The Glorious Lover, Book 1 · Chapter 8
CHAP. VIII.
Shewing how the Lord Jeſus died in the Sinner's ſtead. Such was his love, and yet the Soul an Enemy at that time to him, and hated him. A full diſcovery of Chriſt's bloody Paſſion, enough to make a heart of ſtone to melt. The Prince gives up the ghoſt. Death the King of Terrors, inſults over Jeſus, Prince of Light. Death is threatned with Death: ſhewing alſo what fear there was amongſt the Devils, leſt the Prince ſhould riſe again, and overcome Death. A ſecond Council held in Hell: the Devils, tremble. Death ſubdued. Heathen Oracles ceaſe. The Devil's deſtroyed upon the Prince's reſurrection, and put to open ſhame. Joy in Heaven. Angels ſing. Saints rejoyce. The end of the Firſt Part.
BUT to proceed, Will you lift up your Eyes,
And view the Rage of Helliſh Enemies?
The final troubles of the Prince of Light
Are coming on▪ Behold a frightful ſight!
A multitude with Clubs, and Swords, and Spears
About his Sacred Perſon now appears.
This wretched Rabble's come on a deſign,
Which wounds and breaks this ſtony heart of mine
To think upon't; behold, they are conducted
By the grand Traitor, and by him inſtructed
How to proceed on this great Enterpriſe,
Which he by Helliſh power did deviſe.
Arm'd, as you heard, they ſeiz'd on him, as if
He had indeed been ſome notorious Thief.
Fond men! If you this Prince's Nature knew,
Your Weapons are too many, or too few.
As Man, ſo meek, you need no reſcue fear;
As God, ſo ſtrong, he can in pieces tear
A thouſand Troops that ſhould approach him near,
Of which a preſent Inſtance did appear.
Some little rays of his dread Deitie
He cauſed to break forth, and ſuddenly
They ſtagger'd, and fell backwards on the ground,
That they might ſee he quickly could confound
Them utterly, and lay them at his feet,
But that he ſaw it better to ſubmit
Unto his Father's Will, and take the Cup
Which was prepared for him to drink up.
But they recov'ring ſtrength, got up again,
Regardleſs of all dread, and now amain
Reſume their purpoſe, and with wicked hands
Take hold of him, w…o Heav'n & Earth Commands.
He's taken Priſoner, and ſtrongly bound,
Who in one moments time could quite confound ſend.
The Univerſe, and all that him offend
Down to Hell's bottom quick with vengeance
Yet like a Lamb he's to the ſlaughter led,
And, as a Malefactor, ſuffered.
Moſt dreadful ſorrows did his Soul indure
That peace and Joy for her he might procure;
To bring his purpoſe to an happy end,
He manifeſts himſelf indeed a Friend,
A bounteous Friend, who thinks his Life not dear,
But freely lays it down, doth freely bear
The ſtroke of Juſtice, that he might recover
Her forfeit Life again. Oh! Sacred Lover!
Oh! Matchleſs Love and Grace! Let every Eye
Open its Sluces, draw its Fountains dry.
If he for us ſuch bitter ſorrows felt,
Then let the thoughts of his ſtrong Paſſion melt
Our ſin-congealed hearts, our hearts of ſtone.
What was the reaſon why this Sacred One
Did bear all this? Were not our ſins the cauſe?
He ſuffers, but 'twas we had broke the Laws.
Is he betray'd to Death? Weep o're his Herſe,
who only di'd our Death for to reverſe.
You Sin-ſick Souls, think on his bloody Paſſion,
And then take up this bitter Lamentation:
Dear God! I ſin'd, and did a Saviour need,
And muſt the Lord of Life and Glory bleed!
Ah! muſt his dear and precious blood be ſpilt,
To free me from my vile and horrid Guilt?
Didſt thou, ſweet Lord, my heavy burthen bear?
And ſhall not I lament, nor ſhed a Tear?
Shall not my hard and flinty heart diſſolve,
To think how nought but thy own blood could ſalve
My feſter'd wounds? What heart is ſo condens'd,
That cannot by theſe thoughts be influenc'd
And mov'd unto remorſe and great Contrition,
I'th ſenſe of the Lord Jeſus's Crucifixion▪
They hal'd him (bound) unto the High Prieſts Hall,
Where Prieſts and Council did for witneſs call.
They ſearch'd about for ſuch, but none could find,
Who did agree together in one mind.
They us'd him like a Thief, put him to ſhame,
Who bore it with great patience, like a Lamb.
They blindfold him in a diſgraceful ſort,
And ignominiouſly made him their ſport.
They ſmote him on the face, pluckt off his hair,
And bid him propheſy then who they were
That did him ſtrike, that ſo they might thereby
His Office of a Prophet vilifie.
His own dear Servants in this diſmal Day
Did him forſake, and from him fly away.
They, they in whom his Soul took ſweet delight,
His curſed Foes did ſo amaze and fright,
That they diſown'd him too, and left him all
To ſtand alone, or otherwiſe to fall.
