Heart and Mouth may give thee praise As in thy Temple keep there residence Within my Soul and never part from thence Till I am fram'd and fitted by thy hand A Pillar in God's House above to stand ON Ascension Day ART thou ascended blessed Lord on high And do I on this earth still grovelling lye In muddy sensual fading pleasures drown'd Where pain and grief horrours and Hell are found O pity dearest Lord some pity take On a poor fainting Soul for thy names sake Help Lord Lord help to thee I lift mine Eyes Stretch forth thy helping hand and make me rise O raise my sinking Soul above the Mud And dirt of low delights which Flesh and Blood Relish and crave Let my exalted mind It's pleasures in thy Love and Service find But ne'r let that seem pleasant to my taste Which grieves thy Spirit and doth my Conscience waste Keep my Soul mindful of its heavenly birth That it may Heaven-ward tend wean'd from this Earth By all my falls upon this slippery Ground Grant that I nearer may to Heaven rebound And let all streams of comfort here below Up to the Fountain lead me whence they flow Let Faith and Love and Longings raise my Heart Up to the blissful place where Lord thou art Let my chief joy spring from this Faith and Love Till I ascend to thee and joyes above Divine Love. WHose Soul is once betroth'd can ever he From that engagement disobliged be The hearts which love unites in loyal bands Are chain'd as fast as by their tongues and hands Even thus am I in heart engag'd my mind Is firmly fixt but on no Female-kind The blessed Jesus is my Lord my Love He is my choice from him I 'll never move Away then all you objects that divert And seek to draw from my dear Lord my heart Go Riches Honours Beauty Bravery go Tempt these mean Souls who nothing better know That uncreated Beauty which hath gain'd My ravisht Heart hath all your glory stain'd His loveliness my Soul hath prepossest And left no room for any other guest Cease then with knocking 's to assault my Door Disturb not my repose attempt no more These gates which to the King of Glory be Made to fly open and to none but he For him I sigh I wishly look and long To be releas'd from this ensnaring throng Of poor bewildred Mortals from whose sight My Soul doth meditate a nobler slight Into the Regions of eternal Joy Where nothing shall her blessful peace annoy There 's her own home her Country 's there above That blessed Land of Life of Light and Love There my dear Friends fled hence with God are blest Thither are swiftly hasting all the rest There lives my Lord and there I long to live He gave these longings and himself will give Hast then pale Death accomplish my design Thou that break'st others wedlocks finish mine This naked breast strike with thy sharpest Dart The sweetest Cordial to a fainting Heart Release my pained Soul from this dull clod Of prisoning Earth and take her to her God That there she may her Nuptials solemnize Where neither Sin nor Death shall spoil her Joys Lord hear these groanings and some pity take On a poor gasping Soul which for thy sake From earthly home Freinds Joys and all would part To be with thee for ever where thou art O make me meet for this Translation and Then on this happy message death command In the mean time Lord shew thy self to me Till thou shalt please to take me up to thee So to mine Eyes thy glory still display That they may never look another way So let me taste the sweetness of thy Love That no allurements may my mind once move Quicken my longings and encrease that flame Which Heaven-wards lifts the Soul from whence it came Let flames of holy Love all others burn And opposition into fewel turn Let thy Sun-beams on a dark heart shine clear All our earth kindled fires will disappear In thee now let me find so much of Rest As may with more impatience fill my breast Till fill'd with thee the pains of love increase Till they shall in a full fruition cease So seize on me that we ne're more may part Till thou shalt take my Soul Lord keep my heart And dwell in me till I with thee shall dwell This Earth with thee is Heaven without thee Hell. ON DEATH I. TEll me some kind Spirit tell How comes death so terrible Thou who art already fled in triumph say Why the embodied Soul is so in love with Clay By what strange Magnetisms woo'd She so adheres to Flesh and Blood That fate must force her from that dull abode Or she would groveling lye Th' eternal Tenant of Mortality The wretch whom a malignant Fever fires And at each pore in liquid flame expires Cold death's refreshing hands to shun Doth to th' unkinder Doctor run For Juleps Blistrings and Phlebotomy And other medicinal Artillery The Fever 's vanquish'd and the Man is free But all this stir and torment only gains The priviledge of being rack'd again by these Or the severer pains Of sorne more merciless Disease Had not the Patient better fled to ' a Tomb Th' Asylum which distempers give but where they never come II. Old age it self which one would guess Should with a kind of lust Lye down and sleep in Dust Does yet the grand fatigue of life caress And gapes for its last dregs with unextinguishable Thirst When the dull eyes spirituous fire is lost Like cooling Metals fixt by Winters Frost When the bald Head depopulate and bare Looks white like some smooth Globe of Ice And of its once fair flourishing spring the Hair All that remains will not suffice The mighty summ to count To which the numerous Years that have gone or 't amount Yet even this feeble piece of Hums and Ha's That 's but the Monument of what he was Doth with his Cordials and Elixirs treat To make his wearied Pulses beat With momentary heat Still he abhors the dismal thoughts of Death Still on his guard he stands And fain he would defend his breath 'Gainst the great Conquerour's stroke though but with Crutches in his hands III. Strange Riddle of mysterious desire That Man should hope his vital fire Should Vestal prove and ne're expire That he should wish th' Eclipsed beams Like Arethusa under ground might stray In a decrepit Body's dark inglorious way And never disembogue their shining streams Into the glorious Ocean of inexhausted day Is this the Reason which we so much boast That sure unerring Guide No less our safety than our pride And would this have us in a tempest ride And endlesly be tost When one kind Shipwrack would convey us to our native Coast A coast where we might pleasure taste High with the gust of all peril past Where a perpetual spring of bliss Blooming in all the rich Luxuriancies Of never withering Ecstasis Satiates but does not cloy The ravish'd
