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A56856 Gods love and mans unworthiness whereunto is annexed a discourse between the soul & Satan : with several divine ejaculations / written by John Quarles. Quarles, John, 1624-1665. 1651 (1651) Wing Q131; ESTC R11088 57,957 174

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with fire and name Himself I AM and make a bush to flame Without consuming He that can convert A Rod into a Serpent and not hurt He that can make his visage shine so bright That not a Moses can behold the light He that can strike a hand with leprosie And cure it in the twinkling of an eye He that can in a moment cut and break Tongue tying cords and make the dumb to speak He that can out of unregarded stones Raise unto Abraham many little ones He that can heal the Cripple with a touch And free him from the thraldom of his Crouch He that can cure the deaf and can expel A thousand Devils in despite of Hell He that can perfect what he first begun Expects that man should say Thy will be done Consider Man and thou shalt find it true 〈…〉 can do all but what he will not do Think not because thou art of low estate That he will scorn to love and love to hate Remember Dives whose unsum'd up store Improv'd so much until he prov'd as poor As ever Iob was Iob unhappy I To speak it he was rich in poverty Hea●'n made poor Iob so rich that Satans wealth ●●uld purcha●● nothing from him but his health And that corporeal too he could not boast His bargain for 't was Iob that purchas'd most Happy is he that can at last inherit Riches obtain'd by an impov'rish'd spirit We 'd better lick with Lazarus the crumbs Then gripe with Dives for Soul-damning sums Welth cānot bride the flames yet scraps may feed The hungry wretch he that has wealth may need The crumbs of comfort David did condole Th' abundant famine of his hungry Soul Gods Love 's not mercenary to be sold For brain-distracting heart-confounding gold Hast thou not heard O Man the heav'nly cry Of him that says Ye that are poor come buy Come buy of me your pen'worth shall be such That for a little you shall purchase much Here 's Love that 's spun unto the smallest thred Tho thou want'st mony yet thou ma●● have bred Do thou but ask thou shalt not fail to have For God's more free to give then thou to crave Fear not to ask of him whose ready ear Before thy tongue can ask is apt to hear Heav'n loves the language of a broken heart And he will harken and with joy impart His love unto thee and his milk and wine Without the price of mony shall be thine Th' ingrated pris'ner whose dull tongue is whet With sharp'ned hunger will not fear to let His language fly to every ear that comes Within his audience and he always sums The totals of his grief in hungry words Whilst thousands pass along but few affords The blessing of an Alms perhaps they 'l grieve And seem to pity but will not relieve Yet will he not desist but hourly cry Bread bread for Heav'ns sake bread or else I dye Hard hearred Man why wilt thou not relent To hear thy brother almost hunger spent Craving thy succour Where 's thy love become Because th' art deaf ah woldst thou have him dūb Or dost thou think because thy panch is fill'd He cannot hunger He that first distill'd Those mercies on thy head expects that thou Shouldst feed thy brother with a cheerful brow Say not thou canst not give thy treasure 's light But let thy heart record the widows mite So H●a●'n will fill thy Cisterns to the brim And feed thy Soul because thou hast fed him Should the Grandfather of true Charity Pass by thy gates and here thee beg and cry And not relieve thee should he slight thy prayrs And scorn to take a survey of thy tears Wouldst thou not grieve and pine thy self to dust And almost say thy God was much unjust To turn away his ears from thy complaint And disrespect thy pray'rs and let thee ●aint For want of ●o●d Ah whither wouldst thou ●ly To feed thy famish'd Soul should Heav'n deny But ah he cannot for his melting Soul Is always free and willing to condole The sad conditions of distressed Man Who only strives to do but what he can To contradict him yet he 'l hear our grief In multitudes of mercy lies relief When our impris'ned Souls peep through the Of this corrupting Earth our God delates Himself unto us and he sends us meat From the rich store-house of his lofty Seat He hears