Yea, Peter, who would have his Lord confide
In him above the reſt, ſtoutly deny'd
He ever knew him; nay, and furthermore,
To put it out of doubt, he curſt and ſwore.
Ah! What is man when God withdraws his hand?
A Peter then one moment cannot ſtand.
This doubtleſs did add grief unto his Heart,
To ſee his own Diſciples to depart,
And leave him thus in his Adverſitie,
When in their ſtead it was he came to die.
He after this bore much rebuke and ſhame,
Scoffs, blows, reproaches, ſtripes, oh who can name
The many Cruelties he underwent
Before his painful Death, and not lament?
They cru'lly ſmite him on his precious Cheeks,
Which he with patience bears, and never ſeeks
To free himſelf from this their Inſolence,
Although he knew his ſpotleſs Innocence.
O gracious Lord! how, how waſt thou abus'd,
Unjuſtly judg'd, and falſely too accus'd?
Accus'd as guilty of ſome grievous fact,
Who thoughtſt no Evil, none didſt ever act?
No ſtain nor ſpot of ſin was found in thee,
Though thus thou ſuffer'ſt for Iniquity.
The Injuries which thou that Night did'ſt bear,
How great, my God! how numberleſs they were?
When he had paſt away that tedious Night,
Early next morning they with Helliſh ſpight,
Like ſome great Malefactor, him preſent
To Pontius Pilate: where with innocent
And pleaſant Countenance he then did ſtand,
To know what 'twas of him they did demand.
Then with an humble Silence held his peace,
Which made the ſury of his Foes increaſe.
Next was he unto wicked Herod ſent,
Who at his preſence ſeemed much content,
Hoping he might ſome Miracle behold,
Becauſe he had been of ſtrange Wonders told.
But he that knew the ſecrets of all Hearts,
Who tries the Reins and views the inward parts,
Knew well his curious, but preſumptuous mind,
Was only unto wickedneſs inclin'd.
Chriſt Anſwer'd not when he lookt for Replies.
Which made King Herod and his men deſpiſe
Our precious Lord, the Prince of Peace, whilſt he
Became the pattern of Humilitie.
Thus Sinners contradict, and dare reprove
The Lord of Life, who quickly could remove
The lofty from their Seats, and them confound;
But nought but Love and Mercy doth abound.
This was the Day of his Humiliation,
He's firſt abas'd, then comes his Exaltation.
But, oh! that ever men ſhould be ſo vile,
To ſmite thoſe Lips that never utter'd guile!
He at whoſe great Command the Seas were ſtill,
Is now commanded by each Tyrant's will.
He…s ſent to Herod, then ſent back again
Unto the Judgment-Seat; But oh! what pain
Did he indure there by moſt wicked men, Pen
What Heart can think, what Tongue expreſs, what
Can ſet it forth? Their ſacrilegious Hands
Bound him about with ſtrong and cruel bands:
They mock'd and did deride him ſhamefully,
And then aloud ſet up a curſed Cry,
Hold, hold him faſt, deliver Barabbas,
Who a notorious Malefactor was.
A Barabbas is now prefer'd before
Him, whom the glorious Angels do adore.
A Murderer ſhall ſpared, ſaved be,
When JESVS ſhall be hanged on a Tree.
With torturing whips they ſcourged him moſt ſore,
Until his fleſh was dy'd with Purple Gore.
O dreadful diſmal Cup! what heart can think
On what he underwent, and's fleſh not ſhrink?
The Blood that once run through his ſacred Veins,
Is now let out by Soul-tormenting pains,
And all the bluſhing Pavement gilds, not ſtains.
Ah! don't you ſee how it fell trickling down,
Yet unto him was no compaſſion ſhown.
The Blood that iſſued forth from every wound,
Deſcends in pearly drops unto the ground.
Oh Earth! that didſt receive that holy Blood,
Nor fruitful Nile, nor Tagus golden Blood
Could ever yield like Vertue, or ſuch good;
Ne…re ſuch a ſtream did water thee before,
Nor ſhall again refreſh thee any more.
Nor were theſe cruel barb'rous ſcourgings all
That he endur'd in that remorſleſs Hall;
For after this they clothed him in ſcorn
With Purple, when his fleſh was laſht and torn,
And in deriſion of his Princely State,
Their impious hands a Crown of thorns did plate,
Preſſing it on his gracious Head with pain,
Till Sacred Drops did iſſue forth again
In ruful ſort, as they had done before,
Spreading his precious Neck and Face all o're.
Thus like a Lamb amongſt thoſe Wolves he ſtood,
From head to foot beſprinkled o're with blood.
His Kingly Office further to debaſe,
'Stead of the Scepter due to Judah's Race,
They put a Reed in's hand, then kneel before him,
And in Deriſion feignedly adore him.
