A Prayer-Song, Poem 7 – Poem 9
On the Woman taken in Adultery.
John 8.
3 And the Scribes and Phariſees brought unto him, a woman taken in adultery; and when they had ſet her in the midſt,
4 They ſay unto him, Maſter, this woman was taken in adultery, in the very act.
5 Now Moſes in the law commanded us that ſuch ſhould be ſtoned: but what ſayeſt thou?
7 So when they continued asking him, he lift up himſelf, and ſaid unto them. He that is without ſin, let him caſt the firſt ſtone at her.
1.
VIle Phar'ſees! who would make Chriſt's truth the Pander
T'accuſe him but with a more ſpecious ſlander
His Statute-book hath no ſuch Law
Which doth vice both indulge and awe;
Nor made Law of that kinde,
Which both doth looſe and binde:
Though your Law asks
Egyptian tasks,
Which you will not ſo much
As with one finger touch.
His Juſtice is too ſtrict a Martial,
Which is to ſin nor fond nor partial.
And ſince man is too weak to ſatisfie
His Father's wrath, the Lord himſelf will die.
2.
Yet your hypocriſie, falſe weights, and hins,
Neglect of truth and love, are greater ſins;
Which ere digeſted into fact
He ſees, and much more in the act.
Look how the womans luſt
Chriſt's mercy writes in duſt,
Which the next winde
Blows out of minde.
And yet, whate'er you claim,
Your malice doth but aim
To ſtone our Saviour in ſteed
Of the adult'reſs, for the deed.
And though you for her ſin do Law enforce,
Your ſp'ritual adultery is worſe.
3.
Your zeal may with her luſt go hand in hand;
Both kindled were at one infernal brand.
Your zeal's a particle of light
Sprung from the gloomy Prince of night,
When in an Angel's ſhape
Of light, he acts a rape.
Your zeal is baud
T'envie and fraud,
As her Concupiſcence
Was baud to this offence.
'T is not true zeal, but hot-brain'd zanie,
Which views each fault, ſquints through each crannie;
To carp at others failings, but ſtill dallies
With her own ſelf, nor ſees her craft and malice.
4.
Although ſome blaſphemouſly dare diſtruſt
Chriſt's mother's honour, he's no friend to luſt:
With Harlots though he eats and drinks,
He at their ſin connives nor winks.
There's nothing now obſcene.
In Mary Magdalene.
Hell well enough
Knows he's ſin-proof.
He may touch pitch, yet not
Receive thereby a blot;
And he with ſinners may converſe,
Yet ne'er be tainted by commerce.
And though Phyſitians need an Antidote
Ere they to ſick-men go, he wants them not.
5.
Ev'n ſo would partial Judah Tamar ſtone,
Till Shame retarded Reſolution:
The Serpent, while he would implead
Thus Eve, receives a bruiſed head.
As hiſt by guilt and blame,
Ye drop away for ſhame.
Seth's pillar ſtood
So, when the flood,
Wherein it late was drown'd,
Was now departed round.
As ſtands the woman thus alone,
While you convicted all are gone;
Ev'n ſo ſtood weeping Niobe, when all
Her hopeful ſons did by Apollo fall.
6.
Th'art free, as if thy ſin were ne'er committed;
Free as Suſanna, by that Childe acquitted:
Th'art clear and clean from this offence,
White as Suſanna's innocence:
And ſuch as hers I dare
Say thy Accuſers are:
Both Law inforce,
Without remorſe:
As they were hurried thence,
So theſe, by Conſcience:
Both out of malice, not true zeal,
For ſentence unto Law appeal.
Th'art clear'd by him whom thou haſt griev'd alone;
And who dares mention what thou ill haſt done?
7.
Her luſt, deep in repentant tears is drench'd
In waters which might Sodoms flames hav quench'd.
How bitterly flows from her brain
The former and the later rain!
Not onelyonly for this ſin:
She doth for all begin
To ſigh and ſob,
To groan and throb.
