sp'rit But let my sp'rit how e'er I dye deare Lord Wade through thy deepest Iudgements on thy Word The Sinner acknowledges and admires his owne frailtie desiring Grace and strength to stand in Vâ—rtue and with-stand Vice AFfliction still lyes heauie on my Soule which makes her stupid dry and dull to pray Then Lord vnlesse thou doe her pow'r controule she needes must sinke to Hell beneath her sway O Sinne that with high Hand dost hurle so low thou art sole Cause of his so bad Effect Thou NOTHING that dost all things ouerthrow not staid by Grace why dost me thus deiect O had I beene abortiue and dead borne or if not so the Font had rest my breath Then had I made a quicke and safe returne that now must passe in perill to my death I can but sinne then Iustice can but scourge so Sinne and Scourges wheeling o'er me goe Yea Sinne being quiet I it oft doe vrge so on me with it pull a World of woe Lord what am I that am so rarely fraile that can doe nothing that is sinne I can For Sinne is Nothing yet it doth preuaile against me Something that is marres a Man When I doe minde the strange Austeritie familiar with some reclus'd from this life The watching praying fasting charitie the fights with Flesh with Sinne the endlesse strife I am amaz'd with wonder grieu'd with shame nay waighing theirs with mine my conscience bleeds To see the ods ô fie I am to blame to call it ods sith it all ods exceedes For white and blacke doe farre lesse disagree then theirs and mine mine being lighty darke Theirs darkly light and lights the darke to see notorious I for sinne they Saints of marke So that I am confounded but to minde the ods surmounting ods betweene the two For in my selfe with Pride all ill I finde in them all good and yet most humble too Then sith Comparisons are but too blame betweene things so repugnant for they doe But shew the ods vnto the worsers shame I will forbeare and beare the blemish too For all reproch though infinite it were comes short of endlesse sinne in foule offence Then may I well that All as nothing beare which Centers but my sinnes Circumference For weake as frailtie is my strongest force in fight with vices and in ghostly warres At best no better then a liuing Corse and that the Vrne that but my Soule interres I fight but faint the first Incounter trying yet oft by standing on my strength too much I quite am foil'd that might haue foil'd by flying such is my rashnesse and my weakenesse such If I o'er come as seldome so I doe my spirit growes proud and confident withall So this farre worse then that doth me vndoe for spirituall pride still takes the lowest fall But when I fall thy help Lord I inuoke to raise me rais'd I fall to worser ill So seeme but leaue to craue though it I cloke but still to fall and to be raised still But to thee knower of all thoughts it 's knowne such Boones are sinnes that beg but leaue to sinne My Boones no better be for being downe I craue to rise by Grace to fall therein And though my Prayers aime at no such end yet in the end sith I but rise and fall It seemes I did but by the same entend to make my selfe thy Mercies Racket-ball Which falling hardest highest doth rebound but to doe ill that good thereof might rise Is Ill so ill as may the Soule confound then all that good in Soule-confounding lies To sinne of purpose but to make vs meeke augments the fault for t is presumptuous Sinne And who by Error Heau'nly Truth shall seeke shall lose her quite and Hell with Error winne Then Lord of Truth when I haue tane a fall let me desire to rise to fall no more So though thou bandy me from wall to wall yet keepe me vp at least with beating sore And if by weakenesse I shall sometimes slippe so stay me then that downe I fall not quite Let me at most if so at least but trippe then take the faster footing through thy might So shall I praise that Pow'r that stayes me so And euer ouercome an Ouerthrow THE DOLEFVLL DOVE OR Dauids 7. Penitentiall Psalmes somewhere paraphrastically turned into Verse Domine ne in furore Psal. 6. When Dauid by his sinnes had prouoked Gods wrath and now felt not onely his hand against him but also conceiueth the horrors of death euerlasting he desireth fornesse bewailing that if God tooke him away in his indignation he shall lacke occasion to praise him as hee was wont to doe whiles he was among men Then sodainely feeling Gods mercie he sharply rebuketh his enemies which reioyced in his affliction IN thy iust rage deare Lord reproue me not for iust it is sith so vniust I am Nor chasten me when thy fierce Wrath is hot lest I should be extinguisht yer the Flame Let thy strong Grace against my Weaknesse stand thy Grace so strong as it vpholdeth All And heale me Lord with thine all-helping Hand for eu'n my bones are bruised with my fall My Soule 's afflicted more then griefes afflict for griefes but pine but this doth quite vndoe Then Lord