Divine Passions Piously and Pathetically Expressed, Book 3

Divine Passions Piously and Pathetically Expressed · Book 3

BREATHINGS After DIVINE AYRE.

The third Booke.

p. 72The fooliſh man hath ſaid in his heart tuſh there is no God.

Pſal. 14. 1.

Deſires of ayde.

MOſt gracious God, and yet a God moſt meeke;

Above the heav'ns, yet ſtoup'ſt to earth below;

Beyond our reatch, yet giv'ſt us leave to ſeek;

paſt our conceit, yet wouldſt have us to know,

To ſeeke and know thee as thou doſt appeare,

But further knowledge is not granted here.

As then we ought not to preſume to pry

Into thoſe ſecrets muſt be yet conceal'd

So thou haſt given us licence, yea a tye,

To ſeeke and know thee as thou art reveal'd;

Oh let me read thee in thy copies then

But ſtay my thoughts where thou haſt ſtay'd thy pen.

Thy largeſt booke is in thy works indented:

Thy leſſer copy in our ſoules ingraven:

Thy ſacred volumes are the Scriptures printed:

Thy ſecret lines are ſent by grace from heaven:

Which ſecret lines Lord center in my breaſt,

Thoſe are the keyes to open all the reſt.

I do confeſſe that I am much unfit

To pry into thy Myſteries Divine;

Beſides the ſtarres will not of ſparks admit

To zoare into thoſe circles where they ſhine;

Though thou the Sun from whence thoſe ſtarres have light

Diſdain'ſt not ſparks, but mak'ſt them burn more bright.

p. 73Oh then thou Sun, yea light it ſelfe, indeed,

Who doſt not quench, muchles diſdainſt the ſame,

The ſmoking flax, nor break'ſt the bruſed reed,

Turn thou my ſpark into ſo pure a flame

As may both warme my chilled ſoule within,

And burſt out to the light of other men.

Thou doſt confound things mightie by the weake,

Out of the mouths of babes ordaineſt praiſe,

Mak'ſt the unlearned, yea the dumb to ſpeake,

Rejecteſt none but who rejects thy waies,

That hate to be reform'd; Lord helpe me here,

And in my weakneſſe let thy ſtrength appeare.

Breathings after Divine Ayre.

EArth ſtand amazed, ſtand amaz'd and move,

And be you heav'ns aſtoniſhed above;

A man, and yet no maker? hells abiſſe,

Yea tremble earth and heav'n, and hell at this.

Superiour powers who fram'd this matchleſſe frame

This man, and form'd your Image in the ſame,

What fretting time, or what infernall powers

Have rac'd, or thus defac'd that worke of yours?

You made him holy, he defiles his race,

You gave him honour, he hath loſt that grace,

You lent him knowledge, he abus'd that light,

Yours by creation, he denies you quite.

Unhappie chance, unhappie change, alas,

What brought this moſt unhappie change to paſſe?

Who turn'd this perfect good to perfect evill,

But he that turn'd from Angell to a divell?

That hatefull, hurtfull enemy indeed,

Who whiles man ſlept, caſt tares amongſt the ſeed,

Or rather only in that peece of clay,

Caſt tares, and ſtole the pretious ſeed away.

Preſumptuous theefe and enemy to man,

Whoſe hidious theft in heav'n above began,

p. 74He there aſpir'd to ſteale from the moſt high,

And there moſt juſtly rob'd himſelfe thereby.

For this his fact thrown down from heav'n to hell,

He loſt himſelfe, and maker as he fell.

And ever ſince, his reſtleſſe ſelfe hath toſt

To ſteale from man what he by ſtealing loſt.

But ſilly man ſhall ſuch a hatefull foe

Rob thee of God, prevaile upon thee ſo?

Shall hells black vapours ſo thy ſoule benight

To put out of thee all celeſtiall light?

But ſenſles man, or rather ſavage beaſt,

Canſt thou thus at the God-head make a jeaſt?

The fiends in hell more fealtie declare,

For they confeſſe there is a God, and feare.

Oh horid, helliſh blaſphemy, or worſe,

The damn'd in hell deny not God, though curſe.

And ſuch as here againſt him dare diſpute

Shall find hereafter hell will them confute.

But ſilly man, or monſter of that name,

In mind a monſter, though a man in frame,

Reſolve this queſtion, if thy wiſdome can,

Is there no God? how came there then a man?

But here I know thou wilt to nature fly,

All things, thou ſaiſt, by nature live and die,

And natures force doth all concluſions draw,

Nature ſhall therefore be thy only law.

I grant in all things that created be

We may a power which is call'd nature ſee;

Which to ſuch creatures is a law indeed,

Whoſe skill no other Dialect can read.

But thou who haſt an underſtanding part,

And haſt beſides much benefit by art,

Sparks rak'd up in thy aſhes of ſuch light

As death, nor divell can extinguiſh quite,

Canſt thou be groſſer then the beaſt that dies,

Blind as the beaſt is, yet haſt better eyes?

p. 75Admit no maker but ingendring power,

As earth brings forth the herb, the herb the flower?

But canſt thou into natures ſecrets pry,

And canſt not view a Deitie there by?

Earth may bring forth, but not create, fond head,

Can that give life which in it ſelfe is dead?

But here thou wilt, out of thy wiſdome ſay,

There is, indeed, both dead and living clay,

The dead brings forth the creature dull and baſe,

The living doth produce a living race.

The ſenſles earth we may with ſafety grant

Brings forth the ſenſles graſſe, the hearb, the plant,

That living morter which is man by name

By generation doth produce the ſame:

Produce, I ſay, as inſtruments whereby

Creating power continues a ſupply;

God firſt, indeed, mans God-head to convince,

Made man of duſt, but man ſo manking ſince.

Man then was made, made not himſelfe to live,

How can he then have any life to give?

Or if he hath we muſt ſubject it ſtill

Unto the force of the Creators will.

But be it ſo, what can be granted thence?

That ſenſles earth, or earth indu'd with ſenſe

Can out of their created ſubſtance frame

An other ſubſtance, or indeed the ſame.

This is but only to preſerve, tis plain,

That which before was made, not make again:

Nor can the creature bring forth, as is ſaid,

Without the help of a creating ai'd.

Thou mad'ſt not then thy ſelfe, nor yet thy Son,

Who did that work then which thou ſee'ſt is done?

Thou canſt no juſt apologie invent,

Confeſſe there is a God then, and repent.

Thy ſoule, beſides, though now inclos'd in earth,

Yet pure in ſubſtance, and of noble birth,

p. 76Cannot but at ſome time or other dart

Some heavenly rayes into thy earthly heart,

Which doth convince thy knowledge of thy errour,

And ſtrikes into thy conſcience ſuch a terrour

As makes thee feele the power of the moſt high,

Which in thy heart thou dar'ſt thus to deny.

Were this too little at it is perchance,

To work upon thy wilfull ignorance:

Yet God hath further witneſſes no doubt,

Thouſands, he hath not left himſelfe without:

His word, and works unceſſantly declare him

In ſuch a voice that all the world may heare him,

His word reveales his truth, his works his glory.

All creatures being do confirme the ſtory.

But here againe thy wretched heart replies,

Thoſe works of wonder which no mortall eyes

Can ſee into their center, ſomething poſe

Thy deſp'rate thoughts, thou ſtand'ſt amaz'd at thoſe.

But for Gods word, though writ with his own pen,

Or from his mouth by heav'ns inſpired men,

That ſuites not with thee, ſincks not in thy brain,

Tuſh words, ſaiſt thou, they are but wind or vaine.

Thou can'ſt thoſe rules, which we call Scripture, read

With no ſuch truſt to think them true indeed;

But mans invention ſo to keep in awe

Men which by nature ſtand in need of Law.

But duſt and aſhes dar'ſt thou make a tuſh

Which makes both Angels, and the heav'ns to bluſh?

Racing beſides thoſe truths which are ingraven

Upon thy ſoule by truth it ſelfe from heaven.

Prints of eternity upon thy ſoule

Are ſtamp'd by heav'n: canſt thou then ſlight that roule

Which to thee reades eternity in print?

Is heav'nly …ire ſo hidden in thy flint?

Thy flint, indeed; but when this powerfull word,

Which is more ſharpe then a two edged ſword,

p. 77Strikes home upon thy flintie ſoule no doubt,

It doth force ſparks of heavenly fire there out.

But leſt theſe ſparks ſhould burſt out into flame,

Thou ſeek'ſt by all meanes to put out the ſame,

Though making thus theſe heavenly ſparks retire,

Thou keepſt thy ſelfe unto eternall fire.

Againe this word, beſides the ghoſtly power

That reſts within that never raced tower:

The potent truth which hath ſo well been try'd,

With ſweet conſent and harmony ſupply'd,

That harbours in this heav'nly word is ſuch

As may convince thy marble heart aſmuch.

The truth indeed, that we may truly call,

One jot whereof did never faile, nor ſhall▪

And did thy ſight not dazell at this Sun

Thou there mightſt cleerly read the ſame and run.

But oh! thou wretched Atheiſt that doſt find

The ſeeing Organ of thy ſoule too blind

To view the truths in ſacred Scripture pend,

Or wilfull that thou wilt not apprehend:

O reſt not under that Egyptian cloud,

Caſt not away the meanes of light alow'd,

But read the Scripture, to avoid that curſe,

Diſuſe of reading makes thee read the worſe.

Hadſt thou a heart could truly underſtand,

Or eyes ſet ope by faith to read that hand,

Thou ſhouldſt diſcerne ſuch wonders in that glaſſe

As nothing but a God can bring to paſſe.

The truth of this moſt perfectly appeares

By the conſent of paſt foure thouſand yeares:

Each Promiſe, tipe, and Propheſie fulfil'd

Do here of certain teſtimonies yeeld.

The ſeed to break the Serpents head was ſown

Three thouſand yeares before the blade was grown,

All humane hopes might then have been caſſhierd

And yet at length a glorious crop appear'd.

p. 78God once drown'd all the mountaines here below,

But then above, in mercy, ſet his bow

To be a ſign, which hath been ſtill made good

That heav'ns no more ſhould poure down ſuch a flood.

Thus heav'ns, by Scripture, often times fore-ſhew

What by experience men in time find true,

That men in Scripture ſo may learn to read

Their Makers glory by his pen, and dread.

Again (beſides the truth that Scriptures carry

That in themſelves they from themſelves not varry,

Whereby they are with that perfection crown'd

Which in no humane Author can be found)

The loftie ſtile that ſacred Scriptures bare

Their height of birth and majeſtie declare

So powerfull, ſo impartiall and ſincere

As partiall man could never yet come neere.

Men deeply learned, and of higheſt wit,

Unleſſe inſtructed by this holy writ,

Write at the faireſt but with natures quill

Dip'd in ſome fountaine on Pernaſſus hill.

Their wiſdomes to no higher pitch can hover

Then principalls of nature do diſcover,

Imploys that agent which we Reaſon call

About no objects but meere naturall.

But ſacred writ that hath a further reatch,

That is tranſcending flies a higher pitch,

That came from heav'n, is ſpirituall, and here

Made by the ſpirit to us men appeare:

That conquers reaſon ſubdues natures Lawes

As far unable to diſpute the cauſe,

That is eternall, therefore ſent to try

That part in man which hath no power to die.

The Scripture only on the ſoule reflects

All earthly objects it, as baſe, rejects,

The ſoule a ſpirit, therefore only fit

To read thoſe copies by the ſpirit writ.

p. 79This Writ from heaven then ſummons up thy ſoul

To heaven that Court which iſſu'd forth this ſcroule;

Glew not thy ſoule then too neare earthly things,

Hang no ſuch plumets on its ſublime wings.

Againe the Scriptures only have the art

To ſearch into the ſecrets of the heart,

They only can diſcover ſin, and prove

Upon the conſcience they came from above.

They only a beginning doe relate;

No humane Treatiſe of ſo ancient date;

They only have preſerved been, and ſhall,

Though ever, doubtleſſe, envy'd moſt of all.

And in them, in the ſacred Writ I meane,

As in a glaſſe is only to be ſeen

That perfect image of ſupernall might

Which can be viewed by no other light.

There is I grant it, in each humane frame

An eye by nature fixed in the ſame,

Which doth by nature beyond nature ſee

A pow'r there ſupernaturall muſt bee.

Which power no doubt hath deified been

From the beginning by the race of men,

Though moſt for want of power to underſtand,

Aſcrib'd that power unto ſome other hand:

As ſome to creatures like themſelves but clay;

Some to the Sun, as former of the day;

Some to the Moon, ſome to the Stars, yea know

Some to the prince of hell below.

