The Doctrine of the Three Sacred Persons
The source for this document is https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/eebo2/A95611.0001.001
Project Note
This is licensed under Creative Commons CC BY-NC-ND. This license allows reusers to copy and distribute the material in any medium or format in unadapted form only, for noncommercial purposes only, and only so long as attribution is given to the creator.
The source of this document is the Early English Books Online (EEBO-TCP) website. Those books were transcribed in a character for character manner and can be very cumbersome to read since there was no standard spelling during that time. Many spelling variations such as "unlesse", "vnlesse", and "vnles" regularly appear.
This project was conceived to clean up those books as much as possible and make them more accessible to the interested reader, leading to the creation of a massive list of variant spellings and their corrections. This was used to clean up the text, but is of course only as complete as the list itself. Because of the nature of the original transcription, some words have missing characters or places where the original language (e.g., Greek) was not transcribed. This effort does not change that. Be aware that the original transcription can also be faulty and in some cases entire sentences may be missing.
Although this is no substitute for a properly compared, proofed, and scholarly edition, I believe that the result is a document which is far more accessible, particularly for searching for terms using standard spelling. The document has been cleaned and presented in what I hope is a pleasing and useful format for the vast majority of Christian brothers and sisters who just want access to read these spiritually nourishing works.
However, a word of warning: The Puritans were a very diverse group of people and their age was characterized with godliness, but also much upheaval, disputation and strife. They disagreed on many doctrines and some of these works contain less orthodox or Scriptural views than others. The reader is strongly advised to read with discernment, particularly if it is unknown whether author is trustworthy.
This project took a huge amount of time and skill to bring to fruition. I would particularly like to thank David Jonescue for the initial list of Puritans he found on EEBO and the concept behind this project as well as the continuous, unceasing efforts toward seeing this complete. Without his labor, this would not be available. Alex Sarrouf was invaluable in providing the initial list of over 7,000 spelling variations he had identified and corrected, as well as continuing to review more than 16,000 additions to that list for any typos.
Logan West
(with David Jonescue and Alex Sarrouf)
www.puritansearch.org
TER TRIA: OR THE DOCTRINE OF THE Three Sacred Persons, FATHER, SON, & SPIRIT. Principal Graces, FAITH, HOPE, & LOVE. Main Duties,
- PRAYER,
- HEARING,
- and MEDITATION.
By Faithful Teate Preacher of the Word at Sudbury in Suffolk.
TRIA SUNT OMNIA.
LONDON, Printed for George Sawbridg at the Sign of the Bible on Ludgate Hill. 1658.
ILLUSTRISSIMO DOMINO D no Henrico Cromwell, DIGNISSIMO HIBERNIAE PRAEFECTO SACROSANCTAE INDIVISAE{QUE} TRINITATIS CULTORI INDIVISO TRIPLICI DIVINAR m GRATIAR m Coronâ ORNATISS mo TRIBUS Que Apprime Christianis OFFICIIS INTEGERRIME DEDITO, TRIPLECEM HANC TRIADEM SACROR m POEMAT m CHRISTIANAE DOCTRINAE SUMMAMIN SUMMAE OBSERVANTIAE TESTIMONIUM Humill m .
F. T.
L. M. D. D. D.
THE AUTHOR TO THE READER.
OFt have I seen Luxuriant Vitious Wit
A wanton Rape on a fair Muse commit:
At once distaining, by lewd Poetry,
The Writers Paper-sheets, and Readers Eye.
And may not I oblige the thrice three Muses
Chastly to serve so Sacred thrice three Uses?
Is the grave Body of Divinity
Less Currant for the feet of Poetry?
Are Truths, for being short and sweet, less sound?
Or streams, for running smoothly, less profound?
David
a Prophet, yet in Verse excels:
'Twas ECCLESIASTES made the Canticles.
To the Pious and Ingenious Author of this Tripartite Poem.
BEfore your
triple Poems
I admit,
These
Votes
made up of
Threes,
may well be writ.
May
Understanding, Will,
and
Memory
Know, Love,
and
hold
thy Sacred Poetry.
May
Heaven
be th'
fuller, Earth
the
better, Hell
The
thinner,
by the Truths, you write so well.
May
pride of life,
the
lusts
of
flesh
and
eye,
Be poison'd by these leaves of thine, and die.
If any
other
three, I'd wish were down,
'It is
Austria, Spain,
the
Pope with' striple Crown.
This
latter Vote
if th'
King
of
Kings
would make
An
Act,
I'd willingly the
Earth forsake.
W. Jenkyn.
Ingenious Reader.
SOme few mistakes there are of the Printer that unhappyly hurt the Rithme, as with these, for withal, p. 4. l. 11, &c. And some the Reason, as p. 20. l 8. Wares for Wars, &c. With some • seudographies and mispointings, which thine Ingenuity will either Correct, or not Impute to thy Friend
F. T.
FATHER.
THou that
begin'st
All things begin my ve
•
se
My words are wind;
Thy words are works:
Thou'lt lightness find
Where darkness lurks:
My Pen and Ink may me not Thee rehearse.
My Pen is but a feather'd vanity,
Like me that write;
Yet shall this feather,
If thou wilt indite,
Help me fly thither
Where Angels wings make
•
ens beyond the sky.
Father, mine
Inks
dark hue, presents mine heart.
Ink's not more dark,
Ink's not more black;
One beam, one spark
Supply this lack.
Father of Lights, now show thy perfect Art.
Lord teach me speak and I will not hold my peace:
Which if I should,
The stones would come;
Though deaf, yet would
They not be dumb;
Break into praises, stony heart, for these.
No man hath seen thee, Father, but He who
Did sometime come
(Thy Son it was)
Thy bosom from,
Thy Looking-glass,
He's the wise Child that doth his Father know.
Who else sings Thee, sings what he hath not seen:
My Verse hath feet,
And fain would run
Thy praise to meet;
But, lest the Sun
Should hurt weak fight, the clouds do interveen.
Then may I in thy Son thyself discover;
Sure He's the Mirrour
That shows thy face:
Prevent mine error;
Christ's flesh like glass
A brighter Glory, but unseen doth cover.
Since then I must be silent, or begin
To sing th' unseen;
Father of Mercies,
That set'st the screen,
Forgive my Verses:
Oh thou that veil'st their subject, veil their sin.
Father's a word my child learns first to mutter,
And thy child too,
Thy new-born Babe
First thing 't can do
Is to cry Ab;
But both come last to know what first they utter.
Thou art the Father of that Son that made
That womb on earth
That, without Father,
Did give him birth;
And might the rather,
He be'ng begot where He no Mother had.
Then shall I call thee Father? Lord, thy Son
Was called no less
Before his birth;
Prophets confess
He had on earth
His children, seed and generation.
Th' Eternal Father call we Thee? or rather
Thy Child, thy Son
Born to restore us,
Thine Holy One
Giv'n to us, for us?
I will call Thee th' Everlasting Fathers Father.
All that's in God is God; and needs must be.
Thou madest mine eye,
Could'st thou forbear
Thy self to spy?
Or so to rear
The blessed Image of thyself in Thee?
Surely thou couldest no more thyself not view;
Then, Lord, not love
Thy self when seen;
From whence thy Dove,
As hatched between
Thy face and Looking-glass, sprung forth and flew.
Then shall I not believe Thou'rt One, yet Three?
Father, and Son,
And sacred Spirit,
That equal run,
One bliss inherit?
Lord, I will believe Thee surely such to be.
Yet thou art the FATHER still: Those sparkling things,
Are sons of God:
Those winged flames
That fly abroad,
(Thou knowest their names)
Made without Bodies, made all face and wings.
Faces they have, and eyes and tongues, with these,
To see and sing:
But O their Grace!
A sixfold wing
To every face!
Wise, happy, humble, obediential.
Lend's wings, dear Dove; we lag and lose our traffick.
Poor short-leg'd Rhymes,
Verses on foot
Reach Seraphims,
They cannot doit.
Lord, now if ever make my Muse seraphique.
Or if I may'nt have wings, and so keep sight
Of these bright flames,
Shades of thy glory
Yet tell's their names
And tell's their story;
And lend's a quill, dear Dove, and I will go write.
Write Angels. Lord, 'tis done: but who are they?
Servants, or sons?
Subjects or Kings?
Footstools, or Thro
•
es?
Inferior things,
Or Principalities? What shall I say?
Sometimes I hear thee call them Elohim;
Yet they were made:
These plumed things
Are but the shade
Of thy bright wings,
Before whose Sun-shine, all these Stars are dim.
Sometimes 't should seem that they but servants are;
Or Ministers
To wait upon
Salvations heirs,
And guard thy Throne.
Yet these stand covered where thy sons stand bare.
Servants they are, and yet Dominions:
Each holds his Crown
By casting it
Most humbly down
Before thy feet.
Father, thy Throne's erected on the Thrones.
Thousands of thousands of these finite God's
On every side,
I mean the Cherubs,
When thou dost ride,
Some serv for stirrups,
And some thou holdest in thy hands for rods.
Arch-Angels, Angels that sixwinged Nation.
Stand trembling, Lord,
Prest to obey
Their Makers word;
And glad they may
By all their running but maintain their station.
These cannot forget that early Funeral;
These cannot forget
Those morning-Stars
That rose and set,
Whose inbred wars
Blew up themselves. But oh — their fall!
Yet Thou'rt the FATHER still: these Absolom's
Their beings had
And beauties, Lord,
But not their trade
Nor Traitours sword
From Thee from whom All good, and only comes.
How came these then to fall? 't should seem that under
Their Angels wings
Each laid some evil
(Oh wretched things!)
And hatched a Devil.
And so by sinning singed their wings. What wonder?
Thy fine white linen, Lord, sin burnt to tinder.
Satan's thy creature,
But now doth want
First form and feature,
Oh miscreant!
Thou madest him bright, but sin turned all to cinder.
Yet thou art the FATHER still: those Stars in view,
Lanterns hung out
In all men's sights
Thy Court about,
Those various lights
FATHER of Lights there dwelling clearly show.
That golden Globe comes trundling from thine hand:
Father, thou sayest
Thou Sun of mine
Run East and West,
Cease not to shine
Rounding my Bowling-green of Sea and Land.
That burnisht silver Ball's hurled forth by Thee:
That Moon of thine
That always ranges,
Doth sit and shine,
In constant changes,
Says plainly He that changeth not made me.
The Pleiades, cluster of six, called seven:
The Signs twice six;
The Errant Train:
The Stars that fix:
The Northern Wain
And all the Constellations of the Heaven:
The Great Orion with those Bands of his:
Stars Great and Least:
The Milkie way,
With All the Rest,
Doth plainly say
That He whose Breasts drop Lights their Father is.
The Archt Expanse, whose Props who can descry?
That surging Roof,
And Saphyre-cieling
Yeelds ample proof,
To all men's feeling,
It had its rise from Thee, O thou most High!
Those stately Offices all on a row,
Standing about
Thy spangled Court,
And yet without
For greater Port;
Thee Father of Heavens Family do show.
There stands thy Minting-house, thy Bulloign brought
From 'ts place of birth;
Vapours, I mean,
From drossy earth
Are there made clean;
And, as thou pleasest, cast and coin'd and wrought.
There stands thy Treasury; that doth contain
Gems in great store
Of orient hue:
Who can count over
Thy Pearls of dew?
Thy golden Lightnings? or thy silver Rain?
There stands thy Wardrope. Lord, the purple shrouds
Which thou dost use,
And dapled sky,
Like Ermins, shows
Thy Majesty.
And when thou wilt thou wea
•
'st the gold-fring'd clouds.
There stands thy stable-room. Sometimes thy mind's
To ride abroad;
That men below,
There is a God
Above may know
Hearing the neighings of thy prancing winds.
There's thy distillatorie. Thence thou dost
Heavens drops distill
In such great store
Earth drinks its fill
Till 't needs no more.
Then the cold ashes are cast forth in Frost.
There stands thy great Confectionary. There
Those heaps of Snow
Double-refined
Do clearly show,
And bring to mind
That they belong to th' Great Confectioner.
'It is He that makes those Frost-works. He that makes
Moist Drops, when cast
In's Comfit-mold,
Hail-stones at last,
When they grow cold,
'It is He that candies all the Icie flakes.
There stands thy Magazine. Thou dost erect
Thy flaming forges,
And there prepare
Thy shafts and scourges,
Weapons of war
Which, when thou wilt, thy Rebell foes correct.
Storms, tempests, thunders, thunder-bolts with these,
Great and small shot,
Brimstone and fire,
Father, what nor?
If thou require,
Dart thence to chastise those that thee displease.
Whole
Egypt
from thy storm of Hail shot runs.
His Heathen-Head
That Royal slave
Slunk under-bed,
When th' Heavens gave
But one round volley from thy greater guns.
Thou'rt the Rains Father. Frost thou'st gendred?
What Prose or Verses
Can better show
Thy tender Mercies
Then melting Dew?
This shows thine Heart, and hoary frost thine Head.
Th' Ancient of Days begat me, says the Snow.
The Lord of Hosts
's my Fathers Name
The Thunder boasts,
And Lightnings flame.
I carry Fathers Colours, says the Bow.
So thou art the FATHER still: Lord, 'tis alleged
By th' Feather'd Hosts,
That here and there
Th' Aeriall Coasts
And Quarters bear,
Under thy Wings they were both hatched and fledg'd.
That Bird of Paradise, Lord, thou must owe it.
With chattring cries,
Swallows and Cranes
Plead th' Only wise
Did hatch our Brains
And He that made our season, made us know it.
'Twas God All-seeing made my piercing Eye
Do h the Eagle say.
To th' God of Love
Our broods we lay,
Saith Stork and Dove:
If these be ours, sure we are thy Progenie.
With early visits and salutes from Earth
Up the Lark climbs,
As if it meant,
With Seraphims
Of high descent
By vieing notes and wings, prove equal birth.
The plumed Ostriches forget their young;
But thou their Father
With careful hand
Their Eggs dost gather
Laid in the sand,
Hatching to life, and hiding them from wrong.
The goodly Peacock with his Argus-train,
His Angels plumes,
His well-set border,
Strongly presumes
To th'God of Order,
Unto whose pomp this splendor doth retain.
The tumbling Deeps where all the waters gather
Roundly declare
That Name of His
Whose Counsels are
The Great Abyss:
Seas swell too big to own a meaner FATHER.
Surely the Ocean's thine. Lord, is it not?
Thou bid'st it boil,
But not boil over:
And 't does recoil
Within the shore,
Thou dost both furnish, Lord, and salt the Pot.
Thou, Great-House-keeper, must the Fish-pond owe,
Whose banks and shores
Are Rocks and sands,
Whose fullness stores
All Coasts and Lands,
For thou the greatest Family canst show.
These Water-works are thine invention, Lord.
Is th' Oceans force,
When most serene,
Charg'd by thine Horse,
Thy Winds, I mean?
What mighty banks and trenches, Lord, appear?
Under the covert of these surging Seas
Those Armed Bands
(Each jointed scale
Like Armor stands,
Or Coats of Male)
March here and there securely as they please.
Leviathan that moving Mount or Fort,
Who can deride
storms battering,
Of Sons of pride
Thou call'st Him King;
There tumbles he to make his Maker sport.
So thou art the FATHER still. Even Earth can cry
From Cliffs and Mountains,
Hills high and steep;
Sprin
•
s, Mines, and Fountains
That run so deep,
How deep's thy wisdom, Lord? thy power how high?
Thou gavest the Rocks their Rise. Springs sprang from thee.
Great Architect!
Earths Fabric fair
Thou didst erect,
And hang in the Air
To show its Makers Independancy.
Thy very foot-stool, Lord, thou dost inlay
With Mines of gold,
And silver Ore;
Who can unfold,
Or prize the store,
Wherewith thou dost enrich poor dust and clay?
This inlay'd foot-stool thou hast round beset
With Vegetants.
Who can declare
Those various Plants,
Their Virtues rare,
That spring from dust of heavenly Fathers feet?
Those short-lived Beauties that the Florists gather
Look up a while,
With a fair Eye;
Give God a smile:
And though they die
Yet leave such seed as plainly shows their Father.
Thou'rt fruitful Parent of All Trees fruit-bearing.
Who doth not see
Earth doth but nurse
These Plants for thee?
Thine Heavens disburse
Continuall payments for these Plants up-rearing.
Some Trees there are, though suckled with earths sap.
Yet run upright;
As if they meant,
By their vast height,
Prove their descent,
And lay their Leavie Locks in Fathers lap.
Others there are too weak to rise alone,
Yet seem to know
Where Father dwells;
Why should they go
To Neighbors else
To borrow crutches, to run up upon?
The Herds, the Folds, the Beasts innumerable:
The multifarious
Creeping Creatures,
Whose food is various
As their features,
Cry still to God, Our FATHER, spread our Table.
Father, to Live, thy Gift alone can be;
Earth's cold and dead,
And cannot give
To what it bred
To breath or live,
Surely the fountain of all Life's with thee.
This spacious House thus built, and furnished so;
Come let's convey
Our Image just,
Did th' Father say,
To breathing dust;
Leaving our likeness to keep House below.
Then was clay stamped, by Act of Parliament,
With God's bright face:
A Creature Crown'd
Wish Life and Grace:
Heaven-born, Heaven-bound,
Of upright aspect, of Divine descent.
Father, thy foot-steps we may find and gather
All other-where,
But in this creature,
Thy face shines clear,
Witness his feature;
Who reads man's face may quickly spell his Father.
Said I, one may? my God, I should have said
One might have done:
But things fall cross:
Flesh turns to stone,
Pure gold to dross,
Silver degenerates to dirt and lead.
Said I, there is? I should have said there was:
My God! there was
Thy countenance
So in his face,
That every glance
The shining Sun in brightness did surpass.
Father, this walking, talking Plant was He
Whom thou didst love,
Whom thou didst prize
All Plants above.
Thy Paradise
Thou soon didst quit when thou hadst lost this Tree.
From th' side whereof a female plant did spring
A splended pair?
Now th' Earth begins
T' outshine the Air,
Where Heavens bright twins
(The Sun and Moon) their Light, as tribute, bring.
Woman to man's a gift of God's own giving,
(That man alone
No more might be;
Yet as much one,
And one with thee.)
A gift endors'd with Doners Name, the living.
This Royal consort to complete man's joy
Thou God of Union
Didst well provide
For chaste Communion
As his dear Bride
Whom thou hast crowned on Earth as thy Vice-Roy.
So th' little world, with greatest work and skill,
Was framed at last,
And being the best
Its grace was past
To rule the rest.
Nothing's forbidden but its knowing ill.
Upon thy footstool thou hadst built a Throne
For man to sit,
My God, at thine;
And at his feet
Thou didst consigne
All other things in due subjection.
Thou gavest him Life, 'twas fit shouldest give him Law.
His fear did fall
By thy command,
On Creatures All
In Sea and Land;
He standing only in his Fathers Awe.
His Diadem was bright Intelligence,
Wisdom in full,
Whose every spark
Makes Diamonds dull,
And Gems look dark;
His Ermine Robe was purest Innocence.
A Rationall-Plant-Animal was he:
Could vegetate,
Could Move and walk,
Could contemplate,
Discourse and talk:
Fair Issue of the Blessed Trinity!
Parents own Picture! wise, just, holy Son!
Thou madest that star,
His Heart, to be
Triangular,
Yet one with thee,
Who art the Ever-blessed Three in One.
That Instruments Three Strings thou God
Trin-Unc.
(Th' Intellect, Will
And Memory)
Did'st Wisdoms skill,
And Sanctity,
And Righteou
•
ness give charge to keep in Tune.
And, Oh! What rare and ravishing content
My God did take?
Till, on a day,
A fall did crack
(spoiling his play)
The strings together with the Instrumenc.
But, oh, what tongue? what pen? what prose? what verse?
What tears? what cries?
What melting moans?
What sobs? what fight?
What piercing groans
Can man's so sudden, so sad fall rehearse?
Of late a most complete and upright Piece
My God did frame,
Of crooked bone:
But th' Serpent came,
When God was gone,
And wound his work to greater crookedness.
Wound out of Heaven, but into Paradise,
In a Friends guise,
That cankerd Devil,
By fallacies,
Drew
Eve
to evil:
And thus the Mother of all living dies.
Man being thus on th' one side mortified,
How quickly doth
The Gangrene spread?
Infecting both
The heart and head.
Thus
Adam
lived and reigned, rebelld and died.
Down comes the Son by leaping Fathers hedge:
An Apple there,
As some do gather,
But a choke-Pear
As I think rather,
Did tempt him, Oh my teeth are yet on edge!
O fruit, Death was thy fruit! thy gall, thy foot
Mee thinks I taste
With all my bread;
Which makes me hast
Unto the dead:
Thou bredst that worm that killed me in my root.
Which be'ng once withered, root and branch did fall
With such aweight
Made the earth to groan
From such an height
Man fell upon
The inferior creatures, and so crushed them all.
These subjects, thus oppressed, soon take up Arms
'Gainst Rebell-Man,
Heavens deputy,
(Who first begun
to mutiny
Against his Sovereign) to revenge their Harms.
For sin that made man Naked, Arm'd the Earth:
So poor man scrambles,
In sweat and blood,
'Midst thorns and Brambles
For sorry food,
Till's Dust turns thither whence it had its Birth.
Now the Earth, that sometimes owned him for its King
Makes him Distrain
With plow or spade
For every grain
Orit cannot be had,
That wont, of'ts own Accord, its Tribute bring.
Man having broke God's Peace, all turns to strife:
'Gainst his Creator
Even Dogs proclaim
Fal'n man a Traitour.
A two edge'd Flame
Cries Come not, Rebell, near this Tree of Life.
Besides these wares without that worm doth gnaw
Mans in most soul;
A worm late breeding
O th' fruit he stole,
Whereof man feeding
Became as broken as his Makers Law.
Yet thou art the FATHER: these mourning Verses
Do prove thee so;
Mans miseries,
The Creatures woe,
And all their cries
Plainly proclaim thee FATHER of all mercies.
Thy Providence and Patience towards man
Do seem to strive,
O blessed strife —
Who shall reprieve
The Traitours life,
By lenghthening out his poor contracted span.
Though man made so much hast to stir thine ire;
Yet thou art slow,
My God, thou art;
I find it so:
Thou melt'st mine heart
With burning Coles, but of another fire.
Thine En'my hungers, and thou givest him food:
Thine En'my thirsts,
Thou givest him drink:
Oh! mine heart bursts.
Oh! Who would think
Man were so bad, that sees his God so good?
Father, Thou makest thy Sun still shine on those
That lowr on thee;
And when Heaven lowers
'It is love we see;
For fruitful showers
Thou makest then to fall on thankless foes.
Man, what art made of? Dost not feel that Sun,
Dissolve the Ice?
But thou art Clay,
Th'harder for this:
Yet showers, we say,
Soften the hardened Clay; But thou art stone.
Father, When man had ceased thy son to be,
And turned thy foe,
Yet didst thou not
Desert him so;
Nor hast forgot
To set thy child, though battered, on thy knee.
When man first, stripped himself, and showed his shame,
Cloaths from the Backs
Of Beasts less wild,
Mans FATHER takes
To dress his Child:
Man lost his Robe, and Beasts must bear the blame
Could I, to clothe a Foe, thus strip a Friend?