and hearing pities pitying sends And sending blesses and with blessing ends Even as the Sun which every day surrounds The sublime Globe and pries into the bounds Of this darke Center lets his Beams reflect Upon a molehill with as much respect As on a Mountain for his glorious Beams Shine always with equivolent extreams Even so the great and powerful three in one That sits upon his all-inlight'ning Throne Does not deny to let his mercies crown The poorest Peasant with as much renown As the most stateliest Emperor though he Invests his body with more dignitie Yet he 's but earth and must at last decay For Prince and Peasant go the self-same way Their earth must turn to earth their Souls return To him that gave them or for ever burn There 's no distinction one infused breath Made them alike and both must live in death Or everlasting life both must commence Divines in Heav'n there 's no preheminence But all equality all must express With equal Joy their equal Happiness Rouze up dull Man and let thy wak'ned Soul Be vigilant oh let thy thoughts enroul The Love of God engrave it in thy brest That his resounding tongue may read thee blest O let thy sighs like Pens and let thy tears Like Ink transcribe the Love th' indulgent cares Of thy Creator that himself may find Within the unblotted volume of thy mind Himself recorded so will he imbrace Thy spotless Soul and fill thee with his grace Incl●●● thine cars and let thy heart rejoyce To ●ear the strains of his harmonious voyce Harken and thou shalt hear his Prophets sing Th' admired Mercies of thy glorious King Thus saith the great and ever-living One That rules the Heav'ns and governs Earth alone Thus saith the Lord that takes delight to dwell Amongst his Saints that formed Israel Created Iacob Let thy sorrows slee Out of thy brest I have redeemed thee 'T was I that made thy clouded visage shine And call'd thee by my Name for thou are mine I will be with thee when thy feet shall wade Thorow the waters I will be thy aid I 'le make thee walk thorow rivers and the waves Shall prove ambitious to become thy slaves And when thou walkest thorow the raging fire Th' unruly flames shall not presume to aspire Or kindle on thy garments I alone The Lord thy God and Israels holy one And thy dear Saviour that was always true Gave Egypt Seba and Ethiopia too To ransom thee for thou wert my delight And always precious in my gracious sight Honors were heap'd upon thee and
friend But my Religion tutors me to say Nay and affirm You neither can nor may I 'm sure it is if Reason dare prove true One thing to speak another thing to do Your words are airy messengers which fly Into my ears and there enroul a lye Many untruths have broke the Common Goal Of thy foul mouth thou sayst thou canst prevail To make me glorious and thou canst encrease My Joys and crown me with eternal Peace Thou sayst th' art good and great that thy paths Lead to Salvation thou declarest thy Laws To be most just If all these things be ●●ue I needs must call the Scriptures false or you Truth bids me tell thee boldly when thou cry'st Th' art great and good and rich and rare thou ly'st If thou art good and great pray tell me why Thou wilt behold so vile a wretch as I These things bespeak thee humble unto which Thou plead'st not guilty and if thou art rich How can it be that thou wilt condescend To feed my wants that am so poor a friend Strange is that charity which seems to shine From such a ●iabolick brest as thine If my belief could keep an equal pace With thy swift tongue how full of Faith Grace Should I appear Such Faith as would devast My wanton Soul and make me weep as fast It is impossible to find a Sion That has no Governor except a Lyon The Souls Petition to God Oh Heav'n I crave that thou wouldst keep me still From this most ●ile Progenitor of Ill Suffer him no● t' infold me in his arms ●r overcome me with his wanton charms Oh make my heart obdure that he may knock Upon my Soul as on a Marble Rock Be thou my Fort and then I shall endure His furious on-sets and repose secure Give me thy grace that I may be content Make me as strong as he is impudent Now let the spring-tyde of thy fierce desires Flow to the height thou shalt not quench my ●●●● Know Satan know my heart reserves no place For thy abode I scorn thee to thy face The well-dy'd colours of my Soul declares Defiance to thee