The Doctrine of the Three Sacred Persons, Part 3
SPIRIT.
MY Verſe proceeds to him that by proceeding
Subſiſteth in the Deity;
But can't proceed without his ſpeeding:
This Dove doth teach all other birds to fly.
My callow muſe hath pinions but no wings,
Pinions indeed of ignorance;
Yet th' Dove that hatcheth other things
Can fledge mine infant muſe with utterance.
But th'ther day I ſaw a Lamb take wing
And flie to Heaven from an hill:
I watcht to ſee if any thing
Would fall from him in flight, and found a quill,
Of which I made a pen, and fell to write
The ſtory; writing, found a Verſe;
Whilſt on mine hand a Dove did light,
And had me with the Lamb the Dove rehearſe.
My Maſter from mine head but th'ther day
The Clouds did take: unkind? or kind?
For whileſt my Maſter went away
His Mantle dropt, which whoſo ſeeks may find.
I ſeek it: Bleſſed Spirit! Come and ſpread
Thy beaming wings and cover me
In thy bright light thy Poet lead
That in thy light would fain diſcover thee.
Tis only Sun-ſhine that can ſhew the Sun,
Alas! my Lord, my ſpirits fleſh;
Dark-Lanthorn light is next to none:
My Froſt-nipt blooms what Sun-beams can refreſh?
Since then my carnall mind can never ſhew
Or who, or what, dear Dove! thou art:
The ſpirit of my mind renew
And it ſhall reimburſe what thou It impart.
Father and Son are God, and God's a Spirit,
And yet Gods Spirit neither is
Father nor Son; yet doth inherit
With both an equall yet diſtinguiſh'd bliſs.
Father and Son are God, and God is love,
Yet neither Father nor the Son
But their ſweet ſpirit's the ſweet Dove:
Each hath his Spirit, yet they both but one.
By this eternall Spirit Chriſt the word
Offers himſelf to God and dies;
Yet by this Spirit doth affoard
Of life unto dead ſinners all ſupplies.
This Spirit's infinite: oh! who can flee
His preſence and all-ſearching ſight?
Yet he's a wind, which who can ſee
From whence it comes, or whither it takes flight?
This Spirit's infinite; dwells every where,
Fathoms all hearts, ſounds ev'ry deep:
Yet how few Temples, Lord! are there
Wherein this holy Ghoſt doth houſe or keep?
This active Spirit moves in ev'ry wheel.
Works as he will: doth what he liſts.
Mans heart's that only braſs and ſteel
That the ſweet Spirits motions reſiſts.
This pow'rfull Spirit did the Heavens garniſh
And doth renew earths with'red face:
When winter waſheth off the verniſh
And makes a verdant ſpring in ev'ry place.
And why not in my ſoul? Awake and blow
O North wind, and thou South wind come
Let all my ſweets and ſpices flow
That he that owes my garden, may have ſ me.
Where the Lords Spirit is, there's liberty:
Yet a grim Sergeant one day came,
And neck and heels my ſoul did tie,
Saying, he did it in the Spirits name.
He did his …ffice, and would not be brib'd:
But as his warrant ſhew'd a writing;
Spirit of bondage, there ſubſcrib'd
I ſpied; and found 'twas of his own inditing.
My heart before had been a bird of prey
But now bee'ng conquer'd by a Dove,
I think on't ſtill how't ſprangling lay
Crying for quarter to that bird of love.
I markt his bill but ſaw no Olive branch:
…eate I implor'd, but he deni'd;
What blood he drew, refus'd to ſtanch
Till I ſubmitted to be mortif…ed.
Dear Dove, ſaid I convince me, pierce me, grieve me:
Strike through and through this wretched heart
So that thou'lt but at length relieve me
And with thy gentle wings but ſtroke my ſmart.
Dear heart, ſaid he I ſtruck thee for to ſtroke thee.
Put thee in bonds to ſet thee free:
That I might better heal, I broke thee:
I'm ſent to comfort by convincing thee.
Though I'm all light and peace, yet I did ſend thee
To a dark priſon, holding over
My black rod, but it was to mend thee.
For friends do Fools and Phranticks thus recover.
Remember, man, thy wild and Bethlem tricks:
How oft I ſtrove with the in vain:
Thine heel could kick againſt my pricks.
Sure 'twas high time to get thee in a chain.