My God! My God!
What have these done?
And yet thy Rod,
Due to thy Son
Falls on these servants backs that never find.
Thus Man's both fed and clad at thine expense,
Kept at thy charge,
Yet keeps it not;
But lives at large,
As having got
His force to fight thee from thy Providence.
Heaps upon Heaps! One load upon another!
God gives Man store,
Like a Dear Friend,
Man sins the more,
Till in the end,
Or Mercies sins, or sins do Mercies smother.
Yet thou art the FATHER still: of mercies Father:
When through sins curse,
Such Rebels die;
Thou dost yet nurse
Their Progenie:
As th' Hen her Chickens, so thou dost them gather.
Thus are all things conserved since the fall,
Both man and Beast:
The Raven's fed:
The Lily's dressed;
Then put to Bed.
All's kept in 'ts kind, or Individual.
How beauteous in its season is each thing?
Summer supplies
What Winter spends:
When Autumn dies,
Such stock descends
As may set up the next succeeding Spring.
Thy Providence makes Clouds feed th'Earth with Rain:
Th' Earth feed the Plant;
Plant, th'Animal:
So there's no want,
Nor wast at All.
Then th' Earth with Vapours feeds the Clouds again.
By these, the Marshes make the Mountains drink,
And liquid Seas,
At thy Commands,
Water, by these,
The parched Lands.
Who, but thyself should such a thing forethink.
Thou dost for every mouth provide a Meat:
For every meat,
A mouth provide:
Thy Board's full set
On every side:
If ought do fall to th'ground, that th'earth doth eat.
Father, for All things thou dost well provide.
Thou didst Erect
This fair Creation,
And dost project
Its preservation:
And being the House-Keeper art the great House-Guide.
Thou serv'st Thy self of All. Even Satan's Brain
Ripens thy Plot;
And his design,
When he thinks not,
Promoteth thine:
Thou makest that Black-smith forge his own dark chain.
Thou makest man's wrath praise thee: And all his evil
Thou turn'st to good:
In all man's Story,
Even in man's blood,
Thou sav'st thy glory:
Goodness rules all in spite of man and Devil.
Yea such is Fathers care, and Fathers skill,
When foolish man,
Led by that elf,
Doth all he can,
T' undo himself,
T' extract man's greatest good from such an ill.
So thou 'rt the FATHER still: Thy new Creation
Most sweetly shows
Thy Father-hood:
My God renews
Faln man to good:
By a new word through th' Spirits Incubation.
Adam
comes forth but in a new Edition:
God's bright Portraiture
Is new imprest,
The Divine Nature,
On man's breast;
Clear from all treason, and from all Misprision.
Father, thou soak'st this Adament in blood
Of thy first-born.
Mine heart, I felt,
Did the impress scorn,
And would not melt
Till that red Sea resolved it to a flood.
Father, I heard thee beg the Rebels peace
Rising betimes
To ope thy doors:
For all my crimes,
My God implores
Me to take pardon for my wickedness.
Then said I turn me O my Lord my God!
And I will turn
To bear thy yoke;
Mine heart doth burn
That I it broke.
O my dear child! I will run and burn my rod.
Thus spake my father. Pains oth' second birth
Did pinch and grieve,
But God's dear strength
Did soon relieve:
And at the length,
His child be'ng washed and dressed, my God makes mirth.
Nor doth man's elder brother grudge or grieve,
But sing and smile,
Angels do shout
Heaven rings the while
Th' whole court throughout,
To see poor spend-thrift man return and live.
Man thus adopted and regenerate
Searcheth his Fathers
L
•
st Testam
•
nt,
And thence man gathers
H av'ns full
•
nte
•
t
For his inheritance and fa
•
ur st
•••
.
Thou prov'st thyself my FATHER all these way
•
Now let thy Dove,
Teach me to fear,
To s ve and love,
Thee, Father Dear,
Proving myself thy Child, even all my Days.
If you call on the FATHER, pass the time of your sojourning herein fear,
1 Pet. 1.17.
SON.
O Let that Dove, that sometimes did thee Crown
With yellow Gold,
And silver Plumes,
Unto thy Poet Thee unfold
That humbly by thy leave presumes,
To spread thy fame and scatter thy Renown.
Let thine Heroic Spirit guide my Verse
If thou the thing
Indite,
I will write
Touching the King,
What my weak willing heart would fain rehearse.
'Twas when
Augustus Cesaer
laid a Tax
On all the Earth,
Grace called for Thee.
'Twas then thy Mother gave thee Birth,
That thou mightest set all Nations free,
Heavens fair Impression's stamped on Virgin Wax.
To us a Child is born, grace gives a Son,
Heavens were too bold,
To say
That they
That King can hold,
Who now into a Manger crowds His Throne.
For since sin made man brutish like the Rest
My God did lay;
The Bread of Life,
Come down from Heaven 'mongst Oats, and Hay,
That man might find his food as rise,
Yea find his Savior whilst he seeks his Beast.
'It is not the Cloth but Crown that shows the King.
A Cave's a Court,
If there
Appear
The Princes Port.
Wise men, what means your Star, your sparkling thing?
Sure you can read by that Oriental light
What is this stranger,
That makes his Bed,
In this poor Cottage, Crib, and Manger;
Hav'ng nowhere else to lay his Head?
'It is Christ, Earths Joy, Hels Torment, Heavens Delight.
Satan, 'tis Christ my Crown, but Christ thy terror,
Bite if thou dare;
His heel,
I feel,
Is somewhat bare;
But thy bruis'd head shall ever rue thine error.
All wise men do, but foolish sinners do not
Lye prostrated,
Before this Babe,
Being lodged in such a poor straw-beds
Nor, to this new-born child, cry, Ab;
They 're so unwise their Masters crib they know not.
My Lord at eight days old began to bleed
For my disease:
To free
Poor me,
Not for's own ease:
Surely this martyrs blood's the Churches seed.
Then went he to his Temple with his Mother.
One Dove, me thought,
That blessed maid,
Might then have spared, that Lamb be'ng brought
Before the Lord, whose fleece if laid
But rightly on, the worlds whole sin might smother.
From thence, my Lord, posts into Egypt's-land.
Have at thy head,
Black Prince,
For since
Egypt's dark bed
Hath lodged this light, what dungeon can withstand?
When
Bethl'hem
first gave Judah's Lion breath
He boldly wades
Through th' seav'n fold stream:
The Dragons country he invades,
On their own ground thus daring them.
Thence safe returning dwells at Nazareth.
Can any good come thence? fair Nazarene!
Thou dwellest there:
Bu
•
, Lo!
The Snow
Is not so clear
As thou canst make the Black-Moore sinner clean.
At twelve years old my Lord went thence to sit
I'th' Temple, which
Ne'r shines so bright
As when my Savior doth enrich
Its darkened windows with his light,
There sits the child to teach the Doctors wit.
The seav'ntieth week be'ng come, the time foreset,
In
Daniel's
book,
Foretold
Of old:
My Savior took
Baptism to him a type of's bloody sweat:
Then was the water washed that scoures my dress
My God, my Christ:
Thou couldest not need
For thine own sake a
John the Baptist:
But that thou mightest cleanse thy seed,
Thou'rt pleased thus to fulfill all righteousness.
Jordan's the cleaner, Lord, for washing thee:
Hath
John
indeed,
To be
By thee
Baptiz'd, such need?
O my baptized Redeemer! Sprinkle me.
Christ, thence ascending, meets his own dear dove
Descending, while
The bridegroom’s friend,
The
Baptist,
doth both see and smile
Whose ears that heavenly voice attend
O son of all my pleasure, all my love!
From Egypt called, th' baptismall sea be'ng crossed,
My Lord, sets foot
In hast
On th' wast:
Heaven drives him toit;
To learn ith' desert, how to seek the lost.
Now with the Lion doth the Lamb converse
God sends his Child,
His hand to lay;
Upon these Beasts that are most wild
Till he hath taught them to obey:
Tygres, Wolves, Leopards, Beasts most fell and fierce.
My Lord's sent thither sure to learn to tame
Mans brutish heart;
(More wild,
Less mild,)
By dear bought art:
•
o turn the Savage sinner to a Lamb.
The fiery Serpent of the Wilderness
Finding Christ there,
Doth spit and bite;
But th' Brazen Serpents hard and clear,
Scorning the tempters craft and spite,
The Bullet's batt'red, but not the fortress.
Our Lord now learns to fast that we might feast
And to be tempted,
That we
Might be
Thereby exempted:
Or succor'd so as still to have the best.
If thou be th' Christ, this Stone to Bread convert,
Why fool, the Stone,
Which thou wouldst move,
Is Bread already, or there's none,
My Lord was hungry for my love;
Yet he's the strength'ning Bread of poor man's heart.
Taking this Rock thence to a Mountain high,
Saith Satan, See;
If thou
Wilt bow
And worship me:
Those Kingdoms all I will give thee instantly.
Why, fool! Must th' Son buy freedom of a slave,
Hark how thy Chain
Doth clatter at,
Thine heel? My Lord was born to reign:
An Universal Monarchs state,
To him long since Heavens Letters Patents gave.
To th'Temples Pinacle, the Churches Head,
Is hurried next:
Be'ng there,
I hear,
Hell took a Text;
The Wolf by preaching would the Lamb preach dead.
Jump down: 'It is written th'Angels shall thee catch
Say th'Tempters lips;
And that he might
Perswade my Lord to leap, he skips,
Those words should set his Doctrine right
Angels our ways ('tis not our Trespass) watch.
Thy neck-verse found, in reading, dost thou Falter,
Yet seem to preach?
For thee
Can be
No Clergy, Wretch!
Thus
Haman
sometime handsel'd his own halter.
The tempter be'ng at last turned off the Ladder,
My Lord sits still
Be'ng firmer stone,
Then th'wrestling-place, the Pinacle
From whence he threw bold Satan down:
Then th' Angels bring a Chariot from his Father.
This chosen vessel these temptations season.
Now he will begin
To preach
In each
Place he comes in.
BELIEV'S his doctrine; MIRACLES, his reason.
Yet who makes USE? for every tribe but one
This great High Priest,
'Mongst all, doth get
Whom very near his sacred breast
As precious jewels he may set;
And of this twelve, one's but a
Bristow
stone.
For his first proof Christ water turns to wine,
At th' marriage-feast.
O pure!
Sirs, sure
It may be guest
You to your wedding did invite the Vine.
If this free vine doth yield so rich a store;
Who can express
What plenty shall
Flow from thy cross, my God, thy press
When they have bruis'd thy clusters all?
May this Vines blood be my wine evermore!
Well done for th' first: Canst doit again? Lord, do it;
Convert my Verse,
To thine
Own wine,
My water-terse:
Renew thy miracle upon thy Poet.
Soon after to his temple goes my God,
His house of Prayer:
Where th' sheep and dove
Are sold as if there were a fair.
But where is innocence and love?
'It is time, Lord, in thine house to use thy rod.
Doth av'rice with thy temple make thus bold?
The next step hence
That we
Shall see
This sin commence,
The temple of thy body must be sold.
To seek the sun-shine, comes a man by night,
Hav'ng seen the things
My Lord had wrought.
Heavens mysteries my Lord (forth brings
But finds the teacher, how untaught?
Night's most within, but Christ turns all to light.
After, this Fountain, thirsting, seek a well:
But finds a ditch
Within
With sin
All foul, the which
He searcheth first; doth all her doings tell:
Then, by revealing her, himself reveal
To be the Christ:
Samaria finds
What blind Jerus'lem sought and mist.
Thou'rt Christ to all kindreds and kinds,
That by believing set to thee their seal.
Then say's Disciples, Master, eat we pray
But he had got
A meat
To eat
Which they knew not
For he'd gone eating,
working,
all the day.
Be'ng thence returned again to
Galilee,
A Noble man,
For's dying son
Begs a Reprieve of's Sovereign,
The man believed it should be done,
And what he first believed did quickly see.
Happy that Son, whom God's Son quickeneth!
More noble sure,
He is
For this
Even for his care;
Be'ng thus by th'Prince of life repriev'd from death▪
Then to Bethesda's Pool, Salvations Well
Carries a cure
And givesit away;
The Jews this carriage cannot endure,
But think Christ hurts the Sabbath Day,
Whilst he poor man, for whom 'twas made doth heal.
Is there no cure, my God, for unbelief?
'Mongst all thine art,
Doth there
Appear
None to impart,
To this disease a suitable relief.
My Lord invites five thousand to a feast:
No store of dishes
Be'ng dressed or cook'd;
That, by five loves and two small fishes,
Their unbelief might all be chok'd,
Whilst in their mouths their meat's so much increased.
Yet
••
e next day, as if they'd never been fed,
These very men
Do fret,
And whet,
Their teeth agen,
Not to feed on, but to back-bite Heavens Bread.
After, The man born blind to sight's restored
By paste of clay,
Surely I should
Have blinded seeing-eyes that way
Be'ng so far, Lord, from doing good.
Yet Jews in these new eyes, cannot see the Lord.
Thou take'st a living mon'meant from a grave.
Thy foes may see
The dead
Raised;
Yet they'd kill thee,
Oh, my dear Lord, what sign would sinners have?
Devils are all cast out, but unbelief,
Dead Palsies too
Receive their cure;
But Oh, Dead hearts, what aileth you,
That you do more and more obdure.
Not miracles, but blood must cure this grief.
Ah! My dear Lord, the withered hand is healed:
And yet the hand
Of faith
Who hath?
Jews still withstand:
And after all, to whom's thine arm revealed?
Fevers are quenched; yet fury burns amain:
Issues of blood
Are stanched quite:
All evils, but their spleen find good;
And th' bloody issues of their spite.
Oh! how Jews hate the good Samaritan!
Do Pharisees wash oft? Ah! they have need:
Leperds do clear,
But then
These men
The liv'ry wear.
Gebazi's
curse is on them and their seed.
Who cures their Phrensies, cannot their rage allay,
They contradict
The tongue that taught
The dumb to speak: yea when convict
By the strang cures my Savior wrought
In Falling-sicknesses, yet fall away.
Creeples get legs; yet man's opinions halt
Who thou shouldst be:
One while
They smile,
Then lowre on thee;
But thou art still the same: Lord! where's the fault?
For thy good works their hardened hearts do stone thee.
Sure it displeases
That they have health,
And that thou carri'st their diseases;
Scatt'ring amongst thy poor the wealth.
My God, even of thine own how few do own thee!
Oh! how they daily carpe at righteousness!
Life may not live,
If they
But may
The sentence give.
They plot to bring salvation to distress.
To drag the resurrection to the grave:
Earths health to anguish:
How fain would they
See their dear-cheap Physician languish
Who freely cures them all the day.
Him to destroy they plot, he them to save.
My Lord, thy patience is a miracle
'Mongst all the rest
(As we
May see)
None of the least.
My Lord! If I may judge it doth excel.
Oh! how they grudge my Lord his drink and food!
The Bread, the Vine,
Sent down to us,
As be'ng a bibber of much wine
They tax, and call him gluttonous
Who's only greedy for to do them good.
These dunghills to asperse the sun begin.
He casts out evil,
Yet they
Do say
He hath a Devil;
Sinner, they call the fountain ope for sin.
He is the Son o'th' Carpenter, say some;
The Son of God,
You might have said,
Who raised Heavens roof you see so broad,
Such Carpentry's no such mean trade,
Helping to ground-sill all this lower room.
Others object, that they his country know,
The place from whence
He came
Can name,
And how long since.
Why, Sirs, pray when did you to Heaven go?
Then they persuade us that the King speaks treason
Because he makes
Himself to be
God as he is: Because he takes
His own, they cry out robbery.
Lord all men have not Faith, all have not reason.
Sometimes he is not
Caesars
friend, they say,
Who's
Caesars
King.
Yet he,
We see,
Makes fish to bring
Tribute to him, that he may
Caesar
's pay.
Then they cry out, that he's the sinners friend.
But, Oh! that they,
That thus exclaim,
Had rightly known what now they say,
The counsel that to sinners came,
From his dear friendly lips they'd more attend.
To make Christ clash with
Moses
they project.
The great Law-giver
Doth teach
Its breach;
This they deliver
Who would the Copy by the Proof correct.
How sharp their sight to find faults where are none?
But Oh! how dim
For to descry
That radiant deity in him?
And most of all, how blind to spy
Those great prodigious evils of their own?
The Temple he'd destroy, and then rebuild
This, Jews object;
But what
Of that?
Themselves project
How th' Temple of Christ's Body might be killed.
How malice mixed with blindness all misconstr'es!
My Lord so spake
As never did Man:
Yet's words and works too they'll mistake,
Say he, or do he what he can.
To match his miracles they bring forth monsters.
Have Rulers or have Pharisees believed?
The Law we know;
Say those
His foes.
Ah! if towere so
The Law-Maker would sure have been received.
Yet this good Shepherd finds some straggling sheep:
The Gospel-net
Some Fishers takes:
Some at receipt of custom set
Christ's customers his market makes.
And what he finds he'll spend his life but keep.
Some wise and noble too, although not many
King Jesus Court
Can show:
And so
To keep his Fort
There's one Centurion, Lord 'tis well there's any.
Mary
th' unclean from whom as many Devils,
As muddy
Nile
Hath streams, are cast:
Each flood had its own Crocodile:
Yet she becomes one stream at last
Of Gospel-penitence for all her evils.
Christ's feet washed with her tears her hair makes dry:
And Christ agen
With blood
Makes good
Her ways unclean:
And with forgiveness wipes the weepers eye.
A
Canaanite
to th' King of
Hebrews
comes,
Begs and implores
At
Israel's
feast
Some succor from those sacred stores
That Jesus for the Jews had dressed.
Whilst Children slight their bread, she leaps at crumbs.
A little man, but sinner not the least
Climbes up on high
That he
The tree
Of life might spy;
And in the fruitless
Sycamore
a feast.
Mary,
the Lord's
Messiah,
doth anoint;
Disciples grudge,
And thinkit too good
For him who thinketh not too much
To spend on them his precious blood.
See how one
Judas
puts all out of joint?
Be'ng thus anointed Christ as King appears,
And forth doth go,
As King
Riding
To
Zion
so.
Who brings salvation, him an
Ass-Colt
bears:
Thus foolish things, and things that men despise
The Lord doth choose;
That this dumb
Ass
Might preach performance to the Jews
Of what of old forespoken was;
And Christ by weakness might confound the wise
Judah!
thy sceptr
•
's gone but
Shiloh
's come.
Jerusalem!
Look out,
And shout,
For
David's
stem
Now springs a fresh in thy Law-givers room.
Children, by their
Hosannahs
loudly cried,
Do testify
My Savior's praise,
That he might still his foes thereby,
His Name these Babes and sucklings rais
•
,
Whilst th' Elders and the Fathers him deride.
Thus whilst the Fathers fall ith' Wilderness,
Children inherit;
Why, lo
Even so
It pleased the Spirit,
What men deny, to teach poor Babes confess.
What Jews reject poor Greeks make friends to see.
Zion,
take heed
Thou be nit the hive
That others doth with honey feed,
Not tasting what itself doth give;
Whilest Gentiles steal away thy Christ from thee.
What needs more proof? my Lord puts on the rack
Devils themselves
(Though Jews
Refuse,
As worser elves)
Till they to him a full confession make.
Would you believe, if your high Priest should tell
Or who's the Christ,
Should testify?
Sure your own
Caiaphas
little mist
Saying, 'twas meet this man should die
For th' people, that they perish not: GO-SPELL:
How sweetly sings this Swan before them all!
Though envy fumes
His skin
Within
His whited plumes,
Their High Priest sings Heavens High Priests Funeral.
Thus men teach Parrots speak, but what they know not;
The High Priest cries
(And surely he
Should know) this man's your Sacrifice.
Yet Christ their Savior must not be:
My Lord, men do confess thee though they do not.
This Sacrifice the Priest plots how to kill,
And yet there was
More Priest
In Christ
Then
Caiaphas.
Thus types the truth, shadows would substance spil.
Innocent Lamb! although thou knew'st this plot,
Yet, Oh! how fain
Would'st thou get up
To be in read'ness to be slain
'Gainst th' Passover; that all might sup?
My Lord, thou seest thy death but shun'st it not.
This is the Paschal Lamb, sure I may call it
Immaculate;
O God,
Thy Blood
Sprinkles my gate:
Yet is thy bitter grief my bitter sallet.
I' th' upper room my Lord bespeaks the feast
For his dear Friends;
That they might know
That from above their cheer descends;
Who'l Feast with Christ must upwards go.
But, Oh! how dear for all pays this dear guest
Desiring I have desired this feast to eat
With you, before
I go
Unto
The other shore.
Oh! how my Lord hungers to be my meat?
Yet Friends, there's something I must sadly say:
You're not all clean,
'Mongst you doth fit
(The man that dips with me, I mean)
A Devil, yet an Hypocrite,
That shall this night the God of truth betray.
'It is my Purse-bearers plot his Lord to sell
Who had him bought:
The wretch
To Preach
I sometime taught,
But not to sell me, or himself to Hell.
Judas!
canst thou find death in such a Pot?
Plot such a matter
Against thy Master?
Whilst thy sop softens in my platter,
Who of each dish make thee a taster,
Hardens thy heart the whilst,
Iscariot?
Will nothing serve but sops in blood next meal?
My Purse, my dish
Were free
To thee
What more couldest wish?
Wretch! what thou dost do quickly: Run, and sell.
Pensive Disciples when they hear, and know it,
Each fears for one:
But he that bears
The bag, is lag; perditions Son
He is the last that doubts or fears:
Slow to confess, but Oh! how swift to do it.
Come children take this bread, 'tis broke for you:
Much good mayit do you;
'It is dressed,
And blest,
Take it unto you,
And therewithal my broken body too.
Come my Disciples, here's an health likewise
To you, not me:
Let it go round,
Salvations cup's the cup you see:
Your health is in my bloody wound,
Think of my blood as oft as ye drink this.
Your Makers broken Law, your bloody sin,
And bleeding heart
Bring me
To see
And feel this smart.
Who would Hell conquer must with death begin.
My Testament I leave you sealed in blood:
You I bequeath
When ere I die
Full conquest over sin and death
With life and peace; which by and by
I the Testator by my death make good.
Pledge me, dear friends, this blood was broach'd for you
I will drink no more
Of wine
Oth'
•
ine,
Till be'ng got ore,
I may in Fathers kingdom drink it new.
Come let's now sing, saith Christ, see'ng all my sorrow
Is but your Crown:
Thorns at the breast
Make music, when the Spirit's down,
Yea sometimes music of the best;
Let's sing to night, for I must die tomorrow.
My Lord then riseth up from whence he sat
Whom winds obey,
And seas
With these,
Disciples may
Now see him, that he may be gracious, WAITE.
Sure whilst my Savior SERVES, whoever came
See'ng him so dressed,
Waiting on all
Girt with a Napkin, scarce had guest
This were the feast of's Funeral,
But Marriage Supper rather of the Lamb.
After the wine my Lord doth water take;
Heaven stoops to meet,
And bow
As low
As sinners feet.
Oh what clean work Christ's Blood and Spirit makes.
Peter,
thou thinkest that I stoop down too low,
And sai'st I shall
N'ere wash thy feet;
Then canst thou have no part at all
In
David's
Son, nor be made meet
I th' new Jerusalem's clean streets to go,
Streets that are pure as gold and clear as glass:
This Basin is
Thy way
I say
To this fair bliss:
Israel
to
Canaan
must through
Jordan
pass.
