The Glorious Lover, Book 2 · Chapter 2
CHAP. II.
Shewing the evil of Sin, and how compar'd.
HAIL, precious Soul! once glorious, noble born,
But now debas'd, defil'd, in garments torn;
Nay, naked quite, yet mindſt it not at all;
Thy wounds do ſtink, and Vipers in them crawl.
So many ſins of which thou guilty art,
So many Serpents cleave unto thy heart.
What…s Sin? is't not a frightful Cockatrice?
No Serpent like the Serpent called Vice.
And doſt thou love to play with ſuch a thing?
Ah fool! take heed, view, view its poiſonous ſting,
Brute Beaſt by Natur's inſtinct are aware
Of the gilt bait and ſence-beguiling ſnare,
Though it ſeems ne'r ſo ſweet, or ne'r ſo fair.
And art thou ſuch a fool to hug a Snake,
And in thy breaſt ſuch great proviſion make,
That it may harbour there both day and night?
Ah! Couldſt thou ſee, or hadſt a little ſight,
'Twould ſoon appear a very loath'd delight.
No evil like the evil called Sin,
Which thou doſt love, which thou tak'ſt pleaſure in.
For what is Sin, is't not a deadly evil,
The filthy ſpawn and off-ſpring of the Devil?
And is thy mind on folly wholly bent?
What, love the Devils odious excrement!
Shall that which is the ſuperſtuity
Of naughtineſs, be lovely in thine Eye?
What, doſt thou value Chriſt, and all he hath
Not worth vain joys and pleaſures on the Earth?
Has he ſo much eſteemed thee? and muſt
Thou value him leſs than a curſed Luſt?
Doſt thou more good in that ſoul Brat eſpy,
Than is in all the glorious Trinitie?
That which men judge is beſt, they ſtrive to chuſe,
Things of the ſmalleſt value they refuſe.
O wretched Soul! what thoughts doſt thou retain
Of thy dear Lord and bleſſed Soveraign?
Come, view thy choice, ſee how deprav'd thou art
In judgment, will, affection, thy whole heart
Is ſo corrupt, defiled, and impure,
Thou canſt not Chriſt, nor Godlineſs indure.
Again, what's Sin? is't not a trait'rous Foe,
A Traytor unto God, and Rebel too?
It firſt of all againſt him took up Arms,
And made his Angels fall by its falſe charms.
Nought is ſo contrary to God as that,
Nor more the perfect object of his hate.
The Devil was God's Creature, good at firſt;
'Twas ſin that made him hateful and accurſt.
Sin ne'r was good, its eſſence is impure;
Evil at firſt, ſo now, ſo will indure.
And dareſt thou, O Soul, conceal this Foe?
Nay, hide him in thy houſe, and alſo ſhow
Such deared love to him, as to delight
In his baſe company both day and night?
Nay, ſport and play, and merry be with him,
What Gods dos hate and loath, doſt thou eſteem?
Doſt not, O Soul, deſerve for this to die?
What greater crime, what greater enmity
Canſt thou be guilty of, or canſt thou ſhow,
Than thus to harbour God's moſt traitrous Foe?
The chiefeſt room he can always command,
Whilſt my dear Maſter at thy door muſt ſtand,
And can't one look, nor one ſweet ſmile obtain,
Who is thy Saviour, and thy Soveraign.
What's Sin? a thing that's worſer than the Devil.
Sin made him ſo, ſin is a thing ſo evil,
'Tis worſe than Hell, it dug that horrid pit,
'Tis ſin that caſts all Sinners into it.
No lake of Fire, no Tophet had there bin
For ſouls of Men nor Devils, but through ſin:
'Tis that which lays them there heap upon heap,
Sin was the cauſe 'twas made ſo large and deep.
Sin is the fuel that augments Hell-fire;
Wer't not for ſin, Hell-flames would ſoon expire.
And wilt thou dandle ſin ſtill on thy knee?
Wilt make a mock of it? wilt jolly be?
Wilt ſin and ſay, alas! I am in ſport?
Ah! ſee thy folly, ere thou pay'ſt dear for't.
Is ſin God's foe? and is it ſo to thee?
Then part with ſin, break that affinitie:
Diſſolve the knot with ſpeed, do thy endeavour;
Which will deſtroy thee otherwiſe for ever.
