SOLILOQVIES THEOLOGICALL.

I am alone, and yet I am not stone, for the Father is with mee.

[...]

Thy people shall be Munificencies (free Princely Heroicalnesses, thy Vo­luntiers) in the day of thy Power (thy Army) in the beauties of Holinesse.

Psal. 110.

[...]

In that day it shall be said, I am for the Lord.

[...]

They stedfastly beheld him, and were abundantly enlightned.

Psal. 34.5.

[...].

Sophocles.

Surely men of high degree are vanity, men of low degree a lie, to be held in the ballance, they are altogether lighter than vanity.

Psa. 62.8.

Heu quantillum videmus! Nil scimus, nil sumus.

We know, we are, nothing.

And unto man he saith, Behold, the feare of the Lord that is wisdome, and to depart from evill is understanding.

Job.

They have rejected thy word, therefore is there no wisdome in them.

Jer.

By J. S. Gent.

London Printed by G. Bishop, and R. White, for Tho. Ʋnderhill, at the Bible in Woodstreete. 1641.

Christian Reader,

THou I mean who art not the nominall, but the reall, not the titular, but the title-inlivening Christian. Whose heart knowes the meaning of such a dreadfully glorious, and gloriously dread­full undertaking, to be called by the name of God. Thou that fearest the Lord greatly, and art greatly awed at the least of his words. Thou with whom the goodliest profession will passe but for a guilded formality, that suffers it selfe to be wanting in morality. As knowing there may be some vertues where there is no grace; but there can be no grace where there is not all vertues. As knowing where the choicest eminencies of nature come short, their Christianity exceeds; where the Mo­ralist ends, the Divine begins. He that lives not soberly and righteously, it is impossible he shud live godlily. It is works that must justifie our faith, as well as faith our works. It is a Christ of our own making, (and not Jesus the Son of God) that is learned otherwise. While we think to be saved either by, or without Obedience. The two Rocks whereon the world is Shipwrackt, while the God-instructed Christian keeps the narrow Channell. Thou that makest more consci­ence of, art more watchfull, more carefull of the least ill word, ill thought, then the Christian at large, of all the ill deeds of his whole life. As far more willingly choosing the bitterest [Page]death, then the sweetest sin, as knowing thou shat find it the end of sin, that was the beginning of death. Thou that hast an abundant entrance administred to thee, in that straite and narrow way to the Kingdome of Heaven. That hast all the Commandements of God, That keepest all his wayes (in a Gospell acceptation) in the uttermost latitude, extent and spirituality of them, to the very first rising of con­cupiscence, and yet hast an easie yoke, a pleasant burthen: While thou art endeavouring all to the uttermost, and utter­ly denying all thy endeavours. Thou that art a wonder to thy selfe, the gazing stock of men and Angels: of the congratu­lating joyes of some of the calumniating envies of other; while thou art so wonderfully and fearefully made! A man of such blessed wonders! being a part of that unparalelled Master­piece of the Eternall Wisdome, the Lord Christ. Thou that knowest what it is to lie under those pressing, weighty, and over-bearing apprehensions, of an infinite Majesty resident in the soule, crushing as it were, and contriting it to the most disshivered minutest pieces, while it is still firmly and intirely fixed on Him, and with full purpose of heart cleaving to Him, in such a sweet and blessed repose, such a perfect peace, that Millions of Millions of Worlds can neither give thee nor take from thee. Who at thy worst (to speak after the manner of men since all is good) thy distractedst condition, as the World calls it, findest that reall, substantiall, that pure, and as I may say, infinite comfort in the most clouded darke, dejected, disconsolate hope, that is objected on a simple and infinite God, that all the unclean, scanty-spirited, self-impri­soned World cannot once conceive at the highest of their mad merriments, and madding jollities. That findest inexpressi­bly more content in the very longest waitings for any the least beam of grace, to be glanced on thee through the face of thy [Page]Christ, then thou canst, nay then the joviallest themselves can (while they goe laughing along with the foole to the stocks) in the loudest blaze of their crackling, their dying Thornes, that end in a bed of ashes. When thy soule shall be reposed in a bed of ever-flourishing, soft, and fragrant Roses. The sa­vour whereof, as by a gentle winde from a garden of Spices is conveyed to thy Heaven-travelling soule. And hence is it that all the world to thee that livest in so sweet and fresh a Coun­trey, is but a miery and stinking City, thou canst no way in­dure, longer then thou hast a Pomander of this in thy nostrils. Thou sincere single-eyed-single-hearted loyall soule, whom no­thing can please, and who wilt please nothing, but thy God. That hast no affection for thy selfe, for any, but what are sub­ordinate to Him, his sweet and holy command. As having learned the truth, in the power, the love, the life thereof, doest truth, and therefore commest to it, in its searchingst discoveries, walkes in it, rejoyces in it, since thou hast known it as it is in Him, who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, the true and living way. In which never seducing path goe all thy affections, actions, motions. As holding fast the faith and love which are in Him, living godly in Him. In Him doing, being all that thou art. Thou that art of all men most like an Hypocrite, while of all thou dost most differ from him. That art as like him to the eye of the world, as a Diamond to a Bristoll Stone, while thou differest from him toto coelo, as much as truth from falsehood, good from bad, heaven from hell. Thou that art incouraged by thy discou­ragements, and furthered by thy scandals, and hinderances of Christianity. As knowing that Difficilia quae pulchra, Ex­cellent things are hard, but when they meet with a man of an excellent spirit. And then their very difficulties, and excel­lencies make them easie; because more animate, and intend his [Page]spirit to their prosecution. As knowing the truth sincerely, the heart and realitie of Religion, to be so much the more amia­ble, lovely and choice-worthy, by how much the more faire Commendable and admirable is its counterfeit. As arguing that if Hypocrisie can make so goodly and delectable a shew, and yet be but a shew, what then is that sinceritie that is the substance? if that can attaine to such an emminencie, such a glory, and yet be as blacke as Hell to the eyes of the all-di­scerning Sunne, and inherit the place of the utmost and re­motest darkenesse, what then is this that differs as much from it as God from the devill? Thou who knowest no rea­dier and safer way to humilitie, then that which the world makes to their pride: the consideration of their owne parts, gifts, indowments, abilities, eminencies whatsoever. As then most truly and throughly humbled, when thou risest to thy highest station and takest the fullest view of all thy ex­cellencies. As seeing nothing but what thou hast of him, in him, and for him the onely ground of humilitie because of glory. To see thy selfe thus and thus richly qualified, and yet to see thy selfe to be miserable, poore, blinde, and naked, to have so much and yet to have nothing, argueth that the Candle of God hath shined over thy head in its brighter beames, and his secrets have dwelt more intimately more abidingly in thy Tabernacle. While seeing thy selfe of the noblest stocke, of the choysest of nations, as touching learning with the lear­ned'st, concerning zeale with the most active, touching the righteousnesse in the Law, blamelesse, &c. and yet to treade and trample all these things under thy feete, with the utmost in­dignation and detestation, as the most despicable drosse and dunge in comparison of one thought of revealed Christ, that hast knowne, or rather art knowne of Him that is the onely excellency. I, such a light shining in upon the soule [Page]and out-shining the most glorious Sunne even at mid day, is that which will cast the greatest Apostle upon his face, and make him cry out that he is lesse then the least of Saints. And certainly there may be a due and selfe-denying acknowledgement of parts, indowments, performances, &c. while there may be an impudently modest and selfe-seek­ing selfe-denyall; of all the most desperate, the most detesta­ble hypocrisie. Besides, for a man to carry himselfe lowly, de­jectedly, discontentedly, upon the meere convincements of his defects, and faults, may be meere basenesse and pusilanimitie, that will soone upon the least conceit of its owne worth, turne into, and indeed (narrowly looke into) proceeds from, and car­ries along with it, pride and selfe-love. Neither is that to bee thought true humilitie that is not a furtherance to thankeful­nesse. And the only course to keep from boasting being to learn how to know all of grace, how to glory, boast, in the Lord. We being onely so farre humbled as outed of our selves, so far outed of our selves as filled with God; so far as he is plea­sed gloriously to condescend, to humble himselfe unto us, and graciously to take us up, to advance us into himselfe. There being nothing that layes the soule lower in its owne eyes, then its highest exaltation in Gods. Nothing that makes it better know, better keepe, its distance, in an humble, lovefull, trembling, joyfull, every-way-duly-affectionate, active, obedient, walking before him, then the knowledge, then the as­surance of its communion of its union with him. (I know the wisedome of God is foolishnesse to the world, it is igno­rant, it is wulfully ignorant of it. But I speake to them whose hearts have the minde of Christ, and can sensibly in­terpret the meaning of his spirit. And certainly he that speaks not nonsence to nature, speakes but little supernaturall sence.) Besides nature may have a kinde of Ahab-like Judas-like [Page]humilitie on the apprehensions of evills morrall or naturall. But to be humbled at the thoughts of our selfe-sufficiency, in him who is our onely sufficiency, our new selfe, this of grace. While our hearts understand that sweet harmony of that seeming contradiction, I, and yet not I; but the Spirit of Christ that dwelleth in me: that humble, meeke, gentle spirit. Thou, whose maine, whose principall study is to know all the excel­lencies of the World in the face of Christ; to know it by them, and them by it, that through it thou maist know him who hath ordained it as the conveying Medium of the light, of the know­ledge of his Glory. Thou whose world-and selfe-contemning be­haviour, speakes thee one of those finding seekers, and seeking finders, that with asweet sharpenesse, and unsatisfied satisfacti­on, followest on to the knowledge of him, in whom are hid all the treasures of wisedome and knowledge. Thou sweetly passionated heart, that knowest what are those flutterings of the soule to flie; those holy efforts, those lanchings forth into the great depths: what it is to be given up to, to lye under the power of the Divine Spirit, while on thy water-like diffused soule, it hatcheth new formes of the Divine nature. Thou tender, humbled, shi­vered, and shivering spirits, that worke out thy salvation with feare and trembling; while thou biddest defiance to the gates of Hell, and laughest death and destruction in the face. Thou, who though often assaulted with Thornes in the flesh, with buffetings in thy spirit, art kept in such a compleate peace in the sense of the Al-sufficient Grace, and canst glory, canst pleasure in, count gaines of thy infirmities, thy distresses, necessities, persecutions, &c. as the advancers of the over­comming strength of thy Christ, thy only joy, glory, gaine. Thou poore, weake, feeble wretch, that canst doe nothing, and yet canst doe all things, through him that strengthens thee. Thou whose inward and heart-disolving sighes are the [Page]daily harbingers for thy speedy admission to that great and e­ternall Supper of thy solemniz'd espousalls. Thou whose love­sicke, Christ-inamoured soule, bursts for the longings that it hath, that it alwayes hath, after the full and never-inter­rupted imbraces of thy deare, thy onely deare beloved. Thou that countest every minute an age till thou art with Him; and yet countest seaven and seaven yeares, ages and ages, spent in the greatest hardship he shall appoint thee, but as a minut in thy sweete waitings on him. Thou whose Heaven-visited soule cannot but break forth in exalting exclamations! O the beauties! the harmonies! the sweetnesses! the riches! the glories! the Crownes! the inexpressiblenesses! the inconceiva­blenesses! of the knowledge, of the love of God, in Christ Je­sus, by his holy Spirit! Thou who art Heaven, inside and outside. Who art cloathed with the Sunne, and treadest the Moone under thy feete; while thou hast that within thee, that could it be seene, would dazle the eyes of the world into an en­vious astonishment. In whom is the Kingdome of Heaven, the righteousnes, the peace, the joy, in the Holy-ghost, un­speakable & glorious. Thou that countest the doing of his Will on Earth, as it is done in Heaven, the turning of Heaven into Earth, and men into Angels. And therefore seest infinite more beautie in the poorest, Priest-deridest Mecanicke, consciona­bly and sincerely busied in his calling, though but in the shove­ling up of dirt, and sweeping of Chimnies, then thou dost in all the guildings and paintings, the Copes and Surplusses, &c. all the sumptuous gallant trickings of the Beast, in the wilfull, sensuall, hypocriticall worship of God. Yea then in the hearing the reading of Sermons, meditating, praying, confer­ring, &c. or whatever more immediate services, more world-withdrawing exercises, so as excluding the seasonable discharge of thy severall relations, the performance of thy [Page]dutie to God, in and through that to men. As knowing the worth of every thing to be as it is to the will of God; who hath made these latter ordinances in their time, as well as those former. And that the God of nature who made nothing in vaine, hath given forth such a diversitie of commands not with most wise ends. To shew what concord he can make in such a seeming discrepancie betweene worke and worke, men and men, betweene heaven and earth, in such a multiplicitie of imployments in due time and place; while they are all Ac­cording to his will: And make an inconceiveable melody in the answering of a good conscience to him. To shew thorough what a varietie of occurrents he can carry the faith­full soule while he still keepes it with Him. And that hee might keepe them in an humble dependencie on him to learne how to bring forth their fruits in due season. To set forth the glory of Christianitie in the sutable composure of such a change of Ornaments. The excellencie of it in over-com­ming so many difficulties, in passing so many turnings and windings, conducted by the thus-more-commended manifold wisedome, power, goodnesse of God. That takest it for so much superstition, so much idolizing of the best duties, (and therefore for so much no duties) while they are set up against the will of God. Thou whom prosperitie keepes praying, ad­versitie praysing. That art exalted by thy humiliation, incou­raged by thy feare, rejoyced by thy sorrow, that gettest thy life by throwing it away, that findest thy selfe by losing it, that art watchfull in every thing, carefull in nothing. That art encountred with often doubts, scruples, irresoluti­ons, self-disputes, and yet livest at the highest rate of assurance of the divine favour. That, yea by, feeding thy selfe with feare, thy watchings, prayings, fastings art carryed forth in the liveliest vigorousnesse and luxuriancy of spirits. ( [...] [Page] Mic. 4.) Thou that art now at the top of the third Hea­vens, in the highest exaltations of thy spirit, and now againe at the bottome of the lowest Hell, while thou still lyest as fast in the hugging imbraces of the omnipresent as ever. Thou whose modest, sober, pure, peaceable, guilelesse, discreet, un­blamable, zealous, lively, active deportment of thy selfe, speakes the one that hath been brought up at thee feet of Jesus. Thou whose generous, magnanimous, God-resembling Spirit stoopes to humilty, and overtops Pride. That while thou lyest below the lowest dejection of the meanest Sainted Pesant, bea­rest thee above the most disastrous, dismallest aspects of the arrogantest, Prelatickst, highest-aspiring, Kingdome-doom­ing Comet, as far as the third Heaven is above the Meteory Region. Thou that canst gladly stoope with that meeke Lamb to wash the feete of the meanest Minister of the Gospell, Lay downe thy life for the God-loved and therefore world hated brethren, while Lyon-like thy righteous soule rous­eth up it selfe against the Hypocriticall Pharisee, with the most contemptuous and undervaluing disdaine. Thou that with a heartie willingnesse canst gladly abase thy selfe to un­loose the latchet of the meanest Saint, while thou knowest not how to give a Pontificall Peacocke the dissembling Comple­ment of thy hast: though he swell, though he burnish, though he bustle, though he crow it never so domineeringly; till he be furtivis nudatus coloribus. Thou that like thy Hea­venly Father, knowest how to bee afflicted in all the afflictions of his holy ones, his humble ones, while wherein soever the Presumptuous deale proudly, Thou wilt in Him be above them, and make their proud­est wrath to praise Him. Thou that seest far more beauty on the very feet of the poorest Embassadour of the Gospel, then on the honour-pleasure-profit-Triple-crowned head of [Page]those enemies to the Crown, because to the (vertue because friends to the signe of the) Crosse of Christ, In making the earth their study, their belly their God, their glorious Ti­tles their shame, themselves destruction, and their Country distraction. Thou that knowest how to turn the other cheeke to him that smites thee, and to let goe thy cloake too to him that wud take away thy coate; and yet know­est thy time too when to sell it for a sword, and thy life by it as deare as thou canst. While yet thou seekest not so much the destruction of the enemy, no nor the preservation of thy selfe, as the obedience too, as the glory of God by it. Thou that hast learnt, how to render blessing for cursing, and pray for them that despitefully use thee, while still thou remembrest that the same Michael that brought no railing accusation against the devill, called the Pharisees a generation of Vi­pers, the evill-working Jewes, the children of the devil. Thou whose well tempered soule knowest the meaning of a zealous meeknesse, a milde indignation, a faceat gravity, a sollid pleasantnesse, &c. Thou who while thy cautelous heart is still agitated with the most quick resentments, & readiest ap­prehensions of dangers, art most firmly setled in a most unsha­ken peace of a providentiall security. Thou whose giving heart is streaming it selfe forth in the most inlarged and selfe-loosing compassions, the most liberall supplyes and contributions to the suffering Saints, and hast thy awakened feare continually ex­ercised with the alarmes of war and death, while thou stand­est with an undaunted magnanimity, in a close, fast, fixed, Communion with thy God, like Mount Sion that cannot be shaken; triumphing over Hell and Death. That while thou bleedest in their wounds, art bound in their bonds, dyest in their death, blessest for thy wounds, art freed with thy bonds, livest in thy death. That walking in the shadow of death, [Page]in the presence of thine enemies, hast a set banquet of hea­venly delicacies, thy head annointed with the oyle of joy and gladnesse, by the over-shadowing hand of the Almighty Redeemer, while thy soule is like a brim-full Cup, over­running with joy and praises, with joy and praises. Thou that amandest the wicked from thee, that thou maist keep the Commandements of thy God, whom thou findest so, so inapprehensibly good. Thou that abhorrest none more then pragmaticall, busie-body, censorious men, as the most slight-spirited, idle self-ignorant, worthlesse men that are, and yet seekest not thine own things, but the things of others, and canst not so hate thy brother in thy heart, as not to re­buke him; and therefore as not to rebuke him in love. Thou in whose eyes a vile person is contemned: whose God-ac­quainted spirit, can not sit with vaine, empty, triviall-spirit­ed persons, Sons of Belial, whose foolish hearts are not lift up in-to the wayes of God, that are above to the wise; Triflers away of precious houres in frothie, frivolous, fruit­lesse communications, that have no, and therefore can admi­nister no grace to the hearer: Men not of Heaven-ascend­ing discourse, spirit, life. Thou that hast found the two edged sword of the word, dividing between the soule and the spirit, and raising this as far above that, as that is above the body, That thou mayest serve him, in the spirit of thy minde, in the more extracted, as it were, and more sublimed quintessence, the morefree & noble [...] of life, love, zeal. Thou that like that Purites strikest fire; and throwest sparks about thee, to quicke the dead and scindry soules, and countest it far more honour to be denominated a zelot with thy Savi­our, from that which fed on his marrow, that pure and un­defiled zeale of his Fathers house that consumed him, then to be counted a dead carkase, of Him who bid the dead bury the dead. Thou Precisian that walkest as accurately, curious­ly [Page]as upon the ridge of an house, and therefore as wisely, if the Spirit of Wisdome be a competent Judge. Thou that art one of the holy brethren, that labourest to be holy as hee that called thee is holy; to be holy as (though thou canst not be as holy as) thy heavenly Father; and therefore hast that title linked to it, as a concomitant of the pertaking of the heavenly calling. Thou that art counted as so much off scouring and dung, while thou art one of whom the world is not worthy; a seditious, factious turbulent fellow that turnest the world topsie turvey, while thou art among the proppes and pillars without which it would instantly and irre­coverably sinke. Thou that hast God for thy Father, Christ for thy Brother, the holy Spirit for thy companion, the An­gells for thy attendance, Heaven-the-full injoyment of God for thy perpetuall home. Thou that art his undefiled one, his jewell his glory, the Apple of his eye, his pleasant portion, the dearely beloved of his soule, the darling of the Deitie Himselfe. Thou that art the subject of so rare a peece of the divine wisedome in bringing him that stood at the vastest di­stance, the deadliest defiance to the nearest the closest the most endeared intimacie. In making a lumpe of rude and unfor­med darkenesse, a lampe of pure and undefiled splendour in that inapproachable light. A wispe of straw the fewell of everlast­ing burning, a mingling flame in ever-loving imbraces. But whither will this sweet-sounding name transport me? Thou man, that art worthy of the name, as fearing God and keep­ing his commandements, which is the whole, the com­pleatnesse of a man, in him, in whom wee are compleate, pertaking of an higher nature, being not carnall, & walking like a man, but spirituall and walking (as thou mayst say it In, as the knowledge of it will sweetly enforce thee to say it in the deepest, the feelingst humilitie) as a dimunitive, as an opitome, of Christ, of God. While all murmurings, envying, [Page]strifes, evill surmises, backbitings, &c. purged out, thou pos­sessest thy meeke patient soule, like a pure and untroubled Ri­vulet, over flowing in superabundancie of loves and sweet­nesses. But what shall I say of thee? thou Ʋniforme Multifor­mitie, beautifull blacke, crosse-divided ground, concording dis­cord! Thou that hast eternitie assigned thee to contemplate thy owne worth; in thy onely worth the Lord Christ. To thee candid Christian as having knowne the wisedome that is from above, that is first pure and therefore gentle, easie to bee entreated without partialitie, prejudicatenesse, sensorious­nesse, Hypocrisie to thee doe I present hoc qualecunque meum; this tenue munusculum, these broken and rudely or­dered meditations, (the off-springs of those more serene, lucid, benign houres, those horae blandiores) breathing themselves forth in these Canzonets of their serious pleasure, which have long laine by me in loose and scribled Adversaria, and now after many and oft selfe-disputes, suddenly and confusedly ac­cording to the condition of the time scrabled up together into this Miscellanie; as willing rather then the growing mischiefes of hardned hearts, hearts lifted up to their ruine, shud prevent thee of all, thou shudst have some, though too those but prepo­sterously and promiscuously hudled together. In which ruder Rapsodie, if thou shat espie any brillantes estin­cellettes, any little sparklings forth, any glimpses and glances, shat heare any hints and relishes, that may be suita­ble to thy word-conformed spirit; and like the concurrent rayes of two apposite jewells, the concording tones of two Co-tuned instruments, might more take thee with thy owne graces, more sweeten thy soule in the sence of the divine good­nesse, and annimate thee on to a more full obedience, to a fur­ther activitie in the wayes of holinesse; I have my desire, and thou shalt not misse of thine.

Errata.

PAge 2. Line. 5. for turnes to reade turne to, p. 26. l. 3. r. sprawle, p. 28. l. 12. r. through them converse, p. 29. l. 2. r. cheare them to, p. 33. l. 17. r. thorough, p. 48. l 12. for pleasure r. heaven, p. 58. l. 6. Psal. 8.9.10. p. 65. l. 22. r. unshod wi'th', p. 66. l. 10. r. promise, p 67. l. 10. for were r. will, p. 70. l. 17. r. altar'd, p. 71. l. 18. r. for; though r. then. l. 27. r. still, p. 73. l. 16. r. glympses, p. 74. l. 5. r. hand, l. 32. r. my r'bellious flesh p. 75. l. 7. r. what's, l 10. r. followes, Creator, p. 80. l. 4. for. truth r. forth, l 31. r. heares, p. 83. l. 29. dele thou, page 91. reade line 31. and 32. after p. 92. l. 2. p. 107. l. 5. r. that, p. 108. l. 4 r. him, p. 121. before vers. 21. r. 2 Chron. 20.21.22. &c. p. 128. l. 4 r. heeles, p. 131. l. 5. r. leaven, p. 145. l. 27. r. I th', p. 148. l. 14. r. Is it, p. 152. l. 24. r. father's, p. 153. l. 9. r. as, p. 157. l. 18. r. Angelicque, l. 32. r. worlds, p. 170. l. 14. r. live, p. 175. l. 7. for false r. selfe-, p. 195. l. 1. r. Vacation.

I Call to minde my song in the night.

Psal. 77.

Admonishing one another in Psalmes and Hymnes, and spirituall Songs, singing to the Lord with grace in your hearts.

Ephes. 5.
Heaven's Harmony; the Heaven-speaking strain,
That meets in Meeter is the meeter strain.
Heaven's Harmony, and the Harmonious man
Whose Hearts's right set to God, 's the Heavenly man.
NE're drank'st thou drop of Helicon;
Nor know'st thou where Pernassus lies;
What is it then thus beares thee on
Into this vein to Poetize?
Ne're read'st thou Play; nor working Poet,
That in the weightier measures sings.
But all thy vacant houres bestowedst
In haunting of the spring of springs.
Nor usest artificiall cheare:
No fumes of Wine, brain-hopping Beere,
No swelling Ale; yet still I heare
My simple Musa round mine eare.
But whither Nympha? Warbling lie
Still in my nursing brest. Stay; where
Wu't finde wi'th' narrowest scrutiny,
A serious, sober, candid eare?
Hast found 'em? Goe; long-versed in
An Element of Purity,
Th'rt well content, thou heard and seen
O'th' purest Puritans may be.
You'll finde her like a Traveller,
I'th' Valley now, drink of the Brooke
That runs by th'way; and thence transfer
Her rising feet and mounting looke.
Then down again, deject, below;
Yet still doth sing, 'cause still doth goe;
Where never more shall be below:
Yet still doth sigh, 'cause doth but goe.
Still sigh and sing, and sing and sigh,
Still sweetly steale the love-drawne heart,
Insensibly carried to those highths
Whence it shall never more depart.

[...]:

Epict.

Every thing hath two handles; and a foole alwayes takes it by the left.

‘Quicquid recipitur, recipitur in modum recipientis.’
BIte Cynick if thou wu't,
And fill thy invenom'd gut
with poyson.
Burst Spider, if one Bee
Get one sweet smatch, 't shall be
M'rich foison.
Hence Momus, be n't so rude,
S'unmannerly to intrude.
Dar'st venture;
The House is mine, and thou
'Rt a Thiefe, I'l not allow
Thee enter.
But wu't thou break the doore?
Turn not a Paper more,
'Tis Burglarie.
Steale not a glance upon
A syllable; be gone
Thou Plagiary.

Chantez a l'asne il vous fera des coups.

BRing yee an Asse unto the Harp,
And he will at the Musick carp.
Skill hath no enemies but those
Whose pride their ignorance doth pose.
But th'man that learnes humility
Knowes Musick, for with God dwels he.
And he-and-he full sweetly agree,
Whose very tunings Musick be.
MAy never eye (great God) behold this booke,
Whose eye-affected heart with thee's not tooke.
O thou that mad'st the dead alive,
Speak but the word, these words revive.
Thou free, and freeing spirit, that blowest where,
When, as, thou list'st, O that thou wouldst blow here!
Let him that life to all things gives,
Reade to the Reader, and he lives.

Carmina secessum scribentis & otia quaerunt.

Ovid.
At Anglica nostra Carina
Pontificûm insanis exagitatur aquis.
Ac agitetur aquis, etiam cantabimus illis:
Viribus ipsa suis Roma superba ruit.
Roma superba ruit, resonant (que) Superna canorà
Voce, ruat summo pondere strata suo.
VVHat matters that from whom these Poems came?
Hee's but the silent pen that ownes the blame.
God's be the praise, the pleasant profit thine;
Bate thy mistakes, be the misprisions mine.
For whatso'ver amisse thou't see,
There wants discretion in thee or mee.
There wants discretion in thee and mee;
Beare Thou with me, as I with thee.
Thinke th 'faults are thine, Ile thinke they're mine.
And so they'll be nor mine nor thine.
While each to lay'm on th'other's loth,
They'll fall to th'ground between us both.
A politicke piece of charity,
To sweeten all in amity.

SOLILOQVIES THEOLOGICALL.

A Psalme, a Hymne, a spirituall Song,
A Ballad, and Masse-chanting tongue;
A Davids Harp, an aiery veine,
A vagrant Fiddle, vapouring straine;
Fond, wilfull, blinde, ind'stinct Devotions,
Th'inutterable sighs of faithfull Notions;
A Heaven diffused Supplicancie,
A torpid, Rome-bred Lethargie;
A pompous, gaudy Ceremony,
A Gospell-Simple decency;
Selfe-prating Priests, Christ-preaching Pauls,
Gods, and the worlds Episcopals;
These, and a thousand more resemble
Each other, each other most disresemble.
Discretion is discerning, He
That sees but white from black can't see.
But he 'tis sees, that seeth well,
That white fro'th' brightest gray can tell.
To see sins of the foulest dye
What ist? But th' fair'st, t's a spirituall eye.
Heb. 4.2. with 1 Cor. 2.14.15. [...] and Iude 19. Soulie. Betwixt the most clearly sen­suall, the most penc­tratingly rationall Soule and the Spirit.
T'divide betwixt the Soul and Spirit,
That; that the name o' discretion merits.
Disguised Vertue, Painted Vice,
The Proverbe turn'd, More wise more nice;
But he who turnes this turnes to vice,
Is nice for want of being nice:
Her's two men, both high-minded be;
'Tis pride that, this humility;
And her's two more, in feare each is,
'Tis courage that, 'tis cowardize this.
And so along of all the rest,
S' alike is good and evill drest.
Things most alike oft most unlike
Doe prove, and most unlike alike.
The wiser He that can descrie
Th'great Distance when so close they lie.
Lay right i'th'East, and wrong i'th'West
E'rie fool'd be wise-and know what's Best.
Cou'd they be clear'd by generall Rules,
Where'd be the Academicque Schooles?
But Limitings, Sublimitings,
With often Subsublimitings.
And every Action's of a Rate
As duly Circumstantiate.
Who ist that naturally wu'd not good?
Yet all all ill by nature wu'd.
And how haps this, but good and bad
Are in the same apparell clad.
Or rather 'cause our sight's so dull,
We can't the fruit fro'th' refuse cull.
'Tis hence I feare my mirth is sad,
'Tis hence I finde my griefe is glad.
'Tis hence I feele my Melancholy
Divine Delights, my Laughter Folly.
'Tis hence I all things so suspect,
And what's most pleasing most reject
Till by the touch-stone I shall trie
Whether 't be'nt th'delusion of the eye.
And what need Sences spiritualiz'd
And those so often exercised,
Were't easie to be wise, to know
The discrepance from Concords flow.
Were't easie to be wise, to know
The Concords from Discordings flow
Sages held Sots, Sots Sages be
Not view'd with perspicacity.
The
Esa [...] 3. with [...] To [...] reason, [...] gue, red [...] gue, wi [...] Ioh. 7. [...]. [...].
sights an unjust Judge, if judge
Aright he doe who all must judge.
'Tis not so subtle edg'd to decide
An haires bredth, and besides 'tis brib'd
To often blindnesse by the affections;
Thus humane light takes false inspections.
I'le ne'r believe the man that will
Believe's own eyes, but count him will
Among the Fooles, that's not acquaint
2 Thes. 3.2. [...].
With Faith the Topicks of a Saint.
Unskili'd and feigned Sounds may cheat
The Eare, Sents the Smell, the Palate meat,
Th'Touch Tangibles. There's Sophistrie
Plenty in Hell for Fallacies.
Th'world, Flesh, Divle's so Legier de main
Th'acut'st, nimbl'st Look may be mista'ne.
And when we thinke a Blow's put by
VVee're over-reach't by'a Falsisie.
Sense, Reason's grosly cozen'd, but Faith
Can never, for'ts information hath
From Truth it selfe; 't may be mista'ne,
But can't mistake. There is a vaine,
A fansied Faith. So still here's worke
For D'scretion. Snakes ith' Verdure lurk.
'Ith' Snakes rich Cordials. Who wise wu'd prove
'Mselfe, 's rarest wisdome't doth behove
T' have rarified by that great Light
That shewst the brightest day but night.
To see men both of the same Clay
And mould, and both of the same way,
Substance, and faculties of Soule,
Yet the one as faire as Heaven, as foule
As Hell the other, and if there seeme
To thee a difference, thou'd'st esteeme
The Heaven were Hell, the Hell were Heaven;
So soone so much maist be deceiven;
For what's the best morality,
But finer spun hypocrisie?
While hee'd be thought be godly too,
That with our God hath nought to doe.
So Heaven and Hell may weare th' same clothes,
The Troubles that, and this th' Repose.
Th'World's God inrob'd'n Angelicque Light,
The God of gods in sable Night.
'Tis this that hurles the world to Hell,
Because they can't the difference tell
'Twixt good and bad, 'twixt God and them.
'Tis only those that he condemnes
That know him not, but so mistake,
As that themselves their gods they make.
And so doe all that will not learne
'Twixt things that differ to discerne.
'Tis this that makes the soule as God,
T' know good and evill. I'le then plod
Upon this narrow Scrutiny
With all submissive industry.
I'le then resigne mine eyes to thee
Thou Only Wise to see for mee.
I'le be a foole, the only way
To passe for Wise another Day.
CHristian! O how I tremble at the Name
That holds the God that holds the world in frame!
O what an Earthquake-Palsey shakes my limbs!
What Spirit-intercluding feare bedims
Mine eye! What quivering Agues hurry through
My panting veines, surpris'd with chilling dewes!
I tremble, how I tremble at the Name
Christian! Shall I say so? I must, my Joy constraines,
My Joy that serves it selfe by lighter paines
With weightier comforts. I professe; Ah Lord
Make thou my Life unto my Tongue accord.
Christian! A piece of undivided Christ:
Watch soule, for if thy selfe, thou God beliest.
Off Sacrilegious hands; th'ungodlike man
Ungodly is, is not a Christian;
For God is Christ, and Christ is Man.
CReep sneaking Earthworm to thy bags of Gold,
And glutt thy greedy Panch with hungry Clay.
Climbe lofty Spider to thy Heights, take hold
Of Princes Palaces, toile night and day,
Spin out thy braines into a curious plot,
Kings, Kingdomes are but silly flies, soon caught.
And thou whose Life sayes Time was made for leisure,
Thou for an Ocean-sporting Behemoth,
To tosse, to rowle thy self in Seas of pleasure:
Yet know the Foot, the Broome, the Sluce, whose
Breakes through th' condensed'st Earth, the Aire most wrath high
Reaches, and draws the abounding'st Waters dry.
Poore! Base! Wretcht man! Are these things to compare
(That are so short, that Are not while they are)
With Him that is our Substance? With the Rare
Th'only Honor t'be his Son, his Wisdome? Th'faire
Sole-pleasing Love, whose pure Essentiall Light
Breaths flames in all with mutuall Delight.
God! Christ! Blest Spirit! Yee-Thou-Are-art mine
For ever art One With thy Self-and-Thine.

MAT. 12. 43, 44.

GOe sweep thy House, and weare out all the brooms
Of Ethicks to the stumps, collect the sweets
Of Scripture flowers; garnish, perfume thy roomes.
Thou'rt yet the Rendevous where Legion meets
And revell rout's more safe, till Christ ha'indwelt
Thee'nd kept Possession. Which had he then th'hadst felt
Thy sin-purg'd-thirsty soule draw wholy up
Thy daily draughts of his reviving Cup.
This sin-drean'd-Christ-replenisht soule's no rest
For th'unclean Spirit but the self-full brest.
OH where's a quiet Lambe, a gaulelesse Dove,
An humble soule, an all-enduring Love,
A Glorious-and-offence-by-passing man
That sweetly smiles at All the creature can?
A
Psa. 131. [...]
smoothly plained, silenc't soule abides
No
Isa. 40.4. cum Psal. 31.20.
rugged, rough excrescencies of Pride;
A fitted soule to fall in close conjunction
With God, t'apply it selfe to every function;
A patient Job, meek Moses, gentle Paul,
Upright, Gods Friend, Heavens Seer, well may y'him call;
The lively Image of his Christ
VVho was the lowliest-and-the High'st.
Blest man! Hath found the Philosophique Stone
That with a touch turnes Dunghils into Thrones,
And of a Thorny makes a Golden Crowne.
Admir'd Believer! While he'humbly laies him downe
Below th'least mercy, i'the nethmost Pit
(Walkes as a man not worthy o'the Name
He forfeited unto Eternall shame,
Not worthy t'look to th'God he sold for nought,
On any creature who all in bondage brought,
Below the lash oth' Diabolicqu'st tongue,
Satanicqu'st hand in doing, doth no, wrong)
Sits still in Heaven with Him in Heaven did sit
While in the Grave, far, far above the reach
O'th' highest reaching sins can make no breach
Upon his praising Obncords, far above
The barking or the fawning World but prove
Th'increasers of his mirth by what he felt
From their attempts while here below he dwelt.
DEny my selfe! Take! Up! My! Crosse! Each! Day!
And follow Thee! Selfe? Friends, gain, ease, name, may
Not one of these parts of my self, not all
Serve? But my self and all my self must call
Thee Lord? What, no propriety at home?
An Inmate to my self? And yet must come
And beare? Must bring my shoulders to this Crosse?
Nay stoope for't too, and that for My, My Crosse?
How lights anothers, though heavier far? And say
'Twere once ones Life? a Yeare? a Moneth? but every day!
And that including subdivided times,
As oft as he shall please recall our crimes
Unto our memory! And yet, thus loaden travell!
Nay! after perfectnesse! her's that would ravell
The fin'st spun with into a sad confusion,
To draw these premisses into a glad conclusion.
But wisdom's from above, and 'tis not nature
That sees the height, bredth, length, depth o' th' Creator,
H's incomprehensible love in Christ; How light's
The burthen? How unconceiv'd th'delights!
Thus made more capable of vaster Blisse
By these impos'd impossibilities
To flesh and blood, how much th' more room for grace,
For God, to make our soules the happier Place
Of his such wonder-working residence
That makes our Faith so far exceed our Sence,
His Spirit, his powre our own, that we might be
Th'more glorious Proofe of his Omnip'tencie.

Omnia mea mecum porto.

TIll thou canst make the Cross of Christ uncrown'd,
And snatch the Scepter from his hand confounds
Kingdomes like Potsheards, till thou canst controule
Him that shall rowle the Heavens like a scroule
And make them melt with fervent heat to give
Me passage to my high prerogative
Its full enjoyment, till thou canst untie
Or cut in two the Gordian knot where I
'M inseperably interwoaven with himselfe;
Till thou canst rob the everlasting wealth
And dry the inexhausted Spring; Or stop
The invisible Influxes, that doe drop?
That poure out
Cant. 5.16. [...]
Sweetnesses come streaming through
Their pure and undiscover'd Channell to
M'inlivened soule; th'ebbing world shall still redound
VVith flouds of overflowing comforts, ground
My soule above the reach of worldly cares,
To feast upon the sweets of heavenly fare.
LUKE 1.53.
O May I daily empty me of me.
Could'st thou but fill me daily more with Thee?
Can'st thou deny thy selfe? Or can there be
Ought good but Thee? Or be Vacuity
In Grace more then in Nature? O'make, make me
More humble, so I rise more fill'd with Thee.
Ah Lord! Now where am I! sure this is right;
I, here is that is worth the name Delight.
Here, her's a Joy that swallows all my joyes
In'ts shorelesse blisse, and over all m'annoyes
Triumphs in glorious peace, the while't imployes
It's provident security, and swerves
On neither hand, but to an haire observes
Its narrow ways untill it come t'innest
I'th' omnipresent Center of his brest.
O may I daily sill with more of Thee
T's this filling only humbles-raises me.

HUmilitie and grace are commensurable, take the depth of the one and you have the height, have all the dimentions of the other. Ex pede Herculem; So much Humilitie-so much Grace-so much God; or rather so much God-so much Grace-so much Humility (All our disposings of our selves to him being post-not predispo­sings; so farre as I spread downeward in the roote of my humble faith, so much the more nourishment I draw; and consequently thrive in bulke and stature towards the full measure of perfection in Christ Jesus.

We have according as we receive, but we receive ac­cording to our humility-the hollow of the Palme, the capacitie the capability of the hand of faith, therefore we have according to it.

Againe, Grace is the Indwelling of God in us and Humility the emptying and the unselfing us of our selves, to live in him; looke then as he comes in, (the very first forming of grace,) so we goe out; and as wee goe out so he comes in with a daily and further trans­forming us into himselfe. Or thus, Christ is the patterne of Humility, but in him dwelleth the fulnesse of the Godhead, therefore

Thc humblest man is the most gracious man,
Nay who 'twixt th'one and th'other difference can.

For indeed Grace is Humility-and Humility is Grace­is godlinesse; they having divers names in a divers re­spect, Humilitie as we are made unlike to, are outed of, our selves; Grace-and Godlinesse as made like to, as Inned in our God. The unselfdenying man therefore is the prond man-is the ungracious-the ungodly man.

Or thus, God himselfe hath so humbled himselfe, take upon him the forme of a servant, to be God-with ( Phil. 2. ver. 6, 7.) The Lord of Life hath shed blood, hath been slaine, and that on the Crosse for [...] ( Acts 3.15. 1 Cor. 11.27.) In whom it is humility looke on the Earth, to looke on the Heavens ( Psal. 11) Grace then being but what a man hath of God, it m [...] be but what he hath of humility.

The more truly then, the more kindly the Sould humbled, the more raised, the more sublimed it is, [...] cause more filled with him who is Above all; But of t [...] otherwhere God willing, the Kingdome standing, [...] not overturned by these studie-disturbing, State­stroying, Over-looking Prides.