Sirs, see you what I h've done, and do you know it?
You call me well
Say'ng I am your Lord:
If I then stoop, Oh! never swell.
If I have washed your feet, afoard
You to do likewise: Happy if you do it.
Servants, my Livery you must wear is Love.
This bowl's my Spirit,
Which I
Now die
That you may 'nherit:
The Lamb goes hence that he may send the Dove.
Oh may this towell bind your hearts in one!
My bending down,
Teach them to bow!
May pride and sinful passions drown
In this full Basin. Men shall know
By this that your are mine when I am gone.
Gone? I will go too, saith
Peter,
Lord I will
What are comes on it.
Oh no!
Not so;
'It is a sore brunt.
Best metal melts when men their Maker kill.
Nay Lord, though all men run, I will stand by thee:
Run friends or foes,
Foes to pursue,
Or friends to scape the hands of those.
Poor man I will tell thee what's more true,
Ere th' Cock crow twice I thrice denied must be.
Su
•
e
Peters
courage strangely is come on.
My Passion, lo!
He did
Forbid,
Now he'll die too.
Yet when the shepherd dies, the sheep will run.
Let not your hearts be troubled, but believe
In God and Mee.
I ride before
To see things may in red'ness be,
Behold I will meet you at the door:
My Fathers house can me and you receive.
Whither I go ye know, and th' way ye know.
Saith
Thomas,
Nay
Lord, we
Canit see
Which is the way,
For we, alas! know nit whither thou dost go.
Thomas,
I am the true and living way.
My flesh I gave,
(Knowest thou me)
A path-way unto Heaven to pave,
Cemented with my blood to be,
So that who walks in me cannot go astray.
Shew us the Father, Lord, that's all our bliss;
Doth
Philip
say.
How long
Among
You must I stay,
Ere you know me, saith Christ, why here he is.
Judas
replies, but not th'
Iscariot,
Lord
How isit that thou
Thy self to us,
But not unto the world, dost show
Thy blessed self revealing thus:
Why, I will doit to all that keep my word,
Peace I leave with you, my peace I you give,
Not as the world,
When here
And there
You're test and hurled,
The sweetest calm shall then your hearts relieve.
Friends, if you love me let me go, donit grieve me.
Oh! how your sobs
Do antedate
My Passion! O my pulse vies throbs.
Oh let my grief in yours abate;
My fathers arms are ready to receive me.
Sirs, I cannot stay to talk yonder's the Prince
The world that swaies.
O see
How he
Doth's legions raise;
Yet of one single fault cannot me convince.
I am the vine, ye branches bring forth fruit:
My blood's your sap:
My blood's your seed:
'It is well for you that others tap
The vessel, that the vine may bleed:
The hand that empties me doth you recruit.
O if you love yourselves let me go send
That guid to you
That shall
Even all,
Even all things show.
I h've much to speak which you cannot yet attend.
A little while I disappear, Anon
I am seen agen;
For to the Father
I go, say they, what may this mean,
This little while? we cannot gather.
Why, Friends, when Winter's over, Spring comes on.
Truth, Lord! we now believe. Ah do you so?
Just now comes on
An hour
Whose shower
Will make you run,
Whilst solitary to my grave I go.
Yet am I not alone: O blessed Father!
Thou'rt with me still:
Now glorify
Thy Son, thy Son: when
Butchers
kill
Thy Lamb, Oh take me up on high
And thine and mine Lord with me, to me gathe
•
:
These are thy stock I kept and did improve them.
For these I pray,
And all
That shall
Their word obey.
Lord, here's thine own again; O keep them, love them!
Then his Disciples forth my Lord doth lead.
Cedron
ith' way
Makes me bethink
What th' Psalmist of th' Hi
•
h Priest do say,
He of the brook ith' way shall drink
Therefore he shortly shall lift up the head.
Thence they together to the garden pass,
Where grew that store
That can
Fall'n man
Make as before:
Sure my Redeemers RVE'S that herb of grace.
'Twas in a garden
Adam
did undo us
There grew that fruit
Whose bitterness,
That man forever might not rueit,
My Lord did taste and squeeze and press:
Then from a Garden brings our cure unto us.
O mount of Olives! O
Gethsemane!
To all else yet
A soil
Of Oil!
Of bloody sweat
Only to me—sinner! here's Oil for thee.
Sirs, sit you here,
Peter,
and
James
and
John,
Oh! I begin
To feel such smart
Amazeth me that n'ere knew sin:
Yet how it cuts my very heart!
Sirs, sit you down. I must pray or I am gone.
This cup, this cup, O Father! may it pass!
This cup, this cup
Mayit pass!
Alas!
Must I drinkit up?
Why, all thy vials dregs are in this glass.
Ah! friends your heav'ness doth augment mine too.
How can your eyes
Continue shut
So near such strong and bitter cries?
Dullness, I now perceive, can cut:
Will you not watch with him that's sick for you?
You three of all I chose for sentiness:
I bade you lie
•
erdieu,
But you
Sleep, though I die.
Yet in weak flesh a willing spirit dwells.
But though my foot-guard sleeps, mine horse men watch
Though men do grieve me
Yet at the length
Mine Heav nly Angel doth relieve me,
Heavens succors reinforce my strength.
Sin do thy worst now, thou'st meet with thy match,
Yet, Oh this cup! this cup! Lord let it pass
Ifit be thy will;
Yet thine
Not mine
Perform thou still.
Thy scalding wrath, Lord, cracks my brittle glass.
Sin ent'red man at first but by one hole:
But every pore
Throughout my skin,
My God! my God! becomes a door
Whence blood goes out whilst wrath comes in.
Such anger, through thine anger, melts my soul.
Can you get sleep, whilst in this scalding ba
•
h
I melt away,
Blood-wet
In sweat?
Sirs, think I pray,
'It is for your fevers sake of sin and wrath.
What, can I not one hours short watch obtain?
One hours? I say.
Oh! you will be tempted;
Watch, for your own sakes then, and pray:
Oh! pray that you may be exempted.
There are no vapors left in my parched brain:
I am past all sleeping now, but the sl
•
ep of death.
But, Oh! let pass
This cup!
Drinkit up.
Thy sword, Alas!
In thine own fellow-shepherd dost thou sheath?
Oh! how thy wrath my flow'r to hay converts!
My bones do stare,
My flesh consumes,
My skin is parched, as bottles are
I' th' smoke, Lord, through thine angry fumes.
Disciples, now sleep on, and rest your hearts.
This restless night of mine procures for you
A day of peace;
My show'rs,
Your flow'rs,
Your joys increase.
Never did night yield such a blessed dew:
Honey to mine, though Gall and Blood to me:
I mean those drops
Which from my brow
Bedew the ground. Sinners, what crops
May your dear Lord expect from you?
Bu
•
now let's rise; you Traitour comes, I see.
Your Savior's given into sinners hands.
Judas!
Ar
•
come?
Thou 'lt soon
Be gone
Hence to thine home.
Whilst thou twists mine, I faster knit thy bands.
Thou send'st me to my cross: But I will be even.
Thou shalit hang first,
Thief that thou art!
Thou'st broke thy faith, and thou shalt burst
A sunder, false perfidious heart!
'It is fit such pay be to such traitors given.
Into the second
Adam
's garden creep
Dost thou, Serpent?
That way
Betray
The innocent?
Me thinks thou smil'st as Crocodiles do weep.
Canst kiss, and court me still? Hail! Master, Hail!
'Twas sometimes said,
O kiss the Son
Lest he be wroth, and strike you dead
Sure thy kiss is not such a one.
With unbelievers, Hypocrites shall wail.
Judas,
thou knowest mine haunt. I th' very place
Me to betray
Just there
Even where
With me to pray
Thy feigned lips were wont, hast thou the face.
What means thy search? wretch, thou art the fugitive
Your Lanthorn light,
Sirs, also shows
Your works are darkness, and you night▪
Why force you what I donit refuse?
Is it my life you seek? 'tis that I give.
Jesus of
Nazareth
you're come to take;
Why I am he.
They all
Down fall.
Can majesty
Upon such Rebels such impression make?
My Lord, thou needest nor flee, nor
Peter
draw?
They run, they run:
Backwards they fall:
Yet, to be taken, thou comest on,
Yielding thyself unto their thrall,
Who cannot slip thy curb from off their jaw.
Servants are let go free, while th' master's bound
Bold
Peter
now,
To show his
Prowess,
Is word and blow.
But the meek pris'ner gently cures the wound.
Thou chid'st thy Champion, while thou friend'st thy foe,
Sweet Prince of peace!
The wounds of foes
Thou'dst rather heal with gentleness;
Then thine should steel to flint oppose.
Peter
's too hot to hold, I fear me so.
What mean your swords and staves? sirs! who's the thief:
You've stol'n the fruit,
And yet
Are set
To make pursuit.
I have only stol'n the punishment and grief.
Was I not with you in the temple still?
Have you forgot
My Sermons there?
Yet all that while ye took me not.
And must I now these shacles wear?
Th'
Essentiall
must the
written
word fulfill.
See, my Disciples leave me and they fly:
Each shifts for one:
And so
I too
Could well have done:
But, lo! my bondage is their liberty.
Thus bound they drag me to the high Priest first,
Who am the goat
Doom'd thus to die
More by Heavens counsel then their plot,
For sin, in mine Humanity;
Which though it knew no sin, for sin's accurst.
Then they confess over my guiltless head
Their sins, not mine:
Yet I
Did cry,
Something divine
You will find hath
scaped
your hands when I am dead.
In my two natures I am both Goats in one:
Can die, yet scape;
Can scape, yet
die:
I can discharge first
Adams
rape,
Then second
Adams
bands untie.
Sinner, I must do both, or thou art undone.
False witness they suborn 'mongst faithless Jews.
Such is their grudge
Their Lord
They 'ccord
To death t' adjudge.
Though witnesses agree not, that accuse.
Art thou the Christ? they captiously inquire.
Not for to know
As sometime did
Johns
dear Disciples, but to throw
Mine own confessions at mine head.
They watch my words with an enflam'd desire:
This
Mary
sometimes did, but not as they;
Not life, but death
They watch
And catch
From my dear breath,
Both to themselves and me this bloody day.
Peter
steals to their fire, to melt, not fight:
Mine seldom warm
Themselves with such
But quickly rue their dear-bought harm,
Saying the warmth's not half so much.
Sirs, isit so this morn? 'twas hot ith' night;
I felt it so. Nor find I ought yet cool,
Except it be
The love
Even of
My friends to me,
Whilst enemies my wisdom fain would fool.
The High Priest rends his clothes but not his heart
Then all condemn me
The Hall throughout,
Who must judge all: Abjects contemn me,
Whom Angels do admire, they flout.
They are the
Ishma'ls,
I bear
Isaac's
part.
Then they blindfold mine eyes, to whom the night
Shines as the day:
I cannot,
Sure, want,
Who gave away
So many eyes to others wanting sight.
Oh! how these Bats project to blind the Sun!
Moles plot and think
(How wise they are?)
With a poor clout thus to hood-wink
Jacob's
true bright and morning star.
Indeed ifit could, you've need it should be done.
How they to make me like themselves devise?
I, and they, wink:
They see
Not me;
And so they think
I cannot see them, although I made their eyes.
Others, for spite, spit on my blessed face,
Which
Moses,
and
Elias
too,
Did once ith' mount admiring stand
Transfigur'd then, disfigur'd now.
How men bespatter God's own looking-glass.
These pot sheards then their potter smite with rods.
My white and ruddy
These foes
With blows
Make black and bloody:
I am boxed by slaves, who rule among the God's.
Then prophesy who smote thee, some do cry.
Alas! who not?
Yet I will impart;
Me, for my
seed,
my Father smote;
But never did mine own clean heart.
Scorners, go read
Isaiah
's Prophesy.
He did esteem me stricken of my God;
That stripes on me,
My smart
Of heart,
Mans cure might be:
Man did the fault, and I must feel the rod.
Peter,
I doubt thy courage will soon cool
At that same fire;
Th' Ague'll come on:
Satan to sift thee did desire.
Now
Peter
prove thee rock and stone.
My dear Disciple, do nit deny my school.
Oh! at first charge, I see, my Champion's laid!
The shield, the shield
Of faith
He hath
Near lost this shield.
Who played the man 'mongst men, falls by a maid.
Whom flesh and blood revealed not, flesh and blood
Can teach deny,
Even his dear Lord;
Constant to's own inconstancy.
Even as if this had been his word,
I will deny, not die, to this he stood.
Oh! my poor fisher's caught the second time.
I said, abide
In me,
O ye
Will quickly slide:
But now it seems to b
•
of me
's a crime.
Then others cry, this man's of
Nazareth.
He by and by
With cu sing doth
Me, tha
•
hav
•
born his curse, deny:
〈…〉
e
•
rs
〈◊〉
•
now
•
not what he know'th
Peter,
they say they smell thee by thy breath
To be of me, Oh! that I could so say!
Sirs, donit you hear?
The man
Can ban,
Can curse and swear.
That he's of me, Sirs, doth such speech bewray?
Surely you know my speech no more then me.
Peter
denies
His Christ—so crew
The Bird that wakes the sleepers eyes;
I looked on
Peter,
then he knew
The Cock his Masters Monitour to be.
Peter
thus finding all crow over him
Runs forth to weep;
His soul
Now foul
To wrinse and steep;
Even in a spring-ride of salt tears to swim.
I have denied my Lord, my Lord that's dying:
I have denied
My Lord, my Lord
Whom I confessed, professed; be'ng tried
I have renounced his and my word;
My Lord that bought me I have been denying.
Now his hot fit's come on. My Christ, when ever,
Through thou knowest what,
Thee I
Deny
In word or thought;
Oh! give me
Peters
sweat, in
Peters
fever.
By this time is my dooms days dawning come.
Their rightful King
Jews having bound
Before an alien Judge do bring.
That guilt ith' guiltless might be found,
Butchers object, but I the Lamb, lie dumb.
Herod,
and
Pontius Pilate,
Gentiles, Jews
Counsel and plot:
I am
The Lamb
Must go to pot:
Satan is at mine heel, which he will bruise.
Who art? and, what is truth?
Pilate
enquires,
Be'ng strange to both,
I find it so:
Yet to my blood shed lag and loath,
Whilst mine own people raging go
To burn King
David's
branch with Gentile fires.
Take him yourselves, saith
Pilate;
Jewish men,
Ease your own grudge.
Say they
We may
No man adjudge
To death. Our
Scepter's gone.
Where's
Shiloh
then?
See you your wants? not what ye have, O ye?
Why,
Shiloh
's come:
My white and ruddy
This wine and milk, though I be dumb
Speaks it; this innocence thus bloody.
This is your
Shiloh
's garment: cannot you see?
'It is not so long, O thou my city! since
Hosannahs,
cried
In thee
To me,
Me testified;
Thy people gath'ring round about their Prince
'It is not so long since I did bind my fole,
Mine Asses Colt,
Unto my vine;
To thee,
Jerus'lem,
now revolt;
That I might wash my weeds in wine,
Whilst to the death I am pouring out my soul.
Judas
meanwhile, consid'ring all that's done
Through his foul sin,
Relents
Repents
And brings agen
That dung-hill dirt for which he sold the Sun.
For's thirty pieces, thirty thousand woes
Oppress his heart.
Then to his Priest,
I have sin'd, and th' innocent must smart.
The wretch be'ng shriven, so confessed.
See thou to that, say th' Priests, see thou to those.
Oh! to what lead doth
ill-got
silver turn?
Judas
cannot bear
The weight
Of it;
Yet 'twas his dear:
Oh! takeit agen. My fingers burn, they burn.
Into the treas'ry this they dare not cast:
Oh! 'tis not good,
Poor men they dare not;
Oh! 'tis the price, the price of blood!
And yet to spill that blood they spare not:
Thus
Gnats
do stick, whilst
Camels
go down fast.
They take the money first, and then dispute
Wheth'r 't should be so.
Mean while
The vile
Traitour doth go,
Be'ng
self-condemned
himself to execute.
A bloody piece of Charity's the end.
The Potters field,
That strangers might
Be buri'd there, to buy they yield
Not burying there their own strange spite.
Thus kind to strangers, whilst they kill their friend.
Mean while me at a
godly price
men hold;
Hereto it's come,
One field
Can yield
As great a sum,
As doth the Maker of the world when sold.
Now th' Judge of all stands bound at
Pilate's
bar.
Great God is tried
For's life, by man:
Yet by this stranger justified,
Say mine own people what they can.
Hurried to
Her
•
d
next, and's men of war.
Herod
forsooth would see a miracle
And doth, whilst I
Sustain
Disdain
So patiently,
Who could scoule these proud scorners quick to Hell.
In white and splendid raiment then, from thence
I am re-conveyed
To my first judge.
('Twixt whom and
Herod
peace is made
They in my blood can sink their grudge)
Wearing the type of my clear innocence
Saith
Pilate,
see nor I nor
Herod
can
His crime descry
Why he
Should be
Condemn'd to die;
Will you, this feast, that I release this man?
Take him, and scourge him, scourge him as you list,
Oh! What I feel!
My God, what lashes!
Think you my back is stone or steel
Like your hard hearts? O gage these gashes?
And spare your rod, or tell me wherefore isit.
Yet doth mine hand still sway that iron-rod,
Wherewith I can
All those
My foes,
Even as one man,
In pieces break; and make them know I am God.
Who would have thought all government were laid
Upon these shoulders,
Thus rent and torn
By cruel stripes? yet they are th' upholders
Whereon both globes oth' world are born;
A load that's light to th'stripes of them that strai'd.
I am the fruitful field now plow'd in furrows,
That every sin
Might have
Its grave
To wither in.
I am the rock, these holes are sinners burrows.
Princes, whilst under
Paedagogues
they be,
Can stand and see,
When they've transgressed,
Sub
•
ects whipt for it, why,
Pilate
me,
Thou'st innocent and king confessed,
Yet for my people's faults I am scourged by thee.
Pilate,
thou thinkest these bloody stripes may cease
Their bloody cry,
But blood
'So good,
They'll drink them dry,
And their Hydropick thirst will more increase.
Alas! thou thinkest to seal me a release
From blood in gore,
But 'twill not be
Till I have emptied all my store.
Then, sinner, there's release for thee.
So dearly must I buy my Subjects peace.
Pilate's
own wife becomes mine advocate:
Her sufferings in
Her dream,
To them
She doth begin,
So to prevent my Passion, to relate.
But who can harden his soft cowardice.
To take my part,
And shield my right?
Or molifie their hardened heart
To quit their spleen, or scirrhous spite?
Pilate,
have naught to do with Christ, she cries:
Woman, thy husband's like to 've nothing sure
With me to do:
Whilst he
For me
No heart can show;
But to condemn, whom he acquits, endure.
Pilate's
own Lady plays the nursing mother;
Whilest Jews reject,
Builders refuse
Fair
Zion's
precious stone elect
Which for the corner God will use.
'Ware
Pilate
lest this crowd thy conscience smother.
Pilate
and I have two hard parts to play;
Pilate,
to please
All those
My foes,
Yet me release:
I, to make Heaven and earth good friends this day.
Time after time he questions and approves
Mine innocence;
And tells the Jews
That clearly that's all mine offense:
And doth the oil of courtship use,
Which either more enflames, or nothing moves.
Pilate
hangs first 'twixt two be'ng crucified,
Conscience and fear:
The Rout
Without
For blood appear:
By
Pilate's
Privy Counsel 'tis denied.
Will you, saith
Pilate,
I release your King,
Or
Barabbas
The Murderer?
The Man of Men the Monster was
Yet
Barabbas
they all prefer
Blood upon blood thus on themselves they bring.
Now, O ye Heavens, stand astonished!
And thou, bright Sun,
Be gone:
Get on
Thy mourning gown!
That when I
bow
mine, thou mayest
hide
thinehead.
Let
Gad'rens
now for kind commended be;
Yet they preferred
Their herd of swine,
But no
Barabbas
in that Herd.
But, Oh! the hoggishness of mine,
Even of mine only people unto me!
Why even these Butcher's trade's a mystery.
There is a skill
That they
This day
Have learnt to fill
Their hands with blood: and that before I die.
The murder and the murd'rer all's their own
Whilst they thus choose:
And oh! what wonder?
What fitter head, for bloody Jews,
Than this
Barabbas,
to list under;
Whilst from their head they cast off me their crown?
My Christ, there's yet a sweeter mystery:
Innocent breath
I see
In thee
Condemn'd to death;
That th' chief of sinners might escape thereby.
What shall I do then with your King, saith he.
Him Crucify,
Cries all the rout:
Oh let him, let him, let him die!
As if they could not live without
His blood, no more can I Lord, give it me.
Why, but saith
Pilate,
tell me what's his crime,
Or take him you.
Away,
Say they,
Let him die now.
To find his fault would ask too long a time,
Whilst all can tell me how, none can tell why
I should be killed.
Sirs, is 't because
I gave you good and righteous Laws
Which you have broke, and I fulfilled?
Must I because I let you live, now die?
Or is it for some injuries of old!
In
Egypt,
and
In the
Red Sea,
And desert Land,
Whereof your Fathers Fathers have you told?
Or isit because I said I came from God
To bring a new
And great Salvation,
Greater then th' first, to thee, O Jew!
Proving my mission to my Nation,
By an all-conquering wonder-working Rod?
Is it because your dumb can speak, that I am
Cry'd out against?
'Gainst me
Are ye,
O Jews! incenst
Because of all my cures? are they my crime?
Is it because your dead are raised, that I
Am grudge'd my breath?
Grudg'd what I give?
Am I therefore condemned to death?
Dosit therefore grieve you that I live?
Why, I shall quicken the more, when ere I die.
Then
Pilate
puts me in the soldiers hands:
They plat a Crown:
Alas!
It was
A thorny one
Which he must wear, who Heaven and Earth commands.
Why, I am
Isra'ls
King: and him I found
Ith' Wilderness,
That howling waste,
Whose Music these outcries express;
Whose only fruits are thorns, I taste:
Cloath'd with their sins I am with their thorns too crowned.
Thus I with sinners change, 'tis well for them:
Their thorney Crown
So worn,
And born,
I make mine own,
Yielding for it an heavenly diadem.
Israel,
that so long brought me no sweet Cane,
Now puts me off
With a poor weed:
For sacrifice, they bring a scoff:
And for my scepter, bring a reed;
Yet by me Princes rule and Kings do reign.
Then in Purple Robe they me invest:
But that same color
I wore
Before,
Through stripes and dolour,
Both on my scourged back and tortured breast.
Then gath'ring round, even as they lift, they flout me.
Hail King! they cry;
And bow the knee,
But not their hearts: (Why, truly I
Ever had some that so serve me)
Breathing disdain yet cannot they breath without me.
They rend my flesh, the temples of mine Head
They smite with reeds:
But I
Surely
Shall quit their deeds,
By rending veil and Temple when I am dead.
In strange disguise (for so are Princes wont
When as they pass
Through strangers lands,
And such
Judea
is, alas!
To me, whilst I am in such hands:)
Brought forth I am that Priests might me confront
A ruthful spectacle! a man of grief!
Laden with woes!