how long shall I a poore Relict endure these plagues that paine and pine me too O turne thy now auerted Face to mee to me that fades as flowres for want of Sunne And let my Soule be safe and sau'd by thee through Grace that hath to thee most glory wonne For Deaths fell torments are so violent that they constraine the Sense to minde but them Who then in Hell through hellish discontent can once but minde thee in such paines extreame My sorrow hath my Soule so ouer-fed that it conuerts mine Eyes to founts of Teares For eu'ry night in teares I rince my Bed and drowne my Couch in streames of griefes feares Mine Eyes are so o'ercast with clouds of Cares that they see nought but through those Water-streames My beauty 's gone while I away do weare among my Foes and these confus'd extreames But yet I feele thy Grace Lord worke with me then leaue me leaue me yee too idle Crue That yet still worke but worke iniquitie for God hath seene my Teares and heard me rue You are my Foes that yet would seeme my friends but Foe-like friends and all mine enemies God will cut off by diuers fearefull ends and soone confound you and your Trecheries To God the Father Sonne and Holy Ghost three Persons and one God all glory be As it was is and shall be in each Coast thoughout all worlds in all eternitie Beati quorum Psal. 32. Dauid punished with grieuous sicknesse for his sins counteth them blessed to whom God doth not impute their transgressions And after that he had confessed his sins and obtained pardon he exhorteth the wicked men to liue godly and the good to reioyce MOst blest are they how euer curst they be whose Crimes out of
too good made me too bad For they made me too proud and too too bold The rage of Lyons Tygers and the like Is lenified with gifts and turn'd to loue But with thy gifts to grieue thee I did seeke Yet still thou mad'st me their increase to proue Thou Man becam'st to make a God of mee at least a God that Heau'n and Earth doe serue And I became a Diuell in Deed to Thee that wrong'd thee more the more thou didst deserue High'st Iustice shining through thy Passions Cloud could not enforce me it to loue or dread Thou had'st no hole wherein thy head to shroud but all this All 's too little for my head Though thou art God Foes Fists thy face enorme if any touch my Coate I touch them home By word and deed that yet am but a Worme thou striu'st for lowest I for highest Roome Thou wouldst be slaine to slaughter Sinne in me but by thy death I life-inspir'd the same So thy great Mercy made me martyr Thee and with the Iewes I made thy griefes my game The Med'cine so thou gau'st to cure my Wounds I venomed to make my hurt the more Which both with Sinne shame my Soule confounds sith Sinne by Grace I made more sinfull sore If from the Law to take a cause to sinne is much more damn'd then sinne without the Law What is it then when Grace so vs'd hath bin and force to fight with Grace from grace to draw The wilde-fire of my Passions burned me my Thoughts Distractions did me quite deuide The Worme of Conscience rag'd where thou wouldst be yet these I did as one in thee abide For mine Affections cryed nought but Peace when those Affections most did Peace impunge And when I was in Hell they seem'd in ease so much the old misled Affections young And Fury-like towards hel I alwayes made but thou more wayes then all wayes broughtst me back The Trade of Vertue I held Vices Trade sith more then Vice she seem'd to liue in lacke How oft haue I beene at the gates of Hell and could not enter though I went about Thou didst the Diuell from his charge compell so Porter wast thy selfe to keepe me out Nay when I haue beene euen in his Iawes and that his Fangs were entring in my Soule Till thou didst pul me thence thou mad'st him pause so came I as from Heau'n as Meeke as Whole O! how can I such pow'rfull Grace requite that forceth Iustice with Her force to ioyne From wracke to saue me in mine owne despight and made restore who did my selfe purloyne Had I the liues of Angels and of Men and offer'd all to thee in sacrifice And if those liues were thrice resum'd agen and offer'd vp as oft t' would not suffice T' would not suffice to recompâ—â—ce thy loue it were too cheape to quite tâ—y deare deserâ— O then can I wretch so vngratefull proue as not to giue thee one poore wretched Heart Can I ô can I be so much besides Grace Faith Sense Mother-wit my selfe and all That hauing yet these gifts to be my guides doe yet but stand by these by these to fall If I be lost it must not be in Hell thogh ne'er so dark for there thou foundst me out It must be somewhere which no where can tell for where that is both Time and Place doe doubt It cannot be in Hell for thou art there then Heau'ns thy Seat ah would I there were lost Nay not in Place for thou art eu'ry where Then not in Time which ere It was thou knowst If then in Heau'n nor Hell in