Poetical Fragments, Poem 13
13. Upon the ſight of Mr. VINES His Poſthumous TREATISE OF THE SACRAMENT, October 18. 1656. Who Dyed a little before.
WHile thou grew'ſt here, thy fruit made glad
The hearts that ſin and death made ſad:
Leſt we ſhould ſurfeit of thy fruit,
Thy Life retired to the Root.
Deſiring with us firſt to keep,
A Paſsover before thy ſleep *He dyed ſuddenly on the Lord's Day at night, after he had Preacht and Adminiſtred the Sacrament.;
Weary of Earth, thou took'ſt thine Eaſe,
Paſſing into the Land of Peace:
The threatned Evil we fore-ſee,
But hope to hide our ſelves with Thee.
Though thou art gone, while we muſt fight,
We'l call it Victory, not Flight.
When God hath taken up this VINE,
We thought no more to taſte its Wine,
Till in the Land of Salem's King,
We drink it new, even from the Spring:
But unexpectedly we find,
Some Cluſters which are left behind:
This Mantle from thy Chariot fell;
We know it by the pleaſant ſmell:
Who knows but from this little ſeed,
Some more ſuch fruitful Vines may breed?
The Tree of Death bears precious Fruit,
Though in the Earth it have no Root.
Dear Brother! thou art gone before,
And I a wretch wait at the door!
Sin doth not only keep me thence,
But makes me loth to go from hence:
When Chriſt hath heal'd me of this ſin,
And made me fit; he'l let me in:
Till then, may I but in a Glaſs,
See what you ſee with open face;
Sure it will raiſe my heavy Soul,
And theſe diſtruſtful fears controul!
And make me willing to be gone,
As knowing Whither, and to Whom:
If Time be Nothing, as ſome ſay,
You that were with us yeſterday,
Are with us ſtill; or we with you;
Which is the better of the two.
The Soul imbodied in thoſe lines,
Doth make us ſay, that, This is VINES:
And if our hearts with you could be;
Our Lord would ſay, that there are we.
But as acccording to deſert,
The Heavens have got thy better part;
And left us but ſome of the Wine,
Whil'ſt they have taken up the Vine:
So we look up, and wait, and pray,
And yet ſtill feel, we live in Clay.
Here we are keeping ſin's account,
While ſome ſmall ſparks do upward mount,
Crying [How long, Holy and True!]
Till we are taken up to you.
Thus alſo we muſt follow LOVE *Mr. Anthony Burgeſſe was Miniſter at Lawrence Church: Mr. Love ſucceeded him, and was beheaded by the Remnant of the Long Parliament, which cut off the King, for ſending Money to ſome about the preſent King Mr. Vines ſucceeded him.,
To find our HEAD and LIFE above.
He that is made by the New-Birth,
A BURGESS of the Church on Earth,
And then by Faith can riſe ſo high,
In Divine LOVE to Live and Die,
Shall be tranſlated to your ſoil,
Remov'd from ſin, and fear, and toil;
And from this Houſe of Worms and Moles,
Unto that Element of Souls.
Where every Branch becomes a VINE;
And where theſe Clods like Stars will ſhine:
God is not there known by the Book:
You need not there the Pruning Hook:
There you have Wine without the Preſs;
And God his Praiſe without Diſtreſs.
There we ſhall find our Eyes and Sight,
When we come to our Head and Light.
The Kernel is where you now dwell,
And we here ſtrive about the Shell:
You have the Reconciling Light,
Who are paſt Faith, and live by Sight:
No wonder then if you are One,
When Peace from Earth is almoſt gone:
We croud about a little Spark,
Learnedly ſtriving in the Dark;
Never ſo bold as when moſt Blind;
Run faſteſt when the Truth's behind.
No Hereſies with you are ſown:
There's not a Truth but all will own:
A mixture we get here by rote;
And Errour keeps the major Vote.
There Pride and Faction cannot enter.
There's no Diviſion in the Center.
The Saints there play not Satan's part;
They uſe not any Carnal Art,
Their Righteous Brethren to Defame;
And by untruths to blot their Name.
There you are Comely, and not Black:
Each One hath All, yet None do lack.
What ſin or ſmart can you befall,
Where SELF's put off, and God is All.
Look up and ſee, now VINES is gone;
Are not the Stars the more by One?
No: but One fewer in our ſight;
For we have forfeited his Light.
And ſuch an One, as all do miſs,
Save thoſe whoſe pleaſure darkneſs is.
And who can Number Stars above;
When Saints ſo faſt to Heav'n remove?
If but three ſuch in all our times,
As USHER, GATAKER and VINES,
Were taken hence by fatal ſleep;
Three Nations ſhould conſent to weep.
And if an Age this loſs repair;
The Church will think it very fair.
They ſhine in Glory now to God,
Who ſhin'd and burn'd here to a Clod.
May ſuch a ſinful Worm as I,
Aſpire and aſcend ſo high!
That Kingdom's mine in Hope and Right,
Which you poſſeſs by Love and Sight.
That God, that Chriſt hath loved me,
Whoſe Glory bleſſed VINES doth ſee:
We were both waſhed in one ſtream:
And both enlightned by one beam:
One Garment alſo did us cloath:
At once One Pulpit held us both *Thoſe that ſaw me ſtand in his Pulpit at Lawrence Church between his Leggs, when I Preacht for him, becauſe he could get no other Room in the Church, underſtand this.;
Much more One Church: for we agreed,
Both in One Method, and one Creed.
One Evil we did both condole †See his Letter in the end of my Confeſſion.,
As animated by One Soul:
Methinks where thou art, I ſhould be;
Although the loweſt in degree.
Though thou art gone, and I am here;
Yet is my Paſſing-hour near:
Time is at work both Night and Day,
Even when it ſeemeth to delay:
My Grave and Coffin are at hand:
My Glaſs hath but a little Sand:
Now I am writing; and anon
They'l alſo ſay of me, He's gone.
Then I ſhall ſee the ſhining face,
Which is the Glory of your Place.
But leſt in vain I hope and run,
Lord perfect what thou haſt begun.