QƲia des noixil en casse
Et qui n'en a il s'en passe.
Hee that hath Nuts, to h's teeth them puts,
Hee that hath none, lets 'em alone,
'S ne'r troubled about 'em.
Just such toyes are all the joyes
This world can give, and I can live
As well without 'em.
It is not bread whereby I'm fed,
I much may carve and yet may starve
If Nature feed not.
But on the aire I can well fare,
If God shall make me all forsake
So say they need not.
God is my portion, all this spatious world
[...]S a little-tinie Nut, that to me hurld
[...]'ve more adoe to get the Kernell forth
Then all the world as but the shell is worth;
God's in't I know, and God's without it too,
And I get him without with lesse adoe.
My Nuts are left, I'm off my childish stage,
Approach the Acme of m'eternall Age:
[...]care f'r this ratling pleasure? Counter-wealth?
These Hobby-horse Honours? For this trumpery pelte
[...]arths puling sucklings stretch your throats, I draw
My Life fro'th 'Wisdome o'the Gospel-Law.
ARise my Harp, my Heart is risen, up,
Praise him hath fill'd, hath overfill'd thy cup.
[...]rise my Heart, my Harp is risen, up,
[...]raise him hath fill'd thy praise-o'rerunning cup.
[...]eart, Harp arise, mixe your melodious notes
Whereon my soule my soule to him devotes.
[...]ow praises, vow thy selfe in praisefull blisse,
[...]y Heart the Spirit, my Harp the Organ is.
[...]ay Harp, and Heart, and sweetly both agree
[...] Him my Life, my life your Echo bee.
[...]esse Heart, Harp blesse with blest conspiracy;
[...]y Life? Earth, Heaven your constant Echo be.
SIng pretty Bird, and welcome in the Spring,
And mock my silence, heark unthankfull soule
How sweetly doth she chant it, sing on, sing
My daintiest Bird, how nimbly doth she rowle
And poure out Roundelaies, as if she wu'd
Have all at once her concords understood.
Yet pretty wretch how well she keepes the time.
How gracefully she rests; how entertaine
Her Flats with Sharps: how neatly doth she climbe
Up note by note, and run them downe againe,
VVith gentle breast breaths many a melting straine
Harke, harke unthankfull soule, what still refraine?
Rouze up, put in, thou lacking in thy part?
Refuse so just a challenge? Thou hast two Springs,
From Earth one, Heaven another, rise up my heart,
The winters past, raine gone, 'tis time to sing,
The Flowers appeare, heard is the Turtles voice,
The voice of thy Beloved, Arise, Rejoyce.
Up, meditate his praises on thy Lute
VVith a grave Higgaiion while like Seraphim
Thou burst'st int' flams; fails th' tongue 'to speak depu [...]
Thine eyes. They? Let astonisht silence him
Proclaime, wondrous in doing, in Sanctitie
Glorious, in praises fearefull, I praise Thee?
Holy! Holy! Holy! Lord God of Rest,
My rest! yet restlesse I, how faine wu'd speake
But so o're powerd with dazling Light so prest
VVith Humbling weight of Massie Glory breake
M'imprisoning earth claime climbe my high degree
Glory in its El'ment can't too heavy be.
O turne away thine eye! No, turne mine eye
To a refulgent Sun, whose steady view
May feast upon unmixed Entitie
'S uncircumscribed, and uncoulerd Hew,
Till
Ps. 14.5. [...] complecti­tur copiam & affluen­tiam Flu­minis & Luminis cum celeri­tate, luben­tia, ac pro­nitate. Fosterus.
whelm'd in living floods of streaming beames
I rise, far, far above these dunghill-steames.
To sing Blest God, who to thy Pure in heart,
I'th' Sight of Thee all blessings dost impart.
LOrd I believe, O help my unbeliefe:
My sins are great, therefore my sins remit,
Are thy thoughts, thy wayes mine? To see the Chiefe
Of sinners Chiefe of Saints, a work befit
Such free! full grace! O how my soule admires!
Rapt up in wonders, lost in large desires!
How I expatiate in this Infinite.
I stretch, I retch and yet still more's before
Still I put out my selfe, so from Selfe quite
Am drawne; most happy losse to finde such store;
I've lost my empty Barke
[...].
swift sailing come
Inrich't with Glory to my Glorious Home.
Tosse World thy waves, Heart harker for thy Earth,
Blow Divle thy blasts. He, he is in my Barke
Shall quit me of you all. Ravisht with mirth
While to my Husband-Pilots Loves I harke
With full assarance fleetly glide along
Long longing t'sing that overlasting long
Hallelujah!
Hallelujah!
— But must I rest? I heare
A harshned touch? what interchange here needs?
Or have I so fastidious an eare?
Or i'st Variety my joyings feeds
But that, that's Grounded on Simplicity?
In Jah's the confluence of all Harmony.
T'S a Princely Fabrick This. What curious rowes
Of glittering windows! stately Batiements!
How well compact, proportion'd, trim it showes
A Master-piece of Arts imbellishments!
And what a bredth and length it runs, as high
As if it wu'd the spangled Cope outvie
In lofty glory! And if within you prie,
How neatly furnisht with rich Utensils,
How gorgeous deckt with broidred Tapestry,
What Paintings, Carvings, Guildings! What so e're fills
Th'eyes with content. Yet be the Seat unsound
Foundation shallow soon't salutes the ground.
This Palace Thou perkt up to Heaven, adorn'st
Thee'n specious self-admired Parts, and scorn'st
Thy neighbouring Underling whose humble heart
Shall raise his praise as choosing th'Better part.
Who deeply founded on his Rock outstands
The proudest structure on the crumbling sands,
That over-charg'd with its owne pondeur, shall
With lower-shooting violences fall
Intomb'd in its owne ruines 'ith'Abysse
'T wixt which and Heaven the vastest Chasma is.
BEE proud who can? Dost constant use to bow
Thy serious minde by an intentive view
Of God? How Great! How Good! Vile! Sinfull thou!
Mercies how excellnnt! and those not few!
God! Man! Mercie! Such! from Such! to such a man?
These, and their Suches Weighed So, Where's the man?
NO, All. And now what letts what's now between?
Why not now joyne, claspe in a mutuall close
And twine in full embraces? Why not lose
My Name my Life in Thee, so ever bee
With Thee with Thee the only Heaven I'd see.
— No, No, All, All be gone
For I have lost have lost my selfe in One.
For ever ever Lord; that I may feare
No more to be my self but still be here.
And if thy wisdome see my foolish heart
Wu'd surfet on thy kisses and convert
This Grace to wantonnesse, shu'dst still impart
Unsowred sweets, yet though our lips must part
(But shall they part?) never, never shall our hands;
Though then in Hell I be yet what withstands
But I may Vault my self to Heaven on This hold
Whose touch is strength, whose strength is uncontrol'd.
I Wonder how I live! I'm but a Shade,
A Ghost. Doe dead men eat? then I'le eat too.
My life is hid with Christ in God, I'm made
To men a stranger, to my self, nor doe
I know ought aft'r th'flesh, live in the Spirit,
Survey the Glories that I Now inherit.
How black's this Sun! how grim a night this cleare
This flearing day! O what an Aegypt's here
While in my Heaven-illumin'd Goshen stand
I viewing the palpablely-obscured land.
Which did they feel it as they think they see't
How to our Dwellings wu'd they speed their feet!
But still the world's the world. When shall I see
The Sun, the Day that make these thus to mee?
I see, else knew I not these thus, wu'd see
More, yet more that more knowing I might be;
I see, but oft a cloud intrudes between,
And make's me say 'tis darknesse to have seen.
I see, one beam through th'Cranie blear's mine eye,
When all are pointed there O where am I!
My Light shall strength my sight, nay I shall be
All light, for as He is I shall Him see.
No Dark of Folly-Sin-Sorrow shall there bee
VVhen I Allight Allight shall Alwaies see.
ACTS 10.10. [...].
'TIs good 'tis good being Here. Shall I go downe?
Shall I goe eat whose stomack kindly swels
VVith, for, by, Food-indeed? Shall I goe drowne
My Faith in Sence? Or may my spirits as well
Be lost as dull'd? so too the work not hast?
Then goe flesh, goe, but dip, but sip, but Tast.
Goe not unenvyed of those precious houres
VVherein thou laiest me out for dead, and yet
Extortest more for Life where funerall flowers
Are welcome sweetes. — But what a sad regret
Comes over, if not overcomes my spirit
To heare them talk of straws, that Thrones inherit.
Nay, t'heare them talk like two wh'ave but one soul,
Bound for the same Heaven-Voyage, They fall foule?
Keep up my Faith, and there the while thee feed,
VVhere when I am, no more I food shall need.
Keep up my Faith and talke thee there the while
Where when I am this feare shall be my Spoile.
Keep up my Faith and then I may goe downe
And through my Crosse the better view my Crowne.
HOw is my soule distracted with content!
How full of Joyes, and yet how fill'd with Griefe!
How well compos'd my heart, and yet how rent!
How often straights, and yet as oft reliefe!
Impatient of delaies I patient stay:
Oh come away deare Lord I'le not away.
The more I have the more I still desire;
The more I still desire the more I have.
Thrice happy thirst whereby I so acquire
The drinke who drinkes he never more shall crave.
I aske no more but this, but more of this;
No more, this th'only blisse, more, still there's misse.
Oh could I ever dwell where I have been,
Or once could be where I shall ever dwell;
In Kedars Tents I mourne, when I have seen
Th'Invisible, how soon my heaven to hell
Is turn'd? The only hell that I can see
To see the face reflects no God on me.
Cast me into those Roomes of this great Inne
Where I may heare them talke that talke of Home
And when these worldlings which thee ne'r have seen
Chance in my-thy appointed way to come,
Oh iet me be so prepossest with thee
Hearing I may not heare, nor seeing see.
When highest I arise I lowest fall,
And when I lowest fall I highest rise;
The higher, my sin and shame me more appall;
The lower, the greater's mercy in mine eyes.
I fall rise, rise fall, move, but nev'r remove,
So stedfast am I founded on his love.
Mount up my spirit! what not Higher yet?
Yet Higher, Higher yet, this is too low,
Till quite above my selfe advanc'd I get
Where my New self shall me His Glory show;
In this third Region shall my Eagles eye
Th'unclouded splendour of his face descrie.
Before I heard but Now, I Now behold
Those holy beauties that first struck me dead;
Those holy beauties that first did unfold
The riches of my life; thus, thus is bred
Death out of Life, Life out of Death, by his Light
More black's mydark, mydark his Light more bright.
Oh how I love to love such
Desira­blenesses. [...] Can. 5.16.
Lovelinesses
As Thou art Altogether! how I hate
My selfe I cannot love! oh th'expedite distresses
That my self-jealous soule doe intricate!
Cares! Cleerings! Feares! Desires! Zeale! Indignation!
Revenge! one smile caus'd, cur'd, blest perturbation!
By'agreeing discord how delight's augmented!
By these harsh touches how well grac't the close
VVith a full harmony! never be repented
Shall this Repentance. VVhen thou dost Lord compose
A heart thus broken, 'tis then an instrument
(And ne'r till then) can give thine ears content.
For never thou (pleas'd with thy self alone)
Break'st one in two, but bring'st two, hearts in one.
So am I whole again, 'cause one with Thee,
So love my self, 'cause Loving, Lov'd of Thee.
O VVhat a Consort is thy Word,
VVhen Place falls into Place.
O what a Beauty is thy VVord,
VVhen Grace is matcht to Grace!
But what a What then is That Word
That shews all Face to Face!
HOw faire a Casket is thy VVord!
VVhat broken sparkes it doth afford
From every corner to invite
My eyes to frequenter delight!
My eyes, my wondering eyes to see
Such radiant Christianity!
Cu'd I but sett these sparks in one,
VVhat floods of lustre thence were flow'n!
One's worth a world, Heaven, Earth shall passe,
But an Iöta shall surpasse.
All saw I'n that one precious stone
How full-rich-pleasant Glory's shown?
How I more joy my sale of all
Hath got m'one Pearle is more than all.
O Let thy Pleasantnesses be
Ps. 90.17 Amoeni­tates.
Upon me Lord, how I shall flie
About thy businesse, how I'le fight
VVith oppositions, and delight
My self and thee with praise in all,
Thus speeds the works thus on thee call.
And what's the Beauty that doth so?
Oh who will lead me to that show,
And tell me yet What is my Christ
In whom all Beauties are compriz'd,
And whence if they receive not light
They're but the devill drest in white.
FRowne scowling VVorld, frown, I deride the brow
Of all thy bended powres, and scorn to bow
Before the kneenest shafts o'th' fatal'st look
VVherewith thy worldling's in a trembling shook.
Still look't I for these lookes, and therefore Arm'd
Me with the Armour ever keeps unharm'd.
And for thy favours, they're beneath th'desire
Of him whose Heart-and-Treasure's far, far higher.
Here while I keep me and not walk below
My selfe, what petty nothings all things show
At their due distance? and how Vast the Glories
Seen in their place and not read o're for Stories;
HOw vaine is restlesse man!
Tost too and fro with Passions, hurl'd
A Tennis-ball throughout the World!
Now on he flies, straite's beaten back again,
On this side now, now that, but still in Vain.
How vaine is restlesse man!
You know not where to have him found;
His earthy thoughts now creep the ground,
Now up an hoight he flies, hee'le over all
Till caught in h's net or lost in's miring fall.
How! how unhappie's man!
How far his motion from his Line
His rulelesse course from what's divine!
Wu'd he but leave himself in's Saviours hand
How steedy seemly sure hee'd him command?
How worse then wretched man!
Hee'd ne'r keep such a Racquet, ne'r come neere
The Hazzard cou'd he tell where Heaven were.
Cou'd his Experience tell 'twere in his Heart
And's Heart in it, 'twere a mysterious Art
Of Peace and Righteous joy, how quicki' hee'd part
With toilsome Mock-blisse, to be truly blest
Hee'd pleasure in his Rich and Glorious Rest.
GOe Till the Garden man. Lord I shu'd learne
Thy ten Commandements, the Creed, thy Prayer
Before the World, but I have these to learne
Old Childe! These known then knew I Thee, and were
That known I knew the World and All, in All
I'm short, Thee first I'le learn. so All.
Thou art the only Agent act'st and yet
Not suffer'st by the Patient might I be
More Thee, then only might I be more fit
To work on that that else wu'd work on me
And worldly make who doe desire to make
The World more godly and the World forsake.
While make my Calling as a Christian
The soule to act my Calling as a Man.
GOe Molelike Christian to the Heathen Eagle,
Thence take instructions how to disinveagle
Thy earth beclogged spirits, while thou soar'st
Thy stately heaven approaching flight and poar'st
Thence (if thou wu't poare on't) upon this so
Admired nothing, which if ought it show
Thou't see a little-tyney Hill of petty Ants
Providing for their still successive wants
With crawling up and down to tug and haule,
O'reburdning and o'retumbling luggage, crawle
Never up again but here and there a few
With much adoe, some Portering Feather-beds
Tortured with pleasures, some loading of their heads
With break-neck Crowns, some mumbling at the Mines
Of poore Peru, while one or two divines
The end of this confused moyle, gets wings
And practises to flie to Nobler things,
O wu'dst thou mount thee from this dungie Globe
To those Celestiall Regions there inrobe
Thee with thy Royall vestures tishued Gold
And take the Potent Scepters uncontroul'd
Thy sacred Temple's bound wi' illustrious Gemms
Adorne the endlesse Circle of the Diadems
The handy work of the Eternall wrought
Before the world, thou'tst say the world was Nought,
Was worse then Nought, was Naught, wu'dst take
The faster gripes o'th'Kingdome ne'r can shake,
The undefil'd Inheritance, where the
Pure Heavenly soule's Inheaven'd in Purity.
Fond soule that ever bat'st the wing to know
Again the evils of the Goods below.
Is Heaven beneath the Moon? what do'st above?
But ist above? what do'st thou Fondling move
Thy happy station? What want'st thou there unlesse
Eyes to behold thy blisse, and tongues to blesse?
Here gaze, admire, adore, and ne'r descend
Hers entertainment that hath neither end
In choice nor time; all Goods resolv'd into
Their Simple-and-Eternall Beeing; who
But mad wu'd stoop to catch a fleeting shade
That hath the substance that will never fade?
But art thou call'd away? What Calling ist
Whereby thy given heart may be dismist
From its true Owner? What Imployment ist?
Is't not a God-enjoyment where Earth hath
No soule but Heaven, and Sence no Life but Faith
No quickning Flesh but Spirit? Hee's à la mort
If Christ his strengthening influence don't resort
Into his Carka'st actions, who what e're
H's Thoughts, Words, Deeds do, doth in, & as he bears,
His Name, from His Command, through His Powre, for
His sake, from whom, and thorough whom, and for
Whom All things are, his Life doth hold him forth
To th'world as th'Name the Thing its Nature's worth.
Thus moves in these inferiour Spheares by th'bent
O'th'Highest Mover, Ascends in his Descent.
Goe then about thy businesses, but know
Hee's not about his businesse that's below,
Eat, sleep, work,'r not, still doe to, be with, God
God cloath'd i'th' Creature and a naked God.
The great contrivement of a godly aime
To see'im in divers shapes and still the Same,
God manifest i'th'Flesh, is in the Flesh
Immanuel; mysterious godlinesse!
Here then's the top of that so rare an Art,
T'keep th'Heart in Heaven, or Heaven i'the Heart.

1 TIM. 4.15. [...].

CAn they concoct well that not use to chew?
Disgest that not concoct? assimulate
That not disgest? Hence 'tis so few
The Word into their Soules incorporate.
Hence 'tis ensues a prophane atrophie,
Or hypocriticall cacochymy.
I'le meditate, be wholly in this thing
Or else to none'll appeare my profiting.
Appeare I must or cannot be, must feare
Must meditate lest that I but appeare.
INwrap thy self in meditations, then
Goe forth and through them. Converse with men.
That nothing finde thee naked but s'invest
With heavenly apprehensions that the least
Insinuating aire of the subtle world
May finde no passage, nor the storme that's hurl'd
About thine eares; but thou thus wholly receiven
Up to thy God maist be a walking Heaven.
MY soule's Opace, but may it be the Moone
Unto the Sun of Righteousnesse; full soone
I'le then reflect upon the world those Rayes,
In thy waies cleare them, cleare them to thy praise.
Cast glimpses from that glorious Orbe of Light
To guide them glade them through this dismall night.
This black-Prince-ruled world, but where in thine
Thy Word, Saints, Spirit thou art pleas'd to shine.
My soul is dark my brightest light but dim,
This yet's my joy, all I have, I have from Him.
VVith Wanes and Changes now I oft decline,
But in the Full shall shortly ever shine.
Freed from this Leasehold earth, this shady night,
Fully possesse? possessed by the Light
VVhose beaming favours from his Darkelesse face
Condign'd his Choice Coheires of Glorious Grace.
I See no light, and yet so much I see
As darkes all other lights; I feele no love,
And yet so much I feele as makes me flee
All other loves; when other joyes can't move
My heart that sad perplexities annoyes
I joy this griefe and grieve all other joyes.
Lord art thou gone? What shalt thou so be lost?
Thy glorious eye into this heart hath sent
The spark, hath took the whole, an Holocaust
It restlesse mounts unto its Element.
Fire of the Spirit it is, 'twill make no stay
Till to the Spirit of fire't hath burnt its way.
Shew me the Father and it shall suffice,
Whom ne'r man saw, and liv'd; yet seen of men.
If death wu'd doe it, 'twere well for wicked eyes.
Nor dead, nor living, yet seen of men, how then?
Dead, and alive in thee, and by thy Light
I feed on that full satisfying sight.
'Tis not the predisposed Organ here
That needs; the Medium of a Mediator
Quicks deadned eyes, th'obscured Object cleares,
To th'lightlesse Creature the great Light Creator.
Here see I all I'd have, the world is want,
The Bed's too short, the Coverings are too scant.
BLack thoughts? as black as hell, and yet more black
Their paines extort their lies. Not Good? What lack
Hast thou of all content but only this
I cannot see, not say Good, Good He is.
Mad thoughts! As mad as Hell, and what's more mad
Then to confesse He is and yet is bad?
More reason's in m'unreasonablenesse
VVhen say there is no God, then not confesse
Him Good, Him only Good. O could I thinke
My heart so gone in love, so brought to'th' brinke
Of those Celestiall Rivers thence shu'd shrink,
And steale me to th'infernall Lake? I think
VVho did so deeply of his goodnesse drink
That this was in my heart, my heart in Heaven?
Ne'r will I trust what hath me so deceiven.
No, no, nor what I say for if I doe,
'Twill cheat me in That Resolution too.
Ah Lord what wo'nt I do? whom even now
Thou feasted'st with the sweets of God? yet how
How soon my mouth was full of gaulie taste,
That thou shu'dst throw away the world as waste,
And Fire-fit refuse, yet so sure combine
Me in that Jesu bundle of Life with Thine
Elect who'st room enough in Him for all,
Or might'st have kept them from their former fall.
Blest God! 'tis therefore that I love thee so,
That thou these wise-hid-depths to Babes wu'dst show,
(VVhen Fools proud wisdome scorns to stoop so low.)
Thou nothing do'st because 'tis Good, 'tis Good
Because Thou do'st it. Thy good pleasure wu'd
That this be so; even so be it, who will
Doe what They will, may thank themselves for th'ill
Ensu's, but what Thou wu't, Thy grace;
VVho'rt plac'd to dwell in Satans Place.
O love! The God of glory Come
(Good God!) in th'unclean Spirits room.
VVhat am I Lord? And what thy whole
Creation? That Thou shu'dst condole
VVer't but a Man! but Millions! so condole!
As t'beare the Shame, Blame, Death the whole
Evils of thy Sainted Rebels, whom
Justice judg'd meriting one doome!
Love! Goodnesse! shu'd I praise extend
Unto its due, I shu'd ne'r end.
Nor wu'd, nor will, but make my dayes
Expire in Panegyrick laycs.
TEach me Thy Foolish wisdome Lord, and let
The blindfold world choose wiser Follies, set
My heart in frame to Learn-Love-Doe Thy will
To feare to Think, Speak, Act, the smallest ill.
Here wisdome takes beginning only Here,
Where feare shall teach me wisdome, wisdome feare.
Thou art Only-Wise-Immortall God, and He
That's taught of Thee, but only taught is he
VVhose humble feare dives in those depths too deep
For haughty Ignorance. Sleep fondlings sleep,
And hug your dreames of wit, but when you wake
You'le dearely rue your obstinate mistake.
HOw pleasantly I weare away my dayes
I'th' sence o'renewed strength! My strength decaies
And rises by his ruines. I melt away
How sweetly melt! still drop proud flesh defray
Your marrow to maintain these flames, still burne
Ble'st spirit burne, me all to fire turne.
Thoughts will prey on my spirits, life will away,
Then live my sprightfull thoughts on your decay,
Life! Life of Lives! 'Tis only Then I Live
VVhen ready stand prepar'd with Joy to give
Up my Accompt, and speed me to that day
That gives me Life Indeed because for Aye.
O When shall I put off these fleshly Clothes,
And in my Earthy Bed take sweet repose,
Untill that Morning come, that Holy day
In holy Pleasures I shall ever Play
On well tun'd Heart that Heart inamouring ditty
That is the Consort of that Heavenly Citie.
Even so Lord Jesus Come, when breakes the day
Show's us Thy face, the shadow's flowne away?
Even so Lord Jesus Come, when breakes the day?
Amen, Amen the Bride and Spirit say.
I Come, I Come, so come that we may come
Riding o'th' Cloudes unto our Fathers Home.
MElt in thy Fire my Earth, blest Spirit blow
M'into a Glasse, through whose transparent pores
My radiant streames of holy luster flow
Into my light-enliv'ned soule, now poares
On those dim glimmerings thorough this darksom dust
Yet more ob scured by th'False-lights of Lusts.
More then, more strong be those thy glorious rayes
To lift my heart up to thy heavenly wayes;
Till thou shalt spiritualize my very flesh,
And make my glorious body see no lesse,
I Cannot hold, so full, so full of Thee
Sweet Father, help, the more's the Revelation
Of Truth, the more, th'more strong the test'mony
Of love, the more, th'more strong is the temptation.
My Love burnes still, and from that fire comes light
Restores the day unto my darkest Night.
For still I say, I know I'm ignorant
And very bad, but Thou art Wise and Good.
I can't but love Thee, Thy Love-Letter I can't
But I must reade, thus Truth is understood
Receiv'd with love without delusion, so
By knowing I learn to Love, by loving Know.
A holy Life's the clearest Commentary
I finde o'th' sacred Text, the Spirit's actuall
Interpretation. 'T unites what seemes contrary,
Parts One in Two; show's how 'tis, it doth call
Griefe joyfull, faithfull feare, lofty humblenesse
Destinguisheth of Prayer, Faith, show's who confesse.
Who makes the Word a Lanthorn to his feet
God to his pathes to mak't a Light think's meet.
HOw giddy I am with viewing the Sea! I'd know
Why Thou't so ebb to some, to some so flow.
Why this mans left, the other Love doth take?
But woe t'him dares debate with h's Maker make.
O Thy Wise-knowing depth's unsounded be,
Since I cannot take Thee, take, take Thou mee.
Into Thy mercies Ocean be I receiven,
I know 'twill beare me to my Haven Heaven.
That shall declare Thy righteousnesse, that shall
Thy Judgements manifest, God's Judge of All,
Great! Wonderfull Thy Workes! Just, true Thy Waies
Shall be the ditty of Thy worthy Praise.
MY Head's lost in my Heart; sure I'm in love,
Forget all, yea, m'own thoughts while thus above.
And now what's this steales slily in my head
My spirits thus in my heart concentered?
Don't I believe? My heart, my life wo'nt say it,
And for my thoughts, what need I so much weigh it?
Thoughts oft confound themselves, I love, I live,
The God the Life that none but Christ can give.
Am crucified, dead, buried, risen, ascended,
Begin the Life that never shall he ended.
MY Head doth ake, and yet my Head
Doth feel no pain.
My Head is well, and yet my Head
Doth still complain.
Well, I'le goe lay it on my Husbands knee
Where stroake it with His gentle hand shall Hee.
His Palm's a medecine Soveraign;
If He but touch
The Feaver leaves, if He refrain
Yet I'le not grutch;
Ther's somewhat in't, He's Wise, Good, ake's't still? well,
'Ts Thy mercy Lord 't shall never ake in Hell.
Ne'r ake in Hell? then ever in Heaven
Triumph o're griefe.
And sha'nt this all thy Sowers unleav'n
With sweet reliefe?
But weigh them well they'le overpoise them quite;
What's Earth to Heaven? Finite to Infinite?
And now my Faith what do'st? where art?
What? Yeeld to Sence?
Or hast forgot thy Heavenly Art
How to dispence
Joyes suiting every sorrow? I wonder too
Wer't in the Martyrs flames how Then Thou'dst doe.
Lord give me strength, and Thou shalt take the praise,
Lord take my strength, and That shall give Me praise.
NOw mouldring Earth, why hang'st the head?
Hast not a Soul? why? why so dead?
Or shal't be more enslaved by
Thy pains, whose pleasures conquered lie?
No, no, 'tis more ingenuous bred,
With courage as well as wisdome sped.
My spirit (not mine) 's egregious, I
'M among the Exc'llent, who so high
That I not Aemulate? And can
I'ndure to see a Publican
Thus match me? He can blesse i'th' warme
Sun, but I'd blesse i'th' sharpest storme.
I'd pray, I'd praise my paines away,
And lull my griefe asleep, a way
Of sweet successe. I'd drown my swine,
This touchy grunting grumbling repine
In my own waving passions. Swage
By reg'lar passions, passions rage;
By this my heavenly indignation
Appease this earth-fum'd perturbation,
Attempts to Shipwrack peace in vain
That still's afloat o'th' calmed Plaine.
Thy breath the windes did blow away,
Thy Word the boistrous billows stay.
Thou said'st I shu'd do greater things,
For Faith in 'ts power all things brings,
Thou'dst be commanded by 't, I shu'd
B'as sure of what so e're is good
As if thou wert at their Commands
Who humbly-bold wait, watch, thy hands,
But I wu'd doe what thou hast done,
I'd make dim eyes play with the Sun.
Dead spirits from their graves wu'd bring,
And make deaf eares to heare them sing;
This dumb-grown tongue thy wonders tel,
I wu'd doe all things wondrous well;
I'd th'lowest dullest flatnesse raise
To th'highest tones of clearest praise.
I'd fighting humours reconcile,
But if they'le fight, I'd feast the while.
I'd tune distempers to thy praise,
Turn cloudy nights to Sun-shine dayes,
Teach fainting hands to ring applaud,
And parched bones to spring with laud;
Smooth wrinkling gripings with a smile,
But if they wo'nt I'd sing the while,
How ere it be yet Thou art good
And better ditty I ne're wu'd.
Hold up declining Armes, hold up,
Poure praises from an empty Cup;
For Grace is no more void then Nature,
Where th' creature wants, ther's the Creator,
Where that goes out, there He comes in
As well as where there goes out sin.
When then there's place thats empty o'thee,
Then, not till then I'le empty be,
Thy presence then when Thou sha't cease,
Then, not till then, I'le cease to blesse.
(Then never sha't Thou be unblest
By him wh'hath thee a constant Guest,
Though in the dark a while we be,
Yet cause I see the Dark, I see.)
The world, or want, All's one to me,
The while in either I ha'thee,
M'thinkes I can't but often pray
That thou wu'dst take this world away,
For while 'tis seen it bars my sight,
And I finde faith the sweet'st delight.
But all thy counsels have their beauty,
And all my comfort's in my duty;
For thou hast taught my faith the way
Through all to passe t' m'eternall stay
Thee! Thee! O wu'dst thou take me now
Thy childe, that to thine armes doth bow
Its straining soule, loth to be held
By th'world in'ts pleasing'st usage yeelds
But paines. O Thou that all things made
And can'st revive them when they fade.
Thou that the Chaos fram'dst so faire,
And from foure discords match't so rare
A set of healthy harmony,
Can'st when thou please make all agree.
And what's my Musick but thy pleasure,
And but thy selfe what is my treasure?
Then let it goe, and goe my health,
So will's my musick so my wealth.
Be packing, packing, get thee gone,
No more dear friend, He's all or none:
Be packing, packing, get thee gone,
No more deare health Hee's all or none:
Be packing, packing, get thee gone.
No more deare self, He's all or none:
Be packing, packing, get thee gone,
No more deare Nothing He's all or none.
'Tis very well then I am ill
If this be ill, be I so still;
Till thou sha't see it fit to tell
M'its very well that I am well.
'Tis very well friend I thee misse,
The misse o'th' world's a world of Blisse.
Leave out thou sai'st this paltry Crotchet,
'Twill sound but ill, and shall I botch it
Into the Song, sound it as 'twill,
And so say I ha'th'better skill?
How too it grates my curious eares,
My tender Bowels wracks, and teares
M'observant head, sets m'teeth on edge
Against my self essay'd t'abridge
My joy, my stretching it besides
Thy Will, where all my joy resides.
And when all's done so must I play,
The sweet the while lost by delay.
Strike off the sin, strike as thou please,
Blot out th'offence, I seek not ease.
And yet my ease because it is
Thy pleasure t'keep me still in Blisse.
My ease, my pleasure therefore is,
Or strike, or not, I'm still in Blisse.
Nay this my ease, my pleasure is,
Strike or forbeare the hand is His.
Thankes! thankes! Think'st th'Angels now are still?
The just mens perfect spirits sill
Not Heaven with their chanting voice?
Thou'rt o'the Choire my soul, rejoyce,
Thou maist, thou must praise with the gods,
The God makes musique with his rods.
He's one Entire, Pure, Perfect Happinesse,
No shaddo' o' change, in him thou art, e're Blest, e're Blesse.

2 KINGS 4.

ONce was I dead, Authority then brought,
Applyed thy Word, but nought, till Thou cam'st, wrought.
And now I languish i' this fainting fit,
The meanes begun my life best strengthens it.
Come lay then eyes to eyes, mouth, hands, that I
May see, sing, doe, more wonders till I die
To see, to sing, to doe thy Will above
As here to have it seen, sung, done, I love.
VVHen I lov'd death, and ran away from life,
My wanton Circuits for some fresher sin,
Mercy pursued, o'retooke, and with its strife
Inclin'd my will to know God Good againe.
Good God! and now I feare to step awry
Thy hand's as neare as thy ne'r slumbering eye.
I stumble, but not fall; fall, off not fall;
That, shoots me the more forward, upward this;
Obliquely I ascend; why, why at all
Dear'st God? O love, O feare the Lord that is
So wondrous good! O feare th'least temporall misse
Of such a friend secures Eternall blisse.
Ne're leave me! such company! such for ever!
Infinite simplicity of joyes! I sever
My self a moment for a momentary
Shadow of blisse? These thoughts first must I vary.
Eternity is little enough t'imploy
In him and shall I bate a moments joy?
Avant false loves, I'le lose you All for Ever
E're I will misse a minute of this pleasure,
To lie infolded in my Saviours armes,
To feast upon his kisses while he warmes
He melts my soule into his melting armes,
Presumptuous Rivals still your Syren charmes,
My soul is at her heighths and cannot stoop
To lend an eare to your inchanting Cup.
No, no, I've Nectar, I have Flagons here,
One drop's enough ten thousand Worlds to reare
As far above themselves as now they are
Below Him who is only worth compare.
Feed Sensualist on dreames of aiery Thrones,
Of golden Mountaines, and of pleasure Own's
No parallel; but give me leave to tell
The, 'hadst been in Heaven, thoud'st say thou art in Hell.
VVho ere was thus imbedded in Thy breast
Deare Lord and could finde other where his rest?
His Rest that moves in such an endlesse sweet
VVhere all the Spirits of the Godhead meet
VVith my diffused soul entwines it self
In fresh rencounters with'ts imbettering Self.
I'M in a straite, prest hard on either hand,
I both wayes hast and yet am at a stand.
I, here is Christ, but there is more of Christ,
Here in my mouth and heart, but there is nigh'st.
VVhat ist but love can keep me from the sight
The perfect sight of my select delight?
But love's obedient, if thou't bid me goe
And travell on this Pilgrimage below,
Doe, suffer, seaven and seaven yeares, so to show
How grounded's my affection, that 'tis no
Fond fancy that the giddy world deceives,
I goe, I run, I flie, yet give me leave
To beare thy Picture next my heart, to looke
Upon th'adored Beauties of thy Book;
That they may be the covering of mine eyes
So to preoccupy them from these lies.
O glories! Can I hold! Can I refraine?
But still thou sai'st, and therefore I, Remain.
Love's not its own, lives in'ts Belov'd, thinkes good
Not what the Subject but the Object wu'd.
COntent to live, but covetous to die,
Glad here to doe more good, but more to flie
Above these sad temptations to doe ill.
Yet covetous again of life to fill
Heaven with more saved soules, and yet againe
Death, not t'occasion more Hell filling sin.
Thus while I waver in this blessed doubt,
This blest propensity thus helps me out
Lord while thou wu't I'd live, and when thou wu't
I'd die, my humble soul learn'd at the foot
Of my deare Jesu, no true rule's t'be had
To judge of right and wrong, of good and bad
But by thy Will and Nill.
Thus living die I still,
And dying live; thus m'will he gives
In both, because I die and live.
Beset with Heaven on every hand
Prepar'd for Heaven thy Command.

HIgh and happy is that pitch of Christianity that can so well reconcile the greatest of enemies, Life and Death, as that they both friendly take up their lodgings in the same Breast, and see themselves entertained with the same respect, at the same time, without the least grudging or repining at each other. The heart not vexed with any partiall peremptory desires of either. But they quietly residing in it, and officiously waiting on it with a dexterous serviceablenesse, to discharge either of their duties according to the good pleasure of God, signified to the God-well-pleased soule. Then is a Christian like Himselfe, when he hath that power over himselfe, as to walke with his life in his hand, as ready at the least sound of the word given, either to lay it down, or put it up [Page 45]againe in his heart. When he weares it loose about him like an outer garment, ready to slip on and off as occa­sion serves. This is the onely man that is fit to Live, who is fit to Die, and fit to Die, who is fit to Live. He that knowes how to Live hereafter is well prepared how to Live here, and hee is not prepared to depart hence, that knowes not how to Live hereafter. He that knowes no difference betwixt earth and heaven, but more and lesse of God, as he can not but be continually making more after heaven, because after more of God; so can he not but be as willing to stay on the earth, while it is more agreeable to the will of God which is Himself the Hea­ven of a Christian. Blessed! blessed soule thus sented in his God! To whom the sound of the feete of death are delightfull, and the drawing out of his dayes is pleasant. When the withering'st age detaines not too long in life, nor the flourishing'st youth hastens too soone to death. As he that crowned with all the pomps and pleasures that the fragrant'st, the fertilest Garden of the world can afford, see's nothing in the whole but meere vanity, meere nothingnesse, lesse than nothing. And on the other hand, cast forth into the driest and barrend'st Wilder­nesse, the vast and howling Desart, still digges up Foun­taines of everliving and never exhausted waters, and makes his Bacha his Baracha, his vale of teares a moun­taine of praises, as Psal. 84. [...], drinking Him for his Spring who is the Lord of Life and Glory.