Yet all to ſomething; thus the infidell

Beleeves there is a power that doth excell,

But ignorant of what it is, doth faine

Or forge a God out of his idle braine.

Thus natures pen, by reaſons power, no doubt,

Doth point at God, but cannot point him out,

Doth ſhew a God; but what he is, or where,

That Scriptures only fully can declare.

p. 80Shall then a heathen a meere Infidell,

Who never heard of either heaven or hell,

Or dreames of ſoule, alone by natures view

Diſcern there is a God and homage due;

(Which is apparant all the world abroad,

All nations worſhip ſomething as a God)

And ſhalt thou Atheiſt, dar'ſt thou all alone

Be worſt of all men and acknowledge none?

Thou haſt, beſides the wiſeſt heathens ſight,

Much greater aide, far cleerer beames of light,

Gods holy and eternall word by name,

Eternall in the nature of the ſame,

Where thou maiſt its eternall author find,

It only gives that ſight unto the blind,

And this thou haſt not, ſo to make thee pos'd,

As pretious oyntment in a box inclos'd,

Not only in the hidden letter teaching,

But open'd by the pow'rfull hand of preaching.

Canſt thou not row then in this calmed ocean?

Sit'ſt thou in darkneſſe in this heav'nly Goſhen?

Dar'ſt thou deny that Deitie which here

Doth in ſuch perfect characters appeare?

Oh do not thou degenerate ſo far

To be more ſordid then the divels are,

The divels do much forced duty ſhew

To holy Scriptures and do know them true.

Shall divels then unto the Scriptures bow,

Confeſſe and feare them, and yet wilt not thou?

Deluded Atheiſt be reform'd herein,

Seeke no ſuch ſhadowes ſo to hide thy ſin,

Becauſe the Scriptures render thee unjuſt

Thou doſt condemne them ſo to ſave thy luſt.

Let not thy ſenſes thus thy ſoule inthrall,

For loſe the Scriptures and thou doſt loſe all,

Both ſoule, and body, heav'n, and God, yea ſoe

Doſt likewiſe purchaſe everlaſting woe.

p. 81Tis then no marvell that thou art ſo blind,

Or rather deſp'rate in thy carnall mind

That in thy fancy thou caſt apprehend

No ſoule, no heav'n, nor pow'r that doth tranſcend.

How canſt thou view theſe when thou doſt in ſpleen

Reject the glaſſe where theſe are to be ſeen?

The Scriptures are Gods tapers ſet up here,

Extinguiſh thoſe, no God will then appeare.

God, in times paſt, aid oft appeare, I know,

In viſions, and in ſhadowes here below,

But when the ſubſtance, his eternall Son

Once ſhin'd here, all thoſe leſſer lights had done.

Bright Sun, indeed, well might the ſtars give way

And hid themſelves in ſuch a heav'nly day,

A heav'nly day when heaven it ſelfe we find

Burſt through the clouds, came down to earth and ſhin'd

And yet we find this day at laſt did fade,

This glorious Sun at length began to wade,

And, from theſe nether Regions to retire,

Aſcended to the circles that are higher.

Well might the world then here beneath lament,

And put on ſackcloath weeds of diſcontent

Bewailing deeply that earth darking day

Which from the earth tooke ſuch a light away.

This heavenly Sun now in the heavens again

Whoſe glory heavens cannot alone containe:

Did leave ſome rayes below, and now and then

Doth dart down more amongſt the ſonnes of men,

But all that light now of that heavenly taper

Is ſet up in a lanthorne here of paper,

In holy Scripture all that light doth ſhine,

That is the lanthorne which gives light divine.

Then thou that firſt in ſuch a ſable night

That of this nature thou canſt ſee no light;

'Tis doubtleſſe cauſe thou doſt not duly look

Into that lanthorn, uſe that heavenly book.

p. 82Wouldſt thou have wiſdome, have thy ſight made cleer?

Thy heart made gentle, and thy ſoule appear,

See hell beneath, and heav'n that is moſt high,

Diſcern thy maker, and eternity?

Then uſe the Scripture, thy dim feeble ſight

Is apprehenſive of no greater light;

God knowes ſuch ſecrets do mans ſight ſurpaſſe,

And therefore wiſely ſhewes them through a glaſſe.

A glaſſe indeed, the Scripture is moſt faire,

And more tranſparent then the pureſt aire,

Through which the perfect Images are view'd

Of objects in the higheſt altitude.

Preſumptuous earth, becauſe thou canſt not ſee

By carnall reaſon how theſe things can be,

Thou doſt conclude they cannot be in fine,

As if there were no greater power then thine.

Thou art a peece but of the Potters clay,

What can the peece unto the Potter ſay?

Canſt thou ſuppoſe the brickle veſſell made

As skilfull as its maker in his trade?

But were this granted, which were too too groſſe,

Yet thou art vainer, at a greater loſſe,

All other creatures but the divells bee

The ſame they were created, but not we;

Thou art far weaker, worſer, and haſt loſt

Much of thy Makers workmanſhip and coſt,

Thy reaſon is corrupt, thy ſenſes ſoyl'd,

Thy nature taynted, and thy ſoule defil'd.

Indeed in the perfection of eſtate

Wherein perfection did thee firſt create,

Thy ſight was ſuch thou ſtood'ſt not then in need

Of glaſſes, or of ſpectacles to read:

Thy apprehenſion was not then ſo weake

But thou hadſt power to heare thy Maker ſpeake.

In his owne language, and couldſt underſtand

Without the helpe of any ſecond hand.

p. 83But long in Adam thou haſt loſt that art;

Like Lucifer in acting of his part;

He would have been, although in heav'n, yet higher:

Thou wouldſt, although in Paradiſe, aſpire:

He ſaw Gods face, yet that would not ſuffice:

Thou knew'ſt his voice, yet thou wouldſt be more wiſe:

He clyming, loſt the hight he had before:

And thou thy knowledge by deſiring more.

Canſt thou ſuppoſe then that impaired light

Yet in thy underſtanding part ſo bright

As to diſcern thoſe objects as they are

Which did exceed thy better ſight ſo far?

Vaine man, as thou thy heav'nly reliſh haſt

So vainly loſt by a forbidden taſt;

Even ſo thy ſight; when by a finit eye

Thou fondly wouldſt things infinite diſcry.

To ſtand and gaze upon the Sun, although

The Sun gives light, yet dims our light we know:

And yet the beames which from the Sun do fly

They dim not, but give ſight unto the eye.

So if thou look'ſt, God as he is to ſee,

The more thou look'ſt the blinder thou ſhalt be,

His countenance doth ſuch a luſtre give

No mortall eye may ſee the ſame, and live.

Yet from his face, as from a Sun doth ſhine

Such radient beames and rayes of light divine

As gives us light, and ſo much as our vaine

And ſilly Lamps can of a Sun contain.

Then let thoſe rayes which in the Scripures ſhine

Suffice thy ſoule that cleereſt ſight of thine

Thou by his beames mayſt view the Sun ſecure,

Thy ſight can not the Sun it ſelfe indure.

Thinkſt thou by power then of imperfect nature

To take a perfect view of thy Creator?

Meere foole, indeed, thou mightſt by reaſon find

This cannot be, were not thy reaſon blind.

p. 84But couldſt thou reaſon never ſo refine,

Did brighter beams not with thy reaſon ſhine:

Thou couldſt not ſee what once thou mightſt have done;

Much leſſe what was before the world begun.

Yet ſuch like thoughts in this thy ſilly vaine

And purblinde ſtate doe now moleſt thy braine,

Thou but a drop which from the fountaines fell,

Wouldſt to a fountaine in thy bubble ſwell:

Thou clim'ſt beyond the clouds, and think'ſt it fit

To be like God, out of thy mother wit,

Yea beyond God, and haſt this thought accurſt

If God made all, then who made God at firſt?

This being hyperbolicall to ſenſe,

Thou trampl'ſt on inferiour conſequence,

As Chriſt, and heaven, the ſoule and reſurrection,

Becauſe beyond thy ſenſible collection.

But thou whom night doth thus belet at noon

What ſay'ſt thou to the Sun, the Stars, the Moon,

And Heavens above? who made that glorious frame?

There is no procreation in the ſame.

They have, as very heathen do declare

Five thouſand yeares remain'd the ſame they are,

Their like they in no likeneſſe have begot,

Like other creatures they ingender not.

Whence thou by ſenſe maiſt evidently read

They from themſelves did never firſt proceed;

Yet made they be, 'tis manifeſt and cleer,

Thoſe objects to thy very ſenſe appear.

Then ſee the weakneſſe of thy ſenſe hereby;

And yet thy ſenſe thy weakneſſe doth diſcry;

Thou ſeeſt by ſenſe the body of the Sunne,

But whence proceeding, there thy ſenſe hath done:

Thou ſeeſt by ſenſe ſuch bodies formed be,

But by themſelves doth not with ſenſe agree,

This to thy ſenſe ſome others skill doth preach,

Thou find'ſt by ſenſe that skill above thy reach▪

p. 85Canſt thou by ſenſe and carnall reaſon then

Thus prove a power beyond the power of men?

And cannot that ſame power of thee be thought

A God? obſerving what that power hath wrought?

Oh Sathans captive, labour to reſiſt

That this worlds God, who thus hath caſt a miſt,

Breake through thoſe clouds, and view a God above,

Thou doſt by ſenſe a deity approve.

View him thou maiſt in manifold reſpects,

Partly be ſenſe, in part by his effects,

And then obſerve what holy Scripture ſaith,

And view him further by the eye of faith.

For theſe are they, and only theſe, whereby

That ſun doth pleaſe to ſhine down from on high,

Theſe are the caſements ſet ope to our ſight

Of heavens moſt glorious treaſury of light:

We men below have no ſuch licence given,

Or pow'r to take a perfect view of heaven,

Our light ſo feeble, and our hearts ſo braſing

We can but only pry in through the glaſing.

But here perhaps, thou wilt this ſcruple move

Admit ſaiſt thou, there be a heaven above,

And in the ſame ſuch glories as are ſaid,

Though never yet to mortall eye diſplaid.

What though there be? what canſt thou gain thereby

Since they are ſuch as thou canſt not diſcry,

Nor yet haſt hope thou ever ſhalt do here,

Thou muſt goe further from them, not more near,

Death muſt of all men living make an end,

And men by dying riſe not, but deſcend:

The grave at laſt ſhall be thy reſting plot,

Where all things are concluded and forgot.

Why ſhouldſt thou then diſquiet thy ſelfe to gain

Such knowledge as will but diſquiet thy braine?

But carnall ſcholar who doſt thus confute

Thy very ſenſe by ſenſuall diſpute,

p. 86And as it were in malice go'ſt about

To bring the very truth thou know'ſt in doubt.

Canſt thou groſſe Sadduce thus ſeduced be▪

Be yet thus blinded, yet haſt eyes to ſee?

Art thou in honour and becom'ſt a beaſt,

O like the beaſt that periſheth at leaſt?

Conſider better, labour to diſpell

Thoſe fearfull …s, they are the fogs of hell:

And thither thou muſt ſinke no means can ſave,

Beleev'ſt not thou the riſing from the grave.

But thou ſhalt riſe, thou canſt not that defend,

Though but to judgement, and againe deſcend:

This thou might'ſt prove by Scripture moſt apparant,

Could'ſt thou give credence to that heav'nly warrant.

But howſoever thou doſt under priſe,

The powerfull truth in ſacred Scripture lies,

Yet God, diſputing with the divell, took

His arguments out of that ſacred Book.

He did by Scripture Sadduces confute:

He did by Scripture ſtrike the divell mute:

He did by Scripture firſt reveale his will,

And doth by Scripture manifeſt it ſtill.

And if thou only Scripture doſt diſdain

Doubtleſſe there doth no hope for thee remain.

God could have us'd ſome other weapon then

To overthrow the divell, and thoſe men,

But yet he pleas'd to uſe no other ſword,

Only to make us truſt unto his word.

Shall God himſelf thus dignifie and grace it;

And ſhalt thou duſt and aſhes then deface it?

Oh truſt it further, and eſteem it better,

The power of God is printed in that letter.

Againe beſides the teſtimonies read

In Scripture for the riſing of the dead.

God doth convince thy error in this kinde

By ſundry means, yea in thy very minde,

p. 87God hath imprinted in thy very breaſt

Within thy ſoule, which ever ſhall ſubſiſt,

An everlaſting principall of right

Which can by no meanes be extinguiſh'd quite:

This principall is naturally ſtrong

In aiding juſtice, and ſuppreſſing wrong,

From whence it comes thou canſt not act a ſin

Of doing wrong without a check within.