and my brest prepares To give thee battel strike I fear thee not Whose arm'd with Faith needs fear no Canon-shot What impious tongue is that which dares defie Sat. My power with so much boldness So. Wretch 't is I 'T is I infernal Traytor that will spend My strength to prove thou art a flatt'ring friend Sat. Move me to anger do and thou shalt find A courteous friend at last may prove unkind Have I not woo'd thee almost night and day To go to Heaven Sou. The quite contrary way Sat. Have I not labour'd like a watchful father To nourish thee Sou. Or like a Devil rather Sat. Have I not always taken great delight S●ll To take away good gold and give me light Sat. How much nocturnal and diurnal care Have I sustain'd for thee Sou. True t' insnare Sat. Have I not been assiduous to a wait Upon thy pleasure Sou. And corrupt my state Sat. Have I not proffer'd all that can be given To a sick Soul Sou. To drive my Soul from Heaven Sat. Did I not promise to be true and just S●ll Did I not say I 'd neither try nor trust Sat. Did I not promise that I 'd make thee wise Sou. Did I not say thou wert compos'd of lyes Sat. Did I not promise to encrease thy store Sou. Did I not say such wealth would make me poor Sat. Did I not promise to advance thy flame Sou. Did I not say thy honors were thy shame Sat. Did I not promise to uphold thy peace Sou. Did I not say such wars would never cease Sat. Did I not promise thee a Crown of life Sou. Did I not say that Crown would crown my strife Sat. Did I not promise thee eternal glory Sou. Did I not say that promise was a story Sat. Did I not promise I would give thee all Sou. Did I not say such promises were small Sat. Did I not tell thee I was great and good Sou. Did I not answer 't was in shedding blood Sat. Did I not tell thee that my ways were best Sou. Did I not answer that they were unblest Sat. Did I not tell thee that thou shouldst have joy Sou. Did I not answer such as would destroy Sat. Did I not tell thee that I did lament Sou. Did I not answer that I was content Sat. Did I not tell thee what a friend I 'd prove Sou. Did I not answer that I could not love Sat. Thus by fair terms ● labour'd to obtain Sou. Thus in ●oul terms ● told thee 't was in vain Sat. Then I begun to threaten thee with grief Sou. And then I fled to Heav'n and found relief Sat. I threatened to afflict thee with large pains Sou. I told thee such afflictions were my gains Sat. I told thee more then now I will express Sou. My answers made thee wish I had spoke less Sat. But now I see my real words can find No rest within the center of thy mind For 't is in vain to sow the seeds of life In a dead heart that is manur'd with strife I 'le therefore cease my importuning love I 'le shew my Serpent and keep close my Dove Do do thy worst vile wretch I 'le make thee know Griefs abstract and the quintessence of woe I 'le load thee with extremities thy brest Shall always crave but find no place of rest Had but my grave advice receiv'd a place Within thy heart thou hadst been fil'd with grace But now the inundations of thy trouble Shall overflow thee and I will redouble My new-contrived plagues I 'le make thee feel My melting heart is now transform'd to steel Thy tongue shall like a bolt of thunder roul And roar within thy mouth thy sulphurous Soul Shall flash forth lightening and thy blood-red eyes Shall blaze like Comets in the troubled Skies Thy teeth shall gnash as if they scorn'd to be Concomitants in so much miserie Oh how I 'le carbonado every part And sill thy body with increasing smart Thy Soul shall lure for death but that shall hate To pierce upon thee and contemn thy state Life shall be still incroaching but thy breath Shall scorn that life and hate it unto death Thy flesh shall drop forth brimstone and thy bones Shall court each other in their crackling tones Horror shall be thy watchman curses shall Possess thy tongue one torment still shall call Upon another when thy voyce shall cry But for a drop Confusion shall reply No no thou shalt not if a golden Myne ●ould buy a drop that drop should not be thine Then shalt thou say if thou hadst been at first Advis'd by me thou hadst not been accurst Thus in this sad Dilemma shalt thou roar And crave my succour but I 'le not deplore Thy woful state because thou wert averse To goodness after folly comes a curse Then shalt thou know and find