Time nor Place where then in my selfe lost I cannot be Yet lost I am if I doe lose thy grace which found me when I stole my selfe from thee But yet if needes I will be lost at last for grace at last saues none against their will No Lost-child euer was lockt halfe so fast from losing and deserueth halfe so ill The worst of Ill mâ—â—e worse with Ill made Whole is too too good for one made worse then That Too little he doth lose to lose his Soule that maugre grace still does he cares not what Therefore deare Lord let me not enter in this strict reuisall of my Sinne and grace The lesse to make excusable my Sinne but thereby more much more thy Loue embrace For these Confessions written by my Hand against my selfe against my selfe will goe To thy Tribunall and against me stand if now I doe not euer Sinne forgoe Then let thy Wâ—unds be once more opened deare Christ to wash me in thy reeking bloud Reuiue me by thy death that being dead still dead to Ill I may still liue to good O! iuycie Bunch of Soule-refreshing grapes hard pressed in the Wine-presse of the Crosse Make druncke my thirstie Soule that gasping gapes for thy pure bloud to purge mine being too grosse Mine Ire Pride Lust Presumption Hate and Scorne yea all my Sinnes which I can ne'er recite I cast into thy wounds which wide are torne O keepe them There then from thy Fathers sight As much as those confound these comfort me nay more much more sith more thou canst forgiue Then I can sinne although I quartred Thee if when the deed is done through grace I grieue Mellefluous Sea of Comforts most diuine Meridian Light whence springs true glories Day With both o'er whelme me till through both I shine in perfect glory by thy glories Ray. Let not my Deedes or inofficious Sloth doe or omit what should not or be done For both are cursed by thy blessed mouth sith Ill to doe and good omit is one But let this league be constant to the end For they but mend to marre that marre to mend And Wisedome at our wisedome doth but scoffe When we doe ill that good may come thereof The sighes of a Pensiue Soule groaning vnder the burden of sinne WHo art thou Lord thou Lord whose magnitude admits no Name and what or who am I That dare but thinke of such an Altitude farre past the reach of highest Angels Eye What am I but a Sacke of sickenesses Immodestie it selfe Dust Clay Durt Dung Slyme Food for Wormes lesse slymie Carkasses with filth much more vncleanly mixt among Meere gall of bitternesse true Heyre of Hell begot twixt Sinne and Sathan life of Death Rebellion in the abstract Vices Shell the breath of Sinne that baneth but with breath Gods griefe Mens plague and Angels sole annoy sith sad I make them by vncessant sinne Let to the sorrow which doth cause their Ioy sith mine example hinders some therein In Counsaile blinde in Actions most vnwise In thought vnstaid vnconstant in desire Then Nothing lesse yet great in mine owne Eyes for past my selfe my selfe would faine aspire In summe I am the totall summe of Ill ill in my flesh and euill in my sp'rit Worse in my Wit and worser in my Will this Lord is hee thou would'st to thee vnite But what and who art thou thou namelesse GREAT sith
art Thou that suffer'st for mans sake O tell me for I will diuulge thy Word that all things made men marred to re-marke First for thy selfe with what rich tearmes of Art shall I expresse Thee inexpressable I le say as thou said'st Thou art what Thou art because Thou know'st Thou wert ineffable Thou art a BEEING more then infinite and being of thy selfe proceed'st of none Without thee can no being chance to light for Chance and being light by Thee alone Thy matchlesse pow'r of nothing all things made thy Goodnesse saues all without other aide And if thou wouldst to nothing They should fade for in for and by thee they all are staid Thou onely art that art and nothing is besides thee in comparison of thee The Lamps of Heau'n their light before thee misse whose brightnesse bright'st Eyes are blinde to see All beautie 's Foulenesse Pow'r infirmitie Wisedome Grosse Folly Goodnesse worse then nought Weigh'd with thy more then All sufficiencie more faire strong wise and good then can be thought More then most faire sith selfe Formositie and more then pow'rfull sith Omnipotent Much more then Wisedome sith her Soules right eye exceeding Goodnesse sith her Continent Yea good thou art both to the good and bad for good and bad sucke sweetnesse still from thee With good gifts good Soules thou dost ouer-lade and good'st the bad to make them better be Without distraction thou dost all in All Thou All contain'st yet art in eu'ry place And yet art all alike in great and small yet here then there much greater by thy Grace Thou euer work'st yet euer art at rest resting in endlesse dooing thy good Will Thou all vphold'st and yet art not supprest th' art Good alone and yet thou suffer'st ill Thou Cause