With thorns;
With scorns
Of bitter foes!
Will not the Priest and Levite yield relief?
Whither, oh! whither, would I, could I fly?
Shall I repair
To th' Alters side?
Spight is there hottest. There they are
That first cried, be he Crucified.
Away, say they, O let him, let him die.
We have a Law, the Son of Death he is
God's Son to be
That makes
Or takes,
Himself here's he.
Sirs do not quote the
Second Psalm
for this.
Pilate
an Heathen, dreads my reverend name,
Which Jews despise:
Enquires the more
Whence I am? whence my kingdom is?
Not of this world, I h'd said before:
So, he my dumbness, I his deafness blame.
Of what he asks I did the truth impart,
And told him so:
But he
'Gan flee
The truth as though
It were some Ghost or Mormo
Truth! what art?
With's power of life and death he then doth brave me,
Who hold the keys
Of
David
still
To shut and open as I please,
To bind and loose all as I will,
For such Command'meant God my Father gave me:
Yet
Pilate's
Conscience in his face still flies:
Now he projects
How me
To free;
But all th' effects
T' enflame their fury, double their out-cries.
Yet in their anger so much wit they have
As to compound
Some thing to calm
Poor
Pilate's
Conscience, why, they've found
Some
simples
sovereign as balm;
Oh! 'twas good satisfaction that they gave.
Thou art not Caesars friend if this man go.
Now take your Christ,
Fullfill
Your will,
Do what you list
With him, Jews, so I sentence, and so do.
Thus he and I swim down one stream this day.
Yet the poor man
Found want of water,
Call'd for a Basin, and began
To wash him from this bloody matter:
Which nothing can, but what he gav
•
away.
Truly his washing clears not him, but me:
He doth proclaim,
That I
Now die
A spotless Lamb:
Then, wretch, what Ocean can compurgate thee?
Pilate,
upon us and our children fling
Thou this man's blood:
We Jews, thus wish.
Is this your so much longed for food,
To you of all th' forbidden dish?
Pilate
then cries, ye Jews, behold your King.
We have no King but
Caesar,
they reply.
Sirs, you forget
Whose hour
Of power
This is as yet.
Satan's your
Caesar,
more then he or I.
Satan, not
Caesar,
bad you plot my fall:
That Prince of Hell,
Philistia
's King
Plows with mine heifer,
Israel:
Thu
•
to mine end, mine own me bring.
Yet
Samson's
death's
Philistia
's Funeral.
The Purple Robe then strip they from my back;
Which plainly shows
It's worn
And born
For sinners use,
That of my Righteousness they might partake.
Thus is the truth stripped naked: And agen
My seamless coat
They make me wear
Unto mine execution-plot,
That by my sweet atonement there
I might an Union weave 'twixt God and Men,
Thence to the place of Souls, Lo! I their Head
The tree accurst,
Before
It bore
Me, bear it first;
Till I, by bearing it, am almost dead.
Thus mine may learn in me, what burden he
Must daily bear,
Taking his cross,
That in my ways will persevere,
Reck'ning death gain, counting life loss:
Who stumbles at my cross, cannot follow me.
Now are my groans new pickled in friends tears,
They'd steal, I spy,
This tree
From me,
By Sympathy;
Which by constraint
Simon
of
Cyrene
bears.
But weep not, Daughters of
Jerusalem!
For me at all
But for your City:
Alas! who can prevent thy fall,
Who show'st thy builder no more pity?
If they do thus to th' green tree, woe to them!
T
•
us under
Pilate's
sentence, and command
O th'
Roman
state,
That all
May fall
On
Rome's
proud Pate;
I th' place of Crucifixion, lo! I stand.
Rome!
thou art that
Sodom, Egypt, Babylon,
Though Misticall;
Drunken with blood
Of all my Martyrs, mine withal
Now mingling with thy
•
ybers flood.
Rome
's stored with crosses and now lends me one!
Not
Jabbathah
but
Golgotha
's the stage
The Camp without;
Where I
Must die
'Mongst all the rout,
Tasting at once both
Hells
and
Heavens
Rage.
Why I am the great Sacrifice for sin,
And therefore must
Without the gate
Unto the Earth commend my dust,
Whilst my dear blood doth expiate
From all transgressions that those are within.
Behold, my dear Disciple, my dear Mother!
Her I bequeath
To thee,
To be
After my death
Provided for as by her Son, my Brother.
Now see your Brazen Serpent lift, on high,
Upon the pole!
My bloody cross
Bears fruit to quit what
Adam
stole:
Justice, I find, may nit go by th' loss,
Yet grace shall reign by righteousness, hereby.
Oh! how I am stretched and tortured on this tree!
Oh! how each vein,
And nerve
Doth serve
A sev'rall pain!
'Twas man grew loose, and I must straitened be.
Oh! how those hands, I stretched forth all the day,
To
Israel,
Are stretched again?
That as my Patience did excel,
So now I might exceed in pain;
Whilst sinners to mine heart find open way.
Oh! how my feet, that nere took step awry,
Are pierced through!
Made fast
In hast
My cross unto;
Till the transgressors may find time to fly.
I am
the door,
they nail me to the tree:
And, as is fit,
Over this gate
A royal
superscription
's writ
That in
all tongues
might preach my state.
Oh! all ye that pass by, turn in by me.
To th' cross I am hing'd in mine humanity.
That from the floor
Even each
Might reach
That living door
Whose upper hinge clasps in with th'Deity.
Romans,
and
Greeks,
and
Hebrews,
come and look:
These open arms
Shew th' open way,
How by mine, you may case your harms;
And may become one fold this day:
I am the shepherd, and my cross the crook.
I am the shepherd, and my crook, the cross;
Whereby I gather
And keep
My sheep,
And thine, O Father!
I will suffer death, ere thou shalt suffer loss.
Living, my bread of life among my Jews
I ever brake,
For 'twas their right;
Who whilst they spread these arms, do make
A feast for Gentiles through their spite;
That, dying, I might none, that come, refuse.
Come unto me all ye that laden be
With sin and wrath;
Come ye
To me;
O come in faith.
I will bear your burdens whilst my Cross bears me.
Mine hands are not so nailed, but that I can
Even with these nails
Still pick the lock
Hung on your heel, if your key fails:
But whilst I preach, alas! they mock.
If thou be
th'Christ
be thine own
Jesus,
man.
Why Jews remember what your high Priest taught
How needful 'twas
That I
Should die,
That th'cup might pass
My people, whilst I drink their bloody draught.
But, oh
Jerusalem!
canst laugh at me?
And at my griefs?
As thou didst know
My pressures to be thy reliefs;
Repent, believe; and be it so.
But laugh not at me who h've wept over thee,
And yet weep blood, for this thy stupid state.
Father, I pray
Reprieve,
Forgive
These foes for they
Alas! my God, they do they know not what.
They curse, I bless: I pray whilst they revile.
Whilst Priests do scoff
And sore disdain
The Sacrifice that comes not off
Th' Altar, but suffers to be slain,
My blood makes intercession all the while.
Who'd rase then raise the Temple (this is he)
In three days space;
Yet he,
We see,
Canit quit this place
Where all the nails that hold him, are but three
Yet mock not, passenger; wag not thine head
In so much scorn,
When thou thinkest least,
When I this bitter death have borne,
To earnest I'
•
soon turn thy jest;
And raise this Temple ereit be three days dead,
Come down say some, and so convince thy foes:
Which if I should
How sore
A store
Of wrath, and blood,
Would come down too? Sirs, I bear of your blows.
With the transgressors numbered am I:
On either side,
Truth be'ng between,
Falsehood and theft hang crucified;
Yet if Heavens Rolls these men had seen
They'd found me in another Trinity.
But, oh my grief! not only mine own Nation
But those, that be
Justly
To die,
First scoff at me;
Their partner not in crimes, but condemnation.
Yet can I not forget my dear Compassions:
Though both reproach
And flout at me,
My blood for sinners since I broach,
I will not suffer both to be
At once partakers of two condemnations
Th' one I call home though in th' eleventh hour:
And thereby show
How kind
A mind
I bear to you
That turn, though late, to me your Savior.
But oh his rare Conversion! oh how he
Justifies God!
Rebukes his mate!
Open his sin! kisseth his rod!
Takes me for Lord, beseeching that
In my Salvation he might sharer be.
Thus on my Cross I work a new Creation:
Loosing the bands
Of sin
Within
From th' sinners hands.
My bitter sacrifice brings sweet salvation.
Thus I give life to others, yet I die;
I heal their wounds,
And break their bands;
Yet anguish mine own soul confounds
More then these nails do pierce mine hands
My God! why dost thou me forsake? Oh! why?
They rend my garments, cast lots for my coat,
Whilst I hang here;
Shame doth
Me clothe,
Else nak'd I were
Yonder's thy
Josephs
coat, Lord! dost not knowit?
The seamless vesture of thy sinless child,
How bloody isit?
My God! My God!
Yet not so bloody as thy Christ
Is all within by thy sharp rod.
O be not fierce to me, for I am mild.
See, how I am nailed to this most bitter tree!
How I am accurst!
How gall
Is all
My drink in thirst!
And wilt thou so, my God, my God! leave me?
See, how men turn my Glory into shame.
Mocking my faith
And confidence;
Some say he for
Elias
pray'th:
But, Lord, thou knowest my mind and sense.
They flout, they fleet, whilst I call on thy name.
Yet save me, for I am thine: thine handmaids son
Made of this woman:
Thy shade
This maid,
When known by no man,
Impow'rd to bring forth me, thine holy one.
Father! I am the only fatherless on earth:
All others have
Fathers, or had:
O pity, pity, Lord! and save
Thy Fatherless, support the sad.
Oh! leave me not in death, who gavest me birth.
My God! my God! why dost thou me forsake?
Who never thee
Forsook,
Or took
One sin to me,
Except the sins that thou didst bid me take.
They fill the spunge with vinegar, but thou
My soul dost fill
With sharper grief.
Oh! sinner, here's a bitter pill,
Yet for thy sickness sweet relief.
My God! my God! O do not leave me now!
How darkness veils the land! yet clouds do hover
Darker by far:
Thy wrath
Lord, hath
Eclyps'd thy star,
Whilst from thy darling thou thy face dost cover.
How both Suns suffer while thy
Son
lies under
Thy fierce displeasure!
Th' Sun bears a part
But mine eclypse it cannot measure.
Lord thy sore frowns do tear my heart
More then the Temples veil, that's rent asunder.
Now come thy breaches and thy darkness on,
O Jewish Land!
For thou
Hast now
Both rid thine hand
Of thy bright light and of thy Corner-stone.
Father, the earth's all ague, and I more:
Even rocks are rent,
My soul's more torn:
Yet flinty Jews donit once relent.
My God: leave not mine hope forlone.
I h've done.
Lord, open th' everlasting Door.
Father, into thine hands I give my Spirit,
And utmost breath;
Whilest I
Thus die;
And, with me, death:
That my dear seed henceforth may life inherit.
Then Christ, in sweet submission,
bows his head
To all God's pleasure:
I think on it still:
Lord make the bowing heart my treasure
An heart to bow to all thy will;
That dying I may say,
all's finished.
This done, my Savior quickly shows his force
Graves open fly;
They shake
And quake
That see him die:
The rude Centurion's struck with strange remorse.
Thus Christ lets loose his pris'ners, captivates
His scornful foes;
They knock their breast,
Confessing whom they did oppose
To be God's SON, now not in jest.
Thus
Samson's
death brake the Phylistians pates.
Then with a spear his side a Soldier strikes;
Cleaving the Rock
That may
Each day
Water that Flock,
Whose Shepherd is now past all push of pikes.
This is the fountain op'ned for thy sin,
Jerusalem!
Thy
filth,
thy
guilt;
Here is for each a proper stream,
Water
and
Blood:
Let none be spilled:
O quench thy guilt, and cleanse thy filth herein.
Israel
thy Paschal Lamb, thy Christ is dead,
That Lamb from Heaven:
Have care,
Prepare,
Purge out thy Leaven:
Mingle no more thy malice with thy bread.
Or if the Jewish lump would not leave their leaven
Make me leave mine:
I have in me
(Lord, nail it to this Cross of thine)
An evil heart of enmity.
Lord kill this enmity 'twixt Earth and Heaven.
Be thou my fort, and hiding-place, my soul
Would lodge in thee:
My Lord
Affoard
One cleft for me.
Thy walls are shatt'red, yet thou art timber-whole.
Satan and sin I h've seen, ith' Tragic story,
Shoot through and through
Thy blessed heart;
Yet not one bone was broken, though
Mount
Sinai
's Cannons plaid their part.
In this rock hide me, till I h've seen thy Glory.
Shall not Christ Crucified far dearer be
To me then Pelf,
Then name
Or fame
Or life itself?
'Twas thus with
Joseph,
why not thus with me?
The Soldiers having broke the others legs,
But not my Lord's;
Joseph,
a man
Rich in the goods this world affoards
But more in faith, most boldly ran
To
Pilate,
and Christ's lifeless body begs.
Then in clean linen wraps that skin and bones,
That martir'd treasure:
And why
Canit I
Take as much pleasure
To clothe thy members, Lord, thy naked ones?
Jews, now ou
•
king's come down: Sirs do you see him?
Your Temple lies
Flat by the ground:
Will you believe whenit doth arise?
Catching your Christ at his rebound?
Why if his own would not have him, Lord! give me him.
Christ having now given death his deadly wound,
Follows him home:
Invades
Deaths shades,
Enters a tomb,
To see what spoils may in a grave be found.
Great Conqueror, who hast killed death ith' duel
After this art
Lodg'd in a stone?
Rather take up in my poor heart
How hard soever, or how none.
Oh! that I were thy Cabinet, dear jewel?
But
Josephs
rock was pure, that grave was new:
First in a womb,
Which none
Had known;
Then in a tomb
Where none had lain, my Lord log'd, this doth show,
I must be
clean
and
new
first. Yet thy passion
And stream of blood,
What did it mean,
That Purple yet a Christ all flood?
Wasit not the making of me clean?
Doth not thy rising mean my renovation?
Then make and take for such this heart of mine
And dwell in it:
This breast
Is best
That I can get,
Had I a better, Lord, it should be thine.
Surely the King of terror I could brave,
If my Lord would
This Sepulcher,
This heart, as his own quarters hold;
I would nor goal nor goaler fear.
Oh how my Savior's Corps perfume the grave!
Lord, make this heart of mine a living one
Through thy deaths merit
Convey
I pray
To me thy spirit,
Who thy dead flesh didst Coffin in dead stone.
With th' Arimathean Counselor combined
A learned Rabbi
To show Christ kindness;
An
Israelitish
Doctor: may be
Some wiser man will blame my blindness,
And Antichrist in
Law
and
Learning
find.
But may my soul with blessed
Joseph
dwell
And
Nicodem:
Yet, down
With th' Gown,
Cry some of them
Who scarce I doubt from these can bear the Bell.
A spicie mixture, 'bout an hundred pounds,
Who came by night
To Jesus brings
T' embalm his Lord, that gave him light,
With Aromatick precious things:
Y
••
not one half so precious as those wounds.
Now Jesus (
Jonah
-like) Heavens sealed one,
Enters the deep:
But shall
The Whale,
The grave, him keep?
See, Soldiers watch, and
Pilate
seals the stone.
As
Daniel
's sealed when cast into the Den,
Malitious Jews
Require a seal,
And watch, which
Pilate
would not refuse,
Left some the Coffin'd Corps should steal.
They'll keep the Sun from rising; Crafty men!
Lo! in a Garden stood the sealed Tomb.
Adam
the first
Hav'ng been
For sin
Ith' Garden cursed
To th' Grave. My Savior thus fullfills the doom.
Then dawns that blessed light that ever since
Makes one day shine
More then six other;
For should six week-day lights combine,
One Lord's-Day brightness would then smother
With thee,
Thy Day
Lord
riseth
and proves Prince
That Day is now obscured wherein Christ slept;
That Day's made bright
In which
That rich
And orient light
Quit that blind prison where he had been kept.
Surely that day's the whole weeks
Jubilee
(That day's the best
Which my dear Lord
By ceasing from his labor blest,
Labor that cost more then a word)
Wherein redemption set the ransomed
free.
This first day finds more then the seventh day lost
Can supe
•
add
And raise
More praise
Then th' other had:
So th' old Commandment is fulfill'd, not crossed:
That bids me celebrate what day of seven
God hath most blest;
And HIS, doth call:
Such WAS the Jewish, IS our rest.
We sour'd God's first works by our fall,
Till Christ's last Passover purged out the leaven
Was not Christ's Burial part of 's Humiliation?
His day of rest
From that
Dark state
Shallit not be blest?
Shall I less prize a new then old Creation?
Redemption is a making old things new.
Rouze Christians then:
Though dead before,
Let
Lord's-Days
find you living men;
That with your Christ can rise and soar.
And for the Christian, quit thy Sabbath, Jew.
The first in sin runs first to th' Sepulcher
Poor woman kind:
But Christ
Is mist:
Oh! they cannot find
Their Lord; though two of his Life guard appear,
The two bright pointers of that blessed Star
His countenance,
Who h'd rolled the stone,
Strikes keepers hearts, at his first advance,
As dead as what he sat upon.
Thieves were, now Angels Christ's attendants are.
Say th' women who shall roll the stone away?
'Twas done before.
Thus may,
I pray,
I find my score
Quit to mine hand, when I cry who shall pay?
Surely my surety did my debt discharge:
Lord, else why should
Thine Angel be
Sent down t' unlock that prison-hold
Wherein my Savior lay for me?
My surety's free, why may n
•
t I walk at large?
They would with Oyntments, Odours, precious things
Perfume his Prison:
But th' dead
Was fled;
Their
Sun
was
risen
With sweeter balm with
healing in his wings.
Mary
the sinner,
Mary Magdalene
Marcheth ith' van
To th' Sepulcher,
But th' stone's removed, and so's the man:
She missing her dear Savior there,
To
John
and
Peter
runs, and comes agen.
These run a race, the wager's precious truth.
But
John
outran:
Alas
He was
The younger man.
Happy the man runs after Christ in youth.
Peter,
successor to his Masters Cross,
Whilest
John
keeps out
Enters Christ's Tomb;
Looks for his Christ but finds a clout,
And winding-sheet in Savior's Room:
But Christ is gone. O blessed, gainful loss!
Mary
th' old weeper stands without and cries;
But stooping down,
Spies here
And there
The Grave clothes thrown,
Which linnens scarce can serve to wipe her eyes,
She is still anxious, turns her round, and lo
There the Gard'ner stood,
As she conceived,
Even he that waters with his blood
Each plant of his. Thus Christ's received
By the true seeker oft whenit thinks not so.
Sir, if thou have borne him hence (and 'twas well guest)
Tell me, saith she:
Mary!
Lo I
Even I am he.
Ah! my dear Lord, that word revives my heart.
Yet touch me not, saith he, I am not ascended:
But go thou rather
And tell abroad
Unto my Brethren, to my Father
And yours I go, mine and your God.
So richly is the poorest Saint befriended!
How studious is my Lord that they should know,
And so partake
Of this
His Bliss
That did forsake
Him in his captive state and sufferings so.
Surely these men that fled then from their colors,
Might have expected
Another kind
Of message should have been directed
From their now rising Lord: but find
Their sins in his Grave buri'd with his dolours.
No word of th' old uncomfortable story.
But say I am risen:
Let tears
And fears
Take up my prison.
Run tell my Brethren thou hast seen my Glory:
Also the Angel cries, be not afraid:
Jesus you would have:
I know it well:
But think you
David
in a cave,
Or
David's
Son must ever dwell?
Come see the place where your dear Lord was laid.
Women, your Lord's not here; your Lord is risen
Have you forgot
Your Lord's
Own words?
Or have you not?
Seek you the Prince of life in this dead prison?
Run, tell the rest and
Peter,
Christ is gone
Tow'rds
Galilee
As he did say.
With joy and fear away they flee
All dapled like the time of day
And as they march, behold! they see the SON.
O may my Lord thus evermore appear,
And shine upon
Poor me,
When he
Saith, get thee gone,
And unto others, of me, tidings bear.
Oh blessed meeting! Courtship, and devotion!
All Hail! saith he:
They bow tohis feet;
Light that forbids us courteous be
Was then so dark Christ could not seeit.
That master taught his scholars no such notion.
Men, 'tis observed the rising sun adore;
Christ's risen now:
And bright
Day light
Beams from his brow;
Shall not all worship the Son of God much more?
The watch mean while bring news of all that's done.
To th' Priests within,
Even that Christ's risen;
Who seeing him past reach, begin
To plot how they this truth m' imprison.
Christ's second Grave-stone is a silver one.
What potent pranks can mighty Mammon show!
Powerful pelf
In'ts facts
Out acts
Even power itself:
Money can make truth falsehood, falsehood true.
Money betrai'd my Lord to all these wrongs:
Now they are devising
To keep on foot
Something to cloud this bright Suns-rising;
And 'tis large money that must doit.
This silver key must turn the soldiers tongues.
Soldiers are taught a sorry tale to tell;
Which should methinks
Nere slip
Their lip;
But that which chinks
So sweetly, can make all sound pretty well.
Say,
Whilst we keepers slept at th' Sepulcher,
's Disciples came
And stole him thence;
Which if the governor shall blame
We'll mediate and make your defense.
Now hear O Heavens! and O Earth! give ear.
Can'st thus, O
Isr'ell,
fool away thy Glory?
Is such a wise
Fable
Able
To blind thine eyes?
Is this th' authentic, yet received story?
Why, soldiers, if you slept at th' Sepulcher
Whilst that vast stone
Was rolling back
(Which may a Jew believe, or none)
And some by stealth the corps did take;
I marvel you could see what men they were.
Or if you saw the thieves, why did you not
Stop or pursue?
So short
Report
Want so much give?
See how the last words have the first forgot.
But oh fond Priests and Elders whence is it
That you can stroke
These soldiers pates?
Sure such neglect would you provoke
Of all. Yet you're their advocates.
Alas! how fury doth befool their wits!
Mean while Disciples were so far from thieving
That, when this news
They btought
That sawit,
Yet, they refuse
To takeit for truth, being so far from believing.
As two of them were to
Emmaus
going
Their busy tongue
Be'ng well employ'd,
My dearest Lord stands them among;
No sooner talkit of, then enjoyed.
Happy the Servants whom he finds so doing.
What is your talk that makes your walk so sad?
Saith
Cleopas
Dost thou
Not know
These things? Alas!
A mighty Man and Prophet we have had;
Mighty in word and deed with God and Men:
Jesus was he
Of
Nazareth
We'd hoped might our Redeemer be:
But him, our Rulers put to death
This be'ng the third day since. And yet agen
We know not what to think on it, hurried
'Twixt hope and fear;
For some,
That come
From th' Sepulcher,
Assure us that he's risen from the Dead.
But oh this evil heart of unbelief!
This want of faith
That can provoke
The gentle Lamb of God to wrath,
Setting in every wheel a spoke,
Clouding the rising Sun with gloomy grief!
O fools, and slow of heart replies my Lord
Slow to believe me!
But oh
Not so
Not slow to grieve me,
Ought not your Christ fulfill the written word?
But Christ cannot always hold his chiding story:
Sugars his checks
With sweet instructions;
Moses
his veil in pieces breaks;
Proves by prophetic fair deductions,
Through Seas of sufferings Christ must land in Glory.
