Saint Peters Path to the Joyes of Heauen: WHEREIN IS DESCRIBED THE FRAILTIE OF FLESH, THE power of the Spirit, the labyrinth of this life, Sathans subtiltie, and the Soules saluation.

As also the Election, Liues and Martyrdomes, of the twelue Apostles.

By W. B.

Poenitentiae nemo nimis Cupidus.

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At London Imprinted by Felix Kingston. 1598.

TO THE RIGHT WOR­SHIPFVLL SIR RICHARD MVLLENEX KNIGHT: ALL health of bodie, increase of ioy, with the full fruition of perfect feli­citie.

RIGHT Worshipfull, It is reported that Althema hoping to gratifie Alexander that famous Conque­rour, with some excellent piece of workemanship, searched so farre in the depth of his Arte, as striuing with cunning to be curious, his pen­cill past beyond his skill, not being able to make his worke perfect: who being blamed by his friend (Pethieus) for imboldning himselfe so vnaduisedly, answered, that although Arte wanted to beau­tifie the worke, yet heart and good will did make perfect that which lacke of cunning had left vnperfect: whose answere (Right Worshipful) as one guiltie of a greater crime, I claime for the sufficient excuse of my follie, in beginning this worke rudely, continuing rashly, and ending rawly.

None can expresse a Passion that he feeleth not, neither doth the penne deliuer, but what it copieth out of the minde. This passionate Discourse, thought it reach not to the dignitie of Pe­ters repenting, yet shall I thinke my endeuours well apaid, if it may [...] some skilfuller penne to supplie in this matter my want [...] [...]bility, and exercise their happier talents in the like pie­ [...] ▪ I confesse my fault in committing these vnpolisht lines to the Presse, yet I craue pardon with fauourable censure, and thus [Page] farre dare I answere for my selfe, that although Demosthenes had a plaudit for his Oration, because it was curious, yet Nimi­us got the Sentence for the trueth of his plaine Tale.

This worke of S. Peters path to the ioyes of heauen, I hum­bly commit to your Worshippes protection, which if it may please you to let this tearie Mappe passe vnder the countenance and credite of your Name, and that you will deigne to reade it ouer, and therewith seeme to be but pleased, I account my selfe highly fauoured.

Apelles presented Alexander with the counterfeit of Cam­paspe, the face not fully finished, because hee liked the Picture; and I offer these few stanzes vnto you, not well furnished, be­cause I know you are a fauourer of vertue.

Achilles made it not daintie to take the view of Phidias homely worke, because it was the Image of the God of Warre: and I hope your Worship will vouchsafe the viewing of this sil­ly booke, for that it describes the submissiue mind of a penitent Sinner, although it spring frō a barren soyle, being a dish of such fruite as my poore orcharde can yeeld, not vnlike to Zeuxes pi­ctures, which seemed to the birds to be grapes, but being tho­rowly proued, were bare shadowed colours, yet it may be, that you passing ouer many learned works, wil at last view this, and smile as Theodosius did at the Pomegranate, not that he scorned the fruit, but to see the simple meaning of the man that presen­ted him with so slender a gift, yet I hope by your protection this my labor shall find acceptance, according to the minde of the giuer: and to haue as many fauorers as readers, & no moe rea­ders that mislike the matter, then like to write some other as well meant, for that it proceedes from a minde as willing to shew it selfe thankefull, as whosoeuer els, that commends him­selfe by a greater present. Thus I humbly take my leaue, wi­shing you all heartes content in this life, and euerlasting happi­nesse in the World to come.

Your Worships in all duetifull seruice to commaund WILLIAM BROXVP.

To the courteous and friendly Reader.

GEntle Readers, although I present you with this tearie Mappe of S. Peters submissiue Minde, yet I craue pardon of you, as (Clinius did of Virginius) that if you finde any thing amisse, you will passe it ouer with fauourable cen­sure: desiring you to reade with fa­uour, correct with iudgement, and winke at a fault.

After I had writ these few lines, I stoode in doubt whether I should commit them to the Presse, let them lye obscurely in cor­ners, or else to remaine priuately in my owne hands, but being in doubt least any false copie should be scattered abroad, & by that meanes it should come corrupt to the Print, disguised in the fan­cies of an other mans humor: it imboldened my weake abilitie the more to giue it passage to the Presse: yet it may be, that cour­teous skill will make this reckoning, that though it bee course in respect of exquisite labours, yet it may entertaine indifferent mindes, for that the ground thereof is pietie, and this commo­ditie it will carie with it, that the Reader may learne the true path to perfect Ioy, and how to humble himselfe in the schoole of repentance.

Thus wading ouer rashly like Gherillus I flattered my selfe, yet farre from the minde of Terence, when he first beganne to studie Poetrie, he thought all the world would be in loue with his writing, but if this may winne any one to a repentant minde, hee shall receiue the fruites of his good worke, and I shall inioy the content of my full desire.

[Page] Phidios founde the more fauour in setting out his simple pictures, in that he did what he could, and I hope to find your fa­uourable iudgement for this imperfect worke in that I doe what I can. Though Cicero were eloquent, Ennius was bluntish, high stile is not herein used, but a plaine Decorum touching the mat­ter, a worke roughly hewed out of a hard rocke, not polished by the curious hands of Artifex, yet brought to the view of the lear­ned, whose cleare sighted iudgement may condemne me of bold­nesse, yet this I know, that the well literate will winke at a fault, when the captious misliker will finde fault with euery letter, for the one, I will honour his discreet fauour, for the other, I neuer meant to please his humor.

Thus I commit my selfe and my booke to your courtesies, wi­shing the friendly Readers the fruition of all felicitie, commit­ting them to the protection of the celestiall powers, and this my good will towards them, to their fauourable considerations.

Yours to commaund in all kindnesse. W. B.
In alios lenis est [...].
THE ORDER OF THE Euangelistes in laying downe the names of the twelue Apostles.
  1 Peter.
Actes 1. 2 Iames Zebedeus
  3 Iohn.
  4 Andrew.
Luke 6. 5 Philip.
  6 Thomas.
  7 Bartholomew.
Marke 3. 8 Matth.
  9 Iames Alph.
  10 Simon Zelotes.
Matth. 10. 11 Iude Iames. bro.
  12 Matthias.

THE ELECTION, LIVES and Martyrdomes of the twelue Apostles.

HEre gentle Reader wee may beholde the Saintes of God, which by great care and entire loue, did plant the principles of the Gospell, not sparing their liues to quench the heat of fire.

By viewing their Martyrdome, we may comfort our selues with this say­ing: Sanguis Martyrum, semen Ecclesiae. The blood of the Martyrs, is the seede of the Church. Christ himselfe foretold, that who­soeuer would be his Disciple, must take vp his crosse and fol­ow him: these Apostles & these Disciples haue done no lesse.

1.

PEter, Matth. 4. 18. otherwise called Simon, the sonne of Iona, of the Pro­uince of Galile, Iohn 1. 42. & of the towne of Bethsaida, the brother of Andrew, Luke 6. 14. from a fisherman Christ called him to be an Apostle, commaunding him earnestly three times to feede his sheepe: Marke 1. 16. three times Peter denied Christ: Luke 5. 10. three times Christ asked Pe­ter, if hee loued him: Marke 3. 16. and three times Peter answered, Matth. 16. 17. thou knowest Lorde, Iohn 21. 15. I loue thee. Hieron. lib. de viris illustr.

For denying of Christ, his submission was so great, that by continual kneeling in prayer to God, his knees & elbowes were growne thicke, numme, and hard like the hoofe of an Oxe, his armes with leaning on them were growne crooked, his eyes were bleard with dayly weeping, and the streames of teares which flowed from his eyes, Anton. Chro. part. 1. tit. 6. cap. 4. parag. 1. made gutters in his cheekes.

Peter the Apostle was y e first Bishop of Antioch, he continued there seuen yeeres, & seuen yeeres about Ierusalē & the Easterne regious: Actes 12. 4. verse 8. he was imprisoned by Herod Agrippa, and deliuered by an Angell: Eusebius eccle. hist. lib. 3. ca. 9. Christ came to his house & healed his wiues mo­ther of a feuer: Matth. 8. 14. he preached the Gospel of Christ in 1. Pet. 1. Pontus, Ga­latia, Cappadocia, Luke 4. 38. Bythinia, and Asia. Peter was of that cou­rage & boldnesse, Mark. 1. 31. that he walked vpon the water to go to Iesus.

Peter seeing Christ transfigured, talking with Moses and E­lias, he was so rauished with that ioyfull sight, Matth. 14. 29. that he said vnto him, This was vp­on Mount Thabor. Lord, here is good being for vs, Matth. 17. 2. if thou wilt, Let vs make here 3. Marke 9 5. tabernacles, one for thee, one for Moses, and one for Elias.