Thus, thus did they the Sacred Prince abuſe,
Crying in ſcorn—All hail, King of the Jews:
Then in Diſdain they ſpit in's his lovely Face.
Could Devils offer God a worſe Diſgrace?
Oh depth of Love alone, that knows no bounds,
To ſuffer ſuch dire ſtripes, ſuch mocks & wounds
'Twas we that ſin'd, 'twas thou that ſufferſt ſhame,
To free us from the guilt. Oh let thy Name
Thy Sacred Name for ever honour'd be,
Who thus waſt us'd, to ſet poor Sinners free.
But yet, alas! theſe ſufferings were not all,
More bitter things did unto him befall.
Off next they took the Robe, his own put on,
And now as if their malice freſh begun,
Not ſatisfy'd their God for to deride,
They loud cry'd out, Let him be Crucify'd.
His Blood they thirſt for. Pilate gives conſent,
Though Conſcience told him he was Innocent,
And had deſerved neither Death nor Bands,
Yet up he gives him to the Rabbles hands.
He knew of malice they had brought him thither,
Yet he and they at laſt combine together
'T imbrew their guilty hands in guiltleſs Blood,
Who never did them harm, but always good.
Rather than Pilate will diſpleaſe the Jews,
Hee'l ſtifle Conſcience, utterly refuſe
All Admonitions; though his boſom Friend
A timely warning unto him did ſend,
Uſes Intreaties, urges Arguments,
But nothing would prevail, nothing prevents
Their wicked purpoſe. Sentence being paſt,
Unto his Execution now they haſt.
Though he was wounded very much before,
His fleſh, his Virgin fleſh, with ſtripes made ſore,
Yet they upon his Martyr'd ſhoulders lay
His heavy Croſs; till fainting by the way
By reaſon of th' intolerable pain
His bleeding wounds procured, they conſtrain
A Country-man of Cyrene (who did paſs
Along that way) to bear his pond'rous Croſs.
And coming up to diſmal Golgotha,
Without remorſe of Conſcience, dread, or awe,
They ſtill perſiſt in putting him to Death,
A Death the worſt that e're ſtopt humane Breath;
The cruel Death o…th Croſs, matchleſs for pain,
And by God's Curſe moſt liable to ſhame.
To cauſe the Juſt to die was crueltie,
But Crucifixion's more than 'tis to die.
Prodigious Rage! ſtrange metamorphos'd mind!
What? kill the Lord, who was to you ſo kind!
What was his Crime? what his ſo great offence?
That not contented to remove him hence
By violent Death, but you muſt look about
Whereby to find exquiſite torments out?
The vileſt wretch that ever did draw breath,
Or in the ſtricteſt ſenſe deſerved Death,
Could never meet with more ſeveritie
From barb'rous Foes and brutiſh Tyranny.
He meets with no compaſſion, every heart,
And every hand is ſet to throw a Dart.
So far from ſhame in this their villany,
They chuſe for time to act the Tragedy,
Their chiefeſt Feaſt, when to Jeruſalem
From every part thouſands of people came;
Then, then they choſe this curſed work to do.
That he the greater ſhame might undergo.
When Prieſt and Pilate finiſht had their Court.
Dear Jeſus muſt be fetcht to make them ſport.
And now behold (if yet thy delug'd Eyes
Can ſtay to ſee ſo ſad a Sacrifice)
Behold him lift up on the curſed Tree.
Expos'd to Torture, Death, and Infamy.
His Arms ſpread wide, as ready to imbrace
His bitter'ſt Foes, if they'd accept his Grace;
Quite through each hand & foot ſharp nails they drive,
And fix him there to wait for Death alive.
Hanging betwixt two Thieves, Numbred among
Tranſgreſſors by the giddy partial Throng:
For paſſers-by did rail on him with ſcorn,
Wagging their heads, who ought rather to mourn.
With taunts and ſcoffs the vulgar him abuſe,
Prompted by the Chief Prieſt, and barb'rous Jews.
And when he thirſts through his exceſſive pains,
Behold what favour at their hands he gains;
All they afford to quench his drought withal,
Was Vinegar, mixed with bitter Gall.
Was ever ſuch a perfect hatred known?
No Dram of pity, but all malice ſhown.
He that for them had Water turn'd to Wine,
And ſhown his Pow'r and Charity Divine;
Now Wine, nor Water now could be allow'd
T'aſſwage his thirſt from this ungrateful Croud:
But into 's tender ſide they thruſt a Spear,
From whence there came both blood & water clear.
Thus hand, and foot, and head, and every part,
They pierce and wound, for to encreaſe his ſmart.
Ah! ſee that ſtream wch from his Heart-blood flows,
The precious Balm and Cure of all our woes!
Each pious Soul, which truly doth believe,
Its Soveraign Vertue freely may receive.
One drop of that moſt Sacred Blood is worth
Ten thouſand Thrones & Kingdoms of the Earth.
When you by Sin do ſee your ſelves undone,
Think on that Blood which from his Side did run.
