A Brief Unveiling of God and Mans Glory, Part 2 – Part 3
Happineſſe conveyed by Ieſus Chriſt.
WHen death came on by Adams loſſe,
Our danger might we ſee,
The preſence of true joyes were gone,
Men left in miſery.
Thoſe beames of light which was our ſtrength,
Were vaniſht quite away,
The frame and face of all things then,
Muſt periſh and decay.
Alas poore man thou art undone,
Who ſhall thy loſſe reſtore,
And quit thee out of ſlaviſh bands,
And cure thee of thy ſore?
Muſt death be ſtill a tyrant ſtrong,
And rule thee at his pleaſure,
Or by his many poyſon'd darts,
Torment thee without meaſure.
Where is thy ſtrength, looke round about,
Will none thee now deliver?
Is there no King with death to meet,
Well furniſht with a quiver?
With many arrowes ſharp and keene,
To ſting death to the heart,
And ſo to make his powers fall,
And eaſe thee of thy ſmart?
If one there be, declare his name,
Let all men know his power,
And ſee the ſtrength of his right arme,
That rais'd downe hath deaths tower,
That ſo to him we praiſes may
For ever ſing alowd,
And in his bower finde a place,
Our ſelves in ſtormes to ſhrowd,
He is call'd by name the Sonne of God,
God in his rich aray,
With all his fulneſſe ſhining bright,
And coſtly garments gay,
When firſt light ſhined in his breaſt,
This Sonne then did he ſee,
The glory of his lovelineſſe,
He counts his Sonne to be,
By light of this Sonne he generates,
He ſtands ſtill in his ſight,
And by the ſpirit of life and love,
He yeelds to him his right;
Which is to owne him as his joy,
The fountaine of his pleaſure,
Where all his glories are envolv'd,
A Magazin of treaſure,
By him he frameth all his thoughts,
And comes to underſtand
How all deſignes may come to light,
And proſper in his hand.
In him before time did begin,
He ſaw a goodly ſpace,
The length is call'd eternity,
In which he runnes his race,
And in all ages ſhewes himſelfe,
As beſt becomes his Grace;
That ſo the wiſe in myſtery,
At length may know his face;
In him he walk'd by pleaſant thoughts,
Throughout the world ſo wide,
And though no world was to be found,
Yet Saints he there eſpi'd.
In him the childrens lives were wrapt,
A place of ſureſt ſtay,
That them he might know where to finde,
Upon their happy day,
By vertue of the ſpirit of power,
In him all joyes doe finde;
And ſeeing this reſolved is,
For ever in his minde,
Upon him wholly for to ſpend
His life, and his delight,
And in thoſe pleaſures to rejoyce,
As armies of his might.
This is his life, herein he joyes,
Here is his hearts deſire.
Here doth he find beauties combin'd,
Moſt purely and entire.
This being ſo, now doth he thinke,
How he his name may raiſe,
And ſo together with his Sonne,
Get an eternall praiſe,
That him he might ſet forth to all,
He ſends him in diſguiſe,
And vailes his glory with our fleſh,
The world againe to riſe.
Herein is Wiſdomes chiefeſt part,
Declared and made knowne,
That ſo the counſels of the world,
Might quite be overthrowne.
Who would have thought the Sonne of God,
A mortall death muſt die,
And by his deadly death us bring,
To Immortality.
How many troupes of enemies flocke
Againſt him for to warre,
And in the combat him to foyle
by many a cruell ſcarre?
But in this battell who was ſlaine?
Was't he, or was't his foes,
If he, it was to riſe againe
To bring them freſher woes,
The prince of darkneſſe Captaine was
The chiefeſt in this fight,
Who from his nature hath his name,
His workes are blacke as night.
With him comes ſinne, comes death, comes loſſe,
Their force they doe unite,
That ſo their blowes and darts on him,
Together at once might light.
Now, now, or never ſaith this Prince,
I muſt me conqueſt bring,
Or elſe a captive I muſt be
Under this mighty King.
This fight was ſore to fleſhly view,
All might have thought the day,
It had beene loſt, and we been caught
In hels hands for a prey,
But when all fleſhly ſtrength did faile,
Then was the chiefeſt time,
For righteouſneſſe to ſhew it ſelfe,
Moſt glorious and ſublime.