mind And no Tears fall but those of joy Which Nilus like while they orewhelm are kind IV. But though with all this pomp of words we prate And paint the happy glories Which grace the triumphs of a future State Yet sure we think 'em sensless stories The pageantry of some distempered Head Which fancies Pencil did delineate The broken visions of the living when they dream'd ' o th' dead That we are so loth to die Proceeds from infidelity For whatsoe're the mighty Men of Sense Those skulls of Axiome and Philosophy By reasons Telescope pretend t' evince Beyond this World we can no other see And not to be Worse than lifes greatest storm appears Than all its Hurricanes of hopes and fears So some baulkt Gamester who hath but one poor Stake Left of his Stock and knows not when he may Get more to keep in play Does his last chance with trembling take And fain he would the fatal throw delay The Box once lost to him for ever 's past away V. Or if we 're fully satisfied The Soul is to Divinity allied That its impenetrable hypostasis Is of a lasting and substantial make Which Death's arrest can never shake But from our scattered Ashes shall arise Bekindled with exhalted energies If this her fixt perswasion be Doubtless 't is guilt that makes us pale and grone When fate sends out the black Decree Of dissolution As a debauch't Gallant That 's just embarquing for a foreign Land ' Midst throngs of Creditors does worried stand Who for quick payment with wild fury rant So Conscience rallies up Of crimes the worst of Debts ten thousand Bills Embitters with new poysons Death 's ungrateful Cup And the departing Soul with shame and horror fills So that Mankind doth lye Under a sad necessity Of strong desire to live and wretched fear to die Which way so ere their faith they turn A forcible Dilemma's Horn Wounds them in each Hypothesis The Atheist would for ever live in this 'Cause there 's no other World the Theist 'cause there is By Mr. Walrond of All Souls An addition by another hand VI. But the true Christian whose firm Faith doth sway His Heart and Life who humbly doth obey That Gospel he believes and in good earnest makes Heaven his end and Holiness the way Wherein he constantly doth walk Whilst he thro' this low World his journey takes And leaves great things which others use to talk This gallant Man can Death outbrave Which if a Monarch fear that Monarch is a Slave Mean Slave is he who fears to die He lives yea dies in daily fear Death tho' far off he thinks and makes it near Afraid of every Man that passeth by Of every Beast and Bird and every Fly Of every Bit and every Draught Which is ever poysoned by his own dire thought Fain the poor Wretch would longer live And yet he fears what longer Life must give He dare not Eat he dare not Sleep Tho' thousand armed Guards strict watch do keep O're him the mighty Prisoner Day and Night They watch as if 't were to prevent his flight These aw'd with threats and hir'd with great rewards To keep him safe yet cannot save his breast From fears which still disturb his rest Alas the Tyrant fears those very armed Guards VII But the true Christian free From this ignoble painful slavery O're fear of Death has got the Victory And o're the love of Life and all that 's here Which this low Life to Mortals doth endear His Soul by Grace refin'd from drossie Earth From sordid Lusts and love of Sin Made mindful of its own high Birth It will not be confin'd within These narrow bounds of Matter and of Time But up into Eternity will clime With wings of Faith and fervent Love doth soar To the Aethereal Regions there to share Those Glories which our Lord is gone before For all his faithful Followers to prepare Our Lord who drove away dark shades of Night Brought Life and Immortality to light And with that darkness banisht fear And by that Light our minds did chear The Christian he doth teach to wait And long for Death that shall translate His Soul to its most blissful State And makes him patient to endure The cares of Life or miseries of old Age Even when the torturing Stone the Gout or Colick rage He bears with courage what he cannot cure VIII Not love of Life but hope of Heaven does give This courage and makes him content to live In midst of Racks and cruel Pain Who in the midst of joys counts Death his gain Strong and untir'd he acts th' allotted part Undauntedly he bears th' inflicted smart Not that he fondly cares still to repeat Lifes tedious Circle still to eat To Drink to Talk to Work and Sleep Still to roll the Stone up Hill The Stone which tumbles downward still Only he knows he must his Station keep Untill the General bids sound a Retreat And when he hears that joyful sound Gladly he doth himself prepare To march away and doth himself his breast make bare When Death draws nigh to give the healing wound He dare not on his Life commit a Rape Heaven is not taken by that Violence But he dare meet Death in the horrid'st shape He nothing fears from