drink 't yet Lord withall bestow But thy grace and thou shalt see me Patient and my comfort 's this That a short affliction 't is In a moment Death may free me Meditation 4. IF I must die it must be my endeavour So to provide that every thought of Death May be a thought of comfort that when-ever That aged sire shall take away my breath I may willingly lay down This old house that 's made of clay Gladly welcoming the day That brings an eternall crown But of all things a holy life 's the way Must lead me to a comfortable end To crucifie my lusts and to obey Gods sacred will in all things This doth tend Unto comfort joy and ease Mark the man that is upright And sets God alwayes in a sight That mans end is ever peace What makes me fear a serpent 't is 〈◊〉 sting The mischief 's there When that is taken out I can look on him as a harmlesse thing And in my bosome carry him about What makes Death look 〈◊〉 Noâ— Deaths self it is his sting That doth fear and horrour bring And makes men so loth to die The sting of death is sinne but there 's a Jesus Hath pluck'd it out The guilt 's done quite away The stain is wash'd He sent his Spirit to ease us In some good measure of that kingly sway Which o're us sinne held before Blessed work of grace now I Strongest lusts can 〈◊〉 In my soul sinne reigns no more Now in me holinesse is wrought which is A pious disposition of the heart Inclining me to hate what 's done amisse In me and others never to depart From God to left hand or right Nor one of his laws to break But to think and do and speak What 's well-pleasing in â—us sight Each act from faith and love ariseth and The end I aim at is my Makers praise His word 's my rule my warrant 's his command Thus am I fitted Death cut off my dayes If thou wilt within this houre I will thank thee for thy pain For to me to die is gain I 'll not fear a jote thy power What canst thou do that justly may affright me Though with thee in the dark I dwell a space Yet canst thou not eternally benight me Thou art my passage to a glorious place Where shall not be any night My rais'd ashes shall enjoy There an everlasting day And an uneclipsed light I fear not death because of putrefaction Nor if I might would willingly decline it My body gains by 't 't is the graves best action God as a founder melts it to refine it Death cannot annihilate And in despite of the grave Yet I shall a body have Fairer and in better state Gods second work excells his first by ods Our second birth life Adam to repair Our bodies is a second work of Gods To make them better then at first they were Glorious immortall sound Nimble beautifull and so Splendid that from top to toe Not a blemish may be sound What begger weeps when 's rags are thrown away To put on better clothes Who is 't will grieve To pull a rotten house down that it may Be fairer built Why should we not receive Death with both hands when he comes To pull off those rags that hide us To unhouse us and provide us Richer clothes and better homes The griping pangs of Death do not affright My heart at all I have deserved mo And if upon no other terms I might Enjoy my God I to my God would go Through hells self although a throng Of an hundred thousand juries Of the black'st infernall Furies Claw'd me as I went along Nor can those inward terrours make me quake Which Death-beds often on the soul do bring I have no Death-bed-reck'nings for to make 'T was made while I was well and every thing Was dispatch'd before that I Nothing in the world now save Home-desiring longings have Then to do but just to die Nor doth it trouble me that Death will take me From those delights that are enjoy'd below Alas I know that none of them can make me One jote the happier man nor can bestow Any comfort Carnall gladnesse Mirth delight and jolliâ—y This worlds best felicitie All is vanity and madnesse Mere empty husks Had I as many treasures In my possession as the muddiest wretch Did ever cover and as many pleasures As from the creature fleshly men can fetch Had I this or if I were Supreme Monarch onely Lord Of what earth and sea afford Yet I would not settle here To be dissolv'd is better Death doth bring A fairer fortune then it takes away It sets us in a world where every thing Is a happinesse a full and solid joy Not to be conceiv'd before We come thither but the blisse Which exceedeth all is this That there we shall sinne no more Lord grant a copious portion of thy Spirit The more I have of that the lesse I fear What Death can do for sure I shall inherit All joy in heaven if I am holy here Nought suits with heaven but sanctitie Let my God thy Spirit and grace Fit me for that holy place And that holy companie Meditation 5. IF Death will come what do men mean to sinne With so much greedinesse me thinks I see What a sad case the godlesse world is in How fast asleep in her securitie Fearlessely in sinne men live As if Death would never come Or there were no day of doom When they must a reck'ning give Observe a little yonder black-mouth'd swearer How 's tongue with oathes and 〈◊〉 pelts the skies 'T would grieve the heart of any pious hearer But to bear witnesse of his blasphemâ—es He darts wounds at God on high Puts on cursing as his clothes And doth wrap his tongue in oathes To abuse Eternity In law lesse lust the fornicatour fries And longs to slake it 'twixt forbidden 〈◊〉 Ne'r sets the sunne