The glory of the God-head great,
Upon this Chriſt our King,
Did reſt, and eke it ſelfe diſplay,
And there in triumph ſing,
There truth and mercy met at once,
Each ſtrove to get the day,
But being reconcil'd at length
To other each did ſay,
We'll joyne our ſweetneſſe and our might
And goe with glorious traine,
That ſo we may revive and bleſſe
Thoſe that were counted ſlaine.
How mighty did the Godhead flow,
about our Saviour ſweet,
And by it did preſent himſelfe,
a ſacrifice moſt meet.
For great Jehovah to delight
and pleaſe himſelfe withall.
When he beholds his ſouldiers ſtout,
led bondage into thrall.
Theſe ſouldiers are his Attributes,
each glorious for to ſee,
Well furniſh'd both with skill and ſtrength,
to make his enemies flee.
Where's death become with all his powers,
and principalities?
'Tis gone to hell, and hath it's doome
with darkneſſe and with lies.
The Prince of Hell is now adjudg'd
in chaines of wrath to lie,
And by theſe chaines perplexed ſore,
throughout Eternity.
Who was it girt himſelfe with zeale,
or who with fury came,
To tread the Wine-preſſe of Gods wrath,
and ſo to get a name.
What power was that which conquer'd ſinne,
whoſe Wiſedome made it's way,
Or can you tell where thoſe joyes are,
which hath skarr'd griefe away?
Hee's call'd, by name Emanuell,
and well he may ſo be.
In that he left his royall Throne,
to dwell with me and thee.
The world it was a place whereas
his glory he might ſhow,
And yet though glory did appeare,
few men of it did know.
The humane nature was a vaile,
which kept light from our eyes,
And yet that was the ordinance,
by which our bliſſe did riſe,
Here was the wonder of a God,
a thing ſo meane and low,
Should bring to paſſe ſuch mighty things,
and all his Counſell ſhow.
Here's wiſdome in a myſtery,
and power uncontrol'd,
The Fountaines deepe, and ſundry Springs
of life you may behold,
For by his death to God we are
reſtored backe again,
And now our enemies wear our bands,
and vext are with our paine.
What pangs, what woe's, what miſeries,
muſt they be ſure to have?
Now death is dead, and guilt is fled,
and griefe lies in his grave.
Where's darkneſſe now become that cloath'd
it ſelfe with blackneſſe hue,
Can it out-brave the light of life,
and it's bright beames eſchew?
If ſo, ſtand forth you helliſh powers,
where are your ſpels to charme?
Or ſhew ſome nurcery that is new,
to bring unlook't for harme.
What is your wit quite loſt at once,
can none take us away,
Out of the hands of him whom we
doe count our ſtrength and ſtay?
If by his death ſo great a loſſe,
his enemie doth endure.
His life muſt be a greater croſſe,
and they muſt beare it ſure,
His Saints are ſet at liberty,
as men from death ſet free.
Their joyes before them faſt doe ſtand,
and in theſe joyes they ſee
Their Saviour compaſt with the ſtrength
and height of fulleſt bliſſe.
The Father with his glory bright,
with many ſmiles him kiſſe.
And thus he ſaith, my ſonne, I lay
the charge upon thy hand.
The ſubſtance of the Godhead great,
is thine for to command.
I know no joy, no reſt, no peace,
but what I have in thee.
I am thy ſtrength, thou art my might,
by thee I looke to ſee
The glory of my beauties faire,
abroad the world to ſpeake,
And ſo to cauſe things high and ſtrong,
to be eſteemed weake.
All fleſh muſt fall before thy face,
though ſeemingly 'tis gay.
Yet when thy glory doth ariſe,
i'ts beauty fals away.
My treaſure all 'its in thy breaſt,
the incombs of my praiſe
Returnes, according to the power
and wiſedome of thy wayes.
The honour that the Father hath,
'tis gained by the Sonne.
The Spirit worketh all in all,
and ſo their praiſe is one.
The childrens life is hid in him,
this life is all things ſweet,
Concentred in his breaſt, the which
makes him a Saviour meet.
There's light moſt full, there's truth moſt ſtrong,
and glory as a flame,
And holineſſe amongſt the reſt,
ſhewes forth his mighty name.
The Image of the Fathers face,
in him is ſeene moſt bright.
And whoſoever doth it ſee,
lives in the cleareſt light.
By it they come to underſtand
the Father and the Sonne.
All that they have, all that they are,
to be entirely one.
The life the which each other lives,
is in the ſelfe-ſame good.
The Father is all beauties rare,
the Sonne this underſtood.
He dwelleth in his boſome ſweet,
and knoweth well his minde.