that kind Providence Which wisely orders all Axes and Halters Flames and Swords Whatever else we dreadful call What are they all but Bugbear words To fright weak Childish minds but cannot fright That Man of Wisdom and of Might The valiant Christian not afaid to die For Death is all those great words signifie IX If Death be all what does the good Man care Whether an Halter or a Quinsie choke And stop that breath which he doth freely yield Whether an Ax or Apoplexy give the Stroke The gentle Stroke of Death The good Man generously dare In a good cause die in the open Field As well as in his Bed give up his breath Nor does he fear the stormy Ocean's Wave In a Sea Monsters Paunch dare make his Grave Is unconcern'd whether he expire In some Malignant Fevers fire Or in the nobler flames of Martyrdom Elias-like he be conducted home O're all he is a Conqueror And somewhat more ' i th' midst of all he can in triump sing O Death where is thy Sting Of that long since thou was bereft For in our dying Lord that sting was left In stead whereof Death now hath got a Wing Which helps to waft the Heaven-born Soul on High When once releas'd from this dull earthly Clod There the free Soul to her own home doth fly For ever there to make her blest abode Where she no more doth fear to sin to smart or die But there she clearly doth behold her God Her God she there loves and enjoys eternally Midnight Meditations LOOK here my Soul how sparkling and how bright These Stars do shine in this cold frosty Night From the Sun's absence they advantage take Their native lustre visible
and quiet times would owe But to the Valour which subdues his Foe O daring conqu'ring Virtue 't is we prize As this claims Glory as its just desert Shelves Sands and Tempests are the Exercise And Honour of the skilful Pilots Art. Who boasts a Virtue that was never tri'd Is a stout Seaman by a Fire-side Great Praise we to our wise Creator owe Who tho he hath not which he eas'ly could Made all things sweet and smooth to make them so Gives us the pow'r all Earth he made not Gold But gives th' Elixir which can do as much Turning course Stones to pure Gold by its touch On the Rain that fell in June 81. after a long Drought from the beginning of April begun in my Iourney WHilst gracious Lord thy Creatures all around Give thee what praise they can shall Man be found The only sensless dull and silent Thing Shall he be mute whilst ev'n the Fields do sing Their pleasedness is in their Colour seen How soon the parched Earth looks fresh and green The thankful Corn its head doth humbly bend Flow'rs and Herbs sweet Odors heaven-ward send The chearful Birds which in all Weathers sing And thereby chide and shame Mans murmuring Now use their utmost Art and strain their Throats To warble forth their sweet melodious Notes The duller Beasts hear this and straightway they As dancing to this Musick Frisk and Play. A noble gratitude they teach whilst for these showrs They thankful are whose benefit is ours And what shall we who more receive than they And more can render shall not we repay Those thanks to which the lower Creatures all As well as our Creator do us call And both we disobey and both we wrong If we with all the rest joyn not our Song Since they by us their Praises send to Hea'vn By us who know all good Things thence are giv'n And who with Speech and Reason were indu'd First to conceive then shew our Gratitude Wherefore I do adore that Providence Which these enriching Showers doth dispence That to the languishing and parched Earth And dying Grain and Herbs gives life and birth The thirsty Fields which could no moisture get From Springs or Rivers are refresht with wet In such a way as would mirac'lous seem Did not the commonness abate esteem What makes the Vapours to ascend on high And there condense to Clouds that fill the Sky What makes those hollow Clouds strong to contain Within their Wombs vast Treasuries of Rain And what supports them when thus weighty grown To keep them from a sudden tumbling down Justly we may applaud justly admire The Chymistry of that Coelestial Fire Which from salt Seas fresh Vapors doth extract Like thanks and wonder doth that Art exact Which makes the Clouds to hover as they fall And breaks and parcels them in drops so small Which on the Earth whilst gently they distil Revive those Fruits which Flouds and Spouts would kill Thus Lord thy Works thy Glory do proclaim Both Heav'n and Earth conspire to praise thy Name Ev'n every pile of Grass and every Show'r Which makes that Grass to grow doth shew thy Pow'r No less they shew thy Bounty to us all On whom thy Sun doth shine thy Rain doth fall How wondrous is that Bounty which renews Daily those Gifts which daily we abuse Mercy is thy delight O teach us more To imitate that Mercy we adore And whilst the Earth improves the Sun and Rain Let us not still receive thy Gifts in vain Let warmth and softness in our Hearts be wrought And holy Fruits unto perfection brought Such Fruits as may our Benefactor please Who sends these Gifts and greater Gifts than these He gave his Son his Son did shed his Blood By goodness God designs to make us good And this design his Goodness doth pursue Whilst he affords the rich and heavenly Dew Of 's Word and Grace to quicken and renew Our thirsty Souls O God thou art all Love On this alone we live here and above This doth preserve that Life which first it gave From this the comforts of our Life we have This now gives Grace and Glory hath prepar'd By this we Work from this have our reward And since this Love with blessings fills our days Lord give us Hearts as full of Love and Praise Such Hearts as may direct our Hands and Tongues To pious Actions and to grateful Songs And as each Moment brings from God above Mercy through which we live and breathe and move So Lord let every pulse and every Breath And every action praise Thee until Death Which stops that Breath our Souls shall thither raise Where love's our Life and all our Work is praise And what Crowns all where Death shall not destroy This blessed Life of Love and Praise and Joy. On a Cross with a Crown upon it in Burton betwixt Lancashire and Kendale Sept. 18. 