Thoſe cordial Drops apply'd unto thy heart,
Will heal thy Soul, and cleanſe thy inward part.
Ah! canſt thou of Chriſt's diſmal paſſion hear,
And not diſſolve thy Soul into a Tear?
But to return—There's ſomething ſtill behind,
Which makes ſtrange meltings in my grieved mind,
That's worſe than all the reſt, oh hear his moan,
And how his poor diſtreſſed Soul doth groan!
His Father hides his face, that gracious Eye
Caſts forth an angry frown, which made him cry
(After he had theſe bitter torments felt
From cruel hands, and found his Soul to melt,
His ſpirits fail, and wounded heart to break)
Why, why, my God? Oh why doſt thou forſake
Me in this needful hour? Hard is the caſe
When thou, my God, from me ſhalt hide thy face.
My Servants who forſook me, are but Duſt,
Poor fleſh and blood, alas! what ſtay, what truſt
Is there in man? the beſt of men are frail;
Such as conſide in them, their ſtrength will fail.
But, ah! My Truſt, my Hope, my Confidence,
Thou, thou that art my Rock and ſafe Defence,
Even thou, my God! O thou, O thou haſt left me,
And this at laſt has of all Peace bereft me.
Whilſt Souls can ſee their Intereſt in their God,
They can bear up under the ſharpeſt Rod:
But when thy face is hid, as 'tis from me,
They ſink, they die, they die Eternally.
Thus, thus the Prince of Peace in ſore diſtreſs,
His bitter moan doth unto God expreſs.
Great depths of ſorrow did oppreſs his Soul,
When his ſad portion thus he did condole.
He ſaw himſelf forſaken and forlorn,
When in our ſtead this anguiſh great was born.
That which was due for our Iniquity,
Did heavy on our gracious Saviour lie.
For Juſtice ſpar'd not, but laid on her Hand,
Whilſt in the room and ſtead he ſeeks to ſtand
Of the poor Soul, he came from Heaven to ſave;
Juſtice, alas! will the laſt farthing have.
The torments Saints have born's another thing
From what befel their Soveraign Lord & King.
His Spirit's gracious, great, magnanimous,
Yet ne're was any Soul diſtreſſed thus.
That much renowned holy Martyr, Stephen,
He had ſo glorious a proſpect from Heaven,
As fill'd his Soul brim-full of Conſolation,
And by that means with joy he bore his paſſion.
Should I attempt to walk the ſpacious Field
Of inſtances, how many would it yield,
Where flames of Fire were like to Beds of Roſes
Through Heav'nly Rays, wch gloriouſly compoſes
Their ſpirits ſo, that they in Triumph ſing,
When half-conſum'd in Fire, they felt no ſting.
God ſmiles, and Heav'n appears ſo clear & bright,
All fears and terrors were extinguiſht quite.
But he who for our ſakes his Life laid down,
Is forc'd to bear his Father's angry frown;
And in our ſtead he felt his Indignation,
The bittereſt part of all his bitter Paſſion.
How heavy is that ſtroke, how ſharp that Rod,
That's lifted up by men, laid on by God?
When Heav'n and Earth, and Hell do all agree
To lay on ſtripes with greatſt ſeveritie?
That grief, that pain, that anguiſh muſt be ſore;
And yet all this for us bleſt Jeſus bore.
Who that beholds Heav'ns glorious lamp of Light
When in his ſtrength, obſcur'd from our ſight
By the dark body of the pale-fac'd Moon,
Making black ſhades of Night appear at Noon,
But would conclude from thence the Sun were gone,
And had forſaken quite our Horizon?
And yet we know he's but eclips'd a while,
And ſoon will lend the World another ſmile;
Diſperſe thoſe ſhades that counterfeited Night,
And fill the Earth again with ſplendor bright.
Lo, thus our Sun in his Celeſtial Sphear
Is near his ſetting, yet but lend your Ear
Unto the Voice, th'amazing Voice of Heaven,
You'l find an univerſal notice given
Unto the world when this bright Sun went down,
Heav'ns lightfoot Herauld quickly makes it known.
Chriſt lies a bleeding, nailed on the Tree,
And now the univerſal World ſhall ſee
Heaven act a part in this black Tragedy,
The Worlds great Eye, the natural Sun, whoſe Rays
Each day throughout the Univerſe diſplays
From Eaſt to Weſt, from North to South, his face
Viſiting and refreſhing every place,
No ſooner doth he ſpy the Prince near dead,
But ſtraightway he withdraws his bluſhing Head.
That horrid ſight bright Sol abhor'd to ſee,
And hides his face from Noon till after Three.
At Three Chriſt's matchleſs Torments made him cry,
Eli, Eli, lama ſabachthani.
Then was the Temple Vail rent quite aſunder,
The earth did ſhake, the rocks did roar like thunder,
The Clouds grew thick, and ſuch as ſcatter'd were,
Conjoin'd to darken all the Hemiſphear.