Thou, and Manaſſeh, ſtood in much more need
Of iron chai…s, then chains of Gold.
Diſtracted folk muſt purge and bleed
And in their moneths be caught and kept in hold.
O bleſſed bonds! ſaid I, O happy trouble!
O bitter-ſweet ſweet-bitter ſmart!
My pain was great, my profit double
Whilſt thus thou undertak'ſt to tame mine heart.
Void, Chymicks! ſpill your Spirits! quit your art!
Ceaſe from your oft ſought, unfound ſtone:
There's but one Spirit can convert
An iron chain into a golden one.
Dear Dove, thy pris'ner may I ever bee!
Bondage is like to be my ſtate,
If to my ſelf thou leave me free.
He's only free whom thou doſt captivate.
Where the Lords Spirit is, there's liberty:
No man can ſay, Jeſus is Lord
But by the Holy Ghoſt, or cry
Abba, till that ſweet Spirit teach that word.
I was a liſper, and a ſtamerer
And could not skill oth' Shibboleth
That might my pray'r to God indear
Till this free Spirit gave new ſpeech and breath.
I was a beggar ſo extreamly poor
I skill'd not how to make my moanes:
But this Dove met me at Gods door.
Supply'ng my want of words with ſtore of groanes.
I was in ſuit, and could not well make good
My Title: But ſaid this free Spirit,
Soul, take this ſeal, the ſeal of blood.
I am thy witneſs, and thou ſhalt inherit.
I found a riddle whilſt I ſought a Text,
But this free Spirit loos'd the knot:
Which when I h'd read, yet what was next
Had not this Spirit prompted I'd forgot.
My barren grounds were chapt for want of rain
Gaſping tow'rds Heaven for a flood;
This Spirit flowing in a main,
Told me that he had brought me that's as good.
I ſea the mine heart found ſo much droſs and tin
So …it… elſe; I ſelf a mourning
Both for my groſs and ſplendid ſin:
Then he to me the ſpirit was of burning.
I fell a burning when my God did chide me:
Water, ſaid I, or I'm undone:
This ſtreaming Spirit ſtreight ſuppli'd me
Till all thoſe ſcorching flames were quencht and gone.
I fell a chilling till my heart grew ſtone:
Scarſe had I left one warm deſire:
My frozen heart was next to none:
Then ſaid this holy Spirit I am fire,
I fell a melting when I felt his heat;
My ſoul was broached at mine eyes
The ice was thawn to tears and ſwear
Which with freſh gales this Spirit gently dries.
Theſe fontinells thus dri'd pride rais'd a tumour
And then the Spirit's fain to take
His Lancet and let out the humour:
But, oh! mine heart how did it burn, and ake?
Which this dear Dove perceiving ſtraight way goes
T' a precious box, and thence applies
An ointment made of Sharons Roſe;
Which both the ſwelling cools, and mollifies.
When I was none, this Spirit made me be,
And live, and breath: when I was worſe
(For worſe then nothing, ſin made me)
For my rebuilding freely did imburſe.
My ſtony heart this ſpirit harcht to fleſh:
My fleſhly heart did circumciſe:
My bleeding heart with balme refreſh,
Thoſe tears that fell from bleeding Saviours eyes.
In native gore when I polluted lay,
Hav'ng none to waſh, to ſalt, to ſwath me;
His counſells were my ſalt that day;
His lawes my ſwadling bands: his grace did bathe me.
With milk for Babes this comforter did fill
Both Teſtaments, the old and new
But how to come by'… I'd no skill
Till he thoſe breaſts of conſolation drew.
He took me by the hand and taught me go
For I went all by forms before,
Till's holy unction made me know
A new and living way to Fathers door.
I got upon an hill, would fain deſcry
Heav'ns Canaan from earths wilderneſs
But being there, could nothing ſpy
Till with his eye ſalve he mine eyes did dreſs.
Over againſt Heav'ns haven on the ſhore,
I ſtood and waited for a wind
Then did this Spirit waft me ore
In heart, in hope, in faith, in joy of mind.
Arithmetick and th'art of meaſuring
I h'd ſtudied, but bungled ſtill;
The meaſure of a ſpan to bring
O… number of my daies I could not skill:
Then this free Spirit gave a watch to me
Which ev'ryday wind up I muſt,
To tell me how my time did flee:
But I forgot, and let is ſtand and ruſt.