80. THis day in Riding through a Town Upon the Cross I saw a Crown Which straightway brought unto my mind What we in Holy Writ do find That Christ did first his Cross sustain Before he was advanc'd to reign And this is every Christians case Who wins the prize must run the race Our selves we first must well behave E're modestly Rewards we crave Bearing the burthen of the day E're we receive the evening-pay And Conquer in our Christian fight Before we have to Triumph right And many sorrows undergo Before the Joys of Heav'n we know Lord to thy Orders I submit Confessing they are just and sit Reason doth teach us and thy Word The Servant 's not above his Lord By Patience and Obedience he To Glory went and so must we But since thy Grace alone doth send Help in the way bliss in the end Such measures of this Grace impart As may both give strength and desert Lord furnish me with pow'r and skill To do and suffer all thy Will Make me but willing to obey And what commands thou pleasest lay Make me but able to abide And how thou wilt let me be tri'd Lord help me so thy yoke to wear Help me my burdens so to bear That when they shall be both laid down I may receive a glorious Crown On the sight of Furness Fells Iune 19. 71. OFT have I seen a barren Mountain shroud Its lofty head within a liquid Cloud There at its will thus height still makes things proud Quaffing up Vapours which had else been Rain Drinking all up yet sending nought again But still a barren Mountain doth remain Whilst humble Valleys which do lye below Waiting till Heaven its kindly Dews bestow In Corn and Wine in Milk and Honey slow Thus greedy proud impatient minds that crave Still more and more from Heaven or nothing have Or yield no Fruit of whatsoere it gave Whilst humble Souls by silent patience Which strongly wooes soon get great blessings thence And thither still return their recompence On the Parting of Ways in a Iourney I Often as I Travel find Divided ways
divide my mind Perplext I stand and don 't well know Whether I here or there should go At length I forward must advance Guided by guesses or by chance And when I have some paces gone I find they both do meet in one This gives my mind some recompence For th' former trouble and suspence Thus in Religions nicer ways One here and there another strays Each fiercely cries that he 's i' th' right And both my tender mind affright Then to the Sacred Rule I go To see if this my way doth show This humble Souls in great things guides But subtle trisles ne're decides When nothing thence is understood The footsteps of the wise and good With care I trace and on I hold Till my maturer thoughts grow bold To slight this trifling difference As seeming of mean consequence Since in all things of weight they both agree And I in them with both this quiets me An account of my Life in the North. Bene qui latuit bene vixit SInce you dear friend wonder how here I live This homely Verse a brief account shall give I live if not in pleasure yet at case Not in loud laughters but in silent peace And tho I rarely meet with merriment I more a stranger am to discontent Here 's no excess nor are things needful scant I seldom feast but yet I never want No dainties here to luxury invite Our food serves well the sober appetite Which need not be with poignant Sawces drest Our healthful Hunger of all Sawce is best Doctors we have none nor much need them here The Doctors we more than Diseases fear For Country-folks think they sell death to dear Altho I lie not on a rich Down-bed Yet do sweet sleeps refresh my weary head No Walks or Gardens here but yet the Field And fragrant Meadows equal pleasures yield No Lutes or Viols entertain my ear But more melodious Birds I daily hear Riches I have not nor do riches need Whilst here at easy rates we clothe and feed I have no Servants whom I may command Nor have I work that needs a Servants hand I am not high enough to envied be Nor do I one whom I should envy see Here 's no applause to make me proud or vain Nor do I meet with censures or disdain My people if they are not wise and great Are not untractable through self-conceit No factious giddy heads that make a Schism For fear of Popery or Arminianism No sawey arrogant controllers such That cry This is too little this too much No such vile wretches who their Preacher hate 'Cause he reproves sin at too smart a rate Wherefore I envy not flocks of more wealth Which give more trouble whilst they have less health If of Companions I have no great store With my own mind I may converse the more And from my old Friends tho I am confin'd Letters may keep us in each others mind Or if whilst buried here I lose their love I 'l fix my mind on surer things above But need I Friends need I Companions crave Whilst I as many Friends as Neighbours have Or if I want the joy of bosom Friends I 'scape the pain which still that joy attends For whilst they live our hearts oft ake with fear But break and bleed when of their death we hear And if I want the comfort of a Wife I have the pleasures of a single life If I no Gallants here nor Beauties see From slavish Love and Courtship I am free What fine things else you in the South can name Our North can shew as good if not the same Ev'n as in Winter you have shorter Nights But Summer us with longer Days requites Thus if my want of joy makes life less sweet Death then will seem less bitter when we meet But what is this Worlds Joy 'T is Innocence And Virtue that do truest joys dispence If Innocence and Virtue with me dwell They 'l make a Paradice of an Hermits Cell On Psal. 19. 