Nay, what is Sin? it is a Leproſy:
When Scripture ſo compares it, may not I
Call it a ſickneſs, or a loathſom ſore,
That quite covers the Soul, and ſpreads all o're,
Like to an Ulcer, or infectious Biles,
That do corrupt, that poiſons and defiles
The Soul afflicted, and all others too
That dwell with him, or have with him to do?
Oh how do men fly from the Peſtilence?
And wilt not thou learn wiſdom Soul, from thence?
Sin is a plague that kills eternally
All ſouls of men, unleſs they ſwiftly fly
To Jeſus Chriſt, no Med'cine will do good,
Nor heal this plague, but this Phyſicians Blood.
What blindneſs is there then in thy baſe heart?
'Tis not the plague, th' Phyſician muſt depart:
Thou ſhutſt the door, wilt not let him come in
Whoſe purpoſe is to heal the plague of ſin.
Nay, what is ſin? 'tis poiſon in a Cup,
That's gilt without, and men do drink it up
Moſt earneſtly, with joy, and much delight,
Being pleaſant to the carnal appetite.
Sin's ſ…cet to him whoſe ſoul is out of taſte,
But long, alas, its ſweetneſs will not laſt.
Sin's ſweet to th' fleſh that dos it dearly love,
But to the Spirit it dos poiſon prove.
Haſt, haſt thou ſuck'd this deadly poiſon in,
And doſt not ſee thy vital parts begin
To ſwell? art poiſon'd, Soul, look, look about
To get an Antidote to work it out,
Before it is too late. The poiſon's ſtrong,
Don't ſtay a day, twelve hours is too long.
One dram of Grace mixt with repenting tears,
The grace of perfect love, that caſts out fears,
Mixt with that Faith, which kills all unbelief,
Took down with ſpeed, will eaſe thee of thy grief,
Will purge thy ſoul, and work by vomit well,
And all vile dregs of venom 'twil expel.
Unleſs thou vomit up each dreg, be ſure
No hope of life; one ſin will Death procure
Unto thy ſoul. Repentance is not right,
Till ſin, nay, every ſin's forſaken quite.
Not only left, but, as a poiſonous Cup,
They greatly loath what e're they vomit up.
No evil like the evil called Sin,
Which thou doſt love, which thou tak'ſt pleaſure in.
Again, what's ſin? it is an horrid Thief,
Or a Deceiver; nay, it is the chief
Or grandeſt Cheater too that e're was known,
He has rob'd thouſands; nay, there is but one
That lives, or e're has liv'd, but rob'd have bin
By this great Thief, by this Deceiver, SIN.
No petty Padder, his ambitious Eye
Doth ſearch about, he ſubtilly does ſpy
Into the place where all the Jewels lie.
The firſt he ſeizes is the Jewel Time.
He … robs each Soul of all their prime
And chiefeſt days, which mercy doth afford,
Which ſhould be dedicated to the Lord.
And more then this, not one good thing they have,
But them of it does this curſt Thief deceive.
Sweet Goſpel Grace, nay and the Goſpel too,
And all that glory which they alſo do
Confer on us, Souls are deceiv'd hereby,
And yet they know it not, they don't eſpy
The way it works, it's done ſo ſecretly.
Sin robs the ſoul of its ſweet Jewel Peace,
And in its room do's grief and anguiſh place.
Who ever doth this grievous loſs ſuſtain,
Can't have it made up unto him again
By Treaſures of all Kingdoms here on Earth,
No valuing it, no knowing of its worth.
Another thing this Thief has in his Eye,
And lays his Fingers on, then by and by
Doth bear away, it is the Jewel, Soul,
A loſs which mortals ever ſhall condole.
For had a man ten thouſand worlds to loſe:
The loſs of them far better had he choſe,
Than loſe his ſoul, why would you think it ſtrange?
What ſhall a man for's ſoul give in exchange?
There's one rich Jewel more, and 'tis the chief
That is aim'd at by Satan and this Thief,
Ah! 'tis a thing more worth than all the reſt:
How, how can then the value be expreſt?
It is a precious Stone that ſhines ſo bright,
It doth the heart of the great God delight.
He loves it dear, 'tis that his eye's upon,
And nought he prizes like this precious Stone.