Haſt thou done wrong then (as who hath not here)

Get'ſt thou not pardon for the ſame, 'tis clear

This principall, when thou ſhalt come to dye,

Will leave thy corps, and on thy conſcience flye;

Where it for ever reſtleſſe will abide

Till juſtice ſhall be fully ſatisfi'd:

From whence there muſt ſome other place appeare

To right ſuch wrongs as are not righted here.

Beſides thou couldſt not ſure account it vaine

To be reſolv'd the dead ſhall riſe again;

Hadſt thou but ſo much happineſſe to ſee

How reaſon here with nature doth agree.

Search then by reaſon into natures book;

Run to thy mothers long made grave and look

If 't be not earth thou cam'ſt from, whence tis plaine

That earth which once did live may live again.

What think'ſt thou of thy riſing from thy bed,

Fore-tells not that thy riſing from the dead?

In bed thou doſt, in earth thou ſhalt but ſleep,

In both in darkneſſe, though in earth moſt deep.

Beſides when ſlumber doth poſſeſſion take

Of ſenſes, yet the ſoule is then a wake,

The ſoule as it can never dye at all

So never ſleeps, though kept by ſleep in thrall.

God could have made us, when we were in making,

Have ſtood in need of neither ſleep, nor waking,

Had he not purpos'd by them to explain

Our ſleep in death, and life from death again.

p. 88The deepeſt darkenſſe of the longeſt night

At length doth vaniſh by the morning light:

Which ſhewes at laſt the reſurrection day

Shall chaſe the night of fatall death away:

The entercourſe of autumn, and the ſpring,

The winter, and the ſummer teach this thing,

When plants, by a viceſſitude, we know

Both live and dye, and dye, and live in ſhew.

And as the ſeed which in the earth is ſowne,

Like man it to its deeper furrowes thrown,

As dying, there produceth an increaſe:

So man doth but refine there, not ſurceaſe.

Much like the Phaenix, from whoſe aſhes breed,

As men much learned give us leave to read:

Another Phaenix to ſupply that roome,

By ſun-beams dooting on her lofty tombe.

But yet, if yet thy heart be ſuch a flint

That all this ſhewne takes no impreſſion in't,

But ſtill in heart thou ſay'ſt there is no God,

Though with thy tongue thou dar'ſt not for his rod,

Let me yet put one queſtion to thee more,

Yet to illuſtrate what is ſaid before:

What ſay'ſt to this then? ſith thou art ſo evill

To doubt of God, what think'ſt thou of a divell?

Is there, think'ſt thou, no divell, and no hell?

Thou maiſt deny them out of doubt as well,

For this is certain this from ſenſe doth flow,

No God above, no divell then below.

But this the groſſeſt heathen doe admit

They by experience and meer natures wit

Diſcerne a power beyond the power of men,

Which power hath by them ſtill admired been.

But in thy conſcience were not ſuch a ſpark

Why ſhouldſt thou be ſo fearfull in the darke?

Were there no evill ſpirits to be ſeen

What do ſuch fears then in thy fancie mean?

p. 89In times of danger eminent tis known

There's no mans heart more ſhaken then thine own:

Strange apparitions, gaſtly forms, and ſuch

Strike trembling in thee nothing elſe ſo much.

From whence proceeds thoſe hidious ſhapes, and ſights,

Thoſe hollow voices, and thoſe walking lights,

Which do ſo oft in darkneſſe us affright,

But from the Prince of darkneſſe in the night?

If this ſuffice not, but art ſtill in doubt

I know no further meanes to help thee out;

Unleſſe that it were lawfull in this kind,

To run to Endor to ſuffice thy mind

To ſuch as have ſome ſpirits at command,

Such could moſt clearly let thee underſtand,

Reſolve thy doubt, and make it to thee cleare

There are ſuch fiends, yea make the ſame appear.

If all this be too little to ſuffice,

Then ſure there is ſome divell in thine eies

Who keepes thee blinded that thou cauſt not ſee

Thoſe certain truths which thus decypherd be.

But oh vain Atheiſt reſt not in this ſtate,

Nay reſt thou canſt not tis ſo deſperate,

Then ſtrive againſt it, exerciſe thy ſtrength,

By uſe it may grow operative at length.

There yet is eye ſalve to bewray this miſt,

If that thou doſt not wilfully reſiſt,

There is a ſacred fountaine ſet apart,

One drop whereof would molifie thy heart.

Deſpiſe not then thoſe ſoveraign ſtreames below

Which down do from that ſacred fountain flow,

Thoſe healing drops which on the croſſe were ſhed,

Diſtil'd in Scriptures from the fountaines head.

Then bring thy heart, that ciſtern into frame,

And let thoſe conduits run into the ſame,

That ſtill thou mayſt, by turning of the cock,

Such fearefull doubts, thoſe braſing doores unlock.

p. 90Thy heart no dout, in doubts the harder growes

Becauſe the milk which form the Scripture flowes,

Which is moſt pretious to diſſolve ſuch flint,

Is not apply'd unto that Adamant.

At Scriptures breaſts diſdaine not ſucking then,

There's milke for babes, and meat for ſtrongeſt men:

There's meat for Saempſon, ſweet meat too, not gall:

And hony for the fainting Son of Saul.

There doth that tree of heav'nly knowledge grow

Which God hath pleas'd to plant with men below:

Another tree of knowledge ſhall be given,

More glorious too, but that ſhall be in heaven.

But further knowledge then is here reveal'd

The more thou ſeekſt, the more tis here conceal'd.

And that no doubt, hath been a reaſon why

Thou doſt thoſe truths which are reveal'd deny.

There's nothing hid that ſhall not be made known;

But here's the height of thy ambition ſhown

Thou here wouldſt to that height of knowledge clime

Which is reſerv'd untill another time.

Thou here in all things much imperfect art,

And therefore here thou canſt but know in part:

But when thy cloud of fleſh be done away

Things ſecret ſhall be manifeſt as day.

But wouldſt thou wiſely harbour a deſire

To view thoſe ſecrets Angels do admire,

Then firſt beleeve, for God hath made it plain

We muſt beleeve before we do obtain.

Heaven is a dowery God hath to beſtow,

Faith's our aſſurance of the ſame below:

Strive then for faith; thou haſt a curious eye:

Nothing but faith can give thee full ſupply,

Faith in this vain and emptie vale I mean,

By faith poſſeſſing things are yet unſeen:

That ſo in fine, when fruitful faith ſhall ceaſe,

Thou mayſt in glory reap thy faiths increaſe,

p. 91In heaven injoy that height of joy, which here

Doth only to the eye of faith appear.

Yea fooliſh man couldſt thou become ſo wiſe

As to beleeve a heaven above the skies,

And ſuch a God, a gentle God therein

As for his Sons ſake will remit thy ſin;

Thou thither likewiſe ſhould'ſt be rais'd in fine,

For there the faithfull ſhall in glory ſhine:

And thoſe ſame hidden ſecrets which have bin

Thy tortures here, ſhould moſt delight thee then.

The world to come, which here thou canſt not view,

Thou there ſhould'ſt finde unto by comfort, true:

The God above, which here thou doſt deny,

Thou there ſhould'ſt ſee, and His eternity:

How God ſhould be without beginning, here

Confounds thee quite, but there it doth appeare:

How ſpirits do ſubſiſt, and what they are

Thou know'ſt not here, but 'tis diſcover'd there:

And how Gods word ſhould make a world: alas,

Such hidden things do humane ſenſe ſurpaſſe:

But when that heav'n ſhall humane ſenſe refine,

Or rather humane ſenſe ſhall prove divine,

God with ſuch ſecrets then will thee acquaint,

If here, by faith, thou wilt be firſt his Saint.

But yet, if yet thou beeſt a ſleep ſo faſt

That all this will not rouſe thee up at laſt,

But ſtill thou wilt be ſtill a heathen ſwine,

Yet know God will be knowne of thee infine:

If here thou wilt not know him by his works

(A ſin abominated by the Turks)

If here thou wilt to know him by that ſpark

Now rak'd up in thy conſcience, yet his marke;

Nor yet wilt know him by the eye of faith,

Beleeving what the holy Scripture ſaith,

But doſt this cloud of witneſſes repell;

Yet God will make thee know him, though in hell▪

p. 92Yea more then know, for thou ſhalt feel him there,

And in that den his Deity declare,

When divells ſhall torment thee, as their owne,

Becauſe thou here wouldſt have no God-head known.

Thus I have walk'd in an unwonted ſtrain,

Which ſome, it may be, will account as vaine,

As if I heare by ſome what went about

To bring a truth moſt manifeſt in doubt,

Who is ſo groſſe may ſome perhaps, reply

To make a queſtion of the Deity?

If there be none, why ſhould I now begin

To make a doubt where none before hath bin?

Indeed with us, where ſo much light doth ſhine

As if directly underneath the line:

With us where God ſo perfectly appears,

And as it were, hath dwelt ſo many years;

If there ſhould harbour any here ſo blinde,

So dead in ſenſe, and ſtupifi'd in minde

As once to harbour Atheiſme in thought

Therein moſt hideous treachery were wrought.

Yet ſith we finde that Scripture doth impart,

Which only can anatomize the heart.

That ſuch a thought in ſome hath harbour'd been,

Yea all men are by nature ſo unclean,

(Each heart by nature is deceitfull ſtill,

And every thought continually ill)

We doubtleſſe may, though to our ſhame conclude

That Atheiſme is in a multitude;

Eſpecially if duly we propound

How meerly naturall multitudes are found.

Againe, beſides our nature, which hath ſtood,

Since Adams fall an enemy to good;

We have another enemy as great,

Who hinders good with a more deadly hate,

The divell that arch enemy, indeed

To God himſelfe, to Adam, and his ſeed;

p. 93He ſeeks by his inſcrutible an art

To ſteal no leſſe then God out of the heart,

And to that purpoſe night and day doth ſpend,

Suggeſting doubts and queſtions to that end.

By which with man he doth too much prevaile,

Elſe why did David in that nature faile,

Who was a man moſt dear to God we finde,

And yet the divell trap'd him in that kinde,

When he did almoſt in his thoughts complain

As if that he had wiſh'd his hands in vain;

From whence it muſt by conſequence ariſe

God, for the time, was taken from his eyes.

Then if ſuch lofty cedars may be ſhaken,

How may the ſhrubs be in that nature taken?

Poore creatures who have neither care nor skill

To fruſtrate Sathans working of his will.

Such fiery darts the divell dayly throwes,

And at our hearts he doth direct his blowes:

And I, for my part, cannot teſtifie

That any living, ſcape them as they fly.

Only as aged Jeſſes youngeſt ſon

For ſafety did to ſanctuary run,

Where he beheld the wound was hid before,

And eke got balme to heale his bleeding ſore.

So when we doe the tempters dart diſcry

We may like David, to the Temple fly;

To reading, hearing, meditate, and pray,

Such fumes as thoſe will drive the fiend away.

Or as old Jacobs children in diſtreſſe

When bit with ſerpents in the wilderneſſe,

By only looking on a ſerpents wing

Expel'd the poyſon of that bite or ſting.

Even ſo when Sathan, that old ſerpent ſtings

We may have healing underneath thoſe wings

Which Jacobs children in figure view'd,

To us a Chriſt, in their ſimilitude.

p. 94Thus, as the divell daily doth belay

To ſteal our goods, to ſteal our God away.

God, that we ſhould by no means let him go,

Hath left us means to circumvent that foe.

And hence proceeds that combate in our breaſts,

The fleſh conſenting, but the ſoule reſiſts:

But when the ſoule ſubmits to carnall ſenſe,

The divell then gets the preheminence.

And thou within whoſe boſome no ſuch ſtrife,

Or combate hath incumbered thy life,

The divell ſure hath favour'd thee therein,

Or thou too much infatuated bin.

But thou that feelſt no want at all of aid,

Thou gavſt him here a Paradiſe indeed,

But thou wilt give him heaven which doth exceed:

Yet doe not count this altogether vaine,

Ther's no ſuch droſſe but may afford ſome graine:

The troubl'd ſoule counts no occaſion ſlight

That may aſſiſt when it is thus in fight;

What thou think'ſt bane, may be anothers meat,

Then what thou like'ſt not, let another eat.

Though theſe be hearbs, nay weeds out of the wood,

Yet hearbs, nay weeds for many things are good,

I truſt no Colloquintida is here,

No danger if thy ſtomack then be clear.

p. 95Lord what is man that thou art ſo mindfull of him?

Pſal. 8. verſ. 4.

Deſires of Aid.