57. Thou art my portion O Lord. DIstemper'd men whose Souls are all on fire For earthly toys do heighten their desire By what they reach to and the more they have The less content the more they still do crave Wealth Honours Pleasures all do but enflame Corrupted Appetites not fill the same As Oil when thrown upon a raging fire Quenches it not but makes the flame rise high'r So they in burning Fevers whilst they think To cool their heat encrease it with cold drink The best of creatures never were design'd By their Creator to content the mind But are bestow'd to lead us unto him We up these Streams should to the Fountain swim Only those blessed Souls who place their love On God himself and on the Joys above That solid satisfaction do attain Which others hunt the World for all in vain God is our centre and our place of Rest He fills alone the most enlarged breast He who enjoys him always of excess Will ne're complain nor be of emptiness Who doth enjoy him fully Once but tast His sweetest goodness and thou ne're wilt wast Thy time or love thy serious thought or pains Of things that merit not the name of gains Him thou wilt make thy Portion and thy Lot Nor spend thy Coin for that which profits not In him are heighths and depths of good to move And satisfy his peoples boundless love On Psalm 39. 6 7. IN a retired Hermitage I dwell Where no disturbance can approach my Cell Where scarce with any noise my ears are struck But th' gentle murmurs of a purling Brook Or the soft whispers of the Winds that move The trembling Leaves of an adjoyning Grove Or the sweet musick of the winged Quire Unto whose mirth and freedom I aspire Here with a calm and easie mind I sit From throngs from bus'ness and from passions quit And hence as from an higher Region I The ways of mortals on this Earth descry Their toilsom follies and their fruitless pains Heavy their toils alas but small their gains Shadows they follow dote on painted toys Strangers to manly solid lasting joys Here see the Earthworm lab'ring in a Mine For heaps of Clay which tho he doth refine It 's still but glittering Clay yet the poor slave Here digs till unawares he finds his Grave Where down he lies but leaves behind his Gold For which his Liberty his Ease his Soul he sold His Gold he leaves oft to an unknown Heir Who wildly wasts the fruits of all his care Strange madness this which Misers hath possest Who starve themselves to make their Heirs a feast Here see the proud Man hunting after Fame And yet by vice and bus'ness blots his name Adores himself and would have all adore And therefore is by all despis'd the more Scorns to submit to any Man and yet To his own Passions vilely doth submit He lavishes much labour skill and time Up into some high dignity to climb On which his vain designs if Fortune smile Tott'ring and
which reconciles The Savage Beasts and angry Elements Turns rage and fury into friendly smiles And mischief either conquers or prevents To him vvho doth the great Creator love The World of creatures all vvill harmless prove This Armour 's strong tho light a Coat of Mail Not to be pierc'd by Bullet or by Steel It gives a strength o're vvhich nought can prevail May I its force vvithin my breast but feel Fearless I 'le follovv vvhither Fate shall call Smiling I 'l bear vvhatever shall befall Place me on Northern Hills of frozen Snovv On vvhich the Pole-star doth directly stand There will I give the love and praise I owe To him whose love makes that a pleasant Land. 'Gainst frosts and Snows Love is the only charm These flames melt Snows these flames my breast shall warm Or throw me on the parched Lybian Sands Where flaming Sun-beams do the Trav'ler burn Love all Divine those scorching heats withstands Gods Love will Deserts to a Garden turn His Smiles his Words are Fountains Shades and Breeze Each place is Paradice when I have these No Winter frosts this holy Love shall chill No prosp'rous Summer's heat shall it abate But higher it shall flame and higher still Till it to Heav'n my Soul in Flames translate God's Love is all I crave in Heaven above On Earth below I only craves Gods Love. Lib. 1. Martial Epigram 6 tum AN Eagle once a Child aloft did bear The Child secure the Eagle most in fear Thus Caesars Lions sport them with their Prey The Hare in their wide Mouth doth safely play Which then the greater Wonder shall be thought A mighty Power each to pass hath brought Jove did the first the latter Caesar wrought For M. M. upon her Recovery when at Antwerp OH praise the Lord my Soul humbly adore The riches of his Grace which more and more To me his Handmaid hath been still exprest Let Love and Praise be equally encreast 'T was God who first did Life and Reason give By him I am preserv'd in him I live His Mercy and his Pow'r did lately save My Soul from Death my Body from the Grave 'T is just I to my God should wholly live Who hath renew'd the Life he first did give Thou that didst make me put my mind in frame Make me thy Servant who thy Creature am As thou hast lately made my Body whole So do much more for my more precious Soul. What thou hast wrought without now work within My pain is gone Lord cleanse me from my Sin Thy healthful Spirit upon me bestow That I in Grace may daily stronger grow So strengthen me that I may walk in ways Of Holiness and Peace through all my daies Till thou shalt take me hence to live above In endless Joys with thee the God of Love. Written on Dr. Patrick's Devout Christian given to a Friend IN Prayer the Tongue hath but the lesser part Devotion 's chiefly seated in the Heart This with our Lips we humbly must express And in our Lives by serious Holiness They who on Earth with Heart Lips Life adore Their God in Heav'n shall praise him evermore Whilst then our Pray'rs begin and end the Day Let 's daily live as strictly as we pray Au Epitaph design'd for that most excellently accomplisht and Publick-spirited Gentleman William Banks Esq of Winstantly in Lancashire who died at Chastleton in Oxfordshire Iuly 6. 