Hee's call'd by name his Counſellor
and by him he doth finde,
How Wiſdomes glory may be ſeene,
in things that are obſcure;
And when he hath no footſteps ſeene,
then are his wayes full ſure.
This glorious myſtery is ſo high,
there is none can it finde,
If any of it knoweth ought,
'tis he ſaith I am blinde.
It's more then ſixteene hundred yeares,
when firſt it had a tongue.
And though ſo long it hath remain'd,
it ſtill is freſh and young.
The age hereof Eternity,
it doth make knowne, and wee
Shall then by light taſte and feele life,
when Conquerors we ſhall be.
Who ſhall declare the Fathers minde,
unleſſe it be the Sonne,
And when men come to know the ſame,
by it their hearts are wonne,
To dwell where grace and love doth meet,
and ſo to finde a reſt,
Even in his boſome where they know
they are ſecure and bleſt.
There are they fill'd with all delights
their Cup doth overflow,
Their comforts never die nor flie,
but flouriſh ſtill and grow.
Though they like to Leviathan,
could drinke up Rivers wide,
Yet doth theſe vaſt eternall deepes
in their full ſtrength abide.
There are they ever meaſuring out
theſe everlaſting meaſures,
And by their labour they doe finde,
new Springs of living pleaſures,
The world and all it's joyes are loſt,
when they in him are found,
They ſee all Shadowes fly away,
their reſt is true and ſound.
Was ever any taken up,
into his boſome ſweet,
And did not finde Loves glorious face,
with ſmiles him kiſſe and greet,
Nor ever lay there any ſpace
but had their face with glory
Moſt richly deckt, and in their hearts
there written was a ſtory
Of things moſt rich, moſt high, moſt pure,
myſterious, and unknowne,
The world it cannot underſtand,
becauſe they love their owne.
The ſpirit doth transforme and mould
into the image bright,
Both of the Father and the Son
by both their pow'r and light.
All theſe which are by glorious beames
drawne up into the Son
Lives in the midſt of laſting light,
where life doth purely run
More clear than any chryſtall ſtream,
more ſtrong than any tide,
The ſweetneſſe of this water pure,
invites men to abide,
Where they may drink and be refreſht,
and in themſelves may know,
This fountain runs their ſprings doth riſe,
and plentifully flow.
The truth of all is ſurely this,
that Ieſus now is ſet
And made a Prince of high degree,
to ſhew Gods glory great:
The Father truſts him with his ſtock
and fulneſſe of his ſtore,
He hath the rule of all he hath,
he hath not any more,
This Ieſus is our brother dear,
he hath our portions ſure,
Hee's true, hee's wiſe, hee's ſtrong withall,
in him they are ſecure:
He like a nurſe doth cheriſh us
by drops as we can bear,
And when we come to greater ſtrength,
then greater is our ſhare:
From him we ſuck, in him we grow,
into his armes we flee,
There are we compaſt with all joyes,
and in theſe joyes we ſee
Our names, our natures, and our life,
moſt clear, moſt pure, and bright.
The truth and glory of all we are,
even by the ſpirit of light;
This ſpirit ſearcheth deep into
things that very high.
The length and breadth of glorious ſtore,
it hath before its eye.
That ſearcheth out the utmoſt drop
which in the Ocean dwels:
And by its mighty force and power
all noyſome things expels,
This ſpirit like a Dove moſt ſwift
from Paradice doth flie.
And from our Saviour brings us newes
of matters ſweet and high,
Whereby we come to underſtand
God will not live alone,
He dwels with Chriſt, and Chriſt in us,
and ſo we dwell in one,
O this is that which fils our hearts
with ſinging and with praiſe,
That what he is, that we ſhall be
to 'ternity of dayes.
Let each Saint think all that they have
it commeth from the Son,
Their glory and their flouriſhing ſtate
comes by his arme alone.
None can ſee God in Ieſus Chriſt
but muſt be forc'd to yeeld,
And lay all armes downe at his feet,
and ſay he hath the field.
Can any ſtand againſt that thing
which is moſt fair and gay,
And hath the power of lovelineſſe
to win the heart away?
From lies, from falſhoods, and from dreams,
from many deaths and ſhowers,
And from the hands of iron bands,
and from all dolefull houres.
Then do not fear you Saints moſt dear
if that you know the Son
You do the Fathers face, and love
both ſee and eke are won
To dwell, to ſtay, to reſt, to ſing,
in him, and to his praiſe,
And eke to ſacrifice your ſelves,
unto his fame alwayes.