Christ did foretel Peter of his death, Luke 9. 35. saying, Iohn 21. 18. When thou wast young, thou girdedst thy selfe and walkedst whither thou woul­dest: but when thou shalt be olde, thou shalt stretch forth thy handes, and another shall gird thee, and leade thee whither thou wouldest not.

Peter was crucified at Rome, Euseb. Eccle. hist. lib. 3. ca. 1. An. Christi 70. the third Calends of Iuly, in the last yeere of Nero, with his head downewards, which kind of death he himselfe desired.

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Moritur ad terram verso capite in cruce Petrus.

2.

IAmes the sonne of Zebedeus brother to Iohn, Matth. 4. 21. was a poore fisherman, Mark. 3. 17. and being in the shippe mending of his net, Iesus came by and called him to be an Apostle.

He preached the Gospel of Christ vnto the twelue dispersed Tribes, Clem. lib. 7. hypot. he was the next Martyr after Stephen: Actes 12. 2. he was slaine by the sword in India by Herod Agrippa: Pet de natal. lib. 6. cap. 133. his corps was afterward transported into Compostella in Spaine.

3.

IOhn the Euangelist was the sonne of Zebed and brother to Iames: Mat. 4. 21. he was called from the fisher-boate to bee an Apostle of Christ: Policrates B. of Ephesus. he was of all other beloued of Iesus: he leaned on the breast of our Sauiour: Euseb. lib. 3. cap. 16. An. Dom. 97. he was banished by the Emperor Domi­tian into the Isle of Patmos, where hee wrote the Reuelation,

Ierome and Abdias saith, Ierenaeus lib. 5 Abdias. that at Rome he was throwne into a tunne of hotte burning oyle, yet he came forth and tooke no harme.

Hee conuerted a Thiefe, The wordes of Iohn the E­uangelist to the thiefe. that was Captaine of a bande of theeues, all wholy bent to slaughter, murder, and extreame cru­eltie, saying, Yet there remaineth some hope of saluation: I will vndertake for thee with Christ: I will die for thee if neede be, as Christ dyed for vs, I will hazard my soule for thine: Trust me, Christ sent me.

The Thiefe hearing this, Tokens of true repentance. stoode still, shooke off his armour, trembled for feare, repented and wept bitterly.

After the death of Domitian, Irenaeus lib. 2. cap. 39. Cle [...]n. Iohn the Euangelist returned from the Isle of Patmos, when Nerua had raigned a little a­boue a yeere: An. dom. 99. Iohn gouerned the Churches in Asia: and remai­ned at Ephesus.

Augustine calleth him a martyr by will: Ierome saith he dyed the 68 yeere after the passion of Christ. anno. Policrates Bishop of Ephesus, as Eusebius alleadgeth, sticketh not to call him a Priest, a martyr, and a doctor, but that which Augustine and Dorotheus writeth of his end, is strangest of all, and let the cre­dite thereof rest in the choise of the Reader: Dom. 101. how Iohn at E­phesus [Page] in the presence of diuers people, went aliue into his graue & there dyed, being an hundreth and twentie yeeres old.

4.

ANdrew being a poore fisherman, Mat. 4. 18. was called with his bro­ther Peter to bee an Apostle: Luk. 6. 14. hee preached the Gospell of Christ vnto the Scythians, Euseb. lib. 3. Sogdians, and Sucians, and in the middle of Sebastopilis, cap. 1. inhabited of the wilde Ethiopians: be­ing crucified by Aegeas King of Edessa the last of Nouember, Dorotheus Eccle. hist. an. Christi. and buried at Pataris a citie in Achaia.

5.

PHilip was chosen to be an Apostle of Christ, Luk. 6. 14. hee was borne in the citie of Bethsaida, Marke 3. 18. a citie in Galile: when Christ de­maunded of Philip where they might buy bread to satisfie the people that followed him, Iohn 6. 9. Philip answered him, Two hundreth pennie worth of bread is not sufficient for them, that euery one may take a little: This was said to proue him: Christ at that in­stant fedde fiue thousand men with fiue barly loaues and two fishes, Mat. 14. 19. and when the people were satisfied, the disciples filled twelue baskets with that which remained: Actes. 8. 9. Philip preached the Gospell of Christ in Phrygia, Anton. chron. tit. 6. cap 11. pet. de natal. de sanctis. lib. 4. cap. 107. he went to a citie in Samaria, and there conuerted Simon Magus the sorcerer, who had a long time seduced the same citie with his sorcerie & witchcraft. The Painims crucified Philip at Hierapotalis.

6.

THomas otherwise called Didymus, Iohn 20. verse 24, 25, 26, 27, 28. was one of the twelue Apostles of Christ: hee doubting of the resurrection of Christ, saide vnto his fellowes which tolde him that they had seene the Lord, Thomas said, Except I see in his hands the print of the nayles, and put my handes into his side, I will not beleeue. After eight dayes, Thomas being with the disciples, Iesus came againe, and stood in the middest of them saying, Peace be vn­to [Page] to you, Agbasus wrot an Epistle vnto Christ, ackno­ledging him to be the soone of God. & said to Thomas: Put thy finger here & see my hands, and thrust forth thy hand, put it into my side, and be not faith­lesse, but faithfull. Then Thomas did conceiue a full faith that it was the Lorde, and saide, Thou art my Lord my God: which confession Iesus did well accept.

Thomas sent Thaddaeus vnto Agbarus king of Edessa, Christ writ to Agbarus a­gaine. to preach the Gospell of Christ, and to cure Agbarus of his mala­die: Thomas the Apostle preached the Gospell of Christ, Euseb. lib. 1. cap. 15. vnto the Persians, Medes, Caramaines, Hircaines, Bastraines, and Magitians: Anton. chron. he was slaine at the heathen Kings commaunde­ment, with a dart in India, Abdias Apost, hist. lib. 9. and was buried at Calimina.

7.

BArtholomew was chosen to bee an Apostle of Christ, Luk 6. 14. hee preached to the Indians, Mark. 3. 18. and deliuered vnto them the Gos­pell of Matthew in their owne language: Mat. 10. 3. he suffered martyr­dome at the commaundement of Polemius king of India, Dorotheus. Abdias B. of Babilon. the first day of his martyrdome he was beaten with cudgels, the se­cond day crucified and flayne aliue, pet. de natal. lib. 7. cap. 103. his skin puld ouer his eares, as he was fastened to the crosse: Anton chron. tit. 6. cap. 12. Last of all, while breath remai­ned in him, he was beheaded.

8.

MAtthew the Euangelist was chosen to be an Apostle of Christ, Mark. 3. 18. he wrote the Gospell of our Lord Iesus in the He­brew tongue, Abdias. hist. as­post. lib. 7. and deliuered it to Iames the sonne of Alpheus: he preached the Gospell in Aethiopia: he was by the comman­dement of Hyrtacus runne through with a sworde.

9.

IAmes the sonne of Alpheus & Marie, Euseb. Eccle. hist. lib. 2. cap. 22. sister to Marie the Lords mother, called the brother of Christ, was the first Bi­shop of Ierusalem, Clemen. lib. 6. he liued vertuously, he vsed no woollen ve­sture, but wore a Syndon, Aegesippi. s li. 5. his knees were after the guise of a ca­mels [Page] knee, Ioseph. Antiq. benumd and bereft of the sence of feeling by rea­son of his continuall kneeling in supplication to God: lib. 20 cap. 16. he con­tinued Bishop thirtie yeeres, Abd hist. apo. and was martyred by the Iewes, but especially by Ananias the high Priest, Dorotheus. who set him vpon a pinackle of the Temple to preach to the people, Anton. chron. part. 1. tit. 6. cap. 8. anno Dō. 6. & threw him downe headlong: he hauing breath after his fall, one came with a Fullers club, knockt him on the head, and brained him.

10.

SImon the Cananite sonne to Cleopas, Luk. 6. 15. surnamed Zelotes the Lordes cousin germaine, Aegesippus writeth that Cleopas was brother to Ioseph. hee was chosen to bee one of the twelue Apostles of Christ, he preached the Gospel throughout Mauritania, Aphricke, Aegypt, and Persia: he returned thence and succeeded Iames in the Bishopricke of Ierusalem: the he­retickes accused him that he lineally descended of the stocke of Dauid, Simon was the second B. of Ierusalem. and that he was a Christian, which profession they ha­ted: he was scourged for the space of many dayes together, so that Aticus the Iudge and his company was marueilously ama­sed, and marueiled, He was cruci­fied anno. dō. 110. how that he being an hundred and twentie yeeres old, Euseb. lib. 3. cap. 11. 29. was able to abide that bitter torment, in the end, he dyed a death agreeable with the passion of Christ.

11.

IƲde the brother of Iames called also Thaddeus, Luk. 6. 16. was called to be an Apostle: Mark. 3. 18. he preached vnto the Edessians, & through all Mesopotamia: Dorotheus Eccle. hist. he was slaine at Berito in the time of Agba­rus king of Edessa.