of Causes art yet caused art to punish sinne yet didst for sinners die Thou art impassible yet sufferd'st smart lower then Hell yet more then Heau'n hie What shall I say of thy dread Maiestie Thou Earth behold'st and It doth trembling stand Touch but the Mountaines and they smoke thereby then Seas and Windes doe rest at thy command The Sunne with gloomy Clouds enueloped doth hide his head wheÌ„ thou his head dost frown The Moone and Stars with Cloud-cloakes couered in their confusion sham'd doe then lye downe Thou spread'st the Heau'ns marchest on the deepe whilst her deepe Base yeelds dreadfull harmonie Thou mak'st the Spheares both Time Tune to keep maugre their Discords and varietie Thou call'st the Stars by name who come at call and like true Sentinols keepe well their watch Hiperion that guides the Capitall to thee subordinate doth key their Catch Thou anglest for the huge Leuiathan and throgh his Nostrils mak'st thy Hooke appeare Which being hang'd thou playest with him than as with a Fish that hangs but by an Haire Hell quakes when thou dost volly forth thy voice which Bandies Earth as t were a Racket Batt The Heau'ns shall melt and passe away with noise when thou thy Creatures to account shalt call Vpon the Necks of Monarchs thou dost treade and pau'st the Pauement with their Diadems The dreadfull Pow'rs of thy Pow'r stand in dread and Glory it selfe is blinded by thy Beames The Seraphins though glitt'ring-glorious Sp'rits in thy bright presence seeme but Butterflies Thou rid'st vpon the Cherubins whose sights thy Beautie blinds with rates that thence arise To thee the Gates of Death lye open wide which on their Hinges play as thou dost will Nay Death himself doth quake wheÌ„ thou dost chide as if it would his Soule immortall kill The Heau'ns declare thy glory Fire thy brightnesse the Aire thy subtiletie the Sea thy Dread The flowers of the Field thy Beauties brightnesse thus all in All thy praise abroad doe spread Such and so great such and so great quoth I nay Lord much more then such or so Thou art For Words defectiue are so needs must lye but thou Lord art deficient in no part And now let me recount the wretched wronges which so great Maiestie hath borne for mee And whiles I count let Men and Angels Tongues sound endlesse Peales of Praises vnto Thee Who being so sublime in dignitie did'st from the height of Maiestie descend Into this vale of deepest miserie and cloath'd thee with my flesh the same to mend Wherein thou suffer'dst for my sinfull sake Hunger and Thirst in famishing excesse With Plagues and Persecutions which did make to seeme accursed thy true blessednesse The Passions of the Aire thou did'st abide as Prologus to thy PASSIONS Tragedie For Heate and cold thy Body damnifide as needs they must that hadst no where to lye Whose Pouerty was such that Birds and Beasts were much more rich that Neasts Holes enjoy'd But thou deare Lord hadst neither Holes nor neasts nor ought besides wherein thy Head to hide Borne in a Stable Cradel'd in a Cratch begging the breath of beasts to keepe thee warme Wrapped in Rags that coursest Clouts did patch which did thy tender flesh lesse warme then harme O sight of force to wonder-rap all Eyes Yee Angels all admire this Noueltie For lo your Lord in base Rags wrapped lyes to shew the riches of Humilitie And eight dayes after took'st a Sinners Marke that cam'st indeed to abrogate the same Soone after wast constrain'd to vse the Darke to hide thy Flight that fledd'st to hide thy Fame Therefore thou sought'st the silence of the Night to be the Triton of thy Lowlinesse Yet now the World began thy Fame to spight and in the rise did seeke It to suppresse Herod thy Hunter like a Bloud-hound fell did hunt for Thee that He on Thee might pray For what thou wert he by and by did smell and hunted after Thee a likely way But to a Nation most Idolatrous thou wast constraind from his pâ—rsuite to flye So Innocencie Life preserued thus for which deare Innocents were forc'd to dye Then Innocencie Innocencie slew how then could It therein be innocent For both are innocent yet both is true the first in deede the other in euent They lost their bloud for Him He his for Them so both did bleede and for each other bled And both as Innocents their blouds did streame He as their Head They Members of that Head O! had I beene so blest ere Sinne I knew t' haue di'd for thee among those Innocents Or that I could my sinnes to death pursue or make them liue like banish'd male-contents Then would I dye for thee an Innocent if curst Herodian hands would blesse me so O let me trie this deare Experiment although it cost my Heart-bloud erâ— I goe For when before my Mindes Eye thou dost come in all thy Passions my desire doth melt My very Marrow to taste Martyrdome and Sense feeles paine till it such paines hath felt It may be that I doe but now desire to doe that then I may desire to flye For he that was thy bodyes hardiest Squire so thought and said but did It then deny Flesh is a