Were thus your malice rins'd,
Y'had not been thus convinc'd.
Her tears your malice may confound;
They ſhew how deep her ſin is drown'd
In the Seas depth. Nor doth it need your ſtones;
Her fiſt, lo, beats her boſome till it grones.
8.
My ſoul's the woman, Lord, found guilty in
The ſin of luſt, and in the luſt of ſin:
And as the devil ſtill conſpires
With my affections and deſires;
So joyns with Conſcience
To aggravate offence:
Both ſue for ſentence
Againſt repentance.
Lord, at one word of thine,
Their malice will decline.
No Ottacus on thy acquittance,
Will to thy court ſue for admittance.
From ſin and guilt thus cleared when I die,
I ſhall ſtand free, and none but thee and I.
On Mary Magdalene.
Matth. 26.
6 Now when Jeſus was in Bethany, in the houſe of Simon the leper,
7 There came unto him a woman having an alabaſter-box of very precious ointment, and poured it on his head as he ſate at meat.
1.
BLeſt Mary! whoſe repentant rheums
Were far more precious then thy Nard:
Thy tears nor age nor time conſumes,
Which waſtes and dries the richeſt Lard.
Thy Nard afforded rich perfumes;
Thy vocal tears each where are heard.
Thy Nard which on Chriſt's head did fleet,
Though grateful to him, was leſs ſweet
Then were the tears wherwith thou bath'dſt his feet.
2.
The rich ingredient which thy tears
Gave to thy Nard, ſurpaſs'd all alms,
Though of continuance of years:
True tears are of themſelves a balm,
Thy Nard foreſtalling both his ears,
Preſents each groan a Mercy-pſalm.
See, he accepts thy love and thee,
Nor doth at all eſteem't to be,
T'anoint th' Anointed, a Tautologie.
3.
Do not eſteem't an act uncouth,
Falſe-hearted Judas, what ſhe doth.
So Eli marked Hannah's mouth.
And with her cauſleſly was wroth.
So Boreas chides the healing South:
So on the Church boors frend and froth.
Lov'dſt thou the poor, yet wert ſo ſpeedy
To proſecute them, and ſo greedy,
To ſell thy Maſter that was poor and needy?
4.
As Ice to Cryſtal is congeal'd,
That it nor ſun nor fire can melt;
So ſeem our hearts and eye-balls ſeal'd
To hardneſs, that no grief is felt.
Our froſt-bound hearts lie ſtill conceal'd:
Let Love inflame, or Anger ſwell't:
Yet tears can't blinde, nor watry cries
Diſſolve the gelly of our eyes,
No more then rain can melt the Cryſtal skies.
5.
Good-woman! who eſteem'd no paint
Like to a face blubber'd with tears;
All other tinctures are but faint,
But theſe out-wear all age and yeers.
No Venus-mole beſpeaks a Saint,
No beauty-spot like theſe appears.
And as the Moon's each thinner place
Shews ſomewhat dark, yet no diſgrace:
True tears ſo never ſtain a beauteous face.
6.
For ſin, hair-rending fingers ought
To be our onelyonly criſping-pins:
Although indeed our hair's too ſoft
To make a hair-cloth for our skins.
No powder is like aſhes thought,
To roll our treſſes in for ſins.
Hair is the moiſture of the brain,
And ſo are tears: then 'twere not vain
With Mary here, to mix them once again.
7.
Thrice-bleſſed Convert! from whoſe breſt
Chriſt having ſeven devils caſt,
Left not thy boſome unpoſſeſt,
But there the ſpirit of Grief plac'd.
The former made thee worſe then beaſt,
The later gave thee reſt at laſt.
Oh were I ſo poſſeſs'd! theſe fits
Beſpeak us beſt to b'in our wits:
No joy ſhould chaſe it by removal-Writs.
8.
For Lazarus my outward man,
If ſick, my Mary, Lord, can mourn;
Groan like a dove, throb like a ſwan,
Till thou haſt rais'd him from his urn:
But for her ſelf ſhe now and than
Can weep, but doth her grief adjourn.