Thus for three hours Darkneſs great remain'd,
All hearts now tremble, every ſpirit's pain'd.
Th' Aſtronomers, who ſtarry motions trace,
And read Earth's wonders in Heav'ns various face,
(Euſebius, and other Authors write)
Were much amaz'd at that unuſual ſight;
Their Learning could no natural Cauſes ſpy,
Nor give a Reaſon of that Prodigie.
The Moon being then at full, juſt oppoſite,
Could not in Natures courſe eclipſe Sol's Light.
'Twas ſupernatural what he ſuffered,
And that was it which fill'd them all with dread.
Some ſmote their breaſts, whilſt others in confuſion
Drew from the premiſes this juſt Concluſion,
Either the God of Nature ſuffers now
(When Sol in Sables muffles thus his brow)
Or the whole frame o'th World in a ſhort ſpace,
Will be diſſolv'd and end its painful Race.
Theſe dreadful things which then did come to paſs,
Do fully prove He the Meſſiah was.
And many when they ſaw thoſe Wonders done,
Cry'd out indeed he was God's only Son.
Had not this obvious been to every ſight
A real thing, with what great eaſe then might
The Foes of Chriſt and Chriſtianity,
Detected all as horrid Forgery?
But matt'r of Fact being ſo very clear,
The Jews and Heathens thereby ſilenc'd were.
Thus he yields up at laſt his painful breath,
And for a while lay conquered by Death.
Conquer'd, ſaid I! forbear my laviſh Muſe,
Recall that word, and be not ſo profuſe.
What, ſhall we ſay, The Lord of Life is dead?
'Tis but a ſlumber, he's not conquered.
He only for a while Retreat hath made,
To bring his Foes into an Ambuſcade,
And ſoon will riſe more gloriouſly Array'd.
Thus did the Glory of the World lay down
His precious Life, to purchaſe a rich Crown
Of Life and Glory for his Spouſe, whom he
Found under Wrath, condemn'd eternally,
Who had receiv'd that Sentence full of Ire,
Goe, go thou Wretch into eternal Fire.
But he has bail'd her from Hell's gaping Jaws,
And ſatisfy'd Juſtice's ſtricteſt Laws
By this his Death, where he in her ſtead ſtood,
And ranſom'd her even with his deareſt Blood.
But hark, my Muſe! What Triumph doſt thou hear?
What Voice is that hoarſe ſounding in mine Ear?
'Tis Death, doubtleſs 'tis Death that ghaſtly King,
Who over Chriſt doth now inſulting ſing;
Now he has got him down, I prethee hear
How he o're him doth vaunt and domineer.
The King of Terror's boaſting Triumph over Chriſt whilſt he lay in the Grave.
King of Terrors.
What am I? or from whence? For though I be,
Yet know I not my ſelf; nor why to me
The mightieſt Monarchs bend. I rule, I raign,
And am the High and Lofty's Soveraign.
All tremble at the thoughts of my grim face,
They look, they run, yet cannot find a place
To hide themſelves. My Powr's very great,
Yet know I not who ſet me in this Seat.
There's none that live, have liv'd, or ever may,
But I o're them an awful Scepter ſway.
But, oh! what kind of ſubject have I here?
A Subject, t' whom no Monarch is a Peer;
Ah! how I smile to ſee't; I'le never fear
Being worſted now. Alas! doſt thou ſubmit?
Art thou likewiſe brought down unto my feet?
Who's able my dread Power to withſtand;
Since thou canſt not eſcape my pow'rful hand?
Now I have ſeiz'd thee, be aſſur'd that I
Will keep thee down, for ever thou ſhalt lie
In the dark Regions of eternal Night.
Lo! here, proud Mortals, an amaſing ſight!
What can't I do, ſince he that made the Day,
By my ſtrong hand is turned into clay?
If thou can'ſt not thy ſelf from me deliver,
The hope of Creature-man is gone for ever.
None out of theſe cloſe Regions can repair,
Nor re-ſalute again the ambient Air.
I never did ſo great a Conqueſt gain,
O what a mighty Monarch I have ſlain!
Now, now let me be crown'd victoriouſly!
For what is done, which none could do but I.
Who dares my Triumphs leſſen or defer,
Since I am now a perfect Conquerour?
Here, here, Great Prince, with me in this dark Cell
My Captive thou with other Kings ſhalt dwell.
Prince of Light.
Thou proud Imperious Tyrant, prethee hear;
Don't boaſt too ſoon, nor vainly domineer.
A feeble Warriour may the Field obtain,
When his ſtrong Foe is willing to be ſlain.
My Life, proud Death, thou didſt not take away
By any ſtrength of thine: for I did lay
It freely down, as God did me command,
This made me yield my ſelf into thy hand.
King of Terrors.
I'le not contend, let that be ſo or not,
I have thee ſafe in my Dominions got;
And e're thou do return, I'le make thee know
What pow'r I have, what 'tis that I can do.