nothing more then sinne Lord help me in this strange extremitie of crosse desires which in my Soule are found My Will is bound to Sinne but would be free then if it would how should my Will be bound Were it my Flesh alone desir'd to sinne my Soule resisting t' were not so amisse Such crosse desires in thy best Saints haue bin but in my Soule my Sinne conceiued is And yet shee 's barraine gauly and impure of emptinesse not emptie and thereby A soulelesse Soule so lifelesse doth endure yet liues in Death because she cannot dye Then empt mine empty Soule for Sinne doth fill with nought but vacuum her capatious thought For Sinne is nothing sith thou mad'st not Ill without whom nought was made then empt this nought For t is that Law though nought that still rebels against both grace and natures Gouernment This lawlesse Law my members still compels to bowe as Sinnes vnrighteous Rule is bent Lord I beleeue yet help mine vnbeliefe and well doe will yet better my desire Cure thou the Wound my Will receiu'd in chiefe through Adams Fall and make our Wils entire Giue me both Will and Pow'r to doe thy Will and let me neither haue to crosse the same For when I see my Will would thine fulfill yet doth it not I pine with griefe and shame I cannot will aright but right resist without thy grace preuent my crooked will And willing well without thy grace assist I cannot for my bloud my will fulfill So thy preuenting and assisting grace makes my Will worke for of my selfe I am So fraile by nature and so beastly base that my best thoghts are more then much too blame Then let thy Grace my wayward Will preuent and helpe me to performe it so preuented Yea make my thoughts and deedes most innocent else let me ioy in nought but them lamented Nay make my Heart deare Lord so apt to waile That it may weepe when I to weepe doe faile The Sinner desireth not to be as he is but as he ought to be TO be all nought is nought at all to be and to be sinfull still is to be nought Yet Sinners ARE though dead in sinne we see as Men ARE though they are not as thy ought Deliuer me deare Lord from being such such being take from me that sinfull is For better nothing be then be so much because so much is more then most amisse Then let me be not as I am but what I ought to Be or take me as I am Take me to Thee and then I will be that I ought to be thine owne in Deed and Name For then I am when I am wholy thine But I am not while I am Sinnes or Mine In respect of the breuitie and vncertaintie of mortall life the Sinner desires grace in time to prepare for Death MY stupid Soule now recollect thy pow'rs weigh in Iudgements Scales thy present state Thou in thy Iaile my Flesh but some few howres hast now to stay by nature neere her date My Pilgrimage is almost past ô then it thee behooues to looke with stedfast eyes Towards thy Countrey Home of Happy-men least ere thou looke in straying pathes thou dye Now faints my force my sense impaires my flesh like wither'd fruit now falleth with each breath Some Birds o'er-aged doe their youth refresh but Man growne Twâ—-childe is at doore of death The Young-man may dye quickely but the Olde can not liue long misse-haps may wracke the one But nought in Arte or Nature long can hold the other here for they are almost gone Then if green yeers should somtimes mind the graue the Gray must still that there are with a breath For Age to Death is but the Gally-slaue that on a moments fluxe whafts life to death To serue the World although I able were small cause haue I to will it sith it is The ground which nought but ranckest Ils doth beare and where men most esteemed are most amisse I long haue cultur'd this but flinty-field which yeelds but Crops of Cares Woes wrongs and spight Yeelding the more annoy the more they yeeld whose very Ioyes are Tares that pine the Spright Then it is time to change by heauenly Arte the thriftlesse course of so course Husbandry And with Remorse to furrow vp my Heart melting the Clods with teares that are too dry And so to sow Loues seedes that faire encrease to fat the Soule in vertue till shee melt In flames of Charitie till Faith doth cease to giue more taste of heauenly pleasures selt And sith my Spring is spent my Summer past and to the Fall of leafe my Tyme arriues Nay sith his frost Time on my Head hath cast I must prepare for cold that life depriues My negligence hath made sinnes Earth my Heart to yeeld but poysonous Weeds of thoughts impure Which doe but bane my Soule and get the start of Vertue in their growth by Customes pow'r Meane while my flesh with heat of youth bloud hath shrunke from cherishing their root yet lo The Marrow of my Bones doth yeeld them foode so thogh I shrink they through that compost grow And as one tost at Sea with Stormes and feares