Foe,
The next they meet muſt feel the ſmarting blow.
Caetera deſunt, praeſunt, adſunt.
I purpoſed to have recited the moſt notable mercies of my Life, in continuing this Hymn of Thankſgiving to my gracious God; but the quality of the Subject, and the Ages Impatience ſtopt me here, and I could go no further, and my painful and ſpiritleſs Age is now unfit for Poetry: And the matter is ſo large, as would have made the Volume big.