Then being griev'd that I'd ſo direſpected
Both guift and giver, did indeavour
To wind it up but t' had collected
Such ſoil as from the wheels I could not ſever.
Then did I moutning to the donour go;
Confeſſ'd my fault, ſhew'd him the ſoile
It gather'd whilſt neglected ſo:
Do not deſpaire ſaid he for I am oyle.
This is the Spirit of all life and bliſs
Yet when I felt him firſt, I died:
The fountain of my life he is,
Yet but for him I h'd neer been mortified.
This Spirit in mine heart doth ſheed abroad
Gods dear and never dying love:
Yet not a day but his ſharp rod
Doth me ſeverely chaſtiſe and reprove.
This Spiritrais'd my Chriſt, yet caſts me down
Doth caſt me down, and yet uphold:
Mine humblings are my joy, my Crown;
My fear doth make my faith more firm and bold.
Calms are not alwayes proffitable for me,
Therefore the winds are ſometimes high;
This Spirit bluſters and is ſtormy,
That I might groundfaſt in humility.
This Spirit is my good and only guide:
Yet walk ith' Spirit, Scriptures ſay.
My conduct, and my path beſide
This Spirit is; my Captain, and my way.
Man walk according to thy native light,
Say ſome, and thou ſhalt perfect bee:
Perfect indeed as noon's at night:
Lord, in thy Spirits light, light let me ſee.
A ſpirit there's in man but th' inſpiration
Of the Almighty only can,
By no leſs than a new Creation,
Enlighten't; ſuch a dungeon ſin made man.
Mans ſpirit is the Candle of the Lord;
Which who would ſee by, firſt ſhould light
At Gods own fire, ev'n Gods own word:
Gods word's his mind ſeat us in black and white.
For ſince th' incarnate word his tender love
In blood to write us condeſcends,
What wonder that his own dear Dove
In inke and paper praies us to be friends?
Nor Son nor Spirit had I underſtood
Bee'ng ſunk ſo deep in ſins dark grot
Had not the Son took bone and blood
Had not the Spirit pen and paper got.
The Son, in humane nature clad, doth raiſe
My conſcience out of guilts dark grave
The Spirit, cloath'd in humane phraſe,
My mind out of blind ignorances cave.
The Son in ſervile form came down among's
Serving to purchaſe us command:
The Spirit fell in cloven tongues,
As who would liſp that we might underſtand.
Surely this Spirit of all Spirits fram'd
That Book of Books, my Bible dear:
A thing that's all things can be nam'd:
Food, phyſick, treaſures, pleaſures, all are here.
A glaſs that ſhewes to ev'ry man his face;
A ſtaff that helps the lame to walk:
A ſpur that makes him mend his pace:
A light that ſhews what, and what not, to balk.
A Book that makes the ſimple truly wiſe:
A Book that proves the wiſeſt fools:
A Book that helps the Readers eyes:
A Book that baffles, and befools the ſchools.
A Book whoſe ev'ry leafe, whoſe ev'ry line
Out ſhines the milky way as far
As if Heav'ns light ſhould all combine
To darken and obſcure one painted ſtar.
A Book that told my ſtory ere I was:
A Book that tels me what ſhall be
When I'm no more: what doom ſhall paſs
On States, on Churches, Perſons, and on me.
This Book's truths ſtandard, nay, 'tis truth it ſelf;
So well's the Spirit here pourtrai'd:
This Book doth ſanctifie the ſhelf,
The heart, I mean, where it's ſincerely laid.
Yet ſome by reaſon, ſome by new found light
Not only leave to queſtion take
But mend this Book and ſet it right
By Tables of Errata's they would make.
So much is good, and 'tis Canonicall,
As to mans reaſon is commenſur'd:
Gods light, by mans, muſt ſtand or fall:
And ſo the Sun by th' Sextons Clock is cenſur'd.
Methinks I love the Author for the Book:
The Book for th' Author much more love:
When op'ning into it I look
My God, I can't forget thy ſweet ſpread-Dove.
The gentle wings I feel, and hear the mourning
Of that dear Turtle waiting ſtill,
Upon my grieving and returning,
To bring an Olive-branch of peace ith' bill.
The lines, I grant, are not all of one colour
Yet all make up mans doom and duty
Some promiſe joy, ſome threaten dolour
Variety makes up the Turtle… beauty.