This Stone, poor Soul, he offers unto thee,
What ſayſt thou to't, canſt thou no beauty ſee,
No worth in that which God accounts ſo rare?
Strange 'tis! ſhall I the cauſe of it declare?
Sin blinds thine eyes, and dos beguile thee ſo,
Thou for a Pepple lets this Jewel go.
This ſtone (know thou) is the Pearl of great price,
Let not this baſe Deceiver thee entice
To ſlight dear JESVS: wilt be ſuch a fool,
To loſe thy time, thy Chriſt, peace, and thy ſoul?
Be thou more wiſe, and more conſiderate,
Thou doſt, alas, thy pleaſures over-rate.
Let's go to th' ballance, prethee, Soul, let's weigh
The Pearl of price; make haſt, and quickly lay
Into the ſcales, the fleſh, and loads of pleaſure;
For honour, all the acts of mighty Ceſar,
And caſt whole mines in too, whole mines of treaſure!
Add world to world, then heap a thouſand more,
And throw them in, if thou canſt find ſuch ſtore;
And ſee which ballance of them is too light;
Lo it is done, and thine's ſuch under-weight,
It ſeems as if thy ſcale was empty quite.
Let's take the Pearl out, and then lets put in
An airy bubble; now let's weigh agin.
See, ſee, fond Soul, thy ſcale aloft dos fly,
There's nothing in't, 'tis leſs than vanity.
What folly was't to make the firſt compare?
What weigh the world with Chriſt! no need is there
To run that parallel, thou now mayſt find
Thy ſelf deceiv'd, thou labour'ſt for the wind.
For ſin's compos'd of nought ſave ſubtil wiles,
It fawn's and flatters, and betrays by ſmiles.
It's like a Panther, or a Crocodil,
It ſeems to love, and promiſes no ill;
It hides its ſting, ſeems harmleſs, as the Dove,
It hugs the Soul, it hates, when vow's tru'ſt love.
It plays the Tyrant moſt by gilded pills,
It ſecretly inſnares the Soul it kills.
Sin's promiſes they all deceitful be,
Does promiſe wealth, but pay us poverty:
Does promiſe honour, but dos pay us ſhame;
And quite bereaves a man of his good name.
Does promiſe pleaſure, but does pay us ſorrow;
Does promiſe Life to day, pays Death to morrow.
No evil like to th' evil called Sin,
Which thou doſt love, which thou tak'ſt pleaſure in.
Again, what's Sin? a ſecond Dalilah,
Which in the boſom lies, does tempt and draw
The Soul to yield unto its curſed ways,
And reſteth not until it quite betrays
It's Life into the proud Philiſtines hands,
Who take and bind it with baſe churliſh bands,
Nay, and moſt cruelly puts out its eyes,
Makes it grind in their Mill. Devils deviſe
All this, and more then this, when they do get
The poor deluded Soul into their net.
Laſtly, what's Sin? read thou the former Part
Of this ſmall Book, O view the bitter ſmart
Thy Saviour bore, it pierc'd his very heart.
Think thou upon his bloudy Agony,
'Tis that opes beſt its helliſh myſterie,
And ſhews the venom which in it dos lie.
No evil like the evil called Sin,
Which thou doſt love, and tak'ſt ſuch pleaſure in.
Had evil man's fool-hardineſs extended
No further than himſelf, and there had ended,
'Twere not ſo much, but O! I do eſpy
Another is much injured thereby,
Ten thouſand times more excellent in worth:
For the great God, who form'd the Heav'n & Earth,
Doth look upon himſelf as wrong'd thereby,
For he that ſins, doth little leſs than fly
I'th very face of his bleſt Majeſty.
And when the Son of Glory hither came,
O how was he expoſed unto ſhame!
It brought his Sacred Perſon in diſgrace,
When Sinners vile ſpat in his Heavn'ly face.
They taunt him with baſe terms; and being bound
They ſcourged him; he bled: but the worſt wound
Was in his Soul, occaſioned by Sin;
And thou thereby woundſt him moſt ſore agin.
O wilt thou paddle in the pure ſtream
Of precious Bloud! contemn it! O extream
And hideous Monſter! doſt thou hug the Knife
Which wounded him, yea took away his Life,
And will let out thy blood, though now it be
Delighted in, and loved much by thee?