MOſt Gracious God, as then haſt lent thy hand

To move my heart, and to direct my pen,

In ſome weake meaſure thus to underſtand,

And make thee underſtood of other men▪

God only, wiſe, almighty, pure, eternall:

Without whoſe mercy man muſt be infernall.

So let thy hand Lord, be outſtretched ſtill

To ſtir my heart, that moſt polluted ſpring,

That in that fountaine I may dip my quill,

And from that depth ſuch ſecret matter bring

As to my ſelfe may make my ſelfe appeare,

That I may ſeek to make that fountaine clear.

And as we all doe, to our comfort, finde

That thou of man haſt ever mindfull been;

So let my lines be moving in ſome kinde

That we, again, may not forget thee then,

But may for ever, as it is our parts,

Inthrone thee in the centre of our hearts.

p. 96LOrd what is man may well be ask'd of thee,

None but thine eye can that exactly ſee?

Thou gav'ſt him life, when thou hadſt given him faſhion,

Thou only therefore canſt reſolve that queſtion.

Man peradventure, like a butcher may

Unmake thoſe walls which thou haſt made of clay,

Rip up mans body, open every part,

Take out his entrails, looke into his heart,

Note every artrie, conduit pipe, and veine,

And p…y into the Chamber of the brain,

Tell all his ſinewes, cruſhes, bones, and finde

How every member is to other joyn'd:

Let this be granted, as perhaps it may

In ſome imperfect ſuperfices way:

Yet what can man in this deſcription read

Of what man in perfection was indeed?

Alas, in this man doth indeed no more

Then as it were unlock the little doore

Of ſome rich cabinet, which being done,

Doth finde it empty, all its jewels gone:

Where being fruſtate of his Chiefe deſire,

Finds nothing left but only to admire

The curious art about that little frame,

With lively forms, yet pictures on the ſame.

Even ſo mans body, that ſame heav'ns device,

Wherein are lock'd up all our gemmes of price,

When cruell death once turnes his key about,

Unlocks the doore, and lets thoſe jewels out;

Mans body ſtraight becomes a trunke bereft

Of all its matchleſſe treaſure, empty left:

And nothing to the ſearchers eye remains

To ſatisfie his curious eye or pains

But only to admire the Makers skill

So wonderfull in working of that ſhell.

A ſhell indeed, we may the corps affirme

Which hath no ſoule, the ſoule a kernell tearm;

p. 97The ſhell a cheſt of curious art compos'd,

The kirnell is the treaſure therein clos'd.

Then of what knowledge is he like to ſpeed,

Of what man is, by taking up that leed?

Which priz'd ope once, by deaths ſteel pointed dart,

Mans ſoule flies out, which is his better part.

Phyſitians then by ripping up the dead

To view the body, when the ſoule is f…ed,

Can thereby doubtleſſe, not directly ſee

At all times how the elements agree

In humane bodies, nor exactly tell

How humors flow, and hurtfull vapours ſwell,

When as the ſoule commanding in the ſame,

Sets every wheel a working in that frame.

But ſay by this, and other helpfull means,

Whereon ſome learned wiſe Phyſitian leans;

He could at all times perfectly relate

The ever changing temper and eſtate

Of humane bodies, which no mortall can,

I am reſolv'd 'tis paſt the reach of man:

But grant he could, yet what were all his art?

Alas, but to diſcover man in part,

The leaſt part, and inferior too as far

As is a ſparkle from a perfect ſtar.

The ſoule, indeed, that is the only gem,

In ſearch whereof the cleareſt ſight is dim:

Grave Pliny, Galen, Ariſtotle, all

That men for skill did moſt renowned call

In former times, were failing in this kinde,

Yea in this eye of knowledge almoſt blinde,

The rayes of this ſo dazled them, though wiſe,

The more they look'd, the more they loſt their eyes:

Excepting Cato, and ſome other few,

Who were inſpir'd with a more piercing view.

Nay what man living failes not in this kinde?

Who knowes the motions of anothers minde.

p. 98Or pryes ſo far into anothers breaſt

To finde how his affections are at reſt?

What endleſſe windings occupie his thought,

And deep devices in his braine are wrought,

Which ſinking to their centre, do convert

To ſecret reſolutions in the heart.

Nay ſilly men, we are our ſelves ſo far

From ſelf diſcerning what we truly are,

Within our ſelves, that we can hardly tell

What is amiſſe in us, or what is well.

Our hearts in us are ſo deceitfull grown

We cannot ſearch thoſe bottomes of our own.

Oh ſilly creatures, ſilly ſure at leaſt,

Who beare we know not what within our breaſt,

Nay in our boſomes ſhrowd a ſerpent, which

To ſeem a Saint doth mightily bewitch.

'Tis then no marvell though we may complain

That our affections are exceeding vain,

Our thoughts, our wits, and all with folly haunted,

When all comes from a fountain ſo inchanted.

Deluded be we, out of queſtion, muſt,

Who have a power within us ſo unjuſt;

A power indeed, moſt potent too, a heart,

Which nature makes the over-ruling part:

Which force doth ſure ſufficient battell give,

And more then we can conquer whiles we live,

Yet whiles we live we muſt be ever trying,

Though cannot fully conquer without dying.

Lord, what is man then? ſtill we muſt inquire,

We are to ſeek ſtill, raiſe our judgements higher,

How comes our hearts ſo evill and accurſt,

Sith thou created'ſt all things good at firſt?

Or how come we unto our ſelves ſo blinde

That in our ſelves, our ſelves we cannot finde?

Loſt we ſo much, inheriting of ſin,

That by that gaine we loſt our ſelves therein?

p. 99Prodigious action racing ſuch a tower,

Prevailing ſo on thy creating power,

What thou hadſt form'd, deform'd, and form'd again

A moſt deformed form, which doth remain.

God Al-creating, it was in thy power

To have reſtrayn'd that enemy of our,

Who wrought upon thy workmanſhip ſo far

As to unmake, and make us what we are.

But this was for our exerciſe no doubt,

That thou maiſt crowne us when the field is fought:

Beſides to make thy love appear the more

Remaking us more glorious then before.

Thou mad'ſt man ſinleſſe, ſubject though to ſlide,

But thou wilt make him ſinleſſe to abide:

Thou gav'ſt him here a Paradiſe indeed,

But thou wilt give him heaven which doth exceed:

Lord what is man then, man that dares to ſin,

Of whom thou haſt ſo ever mindfull been?

A world before this preſent world was wrought

Admired man was pretious in thy thought.

Pretious, indeed, in ſuch a boundleſſe meaſure

As if that man ſhould be thy only treaſure,

And thereupon determin'd in thy breaſt

To ſeat him higheſt, and to love him beſt:

Such wonders in that Moſes face foreſeeing

As pleas'd thee well before, he had his being;

Wherein, indeed, was manifeſtly ſhown

Thou wouldſt unite mans nature to thine own.

When, in thy wiſdome, thou didſt think it meet

To ſet that fore-known creature on his feet,

To give man form that little world to frame,

What preparation mad'ſt thou for the ſame?

What heart of man can truly on it ponder

And not be rap'd up in any holy wonder?

Before thou wouldſt this wonder undertake,

Thou ſell'ſt to working wonders for his ſake,

p. 100Six dayes, almoſt, expired in preparing

Of wondrous things againſt this wonders roaring.

Thy powerfull hand, thy Spirit was imploy'd

By moving on a mighty Chaos, void

Of form or beauty: thence to draw by art

The dry and ſolid from the liquid part.

Both which thou having as it were given birth,

One part was waters, and the other earth;

Both which continue hanging in a ſort,

Unto our judgement, without all ſupport.

Indeed the waters do the earth ſurround,

Againe the earth is to the ſeas a bound,

But how this ſhould uphold that globe from fall

That doth exceed mans pureſt ſenſe of all.

But ere theſe orbes were fixed not to move,

And ſever'd from the orbes that are above;

Thou didſt ordaine that ornament of light

Creating day from a prodigious night.

In which thy wonder working hand was clear,

By making ſo thy wonders to appear,

For without light thy wonders wrought below

Had been but like the ſecret winds that blow.

But it did pleaſe thee to ſet ope a door

To let in light where darkneſſe dwelt before,

And here beneath injoyn'd a pleaſant way

Of entercourſe between the night and day.

And further yet to furniſh thy deſire,

Thou yet mad'ſt greater lights, and ſet them higher,

And plac'd the leſſe in abſence of the Sun,

That night might not to former darkneſſe run:

Beſides for ſignes and tokens in our clymes,

As perfect rules diſtinguiſhing of times;

Nay further, by their fervor from above

To make the earth a fruitfull mother prove,

For till the Sun unto our regions come

And warms the earth, it ſeems a barren womb.

p. 101When thou hadſt made the firmament thus faire,

Whoſe rayes come darting to us through the aire:

Extending ſeverall curtaines, as the ſhrouds

Between the higher and the nether clouds,

That by a ſecret interpoſing way,

One element ſupport another may.

When thou had'ſt drawne the waters here below

Into one fountaine, there to ebbe and flow:

And when thou had'ſt the face of earth made plaine,

And made its bars the bottome of the main,

Upon which ſure and deep foundation lay'd,

The pillars rear'd whereon this frame is ſtaid.

Thou then began'ſt to looke into thy ſtore,

That thou mights furniſh what was void before,

Yea to make fruitfull and adorne that frame

Both to inrich, and beautifie the ſame.

Thou ſayd'ſt unto the waters multiply,

Be fruitfull and bring forth abundantly:

Who hearing in their language, what was ſaid,

Without delay moſt cheerfully obey'd.

Thou ſayd'ſt unto the earth, then barren, beare,

The earth did, as it were, thy language hear,

And brought forth thouſands multitudes and more,

Of creatures which were never ſeen before.

And to the ayre thy word did but proceed,

Let there be foules, and it was ſo indeed.

Lord what a large and wondrous preparation

Was this which was the ſpacious worlds creation?

To entertaine whoſe greatneſſe was it than?

Alas, but for that little creature Man.

Nay, as if this had been too little ſtill,

To manifeſt to mankinde thy good will,

Thou didſt prepare a garden ready deck'd

With all the objects in it of delight

That might ſeem pleaſing, fruit delicious growing

On trees moſt fruitfull, ſtreams moſt pleaſant flowing,

p. 102Whoſe flowry banck, with flowers and roſes ſet

Appear'd more glorious then the pearles in jet.

All this prepared in this heavenly ſort,

Thou caldſt this councell in thy heavnly court,

Come let us make man in our Image dreſt,

For whom we have created all the reſt.

Thou took'ſt a peece then of thy late form'd clay

And form'd a man in a moſt perfect way;

And by a way can not be underſtood

That form converted into fleſh and blood.

Thou only breathedſt on his breathleſſe face,

Which gave him life, and with that life thy grace,

Which was infus'd into that power divine

His ſoule, in which thy ſacred ſelfe did ſhine.

His body was in ſuch perfection made

That, till the Serpent did his ſoule invade,

It could not ſuffer any kind of wrath,

But had a power againſt the power of death.

But for his ſoule that was divine indeed,

In it thou couldſt thy ſacred Image read

In Characters which none could underſtand

So well as thee, becauſe it was thy hand.

Within that center thou couldſt cleerly ſee,

In one, the picture of thy perſons three:

Three faculties within it repreſenting

Three Perſons in thy Deitie conſenting.

As Father, Son, and holy Ghoſt agree

To make but one eternall God in thee:

So underſtanding, memory, and will

Make but one ſoule, and undevided ſtill.

The underſtanding of it ſelfe, as prime,

The memory by knowledge got in time,

The will, and the affections laſtly breeding

From knowledge, and from memory proceeding.

All theſe at firſt in Adams ſoule were pure,

And ſparks which had a nature to indure,

p. 103Adam was in his underſtanding part

So holy, and ſo innocent in heart

That nakedneſſe, unto his conſcience cleere,

Did neither ſhame nor nakedneſſe appeare:

His memory was unpolluted ſtill,

Becauſe his knowledge had begot no ill:

His thoughts, his fancies, meditations ſweet,

And did not with the leaſt diſturbance meet;

His will, and his affections all were free'd

From all corruption, as they might, indeed;

Thoſe ciſterns muſt with water pure be fill'd

Whoſe fountaines have no other ſtreames to yeeld.

Lord, what a heav'nly harmony was here

When all theſe ſtrings were thus in tune, and cleere?

Heav'nly, indeed, for thou hadſt ſet the keyes;

Rare muſick for an earthly paradiſe.

Again, beſides this concord in his breſt,

Which cannot be ſufficiently expreſt;

All things without him were at peace and ſtay'd,

The Lion, and the Lamb together play'd,

Each creature did with other feed, and ſleep;

And all to Adam innocent as ſheep.