My Lord then makes as he would further go:
But they begin
so pray
Him stay,
And he turns in:
Happy, who love their close reprovers so.
This bread of life thus broken when he had,
He breaks more bread
And makes them eat:
Their Lord's their Sheepheard, they are well fed,
Body and Soul, with blessed meat.
My soul, seek Christ first; and those things he will add.
Just now my Lord makes them see who he is,
Then slips away.
And, oh!
'Twas so
With me last day,
One moment op'ned and sealed up like bliss.
When Christ was gone, say they we might have guest
What light 'twas brought
So bright a day
To darkest Scriptures: might have thought
The
risen Sun
was in our way
Finding our hearts so
burn
within our breast.
Then they return back to
Jerusalem
Brimfull of joy
To feast
The rest;
But they are coy
Till Christ Himself stands in the midst of them.
And 'tis so still. Whoever's sent about
To tell thy story,
Hardness of hearts
And unbelief blinds all thy glory:
Lord, who believes? Lord, who converts?
Till thy dear presence puts all out of doubt.
Their doors be'ng shut, and hearts much more, that even
My Lord to put
All out
Of doubt;
(None else can doit)
This news imparts in person to th' eleven.
Yet oh how hard a thing is this believing?
A sprite appears
As they suppose;
The same that in their storms of fears
Walkit on the Seas when winds arose.
Phant'sies fools-bolt, howit hinders truths receiving.
Jesus salutes them with a peace be to you
Once and agen:
'It is I;
Sirs, why
Distrust you then?
Why do you let such thoughts arise, why do you?
Down doubtings; I am got up: And ready have
(Sirs, come and see
And feel, I pray)
A Tomb, dead unbelief, for thee
Dig'd in my side but toother day,
And for your doubtings, in each hand a grave.
If these suffice not, handle, feel my feet
There are two more.
Doubt not,
I have got
All as before:
Rather then miss their faith their sense he will meet.
Then for the further feeding of their faith
He calls for food;
They give him fish,
And Honey-Comb: but, oh! his blood
And body is a sweeter dish.
Then, breathing, take the Holy Ghost, he saith.
Now doth the frost-nipped Tree of life recover:
Puts forth again:
New springs,
And brings
Fruits that remain
Spirit and Life, so prove's Deaths Winter's over
Thomas
mean while be'ng absent from the rest
Freezing from th' fire,
(Like them that miss.
Th' assemblies Christ is wont t' inspire
With sweet assurance, joy and bliss)
Canit feed his faith with hear-say of a feast
He must first hold a Coroners inquest:
Must see Christ's ayles,
And must
First thrust
Ith' print of oth' nails
His fingers; e're this faith enter his breast.
His faith must go on stilts or not at all:
See with the eye,
Feel with the hand,
His faith must in his fingers lie,
His faith must in his feeling stand,
At th' bound from sorry sense he will catch the ball.
Th' week after he and they be'ng all together
With blessed greeting
(Increase
Of peace)
Christ Crowns their meeting.
Thomas,
saith he, come reach thy finger hither.
As men are wont who've Children to be taught
My Lord was fain,
(Though every letter
In's hands and feet were printed plain)
With's finger teach him spell the better,
The Child to faith by fealing must be brought.
My Lord! and my God! (how this sight relieves me!)
Poor
Thomas
cries.
Christ saith,
Thy faith
May thank thine eyes:
Blessed is he who sees not, yet believes me.
Disciples after this, a fishing go:
But nothing's caught,
Throughout the night;
Till Jesus comes, and brings a draught:
Lord show me so which side's the right,
When to catch souls thy Gospel net I throw.
Christ looked into their cup-board just before▪
Children, have ye
Got meat
To eat?
Else come to me:
I have food and firing for you on the shore.
Hence sinful cares; infest my soul no longer,
Base diffidence:
Doubtings retreat:
Soul, mind thy Savior's providence:
Do thine own work, and he will find meat.
Or give thee some things better if thou hunger.
Dinner be'ng done, Christ speaks of working then:
And so should we:
Our whet,
Not let
Our food should be.
Shepherds Christ feeds, to feed his sheep agen.
Shepherds who love to eat but not to feed
Are what they are not,
Not what they are;
(A Paradox, and Gordian knot,
Which Christ will cut, and will not spare)
Shepherds in name but rav'ning wolves indeed.
Peter,
dost love me more then these? I will prove thee.
Then feed and keep
My flock;
My st
•
ck
Of Lambs and Sheep.
All knowing Lord, saith he, thou knowest I love thee.
Peter,
when thou wast young, then thou wast free
To come and go
As thou'dst a mind,
Girding thyself: 't shall not be so
When thou art old, others shall bind,
And gird, and carry thee. Man! follow me.
Peter
replies, and what must this man do?
What's that to thee?
Follow
Me thou.
How busy we
Are to mind others works, our own not so.
In an appointed mount in
Galilee,
Christ meets th' eleven:
Chargeth them there,
By all his power in Earth and Heaven,
To Preach the Gospel everywhere;
Baptizing in the name of One and Three.
And in so doing, saith, I am with you still.
He shows Hells loss:
Deaths gate,
Sins state
Spoil'd by his Cross.
Now is our
Sampson
got on
Gaza's
hill.
To prove my new bought right to every Nation,
New tongues I give
Unto you: Though
You drink what's deadly, you shall live:
Serpents and sicknesses shall know
And Devils too, that I have wrought Salvation.
A
•
many years as
Israel
just had been,
Christ▪ days doth spend
'Twixt the
Red Sea
Of's bloody end,
And Heav'nly
Canaan:
forty days he's seen.
Meanwhile Christ Summons others from the dead
To evidence
His Resurrection:
From types, from texts, from faith, from sense,
Of proofs how full, how fair collection.
Shew'ng Christ is Risen as the Churches head.
Now, O devourer! where's thy victory?
Out of the grave
That old
Strong hold
And cating cave
Comes meat and sweetness; which who tastes cannot die:
Even Christ comes thence. And now in
Olivet
Where he laid down
In part of pay
For th' purchase of his new bought crown,
His bloody sweat: even there this day
To see's Inthronization Saints are me
•
:
Wilt thou restore the kingdom, Lord, they cry,
To
Israel
yet?
For you
To know
Times is not fit:
I will send my spirit! thats my Lord's reply.
O what an eager foolish thing is man!
Busie to know
What least concern him!
But to take forth, alas! how slow
The lessons that my God would learn him.
A sieve that lets go th' flow'r but holds the bran.
Melchizedek
mean time, our Priest forever,
With lift up hands
On his
All bliss
And grace commands;
Whom clouds receiving from their sight do sever.
But not from th' eye of faith, which fixedly
Pursues their king;
Till Angels do
Tidings of 's second coming, bring,
In such sort as they'd seen him go.
Chear up, my drooping heart, thine head's on high.
Yet not so high, but that his heart's as low
As still to mind
Poor thee
Till he
Hath made thee find
What for thy gain he sometime did forego.
Now'
•
the forerunner ent'red in for thee:
Thy Lord's ascended;
Up and away:
When Christ first rose; this flight he 'ntended:
And art thou quickened here to stay?
May all my life but one Ascension be.
But I am all fits and starts, and cannot get
Hold of mine own:
But clouds
Prove shrouds:
And all seems gone:
Sometimes I
rise
with Christ, but cannot
fit.
Yet am I fixed, whilst Savior sits in Heaven;
There are no hills
And dales on high:
My Swampes my Savior's merit fills,
That all might in a level lie,
Making my state, though not my comfort even.
Why art thou then, my soul, disquieted?
Christ dwelt in dust
As thou
Dost now;
Shall I not trust
Him, that drank of my brook, to lift mine head?
Is this the Butler that bore
Pharaohs
cup?
Though he forgot
Joseph
ith' Prison,
When raised himself, thy Lord will not
Reckon that he's completely risen,
Till all his foes are down and friends got up.
Down then, thou evil heart of unbelief!
Thou art a foe,
To me
I see,
To him I know:
A goal would fit thee well, for thou art a thief.
Thou pick'st my comforts and thou steal'st his praise,
His and my loss
We lay to thee:
Betwixt two thieves Christ left one Cross
Void, that there hanged thou mightest be.
Th' arch-thief of all that rob on God's highwayes.
Now as Mount
Olivet
for
Zion
Mount
Thou didst forgo
Teach me
Like thee,
Sweet Savior, so
Heavens joys before earths fatness to account.
I determined not to know anything save Jesus Christ, and him Crucified,
1 Cor. 2.2.
SPIRIT.
MY Verse proceeds to him that by proceeding
Subsisteth in the Deity;
But cannot 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'there day I saw a Lamb take wing
And fly to Heaven from an hill:
I watched to see if anything
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'there day
The Clouds did take: unkind? or kind?
For whilst 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.
It is only Sun-shine that can show the Sun,
Alas! my Lord, my spirits flesh;
Dark-Lanthorn light is next to none:
My Frost-nipped blooms what Sun-beams can refresh?
Since then my carnal mind can never show
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 God's Spirit neither is
Father nor Son; yet doth inherit
With both an equal yet distinguished 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 eternal Spirit Christ the word
Offers himself to God and dies;
Yet by this Spirit doth afford
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 everywhere,
Fathoms all hearts, sounds every deep:
Yet how few Temples, Lord! are there
Wherein this holy Ghost doth house or keep?
This active Spirit moves in every 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 every 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 Lord's 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 bribed:
But as his warrant showed 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 be'ng conquered by a Dove,
I think on it still howit sprangling lay
Crying for quarter to that bird of love.
I marked his bill but saw no Olive branch:
•
eat I implor'd, but he denied;
What blood he drew, refused 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 wilt 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 am sent to comfort by convincing thee.
Though I am 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
Bethlehem
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 months 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 be!
Bondage is like to be my state,
If to myself thou leave me free.
He's only free whom thou dost captivate.
Where the Lord's 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 extremely poor
I skilled not how to make my moans:
But this Dove met me at God's door.
Supply'ng my want of words with store of groans.
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 am undone:
This streaming Spirit straight suppli'd me
Till all those scorching flames were quenched 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 raised a tumour
And then the Spirit's fain to take
His Lancet and let out the humor:
But, oh! mine heart how did it burn, and ache?
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 balm refresh,
Those tears that fell from bleeding Savior's eyes.
In native gore when I polluted lay,
Hav'ng none to wash, to salt, to swath me;
His counsels were my salt that day;
His laws my swaddling 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
Heavens
Canaan
from earths wilderness
But being there, could nothing spy
Till with his eye salve he mine eyes did dress.
Over against Heavens 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.
Arithmetic and th'art of measuring
I h'd studied, but bungled still;
The measure of a span to bring
O
•
number of my days 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 grieved that I'd so direspected
Both gift and giver, did endeavor
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, showed him the soil
It gathered whilst neglected so:
Do not despair said he for I am oil.
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 near been mortified.
This Spirit in mine heart doth sheed abroad
God's 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 always profitable 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,
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Say some, and thou shalt perfect be:
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,
Enlightenit; such a dungeon sin made man.
Mans spirit is the Candle of the Lord;
Which who would see by, first should light
At God's own fire, even God's own word:
God's 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 ink and paper prays us to be friends?
Nor Son nor Spirit had I understood
Be'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 human nature clad, doth raise
My conscience out of guilts dark grave
The Spirit, clothed in human 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 framed
That Book of Books, my Bible dear:
A thing that's all things can be named:
Food, physic, treasures, pleasures, all are here.
A glass that shows to every man his face;
A staff that helps the lame to walk:
A spur that makes him mend his pace:
A light that shows 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 every leaf, whose every line
Out shines the milky way as far
As if Heavens light should all combine
To darken and obscure one painted star.
A Book that told my story ere I was:
A Book that tells me what shall be
When I am no more: what doom shall pass
On States, on Churches, Persons, and on me.
This Book's truths standard, nay, 'tis truth itself;
So well's the Spirit here pourtrai'd:
This Book doth sanctify 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 Canonical,
As to man's reason is commensur'd:
God's light, by man's, must stand or fall:
And so the Sun by th' Sextons Clock is censured.
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 cannot 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 color
Yet all make up man's 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
Showing most art, where they seem most to vary.
As when this one sweet Spirit is called seven,
Perfection's meant in unity:
A Spirit filling Earth and Heaven
That operates in all, but diversely.
Some reckon seven Suns to every week,
So many Moons to every year,
As she turns th' whole face or half cheek
And doth by turns first sit and then appear.
This Spirit makes in
Sampson
strength excel
And in a
Moses
government,
And wisdom in a
Daniel,
And all much more in Christ, whereit dwelt unpent.
This Spirit doth transcribe the Gospel-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 sighs and groans 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 men's 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, man's 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! beit to thine own perplexing
Be thou as melted wax in me,
That thou shouldst set this Dove avexing
That sweetly seals redemption unto thee.
Give, stubborn heart, relent, since for thy sake
The Lamb of God not only blood,
But even God's 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 music to a griever:
Such is God's Dove, whose groans thy duty tell.
Shew not thyself vexatious to a Dove,
That cannot grieve thee without grieving:
Even 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 says this is the way,
Have salt in thee: remember, man,
Lots
wife.
Check not this Spirits checks, but let them be
Taken for kindness, as they are:
His smitings reckon oil 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 holiness, seek peace, make after Union:
Let Medication stir this fire:
Prayer 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, every 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.
FAITH.
FRom thee, dear Dove,
Yet still in thine embraces,
To Faith, Hope, Love
That Trinity of graces
Now let me pass, and succor so my Verses
That I may express what my muse rehearses.
Faith, I will begin
With thee; for thou wast th' first,
When bloody sin
Had made me all accurst,
That showed th' avenger posting after me,
And bad me to some refuge-City flee.
Some men would make
Faith and Repentance strive
Who should place take;
But surely Faith's the hive
In which that busy Be, repentance, makes
Tears drop like honey from man's heart like wax.
For who can grieve
For that which they believe not?
Who can believe
Mans sinful state, and grieve not?
I did believe the law, and so relented,
I did believe the Gospel, and repented.
I did believe
That God, made all things good;
And then did grieve
That I had brought a flood
A flood of sins, and so of miseries
On all: this brought a deluge on mine eyes.
I did believe
That God took flesh, lost blood
So to relieve
Me, and to drown sins flood:
Then girt like
Peter did
begin to swim
In a repentant Sea of tears to him.
Repentance lowers,
Yet (like sad rainy days)
Bring fruits and flow'rs
And floods to wash our ways,
Its Clouds be'ng-filled with what bright faith exhales.
But's dry as desperation, when faith fails.
Yet have I heard
That some repented not
That afterward
They might believe. This knot
Is soon untied: First Faith lends tears and grief
Unto repentance, then an handkerchief.
Thus Faith precedes
Repentance yet comes after;
Follows, yet leads;
As Mother and as Daughter:
As the bright Sun the brackish Sea doth round
Encompassing Repentance, Faith is found.
Faith, I would tell
Thy story if I could,
Where thou dost dwell
Or what thou art, behold:
But thou art Faith which sense can no more reach
Then death Deity can praise, or preach.
I did ask at
Heavens gate for thee, dear grace,
But was told that
There vision held thy place:
Then some infernal fiends said they could show thee
But took thee for no grace, for they did rue thee.
I looked about
On earth to find thee there,
For there no doubt
Thou dwelst if anywhere:
And yet again th' unerring Scripture saith
When Christ shall come, shall he on earth find Faith?
Surely not much:
When he shall that day bring
Unto the touch
Each one that wears a ring
All would not prove Gold that glisters, and is specious,
Nor feigned Faith be then approved as precious.
Oh! that I knew
Thee, precious Faith; and could
Thy real hue
Thy luster but unfold
I should soon draw all eyes from him that hath
Gold rings, to gaze on th' poor when rich in Faith.
Alas! most take
Thee for some pebble, they
Do nothing make
To believe any way
Only those few that have thee, jealous are
Their Faith is not the right, the right's so rare.
Thou 'rt a rich stock,
A Diadem brought forth
Only by th' rock
Of ages, of such worth
That who hath thee, although he hath no more
May well esteem the golden Indies poor.
By thee the just
May live, when wants surround:
And so he must
When other things abound.
Faith makes the conscience good and that well dressed
Is a continual food, a constant feast.
Of the household
Of Faith I am sure I have read;
And dare be bold
They want no household-bread:
Faith daily sets on the believers board
The Heav'nly bread of th' everliving word.
Others look by
Their trades to be maintained:
Why should not I
To be by faith sustained?
Thou art the calling: man but misapplies,
To other trades, the name of mysteries.
The mystery
Thou art, yet th'
Oedipu
•
That dost untie
All doubts and knots for us.
Nothing is hard to thee: where thou canst not
Unriddle, thou'st a sword to cut the knot.
How blind were man
But for thy piercing eye?
Who nothing can,
No, not himself, descry.
Thy clue guides through both Laborinth-like ways
Of mine own heart and through the Scriptures maze.
I should be set
And pos'd at first and last
Ith' Alphabet
But that, dear Faith, thou hast
Taught me to know my letters. Who but thou
Could make me th'
Alpha
and
Omega
know!
Or to know him
Aright? alas! my sight
Were dark and dim
But for thine eyes, thy light
Who seest him that is invisible.
What flesh and blood perceives not thou see'st well.
Prayer's a blind beggar,
If it do want but thee:
It may be eager,
But right it cannot be.
Hope were an hopeless thing but that thou dost
Allow it spend upon thy proper cost.
Faith makes pray'r know
Where t' have its Amunition,
And teacheth how
To level each petition.
Of clam'rous sin, quick prayer, by Faith, gains cope,
And brings salvations tidings back to hope.
In pilgrimage,
I went to Calvery
That bitter stage
Where my dear Lord did die;
Where missing him, I cried out where is he?
Faith whisper'd to me, go along with me.
Faith brought me to
A door, but it was locked:
Faith bad me go
And knock, and so I knocked:
Then th' door flew open and a Lamb did stand
Cry'ng take both fleece and flesh. But I h'd no hand.
But as my moan
I made with tears and grief,
Faith lent me one
So I took the relief:
Which having got
I
found that this believing
Both gives me Christ, and is of Christ's own giving.
But as I thought
To h've carri'd home this gift,
A Cross was brought
Which I was bad to lift
Or leave the rest: I tried but could not bear it:
Said Faith, I will lend thee shoulders, do not fear it.
With much ado
I got this blessed pack,
Christ and's Cross too
By Faith upon my back:
But could nor go nor stand, till Faith did meet
Me just a sinking with a pair of feet.
Faith hav'ng new vampt
My soul, I then could walk.
Reason's sin-crampt;
And tis but idle talk
To speak of marching in its strength and might
Till Faith lends reason legs and sets it right.
We stand by Faith
Saith
Paul,
we stand by reason.
Whoever saith
I doubt me, doth speak treason
They show their reason best that daily beg
Lord give us Faith, reason's a wooden leg.
Faith makes me see
What reason's asking still,
How can it be?
Let him take heed that will
Believe no more then he finds reason for
Lest he find reason to believe no more.
When Faith as Queen
Makes reason wait upon her,
Reason's then seen
Look like a maid of honor:
But let that saucy Courtier 'ware his head
That crowds the Queen into the truckle-bed.
In a few miles
March, betwixt this and Heaven
I found some stiles
Not few'r then six or seven
That reason stumbling at; Faith, help me over,
Said I
••
ll poor Lame reason shall recover.
No sooner said
I so but Faith did lift,
Even as I prayed,
Me over with my gift:
Which done I fell aboard that sacred flesh
That so I might my fainting soul refresh.
Be'ng cold and thin
The fleece I had received
I went to spin
And weave, but as I weav'd
An enemy did cast a fiery dart,
Which but for th' shield of Faith had killed my heart.
Where hadst that fleece
Said Satan, thievish sinner,
Of righteousness
That thou art become a spinner?
I answered, false accuser, not by thieving,
Had I my Righteousness but by believing.
Believing? what
Dost thou, poor foolish wretch
Tell me of that?
Said Satan, go and fetch
God's Law-Book, and thy Conscience Book and say
If thou canst stand as righteous any way.
Malicious foe,
Said I, cease troubling me,
Or else lets go
To suit ith' Chancery.
God's Common-Law admits of mine appeals
To th' Law of Faith that Righteousness reveals.
But equity
Requires thy debts be paid;
Said he; said I,
And satisfaction's made
By one that left his Cross, when he was slain,
That I therewith might thee, foul serpent! brain.
Then Satan flew,
Quitting the field. Anon
A numerous crew,
A WORLD it was, came on.
Thronging so thick and threefold in upon me,
That, had nor Faith pressed in, they had undone me.
Earth showed her strength,
Her treasures, pleasures, pride:
Giddy at length
Poor I began to slide,
Hold, man! said Faith, thou hast a staff by thee
Christ's Cross can help thee stand, & force these flee.
But in this broil
Ere I the Cross could use,
I had a foil,
And got at inward bruise,
Conscience spat blood, pain pierced and wrung my side,
Till Faith some better blood like balm applied.
Faith also bad
A vein should op'ned be,
Urging I had
Much putrid blood in me:
Content, said I, for I had heard oth' art
Of saving Faith to purify the heart.
But lest I should
In bleeding faint, Faith took
Some Cordials rolled
In Bible leaves, a Book
Whose every leaf, said Faith, rich drugs contains
As I compound them, sov'reign for heart-pains
Alas! said I,
Many those drugs have got,
But do decry,
Finding they profit not;
But strait remembered what the Scripture saith
Th' word did not profit be'ng unmix'd with Faith.
O pow'rfull Faith!
Whose every smallest grain,
If sound, who hath
May say, and not in vain,
Mountains of guilt that here so long have stood
Get hence into the Sea of Savior's blood.
This skillful grace
Did first Phlebotomize,
Then wash the place.
And after wipe mine eyes.
Dear Faith! said I, I see that thou dost mean
Not only for to make me whole but clean.
As soon as I
Was cured of this my pain,
Impetuously
The world comes on again.
I took Faith's Cross, and found what Scripture saith
Our victory over the world's our Faith.
Vain world be gone
Said I, vex me no more,
Vexation
And vanity's thy store
This
Jacob's
ladder helps me to discrye
A surer sweeter world beyond the skye.
By this dear Cross
My dearest Lord did climb:
I will count thee loss
That I may follow him.
His and my Kingdom's not ith' worlds enjoyment
If 'twere who knows where it would be next moment?
World thou must be
Set one day all on fire,
Witchchrafts in thee,
And blood deserve this hire.
Then shall my dust see by thy bright fire-light
To rise that morning that shall nere have night.
We do but jest,
Great
Alexanders
story
Is best expressed
When we say this worlds glory
Vanquish'd that seeming victor; sure I am
Nothing but Faith this world ere overcame.
When I begin
To fight, and want supplies;
Faith summons in
Heavens Auxiliaries;
And stores with precious promises that are
The very sinews of that holy war.
And more then this
Brings in a rare commander
Jesus it is,
Not
Mars,
or
Alexander:
But he that taught all fingers fight, can quell
All foes, even Christ ith' heart, by faith, doth dwell.
Jerusalem
Above, that City is
Where
David's
stem
Raigns and remains in bliss
Yet 'tis his royal pleasure here in us
To dwell by Faith as in his Country-house.