My Priſoner thou art, and here ſhalt lie
In these dark Cells unto Eternitie,
Whilſt worms on thy moſt lovely fleſh are fed,
And with Corruption thou art covered.
Prince of Light.
Stay, ſtay, pale Death, that thou canſt nev'r do,
For I muſt not the leaſt Corruption know.
King of Terrors.
Strange ſpeech! who's this? or how can this thing be?
What's in the Grave ſhall not Corruption ſee?
Though with rich Spices thou imbalm'd doſt lie,
Old hoary Time ſhall make thee putrify.
Kings fortifi'd by Lead and Searcloth's aid,
In precious heaps of fragrant Odours laid,
To ſtench and rottenneſs I ſoon betray'd.
None ever into theſe low Vaults do come,
Who can eſcape that ſad and diſmal doom,
Of being turned into Duſt;—I will
Thy mouth with filthy putrefaction fill.
The holieſt man I e're depriv'd of breath,
I turned into loathſom ſtinking Earth.
And doſt thou think thou ſhalt eſcape this fate?
No, thou muſt ſhare of all my Subjects ſtate.
Prince of Light.
Is't fit I ſhould be threatned thus by thee?
Shall Death prevail and triumph over me?
Doſt know, grim Tyrant, who 'tis thou treadſt down?
I am thy lawful Prince, and thou ſhalt own
My Soveraignty; thou muſt, O Death, ſubmit,
And yield thy ſelf, as conquer'd at my feet.
On me thou ſhalt not have thy proud deſire;
No ſooner ſhall three Days and Nights expire,
But I will make thy bonds and chains to fly,
And thereby ſpoil thy Principality.
But for thy inſolence this thou ſhalt gain,
To be thy ſelf, o're-thrown, vanquiſht and ſlain.
The tidings which I bring will make thee quake,
For I reſolve on thee Revenge to take.
O Death, I'le be thy Death, 'tis even ſo,
Thy utter ruin, and great overthrow
Is near at hand; I'le rouſe up from the Grave,
And make the ſtone to fly that's on the Cave.
Let Hell and Devils all combine to do
What's in their pow'r to ſave thee from this blow,
I mind it not; I'le tear and rend them all,
And cauſe them with great vengeance down to fall.
Captivity a Captive I will take,
And him a ſlave and Captive ever make.
The Devils fearing what would come to paſs,
Great conſternation ſtraight amongſt them was.
Their Chief amaz'd, with envious horror cryes,
And to the reſt with haſt himſelf applies.
Lucifer.
Dominions, Pow'rs of the Infernal Hoſt!
Awake, attempt with ſpeed, or all is loſt.
Death's like to loſe our great and hop'd for prey,
Secure him faſt, more Chains upon him lay.
Harklare there not ſtrange tremblings under ground
Mixt with a cry, enough for to confound
All the whole Hoſt of this amaſed Lake,
Fear ſeizes me, I quiver, oh, I quake.
What ſhall we do? make ſpeed, let him not riſe.
Help, Satan! help, canſt thou no way deviſe
To hold him under ground? now, now, or never,
I… he awake, we are undone for ever.
Should be the cords of Death to pieces burſt,
Our … will far exceed the firſt.
… all the helliſh Fiends do ſtand
Aga… … each holding up his hand;
Bew…ing … ſad fates, their hearts grow cold,
With thoughts of what they fear'd they ſhould behold,
Which was the Reſurrection from the Dead
Of him who for poor Mortals suffered.
Belzebub he cryes out to Abaddon,
Ah! what a day is this! all will be gone.
Satan doth gnaſh his teeth, perplext in mind,
Becauſe they could no more Inventions find
Their Kingdom to ſupport, cryes out, alas,
We never were before in ſuch a caſe!
Apollyon.
Ah! what a diſmal day, Great Lords, is here!
The Grave doth o'pe, that ſight doth juſt appear
Of which you talk, of which you ſtand in fear.
Now all our hopes, and expectation's gone.
Ah! who is it has rould away the ſtone?
All proves in vain that ever we have done.
We muſt our ſelves in Chains of darkneſs lie,
And be tormented to Eternitie.
Now from the Earth freſh Light doth gild the skies
Thick darkneſs vaniſhes; awake, ariſe,
Ye Mortals, and with joy open your Eyes;
Behold the morning of that long'd for Day;
The Grave doth o'pe, whilſt Devils fly away
To hide themſelves, but cannot find a place,
For Vengeance haſtens after them apace.
The firſt Day of the week is now come in,
The Glorious Prince has made an end of Sin.
See how he rouſes up from the dark Grave,
The Soul from thence, from Sin and Hell to ſave.
Ah! how the damned Spirits cry and houl,
Their fearful fall with anguiſh to condole.
Hell's Principalities are ſpoiled quite,
And all infernal Pow'rs put to flight.
See what an open ſhow is made of them,
And how great JESVS doth their Pride contemn.