All theſe thou gav'ſt him freely to command,

Yea all the world as it did blooming ſtand:

And bad'ſt him take, and eate, reſtraining none

Of all the dainties in the world, but one.

And that was no reſtraint to him no doubt,

His mind was ſo well ſatisfi'd without,

He had not then that motion in him hidden

To covet that moſt which is moſt forbidden.

And in this ſtate that Adam might have ſtood,

He had a power to have reſtrain'd that good:

Only thou mad'ſt his libertie ſo free

That he might ſtand, or he might fall from thee.

But Adam, loe, he ſtood not long thus great,

Grac'd with a help too meet for his eſtate:

p. 104But that the divell all his force imployd

To worke upon the freedome man injoy'd.

The Serpent, Sathan, Lucifer that ſtar

Which heavens had caſt out in a holy war,

Thrown forth for ever to extend his pride

At moſt no higher then the clouds do ride.

Who being downe into that chaos hurld,

Where out, at length, thou did'ſt create the world:

And having fram'd that building by thy power▪

Plac'd man as chiefe upon its higheſt tower.

This author both of envy and deceit,

Admiring Adam in his matchleſſe height;

His rancor did with boyling envy ſwell,

He rais'd his powers and ſtratagems of hell,

And joyn'd them all for a moſt deadly fight

Againſt poore Adam, innocent and quiet.

But recollecting, as it were, his courſe,

Of ſeiſing upon Adam ſo by force;

Perceiving Adams happineſſe did lye

Moſt in his ſoule, which death could not deſtroy,

This deep impoſter, and moſt ſubtill fiend

Diſſembled malice, and would ſeem a friend,

And ſought by fair means ſo to take away

Thoſe pearls in Adam, force could not betray.

He ſought to Eve firſt, but to Adam by her,

And tempted Adam whiles he ſeem'd to try her;

His baite he unto Eves acceptance laid,

But Eve conſenting, Adam was betray'd.

For Sathans fore-caſt aym'd at this event

That Adam would give ſmiling Eve content:

And by that means to bring them both in thrall,

Made one a means to make the other fall:

Oh! fatall means, and fearfull too, alas,

For by that means he brought his will to paſſe.

The bait he proffer'd to obtaine his ſuit

It was no leſſe then the forbidden fruit,

p. 105Faire to the eye, and pleaſing to the taſt,

But ſtrong and deadly poyſon to digeſt.

The arguments he uſed to perſwade

Were that they thereby ſhould like Gods be made,

Knowing both good, and evill; which was true,

In part, for they till then no evill knew.

But Adam taſting, by the divels art,

That only fruit which thou hadſt ſet apart,

And told him if he taſted he ſhould dye,

Though Sathan did that certaine truth deny:

Adam did thereby inſtantly become

A ſlave to Sathan, ſubject to thy doome,

And conſcious of his ſin, and therefore ſaid

He ſaw his nakedneſſe, and was afraid.

Afraid, indeed, afraid he well might be,

Made thus a bondſlave, who before was free,

And not alone to Sathan, but to ſin,

To his affections now defil'd within,

His ſenſes, yea his ſoule became defil'd,

And all the ſtreames that iſſu'd thence were ſoyld.

His underſtanding, which before was pure,

Became corrupted, earthly and obſcure,

His memory, a nurſery of ſtore,

In which he treaſur'd up contents before;

Became a tedious Regiſter, wherin

His conſcience did torment him for his ſin.

His will, and his affections, which were juſt,

Became rebellious, and diſorder'd luſt:

His heart, where innocencie ſat as Queen,

Became a cage of ſpirits moſt uncleane.

Yea every ſence of his, which were before

Unto the Palace of his ſoule a doore

To keep in vertue, and to ſhut out ſin,

Were then ſet ope to let that traytor in.

Which traytor, enter'd, ſtruck with ſin, as dead,

The whole man from the feet unto the head;

p. 106Who to thy foe thus being brought in thrall,

Loſt both thy image, and himſelfe withall:

Nay yet loſt more, for by this curſed deed

Loſing himſelfe, he loſt his wretched ſeed,

He loſt thy image, loſt thy love, thy grace,

He loſt himſelfe, his happineſſe, and race.

Oh fearfull loſſe, and eke oh fearfull gain:

Thou wert depos'd, thy enemy did raigne;

Thy image loſt, the divell put on his;

Heaven was exchang'd for hels moſt deep abyſſe.

Lord what a heavy, hidious change was here?

Lord how did man then in thy ſight appear?

Lord with what patience couldſt thou then abide

To ſee the divell ſo in triumph ride?

Or Lord what pity in thy bowels boyl'd

To ſee poore Adam ſo for ever foyl'd?

To ſee poore Adam thus undone by theft,

Thus of his jewells, of thy grace bereft,

Caſt out by thee, of Paradiſe below,

And left unto the malice of his foe?

Nay foes, indeed, and a moſt potent troup,

The creatures all; who were ordain'd to ſtoup

At Adams beck, now in rebellion roſe,

The elements they all became his foes,

Which were his friends, and all at peace before,

The winds to rage, the ſea began to roare,

The fire to burn, and which of all is worſt,

The earth for his offence became accurſt.

Oh! Adam, Adam, though we may refuſe,

As we are ſons, our father to accuſe,

Yet being wounded by thy deadly blow,

We cannot but lament thy overthrow.

Hadſt thou in tryall nor been over come,

Though we thy ſeed, who ſhould ſucceed thy room,

Had fallen, our fall it had been ſmall to thine,

Thy fall as head, hath tainted all thy line.

p. 107Thou art our Head, and we thy members be,

Thou art condemned, how can we be free?

Had but a member only fault bin

A member only ſhould have dy'd therein.

But through the one, death raigned over all,

Death, by thy death, brought all to death in thrall,

Death temporall, that no mortall ſhall divert,

Death too eternall is our due deſert.

Lord moſt immenſe in mercy, yet ſo pure

Thy ſight can no polluted thing indure:

How could thy mercy and thy juſtice meet

In viewing Adam thus from off his feet?

But how can we thy myſteries diſcuſſe

Whoſe wayes are ſo paſt finding out by us?

Thou, in thy wiſdome, it is ſo divine,

Couldſt make thy mercy through thy juſtice ſhine.

When thou, whoſe wayes cannot be underſtood,

Saw'ſt Adam thus polluted in his blood,

As, Lord, thy juſtice did his ſentence give

Of death, thy mercy ſaid unto him, live.

Sure 'twas the time of love when thou paſſ'd by,

For Adam only had deſerv'd to dye,

That juſtice did injoyne; but live again,

Thy mercy only did that muſicke ſtrain.

Oh! heavenly muſick, harmony moſt bleſt;

Thus peace, and juſtice, truth, and mercy kiſt,

Juſtice by death thus ſatisfi'd in ſtriving,

Mercy againe thus anſwer'd by reviving.

But Adams ſoule did firſt to ſin conſent,

His body guilty as an inſtrument,

Could then the death of Adams body ſerve,

When Adams ſoule did greateſt death deſerve?

No, no, alas, that cannot ſerve the turne,

Although the body ſhould for ever burne

In flames of hell it could not ſatisfie,

Thou haſt pronounc'd the ſoule that ſins ſhall dye.

p. 108Moſt gracious God, and great beyond conceit,

How could poore Adam beare this heavy weight,

Poore, feeble, fearfull, faint, and bending reed

Support a burden infinite indeed?

Here was, indeed, the depth of miſeries,

Adam muſt dye, but death would not ſuffice,

His fact ſo foule, and infinite had bin

Death temp'rall could not expiate his ſin.

Juſtice muſt yet be ſatisfi'd by dying,

Death temp'rall it could not be ſatisfying;

Adam muſt therefore ſuffer death eternall,

Or rather live a death which is infernall.

Lord thus we finde, and make confeſſion muſt

Thy wayes are right, our condemnation juſt;

We thus behold thy ſtreams of juſtice flowing

Moſt juſtly to our utter overthrowing.

But though thy juſtice ſeem'd to goe before,

Yet thou hadſt mercy treaſur'd up in ſtore

To free thoſe ſlaves that Adam brought in thrall,

That ſo thou might'ſt have mercy upon all.

Well may we ſay love in thy boſome burn'd,

And bowells in thee of compaſſion yern'd,

How like a deare and moſt indulgent father,

Or like a melting hearted mother rather,

Who when her infant hath receiv'd ſome harmes

Then moſt bemoanes it in her tender armes.

Even ſo thy goodnes did thy love bewray

In that thy mercy could not brook delay,

But in the inſtant, whiles the wound did bleed,

Preſcrib'd a plaiſter for the wounded ſeed.

And mov'd with fury againſt Adams foe,

Who like a ſerpent had betray'd him ſo,

Not only for the preſent curs'd him for't

But thence for ever made his chaine more ſhort,

And told that Serpent that the womans ſeed

Which he had ſo much ſhaken in that reed

p. 109That it ſhould unto ſuch a Cedar grow

As ſhould infine his Kingdome overthrow.

Oh! pretious promiſe drop'd from thine own pen,

Peace upon earth, and good will unto men,

Both oyle and wine to heale the wounded man

Drawn from that wounded good Samaritan.

Oh pretious promiſe, by which Adams wife,

Late of his death, becomes his means of life:

Oh pretious promiſe, and for ever ſweet,

By which divided heaven, and earth did meet:

But Lord what ſeed, what heavenly ſeed was this,

Whoſe promiſe only could afford ſuch bliſſe?

Seed heavenly? yea ſeed wonderfull indeed,

On which our fathers many years did feed

To life, yea unto life eternall, while

This ſeed, it ſeem'd was buried in the ſoyle.

But when this promiſe ſhould become fulfil'd

Lord what a harveſt muſt this ſeed then yeeld?

But when this ſeed converteth into bread

It muſt give life ſure to the very dead:

This did exceed the Manna which was given:

This was the bread that did come down from heaven,

The bread of God, yea very God indeed;

Thy ſelfe, oh Lord, was promis'd in this ſeed;

A bread ordain'd before the world began

To ſave the world, to give new life to man.

And when the fulneſſe of the time expir'd

Thou did'ſt fulfill what man had long deſir'd,

Mad'ſt that appear in ſubſtance to be true

Which was before but ſhadow'd to the view.

But oh thou wonder-working God above,

Whoſe juſtice thus but amplifies thy love,

Who but thy ſelfe could have by ſearching pry'd

How mercy could have juſtice ſatisfi'd?

But who but thee could ever have been brought

To work a wonder as this worke was wrought,

p. 110That thou, whoſe juſtice did mans ſentence give,

Shouldſt, in thy mercy, die, that man might live?

And yet we do unto our comfort find

Thou, in thy mercy, wert to man thus kind,

Rather then mankind ſhould for ever lie

In chaines of death, the God of life would die.

But, gratious God, how can this granted be,

Thou art a ſpirit, form corruption free,

The fountain too of life it ſelfe; how then

Canſt thou be ſaid to dye for ſinfull men?

Beſides great God, if thou, as God, couldſt dye,

Which thing we muſt for evermore deny:

Yet man from death could thereby not be free,

For man hath ſin'd, and man muſt puniſh'd be.

Oh I ſoule polluting deadly ſinck of ſin,

That mankind ſhould be ſo defil'd therein,

That God himſelfe, and only God remain,

Might not forgive, nor waſh away the ſtain,

No way but ſuffering would make full ſupplies,

Offended juſtice claim'd a ſacrifice,

Man had no offering that would ſerve the turn:

Thou mightſt not, but thy melting heart did yern.

Yern, Lord indeed, to ſee hells raging fire,

But ſawſt no Sacrifice to thy deſire:

And yet, that man for ever might not burn,

Thou didſt prepare a body for the turn.

Becauſe that man no ſacrifice could find,

Nor could thy Godhead ſuffer in that kind:

Thou didſt unite, by everlaſting ties,

Thy ſelfe to man to be a ſacrifice:

Thy ſecond perſon and thy only Son,

Begotten long before the world begun:

Who, ſcorning ſhame, through all the danger ran,

Tooke fleſh upon him, and was found a man;

A perfect man, and perfect God likewiſe,

And ſo became a perfect ſacrifice.

p. 111As man, for man he dy'd, and lay as ſlain,

As God, he conquerd death, and roſe again:

A perfect man, without defect by ſin;

A perfect God he had for ever bin:

Hid God-head, and his manhood both intire,

Yet joynd in one, one perſon we admire:

By thy decree, he put out nature on,

Our nature thus, exceping ſin alone;

And, living guiltleſſe for himſelfe therein,

He dying, free'd the guilt of other men.

