A Brief Unveiling of God and Mans Glory, Part 1
A BRIEFE VNVAILING OF GOD AND MANS GLORY. In which is,
1 A briefe rehearſall of Happineſſe in generall.
2 How this Happineſſe is manifeſted by Ieſus Chriſt.
3 The Soules Song of Love.
By JOHN GREENE.
LONDON, Sold by THOMAS FAUCET in the Black-Friers. 1641.
THe creatures all of ſeverall kinds, to finde felicity,
Doth joyne both hands and hearts in one, if they may it eſpy:
This golden ball each man would have, and therefore runs a race,
From eaſt to weſt, frō north to ſouth, they ſpare no time nor place,
Some ſcattered ends of it they find, and by it wet deſires,
Which ſoone are loſt or elſe doth fall, below thoſe heavenly fires,
Content, content each man doth cry, but that is it alone
Which dwelleth in eternity, where joyes are all in one,
Where all things lovely have their riſe,
Their fountaine and their ſpring,
Upon this Mountain there doth ſit, the Potent mighty King,
With crowns of glory on his head, with ſtrength on his right hand,
The praiſe alone of beauties faire hath him at all command,
His throne alone (ſurrounded) is with honours higheſt praiſe.
If you will know his name, he is call'd the Ancient of dayes;
Who is the ſtock & root of good, where ſweetneſſe loſeth meaſure,
The height & depth of glories great, makes up his exhauſt treaſure,
Who lived before to give him breath, who gave to him his ſpring,
Shall any force him from his throne, and there ſit down and ſing?
Did any ſill his heart with joy? if ſo, ſhew forth his Name,
If not, then look upon his face, that you may ſpred his fame:
If happineſſe you doe purſue, if pleaſure be your aime,
If all things ſweet you mean to meet, and ſo make ſure of gaine,
If worlds of honor you would have, if crowns be your delight,
Or if you love to pleaſe your eye, in any lovely ſight,
If you on ſubſtance love to ſtand, when comes a ſtormy houre,
Or whē the darts of death are thrown, y would hide you in a tower,
Then flie into his boſome faire, where beauties all doe meet,
And when thou entreſt in that place, with ſmiles they will thee greet
Each glory ſhewes a pleaſant face, thou canſt them not withſtand;
They will allure and make thee ſure to be at their command,
Such Muſick ſweetnes thou wilt find which will thee force to ſtay,
The voice of praiſes will thee charm, and bid thee come away;
And dwell for ever in this ſight, where myſteries are made known.
Then whatſoever thou underſtand'ſt doth ſure become thine own:
If there thou findeſt Wiſdomes ſeat, and ſearcheſt out her ſpring,
The ſtreames of glory ſhe brings forth, will crowne thee as a king,
Who knoweth what power, what force ſhe hath?
None yet withſtood her arme,
Who ever fled into her bower, and by it purchas'd harme;
How ſafe are all that lye down there, though claps of thunder flie,
And though the clouds with darkneſſe thick, over the world do lie?
If Princes rage and at thee ſwell, they ſpend their breath in vaine.
If ſnares they lay, the moſt they get, is labour for their paine.
Thou ſtand'ſt upon a mighty rock, thy building ſure is high.
Thogh dangers were like armies ſtrong, they cannot thee come nigh
Oh if you would be truly bleſt, and never know no griefe;
Then dwell amongſt thoſe ſtreames of joyes,
Which each ſaith I am chiefe.
There's roome enough, thy thoughts may play,
Thy game will ſtill thee pleaſe,
Allbonds by Law are there cut off, thy work it is thy eaſe,
The heighth, the depth, the length, the breadth, I am alone can find,
He knowes it well, and by this light refreſheth ſtill his mind:
All things in him deſired are, and all maintaine deſires,
Love ſtill doth reſt within his breſt, and kindles holy fires,
Who ever ſaw (and loved him not) the beauties of his face,
And if thoſe beames on them did ſmile,
They cloathed were with grace:
And then like Princes they did ſtand, moſt comely in his ſight,
Their lovely looks doth him perſwade, in them to take delight.
And if in ſuch he takes content, which are but as a land
From whence the crop is cut away, and ſome few yeares doth ſtand,
What reſt, what joy, what high ſolace, hath he in fulneſſe ſtore,
Where treaſures are with ſuch increaſe, he cannot ask for more?