76. UNder this Monument the Reliques lie Of a Great Man all that of him could die Who whilst he liv'd liv'd to the noblest ends To serve his God his Country and his Friends Wherefore his God his Friends his Country give Freedom from Death and make him still to live His Soul with God in Regions lives above In Regions like his Soul all Peace and Love With dearest Friends his precious Memory Lives fresh and fragrant nor with them shall die His grateful Country doth preserve his name Just Praises and true Tears Embalm the same His lovely Picture still hath Life and Breath In hopeful Children so small Power hath Death Over good Men who when they seem to yield Then like their dying Lord they win the Field Only the Grave in peace retains their Dust Until the Resurrection of the Just. Multis ille bonis flebilis occidit Nulli flebilior quam mihi On A. M. a tender Infant HEre Sweetness lies and Innocence whose Breath Was stopt by early not unfriendly Death She 's gone to rest just as she did begin Sorrow to know before she knew to sin Death that doth Sin and Sorrow thus prevent Is the next Blessing to a Life well spent ON Bishop WILKINS'S Picture Decemb. 30. 82. THis is his Shadow who was once the Glory And Pillar of our British Church whose Story Ages to come shall wondring read this Age Shall mourn his death tremble at its presage He was all that which makes men great and good But 's loss will make his Worth best understood His just Description I no more can give Than th' Painter can make this his Picture live His truer Picture lives within my mind And in the pious Works he left behind In both my sorrows some relief shall find Till his great Soul ere long I meet above Amongst blest Spirits in Heav'nly Joy and Love. True Beauty LET blind Admirers handsom Faces praise And graceful Features to great Honour raise The Glories of the red and white express I know no beauty but in Holiness If God of beauty be the uncreate Perfect Idea in this lower State The greatest beauties of an human mold Who most resemble Him we justly hold Whom we resemble not in flesh and blood But being pure and holy just and good May such a Beauty fall but to my share For Curious Shape or Face I ne're shall care On my Picture SEE here the Shadow of another Shade Which like its Picture soon away will fade To Worms and Moths a Portion soon will fall Both short-liv'd Copy and Original And yet rejoice my Friends since th' unseen mind Lives when dead Shades and Corps are lest behind And shall we be concern'd what will become Of fading Faces rotten Bones and Tomb Whilst th' unseen Mind whose form no art can draw Exempted is from Deaths severer Law Virtue doth Life and lasting Beauty give Virtue and virtuous minds for ever live With God they live in joys together where Of losing God Joys Friends is no more fear Rejoice then Friends this Glory make your choice Always do good always in God rejoice FINIS Books Written by Mr. John Rawlet B. D. and sold by Samuel Tidmarsh in Cornhil A Treatise of Sacramental Covenanting with Christ shewing the ungodly their contempt of Christ in their contempt of the Sacramental Covenant With a Preface chiefly designed for the satisfaction of Dissenters and to exhort all men to Peace and Vnity An Explication of the Creed the Ten Commandments and the Lords Prayer with the addition of some Forms of Prayer A Dialogue betwixt two Prorestants in answer to a Popish Catechise called a short Catechism against all Sectaries plainly shewing That the Members of the Church of England are no Sectaries but true Catholicks and that our Church is a sound part of Christ's holy Catholick Church in whose Communion therefore the People of this Nation are most strictly bound in Conscience to remain The Christian Monitor containing an earnest Exhortation to an Holy Life with some directions in order thereto written in a plain and easie Stile for all sorts of people Poetick Miscellanies
Iohn Rawlet B. D. Died Septemb r 28 th 1686. Aetat 44. Poetick Miscellanies OF M r JOHN RAWLET B. D. And late Lecturer of S. Nicholas Church IN THE TOWN and COUNTY OF New-Castle upon Tine Et prodesse valent delectare Poetae A verse may find him who a Sermon flies And turn delight into a Sacrifice Herbert LICENSED Novemb. 22. 1686. Rob. Midgley LONDON Printed for Samuel Tidmarsh at the King's-Head in Cornhill near the Royal Exchange 1687. An Epitaph on the Reverend and truly pious Mr. Iohn Rawlet B. D. made by his sorrowful Friend I. M. RAwlet's Remains lodge in this humble Cave As he was free from pride so is his Grave But Virtue needs no Pyramids It s worth Bribes not the Heraulds pains to blaze it forth As Diamonds shine by their own native Rayes And Phoebus his own glittering beams displays So great deserts are their own Monument No Tomb no Epitaph's so eloquent Whilst others therefore their proud Marbles boast He rests with greater honour but less cost On his Divine Poems REader expect not here the filth of th' Stage Poems that please but more debauch the Age. His chaster Muse such heavenly strains doth sing As Angels chant to their Immortal King. By such pure harmony he tun'd his heart In the Coelestial Choir to bear a part THE CONTENTS AN Epitaph on the Reverend and truly Pious Mr. John Rawlet Pag. i On his Divine Poems ii An Invitation to the Holy Communion with directions c. Pag. 1 On the Holy Communion 4 Another Poem of the same 6 Directions for receiving the Holy Communion 8 For early rising on a Lord's-day Morning 11 Morning Thoughts 13 Directions for the Evening 16 On Whitsunday 18 On Ascension 23 On Divine Love. 25 On Death 30 Midnight Meditations 46 A description of True Prayer 51 How to get and keep a quiet mind in all Conditions 53 A Preservative against Temptations 57 On Solitude 59 The sum of our Duty 68 Whilst I was hearing Musick 70 On a great Thunder and storm June 1. 