12.

MAtthias one of the seuentie Disciples, Acts. 1. 26. was chosen to be an Apostle in the roome of Iudas the traytor: hee prea­ched the Gospell first in Macedonia, Pet. de natal. then in Aethiopia, about the hauen called Hissus, lib. 3. cap. 149. and the riuer Phasis, afterward he went into India, Anton. chron. where the Iewes stoned him, and last of all he was beheaded with an axe after the Romaine manner. tit. 6. cap. 15.

Thus endeth the commemoration of the liues and deaths of the twelue Apostles.

HERE FOLLOWETH the Election, Liues and Mar­tyrdoms of S. Paul, Marke the Euangelist, and Stephen one of the seuen Deacons.

PAVL, Act. 7. 58. which before was called Saule, Act. 8. 3. was an Apostle of Christ, yet out of the number of the twelue, Euseb. lib. 2. cap. 1. was borne in Iurie, Ex Hieron. lib. de viris illust. in a towne called Gas­calis, which towne beeing taken by the Romanes, he with his parents fled to Tharsus a towne in Cilicia, after­wards hee was sent vp to Ierusalem, and there brought vp in the know­ledge of the Law: Euseb. lib. 2. cap. 1. at that time when Stephen suffered martyr­dome: Paul was a persecutour, Act. 9. 4. in raging against the Church of God, Anno Chr. 35. entring into the houses of the faithfull, and gaue forth precepts that both men and women should be imprisoned: he was conuerted to beleeue in Christ, by a voice that spake to him from heauen, as he went towards Damascus, and from a perse­cutour he was made a professor, an Apostle, a martyr, a witnes of the Gospel, and a chosen vessell, not of men, neither by men, but by reuelation from Iesus Christ: among other his manifold labours and trauelles in spreading the doctrine of Christ, hee wanne Sergius Paulus the Proconsul of Ciprus to the faith of Christ, whereupon his name was turned from Saul to Paul: he began to preach the Gospell of Christ at Ierusalem, Euseb. lib. 3. cap. 27. and went on still to Ilyricum, Italie and Spaine, his Epistles are extant at this day, full of heauenly wisedome, hee was accused before the Emperour Nero, Abdias de vi­ris lib. 2. for teaching a new doctrine and stirring vp sedition against the Empire, whereupon Nero commanded him to declare the order of his doctrine: which was to teach all [Page] men peace and charitie, how to loue one another; that rich men should not bee puft vp in pride, The summe of Paules doctrine. nor to put their trust in their treasure, but in the liuing God; meane men to be content with food and raiment, and with their present state; poore men to re­ioyce in their pouertie with hope; fathers to bring vp their chil­dren in the feare of God; children to obay their parents; hus­bands to loue their wiues; wiues to loue their husbands; citizens and subiectes to be true to their Prince. This was the summe of Paules teaching, which hee receiued from Iesus Christ, which spake to him from heauen. When Nero had heard this, he gaue sentence of death, that Paul should bee beheaded, vnto whose executiō Nero sent two of his Esquires, Paul condem­ned. Feraga & Parthemius, to bring him word of Paules death: Euseb. lib 2. he was beheaded at Rome, the last yeere of Nero, cap. 2. lib. 1. the third calends of Iuly, and was buried in the way to Ostia, cap. 1. anno in the thirtie sixt yeere after his conuersion, thirtie seuen yeeres after the Passion of Christ. Christi. 70.

MArke the Euangelist was the first Bishop of Alexandria, Dorotheus Eccle hist. he was the first that preached Christ vnto the Egyptians: in the time of Traian hee had a cable rope tyed about his necke, and drawne through the streetes of Alexandria, Euseb. lib 2. that his flesh was rent in pieces, cap. 16. cap. 25. and the stones coloured with blood, he was drawne from Blocus to a place called Angels, Dorotheus. where hee was burned to ashes by the furious Idolaters, in the moneth of April, and buried at Blocus.

STephen was chosen to bee one of the seuen Deacons, Actes 6. 5. by prayer and laying on of the Apostles hands, Euseb. lib. 2. for the publike administration of the Church affaires, cap. 1. hee was stoned to death at Ierusalem by them that slew the Lorde, Actes 7. 59. he was the first of the triumphing Martyrs of Christ, Actes 8. 2. and as they stoned him, he said: Lord Iesu receiue my spirit: Luke 13. 34. and kneeling downe, he cryed with a lowde voyce: Stephen signi­fieth a crowne Lord lay not this sinne vnto their charge: and so fell asleepe in the Lord.

This is to beare the crosse of our Sauiour, Matth. 10. 38. 39. this is to drinke of one cuppe with Christ: Christ saith, He that taketh not vp his [Page] crosse and followeth after me, Matth. 16. 24, 25. is not worthie of me, hee that will saue his life, shall loose it, and he that looseth his life for my sake, shall saue it. Psalm. 34. 19. Great are the troubles of the righteous, but the Lord deliuereth him out of them all. Through many tribulati­ons wee haue to enter into the king dome of heauen: Matth. 10. 22. but hee that endureth to the ende, he shall be saued.

Infinite are the number of the Saints of God that haue suffe­red for the testimonie of Christ, as Hierome in his Epistle to Chromatius and Heliodorus, saith: Nullus esset dies quinon vl­tra quin (que) millium numerum martyrum reperiri posset ascriptus excepto die kalendarum Ianuarij. The number of Martyrs in the primitiue Church. There is no day in the whole yeere vnto which the number of fiue thousand Martyrs cannot be ascribed, except onely the first day of Ianuarie.

THus gentle Reader, not meaning to be offensiue with long cir­cumstances, I haue briefely described the liues and martyr­domes of the twelue Apostles, amongst which I haue writ of S. Peter more at large then any of the rest: and if you deigne fa­uourably to reade this small ensuing Poeme to the ende: you shall encourage mee hereafter to present you with some other worke that may be more pleasing to your kinde view. Thus I commit thee courteous Rea­der to the reading of that which followeth.

The Argument.

DID Peter wash his silly soule with teares,
vnfainedly with true repentance weeping,
And yet t'was long, ere ioy bereau'd his cares,
Twixt ioyfull hope, and sad despaire infleeting:
How can we then, the loathed lumpe of sinne,
VVithout repentance, Ioyes celestiall winne?
For euery teare that trickled downe his cheekes,
From the moyst springs of his dimme bleared eies,
Ten thousand sinnes our sinfull closet keepes,
VVhile hardened hearts, not one Peccaui cries:
His teares were infinite, and past recount,
Our teares are nothing, yet our sinnes surmount.
Did Peter sinne, and did he then repent,
Did Peter sinne, and did he after weepe?
Did Peter sinne, and for his sinne lament?
Did Peter sinne, and was his sorrow deepe?
Oh, did he shedde whole flouds of teares for sinne?
Before he could his Masters fauour winne.
How dare we then presuming hope for grace?
How may we hope, more sinfull farre then he?
How can we hope for heauen Christes resting place?
VVhere none but Saints and holy Angels be?
Except with blessed Peter we repent,
And for our sinnes with earnest teares lament.

Vbi abundauit peccatum, Superabundauit & gratia.

FINIS.

SAINT PETERS PATH to the Ioyes of Heauen.