When others ſpend their time in vain,
and fill themſelves with fire,
The which is call'd the wrath of God
that hot conſuming ire.
They know not God nor yet his Son,
where all content doth lie,
And therefore are they bound in chaines
of woe and miſery.
You Saints weep ore the world that's loſt,
they know not where they go.
Though they be blinde you know right well
the ground of all their woe.
Oh do not let eternall flames
for ever men deſtroy:
Becauſe like fools a moments time
they will vain thoughts enjoy.
Shew them our Saviour where he ſits
that ſo they may ariſe,
And finde much wealth and reſt in him,
and ſo vain wayes deſpiſe.
But if the world will not you hear,
yet ſtill run you your race,
You ſhall at laſt both get a crowne
and live in glorious grace.
Above the world, all cares, all fears
which vext you with their wiles,
Your toyl's now done, your joyes begun,
you are where nought defiles.
A ſhort ſong of Love.
LOve is the flame that Princes have
ſtill kindling in their breaſt,
No man can live but he muſt love,
or elſe be void of reſt.
The riſe, the ſtocke, the root it hath
doth ſpring from ſomething good;
All its deſires are as flaming fires
when this is underſtood,
As rivers run over all the world,
their noiſe with fame doth ring,
And haſteneth ever to returne
where firſt they had their ſpring,
And when the Ocean drinks them in,
they quiet are again:
And in their kinde they live as if
they freed were from pain:
So love it runs with ſtreams moſt ſtrong
over hils and mountains all,
It will not fear what force is nere,
it overrunneth all.
And in the fountain of all blis,
it ſets it ſelfe moſt ſure,
Rejoycing in thoſe mighty waves,
on which it rides ſecure:
'Tis lovelines that love will owne
to be a fellow meet
In it to reſt, that to imbrace
with ſmiles and kiſſes ſweet,
Loves labour, pain, and all it hath
is ever how to pleaſe
The object; and in doing this
To give it ſelfe moſt eaſe;
'Tis ever burning, never conſum'd,
and ſoaring very high;
By flames of glory it doth live
in full proſperity:
Stand forth all powers that can be thought,
ſee if you can it ſever
From truth, from beauty, and from ſtrength
where it will dwell for ever.
This love is kinde, and bountifull,
and freely will beſtow
All that it hath it ſelfe to boot,
that ſo it ſelfe may grow
More lovely, fair, and excellent
ſtill in the objects eye.
If that is pleaſed, it is at eaſe,
and feels no miſerie.
Who knowes how firſt it had its riſe?
Who gave to it its name?
If any did, it muſt be one
that knew its worth and fame.
It's God that ſaith his Name is Love,
and well may he ſo be.
Becauſe in him all glories are
met in an unity.
Light life and love is one in him,
they all grow up together.
Though knowne to us by ſeverall names,
they each accord with either.
He knowes all beauties in him are,
his life is this to ſee.
Then needs muſt love triumph and joy,
which makes this harmony,
Love walks in every piece of joy,
where ever it doth finde,
It will needs reſt in glories breaſt,
and there contents its minde.
Whht mortall man can have this love
to lie within his breaſt,
But muſt withall ſee lovelineſſe
in which he takes his reſt;
And whereſoever this appeares,
he growes up in deſire:
In this he thinke himſelfe moſt bleſt,
and followes it intire.
But man is blinde, how little he
of holineſſe doth know.
Truth's weakly planted in his heart,
and ſlowly it doth grow;
And hence it comes to paſſe that we
live in ſuch low deſires:
The earth like to a mountain thicke
doth hide theſe heavenly fires.
If you would have your heart a ſpring,
a fountain, and a well,
And have the mighty waves of love
above their banks to ſwell.
If you would ever ſearching be
into the trueſt treaſure,
And finde where love had firſt a ſeat,
and face of ſweeteſt pleaſure.
If ever you would lovely be,
though in the Saints eſteem.
And judge of all things true and right,
how ever men do deem,
Then muſt you know that all things good
doth from the fountain come,
And tides of love will flow amain
and make a ſpacious room
Within thy heart, and thou ſhalt ſee,
all that thine heart can wiſh.
Love live, ſin die, life reigne, death flie,
what joy is like to this?
Make haſte ye Saints, O do not ſtay,
where nought can you ſecure.
Fly to the armes of lovely love,
where joyes are clear and pure.
FINIS.
End of the text · John Greene, A Brief Unveiling of God and Mans Glory (1641)