But being guiltleſſe, death was not his due;

Indeed reſpecting of himſelfe tis true:

But he be came man onelyonly to that end

As free, to free men that by ſin offend.

But could the death of one ſuffice for all

Yes, ſuch a one as we may truly call

Both God, and man, yea God, whoſe ſacrifice

All men, nay Angells cannot equallize:

If Adam, but a creature, could ſo fall

To bring all creatures of the world in thrall,

Sure the creating God, made man might free,

All mankind fallen in a more full degree.

A ſecond Adam thus is truly found

To ſave the world the firſt in ſin had drownd,

That as by one man, all men guilty ſtood,

Even ſo by one man all might be made good.

Firſt Adam falling, dy'd be cauſe he fell:

The ſecond ſtanding, dy'd of his good will:

A free will offering thus he freely gave,

Which by his free will had a power to ſave.

A free will offering, Lord, we truly ſay,

For of thy ſelfe thou hadſt no debt to pay,

Untill it pleas'd thee to aſſigne thy Son

To pay mans debt, whom ſin had quite undon.

Dear God that thou ſhouldſt bring thy ſelfe in debt,

The greatneſſe of it too ſhould be no let,

p. 112Should'ſt binde thy ſelfe by promiſing a ſeed,

When thou before wert abſolutely freed,

Could not the greatneſſe of the debt to pay

Thoſe flames of love within thy breaſt alay;

When thou conſider'ſt in thy deep fore-caſt

That it would coſt thy deareſt blould at laſt?

Lord, what is man we ſtill may aske of thee,

That for his ſake thou could'ſt thous moved be,

That he which in thy boſome did remaine,

Should be a Lambe from the beginning ſlaine?

Theſe ſecrets ſure were hid from Adams eyes,

Had he knowne theſe he would have been more wiſe:

But we, poore wretched we that with him fell,

Dp know, and yet we doe again rebell.

We know, and doe acknowledge as we read,

All this fulfill'd, which was before decree'd,

That this eternall Seed, thy Son is come,

By thee begotten in the Virgins wombe,

And by a way beyond our reach, became

Both God, and Man, a Lion, and a Lambe.

We know againe thy Scriptures teſtifie

How like a Lambe he did both live and dye,

How ſinleſſe, blameleſſe, harmleſſe, and demure

He did the malice of the world indure:

Number'd with ſinners, and yet free from ſpot,

Smitten of ſinners, yet he threatned not,

Led as a ſheep, did to the ſlaughter come,

Yet opened not his mouth, but was as dumbe.

Where, like a Lambe, moſt innocent and free,

To cleare the guilty, muſt condemned be,

And to regaine our freedome by his loſſe,

He by our ſins was nayl'd unto the croſſe:

Where wounded with thoſe ſoul deep wounding ſpears

Inſtead of a diſtilling floods of tears:

Hea ven was ſet open, and its fountaines ran

With ſtreams of bloud to waſh polluted man.

p. 113Where like a lamb, once offer'd up for all,

He drank not only vinegar and gall,

But dranke that bitter cup, which doth therein,

The vialls of thy ven geance due for ſin.

By drinking which he did aſſlwage thine ire;

He quench'd the flames of everlaſting fire:

And purchas'd heaven, to …ate gaping hell:

And all for mankind, out of meere good will.

Oh! worke of wonder, can our hearts not ſhake

At this whereat the very earth did quake,

The ſtones did rend, graves let out men that ſlept,

The heavens above put out thelt lights, and wept?

We read again, when he thus like a lamb

Had finiſh'd that for which he hither came:

How like a Lion he began to wake,

Or how like Sampſon, he the cords did breake.

And did aſſume his ſacred corps again,

As one returnd with conqueſt from the ſlain:

Who like a Lion joy full of his prey,

He having took the ſting of death away,

And made the grave a bed of ſweet repoſe,

He rould away the mightie ſtone and roſe:

And came and preach'd, by his new preaching birth,

Deliverance unto captive men on earth,

Yea in the earth; his riſing from the grave

Of all mens riſing teſtimony gave.

This Lion now of Iudas Tribe, as man,

Having fulfild his Prieſt here; began

To take his Royall Scepter in his hand,

As King to rule, as God to Kings command.

But, Lord, his body now was glorifi'd,

He might no longer now on earth abide,

His Kingdome was not of this wotld not here,

His ſeat ſo raigne was in a higher ſpheare;

He muſt to heav'n, into the throne of grace,

The earth is but his foot-ſtoole, and too baſe.

p. 114And having fully all thy Law fulfil'd,

Made death, the divell, hell, and ſin to yeeld,

He did ride up triumphant in renown,

After his conqueſt to receive his Crowne:

Where thou haſt crownd him with a crown more worth

Then all the richeſt Diadems on earth;

With heaven it ſelfe, and earth beſides, with all

Thoſe higher circles, and this nether ball.

And with this ſcepter in his hand, as fit,

Haſt at thy right hand him in glory ſet,

Where he remains exalted, and as God,

Doth rule the wicked with an iron rod.

But as he yet is God, and man, we read

As man, he yet for man doth intercede

To thee his Father, ſhewing of the ſcars

Which he received in his hloody warres.

And thus he hath a Prieſt-hood yet on high,

Though not to ſuffer, yet to ſanctifie

All our oblations; and his ſaving Name

The Alter where thou wilt accept the ſame,

Together with his Perſon, where is kept

The forme of man into thy boſome crept.

Whoſe ſacred body heavens muſt ſure containe

Till in his Body he ſhall come againe

To judge the Nations, at the judgement day,

Which judgement haſtens, though we men delay;

Where he will unbeleevers overthrow;

But on the faithfull he will heaven beſtow,

Where they thence forward ſhall for ever ſtand

With palmes of pleaſure blooming in their hand.

Thus, Lord, in part thou giv'ſt us leave to read

Not only what man is, but what, indeed,

Thou doſt, and wilt doe for thy creature Man,

Nay what thou didſt before the world began.

In reading which, although, unto our ſhame,

Our hearts remaine unmelted by this flame;

p. 115Yet this thy love makes Angells to admire:

And ſets beſides, the divells moſt on fire.

But gracious God, to moſt ungracious we

Thus good in a moſt infinite degree,

Do'ſt thou not dinde us to thy beck herein?

Look'ſt thou for nothing from the ſons of men?

Shall we remaine as ſenſleſſe logs unmov'd,

Returning nothing who are ſo belov'd?

Yes, doubtleſſe yes, we are moſt ſtrongly bound,

The ſtronger too, The more thy love is found;

To yeeld thce ſomething for theſe gracious tyes;

Yea to doe ſomething for our ſelves like wiſe.

As thou for us haſt offer'd up thy Son,

For us ſo acting all that might be done:

So we are lincked by the ſelfe ſame chaine

To offer up a ſacrifice againe,

Our ſelves, our ſoules and bodies whiles we live

To thee, who didſt both ſoule and body give,

To ſerve, to praiſe, to worſhip, feare, and love thee,

As none made equall, much leſſe plac'd above thee.

Thy love to us ſhould make our love divine;

Thy power ſhould make us fear no power but thine:

Thou art our God, and therefore unto thee

All divine worſhip muſt directed by:

We are exalted, it were then a ſhame

Should we not magnifie thee for the ſame:

Thou haſt made all things for the uſe of men,

Men for thy ſelfe, ſhall we not ſerve thee then?

That were too groſſe, all creatures in their kinde

Unto thy beck are readily inclin'd:

No creature like us are unto thee bound,

And ſhall we worſt of all the reſt be found?

Lord let thy grace prevent this foule defect,

The creatures elſe, will witneſſe our neglect.

But yet we owe thee one thing more then they,

Although in all things faile with them to pay:

p. 116And that is faith, which is a pearle more worth

Then all the pearles and jewels elſe on earth:

A jewell which ſurpaſſeth humane art,

A gem in which the Angells have no part.

We for our ſelves, and for that boundleſſe ſtore

Thou giv'ſt us here, do owe our ſelves and more,

But for thy Son, and for the joyes above

We owe beſid es a faith which works by love.

Oh pretious faith, a fountaine long time ſeal'd,

A hidden manna, treaſure unreveal'd

Unto the world for many hundred years,

At leaſt wiſe as it unto us appears,

Who do injoy the object of our faith

Made manifeſt, as holy Scripture ſaith.

Indeed our fathers ſaw this day, 'tis ture,

And what they ſaw, they did rejoyce to view;

Yet only through thy promiſes, whereby

They did but, as it were, far off diſcry,

Or yet more darkly as behinde a vaile,

In types, and ſhadowes, which were things to fail.

Yet being faith, though weak, it did ſuffice,

Thou bearing with the weakneſſe of their eyes;

Thou didſt accept of that which made them glad

Becauſe the light was yet but dim they had.

For till thy Son came, it I may ſo ſpeak,

Faith was an infant, and his ſight but weak:

And heaven but as a ſhop ſhut up to men,

It's windowes were not halfe ſet open then;

Nay thou hadſt very little knowledge given

For many ages of the name of Heaven;

The reſurrection, and the world to come▪

Theſe ſecrets were but ſhadowed out to ſome.

Theſe thou kept'ſt cloſe as under lock and key,

Reſerved myſteries, clouded in on high,

Untill thy Son, that day Star did draw nigh,

From whom ſome day did by degrees appear;

p. 117By ſending of thy Prophets to bewray,

Like cocks by crowing, a ſucceeding day.

Eſpecially that Prophet who begun

To crow immediatly before thy Son,

John Baptiſt, who at breake of day was ſent

To give the world a warning to repent,

And in the mercy, let men underſtand

The Kingdome, yea of heaven was then at hand.

Yea heaven it ſelfe was then ſet open wide,

And all thoſe types and figures verifi'd

Which were as vailes before thy higheſt frame,

Which ſhadowes vaniſh'd when that ſubſtance came,

That Angel of thy covenant of light,

Whoſe preſence is a baniſhment of night.

Who comming in thy pureſt brightneſſe down,

Our clouded orbes, with heavenly rayes to crown,

He brought thy ſecret lanthorn in his hand,

The Goſpel, through which light we underſtand

The very ſecrets in thy court above,

Yea in thy boſome, in that ſeat of love.

And by this lanthorne which is ſo divine

That in the ſame thy very face doth ſhine,

He plainly ſhew'd us all that boundleſſe treaſure,

That Well of life, and ſtreams of endleſſe pleaſure,

Which heaven hath ſtor'd up, and to us made clear

That he had bought them at a rate full dear,

And doth reſerve them only to beſtow,

Upon conditions, upon us below.

But what conditions doth he then require

For ſaving mankinde from eternall fire?

But what conditions doth he then enjoyne

For purchaſing a Kingdome ſo divine?

Sure had he ty'd us to remaine in hell

A thouſand yeares for this, it had been well

If we had then been crown'd with ſuch a pay:

But ſee his love, who doth but only ſay

p. 118You ſonnes of men beleeve in me and live.

Oh ſonnes of men what leſſer can we give

The Law impoſ'd a heavy yoake on men,

And then ſaid do the ſame and live therein:

But loe I thy ſelfe, Lord, who the Law didſt give,

Sayſt by thy Son, now but beleeve and live.

Lord, what is man now better then before,

That thou haſt heap'd ſuch mercies up in ſtore?

For us poore creatures, or to ſpeak more true,

Doſt mercies to us every age renue.

At firſt thou gav'ſt us all this world, tis truth,

And when this world did flouriſh in its youth:

Thou now haſt given us with the ſame, thy Son,

Thy ſelfe, and all that thou in heaven haſt done:

All which by faith we claym our owne, whiles here,

But what we ſhall be doth not yet appears.

Great God, thy mercyes are thy ſelfe no doubt,

Moſt infinitly paſt all finding out,

To us poore ſilly wretched ſinfull men,

Who are as bad as ever we have been.

But what is faith, Lord, which thou doſt thus palce

Between us, and thy Covenant of grace,

As the condition whereupon doth reſt

All our aſſurance, Lord, of what thou haſt?

Can our beleife moſt glorifie thy name?

Or wilt thou be beſt pleaſed in the ſame?

Sure that is it, tis of thy meere good will

Which thou extend'ſt unto us wretches ſtill.

Thou by our faith canſt not advantag'd be,

We by beleeving are inrich'd, not thee:

Thou haſt no need that Sacrifice be ſlaine,

But that the blood ſhould waſh away our ſtain.

Indeed by faith we ſet to, as is due,

Our ſeales to witneſſe that thy word is true,

But all the praiſe, or profit elſe redound

From our beleeving, on our heads rebound:

p. 119We do beleeve becauſe it is thy will,

But by beleeving our deſires fulfill:

What thou commandeſt ought to be fulfild,

But we obeying conquer whiles we yeeld.