Luke 22. 62. ‘Peter went out and wept bitterly.’
RISE Sinfull man, looke on the heauenly light,
Bee not by Sathan, to Hels Bondage brought:
Let not despairing thoughts thy soule affright:
To stroy the Treasure, Christ so deerely bought:
Say not with Cain, the Lorde cannot forgiue:
His oyle of grace will thy sicke soule relieue.
His life preseruing-mercy passeth all
The glorious workes, that euer he did make:
For whosoeuer faithfully doth call
On his great Name, he neuer doth forsake,
Though skarlet sinnes thy soule doe ouergrow,
Yet his sweet blood wil wash them white as snow.
Cast not thy lookes against the sullen ground,
But looke on Christ, fast nayled to the Crosse,
His death of life, did death and hell confound,
And therewithal, redeem'd thy greatest losse:
Adam wreckt our soules, Christ was soules life be­ginner,
His blood sau'd thee; & me the vildest sinner.
If thy lewd heart all wicked sinnes had wrought,
Or that the worlds whole sinnes in thee did lie:
Yet our great GOD, that made all things of nought,
Can banish them, with one winke of his eie:
He can, and will, if thou in him doe trust,
And make thy soule copartner with the Iust.
But if thou aske my Name, that is so bold,
Firmely to vrge, Heauens mercie thus to thee,
And Christs compassion to thy heart vnfold:
Let thy sicke soule giue healthfull eare to mee,
Of Christ's Apostles, I was counted one,
But sinful'st wretch, that euer men look't on.
To 'this worldes sight, was neuer man more hatefull,
Or that committed greater sinne, then I,
Nor for Gods blessings, could be more vngratefull,
Who did my heauenly Master, flat denie,
Falsely swearing, I did neuer know him,
When diuers folks, to my dull sight did show him.
Then which fowle fact, what could be greater sinne?
More wickednesse, did neuer man commit:
Yet true repentance did new life beginne:
Christ did forgiue, and all my sinnes forget:
Repent therefore, and faithfully beleeue:
Then God in mercy, will thy sinnes forgiue.
I will declare my fowle offences storie,
To giue true comfort to despairing soules:
But most of all, to manifest Gods glorie,
Whose glorious greatnesse, Angels still extols:
Then beare in minde, his all sufficient might,
And in thy heart, engraue what I recite.
In launcing out the scumme of my fowle crimes,
Whose vlcer smell impoysoneth cleerest sence,
Compare therewith thy faults, of former times
Then note the scope, twixt thine, and mine offence:
Flie fast to Christ, and imitate my teares,
If sight thereof, affright thy soule with feares.
Teares shed in time, doth winne a blissefull hower,
For they perfume the soule with lustre ioy,
The more in plentie, greater is their power
Combind in blisse, from Sathans fowle annoy:
Then let thy teares, for sinne in streames arise,
Till death damme vp the welsprings of thy eyes.
Such pearled deaw, allureth God to grace,
Stil'd in the lymbecke of submissiue mindes,
With heat of contrite heart, which brings in place,
The liquid iuice, that fowlest parts refines:
My suite lay dead, and was defer'd by sinne,
Til teares, (true Oratours) did my verdict winne.
Confession first, makes way to mercies seat:
Next true Repentance, mooues the Iudge to pittie:
Condemne thy selfe for thy offences great,
So on thy faultes, accusers cannot iettie:
Christ is thy Iudge, thy Sauiour meeke and kinde,
Then haue no doubt, for mercie thou shalt finde.
Impious wretch, vile obiect of disgrace,
The mappe of shame, the excrement of earth,
A wretched impe, the spring of Iones race,
In faire Bethsaida Citie first tooke breath,
There tooke I life, that true lifes Lord denide,
The mynt of lies, that trueth it selfe defide.
At mans estate a Fisher I became,
That with hard toile maintained my simple charge,
With my poore brother, Andrew cald by name,
Plunged among the mounting waues at large,
Where we with labour, moyld, and wearied sore,
For succour sayld to Galilean shore.
What time behold, on pleasant bancke did stand,
Our sweet Messias, Sauiour of mankind,
Whose heauenly voyce did call vs both to land,
Vnworthy men, did such great fauour find:
Come follow me, (the Prince of peace did say,)
Fishers of men, I'le make you both this day.
Thus from a base, and seruile kind of life,
Vnto a sacred Function were we cald,
Exempt from former sorrow, care and strife,
Whereto, before, our heauie heartes were thrald,
And in this holy seruice did we see
The power of God, and his great Maiestie.
Attending on our Master most diuine,
Vnto a blessed Marriage, was he bidden,
There turnd he water into holesome wine,
Shewing his Godhead, which before lay hidden:
A foule infected Leaper did he heale,
Who to the Priestes the same did soone reueale,
The Captaines seruant, that lay sicke in bed,
And with the shaking palsie sore was grieu'd,
So soone as Christ, the blessed word had said,
His trembling ioints with helth were straight relieu'd:
From men possest he threw fierce diuels away,
And with his word rebukt the raging sea.
He did restore the blind vnto their sight:
Lame crippled persons, he did make to goe:
The dumbe to speake, and by his powerfull might
The dead he rais'd, that long lay stinking so:
And with fiue loaues of bread, he did suffice
Fiue thousand men, before my sinfull eyes.
Could I so kind and louing Lord forget?
That in my wants, my neede supplied euer,
Carefull he was, in paying my due debt,
My wiues sicke mother, heal'd he of a feuer,
When I lackt coyne, great Caesars right to pay,
A fish he forc't, to bring me some straightway.
To grace me with a blest Apostles right,
Three times he charg'd me for to feed his sheepe,
But I false wretch did disobey him quight,
His flocke from harme, I had no care to keepe:
Oh, how could I, to them a Pastor be?
When I my selfe, did stray so grieuouslie.
Yet was his gracious fauour such to me,
He tooke me vp, into the mountaine hie,
His Transfiguration for to see,
Which then appear'd, in mightie Maiestie,
Where Moses, and Elias both did walke,
And with out blessed Sauiour fell in talke.
Bright as the Sunne, in chiefest of his pride,
So did the glory of his face appeare,
His seamelesse garments shin'de on euery side,
Like to the light, when it is found most cleare:
All this and more did I behold and see,
Yet fearelesse fell to foule iniquitie.
Who would against this blessed God offend?
Who durst a Iudge, so mightie, quite denie?
Who would not feare, and learne his life to mend?
Sith such a Lord, his secrets can discrie:
Who would not mon'th, day, minute, time, and hower,
Yea alwayes dread his Iustice, might and power.
Yet I transgrest against this Prince of might,
Whose Maiestie sits in a glorious Throne,
His eyes like fire, shining pure and bright,
His face more cleere, then any precious stone:
Angels and Saints attend in his presence,
Thrones, Prophets, Powers, Martyrs, Innocents.
Sweete Lorde, with fauour measure my offence,
Let true repentance counteruaile thine ire,
Let teares appease, where trespasse doth incense,
Let pitie moue: let humble hope desire:
Lord scourge me not, according to desart,
Let sinners see how mercifull thou art.
The holy feast of Easter drawing nie,
Vnto Ierusalem would my Sauiour goe,
Shewing to vs, what death he was to die,
As holy Prophets often did foreshow,
That he thereby, might saue from death and hell,
The soule of man, which by transgression fell.
Thus Adams trespasse brought a scourging rod,
His poore successors to torment for sinne,
Which pluckt from pleasure, th' Image of our God,
See what destruction Adam did beginne?
His fall brought sinne, and sinne did death require,
Sinne drown'd the world, and Sodom set on fire.
Ah wretched Eue, that first procur'd this strife,
By tasting of the Tree, both good and ill,
Which brought to vs a wofull labouring life,
With sweating face, the barren earth to till:
For which offence, the holy Godhead said,
Returne to earth, whereof thou first wast made.
For this foule fact, mans soule was damn'd to hell,
And nothing could appease Gods wrathfull ire,
But his Sonnes blood, whom he belou'd so well,
Who for our sakes did shamefull death desire:
We did transgresse, and he did suffer smart,
But then this knowledge was not in my heart.
Wherefore when I did vnderstand and heare,
That Christ to faire Ierusalem would goe,
The Scribes and Elders I did greatly feare,
Which sutly sought, his life to ouerthrow:
Then did I take my Lord aside, and say,
Looke to thy selfe, Lord shun this bainfull way.
But my rash zeale, full sore my God offended,
Who cald me Sathan, laying to my charge,
I fauour'd not his holy will intended,
But like a flatrer, slipt my wordes at large:
False fainting zeale, shadow'd with good pretence,
No vayle can hide the shame of my offence.
Now marke the sorrow that I shall vnfold,
When he to faire Ierusalem was come,
The traytor Iudas, his good Master sold,
For thirtie pence, God wot, a slender summe:
Which damned deed, although he sought to hide
Christ knew ful well, by whom all hearts are tride.
Then when he had his blessed Supperended,
Vp to mount Oliuet did he sadly goe,
And we vpon our heauenly Master tended,
In whose sad soule deaths sorrow then did grow:
Who said to vs, when he the hill ascended,
All you this night, through me shall be offended.
For it is written, and it shall be so:
I'le smite the Shepheard on the fertile plaine,
Then all his flocke shall scatter to and fro:
But when from vanquisht death I rise againe,
By mighty power and heauenly deitie,
I'le walke before you into Galile.
But hereupon, this answere I did make,
And freely spoke, what I in heart intended,
My Lord and Master will I not forsake,
Though all the world, with thee should be offended:
But Iesus said, Before the cocke crow twice,
This night, (for feare,) thou wilt deny me thrice.
Vpon these wordes, I did my speeches double,
And told my Lord, what euer came of me,
I would not shrinke, for any worldly trouble,
Respecting not, inforc't calamitie,
In all disgraces, Peter first will die
A lingring death, ere he his Lord denie.
Then went my Lord himselfe alone to pray
With heauy heart, and layd him on the earth,
Who said to vs, VVatch you a while and stay,
For my sed Soule is heauie to the death.
But while he sweat cold water mixt with blood,
We carelesse, slept, and did no other good.
Three times came Christ, and found vs fast asleepe,
While he attended Iudas spitefull howre,
To thinke thereon, it makes my heart to weepe,
Christ tasting then, a bitter bleeding showre:
Thus lay we carelesse, while his care increast,
We slept, and he in praying neuer ceast.
What drowsie drones were we? that had no power,
On Gethseman, to watch a little space,
Ah, could not we, forbeare one sleeping hower?
While Christ lay praying, with a watrie face:
Whose Agony that time, was found so great,
That he all ouer bath'd in bloody sweat.
Then came our Sauiour vnto vs, and said:
Sleepe now henceforth, and euer take your rest,
The hower is at hand, the plot is laid,
That wretched sinners must haue their request:
Arise, arise, so drowsie doe not stand,
I shall be tooke, the traytour is at hand.
Our Sauiour had these wordes no sooner spoken,
But Iudas came, with others very strong,
The Traytour gaue a kisse, which was the token
Betraid my Lord: so tooke they him along:
O Sinne of sinnes, what falsehood worse then this?
To harbour Treason in a trothlesse kisse.
My Sauiour thus abus'de, I banisht feare,
At this lewd troope, I straight drew out my sword,
And smiting Malcus, I cut off his eare,
For which my Christ gaue me a checking word:
Then leading him away, on my reproofe,
With lingring steps I follow'd him aloofe.
Oh Coward, here thy hollow heart beginnes,
I follow'd in the darke, as all vnknowne,
Which doth encrease my great and grieuous sinnes,
In Calender of shame, my name is showne:
I that erewhile such mightie brags did make,
With pale-fac't feare did now begin to shake.
False hearted man, and full of wicked ill,
Into the court of Caiphas did I goe,
And warm'd me there, while cold my heart did kill:
Coldnesse of faith, the roote of all my woe:
O wretch of all men, well deseruing hate,
For buying fire, at such a damned rate.
There came to me a Wench, and thus she said:
Thou sure art one of this Mans company,
For by thy countnance is the same bewraid:
But what she said, I stiffely did denie:
O sinfull soule for this thy lacke of grace,
Weepe, weepe, till teares make gutters in thy face.
With that the quicke rebuker of my vice,
The wakefull cocke did then begin to crow,
Yet ere he crew, I did denie him thrice,
And swore I knew him not, whom I did know:
O sinne of sinnes! O excrement of earth!
Forgiue me Christ, though my desart be death.
Then Christ on me did cast a glorious view,
Like to a Star that glanced in the skie,
Whereby behold, my foule offence I knew,
That my hearts thoughts were open to his eie:
And thereupon the Cocke againe did crow,
The heauie watch-word of my ouerthrow.
But when I saw his piercing eyes looke backe,
As I pronounst my periurie within,
O how my soule did feele a sudden wracke,
Thus strooke against the damned rocke of sinne:
Which made me straight to get me out of doore,
And on the thirstie earth my teares to powre.
And with a wofull bitter bleeding hart,
Thus I began to thunder out my crie:
Lord looke not on me, after my desart,
I haue deseru'd, eternall death to die:
Though I on earth haue here denyed thee,
Yet of thy Kingdome, Lord, deny not me.
Celestiall power, Creations sole beginner,
View here thy poore Apostles relenting,
Meekely forgiue, a true repentant sinner,
That with salt teares is euermore repenting:
But who? a wretch, vnworthy to be knowne,
A Saint? O no, not Gods, nor yet his owne.
All weeping eyes, resigne to me your teares.
From weeping will I neuer cease, but weepe,
For why? my sinnes haue fil'd my soule with feares,
And flouds of sorrowes breakes my soundest sleepe:
The more distils the liquid Oliue tree,
The better will the fruite in season be.
And that makes me, lament my life so ill,
With streaming teares, so long as I haue breath,
Least sinne and hell my spotted soule should spill,
Which dayly threatens my eternall death:
Though death eternall be my due desart,
Yet Lord forgiue my sad repenting heart.
Accusing Sathan, fils my soule with feares,
Demaunding, how I dare for mercie call?
A reeking voyce, from hell rings in my eares,
That I of force, must to perdition fall:
Whose foggy stem doth seeke my soule to blind,
That the true way to Christ I might not find.
Damn'd wretch (say they) how canst thou hope for grace?
Christs sacred word is precious and most pure,
Asham'd thou wast to know thy Masters face,
Therefore asham'd of thee, he will be sure:
For feare of death, thy life for to prolong,
Thou slew'st thy soule, by rashnesse of thy tongue.
Christ in a parable plaine, bewrayes this case,
He damn'd the slothfull seruant found asleepe:
And he that to the wedding forced was:
The foolish Virgins, wanting care to keepe
Their lampes with oyle, when they with him should go.
Were for this trespasse throw'n to lasting woe.
See how seuerely Christ, doth sinners vse,
He spar'd not Saul, although his true annoynted,
But cast him off, and did him quite refuse
For sparing Agag, otherwise appoynted:
If Christ spar'd not chiefe branches of his tree,
Then sinfull soule, what shall become of thee?
Then bootles spend not thou thy loathed breath,
In vaine thou dost for grace and mercie crie,
Thou hast with Iudas won a traytors death,
He sold his Lord, and thou dost him denie:
O wretched soule, nay most accursed deuill,
For none but fiends would doe so bad an euill.
Thou maske of shame: badge of a guiltie mind:
Thou mappe of sinne: thou common foe of fame:
Out-cast on earth: thou whelpe of Tygres kind:
God from his booke, hath▪ blotted out thy name:
At thy complaint, the Lord doth stop his eares,
He nought respects thy grones or bitter teares.
Curse wretched man, the time that thou wast borne,
On thy birth day, soule sinne imbraste thee fast;
To vanquish thee, and make thee thus forlorne:
Thereby from grace to haue thee quite out cast.
What then, a saint, no no, a beast, nay worse,
Abiuring Christ, thou hast a lasting curse.
False fainting heart which feare did ouerthrow,
To saue thy life, thou didst thy promise breake:
How canst thou thinke, that Christ will mercie shew,
When as thy faith was found to him so weake?
To adde small time, vnto a fleeting life,
Thy soule is fild with sorrow, woe and strife.
O purchase base, to length thy life by sinne,
Infamous wretch, deseruing death for meede,
Wouldst thou permita womans words to winne
Thy loue from Christ, euen in his greatest neede,
What fauour canst thou finde that Christ deluded
Angels for sinne, from Heauen were excluded.
Wherefore was such a caytife namde a Saint,
Whose speeches vowed spit and bitter gall,
That in Christs quarrell cowardly did faint:
Could an Apostle catch so fowle a fall?
Blacke fiends of hell hereat doe laugh and smile,
That they did Peter in such sorte beguile.
Dispaire and dye, rip thy foule intrals out,
To search thy conscience make no long delay,
T'is foule and guiltie therefore out of doubt:
T'will witnes be against thee at that day.
Both clarke and Iudge, and iurie will it bee,
For to condemne, but not to set thee free.
Thus sinne and Sathan did my soule accuse,
Setting the filth of sinne before my eyes,
My heart with terror did he sore abuse:
Who saide that Christ my praiers would despise:
But yet defying him, though flesh were fraile,
Through grace I gan my faults thus to be waile.
Most mightie Lord, sicke is my soule within,
To thinke that I against my God offended:
Sweete Christ forgiue the greatnes of my sin,
Saue me Lord Iesu, else I am condemned.
Rent hart, weep eyes, & pleade thou wicked tougue,
Pleade thou for mercy, that did Christ such wrong.
O holy spirit that seest my restles teares,
Reade ioyfull lessons to my painting hart:
For Sathan speakes of nought, but rufull feares,
And griefe conceales my soules incessant smart.
My guiltie eyes, that still pursues my sin,
Each moment doth my griefe afresh begin.
Looke on the thoughts of a perplexed mind,
Their irksome dayes, that leades a loathsome life,
There is no ioy, or comforts I can find,
Such vaine illusions keeps me still in strife:
O brittle life! that vadeth like a flower,
Vnstable mind! oft changed in an hower.
This world allur'd me with deceiuing howers,
Liuing I find a Lab'rinth voyd of measure,
A groue of griefe, a field of blasted flowers,