See how he doth triumph over them all,
He's on his back who gave the Soul its fall.
See Death's by Death deſtroy'd; a wond'rous ſight,
Which doth the hearts of Angels much delight.
They p…y into, and wonder at this thing,
Accompliſht thus by our victorious King.
How like a ſneaking, conquer'd, ſpoiled Foe,
That's quite o…recome and brought to utter woe,
Doth Satan look. Ah, ſee the fatal Rout,
And how the …rince doth drag theſe Dogs about,
He makes a ſhow of them; Come, take a view
O'th conquer'd, bloody, baffled Helliſh Crew.
What a victorious Conqueror is here?
What Victor may with this great Prince compare?
All Warriours you admir'd heretofore,
Let them not be ſo much as thought on more.
CHSIST JESVS he is riſen from the Dead,
Sin, Wrath, Death, Hell, Devils, and all are fled.
This glorious Conqueſt o're th'infernal crew,
Is yet more plain by that which doth inſue.
Some paſſages from ancient Records ſhow
The truth of this their final overthrow.
Upon this riſing of the Prince of Light,
The Heathen Oracles were ſilenc…d quite.
Although their Prieſts and Prophets cry and call,
Henceforth they'r dumb, and anſwer not at all.
Which Accident and unexpected change
Amaz'd them all; 'twas ſo prodigious ſtrange,
It made them look about to find the cauſe
Of ſuch their ſilence and ſurpriſing pauſe.
Surely, ſaith Plutarch, they are either dead,
Or elſe Wiſe men are riſen in their ſtead,
Which in theſe days diviner Secrets know,
That Oracles before were wont to ſhow.
Yet he knew better things, and did deny.
That Spirits either could wax old, or die.
Some higher Reaſon therefore muſt find out
E're he reſolve this ſenſe-confounding doubt.
Had he conver'sd with John, he might have known
By whom, and how thoſe Gods were overthrown.
Chriſt was reveal'd (ſaith he) unto this End,
That he the works of every Helliſh Fiend
Might bring to nought, deſtroy and ruine quite,
Confining them to their eternal Night.
That this is truth, from Authors of their own
Might be made good, and evidently ſhown;
Sharp Juvenal *Sat. 6. Ceſſant oracula Delphisto ſpeak it out is pleas'd,
All Oracles at Delphos now are ceas'd.
And lofty Lucan long ſince did complain
That they their Deities invok'd in vain,
The Gods (ſaith he, †Exceſſere omnes Adytis Aris que relictis Dit, quibus Imperium hoc ſteter, …t, &c.) by whom this Empire ſtood
Are from their empty Temples now remov'd.
Their Altars too they have abandon'd quite,
And left the places of their old delight.
But with one inſtance more I may conclude,
Though I indeed might urge a multitude;
'Tis that which Plutarch doth affirm, and I
Eſteem above what e're Antiquity
Hath left recorded, or moſt curious Eyes
Can view in beſt approved Hiſtories,
Relating to the matter we have ſtated,
Which follows thus, as 'tis by him related.
About the period of Tiberius's Raign
Who at Chriſt's Death was Rome's proud Soveraign
Strange hideous Cries, ſhriekings and howlings be
Heard with amazement, in the Grecian Sea,
Complaining that their great God Pan was fled,
From whence great Con…ernations followed.
No ſooner did the louder Trump of Fame
This news of their great Pan …s Retreat proclaim,
But it was brought unto the Emperours Ears,
And unto him a certain Truth appears.
Who being ſtartled at the ſtrange Relation,
Falls with his Wiſemen into Conſultation;
Who ſought by Magick to reſolve the doubt:
Which all their Art and Skill could not find out.
Yet Chriſtians in thoſe days could quickly ſpy
The way to open the whole Myſterie.
Comparing times, they found this ſtrange Relation
Did juſt fall out upon Chriſt's Death and Paſſion;
And then concluded ſtraightway b… the …all
Of their great Pan, which ſignifieth All;
All Spirits by Chriſt's Death were ſo afflicted,
Their utter Ruin thereby was p…icted.
Yea others of their own Recon… ſtill do
Confirm the truth of this their overthrow.
How one of them conſtrain'd ſometime before
By God himſelf, their fall did thus deplore:
" An Hebrew Child that ſhall be born, will be
" The final downfal of our Dignity.
" All our uſurpt Dominions by that Child
" Shall come to nought, and utterly be ſpoil'd.
" He ſtrikes us dumb, and nonplus's our Art,
" Henceforth in vain no further Queſtions ſtart,
" But ſad and ſilent from our Shrines depart.
Thus God doth force Devils ſometimes to ſpeak,
That which doth much againſt their Int'reſt make.
But ſtay, my Muſe; the Cherubs chant again,
O liſten to this more melodious ſtrain.
The glorious Angels do ſweet Triumphs ſing,
Upon the Conqueſts of our Heav'nly King;
They clap their wings, and leap for joy to ſee
This total Rout and happy Victorie.