SEest how this string untoucht doth quickly stir.
At th'sound of that? they not, who're not so far?
Where are the soundings of thy Bowels Lord?
Our Bowels sound, and shall not thine accord?
They touch Thee not, but thine eyes-apple they touch,
And wu't not stir when their presumption's such?
And though we cannot move our neighbours heart,
Yet in our griefe wu't not thou beare thy part?
Thou art our Father. Oh let there never be
Even in Inanimates more Simpathy.
Forget her Childe a mother may, yet not
Thou thine, for if they are, thy selfe's forgot.
Draw out our Soules, and make us follow thee,
For where thou art, there only, there are we.
ENough Lord,
July 1640.
Mercy enough, take my life from me,
I better than my Fathers? No, s'bad, I'd die.
Were I left only. Yet were I still with Thee.
But I'm so fickle, s'inconstant; one while I
Conquer Philistims, break through all, but then
My strength is gone, and I'm like other men.
[...] renew'd, and now had I
[...] I'd so imploy
[...] [...]ation
Go their [...]
Exalts it self above the highest Throne,
And sweeps down Stars, whose lustre hath outshone
Their artificiall Fires, and made their Light
Appeare th'ditch-plunging Vapours of the Night.
Lull'd were wee fast asleep while they Us shave,
But in thy Name wee'le valiantly behave
Our selves, wee've strength an t'spare, wee'le be, more be
Than Conquerours, yea shortly on Them see,
Wh'have long depriv'd us of our sight, and made
Us grinde the grist keeps up the Romish Trade,
And now wee'z make them sport, but such as makes
Them and their Conclave feele their Downfall shakes.
Down, down it goes this Lordly Machination
On their own Lordlesse hearts, this reputation
Have all His Saints; let not the vision be
Prolonged Lord. When, when shall I once see
These Cockatrices Egges, These Spiders webbs,
Crush't and swept down? This Flood even now it ebbs
While't more Rebellion then the Ocean sounds,
That curbs its proud Waves by its Makers bounds.
Is'nt th'Myst'ry of Iniqu'tie's Measure found
Orerunning th'brim? strik't, strik't, and throw't to th' ground.
O when's That's Shortly Thou't under our feete contrite
All desperate haters of Thy holy Might!
SWell on proud Toad, and with thy swelling burst.
Spit venome still, I've m'Antidote. How say'st?
I can't indur't? Nor He thee thou accur'st,
That blest the meek; I wonder how thou pray'st?
Thy Will be done? What? Wu't th' prerogative
'S His Glory? To none other will He give.
A Touch? a Pin? a Word? a Look make such a brable?
But brought on Bed thy self-will never eas'd?
Gi'th'Child its will, & give the Fool its bable,
And who more pleasant? The devill's well when Hee's pleas'd.
But, whose of God is pleas'd when He's not well;
His Will's his Pleasure, and his own 's his Hell.
NO, feare not Thou for Thou dost Jesus seek
Meek righteous soul, to make thee righteous meek.
Feare nothing, nothing else but Him who can
Yet cannot' cause he will not hurt a Man;
A man of God, whose single, watchfull eye
Heart, minde, strength, might, joy, time, doth all imploy
In all Commands, with all their due extents;
And sweetly still the humble soule relents,
And drooping dropping, dropping in his breast will cry
Ah wretch't unprofitable servant I,
O blest and profitable servant Thou
Rewarded with th'All powerfull God, and how
How canst thou feare, wh'hast Him who all things made?
Feare not He bids; then feare to be afraid.
Feare not the Lion, but the way, watch, pray
He'd keep th'in his, who keeps His in their, way.
THat feare and love is good and great
That Goodnesse feares, and Greatnesse loves.
Good; for a slave may feare a threat;
And every rascall money moves.
Great; the greatest feare from
Miserimum est fuisse foelicem. Sin-and misery is, as it is to Holinesse-and Happinesse. Had not they first been, we had never known these. It is the full and feel­ing apprehension of their irrecoverable losse that makes Hell Hell to the wicked; And the feare of their indis­coverable obscuring that makes feare feare to the godly. In this so far exceeding that of the ungodly, that the feare of the one ariseth from the losse of God, of the other from the losse of themselves; an infinitely sweet and gra­tious God, a poore petty contemptible worm. The soule of the one widened in the great & vast apprehensions of the incomprehensible simplicity of God; of the other, shrunk up & shrivelled in the strait & narrow bounds of its own welfare. That being a feare of Love, the work­ings whereof are stronger than Death; this of hatred that shall be kept under the power of Eternall Death. That being that which draws the soul insinitely after him; bindes it indissolvably to him, makes it dwell ever­lastingly in him, who is Love, all Love, and in whom is no hatred at all. This, that which contracts it into it self, in a straight and scanty compasse, carries it off, makes it flie, and keep at a distance, from him who is Heaven, while they are flying from Hell. There being nothing that laies a stronger ingagement on the soule than Love, and therefore nothing that doth more intend and in­crease the affections conducible to its preservation: Which did an Arminian feele, he would never exclaime against free Grace, and absolute Predestination, as a do­ctrine of sinfull liberty, but rather (as I may call it) a­gainst forc't Grace, and dependant Predestination. The feares, cares, worries of the slave, and mercenary begin­ning and ending in himselfe, he not labouring out of a single eye, but as seeing the whip and lash over his head, the messe of Pottage at his hand, while the adopted Son, that lives at his Fathers Court, and is ascertained of the Inheritance, can as well ( qua talis, as such, whose heart is so enlarged and carryed forth in the sence of di­vine joyes and loves) indure any the least aberration from its Fathers good pleasure, as he that hearing him bespeake him with such like kinde compellations, [...] my deare, my precious Son, the childe of my kisses my pleasant embracings, for whose trouble my bowels are troubled, [...] on whom in tender mercy I will have tendes everlastingly tender mercie, &c. can chuse but be affect­ed with the most quick and ready concord of bowels, the most passionately stirring [...], the most Son­like givings, givings up of soule, and consequently acted with a more than manlike feare, care, working to be ever, ever pleasing, such a Father, such a God to whom he findes it so good to draw, to be, so neare.
Losse doth rise,
Heroicque spirits catch not flies.
HOw full of sweetnesse is my foule,
While in this boundlesse Ocean 't roules,
'T selfe in concurring floods of Blisse,
Where meets in One what ever is.
O How I dread thy mercies? How
Imbrace thy judgements? on whose brow
Sits lovely Soveraignety
Inthron'd in an Identity
Of awfull smiles! whose holy beames
Influence Seas of gratefull streames
Through all thy wayes, whose every path
A sweetly fresh occurrent hath
To bath my blissefull soul, sings still
Jehovah is in all; and till
He cease to be, he never will
To doe, Great! Good! nor I to fill
My reverentiall heart with praises,
Whose welcome feare my spirit raises
To such an heighth of self-contempt that all
This and the world below below me fall
Poore despicable spectacles to'th soule that feares
Nothing but what it Loves, nor loves but what it feares.
Hence pedling world, with all thy paltry pack
Trusse up, away, be gone. Nor have I lack.
What? Faire foule skins? full empty bags?
Fresh rotting bayes? are these thy brags?
They have no Grandeur to amuse
My free-borne spirits scorne to choose
What so inadequate will prove,
Unto the Heavenly vastnesse of my Love.
Nor when I see thee crosse my way,
Arm'd in thy terrors to essay
Me with fell browes and felling blowes
Canst make me stoope to thy dispose.
there's no such amiablenesse appeares
T'attract the sweetnesse of my feares.
So canst not play the Cheater nor
The Thiefe, I thus provided for.
Nor have I time nor strength t'attend
Thy gaudy trifles, nor to lend
An eare unto thy trifling threats;
Whilst such a fearefull-Love compleats
It selfe by growing more One in One;
My busied thoughts o're-whelm'd alone
In my exceeding! Great! Reward,
My Buckler and my shielding Guard.
Whose Sunne-amasing bright aspects,
Majestique Grace, Inf'nt protects,
Omnipotent Benignities,
Eternall favours, my soule n're sees
But wonder-struck it panting lies
For life to live before those eyes
Whose every glance conveies such sparkes
As all created beauties darkes;
And wholly makes my loving feare
Injoy th'inliv'ning dyings there;
Breaking through every object to
Th'great Love with whom I have to doe.
(That fires out mixtures while he warmes
Pure hearts in's purifying armes)
Trampling on worlds with all their force
And fraud that strive to stop my course.
There lie thou sprawling feare, and there
Disheartned love, so proudly'd dare
T'usurp the name belongs to One
Doth both as you yourselves oppone.
Let vulgar men, have vulgar mindes,
Let false feare kill, while fond love blindes,
Let vulgar men have vulgar mindes,
Move crosse and stumbling lie behinde;
Unenterfairing even pac't
Affections smoothl'each other hast
And me on them as the same feet
O'th' same Heaven-journying soul to meet
The same desire one blessed God,
Who ne'r made passions be at ods.
BUt Sin and Satan fear'st not them?
No, no, nor them, they can't condemne
Me, that must be the Higher powre,
Whose feare their feare doth over-powre.
Why shu'd I so disgrace my Birth?
A piece of Heaven-inspired Earth?
Shall I degenerate from my Birth?
And to base feares resign my Mirth?
No, 'tis not them I feare but Him,
Whose love will never lose a limbe.
I conflict with a conquer'd foe
Wh'hath only strength enough to show
The stronger over ruling hand
Subjecting All things to'ts command.
I'le wary, cautions, active be,
And so my feare, from feare shall free.
Give me no feare but that which meets
In hearty joyes, and honved sweets;
A well compos'd Ingredient
To make the more compleat content;
A pure, a cleane, a cleansing, sound,
Strong strengthning healthy feare, whose ground
Is Love, is Faith, a hopefull feare,
A feare of great delight's my feare.
Sweet feare! How oft I'd name thee, ere
I'd let thee goe? who art so neare
So deare unto my heart! Sweet feare!
That mak'st such Musick in mine eare!
That feast'st me with such royall cheare,
Such heavenly fare the while I heare
Thee say the King my Father's here,
The King my Husband's come to beare
Me company, to solace me
W'th all manner o' pleasants hid for me
Unworthy me! to sup and dine,
To banquet with me with the wine
The generous wine repleats my soule
With raised spirits above th'controule
Of men and divles, while humbly waite
On th' gratious Councels that impart
So glad a course of watchfull worke,
T'avoid the sad temptations lurke
About m'in every corner, and
Hath promis't me hee'l ever stand
Close by me wi'h's ne'r slumbring eye,
Ne'r shortned Arm, that can espie,
That can prevent, thought he so good,
Evill's at th'great'st distance, but he wu'd
Have them approach, assault, to try
How much of that great God may lie
In such a little piece of flesh,
What mighty powre he can expresse
B' a broken contrite heart, what high
What unconceiv'd delights defie
The highest-aspiring griefe, and scorn
T'be over-reached, overborn
By'ts cruell Talons, but still soare
Their Heaven-securing flights, as more
Advanced b' its pursuits, while still
Resolve t'be uppermost, will-nill
All th' ravenous griefes and Harpy feares,
Though th'hugest terriblest flock appeares,
Sweet feare! still sweet! And have I met
Thy name again? Though counterfeit,
That wu'd betray me while I let
The feigned sound have entrance, yet
As error proved makes the truth
More lovely, so its falshood doth
Thy faithfull friendship, while I finde
They're purposely of him design'd
These hid as well as open foes,
That may th' sagacity disclose
That with the courage lies inclos'd
In this my faithfull feare repos'd
In that All-powerfull breast. Sweet feare!
Wise Valiant feare! still may I feare,
Yet never feare, to lose thee, feare
Thy misse, but not thy losse, may heare
May see as well as know thou art
A constant lodger in my heart.
While still thou art in exercise
Of some sage puissant enterprize.
Still watchest, prayest, workest, wait'st,
Still fight'st, still beat'st thy way through straights.
Sweet feare! how oft I'd name thee er'e
I'd let thee goe? who art so neare
So deare unto my soul! sweet feare!
That mak'st such Musick in mine eare!
Well, make it still within my heart
VVe'r still together, though we part.

Il faut avoir Courage iusques & apres la mort.

THe shrill mouth'd Trumpet, and the ratling Drum,
The clattering armour, and the quivering Speare,
Swords glittering, Canons roaring, these become
The Spirit that's steel'd with Faith, not bar'd with feare
The smell of sulphure, and the sight of blood,
The sence of wounds, of death, the heart yet good.
Thus muster up thy forces day by day,
Thus fight before thou fight'st, this is the way
To carry it sure, put on thy Panoplie
Arm'd Capapea thy proudest foe defie,
What need'st thou Christian feare maintain the field,
God is thy Shield, Tower, Captain, never yeeld,
Or fear'st thou more the fiery darts of men
Then divles, these quench't, shall those affright thee? and when
Thou shu'dst be bold because thou art afraid;
In weaknesse God his power is perfect made.
HAst seen the Hunter hurry down like thunder
Headlong descents, beare up the steepest Crag,
Leap hedge and ditch, cut gates and bars asunder,
Break through the thickets, plunder through the Quags,
Scowre o're the Hillocks, flie it o're the Plaines,
Out-face the windes, laugh at the storming raines?
Forget his hunger, envy not the Bryars
His clothes, his flesh, wi'h's Steed undaunted prance
Through lonely Heaths perplexed Woods never tyres,
But on, still on he rides, and if he chance
To get a fall, leaps nimbly up again,
And makes the ground to feel's more swift disdain.
Thus fired with courage, nought but feare refraines,
Thus sports in 's perils, pleasures in his paines.
Up Heaven-bred heart, up This 'tis doth demerit
The exercise of thine Heroique spirit.
Shall that brave breast recoile? what, what temptation
Dismaies the man, whose danger's recreation!
How his resisted soule will reinforce
It selfe, and take new valour to its course!
Through all he breakes downe all he beares, o're all
He flies, his saith is further'd by his fall.
For what his nimble eye could not prevent
His noble heart turnes to incouragement.
And counts small undertakings too too small
For that Great minde that nothing great can call
But God On, on brave hearts; What, what temptation
Dismaies the man whose danger's recreation.
Not feares the hard'st injeopardingst, and yet feares,
The light'st secur'st, Imployment, since he heares
More Alsufficiencie in th' Aeternall's Word
For th' difficult'st exploits, and findes't confer'd
On's Heaven-raised soule, then'n Himselfe sees
To th' least good thought vast insufficiencies.
Thus by this feeblenesse made more apprehensive
O'th' gratious supervenient strength'i's defensive,
Offensive succours, He finds so sweet a greet
In's R'covering Heart, where strength and weakenesse meet,
God and himselfe, Here'd faine b'unchamber'd, bi'th'
Free quickning Aire; growne stronger,'d conflict with
The ruder windes; and yet his strength increast
Stirres up the heartned Champion to request
The King his Master to designe him to
Some singular service which he passing through
With perill-edging puissance might prove
The Sovereigne vigor of his Soveregne's love
Arm'd w'th' All-powrefull Arme, that rends in pieces
The hugest hosts of foes as th' slender Fleeces
O'th' slightest rottenest Woole. What, what temptation
Dismaies the man whose Danger's Recreation?
[...]st not thy exercise? I'st not to trie
Thy strength that Thou mayest know't and magnifie
[...]is Giver? I'st not use legges and have them, use travell
And use shall teach thee nimbly trippe the gravill,
[...]. Epict. [...].
And how thou'rt here mista'n, 'tis not th' affliction
Whereby thou suffer'st but thine owne affection.
No man can hurt thee unlesse thou wilt what may
An Heathen teach thee magnanimitie? O pray
Pray for more faithfull courage, let men see
Ethicks are yet to learne o'Theology.
What fear'st but sinne? lookes 't after what but grace?
Since there's so much in these, then these imbrace.
Count them thy Pleasure, Glory, and thy Gaines
For what gets more of Christ's well worth thy paines.
From the eater meate, cruell sweet, darke light, ill good;
A Ridle in heaven's fully understood.
Here were our hearts s' Inheaven'd in Holinesse
As there they'll be, even here they'd see no lesse.

[...].

SImplicitie-Immutabilitie
Art thou O'Lord? and am I as thou art?
One Spirit with Thee? this contrarietie
Whence is it then whence this inconstant heart?
Wer't but that to thy sacred Image I
'M renew'd, I'd looke for more Analogie.
One spirit, yet many loves, yet many changes?
O be there now no mixtures, no estranges.
O here's my woe, incorrespondency
My deeds unlike themselves, and all to Thee.
O trie, refine, rack, supernaturalize,
Extract, subtile, sublime, spiritualize.
O spirit, spirit, what shall I doe for spirit?
This body o' Sin, this rotten Carkasse, bury it.
How 'nweldy 'tis! how over-grown with flesh!
How faintly it workes! More spirits to refresh.
I can't indure these lame, sick, presents t' give,
Or make me lively, or not let me live.
O cou'd I keep my Orb and constant shine,
I'd draw up worlds with influence divine,
And mount their spirits, but so dim, low, coole,
They'le feare 'tis but some Meteor to befoole
Them not so wise to deem the different doome
Between a setting Sun, and falling Fume.
Much light 'tis shewes the Sun, much fruit the Roote,
The Roote, the Sun Thou art, then may my fruit,
My Light be much, that men may wonder much
What's th'lightfull Roote, whose fruitfull Light is such!
I am thine Image, don't men judge of Thee
By me? Ah Lord, let me no longer bee,
Or be more like Thee; What no more holy yet?
More perfect yet? Nay, my heart intreats Thee, let
Me branded be for a damn'd hypocrite,
Or my-thy Light let it increase its might.
The soul Thou sai'st, that's clean-and sound promoves
In strength; the righteous man his Light improves
Unto the perfect day; but better I
For ever perish, then Thou once shu'dst lie.
They'r foolish men, and if I once doe ill
From P'rticulars to Generals argue will,
From Man to God; but how ever I be,
Yet Thou art good, when wu't Thou come to me.
O that I could but wish to wish to bee
For ever in Hell, then be a jot from Thee.
This th' only Hell, then may I there ne'r be.
O cou'd I keep my earth-freed wish to be
For ever in Heaven, then be a jot from Thee.
Thee! Thee! But' — die for feare, for love of Thee!
Great! Good! what not? but I sin? shame
Glory! Grace! Grace? nay Then Ile live, Thy Name
With loudest praises Ile promulgate, Then
My heart, my life shall say Amen, Amen.
ORub me, rub me, He is passed by,
Pass't by—my breath, my life, my I.
O—what—but—
My hanging hands and feeble knees agree
To joyne their suit for speedy remedy.
My yearning lookes, and rowling bowels make
A sad relation of Thy sad forsake.
My yearning lookes, and rowling bowels make
A glad petition for Thy glading sake.
For Thy forsake I faint, I sinke, I die,
But for Thy sake I live, I rise, I flie,
And over all I hie.
I post, I speed, I cannot stay,
For Faith is nimble in its way.
I post, I speed, I cannot stay,
For love and love know no delay.
I post, I speed, I cannot stay,
For Faith and Love are all my stay.
I post, I speed, I cannot stay,
For Love in Sence must end my way.
HEalth, Wealth, Name, Liberty,
The World at will, enough,
Take thy ease, and minde thee.
The World? what's that to me?
Not elbow-roome enough
To turn and winde mee.
Not peeping hole to see
My Love; not breath enough
For m' Lungs to winde me?
Great! great deficiencie!
Not lightsome roome enough
To loose, n'er finde me.
Wu'd not I die? did not I eye
Thee far before my self?
Wu'd not I pray my selfe away
From all this paltry pelfe?
Wu'd I demurre when gone so far
In love to thy Great Selfe?
Wu'd I descend, and not there spend
M' into Thy Endlesse Selfe?
No sure Ide goe, Ide never hold my head,
And keepe my flushed spirits from their flight,
To roule their chantings i' the Darkelesse Light,
And sing inlargement from the living dead.
But that I heare me thinkes a voyce behind,
Sing Evangelick Anthems through thy life
Thy Heavenly concords woo'the I ambe a wife
Wives, and more winne the spirit of their minde.
Corrivalls here increase their mutuall flame,
Bi'th' mutuall praysings of th' all pleasing Name.
O make me then thy Instrument
So holding to thy hearts content,
So true unto the Touch each string,
Each straine so suite, each Note so bring
A grace unto the rest, that they
May fall in love that heare thee play.
May heare thee play that they may fall
In love that raises above all
To dwell with, dwell in him that is
Because the God of love, of blisse.
VVHere wut thou goe this morning wandring soule?
With whom wut sport? or where wut make thy baite
At noone? and at the falling Sunne wut roule
Thy wearied Limbes? He that Thee did create
And Re-create, He shall thee recreate,
He feed, He lodge Thee, and He be thy Mate.
Thy Mate? then like the faithfull Dove complain,
Watch on th' house top alone, till He come back
(Who is not gone) be all thy pleasures paine,
Thy Food thy Famine, and thy Bed thy Wrack.
Till He's all These to Thee that's All in All,
No vaine, no chaffie joyes thy minde forestall.
I can't feed on a Stone, a Scorpion.
'Tis only Bread, 'tis Egge that I can eate.
Not on this Vanity and Vexation,
'Tis Angels food, 'tis Manna is my meate.
To th' poys'nous breath'd Aegyptians I resigne
The Leekes and Onions, the huskes unto the Swine.
I tell thee worldling in my meate's such might,
That on one feast I forty dayes can travell,
Expos'd to winde and weather, watch, ward, fight,
Defie the gates of Hell; wu'd not this gravell
Thy Earth-fed strength? Keep the' an Aegyptian slave?
And make thee-Canaan leave to spirits more brave?
O how I cu'd even melt into Compassion,
Poure out my soule in pitty to behold
Those that for godlinesse are in the fashion,
But for the power, have they skill, are they bold
About them with the two edg'd Sword to play
Through right, left hand temptations cut their way?
Poore soules, a taste that ne'r yet did enjoy
How good is God; it may be wet their Lip
In a Communion Cup; or like the Boy
O'th'Vint'ners palates the essaying sip
Commends 't for good, and spurts it on the ground.
God in their Mouthes, not in their Reines is found.
Poore soules that never drew their draught so deep
Of this Rich Philtre, that it threw their veines
Into those inward hidden parts might creep;
There on Loves Hearth to tine the fire disdaines
An Ocean, which shu'd it it surprise,
'Twu'd but zeales heate antiperistasize.
HOw oughten hath thy Servant wish'd his knees
Were glu'd to'th' ground? they were, for did he rise
The skin untorn fro'th' flesh? T's his death who sees
Such holy Beauties to divert his eyes.
But Thou bid'st rise. Well-'t's but a turn, still walk
I with my God, still Heare, still See, still Talk.
I turn not from, but with, we've many a walk;
All Mercy and Truth, Paths, rugged, lower ground.
Yet Could nor wrench my foot shall make to stray
From Him, His Angels keep me, thus I found
Not th'World, not Hell perverts the conversation,
As th'heart unshoo'd with's Gospels preparation.
Lord did I love Thee as I love to love
Mid'st crooked Men, Things, can't I be upright?
When in afflictions waters thou dost prove
My affections? Sha'nt their fire increase its might?
But on command the world Ide never touch,
Search me and try me if my heart been't such.
Wu'd I not still keep in immediate vision?
How 'fraid again lest Tenter-hook'd I be
By mediate things? lest ought should cause division
Between my soul and body, God and me.
Leade me not hence unlesse't be in thine hand.
Thy Mandates Promises Promises Command.
Ide shake off all men businesse turn Anchorite,
And wrap my quiet soule int's own content,
Hows'd from the winde and weather wu'd delight
My selfe in my New World, till having spent
M' appointed time, my wished change shu'd come
And fetch me from my Cell, t' my Fathers home.
Try, Try my heart deare Lord. O where's the man
That loves his neighbour as himselfe, his God
Above ten thousand worlds and lives that can
With filiall thankfulnesse runt' kisse the rod,
And pray as heart'ly for it as his food
As oft as his good Father sees it good.
O where's the man that is the Inward man?
Whose Eyes, Tongue, Sences all, keep still within,
With God; n'er step without untill he can
Receive his warrant thence, skill, strength, the ginne
To shun to break, that lies in every thing,
And so thorow all, himself to God Re-bring.
O where's the man that watches every thought,
That cannot misse his God a minutes space,
But's in a sowne, who's heart at th'smallest fault
Boyles with revenge against himselfe. Where th' face?
Whose smiles are all reflects, all h's sadnesses
Eclipses of the Sun of Righteousnesse.
His lookes thus a true Lookinglasse o'h's Soule,
His Words are Ecco's to that Word was ever
With God, was God; he can't indure to foule
His fingers with the world; if fowl'd were never
Never lin rubbing with his Fuller soape
Till th'are more white than ever. Wher's th' man can hope?
Whose hope can silence all his earthly wishes,
Make them subscribe to heaven? Tell him 'f a Crowne,
Of Tempes, Indies? He answers 'em with Pishes.
But name but Jesus you'le see him strait bow downe.
But what? No fooles Cap, nor no Asses knee;
With's humble'd eye rebound to heaven will he.
O where's the man that glories in his shame?
Too many, 't's true, yet not enough, 't's as true;
Millions that are a shame to God; but name
The man that hee's a shame for God. How few
Who only wish that they may bee, to be
Gods glory, though through greatest infamy.
Where's Hee'le make godlinesse his only gain?
Count so much got, as got of God? Account
Him for his end, all else as meanes, refraine
All paines, all gaines that he sees not amount
T' a thriving Summe of this; will live on Bread
On Water; die, but Hee'le be here well fed.
Think'st thou deluded Worldling Christ is Thine?
Bid'st Him good-morrow for all day, and then
Hurriest to th' World, toyl'st, moyl'st, when thy spirits decline
If th'st breath enough, salut'st Him with good-den,
Or once a week com'st with thy Dog to visit
His House, not Him, no nor His House, what is it?
Poore soules! wu'd my Teares Eye-bright water be
Unto your blinded Eyes, how fast I'd weep!
But godlinesse is such a mistery,
As God t' All save His House unknown doth keep.
Let thy Life say thou know'st this mistery,
Or thy Presumption gives but God the lie.
Cud'st once say thus, Ile ne'r indure this life.
Goe th' World, to'th' World; Not all day make a meale
Upon a Promise? How faint I'm, I a wife
Of such a husband? I o'th' Common weale
Of Israel? Not seene my Love to day?
No care o's' Kingdome? then well hope I may.
Nay where, in whom, when all ill sensuals meet,
Hath Christ so cast in's heart that He can turn
To wine His water, His bitter into sweet.
VVher's He can sit and see his City burn
VVhile mounted on th' high Tower of his Salvation
VVarbles the Praises of his New Creation.
Yet be no Nero neither, but from those Heights
Lookes and condoles poore soules can't sit and sing
In Blood and Flames, keepes pauses with his sigthes,
And time w'th's Teares, strikes flats on every string,
Ecco's w'th's Voice, re-ecco's with his Heart,
VVith Ciprus face in mourning beares his part.
Still glitters in his eye milde Majesty,
Still's heard in's voice, the Lion and the Lambe,
His heart still wrapt with heavenly mealody.
'Tis God that justifies, who's he shall damne?
Blest man! Thus all, in's voice, in's lookes, in's heart,
Graces, sets off, compleats his better part.
Not that he's wanting in humanity,
But that 't hath gone to Schoole to D'vinity,
VVhere it hath learn'd when persecutions be
Exceedingly to leap for joy,
[...].
not that he
Loves Men so little but loves God so much
Not that his griefe's small but his joy not such.
Great love! great joy! how gratious and how wise
Is our Lord God to let us s'int' temptings fall!
So to commend his love, his power make's prise.
Christ and His Christians triumph over all.
Thus live the just by Faith, thus let me live
Come Antichrists, come divles Ile praises give!
I feare not Rome nor Spain but the Armadoes
The Powder plots within, these n'otherwise
But for to watch and fight, for all h's bravadoes
I know my foe's but for my exercise
Kill me he can't, and if he soarely wound
Sweeter's my Gilead Balme, and I more sound.
Ile keep my ranke wherein my Lord of Hosts
Hath plac'd me, so Ile be his Voluntary
I'th' day of his Beauties Armies, these unholy ghosts
These Gods of flies Diables nothing care I.
Waite on the Lord keep's way, thou sha't prevaile
See th' wicked cut off, yea the Beast his Taile.
Yet 't angers me to see this trompery
When men must fain to goe to'th' dancing schoole
To complement with heaven. Did'st ever see
An honour made by a Mistresse Courting foole?
Or heare 'em call for sides? so of the rest,
Know one know both so 's dancing i' request.
The case is alter'd since I learn'd to dance
And strangly too, we're growne lesse spiritfull
And yet we're taught by th'brisker spirits of France,
My honest English measures are too dull.
French Currants, Spanish Pavins now they call
For th' second part to th'same tune, nor her's all.
Well be it so much money lost, Ile never
Learne t' dance at this age, specially of those
Who such a one lead as I can't see how ever
A man can keep his feet upright, but goes
Still'n danger of his neck, They may for me
Who'd rather Aegypt then Jerusalem see,
The family is a little Church they say
And so't shu'd seem, here to's but complement.
Religion knowes no bonds but forme,
Men pray twice, 't may be reade, indifferent well content
Thus t'heare of God continually pray
Who doth to heare Him see Him all the day?
O wher's the man whose life hath copyed out
Pauls Charity? but hence the teares the feares
The scourge must over-flow to fetch about
Bring in our stragling hearts, no mar'll there appeares
Unholighosts to frighten us together
Make's know whose children we are, t's high time if ever.
What shall I say? hast not Thou said enough
To make us love thee Lord, love one another?
I can't say more but pray, make smooth things ruffe,
Low high, straite crooked, that fitted each to other,
We may so close be joyn'd that wee'le first breake
In flitters; though part in twain, be sound though weak.
Wher's he hath done this, more then this, yet he
Cries out undone. He only 't is commends
That Perfect Holinesse, he only see
That Mercie's Rare. Only he the world transcends.
Workes us though nought were done, believes as all.
Is nothing in himselfe, his Christ his All.
O wher's the man whose daily eager cry
Is, Come Lord Jesu, quickly come, alas
Shall we be strangers will? How long shall I
Stand looking through the Lattice on a glasse?
Ne'r see thee face to face? O come, O VVhen!
Hast my beloved, hast, Amen, Amen.
How long shall I thus up unto the chin
I'th' Rivers of thy Right-hand pleasures stand,
And yet but get a sip that doth begin
The thirst that doth far deeper draughts demand.
VVhen drink my fill, when eat o'th' Tree of Life
That is prepared for the Lamb his VVife?
Still shall I stay? still? when this mixon quit?
But th' ought'st thy generation serve, though crooked,
Perverse. Lord make me wise, me fit
For this thy service. Since I've undertook it,
My dearest surety for me undertake,
Forsake me not who all for thee forsake.
Teach me my due recesses from the throng
Of streightning worldlings, how to live among
VVhile separate from them, how to shew them heaven
My self beyond the reach of their deceiving.
That like some Angell hovering in the aire
My spirit may be the while my bodie's here,
Relating th' passages of all my travels
Through th' sweet Ourania crown'd with pleasant marvels,
That I might win their home bred hearts to try
The Climates of so rare Discovery.
FLy up wilde Fire into the loftie Aire,
Burst into Starres, and with thy twinckling faire
Allure admiring eves, make them beleeve
Thou't turne the night to day ere thou wu't greeve;
And with thy Crackling noyse make such a thunder
Thou't fright the fates themselves into a wonder
E're they shall touch thee, yet proud powder know
Pure spirits are up when sulphury dust's below.
And when thy flashie lightning, blazing snuffe,
Foole-cozening fire, rob'd of its earthie stuffe
Shall die in noisome stench, my sunne shall shine
And shew the difference of a joy divine.
And though the mightie rushing windes of prayer
Dispell not straight th' unkinder clouds, yet are
They not the matter of my joy and there—
fore not the end; yea shu'd those glimpes cease
Eft soones I have, yet what a blessed peace
Soft rest from that still gratious influence
Of warmth and life, I feele my Sunne dispense
Into my humbled soule! Nay, were these gone,
(Gone to my sence) and I desert like one
Both in the darke and cold, yet Ile not grudge,
And what a sweete is meekned hope? nor budge
To fetch false fire and make my selfe a sparke,
VVhose bed of ashes is all alwayes darke.
Fond griefe-borne man b' aspiring pride will fall
To worse, and make his darke most darke of all.
But still I keepe my hold, not loase my hand
For all the comforts round about me stand
To tise my gripe, but I more catch my hold
Where that glad safety I finde that's uncontroul'd
Of all the world, and hug that joy within
That by a strangers eye was never seen,
Nor hard remov'd; that true strong sollid Faith,
More sweet then all the sences feasted hath;
Cu'd'st take a man with most delicious Cates
His Palate feed, and with the daintiest baites
Of beauty his eyes, his nostrils with the sents
Of fragrant Eden, Eares wi'th' instruments
O' th'rarest consorts, his wantonizing flesh
Wi'th' softest dalliance; yet, this caitife wretch
'S but in a dreame, and so too wu'd he thinke
If wise, who when he wakes is at the brinke
Of fatall plunges. But my joy is of
Another kinde. A generous joy and loth
To borrow o'th' world since findes that store within
That fils me most when most I've empty been.
Heres that, that when my Oyle seemes almost gone
O'reflowes my neighbours vessels with mine owne.
Heres that, that shu'd my feet be ready slide
Into the Wise mans Paradise doth guide;
Cries, be thou e'ry minute of the day
In'th' feare o'th' Lord, nor let thy envy stray
To catch a tempting apple, paltry pleasure,
A bladderd name, a rag of dunghill treasure.
Men look to Ends, and beasts unto the present;
Full Moones will waine and full will be the crescent,
Thy crescent and n'er waine. O heres a word
How m'thinks it stillest silent'st whisperings heard
Through th'most tumultuous insurrection broiles
My flesh can make; s' amidst these Coiles
What high resolves I take, deepe pleasure draw?
VVhile know my broyles my spoyles my griefe my joy
Shall multiply. In what a peace is Hee
VVhose minde is staid on Thee great God! He! He!
O man of admirations! This is he
'S in perfect peace although he cannot see
Not say't himselfe. For what is that but a Stay?
And where's that perfect but where's no decay?
The roote of joy is Peace, and Peace it's nature
Follower it's ground; sound joy's onely ith' Creature
Hee's in his Peace. As hast thou ever beene
Upon the Rouling Maine? conveyed within
Some well trim'd Barque, and under deckes wud'st doubt
Thou'rt not within because thou heard'st without
The tumbling Billowes beate against her sides
VVhile thy clos'd Cabbin from thy selfe Thee hides;
So is he In his Peace His Christ His Arke,
Though windes, waves, tempests roare and hee's i'th' darke.
Blest soule that rides to heaven on the world
I'th' Bottome like a Mussell Shel is spurl'd
Ath' foote of pride. So dost thou spurl't proud wretch
Thinke as thou please, that build'st thy selfe a Catch
O'th' owne to swimme upon the flattering calme
Of sence-delight, and never fear'st the storme
Till finds't, and when thou seest the danger in,
Thou thought'st not of, thy folly, then thou't swim
From off thy broken vessell unto him
To save thee from thy death though not thy sinne
The life of death. Mad soule! Thou'dst have him bee
Thy Saviour, but sav'd thou wou'dst not be,
But be inslav'd unto thy deadly lusts
The while for life on him thou madly trust'st.
But know till thou hast learn't the way to live
In him; by, with him thou sha't never live.
Till thou hast learnt to doe, be all in him
Thy brightest light, thy livelyest joyes shall dimne
Shall die, as not o'th' Sanctuarie's Fire
That nere goes out, but that that dies i'th' ire.
O'th' everlasting burnings, know no fire
Not zeale not spirituall joyes themselves, but such
As tine their Tapers by the faithfull touch
Of that celestiall and unmixed flame
Th' cleare uncorrupted Light is still the same.
VVHat meanes (deare Friend) this lot-misliking moane?
Who's not content with any's content with none.
What had he who possest the world alone
But not his soule as not enough in one?
What had he not, wh' had not where t' lay his head
But in his fathers bosome made his bed?
The way to true content it's but one, that hit
Straight leads thee to the Presence where there sit
Millions of smiling graces that imbrace
Thee in their welcome armes glanc't from the face
Whose every beame raines golden showers of love
Upon thy sugred soule i'th' floods of love
Melts and's exhal'd unto those Thrones above
Where all thy Tryalls but thy Trophes prove.
Cheare up blest heart who tremblest at his word
Hath promist hee'le looke to thee, nurse thee, afford
Thee what hee's able, and wu'd'st have more?
He cannot then be rich if thou art poore.
Hee'l no good thing withhold, and wu'd'st have bad?
'Twere better farre thou cu'd'st be poore then mad.
Hee's onely poore whom God doth hate, but he
Hates onely them that love themselves, but yee
That loath leave all for him but crave
A hundred fold more such in him and have.
Hee's infinite hee's nothing more too scant
To helpe ten thousand great then one small want.
Hee'd first create another world for his
E're they should want a Pointile of their blisse.
But earth and heaven and all I Ciphers call,
The number's onely one, who makes is all.
He ne're injoyes the world that makes't his joy,
He e're injoyes't that makes it his annoy,
Such difference makes hope and feare to part
With what he spurnes at's heele he laies to's heart.
Whence had he keep't t'had never gone toth'quick
When pluct away, nor left him sorrow-sicke
Whose comfort lives on healthier principles.
Substracted crutches, Criples onely Criples,
At th'best 'tis childish not to goe alone,
But grow in knowledge of that All in-one
And that shall make thee grow in strengthning grace
That makes foule way to mend they homeward pace.
A Naball seated in's sufficiencie
Is still i'th' creatures stockes, when Job can flie
His heaven-free circuits in's proverbiall needs
And fetch the selfe-sufficiencie exceeds
The gain of worlds on worlds and makes him blesse
His God for th'endlesse wealth of godlinesse.
Ther's nothing that's without can blesse or curse
Saies the Philos'pher, and shall we be worse,
VVe Philochrists? vvho if he be vvithin
And vve in him, all wi'thout's not worth a pin.
Fling, fling away the vvorld vvhen he shall bid
You'l sweeter taste those sweeter Cates he hid
For's hidden ones before the world was made,
And vvhereupon they feast vuhen it shall fade.
Or could thy heedy faith as clearely espy
His vviser hand vvithdrawing thy pelfe as I
The hand that drawes these lines, how cu'd'st thou cry
But Hallelujah to the God on high!
VVho is, thence doth, onl' good; long then to learne
Obedience unto vvhat thou shalt discerne
Appointed by him. So make the smallest crosse
Crowne thee a Martyr vvhile thy thankfull losse
Shall vvitnesse vvhat a powerfull God he is
Glads thee vvith that from vvhence thy sorrow rise;
Bids thee for nothing care but how to care
For nothing, by thy praise-requesting prayer
To see to sing vvhat rare what plentious fare,
VVhat store of all select delights there are
In this thy Pallace-Castle-Christ secur'd
For ever; thus in thy boundlesse bounds immur'd
Abide, view round about thee, Mercies stand
Above, belovv, b'fore, b'hinde, on either hand,
Compast vvith mercy as a fiery vvall,
But tri'd, refin'd to thee comes nought of all,
Conspire then trecherous vvorld vvith that belovv,
And vvhat? Come make us sport to see yee so
Ridiculously foolish to attempt
To force the Fort so far from force exempt.
So shall thy understanding passing peace
Guard th'understanding heart, whose joyes increase
By opposition, while th'experience knowes
The freedome from i'th'benefit by blowes.
Six troubles and seaven m'assault with thundring bands
But still their ill at th'greatest distance stands.
Nay, act thy faith in Heaven for all thou want'st
In earth, and be as troubled as thou canst.
Be steady, immoveable, if thou't approve
By alway abounding workes thy trust above;
Hast seen the palsie hand how'ts shaking sinews
Bungle at its worke it often discontinues
And slowly rids away while marrs th'little part
It do's. So th'feare-griefe-care-disturbed heart.
All things cooperate thy good? How dar'st
Deny't? How dar'st affirm it while thou scar'st
Thy self vvith thine own shadow fondly cast
O'th' love shines clearest vvhen the Cloud is past
The Cloudy world (the cleare quick-sighted soule
Transpeirces, vvhen't detaines the dully foule)
And thus me thinkes afflictions makes us sing
How good! How good they are, while they re-bring
Our stragling hearts to more demeuring views
Of him vvhom vve cause he us first did chuse.
And thus by them his holinesse partake
When disincumbred frequenter we make
Immediater approaches, so to limbe
Us form and feature more his own, and trim
'S more accurately to him vvhile more see
Him as he is, the vvorld as it is, Vanity
Of all except vexation and thereof
Full in its serled'st state, and are we lo'th
To be unmanicled to have our hand
Strengthned to hold truth more of Christ while stand
Happily 'nfetterd in these freeing Cords
That make our erst enslav'd affections Lords,
Where closer kept in perfect libertie,
(Imperfect onely in that t'shall closer be)
Hee'l point out our misprisions and give
Instructions how we may more like him live.
How good!' Twu'd make thee covet povertie,
And be ambitious of disgrace, and flee
Upon the wracke presented by thy God,
Wu'd'st thou beleeve that glorious abode
O'th' spirit of spirits—What is thy state
If once with all our States and Lives thou weigh it?
I knew a man (the moone hath twelve times since
And onely twelve by quarterly dissents
Lighted the winking world t'see how't beclings
Th' inconstancy of sublunary things
This man) whose Age stood i'th mid'st of all
The earth's temptations while they roundly fall
About his necke to steale his heart with kisses
Downe to'th' infernall Chambers, forearm'd withblisses
Of never failing proofe where ere they cover
Marches where that sweet Dove is us'd to hover
Upon his God exploring head, that sought
Him in the Garden, and imbracing caught
Him in his walking voice, that i'the fresh
O'th' day wont there to meet him, and expresse
Farre fresher loves. VVhen suddenly he teares
A dismall cracke invade his quiet eares.
As when some mighty Structure craz'd with yeares
And reparations negligences beares
'Ts decrepid limbs upon its friendly props,
Who straite deceived of the ground that drops
From under 'm, not o're sound no little part
Themselves, forc't from their tottering Charge they start
Assunder from their close conjunction. Now,
Now All's agoing, her massie bodie bowes
Her longue-time-drooping now quite falling head
O'th' weaker Ayre that overburthened
Finds strength enough to lift her dolefull voyce
Unto the lofty skies, seem'd to rejoyce
By their cleare cheerie countenance that they
Were so farre distant from so shroud a fray.
But still the loud mouth'd Ayre not able beare
Th' oppression, fumes in a furious rage and teares
Her deadly throat with envious exclamation
To rend the restie eares oth' drousie Nation,
Whose feeble Portalls too too weake to stand
So hard a stresse, flie up before the grand
Tumultuous noise attended with its Troupes
Of hiddious feares, t'whom straite their spirit stoopes
With yeelding slavery while they represent
Them spectacles as Potent to torment.
See Citties broyling in their bloody flames
And choak't in sweltring smoake, the mincing dames
Their fashion-brooding braines dasht on the streete
They thought too base a pavement for their feete,
The canker'd Usurer hugging o'the bagges
Betray his Life, the fine-mouth'd Wanton draggs
Some poysonous carrion from a loathsome hole
For his restorative, and now there's nothing stole
That's felony, nor slaughter's murther to
Those divle-inspired Pontificians, who
With more than Savage cruelty make death laugh
'T selfe fat with'flesh't devoures the blood it quaffes
In full Carrowses from the Parricide hands
Of Hell-sprung Catilines, whose Rome-bred Bands
Arm'd with Hierarquique powers make sculls their Cups
Bouse of their Rounds to fate and wallow up
To th' reaking knees in vast Acheldamas,
Thus and beyond Thus in a thousand wayes
That grim-fac't Monster shooke his angry dart
Against the fearing, but God fearing heart,
Rose in undanted courage to that height
That Nature ne're can beare, advanc't by th'sight
O'th' Beautie in that breach, the Musicke in
That Crack, that vailed beautie that was seene
More faire through black, that Musick that
Was heard more sweete through waters, that begat
That well composed temper in his heart
So fixedly prepar'd no force might part
It from t's Elshaddai, by whose blisse-full name
'T was so enlivened with transporting flames,
So man'd with Heaven-animated spirits,
So carried forth with brave resolves, 't demerits
Some Angells Pensill to describe the joy
Intranc'd the soule, who while on All it saw
This Motto, There's no evill but the Lord
Hath don't, full nimbly aptly sweetly accords,
The will o'th'Lord be done, for He can doe
Nothing but Good, but very Good. And who
VVhose heart's inflam'd with Thy Great Love Great Go
Can say that any thing Thou dost is odd
Who's he shall teach thee wisdome? Canst thou draw
The Heavens out like a Curtaine, give a Law
To th'Earth to hang on nothing? Who shall lend
Him bowels that steeres our hearts? Or who extend
His goodnesse unto Him? Shall th'fountain come
To drink o'th' streames? Shall I be cal'd to summe
M' account to Thee? Thou scan my Poesie
On thy crook't fingers? Ar'nt my wayes eaven? Thy
First framings of thy thoughts wholly perverse,
And that continually, and thou redresse.
Thou make thy Maker? Or was I so o're taken
Like some unwary Father, who hath forsaken
His goods, to live at's Sons provision, or
Hast thou them of thy selfe, and dost abhor
To be beholding unto me? Behold the man
'S become's own God himselfe, and scornes to stand
T' our pleasure, but to thy dust proud dust, goe drudge
About thy Thorny Earth, learn hence not t' grudge
Me my prerogative, and if thou dost
Deale proudly still, still I'le be uppermost.
But are my doings all good? whence then this mutter?
Ar'nt they? Shew me my Master, let him utter
His skill, Come Mushrome, thou of yesterday,
Come teach the Ancient of dayes to sway
His Scepter. Or what milder sounds th' attempts
That quarrel'st at his prudent Regiment.
Who's not a truly-throughly-humble man,
Hee's but a practicall Arminian.
Had'st but thou well studyed his revealed will,
And pray'd thee to'ts perswasion, wu'd't not still
Thy murmuring at the loosing of a Straw
Who had'st digested that Eternall Law
Of pretermission and receipt to grace?
Wu'd this in all thy Topicks find no place
More than the proud Pelagian will see
Even so my Father 'cause it pleased thee,
What? shall the child in its balbutient age
Instruct the Father? or what more can ingage
Me to content then, 'tis my Fathers pleasure,
In whose contentment 's lain up all my treasure
Of joy and blisse; But th'want o'th'laying th'foundation
Well, and well building on't makes all th'mutation
So oft befall us, else might we steady stand
Upright unshaken mov'd on neither hand.
God is my Diapason, rise or fall,
Above all, thorough all, the ground of all.
And so he is to All his workes, but they
Can heare no concords that will disobey;
But wee that put our selves into his hand
Obedient instr'ments of his just command.
Who with his crosse-division running art
Gives such mysterious pleasure to the heart
Of 's understanding ones, a stranger can't
Conceive, whose judgement's too too rude, too scant
To compasse such an odde variety
Into a sweeter-sounding unity.
Nor sees th'decorum, now with smarter strokes
Of 'ts valour excitating tones provokes
Our rouzed spirits unto Martiall feates,
To quiet combates with the enemies threats.
Now w'th soft retreatings recollects them by it
'S remisser touches to a watchfull quiet.
Strike hard, or gently stroke, this know we still
We're th'better musick of his gracefull skill.
Prosperity's a Triall too, and he that uses
'T not in that notion exceedingly abuses
Himselfe and it, and never sooner looses
His every-way ensnared soul then when he chooses
It not as pleasing God, but him, refuses
Adversity not because his minde induces
Him t'think it's not thought good of God, but hee
Wu'd ever prosperous never afflicted be.
And wu'd'st thou so? know every state's a triall,
And all prosperity lies in self-deniall.
While thou surrounded with the confluence
Of all the earths indearements that presents
Thee with its goodliest heart-alluring'st offers
Tak'st them as not ta'ne of them, daily proffer'st
A glad resignment, having learn'd the art
To have thy Food-indeed ev'r hungring heart
More fil'd with Heaven then thy hands with Earth.
Count'st Myriades of Worlds a starving dearth
Till Him thou seest in All, gets Him through All,
Above all livest with Him, 's in, through, 'bove, all.
O such a man? this man of Millions he
'S well bottom'd beares so well so high degree?
Be rooted, grounded, stablisht in the Faith,
So maist thou reare that superstructure hath
A winde-and-storme-out-facing firmitude,
Whose Capstone shu'd be constant gratitude,
Whose corner stone is Christ; whom while we see
How can we unchearefull, how unthankfull be?
In every thing give thankes, 'cause every thing
Brings good to us 'cause glory to him brings;
This is the will of God. Sweet will! The will
Of God concerning me? What me? What still
More sweetnesse! What am I that I should be
To be the subject of such Majesty!
That thou shud'st once bestow a thought on me!
But such a, such a thought concerning me
In Christ? In Him even now translate into
The Kingdome of thy dearest Son might view
My Crosse triumph't o're by a patient and
Long suffering joy, while strengthned, strengthned stand
With might, all might, according to his power,
His glorious power, doth all things over-power.
O'th' joy! the joy! the over-flowing joy
Tides on the Heaven-ward soule wherein the Law
Of comforts God's a hidden spring, delights
The inward man, whose chiefe, whose sole delight's
To be the subject of Gods will; a joy
Whose boundlesse inundations can destroy
And beare before it like a wispe of Straw
The hugest oppositions sad'st annoy
That Earth and Hell can raise; a joy redoubles
T's augmented forces by'ts increasing troubles.
The while he makes the more retir'd repaires
Unto h's entowring Name, views th' Legions there
Attend him, how heavens souldiers flock about
Him with their profer'd service, and his doubts
Fly far away the while hee's more intent
To th' secrets of his heart, more represent
Him purity, integrity, simplicity,
Sincerity, truth, th'face of God, vvhereby
H's's inlargedly spirited with joyfull love
'T dares wrastle a fall with death, and longs to prove
The mastery, and like some mighty Gyant fil'd
With generous Wines, speeds sprightly to the field
Of high exploits, that th'world and he might see
Th'o'repowring arme of Al-sufficiency,
What wonders 't acts in feeble flesh; a joy
That can the most blood-sucking sorrow cloy
With superabundant sweetnesses, a joy
Sings nothing sweeter then it's wisht envoy
Unto the world, a joy whose skill is showne
'N extracting marrow from the dryest bone,
A joy of that extended pure delight,
'I's impossible the heart b' in such a plight
Shut up in selfish, ridgid, austere constriction,
No't can be hard while such a blest affection
Dissolves it all in pitty, drawes, powres it out
In streames of meek compassions run about
On every side with heedy tendernesse,
To see what wayes of succouring redresse
'T may finde, while still it makes this gentlenesse prove
More flaming oyle to its Seraphicke Love.
Thus, thus annoint with this Celestiall joy
Diffuses weighty spirits, and imployes
M' in such a sadnesse t' which all th' rest is madnesse.
A grave confulting serious sober sadnesse
Consist's with, is the Basis of, true gladnesse,
'T which all other's is but a merry madnesse.
A joy's no light slight frothy vapouring bubble
That disappeares at th'softliest-blasting trouble;
But a perspicuous solidity,
Transplendent firmnesse, agile stability.
Thus kindly may the influented Art
Of that bright morning Star that rules this heart
Temper thee to it selfe, and warm thy soule
VVith spirits may raise th' above the worlds controule.
'Tis not thy Musicke, Stories, Company
Thy forc'd ungenuin mirth can remedie
Thy wound, no i'ts but a palliated cure,
'T will fester more and thou wilt lesse indure
T's returning smart, but leave this Mountebanke trick
And search toth' coare; better once be throughly sicke
Then never truly well. Out with this odde
This peevish humour that oppugnes thy God
His sacred will, for then and not till then
Thou't say to all his workes a glad Amen.
'Tis onely this our inconformitie
'S the cause of all our sinne and miserie.
And wu'dst thou not conforme did'st firmely beleeve
Him all good, thou all bad? but hence we grieve
Fond soules the griefes must be griev'd over again
Cause our weake faith this maxime can't maintaine.
How can we be in our repining mood
But in our heart we say he is not good?
No, no, it's not, it's not, so easie a thing
To b'leeve him good; for whether wud 't not bring
Us duely, truly creedited? keepe then to this
Say God is good, for that is all our blisse;
Our blisse is all in Christ, by whom alone
The selfe denying soule God good hath knowne.
Worke, waite, pray, praise, This part's thine, God's the rest,
'Tis daring sacriledge to be unblest;
Gods glorie's rob'd, ere thine owne good; but pray
Thy Will be done, let thankefull patience pray;
Blest man how ever; There's nothing comes amisse
Toth' man harh ta'ne the will of God for his.
Is now no more himselfe is ruled by
Another soule his sole felicitie.
What's Heaven if not a seeing face to face
Sung heart to heart! were here that full seene grace
Sung to a perfect harmony of wills
We might on Earth of Heaven take our fills.
Bless't God hath given us such an Heavenly Brother
To tune us all to Thee and each to other.
O what a consort's here! but ah where finde
I two or three strick Unisons in minde?
Yet were they thirds, fifts, eights, yet unitie
Runs sweetely through with a sweet Symphonie.
There's one blest One i'th' mid'st, who where he is
In turning all to One, turnes all to blisse.
One! reconcil'd! One! Smpathy! agree!
How full's my soule with heavenly melodie?
What's sinne, shame, griefe, what whatsoever's bad
But discord from the good the God we had?
What else th' all-sinning sinne? this Tree I will
A sign of Soveraigntie I will not.
Hell! Hell! but what th' all-saving grace? come doe
Come suffer m'will; thy will? I come I doe.
Heaven! Heaven! How harsh'n answ'r t'a sweet injucti­on!
How sweet an answer to so harsh a function.
Thus fin-and-sorrow follow self-will'd pride,
And grace-and-peace the self that is denide.
To will thy will's the sole humilitie
Wherein thou dwel'st, and that's in Heaven to be.
How sweet a Heaven's the heart! still say it wu'd
It is my God do he what seemes him good.
Here's a belov'd sweet singing Israel
Whose heart's full set to God's, consent's as well
In all notes as in one; and if he strike
A jarre, jarres with himselfe till strikes alike.
And that's a jarre that playes a pleasant moane
I'th'eares of Heaven, and therefore in his owne.
VVhat to give Grace and Glory, but to give
According to thy sacred will to live?
VVhat ist to be in Hell? To be at ods,
Men with themselves, friends, neighbours, devils, God's;
Cursing the cause of this their sad discent
From th' just inflicter of their punishment.
Gnashing their teeth for envy at the thought
Of that Salvation Reconcilement brought.
Thou only blest in being only One,
Make us to be One spirit with thine owne,
And so with one another: ere may I be
VVith them thee feare, they feare to disagree.
VVhat was our blessers dying blessing? His prayer
VVe might be One as He and's Father are.
O were I, were I able to unfold
The riches that one sillable doth hold.
There's only One thing that is necessary.
Met we all there, how cu'd we thus contrary?
One body, one spirit, one hope, one faith, one Lord,
Baptim, God, Father, so many Ones afford
Their help to keep all One, and yet how few
VVhose boysterous spirits will not bussle throw
Soft peaces bounds, so lewse loose unity?
For none but humble-candid-wise agree.
But proud-contentious-fooles will ne'r agree
Nor vvith themselves, nor others, nor with Thee.
Their friendship's but dissembled enmity
Unto th'r owne soules, Thee, all, since not agree
In Christ; they're not at peace wi'th' very stones
O'th' field; the whole Creation groanes
Under this universall enmity
It feeles by man his parting friends with Thee.
Now this Commune Vinculum is broke,
All flies in pieces, and we doe but cloke
Our differences, if not seem to be
Each for himselfe, and then what friends we be?
How now afraid of injury from each other,
Shrink up our selves into our selves, and smother
At least our mutuall hatred, and not discover
The depths of malice that our hearts doe cover,
Stor'd up against th'all-good all-powrefull
God, while self-wills, and fond desires wu'd pull
The Crowne from off his head, so 'gainst our selves.
Who love, they hate, who hate, they love themselves.
But whether are we brought by this sad breach,
Or what was't brought it but our selfish reach.
Or what can binde it up but only Hee
In whom alone we reconciled bee;
That bundle o'life b'whom His are gathered in
To One, to never part their hearts again.
Deare Saviour! Cu'd we pattern lowly Thee,
How willing to our Farhers will wee'd be!
Blest Love that spy'st so rare a policy
Th'Athistick Florentine cu'd ne'r descry.
Stand soule this ground, while Heaven can provide
Himselfe of joy, thy joy must needs abide.
Let him have all, have all, though I get none,
My joy's my Gods content, and not my owne:
Thou canst not Lord displease me, 'nlesse thou wu't
Displease thy selfe, for I will what thou wu't.
Take, take thee all deare Lord, though I get none,
My joy's my Gods content, and so my owne.
(So will the wilfull'st, but passive instruments they,
But of thy grace we actively obey)
My care's to please my husband, so my self,
He that so loves so foolish fond an else
Wu'd undoe all againe to put in selfe
Though taught so well in him t'injoy it selfe.
Th' issue? I nor know nor care, t's my blisse
His pleasure's mine and my displeasure's his;
He beares our burthen we injoy his yoake,
He weares our Thornes that hath our Thrones bespoke.
O cu'd we ever keep us at this pitch
What an untroubled life wee'd leade! how rich
In all contents! nor wu'd there need descents
To lower arguments that can't dispence
Us sollid true substantiall comfort till
We're rais'd to sing, it is our God his will.
The great'st content is none whose grounds not this,
Th' great'st discontent's swallow'd up in this vast blisse;
That beares the soule in an unstopped streame
Of mightie force to'th' pleasure o'th' Suprearme.
The strength of all obedience is this,
It is his will, and not, it is my blisse.
The man that's not alive, can he be strong?
'Tis Love's the life of God; beares all along
With speed, with ease, the Councell ta'ne word given,
No parley's with the flesh, On, on's straite driven
With conquering flames, and if his blood shall rise,
Hee'le lose his blood e're hee'le his God despise.
What chalenge wo'nt he take? what frowns, what blows?
What death's on deaths? who such a Guerdon knowes
Awaites his certaine victory? such a Beautie
As cheares him to and cleares him through his dutie,
VVhose thence infused vigour feares nothing more
Then want of dangert' make the world adore
Those Heart'ning Splendors that in every Ray
Th' all conquering strength o'th' Deity convey.
VVith what Luxuriances the turgent soule
'S borne up beyond the world and hells controule!
O how it longs it longs to be imploi'd
I'th greatest worke the greater love's injoy'd.
How't runnes at halfe a word! how't markes the lippes,
And heares before they speake! away it trip
VVith speedy dilligence and cannot stay
Though th' thrungin'st pressing'st diff'culties beats it way
Snaps off the strongest cords like rotten threads,
Dissects the massiest barres in shivering shreds,
And drives before it all the joyned force
O'th' mighti'st obstacles oppugne its course
And if it feele the least repulse returnes
VVith thrice-redoubl'd couragious onsets, burnes
VVith spirit-incensing indignation to
Be stop't in ought that for his Christ hee'd doe.
The man's in love. The man's in love
VVhose reason's in his Mistresse' will;
This th' Primum Mobile doth move
His mind her madnesse to fulfill.
The man's in love, and loves with skill
VVhose reason's in his Master's will.
The man is mad, her will's no reason.
The man's wise, Reason is his Will.
The man's a Rebell, his love is Treason.
Loyall he whose love His Law fulfils.
Hee's wise that knowes it, he knows that loves it.
He loves, that doth, it; He doth, that loves, it.
PUrities foes swell like a tottering wall,
Threatning whole Kingdoms with their shaking fall;
But they proud fooles are sure to have the worst,
Our shaking settles us, they fall and burst.
Courage my hearts, the joy of God's our strength,
Then joy we most when most we've need of strength.
Courage my hearts, what shall such men as wee?
Such men as wee, shall we once thinke to flee?
Conquerours of Mell and shrinke before a flie?
Sons of the everliving God and feare to die?
Nor is it death, 'tis but the end of death,
Our life's our death, our death 'tis gives us breath;
Unprison'd once ever in the open ayre
Perfus'd with spirits by a spirit so rare,
Pure, simple, life! O that we once were not
That we might be. Courage my hearts, 'tis but
This wall of mud that us and heaven parts.
So ne'r our Center and so slow our hearts?
No holy efforts? Let th' unfaithfull know
Their valour's cowardize to that we show.
Laugh death i'th' face, and shout at his Alarmes,
Imbrace him, kisse him, leap into his armes,
Hee's a nimble messenger will quickly beare us,
Where unconceived endlesse joyes shall cheare us.
'S th' word given? Sa, Sa sa sa sa brave hearts
T's this wall of mud that us and heaven parts.
The wicked is Gods hand, there Sword his Lancet
Pricks our importun'd soule and so advance it.
Which cu'd we as fully espy as when we see
The Chirurgion breathe a veine, how glad wee'd be
T'come under th'cure of such a skilfull hand
Translates us with a touch to th'holy Land.
Feare not he bids, he's with us; now see I
Our soules on Angels wings surmount the skie.
Come let's ascend our Thrones, against our Judges
Sit wth our Judge, while th'gnashtheir teeth wth grudges.
Wee'z see them naked trembling at our sight
Devest of stollen Honours, borrowed might.
Heare them implore the Mountaines, come & end them
But sha'nt so ward the blows, our mouths shal send them.
They shall not scot-free scape; and who can tell
How soon the quiet of the Land may dwell
In homes as quiet as their soules? who knowes
But we may get even this day of our foes.
Th're many, cunning, false, strong, watch, malicious;
He's One, wise, true, ne'r slumbring strength, propitious.
And shall th'e're-waking Judah's Lion wake
And rouze his heart-dead-striking head, hee'le take
Hee'le touze them in his teeth like baffling whelps
And shake them into Atomes. None ther's helps
From his own ceasing straite dismembring paw
Of all contemners of his Gospell-Law.
Come let the Spirits mighty rushing winde
Dispell those clouds from the corrupted mind
The muddy grounds of humane braines exhald
By that false Lucifer, at length b'unvail'd
That beauteous Light of Truth, at length Traditions
Damn'd with the Man of Sin, Sonne of Perdition.
Let's cleare our passage t'immateriat joye
From these materiate obstructions cloy
The Subtle veines of Sin-refined soules
And in the sence the Spirits sweets withholds.
Come lets unstoppe the Conduit pipes of Grace
From mud and trash, the sullied glasse the face
Of Christ that shewes, let's cleare, let's cleare our way
Through Antichrists to Christ, work, wait, praise, pray.
Hold up prevailing hands in praying action
'Gainst Babylon, and the Babylonish faction.
Let God arise display his glorious rayes,
Dispell the infernall mists, obscure his praise,
Undraw the Curtaines intercept his face,
Precipitate each Judah's to his place
Betrayes him with a Ceremonious kisse;
Their Bishopricks be others Benefice;
Clothe him with Purple, cry haile King, bow th'knee,
Yet spit, yet smight, yet naile him to the Tree.
Base spirits can hold and see him so blasphem'd,
Not take his part by who we've been redeem'd.
Courage my hearts, then courage to observe
All's written in his Law, on, no hand swerve.
Help us to help thee Lord against their might;
In thy Pavilion hide's and let them fight.
I'th secret of thy presence lead thy Lambes
In gentle safe conveyance, from the hands,
Pride-cruell hands of men of bloods, then damne,
Then damnifie men-devils if you can.
Die, live we are the Lords, are in our way,
Now beare the Crosse, shall weare the Crown That day.
Nay th' Crosse is boar'n the shame despis'd, and wee
Are glorious in the greatest infamie:
The Crosse is boar'n the feare despis'd, and wee
May, must exult i'th' daring'st jeopardie.
The Crosse is boar'n the griefe despis'd, and we
Are Crown'd with Heaven i'th' Crossing'st miserie.
VVHat ailes me thus this morning? why so dull?
The flesh? the flesh? my life even in the flesh
'S by th'faith o'th' Son of God: O were I full
Of this, I'd walk, I'd run, I'd flie afresh.
Nor faint, nor wearies God, nor I I know
Shall be (but reap) for as he's, I am so.
Up Eagle-wing'd faith! up, remount thy mount
Of Prayer, mount of Transfiguration:
Still in this vaile of Teares? Still shall I count
The tedious houres of this sad alteration.
Still buffeted? Thornes still? Lord perfect then
Thy strength in weaknesse, thy glory's mine, Amen.
HAd I the faith, I could doe all things, cu'd
Turne earth to water, water into ayre,
Aire into fire; from melancholly wu'd
Extract a fluent mildnesse, from that reare
Spirituall breathings, and they wu'd soon take fire
And beare my soul unto its high desire.
So may my faith not only goe beyond
My sence, but go against it, and beyond.
Not only lead my joyes above the earth,
But make my sorrows vanish into mirth.
T's an infant faith that must be handed on
By th'worlds supports, and a decrepit one
That stoops unto the ground, and cannot goe
Without th'upholdings of these Reedes below.
But mine's more ag'd, and shu'd the stronger grow
Int's oldest yeares. So make me Lord to goe
From strength to strength, I may goe all alone,
When but thy Hand, Word, Spirit, help I've none.
When but this help! What? Make a But of That
Which made the world, that Al-sufficient That?
What have I'n Heaven but Thee, in all the Earth
But Thee? My Heaven, my Earth, my All? what mirth
Can all the world possest afford me'if Thou
Art wanting? But Jehovah present, how
Can Worlds, can Hells once move m'with all their ill,
Who have the God that All things hath at will?
When thou that mad'st the Sun to shine on all,
Sha't make th' worlds favours round about me fall,
Shu'd I salute thee with a cheerefull thankes
That may be mine and not thy Spirits thankes.
The very Ethnicks, don't they doe the same?
I nothing singular that beare thy Name?
Who sit'st i'th heavens farre above all feares,
When all the world's together by the eares,
Thou'rt still thy self Happy Happinesse
When all the world blasphemes as when they blesse;
Oh cou'd I keepe my proper place with thee
How farre above the daring'st Ill's I'de be.
I'de play with flames exsult at th' thoughts of death,
And make my troubles keep m' i'th' better breath;
I'de dance upon a dunghill, sing in fire,
I'de make a bed of Roses on a briar,
I'de teach my teares to smile, my sighes to laugh,
My paines to sport, I'de make thy rod my staffe.
Wut teach me this deare Lord, teach teach m'excell;
To be in heaven while I am in hell:
For so was Christ and he and we are Christ,
Be then my dust below I'le be at th' high'st.
What ayl's the livelesse corps whose soule's in heaven
My soule's soule's thou, is thou my soule in heaven.
Heav'n is thy armes thy everlasting armes
Be they still under wher's the hell me harmes.
Let blustering windes and ratling tempests beat
About m'assaulted eares with threats on threats
O'th' terriblest stormes, while I inhoused lie
Imbedded in his Alisufficiencie;
And gather up my soule the closer in
To his inwrapping comforts, while I sing
And they me rock i'th' faster sweeter sleep
Of praising rest i'th' armes alone shall keep
M' in safety, maugre all the enemies
I'th' maddest, forciblest fury; while th'world lies
I'th' armes o'th' airy Prince, who hath the skill
To make faire weather, where he meanes to kill.
ANd have I Lord so often wisht to die,
And yet I cannot live? Have I so lost
My soule for thee, yet finde it cannot I?
Well, still thou'rt good how ever I be crost,
Still will I wish, and wish it with mine heart,
Subvert me Lord, or make me more convert.
What shall I die alive? shall I survive
My selfe? Shall I endure this life of pleasure?
Not I pray day and night? How doe I thrive?
Where are the precious sheaves, the hidden treasure?
Where is my livelyhood, my livelynesse?
Well, yet I have them 'cause I so confesse.
A word soon said, but truly but of those
Whose bleeding-carefull-zealous heart it knowes.
VVOrk on my love, spare not thy pains, 'tis good,
T's a kindly heat, and sweat, what art a drie?
Hungry with exercise? take for thy food
My Flesh, my Blood thy thirst shall satisfie.
Work on, these putrid humours still transpire;
Fresh, pure, sound, by these Alteratives acquire.
I hunger Lord, thirst for thy Righteousnesse,
My zeale doth so consume me, I must have
More food, or faint, much lesse can work afresh.
Hast no vvine t' spare? no Milk? no Hony? I crave
For strength, not lust, not for my selfe but thee;
That by much strength, much honor'd thou mai'st be.
Be they but crums, yet be th' o'th' childrens bread;
Be they but drops, yet be th'o' Salvations Well,
Even those can make a dog a dog that's dead
A living man, these greater wonders tell.
O had I but the bucket 't get a sup?
How soon unto th'spring head 't wu'd mount me up?
Here will I draw, ingage here all my strength,
Tug, pull again, and yet again, and yet
I'le not give over, 't will come I know at length,
It's very aire my hope, that will not let
Me faint, but when 't comes, and I get a drinke,
You that have felt those joyes, what th'are may thinke.
Lightned, inlivn'd, inlarg'd, extold, transport
Beyond my selfe unto my selfe resort.
I see I see, O when shall I once account
My selfe fram'd to this patterne i'the mount.
Vnto my Lord deare Lord make me
So like, that who sees me may see
Him drawne to th' very life, each feature
Each lineament, thus a new creature.
I Am the fountaine and I purpose through
These neighbouring intermixed Channells to
Convey my selfe to each, he who'l not part
His interposing earth, let out his heart,
Reciprocate the freshning streames I send,
May stand, stink, dry, not borrow who'l not lend.
They're Idiots indeed who h've private spirits,
[...].
But who is not himselfe he onely merits
Not to be counted mad, and so sought he
Us not himselfe in whom made wise we be.
We're not our owne, we're purchas'd with a prise
To live no more t' our selves, but now to rise
To higher things to live beyond our selves
In, By, To Him who bought's, brought's off the shelves'
'F so great a death to bring us of our selves
Our greatest death; when selfe-besotted Elfes
Were we dissolved in the open Maine
What spatious libertie were gotten to refraine
Th' land bordering Rockes? O wu'd the righteous Sun
Looke on our frozen hearts, how fast they'd runne
Their hardned selfe contracted clods (so oft
Dash one against another) into soft
To giving inlarged streames wu'd friendly close
Themselves? wu'd quickly in each other loose
And all with sweet concurrence nimbly flow
To their imbracing Ocean. O wu'd we soe
Change each to other till we each were none
With what advantage shu'd we be our owne?
For one have all, thus happily unite
Are growne too strong for th' world for hells despight
We 're all disjoyned by our fall, but set
In one againe the greater strength we get.
What I lay out in prayers purse, study paines
For them with how farre multiplyed gaines
Of quick returnes I finde them all in theirs.
Shu'd I as I shu'd not be overwhelm'd with teares,
Feares griefes grow weak and feeble, or as I shu'd
Be alwayes poore and needy in spirit how good
How good it is to know that he who is
In all my thoughts hath me in his,
Who is more beneficiall by one thought then all
The world can be by all their deeds. I fall
No sooner now but straite one helpes me rise.
So farr's two better in one, how rais'd how high's
My drooping soule? though absent in the body
Present i'th' spirit with all the spirituall body.
How heartily I joy in, sweetly injoy
Their better ordered more establish'd joy!
M' affections are not mine nor theirs are theirs
But each in th' other's mirth and sorrowes shares.
How steddy stand in ballance't griefes and joys
While others still supply fresh counter poyses?
I live not in my self but them-and-thee;
Live thou and they, and that's enough for mee.
I live not in my self but them-and-thee;
Live thou and they, I needs must living be.
And if all comforts God-and-h's Saints comprises
All comfort then from one another rises.
Conspire we then in one, in one expire,
That makes his melting Saints a mounting fire.
'Tis good being here, and hither rise might all
Wh'have skill have will int' one and other t'fall.
But he that will be of himselfe
May glut not glad himself with pelfe.
Yea let him laugh his belly full,
Yet doth the shark himself but gull;
His seeming sweet straite turnes to gall,
And vomits straite his stollen all,
His Done joy's cooled by and by
With reall ills in Fieri.
But stay, all this is but to seek my selfe
While I am studying how to loose it, I
Must flie a braver pitch, far far more high
Above the thoughts of all this selfish pelfe.