1671 72 Calmness in a Storm c. 74 On the Rain that fell in June 1681. 77 On a Cross with a Crown upon it in Burton 83 On the sight of Furness Fells 86 On the parting of ways in a Iourny 88 An account of my life in the North. 90 Paraphrases Of Palm 19. 57. Thou art my Portion O Lord. 94 Of Psalm 39. 6 7. 96 Luke 11. 14 c. 101 Of Seneca ' s Thyestes Act. II. 103 A Plain Paraphrase 104 His first Epistle to Lucilius 105 His 70 Epistle 109 Of Horace's Ode 22. 128 Martial's Epigram lib. 1. 6. 132 Inscriptions and Epitaphs For M. M. upon her recovery at Antwerp 133 Written on Dr. Patrick's Devout Christian given to a Friend 135 An Epitaph designed for William Banks Esquire 136 On A. M. a tender Infant 138 On Bishop Wilkins's Picture 139 True Beauty 141 On my own Picture 142 AN INVITATION TO THE Holy Communion WITH DIRECTIONS FOR THE Due Receiving it HArk we are call'd O friends Away away All things are ready make no more delay Are all things ready and shall only we For whom they are prepar'd unready be We that forbidden Fruit did long to taste Shan't we when call'd to our Lord's table haste When food provided is which will restore The blessedness our eating lost before Let us then hasten and this Call obey 'T is with the Prince that we must dine to day Whose Sacred presence calls us to prepare And fit our selves Hast must not banish care Hither approach all fair and clean within From the defiling love of every sin All bath'd in purest streams of hallowed tears Which help to wash our stains and drown our fears The Souls first dipt in this preparation flood Are fit for farther cleansing by Christ's blood Repentance is a second innocence Joyn'd with resolves for new obedience Draw nigh with faith and holy love adorn'd And deep humility which though it 's scorn'd By blinder mortals is in Gods own Eye The Souls true beauty richest gallantry With ardent longings come enflam'd to tast The deepest sweets of this divine repast The grace and comfort here diffus'd abroad And on the well-prepared Soul bestow'd Beg him to fit you thus who did invite You hither for both meat and appetite Do come from him and by the hand that spread Our Table must our Souls be furnished And when in th' Wedding garment we are drest With humble boldness to this Sacred feast Let us approach this wondrous banquet where The Master of the Feast becomes our cheer ON THE Holy Communion THE Son of God made Man his life laid down To save our Life to purchase us a Crown He bore the Cross and that we might retain The memory hereof he did ordain His Sacred Supper as his Churches Feast When he bestows upon each humble Guest Those greater blessings which he represents By Bread and Wine the outward Elements He doth himself in this familiar way With Pardon Grace and Glory too convey To such who whilst by faith they these receive To him themselves entirely back do give Thus is a Marriage union finisht and Christ and the Soul linkt in a mutual band Thus at one Feast we mingle griefs and joyes Christ's death and our own Nuptials solemnize And if indeed our Faith and Love herein Are with Repentance joyn'd if we for sin Sincerely grieve sincerely plight our Troth In Heaven we shall enjoy the fruits of Both. ON THE Holy Communion OUR blessed Lord who loved us and gave Himself for us us by his death to save That this his love and death might never be Forgotten hath ordain'd a feast when we With grateful hearts should still record his love And to blest purposes his death improve Oft let 's remember then and praise our Lord At 's Holy Table where he doth afford To worthy Guests Peace Pardon Grace and Joy Pleasures that satisfie but never cloy And let us still set Jesus in our sight In all our actions by this Copy write That our dear Lord beholding us may find His Sacred Image in our Life and Mind Thus let us with great Zeal and Holy strife Christ's death remember imitate his Life So shall we grow in grace till from this state Our Lord to Glory shall his friends translate Then shall we be where blessed Jesus is And feast with him in perfect endless bliss DIRECTIONS FOR RECEIVING THE Holy Communion CHrist calls us to his Table but who 's fit In such an High and Holy place to sit Only the Souls that are adorn'd with Grace May here in presence of their Lord take place Such whom the knowledge of his wondrous love To deepest sorrow for their sins doth move Who place on him their Love and Confidence And render a sincere Obedience To all his Laws who make God's Love their Treasure Preferring it above Wealth Honour Pleasure Who do in Charity with all Men live And those who wrong them from their