makes little way though much he be turmoild So he in vice that past hath many yeeres hath had long time but life as short as soild For Life is measur'd by the good we doe not dayes we spend sith some by many dayes Get many Deaths as some haue come vnto Eternall Life by short Life spent with praise What is a Soulelesse Body but a Clod and what 's the Soule without her cause and life But quicke to Sinne and dead to Grace and God Hell to it selfe selfe-Hell or Hell of strife He is the Way besides which all are wide the Truth against which all in errour dwell The Life without which all in death abide in whom to be is onely to be well O then deare Lord let me beginne to liue now in my dying though hard late it be Yet better late then neuer to reuiue me dead in sinne by mortifying me It 's hard I grant that after life's neere spent in mortall Sinne immortall life t' expect Yet Lord how euer late let me repent while Aire I breathe and doe it not reiect Yet Loue must cause remorse and hate of Sinne for true contrition which true life dorh giue Is caus'd by Loue sith we so bad haue beene t' a God so good that di'd to make vs liue Then loue my Soule for no ends but thine END By-purposes are purposelesse for ONE That knowes all Hearts Remorse doth but offend that is not for his Loue conceiu'd alone Then to be truely contrite hard it is sith it respects but Loue that Grace allures Whereof in but a scruple if we misse it 's but Attrition which lesse Grace procures O Death how sowre is thy rememberance to him whose Soule is swolne with sweetest Sinne And hath thereof a feeling I perchance haue so in shew but more
much more within My Lifes-bud blasted was with heate of bloud the Flow'r then needs must fade and Fruit decay Nay leaues and Branch haue perisht with the Bud and now the Truncke is turning into Clay Lord how shall I thus soild with Sinne for shame appeare before thy Glory I alas Am but Confusion euer out of frame and was at best ere fully fram'd I was The least of all my Sinnes will be at least a most seuere Accuser but the whole Equall to that which thou dost most detest with but a thought confounds my thoughtfull Soule O Christ thy Wounds renued by my Sinne still bleed to my Confusion for I faint At that which others still are strength'ned in so thy all-sauing bloud doth me but taint Sweete Christ yet be my Iesus though I be thus quite o'er-whelm'd with sins coÌ„founding floud And in thy bloud I shed still rince thou me vntill thine Ire be quenched in thy bloud Yea in thy Wounds as Ionas in the Whale saue me from drowning in thy doomes-profound Let Mercies Beames my filth of sinne exhale and it dispieese that it no more be found So shall I cast on Safeties Shore by thee Still praise thy Grace for so securing me The carefull Soule because of the momentany condition of transitory life desireth to wash away the filth of sin with the teares of continuall penitencie SIth on this moment of fraile Life depends th' eternall weale or woe of humane Breede And that no meanes can long deferre their ends let Teares still feede me Lord till Wormes I feede For Teares for Sin doth Sin through grace destroy so kill their Cause whereon who feeds shall liue Where they that sow in teares shall reape in ioy then let my Teares me dead in Sinne reuiue They were they foode ô Christ that couldst not sin and yet for others sinne still weptst then I That liue a life that 's quite o'erwhelm'd therein had need to weepe till drown'd in teares I dye Happy that Soule that on a Sea of Teares sailes in Faiths Ship by Hopes securest Cape Vnto the Port of Peace and with her beares Good-workes that make the Worker wracke escape This World 's but Sorrowes Sea whereon mankinde is tost with Stormes of Troubles that arise By Enuy Malice or Faâ—es wayward winde whiles Life to Death more swift then Swallow flies If in the way a Calme the Course prolongs it holds vs but to griefe resembling Ioy While Pleasure with her charming Syren-Songs o'erwhelme vs in the end in deep'st annoy Twixt Silla and Charibdâ—s Ioy and Griefes fraile life still floates and wrackes in Eyther oft Which equally to Death betrayeth Life but low estate lesse sinckes then that aloft Why should we then prize worldly things so much which haue no good but as they vs respect And lightly weigh those Treasures without which we haue no Goodnesse but are meere Defect Honor and Pow'r Health Beauty Strength and Wit are but as Smoake that comes from troubled fire The more it growes the lesse continues it and comes to nought whan â—t doth high'st aspire To be in Princes grace which all desires procures but Pride which blindes our Iudgements sight While like a siled Doue we Lord aspire till sou'raigne heate at height doth sinke vs quite Then t is in vaine to trust in Princes grace which pleasure or their profit may procure And when these faile they streight auert their Face