ACtion is the life of a Christian, it is death to him not to be stirring. He cannot rest in himself, though, nay becausefill'd with the greatest contents. He receiveth to doe, but the wicked doth to receive. His pleasures, his joys, his delights, are displeasures, are troubles to him if they doe not run forth themselves into God. Hence the [Page 105]soule at his stillest, and retiredest recesses is still putting out its heart, and breathing forth it selfe in praises, stu­dying and contriving wayes of activenesse for the glory of its God; and hence the poore soule, though indeed only rich, when it lyes at an under, in truth the very heighth of Christianity, cries out, O it cannot doe, it cannot doe. Blessed soule, that art estranged to thy self, that hast forgotten thy selfe and all thy good deeds, as things not worth the looking after, and hast got so for­ward in the wayes of holinesse, to be still more pressing onward to the marke, in a more speedy and active course, by how much the nearer thou commest to it: Thou that knowest what it is to cry out, enough Lord, mercy enough, vvhat are those sweet pangs and blessed conflicts of soule under a divers notion, the while thou over-powred with apprehension of that Unspeakable Gift, in whom is given thee all things richly to enjoy, & now labouring under some present distemper, and be­ing thereby led back to the remembrance of its roote and originall, art so overcome with the sight of thine owne altogether unworthinesse of the least mercy, thou dost even sinke and fall under such weighty and over­bearing thoughts, with a sweet-humble-resignment of thy selfe, as now no more thy selfe, and so with an ho­ly kinde of carelesnesse as concerning thy selfe, art be­come willing to suffer, to doe, to be any thing for thy God, and in that respect, the while thou tacitely, and most effectually deprecatst these, petitionst for the remo­vall of these distempers, disturbances, indispositions, &c. as of themselves impediments to the more active duty, and the more manifest expression of the divine glory, though indeed these sweet impressions are not a little [Page 106]tending to it. The sinceritie, the humilitie, the love the zeale that is more intentively active within, breaking forth with so much the more strength and vigour. And what can the most eminent, lively, stirring and active Christian doe of himselfe, since the strongest is as weake as the weakest without God, and the weakest as strong as the strongest with him; who accepteth the sincere, heartie, studious indeavoring will for the deed; and will thus accept of thy mite, that thus throwes away thy self as it were that throwes in heart and all, although in the mea­nest and weakest performance, as desiring no mercies to thy selfe, but to returne them as tributary streames to their first spring, even this shall he accept before all the Rivers of Oyle, all the bodies that may be given to be burnt by a selfe seeking Pharisee that is still returning and winding about to himselfe like those waters of Ponds, Meers and Lakes that run into themselves [...] Psal. 58. that are not acted by an inward principle to a selfe-withdrawing selfe-outing end, but are meerely agitated by winds by externall motions, and still move within the compasse of themselves and therefore dry away, and perish with the hypocrite. And this do­ing is no doing, or if any, is aliud agere is male agere, that thus beginnes and ends in it selfe. But what dost thou O man of whom God requires onely that thou shouldest doe justice and walke humbly with thy God? And what is it to doe justice, but to give every man his right, and for every man to give thee O Lord thine; all he doth, he hath, he is; all his pleasures, all his possessions, all his abilities, of which all since he can give thee nothing, what cause hath he to walke humbly with his God? And what infinitely sweet humble action and active humilitie is that that brings us to walke, to [Page 107]converse, to have fellowship with such an infinitely sweete God, the author, the finisher of our ever infinitely sweete humilitie; O who would not now humbly act in all, and aske his mirth what Doth it, and account his laughter madnesse, runnes a round of selfe con­ceited pleasure and is not like a line that takes its be­ginning and ending in thee, that conveyes not the soule along to thee onely? Who would not Ecco to the command of, Come doe my will, with a readie and spee­dy I come I come to doe thy will? If there be any truth even in naturall love, is it not when it not receives for it selfe, but doth for its beloved, even to the undergoing the greatest paine, the losing of the dearest life, can na­ture live by, doe, die for love, and shall not grace make nature subservient to Thee in all these? and what ever there may be more then these; where can the man finde himselfe that knowes thee, that loves Thee as he should as hee would! here is the man that sees so much of Heaven that nothing but the love of God can make him meddle with a thought of the earth, while the God-unacquainted soule sees so much of earth that nothing but the love of himselfe can make him to meddle with a thought of heaven; all the glories of the Kingdomes of the world may well passe away as shaddowes, vanities, nothings before the soule that in his Christ sees his God, when the least tempting Apple may loose him that is not secured in this blest premunition. And to that happie condition is the soule brought, and that is it which brings the soule to that happy condition, that lookes after the world and Heaven for God, when the other after God for the world and Heaven; so while hee makes him­selfe [Page 108]his God, makes himselfe a devill, while the other in making himselfe Gods, makes God himselfe; while he drawes in onely that hee might poure out, God poures in unto them while he is drawing forth, while he takes his graces themselves drinkes and fills his belly with those living waters to this prime and principall end that the overflowing thereof may make glad the city of God, and carry both himselfe and it to be swallowed up of that infinite ocean of loves and sweetnesses. A Christian is (at least, should be) so rich with content so superaboun­ding with such an exuberancy of the milke and hony of Canaan, that like the distended udders of high fed Kine, it even lookes to be drawne forth, and longs for some to be taken into the partnership of its joyes and graces; so far should he be out of any impotencie and incontinen­cie of spirit to be carried out to the fond desires of the creature, to pitchupon it as his happiness. Neither is there any thing I know that doth more raise, more innoble the soul then this open heartednesse, this freenesse of spirit, nothing that makes it more like God himselfe, whom it hath, in whom it lives beaming forth the Sunne of its fa­vours and beneficialnesse to all that come within the compasse of his Horison and (as he hath conveniency) choses the emptiest vessell to communicate his ful­nesse to, both of graces and common gifts, still like his God that professeth himsefe to delight most in the com­pany of the humblest to be in a speciall manner the God of the needy, the fatherlesse, the widdow the stranger, so hee seekes the most indigent object to draw out his soule unto, and delights in delighting the comfortlesse; as he that findes it more blessed, more glorious (because more like to, more full of God) to give then to receive. [Page 109]As he that is still calling his faith to account, to see what it layes out in action. How stirring, how operative it is, how it workes by love, whether it love not it selfe more then God, whether it be not more for receiving then do­ing? As knowing it a most strongly denying expostu­lation, an evident brand of an unbeliever, and that by him who best knew how to give every thing its proper mark: How can ye believe which receive honour (and conse­quently pleasure, profit, &c.) one of another, and not seek for that which commeth from God only. Now what greater honour can there be to a man, then to have his workes beare witnesse that the Father hath sent him, to be inabled to doe, to give any thing to God (as he is who does, gives to any in his name) what greater plea­sure, profit, then to be the servant of God, imployed in his businesse, to live in his sight, to walk before him, to be at his finding? But those miserable niggardly pinch­ing soules, that are unacquainted with these inlargings, these fully satisfying apprehensions, no marvell they are still raking, scraping, and scrabling on the Dunghill for rotten rags. Certainly the soule that hath ever had any quick, lively, intimate, thorough resentments of the Di­vine Loves shed abroad in its heart, that hath ever feel­ingly found that God hath not a faithfull industrious ser­vant, who hath not him an indulgent Father, a dearely affecting Husband, an inestimable Portion, cannot be base, cannot but live at an high rate, as he that knowes the raising thoughts of so high dignity; cannot but spend freely, communicate liberally, munificently, as not ig­norant of those Mines, those treasures inexhaustibly infi­nite, that are ever ready for his supply. Cannot but be mercifull, and lending, while he still guides his affaires [Page 110]with discretion, and hath an eye too to that discretion, lest it should befoole him in degenerating into basenesse, and slily winde him about into himselfe, while he is stu­dying how to outgoe himselfe in keeping the precise, and narrow path prescribed him. Or rather an eye to it, lest it be false and counterfeit, it being impossible for Truth but to be ever like it selfe. This is he that cannot effeminate enervate himself in delicacies, and pleasures, while he knowes none but in God, and they flowing in­to his soule like a spring of life, and vigour, that beare him forth in a voluble, diffusive, indefatigable course of activity in well doing, while they still bathe him in in­conceivable refreshings, unimaginable delights. This is not a man that is but the name and shaddow of one, while like a brute beast he is carried on to eating, drink­ing, sleeping, or any naturall desire, and pleasure, out of a meere [...] impetus, and propulsion of Concupis­cence from somewhat to be received from them to himselfe. But the very doing of these obedientially as duties, as ordinances for somewhat to be done by them in a way of a further self-emptying and transacting him­selfe into God, is that which makes this very thing the service of God, when the most glorious performances, the most publike beneficialnesse, the most pain-taking actions, activity in things materially good, is but serving themselves, and the devill. So that that mans pleasure is Gods service, because he makes Gods service his pleasure and this mans paines-taking in the best duties is a serving the devill, because it is the pleasing himselfe; the godly man acting not because it is pleasing to him, but it is pleasing to him because it is action, the other contrary; the godly, not that he may get to himselfe, but that he may get to God (and so indeed to himselfe) [Page 111]counting Gods glory his greatest good. And therefore imployes himselfe in that which is most singular, and especially serviceable to God and Gods, and not in that which is most profitable to himselfe, he had rather spend thousands of pounds, of yeares, of any thing in the ser­vice of God, then the least penny, the least minute, the least any thing in the service, or (to say righter) the sla­very of himselfe; as he that counteth his pleasures his works and duties, and his works & duties his pleasures, the doing of the will of God his meat and drink, and his meat and drink the doing of the will of God. And this were an excellent way to make us humble in excellen­cies, temperate in delights, diligent in action, and for a­voiding those three consociating and Nation-destroy­ing sins, Pride, Idlenesse, and fulnesse of Bread. So may we make an especiall use of that common by-word, que­stioning and examining our desires, when they call us to, or put us upon any thing, What to doc. And thus Christi­an I greet thee with that ancient salutation [...]. Doe well, and farewell. And indeed our owne, when wee ask one another how wee doe, and wish­ing one another may doe well, imports no lesse, but that to do well, is to be well. Neither is the description of bo­dily health disagreeable to that of the soul, it being such a frame and constitution of it, whereby it is fit and ready for the discharge of its severall duties, in their right-due maner. So that they describe it not so much by its enjoy­ing it self in a sweet and fresh temperature, resulting from the well symmetrizing of humors, and confermation of parts, as by its right & ready toward lines to requisite acti­ons. So the soul then healthy, not so much in regard of the joy & comfort that it finds in God, as of the vigor by it, the active disposition, the operativenesse towards him. [Page 112]Though indeed that cannot be without, nay without be­ing the author of this, nor this without some measure at lest of that. The sincere soul making its worke its wages, its dutie, its delight. Grace being now growne, as I may say, a second nature it being connaturall to him, and therefore as, nay more, pleasing in its actions, than those of our first could be; the one being but Gods ordinary common, the other his especiall choise extraordinary dispensation of himself. Grace being the spirit of Christ working on us, in us, and through us, beginning, con­tinuing, and ending all in it selfe; happy Soule that knowes what is the study of selfe-deniall, never can wee finde any where more of sweetnesse, because no where more of God. O could we make this our Hoc age our businesse, our one thing, whether wud it leade us, where wud it loose us, even to the following of God fully to be full of him, and still to follow him, to emptie and fill, fill and emptie in a most sweet and blessed exercise of soule till we lay downe in everlasting rest and peace, wholly emptied of our old and dying, wholly filled with our new & everliving selves! O the unserchablenesse, the unconceiveablenesse of the Love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord! O the depth of its humility, the heighth of its zeal, the latitude and length of its obedience, what thing, what time can bound it! O what is it can so free, can so en­large so sublime the heart, as the giving it up to the hands of its God, to be guided by him, at his pleasure! Can the soule contain it selfe within it selfe, that hath these thoughts. O when shall we know what it is, that single­nesse of heart, that being but one soule, but one heart! When shall we be like so many closing pieces of tender waxe before the fervent heat of the Sun? When shall we [Page 113]be dissolved, when runne into one another, and all into one holy Lumpe. Even so Lord Jesus come quick­ly.

1 Cor. 10.24. Phil. 2.4, 5. &c. 21.
Sic nos non nobis.
So we not for our selves have fame;
So we not for our selves have gaine;
Nobis n [...] nati sum [...]
So we not for our selves have pleasure;
So we not for our selves have
Omnia mea temp amicorum temporib [...] absumend putavi C [...] Perdidid [...] em. (quun [...] nemini be nefecisset) Titus Imp [...] ­rator.
leasure.
So have nor mind's nor bodie's health
To keep t' our selves our selves is stealth.
So nothing for our selves we have,
But have for Him that all things gave.
So all things for our selves we have;
Since He who all, Himselfe us gave.
GOes th' Boate uneaven? Leane the other way;
So with more safetie and with lesse delay.
In joying grieve, and in thy grieving joy,
So neither change shall worke thee such annoy.
'Ts the man that makes his fortune: Ever's he
Prosperous thar learnes, loves, wills, adversitie.
Then learne this lesson and 'tis worth the while,
Let sorrow be the shaddow of thy smile.
Be not so joviall, frolicke; so profuse,
Least plung'd, up swimme thou canst not through disuse.
That mirth is madnesse where's no ponderousnesse,
For reason's weightie, and imports no lesse
Then God the moving cause, who once in thought
The faithfull soule in fearefull joy is brought.
Great God! I sinke w'th that All-contayning name
Good God! my burthen and my Heaven's the same.
What heart-betraying world wu'dst have me joy?
Ile turne my joy to my God-joying grace,
And that will quickly give true griefe its place:
While both together sit with sweet accord
And make my heart the musicke of my Lord.
Or think'st to quell me with thy fell Anno [...]?
Ile turne my griefe to my God-grieving sinne,
And that will quickly turne to joy agin.
Nay they are one, for they agree in one
Blest Father, sorrow smiles while joy doth moane.
Both fall about his necke and kisse, brave sight,
To see Griefe weepe for joy, the day through night.
Thrice happy man this happy temper keeps!
As th' golden Sunne through th' Silver droppings peeps
Upon the flowring earth, or softly playes
O'th' gliding streames with'ts gently glittering Rayes;
As th' modest smilings o' the native Heat
Nor Chronick nor acute diseases threat.
Thus wud'st thy sence-refined faith imploy
Thoud'st th'one from th'other reciprocally draw.
And in the Trinessence of both compose
The temper wu'd heaven in earth, God-man disclose.
Thus griefe should loose its name and nature, be
Swallowed up of Glorying Humilitie.
Humble I shall be in Heaven. O!'th' weight o'th' Love
O'th' Love presses my soule to solid joyes!
My spungy soule so often shrunk and swel'd.
Glorious I am on earth. O! th' heighth o'th' Love,
O'th' Love raises my soule t'an humble poyse!
A temper ad pon dus might exactnesse dwell
On this side th' Empyraean! so be I still
Tempered to Justice, till on Sions Hill
The Spirit-pondering-God shall find me weight
Made me meete to live at such a glorious height.