Moſt gratious God, what Lord is like to thee,

Whoſe Laws give life, and whoſe commands make free?

Well my we to thy ſtatutes have regard

In keeping which there is ſuch great reward:

And yet in all thy juſt commands injoynd,

This one of all, we do moſt eaſie find,

Which is our faith, yet this, of all the reſt,

Moſt richly crownes us, and doth pleaſe thee beſt.

Dear faith, how deep are thy foundations laid?

Moſt glorious things may well of thee be ſaid,

Could we but in thy nature perfect prove

The higheſt mountaines at our beck Would move:

Through thee we ſee our ſines are waſh'd away,

To thee the very powers of ſin obey,

By thee we are made heires of things above,

Yea have an intreſt in the God of love,

And mounted on the ſublime wings, we fly

With boldneſſe to the Throne of grace on high.

The fire, and faith agree in theſe reſpects,

The fire hath heat, and faith hath its effects;

Only the heat doth from the fire proceed,

Even ſo from faith do other graces breed.

Faith then is mother of each other grace,

Thoſe not borne of her are but brats of baſe,

For till that faith doth ſanctifie our hearts

Our higheſt vertues are but morall parts.

Faith, Lord, is then thy ſtampe upon the coyn

To make it currant, and acknowledg'd thine,

Upon our graces, wherein thou doſt read

The very Image of thy ſelfe indeed.

Lord melt our hearts then, which are elſe but flint,

That this thy ſtamp may therein leave thy print,

p. 120And make the working luſter of it bright,

For we can know it by no other light.

For as ſome pretious roots within the ground

Can not, or can be very hardly found

But only when the ſpringtime doth declare

Their ſecret lodgings by the fruit thy beare.

So faith, that plant, implanted in our ſoules,

Growes ſo concealed from our ſight, like moules,

That we want knowledge to diſcern that root

But by the branches, and the fruits that ſproot.

Faith then we muſt have or we muſt loſe all,

A living faith too, or elſe die we ſhall,

Faiths life appeareth by the fruit it beares,

It fruit appeareth, being grain not tares.

O pretious fruit, may that in us be found,

We have no cauſe then to ſuſpect the ground:

Only it doth belong to us to weed

And caſt out all that may offend the ſeed.

p. 121Conſcience wounded with ſin.

Pſalme 38.

MIne iniquities are gone over mine head, as an heavy Burthen, too heavy for me,

verſe. 4.

My wounds ſtinck and are corrupt, becauſe of my fooliſhneſſe.

verſe 5.

I am troubled, I am bowed downe greatly, I goe mourning all the day long.

verſe. 6.

For my loynes are full with a loathſome diſeaſe, and there is no ſound part in my fleſh.

verſe 7.

I am feeble and ſore broken, I have roared becauſe of the diſquietneſſe of my heart.

verſe 7.

Oyle, and wine powred in.

Pſalme, 42.

VVHy art thou ſo caſt down, oh my ſoule, and why art thou ſo diſquieted within me? hope thou in God.

Pſalme, 103.

THe Lord is mercifull and gratious, ſlow to anger, and plentious in goodneſſe.

verſe 8.

He will not alwaies chide, neither will he keepe his anger for ever.

verſe 9.

Like as a Father pittieth his children, ſo the Lord pittieth them that feare him.

verſe 13.

For hee knoweth our frame, he remembreth we are but duſt.

verſe 14.

p. 122Deſires of Aid.

THou good Samaritan, thou God of art,

Good by thy readyneſſe, God by thy skill,

In powring Oyle, and wine into the heart

That ſin hath wounded; oh direct my quill

That in that beſt experience, ſence of feeling,

I may diſcover both to wound, and healing.

We are the wounded Travellers indeed,

But thou art wounded with compaſſion more;

Our wounds do make thy wounded heart to bleed;

Thy blood applyd doth he ale our bleeding ſore:

Oh pretious balme! oh let it be applyd,

And let my hand be, by thy help, a guide.

The Conſcience wounded with ſin.

OH, my mine iniquities my ſin, my ſin,

Too heavy for me, oh I ſinck therein,

It doth go over as it were my head:

Intolerable burden, no ſuch lead:

My wounds are putrifi'd, corrupt and ſtinck,

My fooliſhneſſe is ſuch; my teares I drink:

Troubl'd and preſſed with the weight I beare,

All the day mourning, never free from care;

My loynes are fil'd with loathſomneſſe, beſides

There is no ſoundneſſe in my fleſh abides:

My conſcience roares within me, and the ſmart

Torments me with the anguiſh of my heart.

Oyle, and wine powred in.

BUt why art thou thus caſt down, oh my ſoule?

Why doſt thou not thoſe fearfull doubts controull?

Why art thou thus diſquieted in my breſt?

Oh, truſt in God, returne unto thy reſt

The Lord, the Lord, is mercifull and kind,

Moſt ſlow to wrath, and to forgive inclin'd;

p. 123Although offended, doth not alwaies chide,

His anger doth but for a ſpace abide.

Like a moſt tender Father to his childe,

So is he pitifull, and much more milde;

For he conſiders where our frailty lyes,

And therefore bears with our infirmities.

The Authors Epigram.

COnſcience, oh conſcience how comes this to paſſe?

Canſt thou be wounded, and yet arm'd in braſſe?

Yea in a habit far more hard then ſteel,

A conſcience ſeared hath no ſenſe to feel.

But can ſin wound thus, hath it ſuch a dart,

Yea wound thus deeply, pricking at the heart?

Oh cruell weapon, can it thus indent

Through braſſe, through ſteel, yea through this adamant?

And yet ſin works not thus upon the ſoule

That it would conſcience in the act controll,

But rather rocks the conſcience moſt aſleep

When, like an aſpe, it makes the wound moſt deep.

Then, there is nothing can do conſcience good

Till it be ſprinkled with diſſolving blood;

But then each motion that doth ſin apply

Doth wound the conſcience and doth terrifie.

The conſcience wounded with ſin.

ALas, alas, the ſoule that ſinsmuſt die,

So Scriptures tell me, can the Scriptures lie?

No, no, the Scriptures never can be broken

No word ſhall fail that is in Scripture ſpoken.

Oh, then what comfort can remaine for me,

How ſcapes my ſoule, my ſinfull ſoule then free?

For I have ſin'd, and ſin to death betraies,

Death is the wages that hard maſter payes.

Inviolable word of God herein,

Moſt miſerable wretch that I did ſin:

p. 124Moſt wretched ſlave that ſuch a Maſter hath:

Moſt cruell wages, oh eternall death.

Oyle, and wine powred in.

VVHy will you dye? thus doth our Father call,

When I delight not in your death at all?

Why will you dye then? Oh returne and live,

I pardon ſin, and freely doe forgive,

My mercies pleaſe me, I delight remorſe;

But juſtice comes forth by conſtraint and force.

Beleeve and live, this God the Son hath brought us:

And by his death, from death eternall bought us:

He paid our ranſome, and doth to us cry

He that beleeves in me ſhall never dye:

He trode the winepreſſe of that bitter grape,

And drank the dregs off, that we might eſcape.

The Authors Epigram.

THe ſoule that ſins ſhall dye, ſo Scripture ſaith,

And Scripture is our evidence of faith;

Againe the Scripture evidence doth give

That ſuch a ſoule as doth beleeve ſhall live.

Is then beleeving in our Saviour dying?

Or is his death made our death by applying?

How can the Scriptures here be reconcil'd,

Can we both ſave the parent, and the childs?

Surely Gods juſtice muſt be fully pay'd,

But ſee Gods mercy how the debt is laid,

Man is ingaged, man is quite undone,

God, to redeem man, layes to pawne his Son.

But man hath ſin'd, can God then ſatisfie?

Yes, God for man doth become man and dye,

Whoſe guiltleſſe death to guilty man apply'd

Is more then if that all the world had dy'd.

p. 125The conſcience wounded with ſin.

BUt yet I am not ſatisfy'd, alas

My ſoule hath ſin'd, how can it come to paſſe

Anothers ſoule ſhould ſet my ſoule then free,

What can anothers death be unto me?

When Scripture doth directly teſtifie

The ſoule that ſins, that very ſoule ſhall die?

Beſides, my ſins they are exceeding great,

Nay more, I feare my ſins are deſp'rate,

I have been ſuch an enemy to heaven

That I ſuſpect I cannot be forgiven,

I faine would beare up, but this beats me downe,

This milſtone ſincks me, oh it makes me drown.

Oyle, and wine powred in.

BY the firſt Adam all are bound to dye;

What there was loſt, the Second doth ſupply:

In the firſt Adam ſoule and body ſlain:

But in the Second both made live again:

For in our whole man Chriſt hath fully paid

What can be unto ſoule or body laid.

Can then the greatneſſe of mans ſinning let

When God himſelfe hath undertooke the debt?

No, be the bill ingaging us moſt large,

Yet, having faith, we need not fear diſcharge:

For as in Adam all condemned be

Even ſo in Chriſt are all by faith made free.

The Authors Epigram.

OLd Adam falling all men fell therein▪

Becauſe that all men were in Adam then:

Chriſt our new Adam, to renue old man,

Within our natures a new birth began.

By which new birth we are new borne indeed,

We in this nature, are new Adams ſeed,

p. 126Begotten in him as the Scripture ſaith

In him we live, we move, and dwell by faith.

By faith, indeed, for without faith we dye,

Within this field doth all our treaſure lye.

Through Adams ſin we by deſcent are ſlaine:

But through new birth we live in Chriſt again:

Beſides, in Chriſt we were condemn'd and dy'd,

He in our whole man all our wants ſupply'd.

Nor yet is juſtice in this nature croſt

If one man ſaves, as much as one man loſt.

The conſcience wounded with ſin.

BUt oh, my conſcience is not yet at reſt,

Sin yet doth wound me, it doth yet moleſt:

What though it were ſo that all mankinde be

By Chriſt from ſin originall ſet free,

And ſo our ſecond Adam doth reſt ore

What our firſt Adam ſet upon our ſcore?

Alas, this cannot conſcience free from care:

I have a load of actuall ſin to beare;

What though I once were dreſt in cleane attire?

I have return'd to wallowing in the mire:

My actuall ſin is more then Adams curſe,

Condemnes more ſtrongly, and torments me worſe.

Oyle, and wine powred in.

MIſguided conſcience be informed better,

Our father Adam was a greater debter;

As he was guilty of our root of ſin,

So of the branches that take life therein,

That, were his ſcore not by another paid,

All ſin might juſtly to his charge be laid.

Even ſo our ſecond Adam hath made good

All whatſoever can be underſtood

Was loſt in Adam, and hath charged bin

Both with the root and branches of our ſin:

p. 127And given for all ſin a diſcharge, although

All ſinners have not their diſcharge to ſhow.

The Authors Epigram.

OH ſubtill Scrpent, how could he invent

One ſhould be charg'd with all mens puniſhment,

And yet not one man thereby have redreſſe,

Alas, not one mans puniſhment the leſſe.

But loving Father who haſt ſent thy Son

To undoe all this hatefull foe hath done,

Thy wiſdome doth his ſubtilty exceed,

Making him only guilty, mankinde freed.

Freed by the freedome that thy Son hath wrought;

The Price whereby he hath our freedom bought

Is ſure ſufficient fully to acquit

All ſin in mankinde, mankinde can commit.

The reaſon then that any man is loſt

Is not the want of a redeeming coſt,

But only the redeemed are too blame

Not getting their aſſurance of the ſame.

The conſcience wounded with ſin.

DOth Chriſt diſcharge this debt that man did owe,

Oh bleſſed Chriſt, but on condition though,

Though Chriſt be in this obligation ty'd

Yet tis but on conditions on our ſide,

It we performe not the condition then

The bond is void, and we are undone men.

What is it then to me though Chriſt be bound

If the condition be not in me found?

Oh what is this condition? I am fraile,

I feare I ſhall in this condition fail;

My conſcience tells me I am ſtill ingag'd,

How ſhall my conſcience be herein aflwag'd?

p. 128Oyle, and wine powred in.

BLeſt Chriſt indeed, we may moſt truly ſay,

Thus bound for us ſo great a debt to pay,

Yet on our part ſo little doth require,

And yet that little likewiſe doth inſpire,

Sure ſweet condition, eaſie to fulfill

Where meanes doth furniſh to diſcharge the bill.

Eaſie, indeed, what can more eaſie be

Then to beleeve that Chriſt hath ſet us free?

And yet as eaſie as it is we find

This our condition doth no harder bind;

Nay he that binds us in this golden chain

Doth give the thing too he requires again.