but Lord thy Grace is euer free as sure Then let me wholy on thy Grace depend yet so as still I worke it to encrease So it with me shall worke too to the end and at the end with me shall rest in Peace To which deare Lord vouehsafe thy Grace may goe With my toil'd Soule that cannot rest but so A short Meditation of the breuitie of life with an Incitation to make good vse of the present time WOldst thou be spurr'd to run the way of truth then see how time doth run with thee away Youth comes on Childhood Man-hood comes on Youth on Man-hood Ages and Age at Death doth stay So Time ascends and descends with such haste vpon the Scale of Lifes-gradation That liu'd we but to mend our misses past yet death would cease our work ere halfe were done Time-past is gone in it we cannot mend Time-future is vncertaine then therein We are vnsure our ill bents to vnbend the Present-time is ours to cease to sinne Yet that Time ceaseth while we thinke thereon Then if we mend not now now Time is gone A short meditation of Mans Miserie WHat was I am I or what shall I be I was nought am nought and for ought I do Shall be farre worse then nought ô wretched me why was I borne for nought and worser too This makes me to deplore my Day of Birth sith I was borne to so hard exigent As all men doe that doe enioy the Earth yet so enioy it as th' are ne'er content We hold that Infant but a Prodigie that in his Birth doth not the World salute With note of Present-future misery for that 's his Birth-right cleare and absolute In Sinne Originall was I conceiu'd in actuall Sinne I liue and I may taste Eternall paine for that I first receiu'd with that I liue in now and that is past I in the Wombe was loathsome in the World a Sacke of all Corruption in the Graue A Prey of Vermine and may thence be hurl'd to Hell if what Sinne spoyles Grace doe not saue When I was nothing then was I without Hope to be sau'd or Feare condemn'd to be Now of the first I hope but more doe doubt and of the last stand still in ieopardie I was such as I could not then be damn'd but now am such as hardly can be sau'd For at the first I was in cleannesse fram'd but now by me its more then most deprau'd Erect deare Lord my pristrine Puritie correct my present Vices and direct My future steps direct them Sinne to flye and to attaine the Grace of thine Elect So shall I praise thy Name with them and say Blessed be HIM that so inspir'd my Clay That our Saluation comes from God LOrd thou hast said thou mad'st not death theÌ„ let that which thou mad'st not neuer signiorize O'er me that thou hast made but Watches set to keepe death from me when from Death I rise If thou be sory for my Death then who shall let thy Ioy in giuing life to me If thou wilt thou canst saue me I not so I can but dye vnlesse I liue by Thee For I can will but can performe no good nor yet will good without my Will thou moue In thy good-will then lies my liuelihood and yet thou bidst me labour for thy Loue But Lord I cannot if thou help me not that 's make me willing and worke with me too Nor can I moue a Man but I must blot without thee so my Pow'r's but to vndoe For I would sometimes that I can but then I know not
bee 't violent quicke or slow A Saint as Man may seare and faint in death As Christ did dying yer he yeelded Breath Let this Cup passe was Terrours proper voyce yet vtter'd by our Sauiours sacred Tongue Our flesh he tooke annoi'd did make that noise fore-feeling it should be with Torments stunge My God my God why hast forsaken me vnto our Flesh intirely did belong Then may true Martyrs in Death drouping be With sense of pain but God that gaue them strength To stand to him through him preuailes at length For t is not hard when Gods soft comforts cheere our Soule to suffer torments to endure But when such fauours are turn'd all to feare and in distresse of Minde to hold vs sure To God and for him all annoyes to beare that is a Miracle perform'd by Grace Past Natures best performance and is deere Vnto the Doner then who doth the same Goes straight to glory through Afflictions flameâ— For Works of Iustice we should rather doe than those of Grace now Iustice wils that we In Truths defence should dye with torment too though Grace to vs a stranger seeme to be Obedience farre excelleth Sacrifice the first is duty in the high'st degree The other in our Wils Deuotion lies Then courage in our Death is no true Signe Of life else-where without the Cause diuine For through Vaine-glory some in Death haue seem'd as brauely resolute as Saints haue bin Nay oft the first haue beene the better deem'd by outward-sight that seeth nought within Leaena being but a Curtezanâ— tyring her Tortures though she dide for sinne Spat out her Tongue that to accuse beganne And many more of like sure so haue dide Then by braue dy'ing plain Truth 's not iustifide But dye they how they can that dye for Truth they