Faith makes man's heart
That dark, low, ruined thing,
By its rare art,
A palace for a King;
High'r then proud
Babels
tow'r by many a story,
By faith Christ dwells in us the hope of Glory.
Thus Faith doth raise
Out of vile dust a Court,
Imputing praise,
Honor, and good report.
Hearts,
Rahab
like, when once they entertain
Heavens spies by Faith, a good report do gain.
If thou believe
All things are possible:
Faith can relieve
Even to a miracle:
This Faith can wash an
Ethiopian
clean,
Witness the Eunuch of
Candace
the Queen.
And as Faith makes
Us Courts, so Courtiers too:
God pleasure takes
In us when all we do
Is done in Faith, then reck'ning that he hath
Most glory by us, when most strong in Faith.
And as by this
Our service proves his pleasure;
Even so doth his
Hereby become our treasure:
One day in God's Cour
•
Faith doth far prefer
Before a thousand any other where.
'It is unbelief
Ith' evil, evil heart,
His and my grief,
That makes us ever part:
That Blessed Man whose feet this Faith hath sh
•
d
With,
Noah
and
Enoch
still can walk with God.
By Faith who strives
To walk with God whilst here
Doth live two lives
At once each day oth' year:
And dying
Joseph
like commands his bones
To
Canaan
there to dwell with living ones.
Dear Faith said I
My joy, my crown, my treasure!
Tell me whereby
I may do thee a pleasure.
Thou art that lock in which my strength doth lie,
Thee not to tender were self-cruelty.
If thou wouldst please
Me better, work me more;
Said Faith, 'tis case
Only that makes me poor.
But I do use to bid my workmen eat,
Said I; dear Faith, inform me what's thy meat.
Said Faith I came
Out of the eastern lands,
Old
Abraham
And I have oft shook hands:
My food's an
Hebrew
root that Gardners dress
On Lord's Days mostly called the
root of Jesse.
By hearing I
Came first; and we are fed
Most kindly by
The things whereof we are bred.
Forget not, if you love me, the Church-path:
Line upon Line's the way from Faith to Faith.
The careful foot,
That walks by Scripture-LEAVES,
Shall find th's ROOT,
Which happy who receives;
So nutritive, Antidotive and good
Who feeds on it, needs scarce fear any food.
Make but my bread
Of this root when I Sup
Let th' Dragons head
Be then broke and served up:
Yet Toad-stools, one would think, need be well dressed
Ere they will make a good dish for a feast.
Art I did gain
Sometime, and that by book,
The Temters brain
To wholesomeness to cook.
Only have care as ever thou dost mean
To keep me long in health to lodge me clean.
Good conscience is
An old comrade of mine,
Whom I cant miss:
If thou wouldst make me thine,
And keep me, thou must keep him too; that day
Thou partst with him, look I should pack away.
Self confidence,
My nat'rall enemy,
Must be packed hence.
An hand, a foot, an eye
Who hath of's own, will scorn to be my debtor:
Who parts with these, works, walks and sees the better.
Prove that thou art
A Pilgrim: daily die:
Of death get th' start
And live eternally.
I that in
Abrah'ms
heart dwelt many a day,
To
Abrah'ms
bosom now show thee the way.
Fear always; Yet
Faint never: Eye the cloud
That doth beset
Thee, that triumphant Croud:
Look unto Jesus: watch th' word of command,
Which, when thou hast done all these things, is STAND.
By grace ye are saved, through Faith,
Ephess. 2.8.
HOPE.
DRive on, my muse, till thou 'rt got through:
Let not Hope find thee in a slough:
Let that that drives the Farmers plough,
Drive thine much more.
To th' Hope of
Israel
let me yet
In hope my running rhyme commit,
And humbly say, God prosper it;
Or 'twill be poor.
Hope is a door, the Scripture saith;
And so is Christ, and so is Faith:
Who 're out of these doors are in wrath
And Condemnation.
Faith into Christ doth first advent're:
Christ into Hope allows me enter:
Hope makes my very Soul to center
On God's Salvation.
Hope is Faiths expectation:
Fa
••
h is the
Moses,
Hope's the stone
That Faith in Prayer doth rest upon
Tillit overcome.
Faith doth upon Hopes tip-toe stand
Stretching its neck to look for land
Beyond deaths gulf: and life beyond
The day of doom.
Hope is next door to Heavens gate;
'It is but a step from this to that:
Nay Hope doth Heaven antedate,
And bring down hither.
Hope's th' antidote against despair;
Coffin of fear; and Couch of care;
Cradle of patience: Hope hath fair
Even in foul weather.
Hope is the mourners Handkerchief:
Hope is the Balm of every grief.
Hope doth endorse the beggars brief
Ere it's collected.
In Hope I have, what yet I want:
Hope makes me full, while things are scant:
Hope doth consummate, what I cannot
Yet see effected.
Hope hath an harvest in the Spring:
In Winter doth of Summer sing:
Feeds on the fruits whilst blossoming,
Yet nips no bloom.
Hope brings me home when I am abroad,
As soon as th' first step homeward's trod:
In Hope to thee, my God! my God!
I come, I come.
Hope sends the Ship to Sea, and then
Ere it returns, bringsit home agen:
The port of all Seafaring men
Is this GOOD HOPE.
I am a Sea man too. My Soul,
Though tossed with doubts when weather's foul,
Doth like some Sea-sick vessel roll;
Yet Heaven's its scope.
Hope doth the Soldiers weapon wield:
By Hope the Soldiers Helmet's steeled:
Hope gives him, ere he fights, the field:
Hope holds his station.
I am a Soldier too. My Sword,
Is that oth' Spirit, th' two-edge'd word:
Now for an Helmet give me, Lord,
Th' Hope of Salvation.
Hope sets the poor Apprentice free
First day he's bound. And why not me?
Thou hast Indentures Lord by thee
Wherein I am tied.
Mount
Sinais
Covenants they be
Yet Hope doth, Lord, Enfranchize me
In
Zion
-hill, where all are free
That do reside.
In Hope the School. Boy doth commence
Master of Art, and fair science:
Yea whilst ith' lowest form steps thence
To th' Doctors Chair.
I am a School-Scholar too, My God!
But yesterday I felt thy rod:
Yet still with Hope am girt and shod.
Away, despair.
'Ti
•
Hope
•
hat doth the sower feed;
Who seems to cast away his seed,
But doth preserve in very deed
And mend his store.
I am a Seeds-man too, my Lord!
And but for Hope thou wouldest afford
Thy blessing, when I sow thy word,
I had forbore.
I am a Seeds man; every tear
I sow in Hope, 'twill bring an care
Fit for thy floor in time of year
For thee to gather.
Wereit not for Hope the heart; some say,
Would break; yet Hope led me one day
Weeping along the Milkie way
To thee, O Father!
I am a Seeds man casting bread
On th' waters where it seems lie dead;
Yet Hope assures me 't shall be fed,
And then restored.
Hope doth the pris'ners bolts unlock:
His fetters doth in sunder knock:
Hope drives the Freemans trade and stock.
My dearest Lord!
I am a captive too. Sins chain
Doth hold and hamper, but in vain:
By Hope I am saved, and set again
At liberty.
I am a Tradesman too. Thou art
That God with whom I deal. My heart
Takes Heaven to be the only mart,
Thither trade I;
Exporting groans and broken pray'rs
That scarce can clamber up the stairs.
Importing rich and precious wares,
Even joy and peace.
Joy that exceeds all understanding
Oth' Spirits sealing, Christ's own handing:
Peace that is of God's own commanding
And cannot surcease.
Hope makes the laborer to run
A race as 'twere with each days Sun
Paying his wages ere's work be done,
And mine much more.
I daily dig and delve within
Stubbing at th' roots and stumps of sin
And but for Hope one day to win
I should give ore.
O come that longed for day! come quickly!
This Hope deferred makes my heart sickly.
Grace is a Rose, but sin is prickly
And still adheres.
Amphibion
like the diver tries,
Whet sharp with Hope, t' anatomize
And geld the deeps: his hoped for prize
Forbids his fears.
I am a diver too. Thy word
Doth richer rarities afford:
A greater deep, and better stored
With Pearls and treasure.
Angels desire to dive into
These deeps; and so I daily do:
Whose Pearls are rich and Cordial too;
Health, Wealth, and Pleasure.
'It is Hope that makes the racer fleet,
Bringing the wager to his feet,
Make hast, saith Hope, what? donit you seeit?
You've won, you've won.
I am a racer too. My race
From sin to glory is by grace;
Hope sets Heavens Bliss before my face,
And then I run.
I heard the witty world once say,
The bird ith' bush may fly away:
Take Heaven who will, 'tis present pay
For which we trade.
To Faith and Hope I told this story;
Their havings are but transitory,
Said Faith: said Hope, and I have glory
That cannot fade.
Hast it? said I; Hope, show it me.
What's this, said Hope, thou here dost see?
Said I, an Acorn: No, said he
But 'tis an Oak.
What isit, said Hope, thou see'st fast by?
A grain of Mustard seed, said I.
A plant, said Hope, reaching the sky;
And thou'dst right spoke.
Then I perceived the meaning was
Hope ripens seeds of Grace to Grace:
Makes Grace, when grounded, Mount and pass
To th' highest story.
Hope showed me then a sparkling stone
What's this, said Hope, that I have got on?
I strait replied, 'tis Grace begun.
Said Hope, 'tis glory.
Then learnt I that Grace inchoate,
By lively Hope doth maturate:
And rip'ning, doth anticipate
Heaven here on Earth.
I spake to Hope of a reversion
I had in Heaven since conversion:
Said Hope, why cast you an aspersion
On th' second birth?
Reversion sounds, said Hope, to me
Your state at present dead to be
But I have Heaven in hand, you see.
Whereon I live.
I am Faiths present recompense:
My Grammar knows no Future tense:
The Verbs that make up all my sense
Are Substantive.
Who 're these, said Hope, thou see'st before,
Prostrate and begging at a door.
Said I, they are Heavens Parish Poor:
Said Hope, they are Kings.
Kings? said I. But where are their Crowns?
Their Scepters, Kingdoms, Countries, Towns?
Their Armine Robes, and Purple Gowns,
Those royal things?
I can, said Hope, tell where they be:
Safely they are reserved by me,
Safely reserved from them and thee:
Look here are they.
All's locked. Hope, lend's the key, said I.
Hope fetch a Bible presently:
On which when I h'd but cast mine eye
I found a key.
The right key 'twas oth' door of Hope
Enter, said Faith, thou
••
edst not
•
rope:
I turned the key, and th' door flew ope,
And I went on.
But O the things that there I saw!
Jewels of joys, in foils of awe!
But blab not, Muse. Know'st not the Law?
Peace, and have done.
'It is not allowed thee to display
The brightness of Hopes holy day.
Unutterable things to say;
Muse, do not vent're.
Hope showed me, but I cannot say what.
Only let him that questions that,
But get the key, that then I gat;
And let him enter.
Then let him say, If ever he
The like things unto those, did see:
Or yet can utter what they be
That there he saw.
This only can I say, that there
Crowns, Scepters, all enameld were
With Grace and Peace, with Faith and Fear,
With Love and Awe.
True Hope though pleasant, yet is gracious:
Not light, though lightsome: Not audacious,
Though bold: though joyous, not salacious:
Merry, not vain.
Hope can rejoice, but never rant:
Allwaies feeds high, but revel cannot:
Chast Scripture comforts that provant
Doth Hope sustain.
The word whereon I hope, doth urge
Pureness: the fire wherein I forge
The Anchor of mine Hope, doth purge
My dross, my
•
in.
That Hope makes not ashamed, but sure
The bottom's rock, and shall endure;
That makes me strive, as God is pure,
To purge my sin.
True Hope's a
Jacob's
staff indeed:
True Hope is no
Egyptian
reed:
That springs from mire, or else can feed
On dirt, or mud.
By Hope just men and sanctified
Ith' Ocean safe at Anchor ride
Fearless of wrack by wind or tide
By ebb or flood.
Hope's the top-window of that ark
Where all God's
Noah's
do imbark:
Hope lets in sky-light, else how dark
Were such a season?
But wouldst not be engulf'd, or drowned
When storms and tempests gather round;
Ere thou canst Anchor, try the ground:
Hope must have reason.
Hopes Anchorhold cannot be good
Where th' bottom's all or only mud.
Shall th'Sinner in his Native-blood
To Hope pretend?
Or th' Hypocrite strengthen his mast,
(Who boldly doth Hopes Anchor cast
On's sandy bottom) when at last
Heavens storms descend?
'W
•
re Cob-web-Hopes, when God shall come
With's besom of impartial doom
To sweep man's heart, that inner room;
Shall they stand sure?
Oft have I seen a branch in spring
Rent from the root, yet blossoming,
As 'twere some Hopefull growing thing,
But cannot endure.
He that is at the pains and cost
To plant and water it, next frost
Is like to see his labor lost,
And hope to perish,
Surely 'twill pose all skill and art
But only his, that can convert
This
lively Hope
in a
dead Heart
To plant and cherish.
And where there's but a name to live,
Though for a season Hope seems thrive,
When such give up the
Ghost
they give
Their
Hopes
up too.
Good Hopes through grace. And whosoever
Part Righteousness from Hope endeavor
The Helmet from the Brestplate sever,
Which who would do?
But let what waters will assail,
The Hope oth' righteous cannot fail,
Whose Anchor's cast within the veil
Till th' flood assuages.
His Hope's no Lot'ry, hit or miss;
But an Inheritance it is:
Christ is in him the Hope of Bliss,
That rock of ages.
Mine eyes are unto
Zion
-hill
Longing in Hope, yet waiting still
For he that shall, will come, and will
Not always linger.
Therefore in Hope will I rejoice,
Yea when the floods lift up their voice;
When Seas shall roar, to drown their noise,
I will turn a singer.
I will turn a singer, and my song
Shall be by book, lest I go wrong:
For I h've not skilled of music long,
Or holy mirth.
Weeping into the world I came,
Bringing a world of sin and shame:
Bearing the first Apostates blame
Even at my birth.
The fruit old
Adam
and his
Eve
Did so long since together thieve,
Wringing my mother made us grieve
And groan together
And as I thus did weeping come
Out of one grave, I mean the womb;
My face was tow'rds a deader Tomb
And I bound thither.
My life was but a Bondage through
The fear of death, that fatal slough.
But lively Hope forbids me now
All slavish fears.
Oft have I been contemplating
Of death that melancholic thing;
Weeping, till Hope hath made me sing
Drying my tears.
Author and rock of all my Hope,
That hast deaths prison-doors broke ope,
So fastening to Faiths Cable-rope
Hopes Anchor strong.
What though I sail through foaming Seas?
Billows are Pillows, Beds of ease:
Deaths blast rocks me asleep in these;
Waiting erelong
At thy shrill sudden voice to rise,
And rub deaths dust out of mine eyes
When death shall have disgorg'd its prize
Safe on the shore.
Then hold my rudder in thine hand
Who put to Sea at thy command
Till I may make some new-found land
Oh! help me ore.
I need not want an anchor, Lord,
With wood and iron, be'ng so stored.
With what thy Cross and Nailes afford
Had I but skill.
Anchors, I see, by th' Forgers art,
Have both a strait and bending part:
Hope strengthens, yet it bows the heart
To wait God's Will.
The Scripture saith that tribulation
(And 'tis a strange Concatenation)
Works patience; as if vexation
Did make more quiet;
And Patience works Experience:
Experience, Hope: Yet Patience,
I am sure: doth live on Hopes expense
For daily diet.
Thus have I seen the Grand-Childs purse
For the Grand-Siers support disburse
Thus Hope doth Patience feed and nurse;
Patience again
Doth tutor Hope, and teach it know
All points of Heavenly Courtship; How
To wait on God, to bend, to bow,
To bear his train:
To follow him in all his ways,
And so to hold even all its days,
Seeking that honor, glory, praise
That God shall give.
Patience of Hope makes Heaven smile
To see the trodden Camomile,
Whilst underfoot, spring up the while
And the more thrive.
When death comes, with his leaden foot,
Hoping to crush mine Hope ith' root,
The utmost hurt that death can doit
Is but to make
Mine Hope grow up into fruition;
Whilest Faith's translated into vision
Mending thereby my souls condition
Doubling my stake,
What though mine Haven, Heaven lie
Beyond the dead Sea? what though I
Decease? mine Hope shall never die,
Never decay.
What though I walk through th' vale of tears?
Hope is a staff that ever bears:
Hope is a rod chasing my fears
Guiding my way.
What though revengfull Papists burn
Dear
Bucer's
bones still Hope's his urne
Till's ashes to a Phoenix turn
And live afresh.
What though deaths scorching flames presume
To turn my moisture to dry fume?
My soul shall one day reassume
Calcined flesh.
Therefore my dying tongue shall sing:
Yea even my flesh that fading thing
Shall rest in Hope for that day-spring
All th' night of death.
And when I lay my weary head
And bones ith' grave as in a bed,
Let not the mourner say he's dead,
But slumbereth.
Yet bonie death sometimes looks in
Bringing a list of all my sin
Pinching mine Hope till it looks thin
And's like to die:
Death in my very face doth stare
So gastly, as ifit meant to scare
And fright mine Hope into despair,
While sin stands by.
Ah Conscience! Conscience! when I look
Into thy Register, thy Book,
What corner of my heart, what nook
Stands clear of sin?
And though my skin feels soft and sleek,
Scarce can I touch my chin and cheek,
But I can feel deaths jaw-bone prick
Even through my skin.
Yet why art thus cast down, my soul?
Hope still in God, and on him roll.
If Heaven smile, what though death scoule,
And Conscience loure.
A Book of my dear Christ's I have
By which I look my God will save
My soul from sin, my flesh from grave,
And from deaths power.
O death, where is thy victory?
That I might live, my Lord did die
He fled thee not, but made thee fly,
Hav'ng drawn thy sting.
Thou hadst of teeth a double row,
Till Christ by's Cross took thee a blow
When fastening on him. But thou art now
A tooth-less thing.
Well mayest thou bark, but canst not bite,
Bending thy brow, showing thy spite:
Death do thy worst: Hope sets me quite
Beyond thy spleen.
What though my death seems written in
The very parchment of my skin
With the black ink of my foul sin;
Yet have I seen
On both hands of a friend once slain,
But since returned to life again,
A better story Printed plain,
My sights but dim;
Yet in the print oth' nails I see
Life in a Savior's hands for me
Whilst as he hung upon the tree,
Hope hangs on him.
And still shall hang on him until
My bones have learnt to climb that hill
Where now he sits, and whence he will
Yet come down hither
That he may gather into one
Each dust of his, and scatt'red bone;
Then shall he, as a living stone
Translate me thither.
And now, my Lord, what wait I for,
Standing, and knocking at thy door?
I stand and knock at th' door of Hope
Till knocking makes the door stand ope.
We are saved by HOPE, but Hope that is seen, is not Hope,
Rom. 8.24.
LOVE
FRom Faith and Hope I come sweet
Love
to sing
For every Anchor hath its ring
Whereby 'tis wedded to its Cable-Rope.
Love makes the match 'twixt Faith and Hope.
'Twixt Grace and Grace no marriage can be made
But where this golden ring's first had.
O golden Love, thou circling, endless thing!
All grace concenters in thy ring.
What though mine heart be flinty rock and stone?
Yet flints have fire: And have I none?
No spark of Love, thou God of Love! for thee
That hast twice over hammerd me?
There's not one spark kindled upon mine hearth
But at first glance it quits the earth,
As if it knew the element of fire
Were some Diviner thing and high'r.
Lord, I can feel there's such a thing as Love
Warm in my breast, and feel it move;
I find I love my Child, and so doth he:
And shall I not, my God! love thee?
Is Love the only fire that doth descend?
Or is my God, my God, no friend?
Sure all my doubts and fears cannot disprove
The condescension of thy Love.
The Elements, we find, invert their course,
Fearing a
Vacuum
would be worse:
And did not Love stoop low, when God did die
To fill up man's vacuity?
Reader! stop here:
And drop a tear!
When Love that, every Ev'ning, makes my bed
Had not whereon to lay his head:
Except you will call that bloody Cross and bitter
A Love-sick Savior's bed and litter.
When Love itself being as rich as store
To make me rich
•
id become poor:
Unless those tears and bloody drops that fall,
You'll Pearls account and rubies call.
And can the flaming Element of Love
To store my wants drop from above?
Why cannot mine Earth as well to Heaven grow,
As Heavens Love fire come down so low?
Why may I not,
Elijah
-like, aspire
To ride to Heaven in that fire,
That fire of Love that came from thence down hither
On purpose sure to help methither.
When Love to hatred did himself expose,
And prick's own foot to ease his foes:
Printing full proof in his chapt parched skin
What flames of Love there were within.
When Love unthought, unsought for did come down
Exchanging, for a Cross, his Crown
Love undesir'd, Love undeserv'd did take
Mans game to play to save man's stake.
Whilest flames of wrath so sorely did contest
With this Love-fire in Savior's breast
Heightning the heat so far till's blood boy
•
'd ore,
Issuing out at every pore,
Lord! can the eye,
That reads, be dry?
Ah! if it can; let not the writers be:
No tears of Love, my God! for thee?
Lord! could Love make thee take my sins as thine?
Sure then thy sorrows shall be mine.
The stripes that rent thy back, shall smite and knock
My breast, till they have cleft my rock.
The ir'n that in thine hands left such a p
•
int
Shall strike some fire out of my flint.
Shall I not love that friend that loved me So
So Lov'd me when I was his foe!
Lord! let not want of Love increase my score!
My debts were great enough before.
Make me thy Love so burning hot to feel,
As to dissolve and melt my steel:
And burn my stony heart to fervent lime,
As I h've seen fire turn stone sometime.
My heart is thine; Lord thou hast bought that stone
And thou hast fuel of thine own:
Wilit not quit cost? great builder! if it will,
O throw mine heart into thy kill.
Lime is an useful thing in buildings sure:
And lime of stone will best endure:
Knowledge puffs up, but Love is
edifying,
And grows the stronger by long lying.
Oh that I had that lime of Love that is
(As by
Antiperistasis
)
Hotter for water! I would often then
Weep till I even flam'd agen;
But now I mourn,
That I cannot burn.
Canit burn? Alas! my God, I am burning ever:
But oh my burning is a Fever.
Such
hectic heat
doth too too plainly prove
That I am but
infirm
in Love.
Lord, dost not see how Giants do invade
Thy right? my God, confound their trade,
Who using lust for lime, by Hellish art,
Would rebuild
Babel
in my heart.
'It is not so long my God and Savior since
Thou didst expel th' usurping Prince
Rasing his works and strong holds built within
With lime of lust and piles of sin.
Can I Love sin, that hateful cruel thing,
That grinds the Serpents forked sting;
Shew'ng death how twice at once to murder me?
And can I not, my God, Love thee?
Can I Love sin, that puts me on the wrack
Till bones do break and sinews crack?
And Can I not Love him that climb'd the tree?
Wracking himself to take down me?
Can I Love sin, since hatred nere had been?
Never been heard of but for sin?
And can I not love LOVE, that came to die,
To kill hatred and enmity?
Love sin, that founded Hell at his own expense?
And not my God that saves me thence?
Alas! how strangely Love its mark can miss!