This Dove Bezaleel and Aholiab taught
All curious works for th' Sanctuary:
But Scriptures are more finely wrought
Shewing moſt art, where they ſeem moſt to vary.
As when this one ſweet Spirit is call'd ſeaven,
Perfection's meant in unity:
A Spirit filling Earth and Heaven
That operates in all, but diverſly.
Some reckon ſeaven Suns to ev'ry week,
So many Moons to ev'ry year,
As ſhee turns th' whole face or half cheek
And doth by turns firſt ſit and then appear.
This Spirit makes in Sampſon ſtrength excell
And in a Moſes government,
And wiſdom in a Daniel,
And all much more in Chriſt, where't dwelt unpent.
This Spirit doth tranſcribe the Goſpell-ſtory
On th' fleſhly tables of mine heart.
Chriſt's Cradle, Croſs, his Grave, his Glory
All's acted on that ſtage by th' Spirits art.
To his Birth anſwers my Regeneration:
Heart-Circumciſion ſuits to his:
To's Croſs and Grave mortification:
And Grace and Hope to's Riſing and his Bliſs.
And then as Chriſt makes interceſſion for us,
The Spirit in us, intercedes:
With crying blood out Chriſt doth ſtore us,
With ſighes and groanes the Spirit in us pleads.
This Spirit is unbounded, yet believers
In earthen veſſels this rich treaſure
Only receive as he delivers,
And he diſpenſeth each one but a meaſure.
This Spirit is eternalll, never dies,
An unextinguiſhable fire:
Yet in mens hearts oft gaſping cries
Oh! if you quench me thus I ſhall expire.
This Spirit is a Dove, yet to conteſt
With Crowes and Vultures is he fain;
Whilſt, in his room, mans wretched breaſt
Doth luſts unclean, wraths, rapines entertain.
This Spirit is a Dove, yet's vexed often
By fooliſh man, that peeviſh waſp
Whoſe heart nor Sun nor ſhow'r can ſoften,
Man grieves him without whom he could not gaſp.
This tender Spirit who but man would grieve?
If I my Comforter make ſad,
Who only can ſad hearts relieve,
Alas! my God, who then ſhall make me glad?
Grieve, fooliſh heart! be't to thine own perplexing
Be thou as melted wax in me,
That thou ſhouldſt ſet this Dove avexing
That ſweetly ſeales redemption unto thee.
Give, ſtubborn heart, relent, ſince for thy ſake
The Lamb of God not only blood,
But ev'n Gods turtle tears doth take,
Let thy repentance ſtill help on the flood.
Melt, ſtony heart! till all becomes one river.
Dove do delight near ponds to dwell:
Groans are beſt muſick to a griever:
Such is Gods Dove, whoſe groanes thy duty tell.
Shew not thy ſelf vexatious to a Dove,
That cannot grieve thee without grieving:
Ev'n Publicans yield love for love.
Quench not truths Spirit by thy unbelieving.
Afflict not this dear guide: go not aſtray:
Nor look back from an holy life:
While th' Spirit ſaies this is the way,
Have ſalt in thee: remember, man, Lots wife.
Check not this Spirits checks, but let them bee
Taken for kindneſs, as they are:
His ſmitings reckon oyl to thee
Say, ſmits my rock, my God, and do not ſpare.
Grieve not this Holy Ghoſt, by entertaining
Such inmates as he cannot bear:
If bands of luſts thine heart be training
What room for this ſweet Spirit can be there?
Seek holyneſs, ſeek peace, make after Union:
Let Medication ſtir this fire:
Pray'r blow it up: let ſweet Communion
Maintain it burning ſtill, and raiſe it higher.
Quench not the ſmalleſt ſpark in thy weak brother:
What flames are on that hearth of thine
Boaſt not, nor yet deny or ſmother.
Rather deſire thou for to burn then ſhine.
Some care not for this Dove had they his feather;
A ſorry bargin ſuch would make;
Over a while ſuch ſhall have neither:
Seek thou the Spirits gifts for graces ſake.
Ware ſinning, againſt light and grace, and love:
Know, ev'ry of thoſe ſins that are done
Directly againſt this dear Dove
Comes near to that that never ſhall have pardon.
If we live in the SPIRIT, Let us walk in the SPIRIT.
Gal. 5.25.