LOok not so much at the present as the future, having eye in adversitie to prosperity, and prosperitie to adversitie; learne to estrange neither from your thoughts, that you may welcome either; they are guests that looke for successive entertainement, be not so free to one, as that the other take you unprovided: they are enemies to each other, and yet an indifferent respect may make them both friends to you; be acquainted, yea familiar with both, but indeare your selfe to neither; deny nei­ther of them admission to your head, so shall you both the possession of your heart; keepe correspondency with both and you are safe, but give your selfe to either, and it will leade you you know not whither; you are betray­ed, you are lost, you shall be set upon, now by the one, now by the other, and become a slave to both; you shall then learne that it is better to observe ten then serve two; be not led so much by sight of what is, as foresight what may be, not so much by sence as by reason, and not so much by reason as faith, for that is beast-like, and lookes but downeright, this man-like and lookes forward, but this last, Christian-like and looks upward. Labour then to know no such things as adversitie and prosperitie, but as the will or not the will of God in your having or not ha­ving [Page 116]these outward things, and learne this excellent Art of composing a meane out of two extreames. Take somewhat of the sweet to qualifie the soure, and of the soure to qualifie the sweet, yet let it savour most of the most benigne, to which the other is but subservient. It is the soure griefe and fulsome joy that distempers, but it is the joyfull griefe and grieving joy that is the sweete the onely gracefull temper. I deny not but changes of State may move you, but they must not remove you, they may somewhat alter the affection, but must nothing alter your station; suppose you sing the more cheerefully in the Sun shine and weepe the more freely in the storme, yet must you mourne in this singing, and rejoyce in this weeping; this Aequanimity, unwaveringnesse, standing, even, upright posture of soule is that which may be de­monstrated the best, in that the excellency of every thing is according to its likenesse, or rather partaking of that onely excellency, and therefore as of his simplicitie and infinitie in the inlargednesse and puritie of heart, so its immutabilitie in the steadfastnesse and immoveable­nesse of our mind; these being as necessarily concomitant to the proportion of our holinesse as they are to his sim­plicitie, there being nothing to bound or alter that that is unmixed, free, absolute, & hath nothing to hinder it in its perfection. And for that suiting our selves to others, our sympathising teares and smiles, I thinke it so farre from being inconsistent with this, that it cannot well consist without it, for how else shall I accommodate my selfe to my friends in their present contrary extremities, how weepe with them that mourne, and rejoyce with then that rejoyce at the same time. Nor can we finde a greater helpe and furtherance to our promoving and progresse [Page 117]in our Christian course then this unmooveablenesse in respect of digression. But if this station of soule bee vergent to either hand, better to sadnesse (I meane not of harshnesse, discontent, or any kind of malignitie, but a more solemnesse, retirednesse of spirit) then to jollitie, slightnesse, flashinesse, pragmaticalnesse, idle­busibodiednes, &c. nothing that I know arguing a man of a more emptie and worthlesse spirit. By the sadnesse of the countenance the heart is made better; more pon­dering, more wary, more capable of councell, diligent in action; againe, love is more taking with ingenious, then terrour with base and servile spirits, Gods mercy in Christ will sooner fetch them up, then all his threatnings cast these downe. And indeed a Christian (so farre as understanding himselfe, the ground and use of his owne affections) cannot but pleasure in his sorrow, delight in his mourning in his brokennesse, in his contrition of heart, because, delights in doing the will of God, because, he sees the hand of God working it, feeles it kneading as it were, subduing, fashioning it to his owne mind, be­cause, his affections are answerable to God's, he delights in that which God delights, and further, knowes neither it, nor ought else of worth, further then sub­servient, conducible, advantagious to his love, his joy, his confidence in, his magnifying of Christ, &c. so his joy must needs have a touch, a tincture of greefe; be­cause he lookes on it as on all his affections, as matter of dutie and obedience (else wu'd they not differ from bruit beasts) because bid rejoyce in the Lord alwayes, againe bid to rejoyce; but now he cannot so looke on it, but with a sweet & gratious regret, to see it no more, be­cause no more pure, that hath so infinit so holy a God for its object, for its only object, either immediatly, or at least [Page 118]mediatly. And so indeed this very griefe cannot but in­tend, confirme, consolidate his joy in an humbly-thank­full (the onely comfortable and truly joyfull) posture of soule, to see in what a sweet and gratious temper the di­vine goodnesse maintaines it, whose rich and abundant mercy it is that it finds any the least smatch of true and reall peace. And I am perswaded, that even in heaven it selfe these hints and relishes of our owne unworthinesse, made worthy in Christ, of such an enmitie reconciled in such a unity, will much further, intend and extend these inimaginable joyes. Sure I am they are a heaven upon earth. And this, this onely is the griefe becomming a Christian, that lead'st it to the purest-and-sublimed'st joyes. Those feares those tremblings that keepe the soule in the humblest selfe-debasing, and therefore at the highest exaltation.

Let no man part what God hath put together,
Hence all our woes, what he hath jony'd we sever.
From one another our affections goe,
And all from Him, and hence is all our woe.
VV—
— Here now my soule!
Dost heare him bid theetouch the world? thou may'st,
But with thy Head, thy Hand; thy Heart's displac'd,
Is out of joynt if't be a jot from Him
That tries thee how thou canst be out while in
The world thou seem'st. I am continually with thee.
With him sweet Psalmist! may I, may I too be.
I'de too refuse these miserable joyes
And waite for them are mixt with no annoyes.
'Tis basenesse to be cozen'd, I'de better know
I want, then want most when I least thinke so.
Give me the right or none, no painted grapes,
My stomacke's wiser than to feed on shapes.
Though th' Divell play the Zeuxis, and wu'd cheat
Me with a neat drawne colour, I have meat
Of such experienc't and approved worth
Attends the craving soule, I'le ne're go forth
To tamper with his hooked flies, his pitfall chaffe,
His net-alluring glasse, his braine-sicke laugh.
Hence jiggish joyes, give me the solemne sound
Whose Treble's zeale, humilitie the ground,
God makes the meane, compleats the Harmony,
For never two but three in one agree.
And hence vain man thou and thy joyes so jarre
Because the God of unitie's so farre
From triviall pleasures; Long enough may'st lay
The world to thine hearts eare, thinke now to play
Some pretty toy, but nere can'st bring't in tune,
Or if thou bring'st it in 'tis out as soone.
The thing's now absent to the mind, the mind
Now to the thing, when met are straite disjoyn'd.
Let's outside joy be other where obtruded,
That at th'best but circum praecordia ludit,
But playes about the heart, the while 'tis sad
I'th' mid'st of'ts joviall'st mirth; give me th' joy glads
I'th' mid'st of its saddest sorrowes; let my Spirit
Rejoyce, rejoyce In Spirit; I this demerits
The name of mirth indeed, when th' heart doth enter
Into 't, and it into the heart its center,
Secur'd from th' reach o' th' worlds disturbance, while
'Tis inside outside guarded from its guile
Its thickest terriblest assailings, if
The treacherous flesh betray 't not; when a whiffe
O'th' ruder winds blowes the th'other cleane away;
This weightie, watchfull, inward joy shall stay.
Delight's the life of nature; 't cannot live
But 't must have somewhat may contentment give.
But I'le take none o'th' false, and so of force
My soule unto the true will take its course.
My soule unto the true hath tane its course,
That onely, that can make me false divorse.
Then may it be for ever strongly bent
On thee, in thee may dwell; I thus intent,
Come worlds come divels they may have never an eare,
May have no part in me while I am here,
Still busied, working me out of my selfe
Int' him, whom while I see, I see all 's pelfe.
And happy sure here's happy worke enough
Still to bespeake me from this paltry stuffe.
Here Here's the ground and Piller of thy blisse,
Thy Christ, thy God: thy God thy Christ ne're misse.
With whom while thou shalt be, Hee'le be with thee,
With whom it is eternall life to be.
T'S the halest ablest-bodied man, and at
The high'st embonpoint of Athletique state
Workes long'st and hardest with the least supply
Of fresh repasts; as he whose symmetrie
Of nature-consentaneous juyces, i'th'
Th' abundance of their strength, 's not troubled with
Those oft sharpe gnawings of Hetrogeneous humors,
Nor over-evacuation following tumors.
That that's the halest strongest Christian
Best longest worke with least o'th' creature can;
For he hath most of God, and who hath so
He little cares which way the world will goe.
'T shall never touch his heart, nor taske his braine
To lay about to fetch it backe againe.
As he whose lines are fallen in a faire
Large pleasant place, is made for th' worse to care.
If't 'll come by faire meanes well and good, hee'le use
It when, and as he thinks convenient, loose
'T he will ere hee'le imploy the smallest foule;
Imploy't he doth that lets it pinch his soule.
T's the soundest body that feeds o'th' simplest fare;
The soundest soule that makes his God his fare.
A happy man the spirit 'f a healthie mind
Can in a health-injoying body finde.
A happie man the spirit 'f a healthy minde
Can in a health-deprived body finde.
LIft up prevailing hands in praysing action
'Gainst Edom and the Edomitish faction.
There are they fallen, proud Prilistims withall
Their Ashdod brats; so let them, let them fall
And never rise, while on our Harpes we sing
The song of Moses and the Lambe our King.
Victorious meekenesse! gird thy all-conquering sword
Unto thy potent thigh, give give the word
Unto thy Heavenly Host they'l straight conjoyne
With earths celestiall Armies; then combine
Rome, Spaine, France, Hell take the devill and all,
The Mitred Captaines of the high Priests Hall.
Come on brave Borgias with your pransing horse,
Yee Popes deare Nephewes, or which sounds the worse
Though th' same his Base Sons, whom he hath begot
On an unwedded Church. Change Cannon shot
Into the shot of Cannon Tout d'an coup
Devoure th' Presicians, they 're a slender soup
T' a Pulpit full of Sack, a slippery yolke
In lustie Muskadine, they'l never choake
So well wash't downe with blood; but if you thinke
You'z finde as hard worke as ye had to get a drinke
O'th' wary Scot; close noddles, constult together,
Hoord up i'th' deep'st Abbisse 'f y'r holy Father
Jesuitick plots, say a confederacie,
But 't shall not stand till truth it selfe can lie.
Come gather then together, and be ye broke
T'irrecomposible peeces. He hath spoke.
Still will he thinke ye ride upon an Asse?
No no, his white steed's mounted, Hee'l surpasse
Your forciblest finenesses; Jerusalem
Leape, leape for joy, Thy King comes and doth hem
Thee round with mightie mountaines, and his Hoste
Is all prepar'd thine enemies to accoast.
For His are thine, for thou art His, then boast
The in thee Lord thy God when thou art in th emost
Inextricable dangers. Here I here's
A Saint-like patience, thus to chant the blisse
Of bleeding wounds, while their Te Deums charmes
Fond soules with Swan-like songs, our harmelesse harmes
Shall sweetly breathe in sighes triumphant layes
Of conquering Iös, while our blood shall praise
That name above the proudest wrath, and raise
A generation that shall Babell raze.
Stones shall be Churches, and dead bones shall live
E're God his glory unto Rome shall give.
Ther's breath enough in heaven and dust on earth
To build more men to ruine all her mirth.
How heaven derides these Gotham sages, wu'd
Drowne Eeles i'th' water, drowne the Church in blood?
What? 's the Parisian massacre forgot
How crown'd with many a thousand Huganot?
Or th' Marian flames? how oft th' Prelatique hands
Were crowded with increasing Puritans?
Or those Ten Prim'tive persecutions, what
But more Christs-honourers hath their crueltio got?
But still the devill's the divill, although he know
He workes the Saints more weale himselfe more woe,
So mad is envie, 't had rather loose both eyes
Then 'ts neighbour's one shud see 'ts deformities.
Courage my hearts, we nor our cause can die,
Nay we may live to see proud Aegipt lie
Dead on the shore. What feare we? Th' Wonderfull
In Skill, Power, Peace, Love 's ours; what shall they pull
The Palme from Him? or shall they rend a Limbe
Fro' th' Father of Spirits? hurt the eye of Him
Whose voyce is thunder and his eves are fire,
Who hands their breath? then have they their desire,
And ne'r till then. Thus in my Fort, my Peace,
My Castle-Christ, my flaming Wall, ne'r cease
There are they fallen (yea though I thinke I fall
And all my fellow souldiers, for thus call
We death, because we thinke it so, when 'tis
The onely rise unto our perfect blisse)
Th' irrevocable word 's past, decree 's sign'd;
All things are present to a faithfull minde:
For hee sees all in God, but he sees all
At once; and thus while he beholds, hee'le call
Things past and future present, things that are
As they were not, that are not as they were;
Let kingdomes clash, and their foundations shake,
Haughtie hearts shrinke to their heele, let fury take
The loftiest Hills and hurle them in the Maine;
Let th' lively Sun his sprightly raies refraine
And wraps 's in sable might; let heaven and earth
Meet in confusion, while hell yawnes; our mirth,
Shall that be swallowed up by this? our joy
That none can take away? no foe n' annoy?
Rouse up brave spirits, glorifie the name
Of that great God that ever is the same,
And we in Him; life, death, principalities,
Powers, things present, things to come, shall these
Disjoyne us from our God? if once in Him
One as He is One? What is it that can dim
Our glorious inutterable joy
That sparkles purer luster from th' alloy,
(That streames more radiant luster from th' alloy)
Of foyling griefe? A joy whose native heate
Growes stronger by the winter winds that beate
Upon 'ts concentred spirits; A joy that rises
Higher yet higher by the fresh surprises
Of 'ts Arke-secured braveries from all
The Ocean-inundations can befall.
Nay leade me captive griefe, yet one I know
Shall captive thy captivitie, and show
Thy open spoyles as Trophes, while I sing
How sweet's the memory of sower? to bring
To minde those tempests past, while hous'd in heaven
I feast on Leelesse Wines, rich marrow and leaven.
Untouched bread. So great ill turn'd to well
'Tis makes his glory-and-my good excell.
Ther's nothing, nothing ill but all is well
Is alway well to those whose wayes excell.
Thus is th' upright as farre from's neighbour as hell
From heaven; here well is ill, there ill is well.

Nullius addictus jurare in verba Magistri.

—NO, give me
A Philosophick Ingenuitie;
A Bacon, Luther, truth-exploring braine,
Can cull the Wheate from th' Chaffe, and bring a graine
To th' graynarie of knowledge; no lazie pate
Will nothing else but reade, heare, transcribe, translate,
And take what's brought it at adventure an idle drone
Will suffer any thing ere't will worke▪ but one
Whose naturalls can't indure t' be Aristotl'd
With ipse dixits, nor his spiritualls throtl'd
W'th a Spirituall Lord's irrefragable propositions;
But h's free-borne spirit mak's exquisite inquisitions
I'th' depths of grace and nature; scornes to have
His judgement strangled like a Turkish slave
B' usurping tiranny; a noble soule
Whose understanding w'll suffer no controule,
But from his Soveraigne's Vice-Roy, Rationall
Faith, faithfull reason. A God-taught soule, in all
Consults with, credits him. No tell him o'th' Fathers,
He hath but one and that's in heaven, and he who gathers
From him instructions, as a guided guide
Hee'l use h'm if needs, but first w'il hath' father well tri'd
By his, not his by th' Father, though he be as old
As superannuated Pauls, as bold,
As peremptorle as he that raskal'd Calvin
As Holy as his Holinesse no reverend Calvin,
I'de rather be a freemans slave, be thine,
Then be a slave to slaves; they'le draw mee fine
Directions, whose selves are but th' Amanuenses
Of their imperious lusts; They'le make offences
Of working on a play day, and none of playing
Upon an holy day; whose sweet'st mouth'd sayings
Sic volo, sic jubeo stat pro ratione voluntas
Import to a discreete subaudi, as
What devillisher a Tyrant then a slave?
Heele ride to th' devill, and all the world wu'd have
To beare him company; but stay Sainctes Peres,
Or go if you will, y'l ne'r meet with Sainct Pierre's
Keyes, nor St. Pauls Cathedrall there, how e're
Yee may with their attendants. But whether wut be are
M' incensed muse? Reclaime, no further forth,
Why flyest thou after Rookes? they are not worth
Thy looking on, thy slightnig'st, passing'st thought;
How came I then thus unawares transport?
I love thee Truth and thence it is I hate
Truth hating falfehood with a perfect hare.
I can as well conteine my roused Spirits
As bound the Ocean when thou bid'st it ferrie its
Orerunning waves beyond its bounding banks.
What heaven-taught soule can brook these hell-learn'd pranks?
Sum Liber natus educatus and
I can't indure be under Romes command.
The truth hath made me free and I am free
Indeed, and shall I againe in bondage be?
No hang 'em all, an hundred thousand Jesuits
And Jesuitized Buy-shops, these pirckly Jebusites
And Thorny Canaanites; too long the'ave beene
The outers of our eyes while ran us in
The persecuted sides; and thou great God
That mak'st my flesh to tremble, what period
Will madnesse put to its untamed pride,
That dares to pierce th' omnipotent his side,
His eye, his heart? and is thy glory not
As deare to thee as life? what seeke they but
That dreadfull glory, Thy prerogative?
Their will must be our reason, and we must live
At their selfe-wir'd devotions, according to
Their monstrous wisedome, not subordinate to
Th' Creators word. Behold the men are God,
Are b'come like one of them these od
'Cause-God uneavened soules, the 'le not derive
Their pollicies from him, and won't he drive
These Rebels out from their fooles Paradice?
They shan't survive our hopes, and ever tice
Fond soules with Coapes and Popes, with Chringes, Crosses,
In the immedi­ate, so­lemne, publike Worship, before a promiscu­ous peo­ple, whose Art and Heartleave them far below the subservien­cie of such meanes.
Pipes, Poppets, Surplus, and the Service tosses
The Psalmes like Tennis balls, the while they yawle
Like Primmer Chits at their lessons, and terribly bawle
With such a mad confusion as if all
Zeale lay i'th' tongue and th' eare, nor need we r'call
The spirits to the heart in a staid still posture
To sing with grace within. Still shall they foster
VVinde-sucking soules with superstitious milke
The while they ruffle it in their braving silke?
And like the childe that prides it in its new
Gay sleeves, how burnish, swell at every view?
VVho dares come nigh 'em now unlesse he w'ud
Be brow-beaten to the channell, unlesse he stood
H's due distance cap in hand. And Sirra you
Looke that you preach me thus and thus, you'le rue
'T else, and he may believ't by h's torvid lookes
On th' Grave learn'd pious Minister whose bookes
He is not worthy t' beare; so sturdy and stout
'S advanced villany, so pestilent devout
Ther's not a Puritan but hee'le roote him out.
(How strong Robustious lusty frollicke spracke
Th' zeale kindled with a cup of bribing Sacke)
Now downe goes th' wicked houses all about
The sacred Temple, and that malapert
Parochiall childe that dares s' unmannerly perk
I'ts lolling head upon its Mothers side,
I'ts reverend aged Mother, I can't abide
Th'indecencie and disorder, strike't to th' ground
That not a stone upon a stone be found,
VVhen forreigne and domestique Catholiques
Come by and see this Massie Aedifice
S' entire, compleate a Masse of holy stones,
'T will make 'em all turne Protestants at once.
But what, when heare it in? when see within
As pretty Babes as Babie e're hath seene?
They'd shake the cap from any wondring clowne,
And summons all the children of the towne.
Dim-sighted Gransiers, and ye moap-ey'd dames
Here's curious spectacles to cleere your aymes.
Poore Soules! How ridiculous your folly! but yee,
How lamentable! And cu'd I shew you the
Soft pitty turnes my bowels; and make you see
Th'wild fury turnes your braines, how glad you'd be
Your soules were rid o'th' servitude of men,
Your hearts were humble, self-denying; then
They'd be th'free-schooles o'th' highest Majesty,
Where he wu'd sit and wu'd your Master be.
The humblest, praying'st, meditating'st soules
Are those with whom he most communion holds.
There's no man I call master, only One
Me th'truth in Him-the-only-Truth hath showne.
In this Light see I light, light am I in this,
And where I a' n't, more intimately into His
Ile get, and be, till I in every part
Shall meet himselfe, from th'interoccurring dark
Deliver'd, and make my sence-beshadowed faith
Pellucid sence; i'th' meane, heare what he saith
Hath promis'd hee'le never leave his Saints untaught,
But into All Truth they shu'd by his Spirit be brought.
And when I learne of any, it shall bee
O'th' humblest men, for most of God they see.
'Ts the sight of God makes th'only kindly breach
On th'heart, the head doth only truly teach;
But when in Heaven, I most of God shall see
And therefore there most knowing-humble bee.
But since this humble knowledge is such an Heaven,
Ile have a care how here I am deceiven.
Here be as truly knowing as I can,
So truly humble so an Heavenly man.
ANd art thou silenc't too sweet Lute?
1640.
Thou dost nor preach, nor yet dispute.
No contraversie but consent
'S the language of my Instrument.
Yet what rude, rufling Priest appeares
To plucke Appollo by the eares?
Ar't thence so mute, as out of heart to sing
Till th' freed Evangelists fresh ditties bring?
Be then suspended on the willowes
While th' Babilonians tauntings fill us.
My cunning hand forget thy skill,
And thou my dancing tongue be still.
Ther's yet refreshing times may shew
These briske suspenders—
Then while they howle their penitentiall Psalm
My pittying thankes congratulate the Calme.
Then sing. Why, why not now? or how
With Him doth differ Then and Now?
With him my onely joy; who while
He is, my clowded brow shall smile
Serene Aspects through th' grimmest night,
And teach my grievingst griefe delight.
Heavens harpers did Romes Epicedium play
Hundreds of yeares before her fatall day.
Then come sweet Lute with gentle Aires
Come kindly touch me with the Cares
Of Christs-Crosse-bearing soules, whose share
Of common woe and weale I beare.
With Voltos then come raise my spirits
Unto the Triumphs they inherit,
Whose wo's their weale, whose wound's their cure, whose Heaven
'S their sweet, whose want's their wealth, whose hel's their Heaven.
VVHere am I? How this turne hath giddied mee?
Decemb. 1640.
Can hardly credit what I plainly see.
So farre fro'th doore? so backward on the stage,
Still to protract this wearie pilgrimage?
Blest Lord! so turnd'st our feare-led captive thoughts,
As those that dreampt; we saw devouring Vaultes
Heapt by the foaming Beast with Virgin Slaine
Indign'd his I doll-lust. We dreampt againe,
Christs-warre-preventing Throne became the Theame
Of speedy praise; but fear'd this was a dreame.
But we awake in Paradise,
And that no fooles, be we but wise
To keepe our hold'our God so close,
Nor becks, nor blowes shall make us loase.
Then prove the former dreame yet true,
Change but the time the latter's too.
AS he whose braines are weak, and businesse much,
Walks here & there, now this now that will touch,
Takes up, layes down, wu'd somewhat, knows not what;
Even so my Good my God I had forgot,
Craz'd by my fall; Still were my braines imploy'd
With swarmes of busie follies, still annoy'd
With great paines taking in great trifles, void
Of all successe, and got as soone was cloy'd.
Thus hither thither flew, but ne'r cu'd finde
An object sutable unto my minde.
Beauty, honour, riches seem'd an empty shade
Before I saw the substance, ere I'd made
Discovery of the Truth they seem'd a lie;
But that being seen they seem'd a lying lie,
A shade of shades. Natures dim glimmering light
Burnt clearer in my heart, and shew'd me a sight
Far worthyer choyce. A soule, a beautious soule
Inrich'd with rarer honour, a prudent soule,
A meek-sweet lovefull heart, whose noble spirit
Scornes a few-thousand-miled world shu'd bury it
'N a petty speck of dirt; but pleasures in
Its larger glories by the eye unseen.
Then after this while carefull search I made
Straite shun a light shew'd this too but a shade.
A Heaven-sent light was darted in my heart,
And made me this perverting course divert.
The world in 'ts richest ornaments, is but
A show, a show th'compleat'st nature; but
Thon only good, and therefore only true,
Give m' in a recapitulated view
Those Scripture-scattered Glories. O cu'd I those
Thy analysized Graces well compose
Into their lovely face! How deep Ide fall
In love, and say thy beauty darkens all.
The creatures beautie's but a skin-deep lawne,
That by some slight distemper soon undrawne
Reveales the lurking messengers of death
That lie in waite to snatch away the breath;
And so possesse their Master of the face
That seem'd but now above a creatures grace.
But take the purest in 'ts admired'st hew,
If modest, else 'tis none, it dares but shew
Its hands and face; but He, but alwayes Hee
Is altogether Lovelinesses, Hee
Is Lovelinesses altogether; every one
Is in Him, and but in Him there is none.
The creatures Vertue's but a fairer foule,
Lodg'd in too straite a roome t' content my soule,
That only recreated splendors loves,
Whereon simplicity and infin'ty moves.
And where may I enjoy it better then
Admitted to its near'st approaches, when
No intervenient object bars my sight
In its impure and narrow Channell? Light
Pure, perfect, boundlesse, inaccessible light,
VVhen shall I live in thy delighting sight?
I live, but I wu'd live another life,
VVhere light and darknesse know no longer strife.
I live, but I wu'd live another life
That might informe me what a death's this life.
How how m'abhorring spirit starts me back
When by thy faire I see their ugly black?
VVhen by thy wisdome I their folly see,
And by their folly may the wiser be.
With what a mightier force my soule returnes
To thee, in thee with mightier fervour burnes!
O Light of Lights, when shall I see
Thee as I'm seen! VVhen shall I bee
Thou Love of Loves with Thee i'th' high'st!
VVho long to learn yet what's my Christ?
May Thoughts, Men, Bookes, may all I see
But answers to this question be.
May Thoughts, Men, Bookes, may all I see
Be Thoughts, Men, Bookes, be All of Thee.
May every Sermon that I heare
But breake the Clouds, this Sun may cleare.
May every thing I heare or see,
Be all but Testaments of Thee.
And when th'ave told me all they can,
I still must aske as I began.
VVell satisfied in seeking, till
My search with satisfaction fill.
VVHat's white compar'd to blacke? to browne, to gray?
What mar'le 't excels? but take the lightest gray,
Nay th'purest white the strongest sight e're saw;
Sublime thy apprehension yet, and draw
A purer, unto which this bright'st's as black
As th'face of Hell, and yet beleeve there lacks
As much resemblance in this draught to th' Life
As Earth of Heaven, of Heaven for all our strife
'S but pourtrai'd with a coale, revealed God
In h's holyest glories by a dirty Clod
O'th' work-besoiling Clay: and yet beleeve
Thou'rt altogether unable to beleeve
The difference till thou seest it. Thou't see a light
Is able to discerne an Hypocrite.
A man s'inlightned, he hath skill enough
To cheate himselfe, and all the world; this snuffe,
This dying snuffe shall burne as black as Hell,
When with its Christ sincerity shall dwell.
But what's that all-surpassing splendor? O
Where's he? Where's he will lead me to that show?
And teach my thoughts, my rude and artlesse lines
To draw the features of that face divine.
Divine? That every foolish fondling w'll blurt
On a neat piece of finer-formed durt.
O beauty? Cu'd I speak! but I have lost
Expressions in impressions. I'de rather lie
Admiring! Adoring! More sweetnesses suck I
So; but fire will out, must speak of him,
Rightly if I can, however speak of him
The best of things so earnestly I covet,
Th'Unspeakable Gift, yet can I say I love it.
And love will praise its object, so must I
And yet now I begin to praise, I die.
O may my life so porutrait forth my Love
To win Corrivals, mount their spirits above
With sacred flames, while I stand peering there
Where all Terrestriall beauties shad dowes are.
O see, prie, gaze, b'inamour'd, here is fare
For Myriads of Love-sick worlds and spare.
O see, prie, gaze, b'inamour'd, here is fare
Whose Rivals bring each other greater share.
For many eyes, hearts, see, love, more then one,
Fresh Graces spie to feed fresh hungers on.
O here's a banquet where the guests finde ever
The more the merrier, for the cheare failes never.
Discovered such a goodly plenty show's
Whose there can grieve but that his friends it loose?
Whose there can grieve, but that his griefe's his sauce,
To make him rellish more his wiser choice
Of food, of friends? Whose modest sharp-set eye
Each corner of this feasting face doth prie,
And every Gospel-verset in his reach
As some Grace-whelming dish doth ope, and teach
His neighbours eyes the shape, and mouth the sweet.
Happy, happy soules that at this banquet meet!
T's a doubtfull feast indeed; not only 'cause
We've all that Heaven and Earth can give; but 'cause
VVhen we remember whence we came, poore wretches
Rak'd up from dunghills, drawn from under hedges,
Blinde, lame, sick, naked, wandring here and there
Th'beaten road to death; and now see where we are
Translate from death to life; from that dark, sad,
Disconsolate State, or which is worse, those mad
And desperately deluding joyes, to such
Incircleing reallity of blisse, as much
Glory as our capacity can beare,
Angels attend us, God himselfe our cheare,
Our Cloathing-Light, we are not able t'beare
'T but doubt we're in a dreame, and fondly feare
VVe've nothing, 'cause so much; but th'night's far spent,
Th'last watch, th'last houre's nigh, th'day w'll prevent's,
Gird up your loynes, trim up your Lamps, along,
Hast, tune your hearts to th'Epithalanian song.
Now, now we see the day no more through night,
Our earthy houses now so swept, so cleane
There's not a dust, a speck, a moate to dark a beame
VVhile solemnize th'Espousals of the darklesse Light.
VVHen wu't thou come deare Lord, and shew the face
Shall blemish all these splendors? O the fire
Burnes in this breast for an allay of Grace!
Of Grace that feeds not damps such blest desire.
Some drops of love still to increase the flame,
And make it beare me thither whence it came.
VVas'e n't a reflection from the righteous Sun
VVas glanced in my heart? Or was it one
From that light-likened Angell? Then undone
I am, unlesse quite out the fire be blowne
By th'holy Spirit. But can the devill come
So drest? He hath a cloven foot say some.
Sure this he hath, he cannot humble be.
But he can counterfeit. But hee's so bad
Heele not seeme good, for nothing; now what shu d'make thee
Masque thy selfe in humility, who had
N'advantage hence? Sure 'twas the native hew,
I'm in a Labyrinth; but where's the clew?
Lord if it be of thee, then let it stand;
If not, downe, downe let it for ever fall.
Tis thee I seeke in it, dost thou command
Mine Isaak? here tis, and my selfe and all.
O how I joy I've such a sacrifice
Whereby my God my Love unto him tries.
Sure many choiser splendors have I seene;
Yet few so choise; was it my sensuall eye
I sought to please, fit objects they had beene:
But a new eye new glories did espie;
Through that bright Christall a farre brighter jewell,
That yet into this fire cast's in fewell.
How how I'm wrack't! love, hate, desire, averse,
Sorry, rejoyce, feare, hope, angry, well pleas'd,
Carefull, not care,—cannot rehearse.
Hope t'ought not be, feare't ought, there am I eas'd
Diseased here; well, I'le stint the strife,
Nere loose my Love that lost for me his Life.
Lord how I love thee that thou did'st not leave
Me in the creatures hand; alone 'tis thee
Thee 'tis alone to whom I wish to cleave,
My other wish serves this; if thou do'st see
It cement fit to make me closer cling
To thee, to me deare Lord that cement bring.
I dare not fetch it least that I should bring
For morter slime, I'le set me downe and blesse;
Thy name, first to thy willing of the thing,
Then to thy time, meanes, manner I'le adresse
Me, my way rowle on thee, delight in thee,
Thou't doe's, I my-thy hearts desire shall see.
How full I am! what shall I doe for vent?
I muse, th' fire's tin'd, when will the word's burst out?
They doe so crowde, throng, presse, stop, they are so pent,
Come loaden with such matter, that I doubt
I must be faine to let them all alone,
And in ward speake what in word can't be showne.
Thy mercies Lord, I speake it with my heart,
Flow in so fast I am not able t'beare
The memory of them, how much lesse convert
My thoughts to words, yet will I have a care
Both I and others both in my word and deed
The thankfull memory of Thy Loves may read.
BLest! blest be thee m' inligtning sunne,
For now I see I'm but a shade:
Blest! blest I feele my life begun,
For now I feele my soule Thou'rt made.
I am not Lord, but I wu'd bee.
I'de not be I; but I'de be thee.
Not be my owne, be at thy call,
Wu'd nothing be, wu'd ha' thee all.
I'd be but feet, and thou shud'st walke,
I'd be but tongue, and thou shu'dst talke,
I'd be but eye, I'd be but eare,
And thou shu'dst see, and thou shu'dst heare.
What see I, heare I in this field?
Thou thee through me do'st heare and see;
VVhere goe I? With whom is this talk held?
'Tis thou through me speak'st, com'st to thee.
Trees? birds? home? selfe? These? What's all th'world to mee.
Thy Spirit through them all conveighs me Thee.
So I? All th'world is but thy instrument.
In which thou sit'st a playing thy-my content.
Most blessed God that brought'st my minde in frame
Not left'st me a set-off-discord to thy name.
O rub me, rub me, I begin to fall.
My?—What love Convulsions, pull and hall
M'adheringly-pursuing soule?
[...]
—I
'M left behinde—O for wings for strength to flie!
One drop, One little—No Cordiall left
Hee? No Balsome—t' keep my heart uncleft?
E'ne gone I was, but that a lightsome thought,
Whose season-bearing seed was deeply wrought
I'th' secrets of my heart, sprang up and brought
Me an Idea o'th' Inlivening Tree
Who stretcht it selfe beyond the farth'st degree
O'th' spatious Heavens, tendring me'ts healing leaves
And ay-preserving fruit, when my heart perceives
I'ts feare-shrunck selfe with hopefull joyes inlarg'd,
Whereon m'officious spirits are discharg'd
Unto their severall functions, while the peace
Past understanding, thence doth re-increase
My watchfull guard in heedy confidence
To hold my peace in holding Peace's Prince.
HAppie's the man that knowes the cause of thing's!
Unhappy then's the man whom God not brings
Acquainted with himselfe; only happy hee
Hath him his friend in whom he all doth see.
HOw good it is to waite on Thee
Deare Good! How good it is! To bee
Possest with that that I desire,
That's not the thing that I require.
But to desire with what possest
Thou'dst have me be, that's my request.
The world hath not the thing I would;
Till I can heare Thee say I should.
But still in aequilibrio stand,
Expecting thy scale-turning hand.
Not any thing till nothing will,
So false are th'weights of good and ill.
But thine are true Blest Truth! O tell
My heart what's ill, and what is well.
Till then I'll leane th' contrary way,
Wish not to have't 'cause wish I may,
So happily may I meet with Thee;
For we are contrarietie.
The godliest heart inhabiting
The sweetest soule, is this a thing
For its peculiar interest?
Or is n't of 't in Christ possest?
Or, what to Doe? what glory wu'dst
Have more return'd thee by it, shud'st
Thou give't then if thou shud'st detaine't?
What service more? Or can thy Saints
Find more content then when they doe
Th' best service, bring th' great'st glory to
Thy Name? Or could it want, it did
It make for that? wu't thou forbid
What soever's for thine honor? or
What soever's not, it not abhorre!
Or is it not t' wax wanton 'gainst
Him that it with his loves acquaints?
Or shall it use it as a Tipe
Of that All-signified Antitipe?
Or is'nt there rome enough in thee
To loose it in? capacitie
Enough for all 'ts affections? were
They farre more overflowing? were
All th'r stragling streames one channell, nay mought
All th' worlds be one, be poured out
To thee, how small a drop they'd be!
And can it spare a thought from thee?
Or wher's else that magnetique force
Can draw its hard-adhering course
On after it? Or where may't meete
VVith such a sympathizing sweet,
To bartre soule for soule? to change
Till each unto it selfe were strange;
Nor wu'd acknowledge it, nor owne
It further then't was two in one.
Or can it find simplicitie
Else where, else where infinitie?
Or wu't thou shew thy manifold skill
In passing through so nartow a quill
VVith fuller incomes? what's thy will?
That setst this step 'gainst that? while still
Thou'rt going on the readiest rode
Vnto th' same end of sure abode
My good-thy glory. What's thy will?
This way? or that way? That's my will.
It is not good to be alone.
VVe're one anothers, not our owne.
'Tis very good to be alone
To him that is with All-in-One.
But so was he to whom 't was said;
Then say Lord what thou wu't, I'm said
My vote my vote shall counterpoise,
Thy casting voyce shall make the choyce.
Tis onely good that I would have;
Tis onely God then I would crave.
And yet thou sai'st, whose search hath found
'T, a good, choice raritie hath found.
One onely thing there needs; to be
VVith or without all goods with Thee.
And yet how can I without 'em be?
Since I'm in Thee in whom all goods be?
How good it is to waite on Thee
Deare God! how good it is to be
Drawne after thee, the while thou hould'st
The favour forth, withdraw'st thee, towl'st
The soule from't selfe, to follow thee
VVith whom it is so good to be.
And, w'th what rich interest he repaies
Our praying praysing waiting dayes?
A gratious John, sage Samuel,
Blest Isaac, Immanuel.
How choyce? how sweet the mermies are
When given in that were so farre?
How welcome th' presence o' the food
To which the stomacke long hath stood.
How welcome th' absence o' the food
That's so supply'd with such a good?
The mercy of mercies when sent forth
I'th' fullest time's o'th' fullest worth.
What pleasant Musicke heares the man
That keepe time with's Creator can?
Thats nor before nor is behind,
But jumpe together mind and mind?
How good it is to waite on thee
Deare God? How good! might th' world once see
My joy in things unseene, 'tw'ud still
The endlesse motion of their will
In fond desires, 'twud stint their care,
And set their soules on edge for th' fare
Wherewith my starvingst wants grow fat
With thriving vigorousnesse; but that
'S their misery, they'le not beleeve
That we joy most when most we grieve,
O how I pleasure in his no,
When I wu'd give the world't were so!
I surely this conversion is,
My will converted into his.
O love th' Lord, all m' soule, all m' heart,
All m' might, my strength! then can I part
With ought to ought but Him? whose call
'S for all, and's worthy of more then all.
Thou sha't not have this thing; what thing
Can please me then? There's nought can bring
M'equivalent content; but that
All prevalent sweet that sweetened that.
All m' joyes in it as it I see
In Thee. So, not in it, but Thee.
I then can want the world and it
But Thee I can't, O do'nt retreat
Thou, 'nd then its here. For what is it
But a meete helpe, in, by, to get
More, Thee; so it thou't be
Wh'art all to me.
So mak'st m' be
All f'r Thee.
ANd shall thy servant finde refreshment here?
The garden smiles, while pretty Philomel
Stills the sweet Ayre. Yet nought I see, feele, heare
But filth, but stench, but screeching cries of Hell,
Unlesse thy spirit's my Aire, i'th' garden be,
And my Beloved sing his Loves to me.
My dearest God! my mouth wu't not thou fill?
'Tis opened wide; this is my onely breath,
With this, though dead I be, yet live I still;
Without this while I live, I live in death.
Oh how it's kindly heatings doe resolve
The chilling feares my sadder heart involve?
O how it's gentle coolings doe allay
My sulpsury passions? how it's cleansing gales
My drowsiest dullest dumps doe cleare away?
Thus o're my earth, flegme, choller, blood prevailes.
Dull flegme, sad earth, mad choller, turn'd to blood
That's active, chearefull, sober; thy spirit how good?
Blowe with thy southerne, and thy northerne blasts,
Blow on my garden, they will purge my flowers,
Well nourish them, them fragrant make, and cast
Such gratefull odors through our amorous bowers,
Hee'l quickly come and eate his pleasant fruit,
And at one Banquet we must have the Lute.
Then will he sing, and gently touch my heart,
The many-stringed instrument I keepe
Tun'd to his spirits recorder, t'beare it's part,
And answer grace for grace; thus softly creepe
These warbled melodies through every veine,
Rapt up with raptures that I can't containe.
But needs must beg a kisse, a stroke, a glaunce,
A sent, from those sweet lipps, that glorious eye,
Hand gentle, pretious oyntment; needs must dance
With all my might; and if my flesh envie
Me this blest pleasure, and not throughout the night
Let me prolong these joyes, yet I'le delight.
My bed shall be his bosome, his left hand
My pillow, and his right my covering.
My Curtaines Angels round about me stand,
My Canopie shall be my God his wing.
But how dare I thus speake? how dare? how dare
I not? It is presumption to dispaire.
I did beleeve therefore I spake,
And now I sleepe my heart shall wake;
Heare him in visions of the night,
But when he speakes he speakes delight.
And were it lawfull t'speake but what I know,
I'd onely in that monosyllable show
The soberer world a shadowed glimpse of that
Unknowne, that unconceived pleasure, that
Sublime d'light th' God overshadowed soule inherits
That knowes the sweets result from mixed spirits.
VVHy wu't reveale thy selfe to me, and not
To th' world? difference, such difference put
Where there is none? Even so my father cause
T pleas'd thee; t' unwrap thee o' thy misterious lawes,
And give thy unvailed beauties into me;
And take my love-inflamed heart to thee.
To live by faith, by love, that live by action,
And but thy pleasure what's my satisfaction?