Of Wonders ſtrange, and Prodigies that are
Amazing unto all who of them bear,
None can come nigh, or be compar'd to this,
A Prodigie of Prodigies it is.
Of Love and Lover, ne'r the like was known,
Nor was the like Ingratitude e're ſhown.
The one doth love beyond all admiration,
And ſuffer'd things beyond humane relation.
And he a King, but ſhe a filthy brute,
A beggar vile, and yet denies his Suit!
Queſtion.
From whence is it? O why will ſhe not cloſe
With this great Lord? how can ſhe ſtill oppoſe
His oft-repeated proffers? how, not yet!
Yield unto him? pray what's the cauſe of it?
Anſwer.
'Tis not in her own power to diſpoſe
Her ſelf in marriage: alſo here are thoſe
Who dwell with her, and her Relations be,
Who ſpoil the match, or the affinitie,
Which otherwiſe in all appearance might
Be throughly made with Jeſus Prince of Light.
Two proud Relations loftily ſtand off,
Who urge her to reject him with a ſcoff.
The one is Will, a very churliſh piece,
Who all along for Sin and Satan is.
The other's Judgment, once moſt grave and wiſe,
But now with Will both curſed Enemies;
To God and Chriſt true Piety oppoſe,
And lead the Soul with evil ways to cloſe.
'Tis they who muſt diſpoſe of her, if ſhe
E're yield to Chriſt his dearest Spouſe to be.
But Sin has ſo by craft corrupted them,
And drawn them to its party, they contemn
This glorious Lover, and will not conſent
The Soul ſhould yield to him, or ſhould repent,
And ſo break off with other Lovers, who
She yet doth love, and loth is to for-go.
Beſides them, in her houſe doth alſo dwell
An Enemy call'd Old-man, known full well
To be a grand and horrid Inſtrument,
To keep the Soul from granting her conſent.
O! he's the cauſe of all the inward ſtrife,
And hates the thoughts ſhe ſhould become his Wife.
And will prevent it, if he can find out
Meet ways and means to bring the ſame about.
Nay ſuch a Foe this Old-man is indeed,
That till he's ſlain by th' Spirit, or does bleed,
Or weakned in his power, ne'r will ſhe
With the Lord Chriſt firmly united be.
Slight wounds wo'nt do, he muſt be ſlain out-right,
Such is his rage, his ſubtilty and ſpite
Againſt this happy match; till he's near dead,
It cannot be in truth accompliſhed.
Therefore expect to hear of his black doom,
Before the ſweet eſpouſal Day doth come.
There's alſo yet another Inmate, I
Perceive dwells in her houſe (which by and by
You'l hear much of) who all her ſecrets knows,
And can her very inward thoughts diſcloſe,
His name is Conſcience, whoſe Power's ſo great,
That in her houſe he hath a Regal Seat.
Theſe three Allies by Old-man ſo corrupted,
Have all along the buſineſs interrupted,
They naturally are oppoſite to Grace,
And are far more inclined to give place
To ſenſual Objects, and the Prince o'th Night,
And ſo betray the Soul, for want of light,
Into their hands, of whom you heard before,
Who ſecretly deſign for ever-more
To take away her life, and quite undo her,
Whilſt flatteringly they promiſe peace unto her;
The Soul's deprav'd and captivated ſo,
It chuſes Evil, and lets Jeſus go,
The chiefeſt good, and takes the chiefeſt evil,
Being by nature acted by the Devil.
This well conſider'd, may the cauſe diſcover
Why ſhe denies to entertain this Lover.
The Soul is dead, and cannot ſee, nor hear,
'Tis ſenſleſs as a ſtone; a ſtone can bear
The greateſt weight, and neither break, nor melt:
Souls dead to God, ne'r love-ſick paſſions felt
Unto this day; nor can they love, until
They are convinc'd of ſin and all the ill
They have committed 'gainſt his holy Will.
Being ſenſible hereof, then with ſtrong cryes
They fly to God for ſalve to o'pe their Eys;
The Eys affect the Heart, when thou canſt ſee
Chriſt will be dear, and not till then to thee.
The Conſcience firſt is always wrought upon,
Which never is effectually done,
But by the Spirits Pow'r and operation,
Which ſets it equally againſt tranſgreſſion.
But leſt I ſhould be tedious, I'le forbear,
Craving attention to what follows here.