The Authors Epigram.

OH bleſſed Saviour what couldſt thou do more,

Who to inrich us mad'ſt thy ſelfe as poore?

And to requite thee, whence the Milions came

That did redeeme us, …oſt accept a dram.

And yet that dram too which thou doſt demand

Drop'd from thy fountain, falls into our hand,

Thou haſt not only eaſie payment ſet,

But fillſt our purſes to diſcharge the debt.

Oh froward mankind, ſhall we fooles then gr…

To pay ſo little, to receive ſo much?

Shall we make forſet, all we have betray

Becauſe we will not a poore homage pay?

Faith is but as our fealtie here done

To hold our right by in our Fathers Son,

In Chriſt who is our purchaſer from thrall,

Our right, our Portion, Kighteouſneſſe and all.

The Conſcience wounded with ſin.

OH bleſſed faith, art thou with God ſo great,

Doth he eſteeme thee at ſo dear a rate?

p. 129But wretched I then, and of all too blame

Who have been ſo reſpectleſſe of the ſame

That I, poore earthworm, never underſtood

This heavenly jemme, or how it ſhould do good.

Alas I thought it but a fruitleſſe grace

Which idle Chriſtians only did imbrace,

I could no beauty in this Rachel ſee.

But blear-eyd Lea ſeem'd as fair to me:

And therefore it is juſtly me injoynd

If I, for faith now, do meer fancie find.

Oyle, and wine powred in.

THe ſlighting faith we muſt a fault confeſſe,

But if it be through ignorance the leſſe,

God winks at times of darkneſſe, though indeed,

We are not thereby abſolutely free'd:

But when the glorious Sun-ſhine doth apear

What can excuſe us if we ſee not cleer?

No juſt excuſe can here excuſing be,

And yet the Sun we often clouded ſee.

So though our Sun hath chas'd our night away.

Yet we have cloudes ſtill to obſcure our day,

Our cloud of folly makes our faith retire;

Yet find we ſmoke though it do argue fire.

The Authors Epigram.

THree clouds on mankind do like miſts benight,

And keep ſome blinded in the very light,

Firſt ignorance, then careleſneſſe, the third

Is obſtinatly to reject the word,

The firſt is moſt excuſable of all:

The ſecond binding to a harder thrall:

The third exceeds all, and is ſinfull moſt,

If not the ſin againſt the holy Ghoſt.

Where meanes is wanting ſaving faith to find

We muſt not judge there though they yet be blind▪

p. 130For God elects, and then doth faith foreſee,

Elſe how could fooles and infants ſaved be?

Againe, ſome loyter while they have the day,

And yet ere night do labour, and have pay:

But ſuch as in the vineyard, being pray'd,

Will never labour, ſhall be never paid.

The conſcience wounded with ſin.

BUt wretched I, what can I doe herein?

How can I labour, I am dead in ſin,

Can dead men work? I hear indeed the call,

But can but hear it, cannot work at all,

No worke but dead works, God doth ſuch deſpiſe,

He doth delight a living ſacrifice.

I doe confeſſe I faine would work indeed,

Fain would believe, I fain would learn that creed;

But oh my ſins, my ſins are in the way

My ſins doe ſtill my confidence betray;

I faine would faith unto my ſelfe aſſume,

But ſin prevents me, tells me I preſume.

Oyle, and wine powred in.

FAith is, tis true, the gift of God we read,

God doth both worke the will, and eke the deed:

Faith in this nature is an eaſie taske,

We can doe nothing for the ſame but aske;

The only labour now impos'd on man

Is to diſcerne, and cheriſh faith began.

Is faith Gods gift? then let us beat up ſtill,

He can beſtow that dowry when he will,

Nay faith already may infuſed be

Though ſcarce diſcerned in a ſmall degree:

Then, though we build not Caſtles in the ayre,

Yet we, of all things, are not to deſpair.

p. 131The Authors Epigram.

AS faith doth point at things yet unreveal'd,

So faith it ſelfe lyes in it ſelfe conceal'd.

And may be long time in the heart, no doubt,

Before we truly finde that ſewell out.

Beſides our ſins doe much obſcure that light,

And caſt a miſt before our feeble ſight,

Yea every ſin, when faith would elſe aſpire,

Doth helpe to keep down, if not quench that fire.

Sin is, indeed, faiths enemy profeſt,

And the more ſin, the more is faith ſuppreſt;

But when that faith doth once by force command,

Sin then doth yeeld, faith gets the upper hand,

Faith for a time, may as it were obey,

But in the end faith alwaies gets the day;

And as faith proſpers, by degrees gets ſtrength▪

So ſin growes feeble, pines, and dyes at length.

Conſcience wounded with ſin.

BUt muſt ſin dye, and by degrees ſurceaſe

Where faith doth live, as faith doth force increaſe?

Oh wretched creature I how ſhall I do then?

I feel, alas, no death, but life of ſin,

Sin ſtrives as much as ever heretofore,

Or rather ſtrugles in my boſome more.

I doe confeſſe I feel my ſoule diſtreſt,

And faine would feel fin in my ſoule ſuppreſt:

But when I labour to reſtrain the ſame

It growes inraged, is the worſe to tame,

Oh ſad condition, oh my ſoule ſincks here.

Are there no other ſigns of faith appear?

Oyle, and wine powred in.

NO ſignes but ſuch, and yet ſoule ſinck not though,

Sin muſt be kill'd but dyes not at one blow:

p. 132Sin in our natures will us battell give,

Though dying, whiles we doe in nature live;

But ſin is, moſtly, ſure moſt wounded when

It flies on conſcience, moſt tormenteth men.

Are then our conſcience, through our ſins unquiet?

Sin then, and faith ſure are in us at ſight;

If ſin within us no reſiſtance found,

Sin in our conſcience would delight, not wound.

And thus by ſignes we ſecret faith may ſee

Which without ſignes cannot diſcerned be.

The Authors Epigram.

FAith is, indeed, our tree of life below,

Which tree we only by the fruit can know:

Would we know then if we have faith, or no,

The root lies hid, we to the fruit muſt goe.

The fruits are feeling firſt ſins wounding dart,

Next a compunction in the wounded heart;

From whence proceeds a diligence with ſpeed

To get a balſome for theſe wounds that bleed.

The other fruits that fruitfull faith doth beare

Are ever after to be arm'd with care,

With zeale, and wiſdome to reſiſt that foe

Who, at advantage, had deluded ſo.

From whence proceeds a hatred unto ſin,

Deſire of vertue, and delight therein,

All mens endeavouring that my aid ſupply

To make faith lively, and make ſin to dye.

The Conſcience wounded with ſin.

OH bleſſed faith! art thou the root indeed?

Oh would I could with bleſſed Job then read

Thee grounded in me: ſprings doe teſtifie,

Though through high mountains, that they have ſupply;

The fountaine will be falling: and the root

It will be riſing, forth will branches ſhoot.

p. 133I feele, indeed, ſome drops of vertue flow,

And beare ſome leaves too, which doe make a ſhow:

But oh my conſcience cannot ſo be quiet,

Such ſignes are frequent in the hypocrite:

But ſin diſſembled under grace is worſt,

The tree which beares but only leaves is curſt.

Oyle, and wine powred in.

FAith is the fountaine whence all graces flow,

Faith is the root whereon thoſe branches grow,

And faith gives life, though it may lye as hid,

To all our actions, or they elſe are dead:

For Chriſt, in whom all fulneſſe doth excell,

If we have faith, by faith doth in us dwell.

Whether our actions though be leaves, or fruit

None but our conſcience truly can diſpute,

Whether the action from the heart proceeds

None but the conſcience that rare language reads:

But when the conſcience hath true knowledge gain'd,

That then is fruit which conſcience finds unfain'd.

The Authors Epigram.

MIſguided mankinde, whither have we gone

To ſet up merit in our makers Throne?

Faith is in Chriſt, and Chriſt in faith, why then

Diſdaine we faith, adore the works of men?

Sin is the old man, wretched and for lorne,

Begot in Adam, in our natures borne.

Chriſt is the new Man, by a ſecond birth,

Through faith conceived, and by grace brought forth.

Grace flowes from faith, and faith in Chriſt began

Both thoſe united make but one new man,

And then moſt bleſt, and not till then we are,

When in our ſoules we feele this infant ſtir.

Would we then prove this new man to be ours,

We ſure muſt prove it by renewing powers,

p. 134We muſt be new men, muſt have new deſires,

New ſtrength, new life, new flames of ſacred fires.

The Conſcience wounded with ſin.

BUt is it certain as this tenet ſaith,

Hath each man in him, that hath ſaving faith.

Such a new creature as is Chriſt indeed?

Then which way ſhall we thoſe ſame Scriptures read

Chriſt is aſcended into heaven: again

The heavens muſt hold him, yet muſt him contain?

But if it be ſo that this new man muſt

Abide in all men that by faith are juſt,

Oh then I feare me I am barren ſtill,

Or faith is in me yet but in the ſhell:

I find ſome motions now and then, indeed,

But prove but motions, nothing doth proceed.

Oyle, and wine powred in.

VVHere faith is Chriſt is, it muſt needs be ſo,

The ſpring doth alwayes from the Fountain goe

Chriſt is the Fountain, faith the ſpring diſtild,

We with the Fountain, by the ſpring are fild:

Beſides the Scriptures in this caſe are rife.

Is Chriſt not in us, we have then no life.

But life, we know, admits degrees therein,

So life of faith, as ſound, or ſick of ſin:

Diſeaſes do the ſtrength of nature breake;

If ſin diſtempers, faith is ſick or weake:

But ſure ſo long as motion doth remain

There yet is life, and may be health again.

The Authors Epigram.

BƲt in what nature, if you aske of me

Can Chriſt, that new man, in us dwelling be?

Sure chiefly as he is a God to guide;

As he is man he doth in heaven abide.

p. 135Yet in our natures what he did below

Doth from his fountaine, to our ciſterns flow:

As he is God, his preſence we poſſeſſe,

As he is Man, we doe by faith no leſſe.

As Man, he did the debt of mankinde pay.

As God, he purchas'd man a heavenly ſtay:

But both made ours by imputation, when

Faith, the condition, he perform'd in man.

Our debt is paid then, and our purchaſe bought,

Our Father for us nothing left unwrought:

Only on our part the condition runs,

Believe in Chriſt, and be imputed Sons.

Bleſt imputation, and condition ſweet:

Bleſt creature where theſe Relatives do meet.

The conſcience wounded with ſin.

ALL ſaving faith, yet without ſaving power

But as it clayms Chriſt for a Saviour.

But here I ſigh, alas, my ſight is blinde,

Faith is a ſecret lyes full deep to finde,

Nothing but ſignes and its effects appear,

My ſight may quickly be deceived here.

Leaves may delude, though they he freſh and green,

Fruit hath been wanting where ſuch leaves were ſeen.

Indeed my heart doth proffer me this bait

That my endeavours are without deceit;

But here I tremble, I am fore afraid

My conſcience ſhould be by my heart betray'd.

Oyle, and wine powred in.

THe heart of man, unſanctifi'd, tis ſure

Is above all decei…full and impure:

But ſuch a heart as doth in ſin delight

Awakes not conſcience, but would keep it quiet;

If then the conſcience be afraid to ſin

Faith, out of queſtion, did that fear begin.

p. 136The hypocrite doth all he does for ſhew:

The man ſincere doth no ſuch trumpet blow:

Doth ſin in ſecret then the ſoule afright?

Doth prayer in ſecret give the ſoule delight?

Are all good duties in the doing ſweet?

Then doubtleſſe faith gives motion to thoſe feet.

The Authors Epigram.

ALL holy duties then we muſt frequent,

Faith, to our knowledge hath no other vent,

Thoſe are the fruits of fruitfull faith: then where

Thoſe fruits appear not, how can faith be there?

Neceſſity is there upon us laid

To us good duties, faith is elſe betray'd:

We muſt be zealous both to heare and pray:

How dare ſome then caſt blocks in ſuch away?

Zealous, indeed, what ever elſe is done

Is but like empty ſhadowes of the ſun,

Empty indeed, and when we come to try them

They prove like ſmoake, we finde no comfort by them.

Then in good duties we muſt labour ſtill,

To draw ſome matter from them that may fill,

Some ſweetneſſe, and ſome comfort in them finde,

Or elſe we vainly do but beat the Winde,

And yet we muſt good duties do, although

We yet finde nothing in the ſame but ſhow.

Becauſe God hath appointed them a way

Through which, like conduits, he doth grace convay.

FINIS.

End of the text · Edward Calver, Divine Passions Piously and Pathetically Expressed (1643)