Oh that mine head and heart for this
Were both one flood
Of tears of blood!
Or can mine heart like
Josephs
Mistress, make
Love to the Servant? and mistake
These things below for my dear God above
To whom I owe even all my Love?
And then when these chaste Creature-comforts fly
Rather then yield, or gratify,
Can
I
complain unto my Lord, and say
That they did tempt then fly away?
Alas! poor Creatures would not be abused:
And must they yet be thus accused?
And God in them? And that I may be found
Guiltless, must guilt reach God at th' bound?
Thou gavest me these to prove thy Love to me,
But not to steal my Love from thee:
I cannot Love the giver, for his gift;
Alas! my God, that's a poor shift.
Why? shall I court the Bearer, that doth bring
Forgetting him that sends the ring?
All Creature-good in this world or the next
Be'ng but a comment on Loves Text:
This whole Creation be'ng but one round drop
Hanging down from loves fingers top,
If all the world were Pearl, yet why should I
Desire to wear it in mine eye?
So that for this worlds Love I should not see,
My dearest Lord, how to Love thee?
Can I so Love the world? And cannot I yet
Love God that made both me and it?
Lord, I must cry,
Here's Witchery!
If the world be th' inchantress, Lord, I pray
Hasten the Gen'rall Judgment day!
For sure my Love, when 't sees the witch a burning
To its right wits will be returning.
But rather I suspect 'tis Hells black-art
That from my God thus charms my heart.
Remembering 'twas the wily Serpents plot
That first brake the True-Lovers-Knot.
When
Baalams
Divinations could not move
From God's dear
Israel
God's dear Love,
But God that loved them once, would love them still,
Though
Balaam
went from mount to hill.
He next instructs the
Moabites
to lay
Adult'rous Loves in
Isr'else
way
To quench their Love to God through wanton fire
And thereby to incense God's ire.
And if this world play the
Moabitess;
'It is Satan's project, Lord, I guess:
Who see'ng he cannot divert thy Love from me
Would thus divide my Love from thee.
And, is mine heart divided? ah! my God,
Whose clo
•
en foot thereon hath trod
The print discovers. What though
Balaam
's dead?
Thou God of peace! bruise Satan's head.
But I am most afraid the worst's within:
The witch-craft of my native sin.
Sin winds and circles, Lord, so many ways
Till sin ofttimes the Devil raise;
Lord! thou art fire,
Give sin her hire.
Burn up this witch, her crafts, and Philtre-pots:
Sins books of curious arts, charms, knots,
By thy refining Spirit, that I may
Get warmth of Love to thee that way.
Who hath bewitched me that I am so coy
When thou wouldst fain my Love enjoy,
Thou, blessed Three, stand'st suing for mine heart
Who only canst fill every part?
Dear God! who hath bewitched me that I cant
Deny the courting world a grant,
That never yet could fill my heart, unless
It were with griping emptiness?
The garment of thy goodness is entire;
Can keep me warm without a fire:
To which this whole creation's but a shred,
Each Creature's but one single thread.
To give these things their due, they are good for use:
And lovely too: unless their juice,
By Love inordinate, be dried up;
Leaving behind an empty cup.
And is gold rich? and can the mine be poor?
Theirs at the best is borrowed store.
Nay, so long borrowed that it now grows old:
O that my Love could wax as cold,
As cold to earth, as earth is in decay:
But more intense to God each day!
Who'll soon serve earth for all its glitt'ring grace
As we do serve old Silver-lace,
Lord! fire this pile
Of man mean while.
I h've heard good husbands say, that they that borrow
Their stock today, may break tomorrow:
Sure the worlds credit cannot long hold good.
'It is much the world thus long hath stood.
Consid'ring when the world's in fullest trade
How poor and sorry payment's made
Him, that owes all, and must his right recover;
Sure th' world must then all trade give over:
Shall I not therefore deal ith' interim
Less with the world, but more with him,
With him whose Love's an unexhausted spring
Of every good and perfect thing.
Methinks men's trading with the world might stop
At thought of this who keeps her shop.
Alas! my God, the world is Devil ridden:
The thing is known and cannot be hidden.
Hell hath deflour'd the earth, and now I see
'T would put its leavings off to me,
Dawbing false paint on th' face oth' wrinkled Creature
Hav'ng worn and spoiled its native feature.
The earth's all
Egypt
now: And
Egypt's
curse
Is over all the world, or worse:
For
Beelzebub
with his swarming train
Hath all things fly-blown. To be plain
There is no flesh that's sweet, but Savior's, now.
Which Satan tried, but knew not how
To taint. All's dogs-meat else. Lord! teach me choose
And I shall all the rest refuse,
And only wish
For that one dish.
A dish that's wholesome, and 'tis healing too.
Ah my dear God! what shall I do
To Love thy flesh enough that tasted once
For ever heals my broken bones.
Set thine apart, all other flesh is grass:
And is my soul an ox or ass?
That it should Love no higher then my beast?
Or can my soul such fare digest?
Come, Trencher Critics, you that eat by book,
And in your food for physic look,
Your Cook must be some small Apothecary,
Will you allow a Verser vary
From your received rules? and be content
To try a new experiment?
Flesh in a fever's good Divinity,
Which who most eats, scapes best, say I.
Provided that the flesh be sound and good
(For I would be right understood)
As never did, nor could, corruption see:
Ah my dear Savior! I mean thee.
Alas! how low in an high burning Feaver
Of God's displeasure, never never
To have been cured otherwise, did sin
Once bring me, till I did begin
To fall aboard that sacred flesh? And then
How soon did I grow well agen?
Then welcome, gentle guest, if thou hast not
To prize and Love thine health forgot,
Come sit down here
And Love this Chear.
Or tell me is it sweetness and delight
That rather doth thy Love invite?
What more delicious, sweeter thing can be
Than that sweet blood was shed for me?
When I Repentance take, that purging pill
I take it in this Syrup still:
Wha
•
purgeth, pains; and would too much corrode
••
t for this sweet emulgent blood.
You curious Palates, that cannot let one glass
Without a strict Examen pass
Come taste, and tell me if (this blood) this wine
Benit generous and genuine?
The Vine is Divine, nay'tis somewhat more;
And can the blood oth' Grape be poor?
'It is this High-Country-Wine that fills my cup,
When at my Savior's board I sup.
Wine, that's as sweet as wrath of God is bitter,
Which, who hath tasted is the fitter
To relish this rich liquor. Wrath makes dry
But here's the cup of Charity.
This is the grace-cup. Nothing's sweet nor good
Till dashed or sprinkled with this blood.
Men are but Swine, wines are but swill before
This blood man to himself restore.
A Wine so good, fallen Angels might not taste it;
Who therefore did contrive to cast it
Upon the ground; which when they thought to spill
They broach'd for man against their will.
Lord who can love
Thy blood enough?
Or do you Love for Loveliness? Come hither;
My Lord is Lovely altogether.
Alas how am'rous wits forget their duty
To this supreme and perfect beauty!
You fond admirers of a skin-deep hue,
To dusty beauties bid adieu,
To dusty beauties that have mar'd your eyes:
Ah my dear God! that wit were wise!
It cuts mine heart to see much silken wit
And snares and halters made of it.
Halters to th' owners, snares to th'passers by.
How fast
loose
wit can wantons tie,
And stake them down! till first the lover burns
In heart, and then in Hell by turns.
But say his Love be chaste; And she a flow'r;
All's next to nothing the next hour:
'It is killed with kindness, dies when complemented,
And soonest fades when 'tis most scented.
Whose Muse doth dress his Mistress, hangs a Verse
To day upon to morrows Herse:
Friends must be then called in to have away
What wanton wit adores today.
Skin-beauty's but a
Sodom
-apple just:
When crushed, it turns to stench and dust.
The wanton world complains their
Love
is
blind
And I must needs be of their mind;
Whilst for such walking shades they cannot see
My dearest Lord, how to Love thee.
Yet thou art fair
Beyond compare.
Had I a wit, and had I grace I'd bring
My Savior an enamel'd ring,
A ring whose Posy should be this alone,
Stars get ye gone, the Sun hath shone.
Stars? I mean glow-worms: earthen beauties which
Ith' dark do sparkle in a ditch,
And fools mistake for
Stars;
ill touch informs,
And proves them to be
silly worms.
But, Lord, my Muse unworthy is to bear
The shoes that thy fair feet do wear.
Fairer for be'ng so swift, swift to shed blood;
Their own
I mean to do me good.
How fair's thy face then? may I, Lord, one day
Have leave to see, though none can say
How fair it is. My dear, the Sun's a Clod
To thy bright face, fair Son of God!
Wherein still fresh and fresh together grows.
With valleys Lily,
Sharons
Rose.
A rose that never bare prickles of its own;
Yet sinners thorns did Savior crown.
And shall I Love my Champion less for scars
He gat in waging of my wars?
Thy bruises are but beauty spots, my dear,
That make thy Love more fair appear.
Who loves for fleshly gloss and silken skin
May find a
Serpent
oft
within.
But thy deep wounds, Lord, prove thee that thou art
All Lovely to thy very heart.
Beauty thus deep,
Will hold and keep.
Or is it Knowledge, Learning, Science, art
That takes the more ingenious heart?
Come, bookish man, and sit a while down here;
Till thou hast read my dearest dear.
What's that that's printed in his hands and feet?
The print is plain, man, dost not seeit?
A mystery that learned flesh and blood
Never taught yet, nor understood.
I h've sometime stood and wondered at the Owls
How they should prove
Minerva
's Foules:
But since have learnt that learning's blind as Love
Till both be tutor'd from above.
Oh what a Dungeon is the mind of man,
Let
Pallas
paint it what she can!
Some would not be such fools but that they are wise:
And might see better but for eyes.
Lord shall I Love to know, and not know thee,
In whom all wisdoms treasures be?
Great Magazine I whose wisdom's infinite,
Give me that Panoplie of light.
An
Epictetus
or an
Antonine
Ith' dark may make a shift to shine:
But being by thy Sun-light understood
Alas, my God, prove putrid wood.
Shall venturous Students every Toads-head look
For Pearls of knowledge? And thy book,
Thy works lie by unlov'd, unlook'd into?
Thy Pupills, th' Angels donit so do:
But help their sight
By Gospel-light.
Or do I Love for likeness? Ah, my dear,
Whose Image wasit I first did bear?
Whilst yet I stood in Primitive perfection
Lord, what was I, but thy reflection?
So like thee that thyself thou couldst not Love
But Love me too: Nor could I move
Thy Love from me, till I thy likeness lost
Thine Image be'ng sin-slur'd and crossed.
But now I am hateful grown and hating too
Alas, my God, what shall I do
To Love thee and to be beloved of thee?
My Lord, thy Love preventeth me.
For since the ground of liking likeness is,
Rather then my poor Love thou'dst miss;
Since cursed sin made man unlike his maker,
God of man's likeness was partaker.
When sin, to man's undoing, had undone
God's Image; God next sent his Son
In likeness of poor sinful flesh; thereby
Condemning sin ith' flesh to die:
My God was hungry, thirsty, naked, poor:
In fears, in tears, in sweat, in gore:
Was tempted, was betrai'd, forsaken, sold,
Was captivated, kept in hold.
Was judged, condemned, was killed, was buri'd then
That he and I might rise agen
In one Divine and sweet similitude
And Love in likeness be renewed.
And can I yet
Thy Love forget?
Or do I Love for consanguinity?
For nearness and relation? why
For me Christ took, and shed that
Blood
of his;
And do I ask how
near
he is?
My Lord is much more mine, then I mine own
My Lord was mine, when I was none:
My Lord, when I was lost and gone astray,
Was both my Shepherd and my Way.
Surely my Lord and I are near skin,
Ere since my Savior was made SIN
Form, and I made RIGHTEOVSNESS in him.
He is my head and I a limb:
He is the Vine, and I the branch: the root,
Whereof I am a slip or shoot:
Of my salvation he the captain is,
And I am a reprize of his.
He is my Father, I his seed: nay he,
In travail of his soul, bare me:
My brother too, born for adversity;
The
Joseph
of the family.
He is my Maker, yet mine husband too:
This Potter me his clay did woo:
And rather then he'd miss the match did make
Him a
clay-body
for my sake.
Even all men Love
their own,
and shall I not?
Help Lord, and I will knit the knot.
In full acceptance of thy free donation:
Clasp hearts and hands in sweet relation
Lord, thou art mine,
Make me more thine!
Or do I Love for suitable supplies
To all my wants? sure I want eyes
Or I could not want Love, my Lord, to thee
In whom all blessings treasured be.
O that my drop into a Sea could swell
Of Love to him, in whom doth dwell
All fullness, as in bank or house of store,
Even Grace and Bliss for evermore.
Thine be'ng once asked if they would away,
O
whither shall we go?
said they
The words of life eternal, Lord, thou hast.
And that's a stock can never wast.
Goodness is all contracted in thy face,
As Sun-beams in a burning-glass:
Oh that I lay in some directer line
That I might burn whilst thou dost shine.
Am I a sinner? thou art a propitiation:
I h've wrought confusion, thou salvation.
I h've purchased death both for myself and thee,
But thou to life hast ransomed me.
As God, thou
seest;
as man, thou
feel'st
my grief.
As
both,
thou art suitable relief:
My Creditor, and yet my Surety too:
Paying
and
pard'ning
what I owe.
Creatures are Cisterns, leaking vessels, they
Cannot supply themselves one day
And me much less. My springs are all above
My light, my life: Why not my Love?
Oh 'tis thy right:
Accept my mite.
Or is it Love that sharpens Love again?
My Savior, every grinding pain
Of thine on Earth, and present Intercession
Pleads for a Love beyond expression.
'It is Love I live upon. And do I yet
Suspect thy Love! or question it?
Lord, if my Living be nit full proof, thy dying
Gives evidence beyond denying
Herein is Love without dissimulation
Thy Love thou provest by thy
Passion,
Whose every wound with open mouth cries out
We are Loves Vou
•
hers, if you doubt.
When Heav'nly Hosts first saw thee breath if then
They run and preach good will tow'rds men
If thus they comment on thine Infant-breath
My God! what thought they of thy death!
Oh! how he Lov'd him? if who saw thee shed
Tears for thy friend
Laz'ras
be'ng dead,
Cryed out; What might they've said that saw thee die
Bleeding for me, thine enemy.
And dare I? can I yet renew that grief?
Doubting thy Love, through unbelief.
If I but say I Love, how doth it grieve me
If yet my Friend will not believe me.
And dare I yet suspect the God of Love
Who says, who swears, who dies to prove
He Loves me. Shall I fail in proof of mine
And then, to make a mends, doubt thine!
Doubling thereby
Each in
•
ury?
I find, I feel, I see, and cannot I say,
He Loves me? doubts out of my way.
Doubtings by Demonstrations overcome
Sure then if ever may be dumb.
Or if I needs must doubt and jealous be
Lord I will suspect myself not thee.
My soul! lov'st thou thy Lord? say yea or nay,
My God I am gravel'd what to say.
Yet will I hold mine heart to th' S
•
rutiny
Till it affirm or else deny
Deny? my God! I dare not, nay I cannot,
And yet, methinks, affirm I may not.
Oh that I could. This only can I say
Dear Lord, that I cannot say nay
Thoughts in again! (Loves no such neutral thing)
You must a certain Verdict bring.
Only be sure, for 'tis your own behoof,
Your Verdict stands on certain proof.
Alas my thoughts can never solve this doubt
Unless thy Love Lord help me out.
My God what crowds of witnesses seem strive
To be deposed oth' Negative?
My seldom thoughts of thee, my cold devotions,
Heartless profession, lifeless motions;
My wanton Dalian with the world and sin:
My want of kindness to thy kin:
My little longing when thou art out of sight
Or lab'ring to regain the light,
I sigh to say
How these plead NAY.
These? ah my God! and many more than these;
My little little care, to please;
Or fear, of grieving thee, my want of leisure,
For thee; and in thee, want of pleasure.
My numbe Lethargick zeal when men defame
Thy Saints, thy worship, ways, or name,
How say I that I Love thee, when mine heart
So poorly plays the Lovers part?
My Love commands mine eye, mine hand, my purse
Can I Love thee, yet serve thee worse?
Or must my friend of all friends be denied
What I yield all I Love beside?
Alas! my Lord! such proof had almost got
A Verdict past I Love thee not;
But that one witness came and crossed the rest
Stifling that Verdict in my breast.
Yet 'twas not much that witness had to say
But sorely weeping cried I pray
Ifit be as you pretend that there's no fire,
Whence is this
smoking flax
desire?
My Jesus! thou art my Judge, the Judge of all,
To whom my Love must stand or fall
Thou that knowest all things knowest that I abhor
My self for Loving thee no more.
My dear! I h've sometime longed, and do I not
Long yet that thou wouldst loose one knot
To tie another? what's this life to me,
If I must still be strange to thee?
To Love is life,
Else life's but strife.
Oh that I were a Graduat in that College
Where Love is known that passeth knowledge:
Where smiling Saints do comprehend and dwell
In Love incomprehensible.
Where perfect Love casts out tormenting fear:
Nor
theirs
nor
thine
is doubted there:
Where full-eyed Love may see to interline
Thy text with some short Notes of mine.
But whilst I am low as earth, short as a span,
Fleet as a shade, narrow as man
The height, length, depth, and breadth, of Love to measure
I have nor skill, my God, nor leisure.
Love that's as high as Heaven, for thence it came
And thither with it bound I am.
Love that's as long as length; eternity
Must say how long, for so cannot I.
Love that's as deep as Hell, for thence it took,
Me; And the day's down in my book.
Love that's as broard as sin that spreads all over
Yet, Lord! thy Love my sin doth cover.
Th' Astronomer what houses stars do keep
Can tell, the diver gage the deep;
But I, poor Christ's-Cross-Sholler, cannot spell
LOVE, though a monasyllable.
Lord I could be content mine earth might turn
To ashes, so my soul might burn
And all my powers become one Holocaust
Reaching thy Love and life at last;
Lord stir this fire
And raise it higher.
Here's a poor broken heart, a Sacrifice
Which yet thou'st said thoult not despise
I bind it on thine Altar in desire
Heavens favor set it all on fire!
Lord shall I ever be a Questionist?
Help me commence in Love to Christ:
Or still incept'ring? pass a grace mine heart
May once be master of this art.
But as I said, methought, I heard one say,
Away bold Freshman you must stay
Your time: there's many'n act ere this degree.
And hare there must no hudlings be.
Lord if it must be so, my now Condition.
I tender to thine own Tuition
Till I have better Arguments to prove
I am more proficient in thy Love.
Charge thyself with me. Me and all that's mine
Subject I to thy discipline,
Lord I will have no mind distinct from thee
Who givest all thats thine to me.
If others ask me, can you walk abroad?
I will answer, Go and ask my God.
Where thou sayest go though flesh and blood say stay
I will creep if I cannot run that way.
Or if I, as I fear I shall, transgress
This law of Love I now express;
I will humbly strip myself next serious thought
Till thou hast whipt me for my fauit:
Then kiss thy rod;
And cry, my God!
Then if thou smile thy favor Lord shall be
Like rain upon mown grass to me.
Or like warm Sun-beams that succeed some shower
Till joys poor Bud's a full-blown flower
But I will watch left some
Old-Adam
seed,
With joys fair flower, put forth some weed.
Which whenit first peeps, thy weeding knife I will borrow
Lest the ground harden by tomorrow.
I will mark thine eye; a better brighter Star,
Than that that guid
•
the Mariner.
My dull remissness, Lord, thine eye, shall whet
To more observance, when sharp set.
Thy quick and hasty look shall quicken me:
I will away to my Book, or Knee.
I will chide my busy play-fellows; Away,
My master frowns; I dare not play.
Lord, I will see by thine eyes; thine every beck
Shall be my Bridle curb, and check.
The
Watch
thou givest me I will keep for thy sake:
And wind it up when ere I wake.
The
Book
thou gavest me, that blood-guilded Book,
I will ever, ever in it look
Till I find thee there, and myself, thy beauty,
And learn to know and do my duty.
Then showing to others, See the token Love
I will say hath sent me from above:
Keeping the cleaner hands that I may not
Discolour it with any spot;
Unless a tear
Drop here or there.
The task thou setst me Lord I will nor complain:
Thy work shall be my wage and gain:
Clean as I can I will doit if sullied then
My tears shall wash it ore agen.
Thy strict commands and Love-lined yoke shall be
A neck-chain of pure gold to me.
Thine hardest sayings when my stomachs que
•
zie
Love shall digest, and make them easy.
Thine is no
Laban's
-service if it were,
Yet Love two Prentiships might bear:
But to be bound, or held in durance by
Thy
Royal Law,
is liberty.
Mine heart shall be less
loose,
and yet more
large
Be'ng stretched out unto all thy charge:
And where my life falls short of either table
Love
shall
fulfill;
for Love is able.
If thou wilt come, and take an Inventory
Of all thats mine; I will not be sorry:
If thou wilt search and ransack all I have
I will help thee, or thine help I will crave.
If ought I have displease, or if I doubt,
I will, for sureness throw it out.
If I can pleasure thee with ought thats mine:
I will quit my Title, Lord tis thine.
If mine heart fit thy walking thou shalt have it
If not, yet Love shall mend and pave it
With such clear solid stone even all within
As yet can weep for every sin,
Washing thy feet
When men donit seeit.
Mine heart be'ng thus possessed, when strangers come
I will say thou'st taken up my room:
Then if thou ask whose purse, or parts are these
I will answer, thine Lord if thou please.
If on mine Houre-Glass thou then lay thine hand
And ask whose is this running sand
I will answer, Lord the little's left is thine:
But what's run out is no more mine.
Or if thou ask me, who are those at th' door?
Smiling on them; I will say, my poor,
I will
draw my soul out
when thy
Lazar
knocks
My
Cupboard
shall be th' poor man's box.
If others come, like those poor
Greeks,
to me
With a Sir, we would Jesus see
I will gladly tell them where my Lord doth Sup
Do'ng all I can to help them up.
If others curse thee
Shimes
like; if they
Cast dust, I will blow the dust away
With sighs and groans; if they thine honor stain
I will weep and wash it clean again.
Or else I will chide or fight if thou shalt bid
(But first of all with T
•
ai ours hid
At home) I will fear no colors whilst above
Thy Banner over me is Love.
Who sues to be a favourite of mine
I will ask him first if he be thine,
If not, I will pray him to be reconciled
To thee, that so my Love to th' Child
May a
•
l be found
Thine at the bound.
Or when thy tender Lily bleeds, my God
Torne with those cru
•
l
•
thorns abroad
Or rent with Schisms at home and heart division
I will what I can play the Physician.
I will plead with thee with them; if things grow worse
I will bleed myself to turn the course
When I thy Peoples Hearts divided see
Surely mine Heart shall broken be.
Thy Love hath lent me all the balm thats thine
Why should not then thy sores be mine
My God they shall: but chiefly when my Passion
Or lust provokes thine indignation.
I will bereveng'd on one, myself I mean,
And grieve till thou art pleased agen.
Passions shall live like
Gibeonites,
their Law
To hew thy wood and water draw.
So all I have shall serve thee till I know
My Love hath life and find it grow.
Lord I will account of all as it conduces
To help Loves growth and serve its uses.
If in the Sunshine of a prosp'rous state
My fire cannot burn so clear for that.