To you it is given to know the ministeries of the king­dome of Heaven. And art not thou O Lord tui juris? art not Thou at Thine owne disposall, at whose disposall are all the things in the world? mayst not thou give thy selfe to whom thou pleasest? or what is Heaven but Thee? or the knowledge of its mistery but the knowledge of Thee? and the knowledge of Thee life eternall, Thy free and gracious, and therefore not worke-fore-seene gift. Shalt Thou depend on the creature, or that on Thee? Thou on its will, or it on Thine? Can the humble soule say, thou sawest man would be good or bad, and there­fore thou must needs order him to life and death? and so not thy will but theirs must have the precedency, the preheminency. It is not safer to say, that thou who art an absolute and free agent, giver and disposer of thy selfe, (in the inhabitation of whom in the soule is Grace, Glory, Life eternall) that thou in leaving and passing by a man, hath left him as bad, because not pertaking of thee the onely good; or blasphemously to say, thou see­ing some goodnesse in man without thy selfe, as it must needs be if not from thee, from thy will, thou seeing of him thus good of himselfe, and therefore a God, wouldst order him to salvation; and then how can he be a God? O into what absurdities, into what everlasting confusi­ons, would not the mad pride of degenerate nature leade us? and all for want of a true thorough sight of that infi­nite desparitie betweene the Creator and the creature, tha [...] absolute soveraigntie that he hath over it, that cleare and distinct understanding of his will, its positivenesse, privitivenesse, activenesse, permissivenesse, &c. its alwayes justice, holinesse, goodnesse. Can that soule but above all desire, nay desire it as that one onely thing, that it might [Page 149]ever dwell in the house, in the presence of God, to behold the beauties of his holinesse, and to blesse him among his chosen; and yet but say withall, but if he hath no delight in me, here I am, let him doe to me as seemeth him good. Os what is it can more assure the soule that it hath seene him, that it shall ever see him; as having chosen that good part, that shall never be taken from it; in whom alone it could learne to humble it selfe to the death, in the willing fulfilling of a ready obedience to its Fathers will. This is the heart that will not haste after its owne inventions, but will waite upon his counsells; that feareth the Lord and dwelleth in his secrets.

— Marle not my soule
If wisedome some reserved cases have
For heavens Cabinet councell; he shu'd save
Thee never an Heaven, shu'd he fully show
The misteries of his state here; here wee'd know
Him fully, and that were heaven indeed. But since
Thy conversation shu'd be never thence,
I blame not this thy scrutinie; but wu'd
Thy grosse contempt, if thy remissenesse shu'd
Not prie fnr truth as life; and that to see
Sparkling i'th' loveliest resplendencie
That lights our Hemisphere. The soule in'ts grave
That's not abroad i'th' Light. Thou't then behave
Thee wisely when thy Scripture-guided eye
Its ingenious boldnesse shall most humbly prie
Unto the utmost bounds of modestie;
And there where reason failes let faith supply:
Till thou sha't see thy faith was rationall;
That skild thy will to trust Truth over all.
When thou sha't see all ends fall in together,
All knit all into one knot no time shall seaver.
No sooner now I've gotten one, but then
The others gone, and I'm t' be gone agen.
Then sha't thou know as thou art knowne, without
Discourse, at one compleat sight, far from doubt.
Grow then in gracious knowledge now, and so
More Heaven in more Heaven-like manner know.
Thy Councels were not worthy o' Thee great God,
Were'nt they too deep! Broad! Long! High! f'r me to plod
Them out to one full intuition; nor
My love so great, so sweetly'd inforce m'abhor
M'selfe, cu'd this blest distraction comprehend
Thee in my owne short armes; till thou sha't send
Th'inlarging Light and Truth shall end
This controversie in thee my endlesse friend.
Now can't I bring two ends together then
Two ends to bring together can't I ken.
Now can't I Mercy and Justice knit in one
Then see it shall not need for they are one;
VVrapt up in one Decree, how Thou't expresse
Thy uniforme sweetnesse in a divers dresse,
Substantiall goodnesse in a various shade,
Compleat perfection with a Cloud ore-laid.
O come then come! VVhen breakes the day
That breakes these broken shades away!
The Clouds subjected under our feet,
Hang ore our head, so may we meet
And greete, may wholy contemplate the face
That glances here imparted grace.
SHall faith subscribe to sense? Or sense to faith?
Poore faithlesse faith! my eyes, my head, my eares,
My heart, say they all what they will, Thus saith
Jehovah; Speake Lord, Now thy servant heares.
Can't I beleeve thon art? Ile not beleeve
I am. Art good? N'r I bad. But I both beleeve.
Thou art, thou a Rewarder ar't of all
That diligently seek thee; I have sought,
Seek, and will seek, thee so. Ile nere lin't call
By thought, by word, by deed, till I am brought
VVord otherwise by a messenger of Heaven,
And then Ile trust but what I have receiven.

I Would not beleeve, because I see, feele, heare, &c. but see, heare, &c. because I beleeve; not have my sense leade my faith, but my faith my sense; because I have a ground for it by revelation by the VVord, and not so far beleeve as I finde ground from faith out of sense. If I cannot believe Gods eyes, I will never be­lieve mine owne; thinke all I see, heare, doe, as a dream, farther then faith goes along and assures me of it, &c. To receive apprehensions of things as meerely presented by the senses, is no more then brutish; by naturall reason, no more than humane; but what by supernaturall rea­son by faith, is divine; though indeed that reason be but unreasonablenesse, farther then it is inlightned by this; far­ther then it is acquainted with, adheres to, workes ac­cording [Page 152]to the will of God; The heartie, thorough, active, compleat knowledge of the Truth. Now truth is (as I may say) of fundamentall necessitie to the consti­tuting of a true and stable faith; it being impossible that that which is founded on falsehood shud prove other then false and failing: whether concerning persons or things, our condition in generall or perticular acts. Where the promise, precept, word is not taken aright, the application of the soule to it must needs be amisse; where the ground is mistaken the building muw needs miscarry. Where that's not sound this must sinke. Loose and spongie soiles may have a firme superficies. Hollow vaults a hard roofe. The soule that takes things by the outside is like to goe away with out-side comforts; that is not penetrating, bottom-searching, inward-looking, is like to fall low for want of looking low. Build then cauteously O my soule, tread warily, take heede of the rashnesse of fooles ( Esa. 32.4.) walke accurately, circumspectly, pre­cisely, keepe thy selfe close to thy God, loase not thy hand, thy hold, the least time, the least distance, walke humbly, love him intirely, cleave to him inseperably, follow him at every turne, thou canst never be out of thy way while thou keepest thy way, thy Christ, whom thou sha't onely find in his fatheas, who is (who is al­ready) found of all them that seeke his face, (not them­selves but him) his holinesse his glory; who of his just goodnesse and gratious wisedome, to the manifestation of the power of his light, of his love, hath left thee among so many false lights, fooles-fires, in such a mist in such a night of darkenesse, among so many misguiding guides like so many false voices in a wildernesse. Now to know his from a strangers, now to discerne is grace, [Page 153]wisedome, &c. in its richest attire. Resigne then thy selfe to thy Christ to thy God, live by faith in all, and feare not but when thou art gone out of thy selfe, his spirit shall teach thee, when, what, &c. to see, heare, doe, &c. for while thou art with, so farre as thou art with the Creator thou canst not want wisedome how to use the Creature, so as it may bee most for his glo­ry, and that is the height of thy wisedome. Cer­tainly so long a wee are with him, hee will bee with us counselling, directing in all our wayes. All our miscarriages, ill doing, and ill farings being from our departure from him, our light, life, comfort; so that not onely true faith is rationall; in beleeving God beyond and against sence; but true reason is faithfull in conver­sing with God in and thorough sence. And hither I con­ceive lookes those places, I am crucified to the world and the world to me; am dead and this that I live in the (very) flesh (incarnall sensuall things, seeing, hearing, talk­ing eating, drinking, commerce, &c.) I live by the faith, live the life, of the son of God. We are dead, and our life is hid with Christ in God. ARe dead, and the spirit that raised up Jesus quickneth our mortall bodies, the soule of our soules, the life of our lives. Senses spiritualized. Whatsoever is not of faith is sinne, &c. Neither can there be any thing pleasing to God but what is done in him in whom onely he is well pleased; but what wee doe in him we doe by faith. The nature whereof were wee so happy fully to know, wee should fully know our owne happinesse.

VVIsdome begins with ends, makes first its last.
Not stirs a foot till wary feare forecast
Vnto what good; but good, thence End, 's but One;
Then doe, speake, thinke an act, till feare hath shewne
Thy faith that kinde to come from, lead to, God,
A sinfull folly 'tis. Thus, faith will plod.
Hee's then the man that's only wise
That keepes his God before his eyes.
The head of wisdomes feare, but there
Are wisemens eyes, see with their feare.
His Optick nerves, his moving hence
Derive their animall influence.
THings as their principles decay and thrive;
Th'most dying Christians are the most alive.
Reduce all ills to sin, all sins to'th' First;
All goods to grace, all graces unto Christ;
Then place thy selfe i'th' midst; and thou sha't see
How good 'tis in a trembling joy to be.
VVhile every act, and accident shall show
Thee thee not thee; ere blest thee so to know.
Thus shake thee from thy selfe, and thou sha't finde
How good 'tis to enjoy anothers minde.
Thus shake thee from thy selfe, and thou sha't see
How good 'tis in anothers life to be.
VVhile seeing whence and whether brought th'ast bin,
Grace shall thee humble make and faithfull sin.
But may this humble faith still acted be.
Still't wu'd from sin and sinfull sorrow free.

THere is nothing wherein we are more wanting, then in what we thinke our selves least; the grounds and principles of Christianity. VVhat more commonly con­fessed, than that we are all sinners, children of wrath by nature? More readily professed then that we believe in Christ? that we preferthe will, the glory of God above all, &c. and yet what is it we beleeve, we do lesse? What is it is more hard, more excellent? VVhile they are things meerely notionall, and superficially swimming in the braine, or at most but glide and coast upon the heart, and carry it on in a way of action, so far as pleases our selves and corrupt nature, the devill lets us run on with the undoubted, uncontraverted conceit that we know them, that we believe them; till they have at length brought us thither where we shall too late be forced to be­lieve & know, that we believed, that we knew them not. But then is it that we meet with the crosse windes, the stormes, fluctuations, temptations, doubts & questionings, of their certainty, their equity, &c. When they come with that weight upon the soule as to sinke into it, to be re­ceived and entertained of it into its seriousest and so­lemnest consideration; when they come with that force and power upon it, as not to Herere inprimis viis, to stay in the common sense, fancy; but to take the judgement, and by that the heart, and by that the whole man, into their possession; that they are not only on the soule, but In it, and it wholly given up to, wholy in these things: [Page 156]when we come to suck sweetnesse from them, to live upon them, to digest them throughly, to gather strength from them, to draw them forth to practise, to make them such to our selves as they are in themselves, &c. certainly could wee fully understand, firmely beleeve, cordially affect, and frequently or rather continually actuate these things, what manner of men should wee be (O could we experimentally know) in all holinesse in all happinesse of conversation? we should be Christians farre more in reallitie then wee can be in profession: in substance then wee can be in shew. It is as impossible for that heart to make the world know what it sindes within it selfe, as it is (to speake proportionably) to make them know what is heaven. Not the thousandth part of it selfe is that soule able to discover that hath the pow­erfull workings of these thoughts, these meditations within it; though too they be such whose very nature is to carry forth the soule in the most operative activitie.

The cause once knowne the cure's halfe done; the soule,
(And why not adde the body) purg'd o' this foule
Distempering humourous faithlesse pride, thou'rt sound
Though sinne, shame, paine, want, div'ls beset thee round.
The man's within, and all's in vaine without,
If he that's hid in Christ will not step out.
'Tis unbeleeving pride, proud faithlesnesse
'S the bitter roote of all unhappinesse.
Looke on the humble-and-beleeving man
He will be happy doe you what you can.
Below he lies the while he flies above
Th' great'st evills, and sweets the bitterest in love.
Still may I Act my God-adoring faith,
Not heare what sinne or sinfull sorrow saith.
Up, up, above I am out of the reach
Of what in pact in peace will make a breach.
The cause once known the Cure's halfe done; th' disease
Exactly tane away, the Symptomes cease,
Being as co-transient as co-incident;
Faith knowes no sinne nor humblenesse male-content,
Perverse and faithlesse, faithlesse and perplext
'S the combination of the holy Text.
A generation of perversenesses
In whom's no faith, no men of blessednesses.
Were they implanted in my pleasant rivers.
And suckt th' sweets m' All-abounding Name delivers
Liberall to thirsty soules, cu'd they the while
Thus feeding runne to th' dry and barren soile?
Cry out for any want but want of care
To keepe them fatting on Angely fare?
To stretch their wider branches to receive
More of my fulnesse in more fruitfull leaves?
Happy, happy soules indeed! big with delight!
Knowne of and knowing the Lord! what lust m' excite
Him sit, nay stand, nay walke i'th' wayes of folly?
What blacke event, becloud with melancholy?
Pure, candid, limpid, quicke, pellucid spirits
Streame from the lively fountaine, well demerits
The honour o'th' parent grace. Why's living man
(Whose life is joy) so sorrowfull? what can
What reas'n deject him? man suffers for his sinne,
Which faith not suffering let's no suff'rings in.
For while it comes to God it turnes from evill;
That found this left, why troubled at words of divels?
(But wary, indigning, simpathizing hearts
Are Agents in their sweetly-played parts)
Ile boldly say't if truth say true,
So farre untoward, so farre a Jew.
Untoward, froward faith? I can as well
While melt in love gainst love rebell.
Untoward, froward faith? I can as well
While blesse in heaven, banne in hell.
Heare then the summe of Christian art,
Keepe faith in all things Acting's part.
Faith's onely where it lives, and where it lives
'Ts the spirit, the paire of nerves that motion gives
To every action; the man, the worke is dead,
Is sinne, where this is not the heart, the head.
FOnd man! in those first loynes himselfe unblest,
Fled from his nest, cou'd never since find rest.
Now soares above, now headlong fall's below
That place-uncircumcised Being; O
That faith wou'd hold me still above my feare,
And feare below my pride. Durst I presume
To blesse my selfe, my selfe unblessed doome?
Wer't thou my feare great God, how soone I'd start,
Abhorre, runne farre from this div'l swolen heart,
Aspires thy Throne in envious discontent
To doe it's homage to thy regiment.
My wanton head wu'd it more Babells plot
To reach forbidden fruite? my froward heart not
Rejoyce in all thy wills? my stubborne hand
Not quickly act thy soveraigne commands?
This head, heart, hand, this all that first wu'd Thee
Their Maker governe e're they'd humble be.
Wert thou my trust, shud I still sow the wind,
And reape the whirlewind? tangle, teare my mind
With thorny cares? such tireing circuits fetch
To rake the Mammon makes me more a wretch.
Contrive a wisedome that thou never taughtst?
Create Chimaeras; flocks of monstrous thoughts,
Headlesse conceipts, that hold not of thy Christ,
The head, the whole, where all our worth's compris'd.
Resolve upon an happinesse of mine owne,
Though by't my happinesse be quite o're throwne.
Pitch such an height of learning, unto which
I will attaine, what e're come on it, itch
After vaine applause, be eminent or none,
Have what I will, or else let all alone.
Silly-proud-childish-obstinate-God-denying else,
How madly lost when fondly sought my selfe?
How faithlesse pride the brainessets on the wracks,
While fretting grief the heart-strings gnawes and cracks.
Were God thy ayme thy stay this ne're wu'd neede
H' accepts the doing will for th' willing deede.
How hard, and yet how easie now I worke;
To please my Saviour sav'd me from the Turke
My tireing Tyrant selfe? expects the tale
Of toylosome Brickes though time, straw, strength shu'd faile.
I will be rich, will honors, pleasures have
Saith selfe, or else Ile venter on the grave.
But who pursues these riches, honors, pleasures,
He knownes not Christ his Alsufficient Treasures
How easie is thy yoake, thy burthen light
When with selfe, world, divell mandates I them tight?
The faith that once of God hath got a taste
Loves not the world so well to fall for hast.
But takes his time meanes, measure, manner, kinde
As willinger to be without were so his minde.
Whose manifold wisedome shewes its mighty power
To keepe the soule, whom neither th' golden showre
O'th' glittering'st goods the cheating world can tender,
Nor th' bitting'st siege, fiercest shots can make surrender.
And wherein faith most bravely hath acquitted
'T selfe's not told so easily as pertinently omitted
Since then the evill heart is to depart
From thee, and to depart from Thee's the heart
Of unbeleefe, put in this faithfull feare,
Then shu'd I still be good, because still here.
All blisse is in Thy presence, th' evill heart
'S in evill case cause 't will from Thee depart,
Evill departs, fares ill, and all because
This fearelesse unbeliefe not tends Thy lawes
Stampt on the heart, in golden Carracters
Of ne're defaced loves, and thence transfers
Its thoughts to trash, puts forth its hand to folly,
Th' luscious fare's resolv'd int' adust melancholly,
Fond fearelesse faithlesse man n'er findes his rest,
Runnes from his mercy least he shu'd be blest.
Then let thy feare fall and incompasse me,
From this false world, while faith makes upward flie.
Thus both made one in love, this faithfull feare
Translates my soule to its celestiall Spheare.
To rest from th' labour, I to'th' utmost doe,
And sing't along 'cause thou wu't bring me through.
So gives he his beloved rest, sweet sleepe,
Amidst the sprightly est activitie dost keep
My spirits in reposed freshnesse; while
Th' world breakes their sleepe, head, heart, with vaine turmoile
Worke out salvation with a trembling feare.
Give love its perfect worke 'twill cast out feare.
Th' excrementitious humours thus expeld,
Th' implanted spirit of faith's communion's held
The better with the gracious love, that sweetly feedes
O'th' purer Pabulum of humble deeds.

1 Joh. 3.9.

CUd'st thou induce th' proposall t' vouchsafe a touch
Unto the stateliest to yes, the fairest moile,
The richest d [...]gerie? what brave indignation'd boyle
In that Heroick breast, while thou sha't see
The imminent Crowne of such an eminencie
Surround thee in a glorious compasse hath no end
Of time nor place? but shud'st thou not intend
Thy heedie faith but th' glancingst squint-eye lend
From him to painted lies, how soone thoud'st mend?
O how thy bowell's'd turne within thee with
A sweete regret to think thy father seeth.
Cou'dst thou now sinne? while such a thought rul'd in
Thy princely mind? thou cou'dst not, cou'dst not sinne.
'Tis death to such a one to sinnne. Nay, death?
Thoud'st runne to death to free thee from this death.
Live like thy selfe then Christian, act, act, act,
Set, keepe thy faith on worke in every fact.
In vain's the power that's not produc'd to act.
Where what is had, 's not us'd, what's had is lack't.
O Leave me not my head! O stint the strife!
Canst pull my head off? Canst see me so to flutter
Bustle, and struggle? So labour for my life?
Do'st pleasure in my paine? or hear'st me utter
'Blasphemous word? yet with the tender Fowle,
Or quiet lambe, Ide faine retaine my soule.
My soule Thou art;
[...] Psal. 31.24. Hold fast
and now I'm' ready die,
Canst see me gripe and graspe the cloathes, my heart
Not strength yet? Canst heare me say, I die;
I die griev'd nothing, but with Thee to part,
Deare friend, dear'st husband! and yet thou my death?
What shall our children doe too? O give breath!
Breath still blest spirit; and while I am alive,
Ile have a care to see thy graces thrive.
VVHat sweet repasts when God and hunger meet!
And stay the hungry soule, whose hunger's sweet.
How sweet the draughts when God and thirstings meet!
And stay, not quench, their thirsts whose thirst's so sweet.
I here's the soule shall eate, drinke, once for all,
When want of praise no more for prayer shall.
Oh cu'd I praise! what need I pray?
But I shall praise, shall praise for aye.
That's m' onely worke both here and there.
What is no praise, can be no prayer.
I'M dull, I'm dull with this my clod.
O breath these earth-rejecting veines, and make
Them full with praise of purer worth.
I'm full, I'm full of Thee my God.
O breath my blessing-turgent veines and make
Them run them spring Thy prayses forth.
Winde up my soule to those Seraphique straines,
Wherewith that noble Quire entertaines
Their farre-above all praise-exalted Maker,
That joyes in this that thou art his partaker.
Whose joy's his glory, glory will, will thine,
Thine his will-pleased joy, his glory thine.
Who onely happy will not happy be,
Unlesse thee as himselfe hee happy see,
I tremble; and this shaking gives a grace
Unto my singing voice. VVhat? This my place?
I tremble; and this shaking opes my pores,
And thrusts my sluggish humors out of doores.
I tremble; and this shaking makes me catch
My God more fast, in h's faster foulds doth catch.
I tremble; and this shaking cleares my wings,
Rouses my spirits, up the speedier brings
To sit among the gods; t'exalt the name
That deignes to Christian creatures by the same.
To sit among the gods, to give receive
Eternall blessings; thus to interweave
My joy inseparably with his glory.
Be all my pleasures hushed with this story.
Admire! Let this still musicke still my griefe,
Till sence supply what's wanting in beleefe.
For carnall sence is not so farre below
My faith, but spirituall may overflow.
To powre out mutuall blessings, and to be
Most blessed by my blessing; so to see,
It is more blest to give then to receive;
Honor'd by him all honour with him leave.
To power out mutuall blessings, whilst I lie
Drown'd in the fountaine; where no sooner I
Cry blessed, but my blessing strait redounds
With millions to my brest; and heaven resounds
With Echoed praises of those beautious creatures,
Are all in love with one anothers features.
Spirits spiritualiz'd, rarifide to such
Sublim'd simplicitie, there's not so much
As th' smallest specke of dust, the Atom'st moate,
With 'ts interpos'd obscurity to floate
Betwixt their light and beautie, God and them.
Their every-way-surrounding glorious stem.
I tremble; and this shaking gives a grace
Unto my singing voyce; is this my place?
I heare eternitie speake, and say I love
Thee as my selfe whom no affections move?
I'le be thy crowne of everlasting glory,
While thou sha't banquet on the endlesse story
Of all my councells, and survey the depths,
Highth, breadths, lengths of my er'st-untracted steps:
While thou sha't heare my thwarting feet agree,
I'th' perfect'st set o'th' pleasant'st melodie.
While still perfused i' the richest savours
Th' art fed with kisses e're refreshing favours.
Still lost in admiration of thy blisse,
Thou't finde so blessed 'cause s'admir'd it is.
Well, if the master of the feast shall say,
Friend sit up here, shall I dare disobey?
God knowes no compl'ments; hee's sinceritie,
A word's enough where all's realitie.
Mount, mount my soule, and keepe upon the winge;
Jehovah see, and Hallelujah sing.
O How my soule's inheaven'd in the sound,
That descants on so beautifull a ground;
See eye, love heart, sing glory, and all accord
To make my life the musicke of my Lord.
Rejoyce my spirits, and all my thoughts within
Ride triumph with the speedie Cherubim.
While death and hell attend my conquering Carre,
Whose glory duskes the brightest glizning Starre.
The brightest Sun, in all his Summers pride
'S a cloud of darkenesse when together ey'd.
Thankes! thankes my soule, for when my soule sings thanks,
Then, onely then, my joy 'ore flowes its bankes.
Praise! praise my spirit, for while my spirit sings praise,
Then, onely then, I weare the crowning bayes.
Blesse! blesse my heart, for when my heart sings blesse,
Then, onely then, my heart feeles blessednesse.
Heart, soule, spirit, spirit, heart, soule, zeale, fire,
Breake, breath, burne, blaze, and in his brest expire.
Earth hold me not, O pinnion me no more,
When shall I be whence I shall be no more?
Still hold me earth; for heaven wu'd be no heaven,
Shu'd not my will keepe time, and fall in eaven
With his. O could I blesse thee here! here were
My heaven; but want both heart and art; how ere
Can't hold; while some want matter for their words,
I words f'r Immatteriatnesse; yet like the tender Birds,
That in the silent shadow sit forlorne,
Bill, dresse their feathers by the dawning morne,
Stand perking, pearing in the blooming Sunne,
And teach their light-delighted tongues to run
Their chirping welcomes to its glorious raies;
So doe I strive to chatter forth Thy praise.
Praise, praise him soule, Ile never cease to praise;
And when I cry, Ile cry I cannot praise.
Why sorry, but for sinne? tis folly, why
For sinne but that unthankfull praiselesse I?
Praise my petitions, praise him my confessions,
Praise deprecations, praise him intercessions.
And if my tongue cease praise in griefes and feares,
Ile make my tongue recant in praysing teares.
In every thing give thankes, for 'tis his will
That gives me cause to sing, 'tis well 'tis ill.
O praise, praise, praise! let me no longer live
Then doe my masters businesse prayses give.
Nay life is praise; for then I truly live
When joy, then truly joy when praises give.
The life is best's most like the life above;
Hence I so much Psalme-singing tempers love.
The man is best comes nearest to his End,
Hence I so God-commending men commend.
And shud I knit a series of the long'st,
The sad'st complaints, combined with the strong'st,
Pressingst agr'vations, that might wring them close
And hard on th' soule; yet praysing love breaks loose
Through all, and makes me sing, agen and agen,
Blest be the Lord for evermore Amen.
Then shud'st with-draw thee, and I grow feeble, weake
Yet let my heart have strength enough to speake
Thy praises (—) O give me strength enough
To blesse my strength, and I have strength enough.
Shud my thanksgiving-force decline, decay
Unto the low'st; still may I see and say,
Thou hast a Seed a Generation, they
'L be ever speaking of thy praise, I'le lay
My heart unto their mouth, and while they play
Their heaven-learned descantings, I'le play
The plain-song of a broken contrite heart,
I'th' eares of Heaven plaies the pleasant'st part.
Th' still, soft, sweet Musicke; inward-sounding drone,
W'thout which the lowd'st, high'st, nimblest tongu'd is none.
Is worse then none, a groundlesse, frantick din,
A selfe-exalting, God-assaulting sinne.
Provokes his mocked patience, while the zeale
'S not pitch't by humilitie, 't doth but squeak and squeale.
But, thine cannot be overwound, for they
While at the highest with the lowest play.
Rise humbled soule, and praise him in the high'st,
To which thou art advanced in thy Christ.
O praise! praise! praise! let me not praises give,
But give my selfe to praises, praising live,
Die, sinke, ore-whelm'd, swallow'd up, lost, found
Upon the shore of ever-praysing ground.
O how my soule's aflote and smoothly glides
Unto the harbour where my blisse abides!
And what a calme serenitie befriends
The plimmed sayles thy spirit swiftly sends
Fleeting along with speedy nimblenesse
To th' pleasant Haven of their happinesse.
O praise! praise him, for he is worthy praise,
That was before, and is beyond all dayes.
Praise him, wh' in heaven and earth doth what he will,
And whatsoe'r he will not doe is ill.
O praise praise him for he is worthy praise;
Cou'd th' mightie Fabrick o'th' creation raise
From nothing, with a word; and governe it,
Consisting of a kind of infinite
Varietie of individualls in such measure,
Weight, number, as that in all hee'd take his pleasure.
In such a wide, a vaste disparitie,
Of motions, a perfect contrarietie,
So full! so sweet! so choise a consort plaid!
All honour, glory, power to him that made
All for his pleasure. And was I made to be
Thy pleasure, mightie God? what cou'dst thou see
To please thy selfe, besides thy selfe, in me?
O scrue me up to that celestiall tone
VVhereby thy highest-raised Saints are knowne;
To blesse thee for thy selfe, though bath'd in blood;
How e're I be, to sing, yet thou art good.
Yet thou art good how e're I be, or doe.
Doe I or no, thy workes thy praises shew.
Still thou art good, art good, shu'd all the world
But like a tinie-tennis ball be twirld,
Toss'd topsie turvey, whirled up and downe,
Untill 'twere worne to mammocks; still the crowne
'S as fast upon thy head as ever; still renowne
As due to thee as ever; all th' creatures still
Make musicke, even the wicked'st though 'gainst their will.
Sunn, Moone, Stars. Heavens, Floods, Earth, Fire, Snow, Harle Winde,
Praise him, for praise is to fulfill his mind.
Deepes, Dragons, Mountains, Dales, Beast, Birds, Trees, Hills,
Praise him, for praise is to fulfill his wills.
Men, Angels, all his Hosts, one breath conspire
To praise, for praise doth all he doth require.
My gentle Lute with thy soft touches praise,
Praise him my sollemne-sounding vyoll, praise
My spirit-exciting dance, my nimble song,
Praise. B't stay, my longer-exercised tongue
M' out-run my heart, but most in running long.
Run, run then heart and overtake my tongue;
Run, run apace, redeeme thy thankelesse yeares,
And bathe their memory in thy blessing teares.
Run, run apace; for thou hast more to say
Then all the tongues of men and Angels may.
Run, run apace, eternitie is at hand
VVhen stinting time no more shall praise withstand.
Time? nay my selfe, for what-so e're I doe,
I may make that sing thankfull praises too.
My meate, my drinke, my talke, my worke, my sleepe,
May all in this Commune. Concord keepe,
An uniforme well-order'd conversation
Close to the rule that leades unto salvation.
I here is praise indeede, in Deede to praise;
And make my life to sing away my dayes.
So match my living, that my praysings mayn't
Be Pearles on Swine, but Jewells on a Saint.
So match my living, that my praysings may
Be starres on Azure, and turne night to day.
And light the world to those supreme ascents
VVhere dwells the Eternall Substance of contens.
Here shall I safely ever sit and sing,
My soule rejoyceth In my Saviour King.
O what a twitch this In doth give my spirit?
And screws it up farre farre beyond my spirit?
My soule's In God, In God my Saviour
My soule is safe, and feares not the behaviour
Of this nor th'other world. My soule's at ease
In God my Saviour; my soule doth please
It selfe In him, my pleasures meet in one,
My joy is full, my joy is overflowne,
And knowes no bounds, while thus my diving soule,
Inviron'd with infinitie doth rowle
Me all In all, and I am in my God
As In my Element; while they are odde,
And Hetrogeneous that are in, not of,
Leave, breath, have being in him, and yet are off,
Stand at th' farth'st distance deadliest defiance,
Are breathlesse livelesse have no welbeing, 'cause no alli­ance.
O who w'd not love thee! feare thee! praise thee Lord!
Whose just-wise-holy wayes such marv'ls afford!
Who can but loose himselfe in blest blessing wonder
I'th' All-container! So nigh so farre asunder!
As creatures in, but not, as not renew'd;
Degenerate peccant humors, that are spew'd
From's mouth. Are rather On then In; but we
Are heart in heart, unto eternitie.
Not as the water in the vessell; but
As water turn'd to th' wine wherein 'tis put.
So are we one in one, right blessed turne?
That gives such strength, life, spirits, while Thou't runne
As unallay'd to thousand generations
Made happie in this iminutable mutation.
Change, change apace my soule, power out thy selfe
The best is last, when thou art all himselfe.
Though not all of himselfe; whose infinite sweet
In every point of timelesse time,
And boundlesse bounds doth meet,
Himselfe made Thine.
[...]remble; and this shaking makes me catch
[...]ly hold more fast, in h's faster foulds doth catch.
[...]e? what am I thou shudst vouchsafe to heare
[...]y prayses? mine? but, for to give an eare!
Oh! that's to give thine heart, thine hand, thine all,
VVho hast no part more or lesse principall.
Who hast no part at all; but wholly art
[...]h' possession o'th' selfe-dispossed heart.
[...]ine? cud'st n't have made a child of any stone
To bed thy bosome? but must I be one?
[...]! stonier I! rebel'd against thy grace,
And spat my venom in thy sacred face!
VVhat saw'st in me to have me in thy thoughts
Of life, the worlds foundation yet unwrought?
Must I be one! how sweet a trembling joy
Runs through my veines? and kindly doth imploy
Me in a fearefull love? must I be one?
[...]e then be Thine shu'd all the world be none.
[...]! I be one! Ile then be none alone,
But Ile be thine, shu'd all the world be none.
O blesse! blesse! blesse my soule! still blesse thy Blisse.
VVhat sweeter worke unto my soule then this?
Or what more acceptable unto thee?
Thou lovest it, and I love it, then ever be
Thou blest of ever-ever-blessing me,
Of ever blessing me, ever blessed be.
O blesse! when wu'd I cease? when thou sha't cease
To be; then, not till then I'd blessing cease.
O blesse! were I in Hell yet cud I blesse
I were in heaven; but I cannot blesse.
I cannot, cannot blesse; is this to blesse?
To call thee blessed? while thinke nothing lesse?
Or can I thinke I thinke it while not part
VVith all for Thee, Thou onely blessed? while my hear [...]
'S not wholly given up into thine hands,
T' be melted, moulded, fashn'd by thy commands?
T' be cast into a full conformitie
VVith thee, if thought Thee th' sole felicitie.
Blessed art thou O Lord! th' art good and
Dost good, no unaccustom'd song, but stand
Not deedes, thoughts, words at mutuall defiance?
Thought I't, wud not there be a quicke compliance
VVith all thy wills? wud not I hast to know,
Presse hard to learne thy statutes? th' wayes thou't goe
To meete with Thine, thou onely blessed goodnesse?
VVu'd not I still be in thy presence? Oh! th' woodnes?
Th' wilde wandring madnesse, hath seduc'd my soule
Since first I turn'd my backe upon Thee, to proule
And filtch an independant blessednesse, whence grew
My aye-depending misery, while fondly threw
Me from my Eden, where the all-creating spirit
VValke't with his fleshie workemanship. But wu't blest spirit
Returne againe? and be Emmanuell?
VVu't teach my heart to call Thee good? wut dwell
There? make 't thy temple? hence helpe me breath pe­titions?
I see thy goings here? th' glorious exhibitions
Of the invisible? flesh spirit! God man! heaven earth!
A marriage song of everlasting mirth.
And must I sing 't! who since thou took'st me in,
And trim'st we for thy selfe, weedest my sinne,
[...]lantedst thy grace, the dore wide open hurl'd
And made my heart the through faire of the world,
Thou mad'st thy garden! this then the pully be,
VVith greater swing to clap me close to Thee.
The pully be to make me sticke so close,
The greatest pull may never make me loase.
But when I heare the stillest voyce behind,
And heare it ecco'd by thy written minde
[...]ay, thy beloved's here, straite ope I flie,
And blest who knowes what meaneth He and I.
This opening shuts me in the fastest close
VVhile in h's revealed loves my selfe I loose.
O how this smiling favour quite prevailes!
[...]isolves me all in teares! and then exhales
[...]' ascending soule to that refining Sun,
Resolves me into it selfe. O turne heart turne,
And never never teturne. Thus is begun,
Consummate glory when I'm all undone.
Undoe, undoe apace, dissolve, melt, run,
Thy onely undoing is th' art not undone.
Draw out, shed, shed abroad thy selfe in praises,
Leave not a drop behind, let all turne praises.
But what am I thou shud'st put such a thing
Into my heart, so cordially to sing
The glories of the God 'gainst whom I have beene
A constant belcher of blaspheming sinne!
What thought I, spake I, did I, but in all
My cursed life did Thee accursed call!
And must I blesse! I blesse! Shall I sinke? O!
Hold me! Hold me in this bless'd pleasure. So,
So may I over sinke and sing! how sweete
Sweet sound the praises in these depths! O meet,
Meete me a diving; plundring through my heart
'S false-bottome, thorough whatsoever wu'd part
Me from Thee. Catch me in those lasting armes,
VVhose closings are a close of warbled charmes.
Charmes warble still; and shake me up and downe,
Untill you rest me with my fixed Crowne.
Rest warble still; for still this is my rest,
To see to sing my worthl [...]snesse so blest.
Blest spirit shake, shake on, loosen my soule
From this false world; break downe, beare through the foule
False bottome of my heart, still more to meete
With truth i'th' inward parts; still more to greet
Those peace-heaven-sounding wellcommings; those sure
And never-over-burthened armes; those pure
Those pure imbraces, whose harmonious close
Shall blesse my blessing soule with full repose.
Thus may my rising falling heart in praying praise,
My falling rising heart, sing on my dayes.
Steadfast in joyes discoursing that vast distance
That's swallow'd up in an unite persistance.
And wu't thou me forsake?
Just now I saw thee. Oh draw, faine'd overtake.
Cud, cud I but beleeve.
Were I in Hell, yet shu'd I nothing grieve.
I waite, trust, walke with thee.
Revive, in peace, shall ne're confounded be.
REtire sad thoughts into your inmost Cells,
There view the Hell of Hells,
Thy sinne-foul'd soule.
In blacke flames howle
Those never-lightned hearts,
Wh'in this their day ha' n't done their studious parts
In their false purifying, while hope
Hath Judah's fountaine doore kept ope.
Returne glad thoughts and mount the utmost bounds
O'th' boundlesse heavens. There's he.
Yea he is here,
The word is neare.
And hence my joy redounds,
To see the Ruddy VVhite in him and me.
The watry blood so pure, so just,
To white, to quench my pitthy lust.
HAng all these Puritans.
A Puritan, what's that? an Hipocrite.
Nay hold there man, for so thou dost but fit
The noose for thine owne necke. Dost n't thou professe
The service, feare of God? yet what dost lesse?
From thine owne mouth th' unrighteous servant th' art:
Condemned for a Puritan; wu'd thou wert
So happy t' owne the honour of the name,
Who that description canst not but disolaime.
And say he is no Hipocrite; then sincere;
I there it is, the object of thy jeere.
—I tell thee man,
Thou art an Atheist or a Puritan.
Within my heart the wicked's wickednesse cries,
There is no feare of God before his eyes.
VVithin his heart the foole hath madly said
There is no God, why should I be afraid.
Selfe-cozening soule, did'st see the curious eye
Thy bosome thoughts did at a distance prie,
How dar'd thy fond affections say within,
There is no God for speculative sinne.
So, say there is no God: for hee's his name,
VVhose vengeance teares the tearers of the same;
Heart-searching and sinne-visiting he is,
Deny it and deny thy eternall blisse.
Canst count thy pastime-words but passing winde?
Thy irreforming tongue shall shortly finde
A word no scruple; but a tun of leade
To sinke thy soule to an Infernall dread.
Then shal't thou see each minute on the scoare,
VVhat thought, spoake, acted, while thou sha't implore
That great tribunall, with Lord, Lord, for all
Thou'st done i'th'flesh, though minced n're so small.
Presumptuous wretch! thoud'st, thought'st there were a God,
Run trembling up and down at every nod.
VVhat art thou to the world, that's but a drop
A dust to Him, that makes the mountaines hop,
And skip like Lambekins, with his Earthquak hand.
But thou't goe faire and soft, though he command
Thee flie, (for so doth love) He who graspes the winds
I'th' hollow of his hand; the swelling Ocean binds
Up with a word; here, just here stay thy waves.
But lawlesse man how proudly he behaves
Himselfe? he stinted? he a strickt, precise
Foole? no, for he that is, is onely wise.
Call'st him thy Master while thou canst expect
To have thy servant shew thee more respect?
Thou't bid him come, and goe and stay, and so,
He must; bid's God? thou answerest Him, thou't goe,
Thou't come, thou't stay, when, where he will; provided
His will fall in with thine; but if divided,
Th'art not so silly a Puritan to displease
Thy selfe for him; but He must serve thy ease.
Or if thou part'st with't, 'tis but with lesse, for more,
T' avoid what's endlesse tak'st what's quickly o're.
So still thy selfe's thy end, thy God. O what
'S the worme a doing that assaults its God!
Whose every word is pure. All linck't together,
And woe t'him dares the least, he all doth, sever.
Every word of God is pure; and woe t' him dare,
Make them their jeere that make it all their care.
The pure-in-heart see Him-their Puritie;
Th' impure their place; who them-Him vilifie.
O what's the worme a doing? how every bone
'S an Aspen leafe? to see it climbe the Throne
VVhose footestoole's all the kingdomes of the world!
By whom such station-quitting spirits were hurl'd
To that unbottom'd pit; prepared is
For all such enviers; Whose vexation's this,
They ne're shall see what they are vext to see,
Men truly Holy only Happy be.
Poore childish fooles! wu'd have they know not what,
Heaven they wu'd have, but Heaven they wu'd not.
Cry out, braule, fight with all that wo'nt confesse
It theirs, yet when they see't love nothing lesse.
Through th' morrall-vertue-swept yard, through the porch
Bedect with formall duties, may approach
To th' very doore; but they're too good to knock,
To waite; and if th' least glimpse slip through the locke,
These light-abhorring Owles winke, wish their losse;
If heaven be puritie, they'd rather their drosse
E're-scorching ne're-consuming flames inherit,
Then passe the fire o' th' purifying spirit,
Indeed what wud'st thou there? Heaven'd be but thy
Hell. What wud'st thou see, who here dost shut thine eye
Against the God-revealing light! and ope
Thy mouth? or, 's this thy purifying hope?
Accursed curre that barkest at the Moone
That but reflects, how wu't against the Sunne?
Or what wud'st heare? a crew of simple Saints
With just such puritanicke Angells chants.
They'le never ha' done, n're linne their singing Psalmes,
Unto their God for their victorious palmes,
None 's still; or thinke'st while thou wind'st up thy dull,
Thy jarring heart, thou't make to waite so full
A set of fore-well-tuned instruments,
Jumps all in one compleater of concents,
Contents God? while blesse that dreadfull-joyfull name
That brought their blessed mindes in heavenly frame.
I tell thee man.
Thou art a Pagan or a Puritan.
Thou may'st a Jesus, but did'st Jesus know,
These Hell-devis'd revilings dar'st thou throw
Upon, nay thou wud'st be, his Image; did
Thy faith once see him, whom thy God hath hid
From blinded eyes while with an ayrie name
He lulls thee dead asleepe, to wake in flame.
But Christ is life; and so he is to all
Whom he shall with h's talitha cumi call.
A virtuall, power-exhibiting command
Reares thee a virgin; on new resolves to stand.
To walke the way of his Commandement,
To keepe thee true, loyall, chaste, pure, innocent.
From selfe-world-devill pollutions; all for Him,
And so thou wud'st did'st thou beleeve in Him.
Some fancied I doll of thy wanton braine,
That will thee in thy minnion-lusts maintaine;
Will winke at smaller faults; no great adoe
Will make, shud'st harbour some few grosser too.
Will let thee vaunt it in thy pride, and gad
About thy eye's and flesh's lust, be glad
O'th' dregs of spirit-exhausted loves, the leavings
O'th' marrow-sucking world, the sad bequeathings
O'th' banckrupt-soule, now hurried out of doores
To pay the debts of ' [...]s ne'r-acquittable scores.
I here's thy Jesus; presumptuous-desperate wretch
Dar'st from that soveraigne name such venom fetch
To kill thy soule; but for that spotlesse Lambe;
Who so his owne to metamorphize came,
To teach them by a secret sympathy
To follow what by occult qualitie
He makes them know, his from a stranger's voice;
To make them runne unto the brest so choice,
And with their bleating rethoricke bespeake
Th' simple milke that makes them strong of weake.
To teach them keepe his undefiled steps;
Not dare to tread awry for each-hand deaths;
At's first smallest, stillest whistle straite to come;
To stand before their Coate-bereavers dumbe;
To watch the Wolves come cloathed in their skinne,
The light-like Angell, selfe-deceiving sinne;
To graze no pasture but His wholesome word;
To fetch no salve but what his side afford's.
To become silly that he might make them wise,
T' abase themselves he might them highly prize;
Not live t' themselves; but Him an'th'common good;
And when he calls to meekely shed their blood.
I here's my Christ; of whom thou art afraid
To have too much; lest so thou shudst be made
To be too wise, pure, just, too farre from hell;
For feare of Heaven fear'st to doe too well.
Nor car'st indeed for this nor that; Earth, earth
Is thy deare home of sinne-rejoycing mirth.
But if must needs away, thou'rt more content
To be where Angels sing, then divels torment.
And yet wert there, thou'dst be tormented with
Their singing. Lo whither brought by thy beliefe.
Cud'st thus believe didst thou believe him just
And faithfull in his sayings? away thou'dst thrust
Thy heavenly joy-prevaricating lust.
There is a faith that doth not love to trust.
Nor Christ to trust that faith; who sees the heart
Him never saw with all for him l'not part.
Canst thou pursue thy honour, pleasure, gaine,
And not believe all this beliefe's in vaine?
Thoud'st hate, loathe, friends, selfe, All, did'st ever know
But what it meant to have a God to wooe.
Thoud'st doe, suffer, come, runne, flie, did'st ever prove
The powerfull sweet of all-commanding love.
Thoud'st live, die, by, for, love, did'st ever spie
The feasting beauties of that lively eye.
Poore soule! for ever past my pittie, if on
Thou hold'st thy course. I know you not, be gone
Thou wicked worker; thou never livd'st above;
For what acquaintance? Thou my love? my dove?
My undefiled loving dove? what thou
Sit billing moaning with me? flyed'st thou
To th' purest houses of my spirits resort?
Thou m' friend? my Spouse? wee walke and talke? wee sport
Our selves in hidden loves? Thou carefull how
To keepe me as thy life? And absent, how
To take the speediest wayes to finde me? Thou
In a sweet trembling at a sillable? Thou
Unlade thy bosome secrets in my brest?
Thence Councells furnish? take thee to my rest?
Thou jealous of mine honour? did Thy thoughts
Run on my beauties day and night, that nought
Cud please thee else? thy feet i'th' pleasant wayes
Of my commands? did'st count them so? How sayes saith
Thy heart, and they? is this thy holy faith?
Cleane feare? God 'ndwelling love! Now, now what saith
Thy conscience? Did thy heart er'e feele a dagger? & yet
Survive the thorough-strucken wound? and yet
Thy-heart-still-killing smart survive the hope
Of Cure? this daggers it kills heart and hope,
With minute mortall stabbes of quicke dispaire,
Myriads of endlesse living dyings are.
— I tell thee man,
Th' art not a man, or art a Puritan.
A beast, a dog, a hog, a what-he-will,
Whose Jesu-countermands thy lustes fulfill.
— I tell thee man,
Thou art a Devill or a Puritan.
There are but two unelimentary spirits,
Good, bad, God, the divill; and justly he demerits
T'be counted th'latter who'l not be the first.
Who scoffes at th' blessed spirit to be th' accurs'd.
Bad in th' extreame, who wu'd be i'th' meane
Of absolute good; who wu'd no nearer come
To God then needs, t'be cast i'th' farthest roome
Of utmost darkenesse, there to learne too late
Th' remotest distance of the middle state
Of wilfull neutralists, a semblance make
Of friends to heaven when Tophets part they take.
HOw now mad sparke! what? pride thee in thy wit?
When pride's the Principle follie? and what is it?
What is thy wit, when it is at the best.
And worth the name? but judgement neately drest?
The wit that's made the judgements recreation,
This play the ground while that the variation.
That made the sauce unto a weaker braine,
That else wu'd of the stronger meate complaine.
And what is judgement but a childish thought,
When to the full'st maturitie 'tis brought?
What all our parts, but parts? and those received?
And in a moment may be quite bereav'd.
The best are bad; for else they never cu'd
Be tane away; but are th' parts of that good?
That onely good, compleate? then not our owne.
So then who hath th' great'st, the best, hath none;
But what in Him; but what in Him we see,
We see't, we feel't in humbling humilitie.
VVEll, say thou saydst, thou thought'st 't were somewhat well?
Why not confesse his gratious gifts, as free
As of th' ungracious retributions tell?
By that, that humbly thankefull thou mayst be,
By this thankfully humble; be sincere,
Nor shame nor praises need'st thou then so feare.
I Have sat downe, and councell held;
I cannot fight I cannot build;
And yet I can't but fight and build.
The warre, the building's great;
Great wants do threate.
My strength my stocke is small,
Is none at all.
What shall I doe? Ile doe thy word;
A Toole in this, that hand a sword.
My Christ will helpe, and wealth afford.
My strength my stock's not small;
For they are all.
The building warre shall thrive,
While hee's alive.
Here then Ile minutely repaire;
Nay hence not budge a foot, my care
'Sonl' he who' h's life so freely'd spare
Me, and I not fetch't, but spare
Such gainefull care?
Such life, such strength whereby
'Tis I am I?
Ungratefull sloath had rather fall, and die,
Then stretch his bosom'd hand to' th' life so nie!
THe world's uncertaine, and my knowledge too;
But I desire to be certified
Of nothing, but Christ and him crucisied.
Christ, from this head, all goods all grace convay;
And on him crucified all ills, sinnes lay.
So see my all, while see my Christ:
My evills on, my goods in Christ.
So has my foote a sure place,
Nor will I longer wandring trace
The world, to finde a setling stay,
For I have one, and that's my way.
VVArre, peace; life, death; A harbour and a shelfe.
The death of death. The Image of himselfe.
Th' omnipotent Prophet and the Priestly King,
That Learnt Obedience by his Suffering.
A sacrificing sacrifice. Simplicitie
Lodg'd in a house of clay. Omnipotencie
Sensible of humane frailties. The Lord of life
Slaine. The God of glory undergoing the strife
Of vilifying tongues. The administrator
Of heaven and earth administred to, th' Creator
Poore, reliev'd by th' Creature. Aeternall happinesse
Afflicted! —! stupendious godlinesse!
Great mistery! and they that thinke it small,
As doe all worldlings, they know nought of all.
God manifest i'th' flesh! heaven dwell in earth!
Descend in hell! O how divine's my mirth
When I can in my flesh my earth my hell
See Him! See in my flesh my earth my hell
This spirit this heaven. O spiritualize me more,
Him more t' approve whom Angels so explore!
Adore! A God poore heathen gospells; th' God to whom
The sensuall sense-refined world doth come,
Drawne by beleeving hearts. Unbonnded glory
Caught up to glory! what created oratory
Can reach, can teach these wonders so sublime!
Profound! Th' celestiall theame of timelesse time.
How humble shu'd I be cu'd I still bow
My selfe to pry into this mistery! How
Heighthned, inlarg'd, cu'd I still soare aloft!
In this so broad, so long, deep-heighth t' be taught.
Gen. 1.31. 2 Cor. 3.18.
THou Lord mad'st onely good my object be;
'Tis onely good then I shud see.
But I wu'd ill, and ill now onely see,
'Tis onely sinne then I'de not be.
But I'd be Christ; when shall I onely be?
Tis onely God then I shall see.
Thou Lord madst onely good my object be,
'Tis only good then I shu'd see.
But I wud ill, and ill now only see.
'Tis onely I, then I'd not be.
But I'd be thee, when shall I onely be,
'Tis onely thee then I shall see.
Thou'rt only good and I wu'd see
All but as spots to draughts of Thee.
All but as spots to draughts of Thee
Who art the only good I see.
The world's the Image of thy Image word,
The mire sin, that Satan blur'd
Man with, the stain straite through th'Creation crept,
But this untouch't him selfe hath kept;
And h's glorious-face-resplendent glasse hath left
To daily dresse me, quite bereft
Of sight by that foule filth; His Spirits breath
Upon this Mirror quicks my death
Struck-eyes. And now since such a foulnesse in
My fairest I see, I'le never lin
To eye, to pry, to dresse, redresse me by
This God-conforming Theory.
VVHy shu'd I envie grace? insult o're sinne?
Are not the Saints sins mine? my graces theirs?
All sinn's in one, in one all grace, we in
Them both: he onely well himselfe compares,
Whose humble, thankfull, watchfull soule makes true,
One flesh one spirit, one Adam old and new.
THou art. Thou onely art. Man's but a But,
An adj'ctive, accident, a what-Thou-wut,
Thou art, art onely excellent; to be
'Tis that, 'tis that's the onely excellencie.
Bee't all my businesse, t' get more Thee
That being more Thee I may more be.
More be in, more to be
To Thee.
PAsse world along, with all thy pompous traine.
Goe ruffling in thy pride, thy richest show;
Drawne in Thy stateliest Chariot; thou'rt too low,
Too base an object for my high disdaine.
Contemne the world? I wud, wer't worth contempt.
Or give my indignation footing, or
On what shalt trample? tell me of somewhat for
My vilifying? or how w'lt cause more contempt, then tempt?
All th' world is lesse then nothing, none is, but
Who is I Am; and by whom every thing
Is what it is; they 're not then rich that bring
Th' world in possession; since when 'tis got 'tis not.
I De have the World at will And yet I care
No more for't then to buy me food and frize.
I de have't th' obedient toole, I de make to reare
My building soule; and when my Master sees
It meet, lay't by, and take me to my hands,
Faith freer workes the lesse the sence withstands.
And this is all I care for th' carefull world,
To keepe it by my hand, and from my heart.
To have 't an inferiour helpe, away to hurle't
When told here is a worke of curious art,
Derides the bunglings of unskilfull sense;
A heaven-silenc'st active patience.
THe World's a straw, through which I draw
My Canaan-milke's sweet nourishment.
But if't be tane away, I gaine
The wider draughts of deep content.
While he thinkes fit, I'le sucke through it;
But if he speake but halfe a word,
A way it goes, and well he throwes
That hath i'th' steede such store confer'd.
DId not I feare Thee Lord,
The world hath not the cord
Cu'd binde this strong desire
From what it doth require.
So vehement yet so stai'd
'S the motion 'ts not afraid
Of Hell. Onely thy Love
Maintaines the fight, and proves
Of power to withhold
What else were uncontrol'd.
And yet the fight is sore,
And yet I can't give ore.
O were I not so free
Or had more libertie.
And yet if neither must,
Thou'rt very good and just.
Even this too is for good,
The more the selfe's withstood
The more the spirit is
That crownes with victories.
Good, very good are all thy wayes
Thou onely wise, and he who staies
His marking minde thereon, shall know
What loving kindnesse thou dost show.
THou heart-rein-searching, spirit-pondering God,
Turne mine eyes inward, teach my head to plod;
To looke to what thou look'st, the maine, the man,
The soule, the selfe; for when I gadding ranne
So oft abroad, the divill he gat him home
And made my wanton heart the teeming wombe
Of stolen pleasure; stoale th' word and sow'd instead,
A world of tares a world of griefe doe breed.
Still may I watch, my yessell keepe sincere;
Th'infusion else corrupts though ne're so cleare.
And yet if thou deare God wu't please to come
Into my heart, my heart'l sincere become,
Tho' ne're so foule. And long'nough may 't contrive
Wayes how to cleanse it, and to th' utmost strive,
And all in vaine; unlesse that foulenesse cu'd
Make faire. My sorrowes, watchings, cares, what good
Can all from him who of himselfe is all
Pollution? VVu't heare the humble call?
O come, come, come away and doe not stay
Untill thou comest, and then for ever stay.
Sure there is somewhat of thee here, so longs
To see thee, while my spirits in such throngs
Come forth to welcome thee: nay a'nt I all
Lovely in my Christ unto thy sight? yet shall
My blacke abide? still will I sweetly grone
To hast thy comming till I'm to mine owne.
Then come blest day, come, inside outside turne,
And try each thought by th' all discerning Sunne.
How humbly then sinceritie shall smile!
When proud Hipocrisies unpainted guile
Shall show her devill-like face! More humble were
I, I must needes become the more sincere.
Cause I have more o'th' God-of-puritie
Sincerity, holinesse; and while I spie
More beautious glories, th' obstacles more remov'd,
He needs must be more humbly belov'd.
POwre out the pretious oyntment of thy name,
That sumptuous box inrich'd with all's divine,
Upon my wounded soule, so heale the same.
Allay its dolours, make its surface shine,
Smooth 'ts rigor's, cleare its rust, soften its hard,
Make dulnesse nimble, mend what pride hath mard.
Perfume the roome thy guests doth entertaine,
Free't from those brimstone fumes, o'ne overcame
My tender Virgin-thoughts, had not I tane
A scent of life to life; so aptly came
With rescuing redolencies, O open 't wide,
Powr't freely forth, thou hast enough beside.
O how these welcome Savours steale my heart!
And make me shrug for joy at this depart!
O how this pawne e'ne makes me wish more hearts,
That I might feele such more desir'd departs.
O how I love these sweets my sweet! O how,
My pleased midriffe trims my smiling brow!
O how my humble thoughts revived aspire,
Borne up with spirits to their high desire!
How how my unstraitned soule doth boundlesse flie,
Its gazing circuits through the highest high.
Where am I now? am I a man?
I see, I see, but cannot say.
Mine eyes have borrowed all they may,
Of tongue, of all, doe what I can,
My assembled spirits cannot yet devise
To tell my tongue the pleasure of mine eyes.
Stupendious sights! O cu'd I reade
The world a lecture of those joyes
The cleere-eyd soules so richly feed,
How they'd indigne these cheating toies!
And hourely watch at wisedomes gate a glance
Might ope their eyes, and thence their soules advance!
Transcendent sounds! O too too rare
'S this! Nay, too grosse these carnall eares.
O tones! O tunes! what compasse beare's
This stately consorts curious Aires!
Their strings are true, high, wound, incessant play,
Musitians skilfull, play well, well they may.
Pure, understanding, zeale! responds
To God, Christ, h's Spirit. Endlesse straines
Of multiplied blisse! detaines
The blessed soules in boundlesse bonds!
But if such sights! such sounds! such distance brings!
O what's the mid'st, where Glory shines, Grace sings!
O Cud I keepe me in this Option! I
Wu'd wish to live because I wish to die.
How like a little God I wu'd converse
With men! let downe a while here to rehearse
Those joyes above! till I had drawne up more,
Harbour'd their Hearts upon thy Haven's shore.
He onely lives, wh' inthron'd In's mansion, can
Yet condescend to sejourne with, for, man.
He onely lives who in his Jesus lives,
But he so liv'd who h's life to, if for, gives.
How he derides his feares, his cares, his griefe,
That seeke to hast his so-much-sought reliefe!
O how he pleasure's pleasure's in his paine
That but contrives more treasure to his gaine!
Christ is his life, his death is more of Christ.
His joy's now high, but then shall be at th' high'st.
Now ebbes, now flowes, then an e're-flowing tide,
O're flowes, and swallowes all the woes of pride.
Morne, even, eclipse, now; then, a constant no one
Th' Sunne lights to th' earth-uninterposed moone.
O draw this earthy Curtaine, draw, that darkes
M' inlightned eyes from their beloved sparkes.
Those lovefull beames of dreadfull Majestie,
In whose exchanged rayes my life doth lie.
O how I strive! I wrastle to be rid
Of halfe my selfe stand's in'ts owne light! but bid
Thou dost my stay, and I'le obey,
Till thou sha't call, who art my all,
VVhose will's my heaven,
My owne the leaven,
Sowes all my sweete, thine sweets my sowre,
Makes me unwish my still-wish't houre.
COme flying on thy spicie mountaines, on
Thy saving hills; and so convey along
Those opening odours, kindely work upon
M' obstructed soule; unlocke it from among
These streights, and let my spirits out of prison,
To praise thy name among thy second risen.
These meditations, prayers, thankes, confessions,
Thus peec'd, patcht, interrupt, when shall they end,
In endlesse praise? what now by darke expressions,
These volumes of thy word and workes commend
Me leafe by leafe, b' one, cleare, intire view,
May the Synopsis of thy Face me shew.
Now see I one in all, then all in one;
So may I see, what is not all is none.
SIR,