Shall Heav'n rejoyce, and more concerned Earth
Not ſing aloud Jehovah's praiſes forth?
O happy Day, bleſt hour, the beſt of all
Poor Mortals ever ſaw ſince Adam's fall;
Chriſt of a truth is riſen from the Grave,
No Pow'rs of Hell could keep him in the Cave.
Yet are there ſome in theſe in theſe laſt evil days
Deny that he from Death himſelf did raiſe.
The Jews alſo, with their Forefathers, ſay,
'Twas a Deceit; for he was ſtoln away
Whilſt drouſy Soldiers fell into a ſleep,
Who the Sepulchre had a charge to keep.
A thing themſelves, no doubt, could not believe,
But was forg'd by the Devil, to deceive
And blind mens Eyes, who wanted that inſpection
They might have had touching his Reſurrection.
'Twas the laſt game the Devil could deviſe,
To hinder Chriſt's most glorious Enterpriſe.
They knew that if his Reſurrection were
Received for a truth, no hope was there,
But all that they had done, it tumble muſt:
So the laſt Evil would exceed the firſt.
But if they had believ'd it, certainly
The Souldiers had with great'ſt ſeverity
Been puniſhed, for being ſo remiſs,
About a thing ſo weighty as was this.
Beſides, were they aſleep, how could they tell
What things there came to paſs, or what befell?
Or, if awake, why did they not prevent
Thoſe men who came with ſuch a ſtrong intent?
And can one think, if the Diſciples durſt
Attempt that thing, they ſhould have ſtript him first?
Would they not take the body in the cloaths,
Leſt e're they'd done, the Sould'ers ſhould have roſe,
And caught them doing it? and then be ſure
Great ſufferings for it they muſt endure.
Nay, had theſe men been guilty of ſuch evils,
They'd been no better than ſeducing Devils,
The worſt of Mortals: and how was it then
That God ſhould own and witneſs to ſuch men,
By aiding them? Would Heavens Pow'r have gone
To prove a Cheat, when Miracles were done?
Again, they were of ſuch Integrity,
As none could brand with the leaſt infamy.
And they 'ith face of Foes, without leaſt dread
Declare that he was riſen from the Dead;
That they convers'd with him full forty days,
Whilſt he inſtructed them in all his ways,
Before he did aſcend. And then agen,
In Galilee at once five hundred men
Saw him with joy, and in their witneſs gave,
That he indeed was riſen from the Grave.
Here ſtop again, my Pen, Time calls away,
Upon this Theme thou muſt no longer ſtay;
Leave them to periſh, let them fall and die,
That this bleſt Reſurrection do deny.
Shall God, his Saints, and Angels, witneſs bear
Unto this thing, and yet ſhall Mortals dare
To call the ſame in queſtion, or deny
What is confirm'd by ſuch Authority?
No, firm as Earth, or Heav'ns more ſtable poles,
Let this great Truth be fixt in pious Souls.
Without it Faith's a Fancy, and the beſt
Of men more wretched than the vileſt Beaſt.
But now, awake my Muſe, no longer ſlumber
The Day doth dawn, and joys which none can number
Are ruſhing in upon the Prince of Light;
This ſorrow's gone, nought now but Glory bright
Shines forth in him; now is he rais'd on high,
Far out o'th reach of all malignity.
Nor men nor Devils can annoy him more,
He's ſafely landed on the long'd-for ſhore.
Go Turtles, go, whilſt thouſand Joys betide
The glorious Bridegroom and his purchas'd Bride.
That Sun is riſen who will ne're go down,
Who will his Spouſe with light of Glory crown.
But where's the Soul! O where, alas, is ſhe,
For whom he dy'd and hung upon the Tree?
What greeting? O what Joy, when they do meet,
There will abound! the thoughts thereof are ſweet.
He that was Dead is come to Life again,
And ever ſhall in bliſs Eternal raign.
Thrice happy is that Soul which he hath choſe
To be his Love, his Dove, his Sharon's Roſe.
But where is ſhe, and what is her Eſtate?
For nothing of her we have heard of late.
Doth ſhe not wait? doth ſhe not long to ſee
His lovely Face, and to embraced be
In his dear Arms? O do'nt ſhe greatly crave
One ſight of him, one viſit more to have?
Doth not her Soul diſſolve then into tears,
With thoughts of him who freed her from all fears?
Read the next Part, and you will quickly find
The Fruit of Sin, and nature of the mind
That is corrupt, and fill'd with carnal Love,
How nothing can thoſe vile Affections move;
Oh how unkind to Chriſt do Sinners prove!
The End of the Firſt Book.
Behind this Curtain … ſuppoſe to be ſuch Glory▪ which … can ſee Beſides, the Day being … too, If wee … yet more … dare not … ſee Death and Devils, ſin & World caſt down Whilſt Heaven doth the glorious Victor crow… …