I will rather choose some courteous clouds return
Then see Loves holy fire not burn.
Or if I fail of ought I here profess
And thy rod cannot my fault redress
Rather then live thy grief, I will yield to die
So Love inflict the penalty.
That paid my score
By death before.
If Love yet let me live a growing debtor
I will study hard but I will live better:
Live I mean Love; that's the Commandments en
•
And thats the life that I intend.
Though Love wax cold abroad, and sin abound,
Hard Frost ore spreading all the ground.
Shall th' heat of Kitchen fire be more increased
And not thy flames within my breast?
Lord what
•
a Silver Tongue ifit cannot talk
A Golden Leg if 't cannot walk
Faith that can Mountains move when 'tis desired
Or
Martyrdom,
if Love be nit fired.
What if I give my goods and all my store,
But not in
Love
to feed thy poor?
But if in Love a cup of water cold
Though the drink's mean, the
cup
is Gold.
Love tunes my Pray'rs, makes Praises Musicall:
Which else at best but howl or ball.
Love makes two
Mites
to God as acceptable
As if to bring two worlds 'twere able.
True Love's true beauty, beauties else but paint
No more am I if Love I want.
Lord help me
put on Love
to keep me warm:
To dwell in Love
secure from harm.
To
walk in Love,
till Love ith' stream do lead
To Love that is the Fountain head
Or th' Ocean which if I cant comprehend
I will plung into: that in the end
Lost I may be,
If
lost,
in thee.
Yet when I think what pent and narrow room,
Ith' Virgins Womb,
The God of Love lodged in, methinks mine heart
May hold its part.
Into mine heart O shed thy Love abroad,
My God! my God.
Both be'ng Spirit, what can better suit,
Then th'
Spirits fruit?
Drink thirsty vessel, till thou fill or break!
But never leak.
The broken Heart, and truly contrite Breast
Holds Love the best:
And the best Love: a Love more worth then wine.
Lord I mean thine:
Then as the purpose of thy G
•
ace and Love
None can remove
Let me So Love thee as to part and lever,
Lord, n ver, never.
Ungirt, Unblest,
we say: my God
Love is
The bond
of B
•
iss
And
perfectness:
A Grace, whose Bondmen be
The only free.
Works
without
Faith
can never, Lord, please thee
Nor p
••
fi me.
Faith
without
Love,
cannot operate o
•
move
But
works by Love.
Love is a Grace that stands her ground in Glory
That upper story.
Love, when
Tongues,
prophecies, and know
•
edge fail,
Ent'ring the Vail,
Possesseth as Supreme and
highest
Grace
The
Holiest place.
When Faith and Hope do thither wait upon her,
As Maids o
•
Honor
Sole Love is left as
Queen
of all the Graces
In God's Embraces.
Mean while, Lord, to be
sick of Love
to thee
Is
health
to me.
They that have not this
sickness,
h
•
ve a worse,
•
hy
plague
and curse.
If any man LOVE not the Lord Jesus Christ, let him be Anathema Maran-atha,
1 Cor. 16.22.
PRAYER.
NExt th' Trinity of
Persons
and of
Graces
Mans three main
Duties
Muse and Method
Who views my God and Grace in all their Beauty places.
Canit (I should think) but take delight in Duty.
But who believs, Hopes, Loves (I am sure of that)
Will Love to Pray, to Hear, to Meditate.
Prayer
's the first
breath
put forth in
crying
then
When, through sad
pangs,
poor souls are
born agen.
Heaven well commends Faiths
midwifery,
and says,
The Child's no
still born,
for behold he prays.
Prayer
is the
rapper
at Heavens door:
Faith
knocks,
Who's there? saith
Love
within doors, and
unlocks.
Prayer
is the
key:
what e're ith' lock retards;
Prayer,
•
yld
with
mourning,
gently slips the
wards,
And moves the
Spring,
God's heart: Doth
Ephraim
mourn?
The
bolt
gives back, Jehovah's bowels
turn.
Prayer
is an
Arrow
from a
well-bent
heart:
Watch the
Returns,
and see what 'twill impart
Of Heavens
Intelligence:
in the'
floods
decrease
This
mournful Dove
brings th'
Olive branch
of peace.
Prayer
is the saced
Bellows
when these blow,
How musically doth faiths
Organ
go;
Thus Prayer proves Faith an
Instaument:
and Love
Answers to this
wind-music
from Above,
In sweet consort, with ravishing consent,
Upon that
Lute
(that dear string'd Instrument)
Whose strings are
Bowels
of that
Lamb once slain,
Who makes the Music, be'ng!
Alive again.
Prayer
is the sacred
Bellws,
when these blow,
How doth that
Live-cole
from God's
Altar
glow!
By Prayer
Love
burns to
zeal:
and hot desire
Baptizeth
the souls fuel all with
fire.
Prayer
breath's the
gale,
whilst Faith doth
navigate
Ith' brittle
bark
of Mans frail mortal state:
Good Hope
's the
Cape:
fair
Heaven,
and fair
wind!
Whilest Faith, in pray'r steers the
low ballast
mind.
Prayer
is Faiths
Limbeck
there the Promise lies
And thence
distils:
mock not Prayr's
watery eyes.
On th'
knees
of Prayer Faith brings forth
Promises,
As
Bilba
sometimes bare on
Rachel's
knees.
Prayer
is Faiths
Bucket
(Prayer doth upward move,
Drawing its
waters
from those
wells above
)
Chain'd to that
Bucket
of the
Blessing,
so
That that
comes down,
as this doth
upward go.
Prayer
is Faiths
Pump,
whereit works till th' water come
Ifit come not free at first, Faith
puts in some;
Some truly penitential
tears:
and then
Pumping the
Promise,
pays itself agen.
Prayer
is the Christians
Pulse:
Prayer instantly
The
Temper
or
Distemper
will descry.
Some
read;
some
sing
and some their
pray'rs
can
say,
He's an
Elias
that his pray'rs can pray.
Prayer
lifting up its
holy hands
can dart.
To Heaven that hand-granado of the Heart,
Of the
whole Heart,
which kindled with
desire
In
fervent
motion
breaks,
sets Love
on fire:
Compassions
burn
•
Heaven, suff'ring violence,
Grows to
surrender
unto man, propense.
Prayer
's a chief piece of Faiths
Artillery,
Take a
right ground,
mount
Prayer,
aim
right,
let
fly:
Doth Heaven hold out? let Heaven hear from Faith
What force Prayer
home-charged
with a Promise hath.
Doth Hell assault? let
fervor
fire this Gun
And the
report
shall make bold
Legion
run.
Pray'rs
Rhetoric
commands,
whenit
begs,
and so
Makes most
victorious
whom it brings most
low.
Prayer
lifteth up the Eyes, Hands, Heart
we see;
When Prayer most humbly doth
bow down
the
knee.
Prayer makes Man
Prince with God:
Doth
Jacob kneel,
Saith King of Glory, Rise up Israel!
Prayer,
in the
silent Hannah,
loudly
Speak
•
;
Prayer
both
Manasseh's heart,
and
prison,
breaks.
Elijah's
Prayer doth
pierce
the
brassie
skies:
And makes the
Tears
to stand in
Heavens eyes.
'It is not an
armed Amalek
can stand
When Prayer lifts up a
Moses
's
naked Hand.
As
Thunder struck
Philistines once did fall,
D
•
wn tumbles
Rain,
and th'
Enemy
withal,
At th'Lightning Legions Pray'
•
. Oh who can war,
Where
private Soldiers
such
Commanders
are?
Prayer
be'ng aboard the great Leviathan,
In whose close Cook-room
Jonah
's shipt, poor man!
Mak
•
s
Land,
runs th'
Hull
on shore, and open breaks
The Pris'ners way, by
blowing-up
the Decks.
Prayer
undertakes to discipline the
SUN:
To teach that
Giant
Postures, when to Run,
When to
Retreat,
to make a Halt, to stand:
At praying
Joshua
's
word of Command,
This Rowling Eve, in Heavens Brow stands still;
Wondering
to see Faiths Prayer thus work its will.
Fifteen Degrees, when
Hezekiah
prayed,
His
Life,
and ten the
Sun
ran retrograde,
Thus
Pray
'r prevails in
Heaven, Earth,
and
Seas:
Add but its conquest over
Hell
to these?
How th'
Air
of Prayer
chokes
the serpentine brood
Of that old crooked
Dragon
in the
flood;
Sin,
Satan's
spawn,
and how the intestine
Thorn,
Is by true Prayr's
compunction
out-worn:
How th'
Messenger of Satan
's buffeted,
Who came to
buffet:
how the Serpents
Head,
Under the
knees
of Prayer is
sqeez'd
at last;
And
Beel-zebub
is himself
outcast,
By the rare force of Prayer, that grows more strong
By Fasting, and more
fresh
by watching long.
The sum of all is Pray'rs stupendous Art,
To bind
God's hands,
and keep in hold his
Heart.
Prayer importuning this
Sampson
hath found,
Himself revealing; how he may be bound;
Even God be
bound,
who's infinitely
free,
Yet saith to Faith and Prayer Command ye me.
The Prayer-hearing God the
Father
is:
The Prayer-perfuming God that
Son
of His,
(With flagrant, fragrant Incense of His Merit)
The Prayer-inditing God is God the
Spirit.
Pray'rs Tears are washed in God's Blood, & its means
Are
air'd
with God's unutterable groans:
Thus Prayer prevails with God: yet Praises shall
Not
Prayer,
but th' God of Prayer, victorious call,
Who's
All in All.
Pray always with all PRAYER, and watch there unto with all Perseverance,
Eph. 6.18.
HEARING.
FRom Prayer to Hearing I proceed
For that prepares for this indeed
But who from
Hearing
turns his ear away
The Lord
abominates to hear him pray,
Hark? tis God's
voice:
can man forbear
To hear Him
speak
that made the
Ear?
Why should the
Head
of
hearing Ears
make show
Since such
Deaf Ears
upon Mans
Heart
do grow?
Heaven did to poor Mans misery
Give
ear
before he gave the
Cry.
Methinks a Savior's words should all sound loud,
Acuted
with the
Accents
of his Blood.
What vile
Dishonesty
appears
By Mans disgraceful
loss of Ears?
And y
••
let
Sirens frog,
and Satan
knock;
〈◊〉
Hear can
〈◊〉
too
•
ight, too soon
unlock;
No
Cords
can
hold,
or
Lusts
be
bound,
Till All is
over-board
and
drowned.
When th'Serpent
charms
this
Add
•
r
hears, but when
Heaven
charm's
more wisely, th' Ears are
charmed
agen.
Most what I see a monstrous sight
Most have
two Ears,
yet neither's
Right,
God gave them
two,
yet they'll by no means lend
So much as
one
to such a bounteous Friend.
Sure such a Friend would soon
repay,
By
giving ear
to what they pray.
God ever takes up Ears on
Interest,
And doth his greatest
Creditors
pay best.
They teach their very
Ears
to pray
Who
listen
well what God shall say.
Th'
uncircumcis'd in Ear
bid God deny,
Refusing Him that speaketh,
when they
cry.
The
Deaf Ear'd-Idol
is abhorred
And
Men
like Idols, of the Lord:
Who
deafness
plagues with
deafness,
and doth turn
His
Ear
from
Dives
whilst his
Tongue
doth burn.
Lord therefore to
Deaf Hearers
give
To
live to hear,
to
hear and live.
Yea into th'
Harvest
send forth
Laborers
To fill thy
floor
by gathering in of
Ears.
Thou sow'st thy
Word
as
Seed,
and then,
'It is fit thou reap the
Ears
of
Men,
As
Mary weeping
heard till
showers
of tears,
Full
ripe
for thine own
reaping
made her
Ears.
What
Heaps
shall in thy
Garnets
be
When
Ears
are
Circumcis'd
by Thee?
Fair
Zion
shall be like an
heap of Wheat
That
round about with Lilies is beset.
When
Malchus
lost an Ear thy
touch
(A Savior's skill and virtue's such)
R
•
pair'd that Loss: Lord 'tis but
Ask
and
Have:
Thou canst find
Ears
in
Lazarus
his
Grave.
Thou
David's Heir
of
David's Keys
Canst
shut
and
open
as thou please,
Thy still voice loud
winds,
and proud
waves
obey;
Unto thy Word, let not
Men's Ears
say
Nay.
Thou didst a
Pris'ner
once impow'r
(
Judge Felix
be'ng
Auditor
)
To give the
Charge
that took the Judge by th'
Ear
More
Bonds
did then on th'
Bench
then
Barr
appear.
When Heavens great Guns from
tire
to
tire,
According to thy Word
give fire
Kadesh
doth tremble:
Hinds
do
calve
for fear:
The
howling
Desarts, and
deaf
Rocks give ear.
And is Mars
Heart
more
wild?
more
hard?
More
full of noises?
stronger
bar'd?
Yet is the star the
key-hole:
Lord put in
Thy
finger,
then the gentlest word will win.
All
turns
and moves: One
Eph
•
phatha.
Removes obstructions out of th' way;
Then th' Ear shall welcome every
second word
Wi
•
h a
Come in thou Blessed of the Lord!
The Scriptures speak of th'
Learned
Ear;
S
•••
then thy
tongue
must
teach
to hear,
Morning by morning let thy
Music
make
The
heavy Ears
of Mans dull mind to
wake.
If
Sons of God,
fair
Angels,
stand
Waiting the
Son of God's
command,
(Which when it comes, who sees these Holy things,
Might see their
Ears
converted into
wings
)
If the
Deaf Devil
lends an
Ear
Not led by Love but forced by Fear
And if the
sworn, plague, famine
only know
By hearkening to his Word they
Come
and
Go;
In vain doth poor Man stop his Ear
And say in's Heart He'l never hear:
Harvests
bring
Ears:
and such is the
Worlds end:
Graves
must find
Hearers
then; The
Dead
attend.
Then Happy He that sooner heard,
Hearing before
for afterward;
God had his
Ears
on Earth, and doubtless He
Shall with
full sheaves
repaid in Heaven be.
If
Sol'mons servants
were so blest
That
coun'd
their
Lesson
from his
breast,
How Happy're those
Disciples
then whose
Ears
Are tuned to the
true Music
of the
Sphears?
Where the
First-Mover
is
Free Grace,
Free Purpose
moves ith' second place:
Third
Orbe
's the
Word of Grace
in which do shine
As many
Stars
as
Promises
Divine
These Lessons so Divine, so good
(The
Orbes
be'ng
Oil'd
in Savior's
blood
)
Do so divinely correspond, that so
Needs must the
Hearer
the
Diviner
grow.
Then comes that holy
Turtle Dove,
Gently descending from above;
And stealing through the
Earth-hole
into th' heart,
Doth
Heavens Intelligence
on Earth impart.
This is a
joyful sound
indeed
What
Halcyon
days shall hence succeed,
Whilest
Thunders
terror makes Deaf Rebels quail,
Christ
•
voice to his Disciples is
All hail!
If God that rules all otherwhere
Love so to move the
Orb of th' Ear,
Sure then the
Blessed
of the Lord are they
That
Hearing
hearken,
Hearkening
that Obey.
The Humble Hearer may invite
God Guest-wise to a Disht Delight
A fervent
whole-broke-heart
served up in
Tears
The
Bread
be'ng made oth'
Contrite hearers Ears.
Nay God invites Himself to
sup
Where such delights are so served up
By a
clean hand,
whereth'
ear
and the
heart's
kept hot
God is Mans
Guest,
and Heaven will pay the
shot
A letter
H
is not say we
Let HEARING then mine EARING be.
Thou God of
Israel bore
thy
servants Ear,
That I in i
•
this
Jewel
still may
wear.
Let everyone be swift to HEARE. But be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving your own Souls,
Jam. 1.21, 22.
MEDITATION.
I come to sing the last but not the least,
Be'ng that that
Clencheth
in man's mind and breast
Those
Nails
th' Assemblies Masters drive
Not t' eat but to
Digest,
makes thrive.
Sweet, sacred thing! Caelestiall
Contemplation!
Old
Enochs Trade,
young
Isaac
•
Recreation.
That furnishest Mans thoughtful breast
With Greatest
Work,
and Sweetest
Rest.
Israel's
sweet Singer
used when first awake,
His
Lark-like
Rise, upon thy
wings,
to take;
With which, he made his
morning-flight:
Of which, his
Feather-bed
at night.
The nimble
Life-guard
of that Royal mind,
Were
Thoughts,
by thee divinely
Disciplin'd:
Marshall'd in each days
front
and
rear,
Greatness thus guarded know's no fear.
When anxious Musings would invade that soul;
When
Cares
would
clog,
or make it stomach-foul,
Thou didst
exo
•
erate,
Thy
skill,
Did still prepare the
Stomack-pill.
Thy
Physic
having wrought; and
hungry health
Thine
hopeful Patient
re-surprised by stealth
Then thou that
honey-comb
didst drain;
And break the
Bone,
that did contain
The
fat,
the
sweet,
which from the
Promise
flow's
(Whereof the sensual worldling nothing knows)
Thus Meditation first
sets right
Then
sa
•
iat's
the souls Appetite.
Man's fed with
Manna;
void of surfeits fear:
Where Meditation's
Cook, Digestions
clear:
Mortals, thus fed with Angels
fare;
Converted into
Angels
are.
By
Contemplation
was that
Darling
dressed,
When Guest-wife Heaven bad him to a
feast.
John
's
clothed in spirit,
when they call
To keep the
Lord's days
festival.
In
Contemplations Mount
who dwell, can stretch
Their hand to Heaven that
Starry Crown
to reach:
And dress themselves in that bright
Sun
Whilest
under-foot
they tread the
Moon.
In
Contemplations
Pisgah they, that have
At once a view of
Canaan,
and their grave.
(In this worlds
Desert
wearied)
Do willingly undress to Bed.
Sweet sacred
Meditation!
may I be
Wrought, recreated, guarded
thus by thee:
Physic'd
and
fed
by thy
Dispensatory:
By thee be
dressed
with Grace, prepared for glory.
I.
Then learn O man! to part betwixt
Dead earth
and th' earth wherewith thou're
mint:
Sure
walls of
•
lay
may higher rise,
Then what in earths
•
ead dungeon
lies.
The Soul with Earth's already clad,
Earth upon earth
would make more sad.
Shall
wings
make massy
Mountains
fly?
Shall
hands
stitch
Earth
unto the sky?
Then
dung-bill dro
•
es
scale
Heaven
may,
And
Muck-worms
creep in the'
Milkie way.
To carry Earth to Heaven some think:
But must Earth
rise?
or Heaven
sink?
Nor Earth nor Heaven must be their prize;
But a
fools
(Mah'mets)
Paradise.
If yet thine Earth to Earth adhere,
Then let the
Dead
the
Dead
interre;
If thou cannot
lift
the inferior part;
Yet, as
God's Offring,
heave thine
heart.
Thy
Body
's but thy
Beast,
and sure
All else is but its
furniture:
Leave then thy
heavy jade
below,
Up to the place
that God shall show.
Earth's ever moving to Earths
Center;
Man's for a more sublime Advent'r:
'It is pity Dust in th'
Air
or
Eye
Should hinder a
Celestial spy.
With lumbering Body leave behind?
The low, th' ignoble,
servile mind:
Such men I mean as cannot out-pass
Old
Abrah'ms servants,
or his
Ass,
The
secret secker
only knows
What
secrets
Heaven can disclose.
God's
Holy of Holies
still shuts out
The
vulgar
and
unholy rout.
In
secret places
of the stairs
And
clefts of Rocks
lie mine Affaires.
Angels
will scarce in
crowds
appear.
We say The
few'r
the
better cheer.
If
busy Ants
of mole-hill birth
Promiscuously
converse on Earth,
Let th' High-born
Bird of Paradise
Scorning the
Earth,
still scale the
skies.
An
Ant-hill
and
Exchange
agree,
Save, Men the
greater Trifters
be,
Thus mortals
toil
to live
below,
Whilest Man by toil to
Heaven
might
go.
What though thou've been
shor
•
-winded?
sure
Heavens hill
can
Earths green-sickness
cure.
Or what needest dread the
journeys length,
Whilest all along thy
way's thy strength?
II.
BEe'ng thus Ascended,
Bind
and
slaughter
Thy fin, thine
Only Child of laughter,
In this
Mount God will
soon be
seen
If some Dear sin dont intervene;
Dear sin
indeed? whilst Angels
sect
Their
first Estates
for it and Hell.
Dear sin!
whilst for its
bu
•
ks
men do
Fair Heavens
household-bread
forgo.
A
present flash,
and
future flame
Is the best Income sin can name.
'Twas sin eclipsed the Angels Crown,
And what
brought
them, will
keep
thee,
down.
Man dost not see how
Cherubs
stand
With flaming swords on every hand,
From
rape
of such to guard
Lifes Tree
As of
dead works
the workers be?
Ah!
guilty
soul, darest
look abroad,
Or
unagreed
darest
walk with God?
To reconcile darest thou aspire
Thy
dross
with that
consuming fire?
Sure such
Atonement
shall begin,
When
sin
proves
grace,
or
grace
proves
sin.
Since
Earth
's too dead, too dark, too low;
Sure
Hell
to Heaven shall never go.
III.
BEe'ng thus far onward in this
steep,
Wouldst further
climb?
then learn to
creep.
Who try can tell th'
Ascents
like these
Are the best s
•
all'd on th'
hands
and
knees.
Angels first
rose,
then
fell;
and so
By growing
too high,
became
so low.
But
Christ
did raise his
Royal Crest
By building such a
lowly nest,
The
Pharisee
that nothing knows
Of the
true Temple,
boldly goes
Into its shadow there to boast
Reck'ning
proud fool
without his Host.
The
Publican
doth smite upon
His
Heart,
as if 'twere made of
stone:
Which
stone
despised thought 't lay below
Did to a
Temple
sooner grow.
Unto God's Altar
nakedness
God suffers to have no access:
Th' endowments of men's minds we call
Their parts,
importing therewithal,
No man of parts can
decent
be
Unless
clothed
with
humility,
The
Highest
to the
low
gives grace:
Who
veil
•
heir own shall
see
his face▪
In dust and ashes
self abhorred
Are the
accepted of the Lord.
Most
flaring
fair faced
Dinas
are
Sooner
undone
for being
fair:
The
veiled Rebekah Isaac
takes,
And his dear bosom-consort makes.
How can a
near acquaintance
grow?
Whilest God proud hear
•
s
far off
doth know
Proud hearts
know not themselves
and then
Sure Heaven must needs be out o
•
ken.
Whilest the
void Air
and worthless wind
Brooks no way to be
down confined,
Earthquakes must all things overthrow
Rather than empty Air keep low;
Gems, Jewels;
India's
Treasures
dwell
In meanest Caverns
low roof'd
Cell.
Thus from the
pots
the Lord doth take
And into Crowns his
Treasures
make.
Would'st then be profited by me
From
earth, sin,
and
proud self
get free.
Yet 'tis a
Trinity
indeed
After the which with winged speed
I would pursue, and ever may
Both
body, soul,
and
spirit
pray.
He whom I seek, and ever shall
Is
THREE,
and
ONE:
And
ONE
and
ALL.
MEDITATE upon these things, give thyself wholly to them, that thy proffiting may appear to all,
1 Tim. 4.51.
FINIS.