No longer (after my long Vacation in my travells) to fru­strate you of your desire, though of force I must of the thing desired.

FEare I conceive may not unfitly be distinguished into a feare of aversion and a feare of adhesion; of turning from and cleaving to; and this may well be stupendious, astonishing, overcomming; in respect of the immensitie of the goodnesse of its object, such a feare as may be sayd to fall upon the soule, and make the soule fall under it, in a sweet God-injoying submissive humi­litle. Such a feare as one may be sayd to be In the seare of the Lord; to be plunged in, swallowed up of those great and glorious apprehensions. This being both the effect and the cause of uniting the heart to God. And hence is it a feare of such great joy and strong confidence. The soule thus brought into God by love that is stronger then death, and faith that interested in the power, wise­dome goodnesse of God can doe all things, by this so neare approach to, and communion with him, discove­ring more of his fulnesse, and in that of the creatures va­nitie. And hence are they so inseperably linckt together, men of courage-fearing God-hating covetousnesse; fearing the Lord-and Delighting Greatly in his Commandements. It is rashnesse and madnesse that proceeds not from this feare; it is basenesse and pusillanimitie that ariseth not from this courage. The joy is sadnesse that is not accom­panied with this feare; and griefe the more kindly it is the more it hath of this delight. For that other of aver­sion, whether respecting morall or naturall evills, it is either a bare and simple, or a mixt and applicative a [Page 196]eare, a feare of contraction, or of dilatation of the spirit, a meere withdrawing and flight, or an aggressive resi­stance and repulsion. And either of them is convenient pro re nata, as warranted by the consideration of the thing, time, place, person, &c. For morrall evills, it is a feare of absolute resistance, because they never consist with the will of God quoad nos; for naturall it is a re­spective resistance, and flying, so farre as they shall ap­peare to be his will or not, as we are called or not cal­led to them. So that there may be a feare of these evils, well consisting with a willingnesse too and desire of them, as it is said of Christ, hee was heard in all that hee feared, and yet againe, I come to doe thy will as it is written of mee a body hast thou prepared me, &c. The spirit may be willing when the flesh is weake. There may be and that lawfully an abhorrencie from evill as evill, and yet a will ingnesse to it as the will of God, and therefore good. Father let this cup passe from me if possible, but not my will but thy will be done. The prayer of him who him­selfe alone in his owne person so freely drunke up that so unimaginably terrible cup of the Aeternall wrath, that shu'd have beene the portion of an everliving death to so many millions of soules. And certainly could all the calamities of the world that were ever, are, or ever shall be suffered from Adam to the youngest of his sonnes, stee­ped like so much Gall and Wormewood in one cup till all their ill-savoured tast were extracted from them, they could never make a draught so intensively bitter, so large a draught of bitternesse, as that which was presen­ted to him, accepted of him, pray'd for by him. To which he comes, brings his body, as a Voluntier, as ready, as prepared for The Service, The Suffering. So in deede should this feare of aversion be subordinate to, [Page 197]fall in with, and be comprehended in, as part of, as com­ming from and tending to that of adhesion. I therefore turning from evills, because pro sua virili, of their owne nature, it would turne me from God; but such being the never never sufficiently admired power, wisedome and goodnesse of God that he can turne even the greatest evill to the greatest good, the soule stands in aequilibrio with a kind of willing unwillingnesse, or willing willing­nesse disposed to it. So as it may be said not to feare them, but God; fearing them because of him, and him in, by and through them; (as it may be said to love not the creature but God) they being but as foyles and set offs for the further illustrating the otherwise not so ap­prehensible Glory. So make the soule cleave the clo­ser to him and gather more strength from him. So these feares differing not in their being and nature, but in the manner of action; both being the feare of God, now act­ing ad intra, now ad extra, now making good its primary object, now evill its secondary. Christ, upon whom were the chastisements of our peace, whose stripes hath pur­chast us the spirit of a sound and healthy mind, who was troubled for our ease and tranquilitie; that wee in him possessed of his fathers alsufficiencie might be of an un­troubled mind, having thus, like that unparellel'd Queene to her impoysoned husband, suckt out the ve­nome, virulencie and malignitie of our feares, that na­turally fill us with disturbance, distractions, evill-creating and evill-nourishing conceits, over studious, and over burdening preventions. Their deadly qualitie and over­mastering power, thus drawne away, and onely so much left as is within the strength of inherent and continually supervenient grace, and may by it be kept at an under, subdued, and worke't out daily to the further manifest­ing [Page 198]the power of God in us and by us, as well as upon us. The more then we prevaile against this distempering feare, the more is our convalescencie, the greater our recovery of that happy harmony that was betweene our affections before they were untuned in their fall. Eve­ry affection being so farre good as it holds its corre­spondency with the other, and all as they tend to their perfection, action. Good is the griefe the feare that after helpes. A wary, circumspective, deliberating, confultive prudentiall, providentiall feare. And to this purpose was it an answer well worthy its Author, that Turkish Terrour that even-incredibly valiant Scanderbeg to the precipitate and unadvised advise of one of his Cap­taines, It is good to feare all that may be feared, that so in­deed we may feare nothing. And such a, and but such a feare is that which is becomming a Christian. Of whom there is nothing more unworthy then base derecting un­manning (and for so much) unchristianizing feare. God having ex consulto, and out of a gratious forefight, left our enemies subdutos & expugnatos, though not funditus stratos; brought under, overcome, though not utterly subverted; that, that in nothing we might bee terrified, this, that in nothing we might be secure, lasche, remisse, dull, blunt; but might still have them as Coticulas, as whetstones to our mettle, and animositie; as those on whose fall and ruine wee may bee raised to an higher pitch of an unreachable and undaunted spirit. As it was well counselled by that wise Statist for the sparing of Carthage from an utter demolition, for the keeping in heart of the Roman valour, that wu'd else languish i' the want of exercise. And God sometimes (like that de­demeanure of Edward the third to the young Prince at [Page 199]the battle of Cresey) withdrawes himselfe as it were, and stands aloofe of, at a convenient distance, on the hills of his salvation, environed with his auxiliary troopes; and thence viewes us in the valley, how we fight, how we are matcht, how we quit our selves with the strength already received, without a more extraordinary recreut, and suf­fers us often to be brought to hard stresses, pressing exi­gences and almost inextricable streights; yea to the ve­ry jawes of death, yea to bee swallowed up of death; that living and dying Conquerours (like that late-and ever-famous Swead) he may in a more speciall manner share to us with himselfe the honour of the day; may demonstrate ours in his owne glory; That wee are the Sonnes of such a Father, and he the Father of such Sons; That we shu'd bee so honored to bee made the instru­ments of his power, and hee to be the Maker of such in­struments. Now the feare that thus strengthens us in the Lord, and in the power of his might, and makes us stand fast, and quit our selves like Men in Christ Jesus, that workes up the soule to such noble and Princely atchieve­ments, that all sordid & earth-bred-feares fall below it as Lucifer before that pure and spotlesse Light; This is The feare, The feare of the Lord. Which since it is a grace, and therefore supernaturall, must as all other graces being homogenous be conducible to the rest, and all to an active and ready performance of the good pleasure of God, So farre therefore as it turmoyles, perplexes, casts of the hookes, and makes the soule that it is not in a fit posture to turne and winde any way with the first sig­nifications of the divine command, so farre as it is not a feare of furtherance to, but of hinderance from, our duty, so farre is it not a feare of God; not a feare that [Page 200]drawes us to him, but as all our owne feares, from him. And so is it extravagant and wandring out of the way of those inseperable companions the graces, that all joynt­ly convey the soule to a more strict, close, and intimate fellowship with its God. It will therefore be great wise­dome to keepe this kind of feares (so farre as meerely concerning us and the evils) from our heart, and seat it in the head; that it might not take hold of us, but wee of it; we act and command that, not that us; that it may be as a Sword in our hand to defend us, and not as one at our heart to offend us; that while the heart is carryed on with the fullest gale of animositie and cou­rage, boarne up to the bravest and highest resolves of a magnanimous spirit, the head may wisely plot, and the hands seasonably act. That we may undertake this feare as a voluntary worke, an expedient injunction, and not be overtaken by it as a meere naturall and necessita­ting affection. But thus supernaturaliz'd spiritualiz'd we doe, wee suffer, with delight all the wills of God; looking on them as designes, as ordinances, wherein our good is inviolably interwoven with the most high glory. So that the horse should not more neigh to the battle, nor the souldier shout at the warning Peece, then the heaven-animated spirit summoned to the Almighty-might-glo­rifying encounters, springs forth with a nimble and cheerefull alacritie. And certainely there is nothing can guard us better against base & misbeseeming feares, then the unspeakable, unconceiveable peace that rules in the heart, that is ruled by the feare, that is moved by the faith of God. There is nothing that carries up the heart to a more ele­vated pitch of courage and confidence, then a selfe-diffi­dent humilitie; a carefull serving of Gods providence [Page 201]in the use of all good meanes, with a well-grounded and full reliance on him alone, above and when he pleaseth without meanes. And undoubtedly what ever the selfe conceited world may thinke, the most God-fearing, the most-mortified, the most-meekned-humbled-soule is fortified with the truest, with the onely true courage: be­cause he onely is with God the onely sound ground of confidence. And he hath, he onely hath, and that wor­thily the name of a generous man, of a gentleman, who is the compleate, the accomplisht man; furnished with all vertuous qualifications, though never so seemingly different. He whose gentle, milde, selfe-debasing, cour­teous, debonnairete is armed with the most invincible impregnable prowesse and valour, commanded and drawne forth by a judicious conducture. So the seve­rall denominations of the Latin and English, meet well; well couched in and accompanied with that primary and all including vertue, in that one word of the French, un Preud home, importing (as one may gather from their use of it) a man discreet and wise, a man of fortitude and prowesse, of a sweet and gracious comportment, a man of honestie, faithfulnesse, integritie, rondeur of minde. All vertue is of choice. And where all is not chosen none is chosen. To suffer in any case, upon any termes, is ne­cessitie not patience, meakishnesse not meeknesses a flegmaticke dulnesse, a stoicall stupiditie, not a hea­ven-taught compositure of spirit. Neither can the in­termission of the act argue the privation of the habit: and though the world count them sheepish moapish; &c. because they are the quiet of the land that walke softly in the humilitie of their soule, yet present them with a fit­ting object, and see whether they doe not give it sutable [Page 202]entertainment, the same command, the same spirit, ha­ving wrought in the same heart, all requisite graces; the manifestation onely of either accommodated to a fit oc­casion, and drawne forth by a prudent observation. And since they know not their Genius, no marvell they hold so little friendship with them, whose foundation is ac­quaintance. Little doe they thinke a Chrisitian is such a one, (as such a one he is if not unlike himselfe) as can bring the Drum and Trumpet in consort with the Lute and Violl, or could thence gather what they are like to finde, he can make Musick of all things. As well of the most harsh & hidious terrours, as the softest and sweetest sounding melodie; can as well play with the most fro­ward and wrastling (so the word Psal. 18.) as the most pure-and peaceable disposition. As being he who knowes how to be in perills often, in wearinesse, in painefulnesse, in watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings, often in cold and nakednes, besides his continuall sympathizing with the Churches; knowes how to run through good report & bad report, how to abound and how to want, and how in all to be content; a most blessed concord in the spirituall eare, the spirituall heart! That can take joyfully the spoyling of his goods, receive any word any precept of God as pure-holy-good-and-just, and set about the actively, passive obedience of it, in much affliction with joy of the Holy Ghost. Happy afflictions that helpe to such an holy joy! O! where! but I forbeare. And if he griefe it is at the want of this cheere­full and thankefull deportment of himselfe. And this is a higth that wee are carryed up to in the New Adam, be­yond the reach of the Old even in his innocencie. Hee being altogether free from these evills, and therefore no­thing acquaint with these evill-conquering comforts. [Page 203]The Almightie wisedome to the more eminently ad­vanceing of his glorious Grace, having thus wonder­fully by our fall raised us up to an higher, to a permanen­ter, to an ever-highly-permanent Station. Strike up then your allarum when you will, you shall never carry him by force, but shall but rowse up more spirits to man him repell you. As hee is of a harsh rugged rough-hewne proud-cruell, that is not alleviated with a sweet milde smooth temprature; so is it an effeminated, flaccid, tor­pid, dispirited, enervated soule, that is not quickned not inlivened with courage. That alone being hydro­picall, this feaverish. That too dull for action, this is too quicke for councell, for patience, for endurance: But both happily met together in one, in a wise, under­standing, actuating spirit, like the naturall heate kindly fomented by the radicall moisture, and duly agitated by the influent and insite spirits, keepe the soule in a happy and healthy constitution; because in an apt and proxime power for the well performance of its severall functions. Hence (may be it) those Grecian Captaines were so well seene in Musicke as in feates of Armes and Philosophie; as that brave-spirited Epimanondas, &c. it being a usuall custome after their feasts to have a Lute presented them to play on. And certainly he is a man of a choice and compleate temperature, that is well made up of a Scholler, Souldier and Musitian. A head full of discreet and sage knowledge, a heart full of couragious and meeke love, a hand full of indefatigable and diffi­cultie-overcomming action. Such a head! such a heart! such a hand! That make such a Man! And yet what are all these, and were there a thousand more such suches, but meere counterfeit spiritlesse and dead resemblances of [Page 204]that true and living way to compleatenesse of heart, [...] be­cause to him the true and living God, the Creator the compleator of the heart. There being nothing good, no­thing of worth but what is in God, in whom as in Christ we are, in these and all graces Compleat. In that meeke and immaculate Lambe, that dreadfull and terrible Lion of Judah, that brazen Serpent in whom are hid all the treasures of wisedome and knowledge. Thus made con­formeable unto that All-sweet All-wise All-mightie Be­ing, the Maker, the Perfection of all things. By whom we are made perfect, through our likenesse to him, our living in him. And here onely here is the rise of that true mag­nanimitie, that consists in the uncontroulable power of a sweet and humble wisedome, God. And now since I have so insencibly slipt thus far into the nature of this grace, & we know not how soon the Lord may settle our distra­ctions of State and Church; and so prevent us with his mercies, and fit us by them, who will never be fitted for them; and it being the Carracter of an ingenious child to feare favours and not to be affrighted with frownes, I will a little draw it forth into that part of it which may be most sutable to those times. It being the nature of it upon the knowledge of God to know nothing else great, no more goods then evills. And yet either so weake is our knowledge, or so seldome our acting it (which makes it for so farre no knowledge to us) that in those Halcyon dayes have wee most neede of the highest re­solves and Princeliest circumspection, not to have our spirits debased in the knowledge of things after the flesh. But now to have a speciall care of exercising that mysterious, that inheavening art of making all things become new, knowing, affecting doing all things under new notions, [Page 205]from new principles, by new rules, to new ends so using the World as not using it; medling with it as in transitu, by the way, as a viaticum a baite when needs & but what needs, &c. See Page 27.

'Tis then's the danger when the danger's past,
Th' inward foe fights wilier when the outward's cast.
Tacticks unheard of; covert stratagems;
Sly in his Methods, suddenly he hems
Us in with tempting troops; while w' thought h'had been
Distant by many miles, we're rounded in
A Maze of fatall friends, straite rout our thoughts
To a desbausch't confounded yeelding brought.
Stand sentinell soule, unlesse thou standst Perdu,
Loosest thy life, thou't not the losse escue.

Capua Hannibali Cannae Fuit. A rich and pleasant Asia is more dangerous then a barren and hungry America; lue and tepid bathes then harsh & storming windes; these confirming, those consuming the hardiest spirits, not guarded with discretion. Neither indeed is it a thing so worthy a Christian to seeke for an abiding Citie when this inferior is like to be fired about his eares. To make friends of the unrighteous Mammon when it is ready to be snatcht from us; to estrange our selves from these things when they turne their backe upon us. But when the world shail comes with its Cornucopia of riches, plea­sures glory, &c. and would poure all upon our heads; and God on the other hand readie to poure downe more aboundantly of that anointing that teacheth us all things, that qualifieth us with more Kingly, Propheticall, Priest­ly endowments, and fills us with joy and gladnesse above [Page 206]our fellewes; now not to leave the substance for the shade, the Pearle for the Barly-corne, is somewhat like him that lives by faith, and hath made a true discovery of that onely excellent object. Now when the world comes fleering in all her whorish attire with the most cunning and sophisticall insinuations, and our spirits are in the height of their jollitie ready to throw themselves into her imbraces, when the out­ward and inward temptations thus powerfully met in their united strength; now to command them off, is in­deede to command a mans selfe, the most noble con­quest. And surely this magnanimitie, this inlargeing, this heighthning heate and vigour of heart is conveyed in equally with those beames of divine illumination. Which wonderfully marvellous light, which kingdome of Heaven first entering into us and wee into it at our first entrance on Mount Sion, workes thus diffusively on the understanding-the-heart-the whole. All things are as they are compared to God; but him in the face of Christ I see the onely good, and therefore (as contraries illu­lustrate each other) whom have I in earth in Heaven but Thee? I see nothing in the whole creation in its best and setledest state, but a blacke and horrid Caos of vanitie, of deformitie; farther then it partakes of him; farther then I can espie in it the scatterings of the divine Raies. And surely the men of the world comparing themselves with themselves, and the things with the things of the world are not wise. Rectum est index sui & obliqui. The light of the manifestation of it selfe and darkenesse. He then that doth truth commeth to this light, to see whether his workes be of God.

T's the shining Sunne discovers those motes of sinne,
Those subtler mists of fleshie steames, betweene
Our spirit our light our life and us, those beames.
Of shadowing lusts that darke our lightfull beames.
Still shine lo'd Sunne! discovering still dispell,
And in dispelling discover our heart-bred hell.
Those uncouth Cells, those shades of dismall death,
Those haunts of horrid Fiends, whose mickle skeath
Of mortall wounds, hous'd in a golden sheath
Of minion comforts, steale away the breath
With fatall kisses; whilst th' guile-favouring night
Maskes their infernall shapes; till th' friendly light
Of faithfull truth appeare, and put to flight
Their wilely force b' its wisely succouring might.
Thus more commended it, my triumph more
Increast, such enemies so triumphed o're.