A stony ground, where growes no sparke of pleasure:
A witching phrenzie, pleasant to the eares,
A dreadfulll den, a surging riuer of teares.
O splendent Christ! which suffred for my sin,
Celestiall Substance! let me tast thy sweet,
That my poore soule may be refresht within,
Which this false world doth clog with cares vnmeet,
The holy Ghost to my poore spirit applie,
That on thy mercy I may still relie.
Behold my eyes, with dayly weeping teares
Are blear'd and parcht, for my offences done,
Thy grace I craue, my heart thy Iustice feares,
With trembling ioynts, my soules distresse begonne:
Sinne causeth griefe, for sorrow is their share,
That in the shop of shame trades periur'd ware.
Sinnes farme I rented, with hard intrest bought,
The rent my soule, yet all my gayne was griefe,
Deere was that purchase, which my downfal wrought
In Caiphas court, I lost my soules reliefe:
O wretched men! that buyes the curse of hell,
With wrecke of soules, the wares that diuels sell.
Lord let thy mercy be the onely key,
To ope the doore of my afflicted hart,
Where my accounts in secret hidden lye,
Griping my conscience with extremest smart:
And thereby let thy holy spirit in,
Which is of force to dispossesse my sin.
Lord seeke the sheepe, that long hath gone astray:
The prodigall to thee his mone hath made,
I haue procur'd and wrought my owne decay,
And of damnation am I sore afraid:
If thou wilt helpe, O sweet Christ! helpe me now,
And make not Peter breake, although he bow.
O write my teares within the booke of life!
The register of thine elected fold,
Where mercie and compassion shineth rife,
There Lord, let Peters name be sure intold:
Protect me Lord, and free me from all feares,
Whose soule is drencht within a showre of teares.
With mildenes measure, my submissiue minde,
Meekely forgiue, I craue with contrite hart
Let thy poore seruant, thy free mercie finde,
With sighs I beg, release of earned smart.
Bent knees, thicke sobs, wet eyes, sad hart begin,
Pleade clients pleade, Gods mercie sweete to win.
Sinfull Disciple, fall flat on thy face,
And warme the thirstie earth with flowing teares:
Yea, rise not vp, till thou hast purchaste grace
Ring rufull sobs, repentant in his eares.
A true and contrite heauie soule for sin,
The Lord regardes, and most doth ioy therein.
Redeeme me then with ransome of thy loue,
Release my bondage from sinnes captiue gaile:
Let Peters true repentance pittie moue,
And let thy mercie be my soules sure baile.
Tender my sui [...]e, cancell offences great,
With feare I craue, with hope I doe intreat.
O that I had not borne so base a minde,
As to deny my Christ, that did me make:
But that I had, with constant Steuen been kinde
To haue been stoned for my masters sake.
Then had I neuer knowne this hellish smart,
That wounds my conscience, and doth kil my hart,
What did produce me to this cursed crime?
How came I so securelie rockt asleepe:
The monster sinne, my wings of faith did lime,
I could not flie that hellish danger deepe.
Blasphemous hart, benumd with deadly colde,
Thou didst my tongue, to periuries vnfolde.
Ah woe is me, I am that cursed Caine,
That murdered Abel, I may iustlie say,
His precious blood doth issue out amaine,
And t'was my sinnes, that did my Sauiour slay:
Had I so many eyes, as Starres in skie,
For this offence, well might I weepe them drie.
I doe bewaile my foule committed sin
Gainst Christ, redeemer of my soule from hell,
Sweete Sauiour, let my soule thy mercie win,
That I among the damned may not dwell:
For I confesse without thy mercies store,
I shall be damnd in hell for euermore.
Ah seruile feare, that maskes a drooping minde,
Subiect to sinne, base captiue vnto thrall:
Couldst thou permit a sillie woman kinde,
To be contriuer of thy shamefull fall.
Were now the Cocke to crow as thrice he crue,
No woman (though I dyde) should me subdue.
O hastie rashnes, where true faith was fled,
Vnsauorie tree, where fruits of sin do grow
For want of faith, let floods of teares be shed,
Baptize anew, thy soule in streames of woe:
Too long they liue, that liue till they be nought,
How cheape sold I, what Christ so deerly bought.
Come idle eyes, t'is long time since ye wept,
Straine out my sorrows, fruits of my vntruth,
That springing streams of teares may still be kept,
To blaze with plaints the Ecchoes of my ruth:
Vnkind in kindnes, where faint feare tooke place,
To spit thy poyson in thy makers face.
O wretched Peter, far worse then the Iewes,
That hist at Christ, like poysoned stinging snakes,
Whose scornfull mocks, his patience did abuse,
Who notwithstanding dyed for their sakes:
My oaths were darts, my cruell tongue the sting,
My God the marke, and him I did maligne.
With sin, O Lord, my soule is sore attainted,
My mind, my thoughts, my hart is clog'd with griefe,
Heart throbbing feare, and treason hath me haunted,
All these are ruines of my soules reliefe:
Inconstancy, foule fraud, and false selfe will,
These gaue attendance, my poore soule to kill.
Dispaire not Peter, doo not thy God forget,
To call for mercy doo thy best indeuour,
Neuer did he refuse a sinner yet:
Nor crau'd his death, but wisht him life for euer.
All burdned soules come vnto me saith he,
And of your griefe you shall released be.
Therefore I thinke my selfe thrice happie blest,
For that I hope I shall beholde his blisse,
Although this flesh be fraile, full of vnrest,
Against the spirit, working much amisse:
Yet Christ his mercie floweth like a spring,
While his woundes bleede, receiued for my sinne.
I did offend thee Lord with periurde speech,
Which wicked deed I doe from heart repent:
Therefore sweete Lord I humbly doe beseech,
To saue his soule that doth for sinne lament:
For I beleeue, and for a truth I know,
My scarlet sinnes thou canst conuert to snow.
Lord clense me then, thy blessing on me spread,
With many foes my soule is hard beset:
Be thou my strength and helmet for my head;
And with thy treasure pay my seruile debt,
As teares of vines foule leprosie doth cure,
So vlcer sinnes, is by thy blood made pure.
Why then my soule, wherefore art thou so sad,
And why art thou disquieted within?
Plucke vp thy selfe, be ioyfull and most glad,
Christ by his passion washt away my sinne:
Though of all men the worst to be esteemed,
Yet by my Sauiour is my soule redeemed.
Then Peter breake from that vilde tirant strong,
Shake off his chaines, and burst his hellish bands:
Sinne hath thee kept in seruitude too long,
And run to Iesus where he meekely stands,
Spread on the Crosse wide open with his armes,
Thee to imbrace, & keepe thee from all harmes.
Lo thus with faith and hope still did I pray:
Christ heard my suite, and all my sinnes forgaue,
Poore sinners suites no time he doth delay;
He came from Heauen, repenting soules to saue.
None can on earth a greater sinner be,
Then I was found, and yet he saued me.
The wicked Iewes that halde him to the Crosse
With many taunting tearmes, and hatefull scornes,
He greatly grieude their soules eternall losse,
While they did crowne his holy head with thornes.
They whipt his body, bor'd his hands and feete,
Yea pearst his side, and did reioyce to see'r.
But this Beathlemite, deare sonne of God,
Which by his wisedome could haue staide this strife,
Yet rather chose, to feele Gods heauie rod,
Then we should lose the ioyes of blessed life:
For rather then we should hels torment trie,
He spared not to yeelde himselfe to die.
Yet cursed Scribes did take no pittie when
The bloody streames from his goard sides did sinke,
The Souldiers Speare was the registring pen,
His precious blood was made the staining inke,
Whereby he did Heauens blisse to vs reueale,
And Consummatum est was his true seale.
Why should I cease, posterities to tell,
That Christ alone did worke our exaltation,
He raisde vs vp, that by transgression fell,
And suffered death with great humiliation,
To plucke vs from the plunging pit of sin,
Or else we had in darkenes euer bin.
Stricken he was, and thereby were we healed,
And by his death, he brought vs lasting life,
In his faire hands our foule offence was sealed,
That so we might be freede from Sathans strife.
Our hatefull sinnes, these bitter torments vrged,
But by his blood, our sinnes had ne'r been purged.
Take heede, detest, abhorre, flie sinne amaine,
Which brought our Lord to his most dolefull death:
And sith his wounds are now made whole againe,
Doe not renew them by sin-poysning breath:
O doe not mocke and offer him a teede;
Rub not his woundes afresh to make them bleede.
Now he is crowned with eternall glorie,
And high installed in a heauenly Throne,
Plucke him not downe, but for thy sinne be sorie,
Least like the Iewes thou sealest him in stone:
He doth more grieue at one poore sinners losse,
Then all the panges he suffered on the crosse.
The pricking Thornes that gorde his holy head,
Was sure our sinnes; the nailes our sinnes also,
That pierst his hands and feete, till he was dead;
Our sinnes the speare, that made the blood to flow.
Our sins were those, y t whipt him with such strife,
Our sins the Crosse, that tooke away his life.
If Mary mourned for our sweete Messias,
For Beniamin, if Rachel did lament,
If Isreal wept for their good King Iosias,
If flintie stones at Christs death did rent:
Then may we rent our hearts, and weepe as much,
That for our sinnes Christs torment should be such.
O be thou earnest to subdue thy sinne,
And striue with God till he haue blessed thee,
As Iacob did; so he his wish did winne:
Of Iacobs race if thou wilt counted bee,
In faithfull sort he did Gods fauour seeke,
Wrestling by praier, and submission meeke:
The Ostridge wilde, with swift wings cannot flie,
But lifts his body vp when he doth run,
Pricking himselfe with spurres, faster to hie,
And so his present danger doth he shun:
So pricke your hearts, and run from sinne amaine,
The deadly danger of eternall paine.
Looke sinfull soule, and looking view thy fill,
Marke in mans bodie how the Artiers runne,
Beating the veines, and neuer stand they still,
Least that the blood should grow corrupt and num:
So beate thy hart, with praying neuer cease,
Least corrupt sinne doth more and more increase.
And pray that thou maist see his glorious face,
Who is the ioy of Angels and of Saints;
He giues rewarde to them that asketh grace,
They shall obtaine the blisse that neuer faints:
Who euer shall be safe from all anoy,
Crownde with true honor and eternall ioy.
Blest is that soule, which hath truely warded,
Where Saints are Clarkes, and Iesus is the Iudge,
Angels the Iurie, Innocence the Verdit,
Where is no fees, nor cause of any grudge:
Who would not shedde whole floods of teares a­while,
Which afterward might haue such cause to smile?
Esteeme the worth of true heart-grieued teares,
Obtayning mercy, at Gods sacred seat;
And pleading pardon in his gracious eares,
Repentance true, doth hide offences great:
Teares tye the tongue of an accusers grudge,
Softning the rigour of seuerest Iudge.
Teares like true Aduocates won my Lords loue,
By teares, first did I fly from sinne to grace,
By teares, I did my Christ to mercy moue,
By teares being washt, Christ did my soule imbrace:
By teares, great plagues the Niniuites did preuent,
At Ionas preaching when they did lament.
These weeping teares did quench Gods kindled ire,
Appeasde his furie, winning heauens blisse,
Procur'd Gods grace, purchast my soules desire,
Whereas the spring of life eternall is:
Then Christ by grace I found my harts direction,
Who then instal'd my soule with true perfection.
Perfection pure, where springes of mercie rise,
Whereas the crowne of life is free from feare,
Where the cheer's ioy, a Kingdome is the prize,
Saints faithfull subiects, Angels are the queare:
Where Gods temple the Lambe of glorious light
Is guarded in his Throne with Angels bright.
Bright is his Glorie, as the purest Sunne,
Where company of Saints thou shalt enioy,
Receipt of a Diadem thy soule hath wonne,
Where lifes fee simple suffers no annoy:
Ioyfull Receipt, where soules are not distressed,
But liue in pleasure, and are euer blessed.
Blessed? ô thrice ten times blessed are they,
Attaining ioy of heauen with mournfull teares,
Wher's life without impeachment or decay,
Where soules are setled free from former feares,:
O happie soule! thrice happie there to dwell,
Where ioy passeth conceit, for tongue to tell,
Sweete Iesus take my soule into that place,
Which I so long time longed for to see,
Where I may view my Lords illustrate face,
And laud the greatnesse of thy Maiestie:
O ioy of ioyes! O pure celestiall sight!
Where mercy shines with sweet aboundant light.
O sinfull man, thinke on this blessed fruite,
Which true repentance to thy soule doth bring:
Cease not to pray, till God doth graunt thy suite,
Peccaui crie, with Dauid royall King.
Harts true contrition, is soules blisse beginner,
Heauen ioyes to see a true conuerted sinner.
While sorrow sits with mone and casts her count,
While woe and miserie brings their muses thither,
To nurse thy griefes in numbers that amount,
Vse sighes in lieu of teares and sobs togither:
By sighes and grones rue thy distresses deepe,
When dried eyes denies thee teares to weepe.
The Lord will sure accept thy inward cries,
When faith with loue, on spotlesse Christ is plaste,
Thy hart may weepe, though dried be thy eies:
For Adams sighes and grones the Lord imbraste,
For when she vsde, nor words, nor weeping teares,
God said, why cri'st thou thus within my eares.
Our wretched mindes besiegde with fruitles toyes,
Inchainde in sinne, and trained vnto thrall,
In errors lap lies luld with brittle ioyes,
Till griefe doth ring the ruine of our fall:
Which wounds our soules with inward bleeding sores,
That stept in danger of deaths fatall dores.
From woe, sinne, and sorrow shall we ne'r be free,
Till death to our acquittance sets his hand,
Nor receiue the charter of eternitie,
Till our soules present at the sealing stand:
But when death comes to put his pen to write,
None knowes the day, the time, the houre, or night.
Consider well, all mortall flesh is grasse,
The beautie thereof fadeth like a floure:
All things are vaine we seeke to bring to passe,
Suretie of life, no creature hath one houre.
Then place thy soule, to please the Lord of light,
So shalt thou liue for euer in his sight.
This life is like the seasons of the yeare,
A haruest that abides the reapers will:
Some in the seede, the blade, some in the eare,
Is blasted, cropt, cut, mowne and reaped still.
A shade, a breath, a blast, a span, a flower,
A mornings deaw that's dried in an hower.
First marke the sorrowes of this wretched life,
And how thy soule still clogged is with sinne;
How worldly cares doe keepe thee still in strife,
The many perils thou art wrapped in.
Then shalt thou see this life to vs hath lent,
But harts vexation, griefe and discontent.
Our greatest pleasures end in paines distresse,
The Elements offend vs with their heate,
The earth with vapours colde doth vs oppresse,
Our health is mixt with sicknes, dangers great:
To be alone, alacke it grieues vs sore,
And companie disturbeth vs much more.
Admit the Lord hath lent thee earthly treasure,
And thou enioyest the labour of thy hands,
Thy wife and children is to thee a pleasure;
Thou raisest sumptuous buildings on thy lands.
What is all this, wert thou a Prince of power,
Hauing no charter of thy life one houre?
This life (alasse) is but a winke of Time,
And on eternitie our ioyes depend:
Our mortall bodies are but earth and slime,
Ordainde of God, his glorie to attend,
Like to a bubble, weake as brittle glasse,
Or like a shadow that full soone doth passe.
Why should we sleepe or slug one night in sin,
Seeing that night might chance to be our last,
What grieuous danger should our soules be in,
If vnpreparde so sinfull hence we past:
Then euery minute waile thy sinne with sorrow,
Men here to day, are laide in earth to morrow.
But thou wilt say, the world bids me delay,
And tels me that I neede not feare my life,
I shall liue long, and in great pleasure stay:
And haue much time t'auoide all future strife.
Ah thinke not so, the flattering world doth lie,
While yet thou speakest, thou maist on suddaine die.
Amend thy life therefore without all let,
Least when the time approacheth thou should'st dye;
Thou dost thy soules chiefe comfort quite forget,
When thousand cares will leade thy thoughts awrie.
Repent, repent, death hath thy life in gage,
Repent in youth, stay not till crooked age.
O thinke what wofull state thy soule is in,
When death drawes neere with terrible assaults:
That houre maist thou be vexed so with sin,
So much tormented with thy filthie faults,
And with thy bodies paine so vexed bee,
That true repentance will be farre from thee.
What time thy wofull minde will chieflie run,
Which way thou maist haue ease of bodies smart;
And how thou maist those bitter gripings shun,
That with such sorrow burdens thy poore hart.
How ill aduisde wast thou in fainting breath,
To post repentance to the houre of death.
What horror then will thy poore hart indure,
When feare of death doth so afflict thy minde,
When phisickes helpe cannot thy conscience cure;
Nor for thy soule a remedie can finde,
When thou shalt see the diuell accusing stand,
And gaping hell vpon the other hand.
But in respect this griefe is nought at all,
Touching thy soule, and whither it shall goe,
After she leaues this fading life mortall:
She at Gods iudgement seate her selfe must shew,
Sentence to haue, and glory to obtaine,
Or else sad sorrow and eternall paine.
O thinke what torments sinners haue in hell,
That's mad with paine, and there doth rore and crie;
In extreame torment which no tongue can tell,
Alwaies a dying but can neuer die:
O hart! ô minde! ô eyes beholde and see,
Obserue and marke what endlesse torments bee.
Iudas too late doth there himselfe excuse,
Too late for Achan, to restore his golde,
Gehezi doth his gifts too late refuse,
And Diues all too late his faultes vnfolde.
Lord though with these we haue deserued paine,
Yet to thy kingdome let our soules retaine.
The seas saltnes is tasted by one drop,
False oathes describes a guiltie heart within,
The world wins our flesh to a seruile lot:
Feare doth seduce vs vnto deadly sin.
Most mightie Lord, therefore to thee we pray,
That thy true spirit may our conscience stay.
Sweete Iesu Christ, resplendent in thy seate,
Which purchast by thy death, mans perfect ioy,
For my misdeedes, thy pardon I intreate;
With wings of mercie shroude vs from anoy:
Thy death slew death, thy pains was our protectiō,
Thou triumphst ouer all by glorious resurrection.
It was foretolde, and truely spoke of thee,
By holy Prophets many yeares agoe,
Gods glorious sonne should no corruption see,
Layde dead in graue, from graue aliue should goe.
The sealed stone, the carefull watchmens eye,
Could not keepe downe thy mightie maiestie.
But when I had my Sauiours presence lost,
Inforste I was vnto my former trade,
On surging waues my fishing boate was tost,
Yet of great labour little gaine I made:
All day I toyld, but all in vaine I wraught,
And all the tedious night, nothing I caught.
But when the cheerefull mornings light appeard,
Vpon the sandy shore my Sauiour stood,
Whose heauenly voice, our heauie harts so cheard:
Calling to vs, vpon the surging flood.
My friends (quoth he) what? haue you any meate?
We answered no; nor yet one bit to eate.
Then said the Lord, that made both sea and land,
Vpon the right side of your sliding ship,
Cast forth your tangling nets with nimble hand,
And you shall finde, what earst from you did slip.
We did the same, whereby such store we got,
As neuer like did fall vnto our lot.
So full of skipping fish the net was found,
That we by all our force, our strength and power,
Not able were to draw it from the ground,
Such was the store we got that instant houre:
At that one draught, my selfe did tell and see,
An hundred mightie fishes fiftie three.
I knew not Lord thy sacred maiestie,
For sinne and shame, had dulled Peter quite,
Till Iohn to me, thy glorie did descrie:
I quite forgot my Christ, the Lord of might:
Yet see my Sauiour in my greatest neede,
Forsooke me not for all my hainous deede.
This did reuiue my heauie mournfull minde,
A treble comfort did my ioy restore:
Iohn, childe of grace, did soone our Sauiour finde,
Who said, t'is Iesus standeth on the shore:
It is the Lord, vndoubted it is he,
As by this worke we may sufficient see.
I hearing that, in hast did leaue my net,
And to my Sauiour sworm, whereas he stood,
Through many mounting billowes did I get,
For he presern'd me in the raging flood:
The peacefull shore, when so I had attaind,
There saw I fire, and fish, and bread ordaind.
A heauenly dinner on the earth below,
New raised Christ, for vs had there preparde,
He saw our want, and did our hunger know,
Poore men distrest, the Lord doth still regarde:
Christ therefore calde, and bad vs come to dinner,
The righteous Lord eates with a wretched sinner.
With his most holy hand he brake vs bread,
And gaue vs fish, our hunger to asswage:
A gracious countnance, on vs did hee spread,
Whose conquest did, both death and hell enrage.
And this was now, the third time truely knowne,
To his Disciples, Christ himselfe had showne.
Then after dinner, Christ tooke me aside,
And thrice he askt me if I loued him:
Thrice I confest, and three times I replyde,
Thou knowest my God, my loue to thee is firme:
And meete it was, that thrice I should replie,
I loued him, whom thrice I did denie.
Full fortie daies did Christ on earth remaine,
After his glorious rising from the dead;
Shewing himselfe to his Disciples plaine,
In most familiar manner, breaking bread:
When all was done, his Godhead had intended,
Most suddainely the bright heauens he ascended.
In faire Bethania did he leaue vs all,
While blessing vs with his aboundant grace,
He was tane vp with power maiesticall;
A glorious cloude, his body did imbrace:
We gazing after, did his power adore,
Whom Heauen inclosde, and we beheld no more.
On right hand of the fathers brightest cleare,
In glory great he sitteth euery hower,
Till in the cloudes he shall againe appeare:
To iudge the world by his eternall power.
Lord send our soules, to that most blessed place,
To see the splendor of Iehouahs face.
Our mightie God, as Daniel plaine doth shew,
In throne doth sit, the Sheepe from Goats to cull;
His raiment all more white then winters snow,
His siluer hayre like to the purest wooll,
His seate bright shining like a fierie flame,
And thousand thousands, for to serue him came.
God make vs seruants to so great a Lord,
To know his mercie and admired loue:
Whose praise all Angels sing with one accord,
By whom all earthly creatures liue and moue.
With him is life that neuer shall decay,
Soules perfect ioy doth in his presence stay.
The wounded heart, by hatefull sinne misled,
His grace doth cure, and makes for euer sound,
The bitter teares that contrite sinners shed,
Within his citie is preseru'd and found:
Sinne, death, nor hell, cannot that soule destroy,
Whom this most mighty Lord preserues for ioy.
For he will lay it in a bed of peace,
And lap it round, with ioy on euery side,
Where is no sorrow, mourning shall surcease;
No cause of griefe shall in that place abide.
It is a kingdome fraught with all delight,
Such as no heart can thinke, no pen can write.
No tribulation of this mortall life,
No smart, no sorrow that can happen here,
No torment, torture, no heart-killing strife,
Is worthie of the ioy prepared there:
Then come all griefes, that euer eye did see,
From loue of Christ, they shall not sep'rate mee.
If I doe suffer for Christ Iesus name,
His dearest Saints haue been as fore afflicted;
Some sawne asunder, some on suddaine slaine,
Imprisoned, stoned, and extreamely whipped:
But yet most blest were they, though pained so,
Heauen is their meede, where is no taste of woe.
And thither is our Sauiour gone before,
For vs a glorious kingdome to prepare,
Where we shall liue, and raigne for euermore,
In heauenly pleasure passing all compare:
Then feare no foes, to them it is damnation,
But vnto vs a signe of sure saluation.
For why, this is a doctrine firme and sure,
Worthie of all men to be still imbraced,
Christ came on earth, the sinfull soule to cure,
To saue all such, whom Sathan hath disgraced:
And when we end this life so transitorie,
We shall be crownde with euerlasting glorie.
Then Peter cease thy ouer-mournfull dittie,
In highest heauens remaines thy greatest treasure,
And with Saint Iohn, describe that holy Cittie,
Which is the pallace of eternall pleasure:
Where Angels dwell, and Saints all clothed be,
In purest white, with palmes of victorie.
All pau'd with golde are those Celestiall streets,
With precious stones, and Diamonds enterlaced,
Twelue gates of pearles, call'd Margarets,
The wals foundation, preciouslie is placed
With Chalcedon, Em'rald, Birle, Topaz, Iasper,
Chrisolet, Sardonex, Amthest and Sapher.
Christ in this heauenly Citie is the light,
In midst whereof, his glorie doth appeare,
There needs no sunne, for there is neuer night,
And from his seate, descends a riuer cleare,
Whose precious springs with christall streames are rife,
The bankes all set with trees of lasting life.
Into this Citie enters none at all,
But such as are within the booke of life;
No discord, no aduersitie doth fall,
No sinne, no shame, no sorrow, paine, or strife,
Among those soules which there so blessed be,
Nor ought that tasteth of mortalitie.
But there is ioy and mirth without all sadnes,
Rest without labour, gaine without all losse,
Health without pain, abundance ioynde with gladnes,
Life without death, and cleannesse without drosse?
All ioy vnspeakable, in Gods most glorious sight,
Where Saints and Angels sing both day and night.
O ioy of ioyes, ioy without all measure,
Where Saints doe bathe in euerlasting blisse,
And swim in streames of euer during pleasure,
Where all the hoast of noble Martyrs is,
Where Abraham, Isaacke, and all Patriarkes be,
Singing sweete Alleuia's of eternitie.
Mirth to the heart, and musicke to the eares,
Is the fruition of Gods sacred sight,
Health to the soule, and ioy for bitter teares;
And to the grieued conscience sweet delight:
The crowne of saints, the diademe of grace,
Whose powrefull deitie rules in euery place.
O when shall I beholde this heauenly sight?
When shall I heare my blessed Sauiours voyce?
When shall I enter in this glorious light?
When shall my soule on Syon hill reioyce?
Most mightie Lord, protector of my will,
Let me sing Himnes vpon thy holy hill.
Let all sicke soules, laden with extreme sinne,
Come vnto Christ, in faith and trembling feare,
Feare ioynde with loue, though they haue dazeled bin,
Christ on the Crosse did all offences beare:
And then will he by his imperiall might,
Blot their transgressions cleane out of his sight.
Stand stedfast man, and striue thou to attaine
That high immortall Crowne of puritie:
Till death approach, still faithfull doe remaine,
So shalt thou finde Heauens true felicitie.
Most glorious God (oh) heare my mournefull cryes,
With wings of mercie wipe my watrie eyes.
And so let all relenting sinners say,
With faith and hope in this vnstable state,
With trust in God, driue damnd dispayre away,
And so come boldlie to Gods mercie gate:
In christian armour, wrestle, striue, and venter,
Vntill thy soule the blissefull citie enter.
Wher's full fruition of thy soules saluation,
Where holy Angels still doe sing and laude,
Where Saints shall triumph at thy blest crownation,
And all the heauenly court thy ioyes applaude:
Warrant this Lord, free vs from Sathans den,
Forget, forgiue, sweet Iesus say Amen.
FINIS.

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