trembling there he stands a while Till thence by some slight push he headlong fall Whither he up by tedious steps did crawl Unweildy greatness and his dangerous height Make him to fall with greater shame more weight The Man of pleasure thinks himself more wise Gilt Earth and pop'lar air he doth despise Delights he craves more fit for flesh and blood Give him his grosser and more savoury mud The pleasures of his Throat and Lust wherein Wallowing he drowns himself and sense of Sin And yet his course his own designs doth thwart Rendring the Life he 's fond of dull and short The pleasures that he takes his health destroy Health without which no pleasures we enjoy His pleasures leave far greater pain behind They please his senses but torment his mind O brutish sensless wretch who when he might With Angels tast of pure and high delight Will rather chuse on pois'nous dirt to dine Will chuse in filth to lodg with Dogs and Swine Well let them take their choice But how shall I This short swift moment spend before I dye What shall I seek What shall I wait for here Oh! need'st thou ask what should to thee be dear My Soul What is it when this World is gone Will then thy portion be Seek Him alone Ev'n the Eternal God the only rest Of Holy Souls who in his Love are blest His Love shall Honour be his Grace my Treasure His Service and his Smiles my highest Pleasure May I but feel I love and know I please My God I 'l ask no greater things than these No greater on this Earth But here I 'l wait That happy hour wherein he shall translate My weary wandring Soul unto her rest When she of Joys Divine shall be possest Joys flowing from the blessed God and make Blessed the Souls who do of them partake My hope my trust my love on him I 'l place Waiting till I in joy behold his face On Luke 11. 14 c. WHen Satan from a Sinners heart Ejected is by Grace Restless through malice still he strives To gain his ancient place He who doth readmit this Guest His state becomes much worse His wickedness more hainous is Greater shall be his Curse Then watch and pray the very first Motions to sin suppress Constantly use the means of Grace Promoting Holiness Lord cleanse our Hearts and then of us A firm possession take Engage us to thy self that we May never thee forsake Seneca Thyestes Act. 2. STet quicunque volet potens Auâ—ae culmine lubrico Me dulcis saturet quies Obscuro positus loco Leni perfruar otio Nullis nota Quiritibus Aetas per tacitum fluat Sic cum transierint mei Nullo cum strepitu dies Plebeius moriar senex Mors illi gravis incubat Qui notus nimis omnibus Ignotus moritur sibi A Plain Paraphrase LET who will climb to heights of Honour where What they with labour get they hold with fear On lower ground give me an humble nest In private shades with peace and safety blest Here I 'l in silence pass my sliding years Strange to great men strange to their cares and fears In this obscure quiet recess shall I An honest Country Parson live and die But dreadful terrors do his death attend Who all his time in crouds and noise doth spend Knows not himself nor thinks of his last end A Translation of the first Epistle of Seneca to Lucilius HOld on brave friend in those good purposes Thy last did mention by such means as these Live to thy self the time that heretofore So many ways was lost now lose no more Our time some's stoln believe me what I say Some fairlier seems withdrawn some slips away But of all ways none is a worse mispence Than losing it by sloth and negligence View with attentive eyes the most of men With whom thou dost converse and tell me then Is not their life much of it loosely spent Idly yet more all on impertinent And trifling things is lost Where canst thou name A man that prizes time that sets the same Value on Hours as Gold who every day Perceives he 's dying whilst days wear away 'T is a mistake to think death yet to come As all at once which always works and some Of it's already past for all the breath We have expir'd is in the hands of death Act as thou speakest then with all thy pow'r Lay hold on and improve each present hour So on to morrow needst thou not depend If thou to day hast wisdom well to spend All things without us can't be call'd our own But Time is truely ours and Time alone This fleeting slipp'ry thing doth nature give As riches to possess whilst here we live Yet of this precious treasure eas'ly may Who ever will vast portions steal away Strange folly this that things of little cost Or worth things easily repair'd when lost Should be so priz'd that men bestow'd with such Mean things as these themselves they reckon much Obliged to the Donor but we hear No thanks for this rare jewel Time so rare That Gratitude it self no way can find Whereby it may this gift repay in kind But you may ask how I from day to day My time do spend whether I my self obey My self herein I am I must confess Like one who joyns care with his lavishness Who though's expences do his bounds surmount Yet of 's expences still he keeps account I dare not say I lose no time yet I So careful am that I can tell you why And how and what I lose so the same Fate I 'm in with him who to a poor estate Not through his own fault is reduc'd to whom Pardon from all succour from none doth come Thus I can tell how I come poor but what Is that man poor who hath enough Sure not Yet you my friend I rather would advise With care to keep your time betimes be wise To use it well you the old Proverb know Thrift comes too late when th' Purse is grown too low And rather haste since Old-age Time behind Not only least but worst we use to find Seneca Epist. 70. IF we 'l be friends it seems I must relate My each days actions see at what a rate Of freedom I converse with thee and will Keep nothing from thee so to keep thee still I visit now the Schools and lately there Did the Philosophers disputing hear What at these years why not what should I scorn To learn at length 'cause I have long forborn I justly happy should my self esteem Was this the only act did misbeseem My years This School all ages doth admit Let us whilst young when old let 's visit it I to the Theater am carri'd age Is held no plea to keep me from the Stage Seldom a bloody fencing-match is made 'Twixt Gladiators but I see it plaid Are Sports before Philosophy prefer'd Must those be seen and may not this be heard Perfection only may dismission give From