And theſe he ſets before his view, for ever to be ſeene;
In all his dayes there's no decayes, each thing is new and greene:
The life he lives is called love, and doth his fill enjoy,
He walkes along in pathes moſt ſweet, where none can him annoy:
Security it is the rock upon the which he ſtands,
And there in triumph doth he reign, and bindes all others hands;
His crown is this, he knowes his ſtrength, the armies of his power,
Are quickly gathered into one, and ready at an houre;
He knows his enemies where they lie, their ſcowts & all their train,
Their plots do make him melody, by theſe he ſees them ſlain.
He works and none moleſteth him, but forthwith gives him way,
His praiſe his enemies brings to light, in heart tho they ſay nay.
Who would not lie within his breſt, his counſels for to know,
And ſee how powers do there combine, his foes to overthrow:
If there thou ſtay, thou ſure ſhalt ſee the Godhead round him flow,
Each glory with it's ſeverall light, makes up a lovely ſhow:
Theſe excellencies all doe ſay, we will ſtand thee in ſtead,
Himſelf theſe excellencies are to help him at his need;
Life is the chiefeſt of his ſtrength, love joynes it ſelfe to either,
There truth and holineſſe are met and mingle both together.
Light comprehendeth all the ſumme, and for all maketh way,
That ſo eternity may ſeeme, but as one pleaſant day,
In which his beauties are diſplai'd, by peeces at his pleaſure
And ſo the Godhead ſhewes it ſelf, quite boundleſs in it's meaſure.
'Tis that which comprehendeth all, to it all's but a ſtory;
And like a Prologue maketh way, that it may ſhew forth glory;
All creatures of it ſpeaketh praiſe and ſings a pleaſant ſong,
We dy and vaniſh quite away that ſo truth may be ſtrong.
Of this all Angels ſpeaketh high, and ownes no other talke,
Their feet are ſtrong to run a race, in this moſt ſpacious walke,
Their names, their natures, all they are, this Myſtery maintaines,
If this were done their life were gone,
Their pleaſures turn'd to paines,
They never ſpeake of any power, but in Iehovahs name,
They are glad to hide them in his tower,
To keepe themſelves from ſhame.
O let none grope in darkneſſe thick, to finde a pleaſant way,
Leſt cloudes put out his glimmering light, and ſo he go aſtray,
The creatures all they are as vailes, through which few men can ſee
Moſt aime to catch their gaudy ſhewes, and miſſe felicity,
But if the myſtery opened were, ſome light there would appeare,
Then reſtleſſe ſhould ſhe he untill we clime a higher ſpheare,
Whereas the fountaine of all bliſſe, eternally doth flow,
And from thoſe ſprings refreſhment runs, to all that thither goe.
What mighty ſea of joy is there? one wave another takes,
Thus we are borne, and tydes of love and ſorrowes us forſakes.
All ſpots and ſtaines are waſh'd away, full fair are we and bright,
That ſo the King of glories great, in us may take delight.
When we are deck'd with ſuch a dreſſe, as ſutes with him full well,
Then comes he to his Princely ſeat, reſolving there to dwell,
The throne he is on, is heaven cal'd, where he doth rule with might:
This heaven is his beauties faire, each in his fulleſt light.
Another dwelling place hath he, which he his Temple ſtiles,
And there full oft in glory walkes, rejoycing it with ſmiles.
If thou but in his loweſt ſeat his countenance doſt ſee,
Thou ſhalt at length his throne ſurmount,
Where honoured thou ſhalt be;
The firſt and laſt that ever was, or evermore ſhall be,
Will on thee ſet immortall crownes in ſigne of victory,
Where thou ſhalt ſing new ſongs of love, for ever and for aye:
Where time's loſt in eternity that everlaſting day.
And thus the God of gods will ſay, my childe all is thine owne,
Theſe pleaſures ſweet, theſe glories great,
This high and kingly throne:
Here ſit thee down, involve thy ſelfe, with honours higheſt fame,
To make thee equall in delights, I'le clothe thee with my Name.
In fulleſt glory ſpread thy ſelfe, here's roome for thee to lie,
Thy heart, thy thoughts, and all thou art, is in infinity.
The more thou look'ſt, the more thou mayeſt
Still love to looke upon,
And looke to love and ever gaze
Upon this King alone.
This is the ſong thou ſtill wilt ſing,
I am hath ſet me free,
And now I walke as ſet at large,
In midſt of liberty.
Sorrowes below me have their ſeat,
Griefes cannot me come nigh,
The dreadfull pangs of death are paſt,
I owne no miſery.
As women joy when after paine,
They ſee their iſſue come,
And through thoſe joyes their paines forget,
As if they nere had none;
So I forget all things that's old,
I wholly them eſchew,
And now addreſſe my ſelfe to joy,
In things moſt faire and new.