Thus the sincere heart brings himselfe and all the world to this all-revealing Sunne; to see what they have of him, in whom hee hath approved the onely, and onely fincere-making, excellencies, by that single eye of faith, that singles him out as its onely object, as desiring to see nothing but him, at least mediately if not immediately. And though this latter is the way wherein the earnestly heartie desires of the soule run after the full and uninter­rupted in oyment of God, yet in regard of the frailtie of the flesh, the weakenesse slendernesse imbecilitie of the intermediate spirits that are as the ties and ligaments be­twixt the foule and the body, and could not long con­teine themselves without being utterly dissolved, shud they be unintermittedly bent and held up to that exten­sive intensivenesse whereunto they are wrought by those [Page 208]great and glorious thoughts of those savoury and cordi­all apprehensions (which in the Lord Christ they have and without him they cannot have) of that simple and infi­nite good, which not onely carry forth the soule in a glad venture but transport it in an eager pursuit of this happy dissolution, yet bethinking it self that there may be a selfe-seeking in this selfe-loosing, that it is to live to o­thers not it selfe, to doe not receive, it is willingly forced with a kind of unpleasant pleasantnesse to further enter­taine its faith in naturall sense least it should wholly vanish into supernaturall. So may our soules O Lord be incessantly continually devoted to thy feare, so may they be devout even in all their earthly affaires may se devovere vow themselves from themselves, and pay their vowes continually. So may they ever live in thy fight in thy light that they may never depart from thy feare, that they may never more give the lie to their pro­fessed knowledge & fellowship with the light, by walking in the wayes of darknes; but shew forth the glory of their father in Heaven, by the reflection of their serene sincere light some conversation on earth. And certainly could we stand with this [...] this stretching forth of the head in an earnest looking on him, and longing for him, wee shu'd have such an assuence of light and life breake in upon our soules, and shine on our wayes, that we shu'd walke up and downe like starres shot from Hea­ven, till having dazled the eyes of the world into an en­vious astonishment wee shu'd remount for ever fixed in our highest spheare. Now according as our aspect is on Him, so is it also to others; if that but oblique, this but dimme and obscure; but if that perpendicular, this live­ly and glorious, O that wee were more excellently skil­led [Page 209]in these holy optickes; we cu'd not but be in The­ologie, and therefore in Ethicks Oeconomicks, &c. And cu'd we but live soberly righteously and godlily upon (as we ran not but, cannot chuse but upon) the sight of God, avant then false lights, false comforts for ever, then he that shall come will come and will not tarry; for the Lord is certainly waiting to bee gratious to that soule that is thus stedfastly waiting to be guided by him. This indeed being the product the effect of the sense of that. Neither know I any such (if any other) sincere and con­stant seeking as that when I thought of (an absent) God I was troubled, and refused to be comforted by any thing but himselfe, as knowing nothing else true comfort. Nei­ther can there be such seeking but from a true and lively saith, not such a waiting but from a sincere-and-fervent love; therefore not unlikely the Apostle (thus intima­ting the nature of these graces) translates those passages of Esaiah 11.10. with Rom. 15.12. 1 Cor. 2.9. with Isa. 64.4. seeke, trust; waite, love. Seeking faith and waiting love. Here is that great Art of a Christian, to be seeking still seeking the face of God. I have set the Lord Alwayes before my face therefore, &c. Seeke yee the Lord and seeke his face Evermore. I am Continually With thee. Be in the feare of the Lord all the day long. Here is that great difference of sinceritie and hypocrisie. Will the hypocrite pray al­wayes? Will he seeke God in prosperitie as well as in adversitie. At mid day in his businesse, all the day long, hourely and minutely as well as morning & evening, and at the solemne assembly? Will he live the life of faith in the flesh, in all sensuall things? is he crucified to the world and the world to him? Is he dead, and this that even his mor­tall body lives, is it by the quickning of the spirit? doth hee [Page 210]walke up and downe the world as a man that hath nei­ther life nor soule, but onely as inlivened as animated hence? is he ever lifting up his face to God, that that flood of light and life that thence with such mighty incomes flowes in upon the soule, might beare downe before it every thought that exalts it selfe against the kingdome of the Lord Christ, &c. that wholy given over to the pow­er, sway and guidance of it, wholly casting it selfe into its imbracings, while it lies drown'd as it were in a Sea of loves and sweetnesses, in a blessed astonishment and stupefaction, it is elevated in the highest advancement of life and spirits in the Lord of life and glory, that de­scended and ascended to draw up with him all that ad­heres to him. O were the soule wound up to this pitch, and watched at it; and wound up againe if never so little slipt downe; how might we live! O still still let us be in this blessed vision of God with more continued in­tentivenesse; contracting thence, or rather dilating those Coexistant, inherent, essentiall, which we call attributed species. Then others beholding the stedfastnesse of our faith, could not but there see more of that radiant image in its deputed Majestie; the ball of the sensuall eye not more naturally expressing the Idea of the directly opposite and neighbouring visage, then this of the spirituall, of faith, doth that of God. And certainly no sence doth furnish us with more, and more cleare conceptions of God, then the sight; being for its ready commence with the soule, for its extention, and intention, the properest most conduci­ble and advantagious of all; being the most spatious, farthest reaching, pure, simple, active, and therefore most apprehensive: and next to that the hearing, being the lesse grosse and earthly of all the rest. But to keepe to that; [Page 211]As the Sunne conveyeth heate and activitie inseperably with, and proportionably to its light, so is the truth lo­ved and done so farre and onely so farre as it is seene. The actions are spurious and illigitimate that are not conceived in the heart and begotten by the eye; it will be our wisedome then so truly to informe the latter at we desire the well and right forming and performing of the other. Let us looke on him then by no other Or­gan then faith, thorough no other medium then Christ; at no other distance, then the mearest ap­proaches; even to such an unitie, that wee see our selves in him and him in us. When with the wicked wee put God farre from us, and see the world draw nigh us, then seemes he little and this great; but when we draw neere to him, what a pointile, what an atome, what a nothing it seemes, nay it is? And as the medium is ever the fame, so is the Organ then best when most refined, abstracted, metaphysicall, subtilized, sublimed and sence-rarified; cause then most proportionable and sutable to the sim­plicitie and puritie of the object it intends, and therefore consequently to the extensivenesse and infinitie of it, God being simply infinite and infinitely simple. And therefore as wisedome consists in the clearenesse and quicknesse, so in the inlargednesse, of the understanding; but since that knowledge that light in every thing wee draw from him is the onely true wisedome, wee are then wisest when our understandings are most clarified by him, most acted on him. And surely this clarifying of our faith is according to the intimatenesse of our hum­bly bold accesse unto him; the nature of this Sunne be­ing to give light to the blind, and that more or lesse ac­cording as we are more off, or apply our selves nearer to [Page 212]Him. And surely while we thus see God in the holiest of holies, all the kingdomes of the earth in their freshest and heart-stealingest lovelinesse, and that set forth in the most rich and glorious accoutrements, will lie at our feete as a dead and rotten carkasle; so farre shall we be from committing folly with it; so farre, that though then too our spirits be at the liveliest, as they cannot but be, yet because wee, nay therefore because we, be as cru­cified, as dead to it, as it is to us. Such power hath this sight to fill the heart with love, this love to hold the soule close to God, from any thing that would part it from him, and to carry it forth in all readinesse of obedience with him. When contrarily while we are looking on the world without God, we are but looking on so many ly­ing vanities, that dead the heart to reall and full con­tentments, withholding it from God, and setting the hand on worke in the wayes of sinne; which still estrange the soule from Him, and keep Him at a distance from the soule; that more deading the heart, that, &c. so the soule running on in a round of wickednesse, if God not gra­tiously breake in, and hinder its course. Which when he doth, his presence makes grace to grow by the inter­changeable officiousnesse of all its undivided parts. The sight of God inflaming the affections, they inciting to actions, these againe [...], stirring up the fire in more fervent flames, they giving in greater light, that discovering more beautie, that kindling more fire, that animating to more action, this againe, &c. so truely infi­nitely, infinitely, infinitely sweet is the comfort of the God-conversing soule. The soule that hath received the truth in the love thereof; and he that loves mee keepes my Commandements, & he that doth my will shall know my will; [Page 213]he that hath my Commandements as his possession, riches, &c. and keepes them as his greatest joy comfort life, he it is that loves me and to him will I manifest my selfe; Now this manifestation againe fills the heart with more opera­tive and effectuall love, this againe, &c. Thus Faith worketh by love, the fulfilling of the Law, the end of the Com­mandement out of a pure heart and of a good conscience and of faith unfained; the sinceritie whereof must needs be ac­cording to the sight it hath of God, according to the lovelinesse, worth chooseablenesse that it seeth in him. Faith then I take to be (by what of light in this night of blindnesse and darkenesse I can see) such a light as shi­ning on the intentively beholding soule through the face of Christ, hath that influence and attractive power with it, to draw it up and make it cleave and adhaere with all its might and strength to God, to lift up the heart to, and make it goe along with him in all his wayes. While like the Helitrophion, it turnes and winds; shuts and opens with the motion of the Sunne of righteousnesse. And this light thus influenced, thus working (how ever clouded and obscured to a Christians selfe) to be wisedome unto salvation, that effectuall knowledge of God & his Christ, comming into, and received of, the soule, that is life eter­nall already taken hold of, and ere long fully prossessed, or thus,

Faith is a promise-lighted, seeking, light,
Burnes with pure fervent love, whose active might
In every radiant precept shining bright
Reflects its glory to the Father-Light.
Thus, these three-one obedience-faith-and love
Unite my soule to those Thee-One Above.

John 11.5.7.

A seeking ( Isaiah 11.10. with Romans 15.13.) Satisfy­ing ( John 5.44. with John 14.1.) Faith, ( John 1.4.19.) a sincere ( Phil. 1.10. Matth. 6.22. Eph. 6.24.) Fervent ( Cant. 8.6.7.) love ( John 14.15.) an universall ( Psal. 119.6. Jam. 2.10. Ephe. 4.23. Matth. 5.10.) Constant ( Cor. 1.15.58.) Obedience. So that grace is, faith un­derstanding, faith affecting, faith acting. And must needs, because whatsoever is not of faith is sinne. Nei­ther indeed can I wonder how feare hath lead me to faith, but shud certainly take my selfe to be seduced, if it did not. All graces, how distant soever seeming, being of the same company, going the same way; so that he that is with one, must needs be with all. And questionlesse all are wrought in the soule together, and grow to­gether; how ever in the minoritie of our Christianitie God may teach us methodo analytica, may as it were par­cell them forth into severall lessons, till our capacities are more widened and strengthned for the fuller and compleater apprehension of them, according as wee grow in our manhood in Christ Jesus. And hence is it that so often in Scripture a Christian is caracterised by one onely; But especially by faith and feare, that in the old, this in the new Testament; one, in Christ more dark­ly shadowed out, the other in Him more evidently re­vealed, but both in Him: according to the manifold wise­dome of God in Him by whom Hee hath reconciled all things, the severall kinds of actings of the soule as well as severall soules to one another, and all to himselfe. So that what they said of their vertues, that there was cogna­tio quaedam & arcta necessitas betweene them, I am sure holdeth most true of graces; betwixt whom there is [Page 215] cognatio certa & necessitas perquam arctissima. All of the noblest and familiarest consanguinitie, being all of the blood of Christ. Or conceive them as so many linkes of a Bracelet, the love token of the soule from its Christ, lincked together in an invielable concatination; you cannot breake off one, but the whole figure and forme of the worke (as it is said of the Commandements where­by these are framed (as it were) and cast) is broken. And indeed there is nothing of Christ in the soule, but it is Christ. Christ formed in you. You have not so learned Christ. We preach Christ, &c. the whole sum of the Gos­pell-Law, and Law-giving Gospell, and consequently the whole worke of grace being onely Christ. So that we cannot so much as thinke the least good thought of our selves. What we doe, what we have, what we are, of good, we doe, we have, we are not; but it is God, the spi­rit of Christ that dwells in us, and so indeed ours, so we, as Christians as outed of our selves, as inned in God, perta­kers of the divine Nature, &c. whose being in us habitually, whose acting in us, imminently or transiently, is all our grace. Now the spirit of God is indivisible, and there­fore are all our graces; homogeneous, harmonious; have a gracefull symetrie, analogie, proportion, to one another; make but one systeme, joynt frame, and body of Christianitie; how different so ever, how discrepant soever the parts, the members seeme, they are gracefull to, usefull to each other. Are like so many faculties of the same soule in innocency, before by our fall they were like a watch dashed against, troubling and stopping the course of one another. Which mended againe by their maker, though like severall wheeles they seeme to move not onely diversly but contrarily, yet are they all mo­ved [Page 216]by one spring, and further the due motion of each other, and all tend to the same end, the promoveing of the same gnomen, in promoting of the glory of their God, and setting forth the praise of that never-suffici­ently admired workemanship. (And though there may be some hamerings and knockings in setting the minde in frame, some paines in the new birth, some harshnesse in the tuning of the soule, yet they do all tend to the com­pleating of that inconceiveable harmony. Though God often times, (specially in the more powerfull times of the Gospell) brings forth Christ formed, as it were without any paine, tunes the heart as it were with one touch, and sets up the whole and joynt frame of the temple, without scarse any the least sound of the hammer.) And as a wheele, not onely by, but in its going downe, is Ipso facto going up, so those graces that seeme onely to cast downe the soule, doe not onely afterward, but in the very do­ing of it, raise it up; as humilitie, feare, griefe, &c. which so farre as divine, and as I may say Gospell-proofe, are still raysing up the soule in the greater assurance, magna­nimitie, joy, and these (as it were) still casting it downe, and that againe raysing it up, &c. As there is nothing that more humbles the soule then heavenly mindednesse, so is there nothing that more sublimes it then humilitie; as there is nothing that strikes the soule with a deeper awe then the assurance of the eternall love, so in the feare of Jehovah is the strongest confidence; as it is an unsound and vaine joy that hath no acquaintance with sorrow, so is it a sinfull and death-working sorrow that reares not up the soule to more livelmesse and joy, &c.

And thus we progresse on our speedy round,
While grace helpes grace to rid away the ground.
Not grace and grace, but one promoveing wheele,
Whose apprehension-parted particles feele
Their one selfe equally-proficients, while
We are one Christ, converts us from this soyle
In never-resting firie circles, till
In perfect motion on our holy hill,
Thus while the world runs roundly downe to Hell,
We roundly up to th' Heavenly Domicill.

Christ, I see, I fall, I fall in love, for love I die, this death's my life, this life's my worke, this worke's my life, this life's my light, this lively light's my death, this death's my fall, my rise to come to flie unto my light love life my Christ. Happy, happy soule in truth, whom the sight of God the beautie of truth of holinesse shining through the face of Christ as a mutuall perspective of re­ciprocall delight, keepes in an humble-meeke-peaceable-lovefull-fearing-joying-strongly-confident every-way gratious posture! And hither I suppose lookes that of James, the meekenesse of wisedome; not onely cause they as all graces convene in one bundle of life, in one poesie of heavenly fragrancies; nor of the proficiencie of wise­dome by meekenesse, in that the humble he will teach; nor from the nature of it, in that the wisedome from above is first pure and thence peaceable gentle easie to be intreated, &c. as in pure cleane sweet-juiced bodies, free from the repugnancie of sower cholericke hetrogeneous humors; but because the first rise of this so especially blessed grace is from wisedome, from the knowledge of God and our selves. And hither that, unite my heart to feare thy name, as touched before. And that, fearefull in praises, the same discovery that presents me God praise worthy for his great goodnesse presenting me him feare-worthy for his good greatnesse, Hither that, now I have seene thee with [Page 218]the seeing of the eye I abharre my selfe in dust and ashes, the soule might heare else long enough, (though indeed too faith comes by hearing, yet so as it is made an effectuall meanes to open the eyes.) And hither that, holy, holy, ho­ly, I am a man, &c. Hither that behaviour of the foure and twenty Elders, that on the contemplation of the excel­lencies of God threw downe their crownes, their excellen­cies at his feete, as being nothing but what they had of Him. in Him, for Him. But life would faile mee; in referring zeale and constancie, &c. and all other graces hither, in what dependancie relati­on they stood to one another. Sinne being like so much muck and dung on the fire of zeale; the more unmixt, the more intent, &c. The feare of the Lord being a cleant feare and abiding for ever; make me sound in thy statutes- and steadfast in thy Covenant; The inheritance undefiled that fadeth not away; [...]; how that the purer the thing is, the more free from corruption, heterogene­ousnesse, the more stable firme durable it is, so the body, so the soule. But now we know this puritie, this sinceri­tie is by this discovery, therefore this constancy, this zeale, &c. And hither that, the things that are seene are temporall but the things that are not seene are eternall. The things that are not seene being rare pure holy simple, &c. and therefore free from corruption, and therefore from alteration, from decay. But into what a blessed maze, and gladly involving labarinth hast thou wound thy selfe O my soule! And sha't thou be so unhappy e­ver to finde the way out againe? Is it not good for us ever to wander here, in these paths of pleasure, and walkes of delight? Can there be any thing that can steale away the heart so surrounded with such glories, such [Page 219]loves? But, art thou not to thy selfe but to thy God, and doth he call thee to workes of an inferiour nature? Still worke and wonder, worke and love, worke and blesse; still keepe thy ground, thy God, who is the God of the vallies as well as of the mountaines. And still while thou art walking with him thorough a diverse path, loose thy selfe in him, who shall shortly with all them that in truth have knowne his name, be ever lost in the blessed con­templation of the wonderfull contrivances of the eternall wisedome. When there shall be no more eating and drinking, no more sleeping and rest, no more spending of spirits, no more avocations from the immediate and uninterrupted continually active contemplation in that full vision of the onely blessed God, and in him of all his wonderfull works. When there shall be no successive­nesse of plenary intuition and perfect action, but still the heart that knowes-loves-obeyes him, continually over­powred with the blessed vision and over-flowing in loves and sweetnesses, shall be incessantly running over in heart ravishing praisings, and intranced in perpetuall extasies. Who is it that even now is able to conceive the heaven that is in his owne heart? what then when we there see- and love-and-sing-and-sing-and-love-and see eternally? when we shall not onely have the spirit in us, but be in, be wholy in the spirit. Perfused, baptized, overwhel­med with it. Not onely see and have, light, joy, love, spirit, but be In, nay be spirit, light, joy, love! And now O Lord what are wee that it should be thus with us! O thou life of life! and being of beings! thou incompre­hensible God! What is it to thee that wee know thee? that we love thee? what pleasure hast thou in our righteous­nesse? or what profit it is to thee that we make our wayes per­fect? [Page 220]surely O Lord thou hast thou hast none! who art so infinitely above all happie and holy! none but what thou acceptest as such in him, in whom thou onely art, in whom we onely are, well pleased. In whom thou wilt welcome us, with a Well done, good and faithfull servant, when thou shalt finde us so doing, who have done, nothing. What are our understandingst thoughts of thee; but as so many mishapen confused conceits? What our appo­sitest speeches but as so much jabbering and gibberish? What our accuratest performances, but as so many tri­fling toyes? All childish childish all. What are they fur­ther then they are exercises of, then they are testimonies of our love; the end; the summe, of all the Commandements. Yet what too are our strongest our heart-possessingest loves, but as so many fond and fleeting passions? And yet thou looking on us and we on thee thorough the face of thy Christ, that perspective of mutuall lustre and glory (from, in and for whom are all our thoughts, words, affe­ctions, actions, and ought that ought is) art pleased to ac­cept them as the thoughts, as the language, as the love, as the life of Angells. Whom thou hast made ministring spirits to thy chosen, thy faithfull, that wee with them, and they with us, preferring each other in honour, might all joyntly promote the honour of our onely-honour-wor­thy God. O the freenesse of thy grace! the unfathomed­nesse of thy wisedome! the incomprehensiblenesse of thy glory! O where is the learning that hath learnt thee, that would not willingly debase it selfe, throw downe it selfe, as the footstoole before thy Throne and the Throne of thy Christ! as being nothing but what it is in raysing up the soule to a dutie-learning, to an humble walking with thee: that would not willingly as it were, unlearne all, and learne it over againe in thy Christ? where are those [Page 221]fond and selfe-conceited Opiniasters that would not lay downe all at his feete, at least meekely and selfe-suspect­ingly mannage their Scripture-unevidenced tenets. O did we know in what a blacke cloud of ignorance wee were all involved! in what a night of palpable darke­nesse! (an epithite not unknowne to a Christian heart, that cannot but be feelingly sensible of it.) Had our memo­ries oftener recourse to that Originall pride, that con­founded the language of our minds, as well as that of our tongues; or thought that multiplicitie and incer­tainty of opinions may since purposely be permitted by the divine wisedome and gratious justice to lay us low in our owne eyes, to make us out of love with our selves, &c. how could we then be so proud? and not so, so conten­tious? Why may not all that hold the same head, have the same heart? why may not there be dissention, with­out contention? But every one seeke their owne and none of Christ. Which true foundation, or foundation of truth, laine in the heart if any shall (as who doth not) among our gold and silver, unwittingly build straw and stubble, why should not we labour to purge one anothers drosse with a tender love and carefull salvation (as I may say) of one anothers respects, content, peace, whom the God of love and peace hath promised to save eternally? Or had we observed, that it is with Christians as with the tenent and mortesse in building, the condyles and con­cavities in the bones of the body; he is that eminent at one end (as it were) may be defective at the other, that is excellent in this, may be wanting in that; that so wee may fall in with, joyne closer to one another in one & the same building frame and growing body; so farre should we be from making them as arguments to keepe us at [Page 222]the greater distance. And what indeed is the end of Gods various dispensation of himselfe in such diversitie of gifts, parts, abilities, if not that hee might shew the more of his wisedome in drawing them all so compleat­ly into one gracefull knot; the bond of peace, love; that in such, if not by such a variety, can preserve the uni­tie, if not further the harmony of the spirit of the Lord Jesus ( Ephes. 4. perlege) Or to what purpose is our know­ledge, but for love, for charitie? the fulfilling of the Law, the end of the Commandement out of a pure conscience and of faith unfained? This is the sincere, the true faith, and know­ledge, that thus workes. What puritie of conscience, what life of assection, I see in the conversation (caeteris pa­ribus) by that shall I judge of the truth of the measure of the faith, the knowledge, as the roote by the fruit; and by that I look to be judged by the judge of all things; by him whose call is for, whose residence is in, whose shining is in­to, the heart, where he shewes himselfe, where he is, where he ha's savingly. Not by what is found in my braine, my head, but in my brest my heart; that which sitteth here making musicke to the Lord with a gratious answering to all his wills, a glorious admiration of his love his wise­dome, &c. his mercifull acceptance in the Lord Christ, and not that which it jarring with others there. That which sounds forth God in its life, and not that which founds forth it selfe in its tongue. The Divill I beleeve hath as much knowledge, and can dictate as excellent discourse, as all the men of the world. Knowledge, so farre as it is not cordiall and living, so farre as it is not sappy savory and fruitfull, but dry and barren, or bring­ing forth wild thistles, so farre I shall never thinke it to have the Lord Christ for its roote. So farre as it is not [Page 223] sapida & sertilis, it will proove but insipida & futilis, foo­lish and vaine. I would have knowledge then bee my food, and my food my strength, and my strength my exercise. I wu'd feede with delight, but not for delight; but for the better disgesting of my knowledge into an assimu­lated practice. And be our opinions, notions, what they will, if they convey no more of God along with them, certainly they never came of his sending, who alwayes comes along with the true understanding of his will, of himselfe the onely truth. And by more of his presence induceth more glorious light-more humble love-more faithfull action. And to what purpose have our hearts tugged so hard at heaven, for the pulling downe of those spirituall wickednesses, and exalted vilenesses, [...] Psal. 12. but as they have held up the heads, and strengthned the hands of the ungodly? but as they are those of whom we have no warrant, that they had their commission from him, and therefore no promise that hee would dispence him­selfe through them, but as they are intruders betweene God and us, and obtruders of their ceremoniall and traditionall obstructions in our immediater approaches to him, and they taken away wee might have more of him, and that, that wee might doe more for him. But now, to have the obstacles removed, and the end never the nearer attained, to what purpose is it? To have those who under the pretence of being the Conduit pipes, were the dirt and filth that stopped them; of being the Contrefenestres, the shutting windowes to keepe out the theevery of innovations, schismes, seperations, &c. out of the Church, keepe out the light and truth, and were the greatest schismaticks renters of the Church themselves, to have these I say removed (as sure enough [Page 224]they shall at what ever rate) and wee draw never the more light and life into our hearts into our lives, but still hugge our owne fond imaginations, still seeke about in such extravagancies after our owne inventions, lying vanities, that promise faire, and performe worse then no­thing, what other will it be interpreted by him then the dispising, the turning of his goodnesse his glory into shame, while we know God more, but know him not, and there­fore worship him not, as God, the commander of the whole man. But those (O Lord) that know what it is to know thee, can they but be thankfull, in an active, and [...] action-denying thankefulnes? O then that thou wouldest accomplish the work that thou hast so gratiously so pow­erfully undertaken. How long shall thy servants nau­seate at the fulsomenesse of their pride? Though they make the hearts of kingdomes still ake with it, let them be vomited, be vomited forth thoroughly. Rather let us be pained with our cure, that not prevent our death. We, yea, thou art sicke of their Lukewarmenesse, O when wut [...] thou spue them out of thy mouth. So will we flocke up to mountaines of thy house, and poure forth our soules in thy praises. So in the humilitie of our spirits will we sit at the feet of thy Jesus; and learne at the mouths of thy holy servants. So shall our hearts bow before thee, and out hands be dilgent in thy service. So shall holinesse bee written on our pathes, and our lives be the memorialls of thy mercies. So shall the review of thy favours be as the fringe for remembrance of thy precepts. So shall the wonderfulnesse of our deliverancies be read in the won­derfulnesse of our obedience. So will we commune with our owne hearts and be still, and say, what have wee re­turned thee? What sinne have we more crucified, what [Page 225]dutie have we more, have we better done? So will we offer unto thee, the sacrifice of righteousnesse, of a broken and contrite heart. While wee bind all the faculties of our soule and members of our bodies to thy Alcar: With the cords of our affections to thy Christ, and thou sha't ac­cept them gratiously.

O Lord, our hearts, thy Sion!

DElayes are neither constant grounds of suspect, nor dispaire, neither of suspect of the promisers present good will, nor of dispaire of the promise it's future per­formance. In my last I promised you another, which till now you received not; yet hath this delay neither pro­ved an utter silence, nor proceeded from an unfriend­like disrespect. God hath promised you deliverance which yet you have not yet received; yet can this protra­ction neither argue a change of his fatherly affection, nor unchangeablenesse of your child like afflictions. Neither is it a ground for your doubt of his great prudence or gracious goodnesse in correcting, nor of your comfor­table support in, or seasonable freedome from, the corre­ction. He that beleeveth maketh not hast. Faith is confident of the issue, patience attendant on the time. Two sweet and never-parting companions. An unbeleeving pati­ence, or an impatient beleese, how dissonant are they in the eares of a Christian? How can I with a truly sub­missive and not presuming patience, waite on that God either for helpe in or from distresse, whom I beleeve not on good grounds to be my reconciled father in Christ? Who in him hath promised both; who is faith full and [Page 226]will not suffer, &c. 1 Cor. 10.13. and thus beleeveing, how can I but thus patiently waite on him? And happy thrice happy man is he that thus waites, thus beleeves! Let our afflictions be never so various, never so tedious, let our mindes be never so disquiered, our bodies never so diseased, our estates never so distracted, in a word let deepe call upon deepe, and all the waves and billowes of God passe over us (as David complaines, Psal. 42.7. let afflictions be continuall (as v. 3.) yet but let us with the hand of faith lay fast hold on his loving kindnesse ( v. 8.) on his power in taking him for our rocke ( v. 9.) and this will beare up our heads from sinking, cheare up our hearts from fainting, close up our mouthes from murmuring, yea fill them with praises (v. ult.) in the mid­dest of the waters, be they never so violent, never so shorelesse. Confesse I do the multitude and continuance of crosses are of themselves too heavy weights, and may adde much to the burthen; so much it may bee as may bruise, but never so much as may breake the backe of a true beleever. And yet why talke I either of bruising or breaking? since I may boldly say, be but consident, and you shall be patient, be but patient, and the burthen shall be tolerable, and not onely tolerable, but easie, not easie onely but pleasant. A paradox to a naturall man, but to a spirituall a most approved truth. Otherwise what lesse then a rigid taskmaster might the spirit of God seeme. Who instead of facilitating a Christians suffering, should by the imposing of an impossibilitie exasperate it, were it not a grace that he wu'd give to the humble? James 1. v. 2. a verse with the two following well worthy your serious consideration. Hee saith not, repine not, or further, be patient, but yet further, rejoyce; [Page 227]and how? coldly, or by halfes? no, with all joy: and that when in temptation onely? no in temptations: and those divers too; and that indefinitely for degrees, not in little onely but in temptations, be they what they will be, more or lesse, more or lesse violent: and that when we meet with temptations? No, when we fall into them, when we tumble as it were headlong into the pit, whence there is no easie or suddaine rising. So that we must not onely not repine, but be patient, not onely bee patient but rejoyce, and that with all joy, and that even in the middest of the most tedious, most various, most grie­vous temptations: not onely in the calmenesse of peace, in the Sunshine of honour, in the harvest of riches, in the Eden of pleasure, in a word when the faire skie of prosperitie on every side invites us thereunto, but even then when the glorious Sunne of comfort, our ever­gracious God withdrawes his loving countenance from the sensuall eye, within the darke clouds of poverty disgrace sicknesse, &c. when on every side the tempests of trouble and anxiety beat hard on the soule; then even then is it time for it by the spirituall eye of faith to pierce these clouds and see the loving countenance of its God shining on it even then as bright as ever. Then is it time for patience to be a prop to the head, for joy to bee a cordiall to the heart. Away then with that distrust that breeds impatiency, that impatiency that breeds sorrow, that sorrow that breeds affliction. For indeed no evill afflicts further then it affects, nor affects farther then it enters, nor enters farther then it findes a distrusting and yeelding heart. Let not therefore unbeliefe betray your soule to the tyranny of griefe. Let then the divell, the world, and the flesh conspire against us, let them muster [Page 228]up all their forces, let them environ us with the closest siege, let them cut off all comfortable supplies, let them make the most thundering temptations, the most pier­cing calamities; they can devise? yet why should wee so dishonour our good, disadvantage our selves; as to yeeld where he hath undertaken to defend? where with out yeelding there is no being overcome, and where the being overcome is so dangerous? Maugre all the sick­nesse and paine of the flesh, all the discredit displeasure disprofit of the world, yea all the temptations of the di­vell whatsoever, make but God your stay and strength, bring but your heart to him by unfained repentance for your swarving from him; and him to your heart by a faithfull dependance and relying on him, and you shall remaine as mount Zion that shall not bee removed, And happy, happy sure is that man whose enemies make him such a friend. And indeed nothing, nothing so hap­py were you, when they presented themselves unto you under the specious vizard of health wealth and honour. When they fang unto you their intising songs of ease peace and pleasure, as now when they show themselves in their colours, come against you with banners display­ed, and beat up on every side alarums of terrour and amazement. For then were those fained songs apart to lull you asleepe in the cradle of securitie, those false sights to make you take them for friends, at least not for foes, at least not so deadly foes: But now you see them in their right shape, heare them in their right tone, you fly for succour from a dissembling enemy to a faithfull friend. Who in that he is God cannot but give safe pro­tection, who in that he is good cannot but give all rea­dy and requisite protection, to all that truly come in un­to [Page 229]him. And surely he that is all in all, is able to counter­poise, yea infinitely to over-poyse all carnall content­ments. For indeed what of delight is there in any of these worldly things we call good, as health wealth, &c. Which from him they have not, or without him can have. There is, there is surely nothing in them of themselves, but vanitie and vexation of spirit. Neither is it the meere want or possession of them, but the absence or presence of (our ever-present God) in or with them that can make a man [...] [...]acher happy or unhappy. How else can Paul and Sylas sing in a prison, when Ahab lies sorrow-sick in a Palace? How else can Jobs losse make him patiently de­dendon God, when Judahs gaine makes him desperately depend on a tree? God then must be the ingredient in all these earthly things, else are they like those physicall drugges with uncorrected sooner ruine then restore. So that what is prosperitie unsanctified, but adversitie, what adversitie sanctified but prosperitie. And blessed ever blessed is that man, that thus knowes the peace of per­plexitie, the riches of poverty, the credit of discredit, the pleasure of paine, the health of sicknesse, the libertie of imprisonment; the joy of sorrow, in a word the pro­speritie of a adversitie. And this he knoweth that hath God for his God. Faile then heart and strength, yet shall the strength of our heart faile never. Shall be with us in the fire and in the water, bee an Arke to his Noah a Zoar to his Lot.

Et pater & mater dosunt, nec restat amious,
Nec manet ulla domus, noc manet ulla salus
Tot haud habere sentias necem mala.
Omnia quae multis dantur, tibi nulla, sed ipsum
(Quod vel perpaucis) reddidit ille Deus.
Hic instar omnium fit, atque praevalet.

MY neare and deare friend in the Lord Jesus, I can­not but according to your desire acquaint you with present passages; and passages I may well say, for all these things are but passing shadowes, nothing. Were we in our own place, we might look down upon them as little fleeting vapoury clouds, without raine. Or else see our selves so far above them in this third region, as wee need not feare the storme. It is unworthy the thought of a Christian that hath already laid hold of eternall life, to shrink at the appearing losse of a mortall. But we are men. But God is God. And he is our own God, the God of our salvation, &c. O that we could, that we alwayes could see our selves so partakers of the divine nature, so filled with all the fulnesse of God, that we could look upon life and death, principalities, powers, &c. as things gi­ven in unto us, and all as things under our feet, at our command; for so they are to him that beleeves, for all are ours, and we are Christs, and Christ is Gods. Our faith must fall before we, and our God before our faith. For it is founded on that rock, that living stone, that is the life of all the building. Let us stand therefore having ta­ken us unto the whole armour of God, for what can the man doe that comes after the devill? And surely little, nay no cause have we to feare in adversity, that can stand in prosperity. That soule, and only that soule that in this estate can follow God fully, be so satisfied with the hourely, minutely presence of God, that in all things it crosses it selfe of its own will, as not enduring the least [Page 231]estrangement from him, certainly in the other the mer­cies of God shall so follow him, so shall he delight him­selfe continually in him, as that in all things hee will crosse men and devils of their wills against him, and so over-powre him with the light of his countenance, with­out which he was dead in the dearest injoyments, and with which he lives in the deadliest confusions) as shall make them gnash their teeth to see such a divine re­flect from that light unspeakable and glorious, whereby he shall be able to laugh death and destruction in the face. But shall we not feare, not grieve? He is no true Christian that doth not. Shall the Lion roare, and we not tremble? Yet must we be confident in this feare, and joy in this sorrow. And indeed the feare of God is strength, ( Prov. 14.26. Psal. 112.1. with ver. 7. and 8.) And by the humility of our heart is our trust in the Lord, Prov. 28.25. But audaciousnesse and pride will shrinke in the wetting. Neither will James his joy, 1.2. hold good without Pauls sorrow. 2 Cor. 7.7. Nor his sor­row without his joy. It is not the excesse of feare and griefe, but the defect of confidence and joy that hurts us. Our own weaknesse can never too much fright us. Our own and others sins grieve us. Neither will it be found so proper and soveraign a salve to those happily languish­ing consciences, to tell them they are too much dejected, cast down, sorrowfull; but rather they have too little lifted up Christ in their hearts, and their hearts in Christ. It is impossible to think too basely of our selves (and if there may be degrees in impossibility) more impossible to think too highly of Him. When we are led back by any particular sin to the Originall source of all (as wee must if we mean to know it to any purpose) and see the [Page 232]horrid shape of it, and become sensible of the malignity, the universality, the inherencie of it, &c. with all those infinite (as to us) actuall breakings out of rebellion from it, or rather the divers kinde of breaking out of one con­tinued unintermitting act; now while the soule is thus taking a bottome-and through-searching view of it selfe, by a beame of the divine Light and Love shed abroad in its heart (without which it could make no through, no true discovery of it) and thereupon throwes it selfe be­low the lowest hell, in a sensible self-condemning, while it is still held up by the hand of faith in an unspeakably blessed distraction; now to see this Sun of Righteous­nesse still rising, and rising with its infinite-surpassing in­finitenesse of glory, splendor, lovelinesse upon the light­transformed soule, lying under the gracious droppings of its healing wings, O how sweet is that healing! How, how glorious that Sun! But the seeing, the feeling soul, where is it? How high! how low! How lost between both! Be then as sorrowfull my soule as may be, thou canst not be enough for sin. As joyfull as may be, thou canst not be enough for grace. Abate not of that sorrow, but increase this joy. Goe as low as thou canst, but bee sure thou risest higher by it. To be so dejected and cast down, as not to be heightned, raised by it, in the admi­ration, the love, the life of thy Saviour, is indeed to have proud and haughty thoughts of thy selfe, and low and undervaluing of thy Christ. Never feare thy livelinesse and cheerfulnesse so far, as duely objected on him. Nor lessen so much thy love to the creature, as augment it to Him thy Creator. Affect with the strongest and heartiest indearement any thing beside him, and yet abhorre it with the most detesting and abominating hatred for him. [Page 233]There is nothing that I set my eye on that I wu'd not love as proceeding from him, as subsisting in him. But so far as degenerate from him, as comming in competiti­on with him, the indignation wherewith it affects me is inutterable. Thus shall Cesar best have his due, and God his: Himself, and what is subordinate to him. God takes a­way no affection no nor the intensivenesse of it, but onely its obliquitie to the object. Nay I am perswaded that all worldly feare, all worldly sorrow fall farre short of spiri­tuall; the one being from a displeasing world which is finite, the other from a displeased God who is infinite. But how great then is that consident joy to which this fearing griefe is but a set off? For these to overcome the soule and them for Christ to come and overcome that conquest what a triumph will there be? Oh the depth of the riches both of the wisedome and knowledge of God, &c. And blessed, ever blessed be our God that we are not of them from whom hee hath hid the mistery of god­linesse! strength made perfect in weakenesse, concor­ding discord. And if it be the glory of God to bring light out of darkenesse, good out of evill, how can we but re­joyce that by being subjects of the one we come to bethe instruments of the other, 2 Cor. 12. 1 Cor. 2.5. And if good be the object of the concupiscible facultie, why shu'd we make our affections the object of our irascible. The Lord strengthen us with joy in the inner man, and then goe it how it will with the outer. So may we gladly keepe the word of his patience in the saddest and patience-as­saultingst times; so shall hee keepe us from, or at least in, and therefore from, the houre of temptation that shall come upon all the world to try them. Now is it a time for the patience of the Saints, for them that keepe the [Page 234]Commandements of God and the faith of Jesus: Now is it a time for those that have held fast this inviolable knot in the bond of love, to hold up their heads in re­joycing, as then knowing the greater redemption drawes nigh when the greater calamitie approaches. Thus what ever of these things we may know already (feelingly in the heart, if not notionally & perspicuously in the head) let us not faile to put one another alwayes in remembrance. Alwayes striving together in our Prayers, and that with no small conflict of heart that we may be comforted, being knit together in love and unto all riches of the full assurance of understanding, to the ac­knowledgement of the mistery of God, and the Father, and of Christ. Had we more godly and brotherly love, wee should have more comfort, and that would hunger after more knowledge, and that fill with more assurance, and that furnish with more grace, and all acknowledge the mistery of the puritie, of the wisedome, of the love of the Godhead. So much spirit so much faith, so much faith so much Christ, so much Christ so much love, so much love so much knowledge, so much knowledge so much fulnesse of God. Eph. 3.16. &c. Come then what may come, befall what may befall to the flesh: The Lord be with, the Lord will be with, will be, our Spirits.

‘Ruat Mundus, Restat Deus.’
PLay on about the Candle wanton flie,
Play, sindge thy wings, consume thy soule, and die.
Make jests of Scripture-jeere the God of heaven,
Laugh at the Light-mock them who hath receiven
It in their hearts-and shine it in their lives.
Invent unheard of opprobries; contrive
New fashion'd obloquies; scum hell for scurrulous wit,
Or dive th'lowest depths of the unfathom'd pit.
'T will furnish thee with just sufficient store
To make thy selfe a foole and nothing more.
Enough, and but enough, to over-reach
And cheate thy selfe, th' infernall cheater'l teach.
Else shud'st be wiser then thy master, shud
Thy wit have wit enough to make thee good.
On madnesse, belch thy deadly Antipathie
To heaven in thy horrid blasphemy.
Cast up thy workes, and reare thy mounts on high,
Heape fetch on fetch, to overtop the skie.
Shield thee with distinctions, say it is not him
Thou shoot'st at, but his word, Saint, Image, Limbe.
Not God, but God in them. While merrily along
To the correcting stocks the foole holds on
His heedlesse way, tickled with the high desert
Of h's flattering wit into his endlesse smart.

PUritan, the invention of Hell, the Character of a Christian, the language of prophanenesse, the blas­phemy of God, the evomition of a heart desperately wicked, a glorious defamation, an undermining of, an open thrust at the very heart, life, and power of Religon, an evident preferring of Pharisaicall formes and Laode­cean neutralitie, a Match-divillian device to kindle sire in Church and State; a slie practise of the old Serpents old maxime, Divide and Raigne; a word that is as it is made, enterteined. And what indeed is this Puritan but a Protestant drawing naturall conclusions from his owne [Page 236]praemises, beleeving and living according to his owne profession, at the highest pitch of his owne principles. Nor know I indeed how one differs otherwise from the other then a Papist from an Arminian. A perfect birth from an Embrio; a Bird from an Egge. Time and due heate (Cateris non obstantibus) will give them both their full maturity. And as I have had it from good hands, confessed by a Papists that Protestanisme not kept down wu'd naturally grow up to Puritanisme. And surely that which doth not is but a dry and dead stumpe without branches, or at farthest leaves without fruite. Is that tree which cumbers the ground, is that ground which is nigh unto cursing, to the executed sentence of its amendment-una­verted judgement. Let then this or whatsoever other synonymous Nickname, any divill-brooded braine hath latelier hatched, be sent forth drest in the gavest feathers of proud and selfe-conceited and therefore desperately foo­lish wit, yet shall they prove but finer colour'd excre­ments, but ensignes of their vanitie (and therefore not sea­sonably prevented) of their eternall vexation of spirit. But what then those more blacke and darke aspersions of im­pudently-forheaded calumniators, with the very thoughts where of I abhorre to defile my memory. Whose empty whose witlesse wit, is so taking with, because so easily ap­prehensible by, so aptly sutable to, corrupt nature: While the substantiall wisedome of heaven is only justified by her children. Who have learnt of her, how ever these scoffers deceive themselves, God, whom in his word, Saints, &c. they mock, will not be mocked, Jude 15. Act. 4.9. Matth. 25.42. &c.

Try all things, hold fast that which is good.

REject the Branne, reteine the flower.
All things abide their sifting houre.
Perfection onely in Heaven is.
'Tis knowledge here to know we misse.
But they who studdy not to advance,
Are ignorant of their ignorance.
But we that follow on to know,
In floods of lights and loves shall flow.
Baptiz'd in glory, till wee see
Th' unseene in all his Puritie.
But what? O what! then shall we be,
Who so much of him here can see?
Chant in a fire of humble zeale,
Soule-loosing hymns of restlesse weale.
Ravish't, and ravish't, while we rest,
Hugg'd in his aye-fomenting brest.
Surrounded in a Maze of blisse:
Distracted with felicities.
While firmely resident in one
In whom All knowables are knowne.
The things that neither eye, eare heart,
Can see heare thinke the milliont'h part:
Who see nor love simplicitie,
Inf'nit Invisibilitie.
O what! what then! who this now, know!
Yet know not ought, as w' ought to know!
TIs calme within, and so I sang before.
'Tis calme without, so sing what sang before.
My head-my heart-my hand shall sing
My God my Prophet Priest and King.
These three below with those above
Shall make six parts unite in love.
And so I sang in the extreamest storme,
And what else can I'n the serenest calme.
O Teach thy servant to be humble,
for the humble thou wilt teach.
Let him see thee and he dies,
and he lives for ever.
Send forth thy Light and thy Truth,
and let them lead him in thy presence.
Cause thy face to shine upon him,
and it will teach him they statutes.
Thy loving kindnesse is better then life,
O let it never depart from him.
O Comfort him with thy Aples,
and refesh him with thy Cordialls.
For his soule is sicke, is sicke with love,
O thou Discerner of hearts.
Why are thy Chariot wheeles so slow,
How long shall he looke out of the window!
How, how long shall those beauties be masked,
and the God of glory vailed!
When shall this night of ignorance turne day,
and these thicke clouds be dispersed!
Why hast thou showne thee and but shown thee,
O fully, abidingly,
Thou hast wounded his heart with thy glories,
and it bleedeth inwardly.
It sinkes, it falls, it dies,
for want of more wounding.
'Tis sweetly imbittered with thy inconceavable,
thy insupportable Loves.
What bounds can hold it, what thing detaine it,
what expressions describe it.
How long shall it languish in thy strength
and expire in thy breathings.
O never never shall these gratious
visitations forsake it.
THus all my life's a course of seeking Thee,
Who liv'd, who lost Thy life, in seeking me.
Such is my faith, such shall my finding be,
Whose love hath found the way to waite on Thee
With righteous works, which can't extended be
To Thee, but thou wu't meete so doing me.
So running from my selfe to be
Ingulph't in ever-blessed Thee.
So twining streames in sweete confusion,
Till know my Love without allusion;
Clos'd in a Close without Conclusion.
I have gasped after thy Salvation O Lord!
Even so come Lord Jesus come quickly.

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