And yet we ſee, when thou doſt move
Womens devotions unto love,
Man ever doth the weaker veſſel prove.
On Peter's denial of his Maſter.
Matth. 26.
74 And Peter remembred the words of Jeſus, which ſaid unto him, Before the cock crow, thou ſhalt deny me thrice. And he went out, and wept bitterly.
1.
WHat, Peter, haſt deny'd thy Maſter
In his diſaſter?
Couldſt not withſtand, thou eaſie rock,
So ſmall a ſhock?
Loor'd thy foundation from beneath,
At a maids breath?
Thou bear a Church? who wert thy ſelf
A ſandy ſhelf,
Till Chriſt t'a rock confirm'd thy gravel,
Which none could ravel.
Thee, rather then a rock, we ſtile,
For thy inconſtancie, A floating Ile.
2.
Weak fiſher of men! if thus caught
At a maids draught:
How wilt thou hence oppoſe the harms
Of Mermaids charms?
If thee ſo much this common frie
Did terrifie;
How will the huge Leviathan,
Or th' Hurricane?
How wilt withſtand that Polypheme,
That ſpouts a ſtream
Of fury on all Chriſtian matters,
Diſturbs your rivers, and pollutes your waters?
3.
If thou wert put to ſuch extremes
On tender ſtreams,
How wilt thou ſtand it on thoſe Seas
That know no pleas?
How wilt oppoſe thoſe Zyphia's
And Remora's?
When Seas with angry windes do ſurge,
When tempeſts purge,
Unleſs that Chriſt ariſe, like that
Mount Ararat;
How quickly will the raging billows
Make Seas your Down-bed, and the Rocks your pillows?
4.
Are all thy promiſes ſo toward
So ſoon turn'd coward!
When of thy love there ſhould be proof,
Thou ſtoodſt aloof:
And yet thy fortitude, I wote,
Was more remote.
Was all thy valour but t' attend
To ſee the end?
More fickle far then was the maid
Which thee betraid:
She not deny'd her words, while thou
Didſt ſtart aſide like a deceitful bowe.
5.
Look, Peter, look, thy Maſter's minion,
How Chriſt they pinion,
By Judas treaſon, and thy fear:
He's captiv'd here,
Whom (worſe then Jewiſh rage and ſcorn)
Thou haſt forſworn.
Two have bely'd him even now
By perjur'd vow:
But thou haſt him deny'd far worſe,
By oath and curſe.
Heark, heark, how ſprightly Chaunticleer
Proclaims thee coward for thy daſtard-fear.
6.
Look with what glance thy Saviour eyes
Thy perjuries:
Let it diſſolve thy frozen fears
To melting tears.
Let Marah-waters be alone
Thy Helicone;
Not Sodom's lake, tears groſs and thick,
But ſharp and quick.
And as the Pontick Ocean's pride
Ne'er ebbes by Tide;
Let tears ne'er ebbe, but ever riſe,
Till they have got the cuſtom of thy eyes.
7.
In Lot's wife's obelisk of ſalt,
Go read thy fault;
And let it all thy moiſture ſeaſon
To tears for treaſon.
But if thy holy ſorrow luſts
For ſharper guſts,
Chriſt's vinegar and gall would fitter
Thy grief imbitter.
With ſuch intoxications whole,
Go drench thy ſoul.
Confeſs him with the penitent thief;
And as th' haſt freez'd for fear, go melt for grief.
8.
Good God! our weakneſs will without thee,
Not onelyonly doubt thee,
But of thee make a flat denial,
On eaſie trial;
Nay, ſhall not onelyonly thus deny thee,
But ſhall defie thee.
If th' rock could not withſtand theſe floats.
Can empty boats?
If that ſuch casks ſoon buoy'd thy rock,
Like ſome light block.
Can we hold out, who of our ſelves
No anch'rage have, but onelyonly ſands and ſhelves?