stoutly dye sith they dye willingly But much more they that dye in sportfull youth though Deaths ougliest face may daunt their eye When they behold him yet if they endure that feare and paine which after they must try They stoutly dye though saint be all their pow'r Nay more they doe sith they so little can Flesh is but mire the Minde doth make the Man But see what ends the Tyrants erst haue made that of Gods Saints made ceaselesse Butchery Nero the chiefe that first did them inuade in his owne bloud his murdring hands did dye And while he bled his last he crying said Foulely I liu'd and dye more filthily Thus for his paines in paining he was paide Domitian by his Seruants being slaine For doing like the like reward did gaine Fell Maximinus with his Sonnes was brought to selfe same issue Decius with his Frye Incurr'd the like Valerianus caught by him that swaid the Persian Monarchy Was cag'd in Iron more fast then Lyons are who in the end being flaid dide wretchedly But Dioclesian worst of all did fare For he fell mad â—o made himselfe away While fire from Heau'n his House did leuell lay So of the like in life and their Degrees Iâ— might count many dire and awfull deaths All dranke Gods vengeance Vials to the lees in their bloud o'erwhelm'd they lost their breaths For God vnstings such angry Waspes and Bees sith each their Stings in Saints too often sheathes God burnes his Rods when he hath paid his fees Yet Stings of spight in th' Head of Pow'r with wit Can sting the World to death if Heau'n permit But howsoe'r th' Almighty throwes his Rods into the fire when he his Ire doth cease Yet oft the scurged fall to greater ods with Goodnesse than before The Churches peace Makes her more loose then when shee 's bound to fight vncessantly with foes that her disease For they liue wrong that rest to much in Right Mettall though Siluer resting long vnscowr'd Will canker or with filth be quite obscur'd For ah this Witch the World with pleasing charmes so lullabies our Sense in soft delights That though we be vpon our guard in armes yet we are taken in our Appetites And made to serue the Diuell and our Flesh in strictest Bondage while their Parasits Sinne-soothing Pleasures doe our Sense refresh To serue them with the more alacritie So â—lee le ts Grace our Sense to mortifie A Parable Wee ' are like a Man chast by a raged Bull who in his flight into a Well doâ—h fall And in the fall by chance he lighteth full vpon a Tree that there growes in the Wall And resting there there sets his Soules delight but looking better on the place withall He spies two Mice one blacke the other White Who still the Roote of this his rest doe gnaw And more and more asunder it doe saw Then vnderneath he lookes and there espies a gaping Dragon threatning to deuoure him And at his feete foure striuing Serpents rise yet looking vp he spies what doth allure him And makes him deeme he is from dangers free a little Honie which he euer tryes Cleaues to a branch of that vntrusty Tree For which these dangers he neglects and still That Hony sicks yet ne'er can licke his fill The Morall The Bull is Death the World the Well the Tree our time of life the white Mowse and the blacke The Day and night the striuing Adders be the Elements that striue vs still to wracke The Diuell the Dragon and the Honie is our whitest Pleasures that are lin'd with blacke And blacke within for losse of Glories Blisse Who therefore would not deeme that man were mad That in such dreadfull dangers can be glad What comfort can we haue then in a place that 's by the Prince of darknesse gouerned Where eu'ry thing is in a cursed case and by Gods foes and good-mens peopled Where Paines be riâ—e extreame and infinite but Pleasures few and false fraile dull and dead Which at the best at least doe vexe the sp'rit Where Plentie's full of perill Want of woes And in a word where all that ill is flowes Then cast we off these pleasures that but cast a mist before our Eyes and mocke our Sense But let vs hugge those paines and hold them fast that bring eternall ioyes for recompence Now if this Potion worke not in sicke-mindes at point of death is their Intelligence Nay Death the pow'r of all their forces bindes In few Great things by greatest mindes are sought The small but seeke for shades the shels of Nought To attaine a quiet Life WHo would in quiet spend his life must shunne the Cause of strifes Effect And yet with Vice still liue in strife so Strife retaine and it reiect 1 Hold no Conceit 'gainst that Conceit the King maintaines vnlesse it be Against that Faith whose forme and waight with TRVTH well tride doth still agree 2 Finde neuer Fault but when the same concernes the Honor of the High'st Or else the Kings to heare whose blame is blame which oft to Death is nigh'st 3 No Wager lay for that but stirres the Losers heart to hate and ire Which oft enflameth Ciuill-warres