but his adulterous eyes Observes the twilight and his harlot meets That which follows when the night Draws its curtain o'r the air To conceal this goatish pair Modesty forbids to write And I could shew you were it worth the viewing In that room three or foure drunkards reeling In this as many more that sweat with spewing Some that have drunk away their sense and feeling Men of all sorts in their wine And their ale sit domineering Cursing railing roring swearing Under every baser signe 'T is said so vile is this big-belly'd sinne That in a day and lesse some foure or five Of lustie drunken throats will swallow in More then hath kept two families alive A whole forthnight yet made they Merrie with 't Had I my wishes Such gulls should not drink like fishes But their throats should chaÌ„ge their trade The covetous man with his usurious clutches Doth catâ—h and hold fast all the wealth he may He leans on 't as a creeple on his crutches The miser studies nothing night and day But his gain he 's like a
to you Whenever you appear Adorned with your gold and silver-laces Your presence makes the greedi'st eye good chear This consideration In time past was wont to please you Now then Madame let it ease you And afford you consolation The dyâ—ng woman when this speech was done After a grone or two made this replie Doth such a curtain-lecture suit with one That everie houre doth look when she should die 'T is not congruous Wer'st thou able My poore naked soul to dresse With a Saviours righteousnesse This indeed were comfortable But all the rest is not Oh! how I grieve To think upon my former vanitie Alas I feel these toyes cannot relieve Nor ease nor comfort Thus let luxurie Pitch on what it will its joyes Are but painted nor can bring us Ease when pangs of Death do wring us Much lesse can they make our dayes Eternall here Thy servant Lord beseecheth The presence of thy spirit that discovers How vain that carnall joy is which bewitcheth With pleasant poison all her sottish lovers Let not earth-delights forestall me Help thy servant to provide Pleasures that will then abide When thou sendest Death to call me Meditation 2. FArewell those pleasures which the creatures breeâ— These carnall comforts shall be none of mine They slink away in time of greatest need I 'll get me comforts that are more divine Such as God provideth for us By his Spirit and in his word They are such as will afford Joy unspeakable and glorious Unsanctified palates cannot find A relish in Gods service 't is their follie That nothing in it suiteth with their mind That they account religion melancholie And the cause of their misprision Is because they cannot see Things divine for yet they be In their naturall condition But sanctified souls have better eyes Each Person in the sacred Trinitie Sends comfort down and such as farre outvies The best delight that is below the skie Father Sonne and holy Ghost Be it spoke with reverence Seem to strive which shall dispense Blessings that do comfort most The Father as his title often writes Himself a God of peace and consolation He sends me comforts by those sacred lights Which bring me errands from his habitation And so firm and full and free Is each promise in his book That on whichsoe'r I look Blessed comforts I do see So firm that first the hugest hills and mountains Shall dance out of their places stâ—rres shall fall Streams shall run backward to their mother-fountains The earth shall tumble ere he will recall One of 's promises For why And this gives strong consolation In the middest of temptation He 's a God and cannot lie So full that there 's not any thing left out That I could wish What I would have him be God is Would I be compassed about With mercie find relief in miserie Would I by his Spirit be led And have all my sinnes for given And hereafter go to heaven All this God hath promised So free that to deserve that promis'd glory I nothing have but what his mercie gave me 'T is gratis rather then compensatorie Whatever God doth to convert or save me And if any good I do 'T is done by supplies Divine So Gods work and none of mine Grace begins and ends it too What if by nature I was made a sheep And by corruption I am gone astray Whether I think or speak or do or sleep Or wake do ever wander from the way I was set in and am â—oss'd So by lust that my soul wanders Into many by-meanders Like a sillie sheep that 's lost Yet God's my shepherd When his mercy spi'd me Wandring it brought me home and ever since It doth watch over feed defend and guide me And ever will do so till I go hence And hereafter in the even When my latest sand is runne And my pasture here is done It will fold my soul in heaven The Sonne doth comfort 'T was his errand down To preach glad tidings to the meek and turn Their wo to case to earn a glorious crown For sinners and to comfort those that mourn Broken-hearted ones to bind And to set at libertie Pris'ners in captivitie And give eye-sight to the blind There 's comfort in his wounds His sacred stripe Do heal our leprous souls of all their sores 'T is nothing but his pretious bloud that wipes Our guilt away and cancelleth our scores Six times did he shed his bloud And sure our estate did need it That so many times he did it And each drop was for our good Those circumcision-drops of 's infancie Those drops that 's anguish in the garden vented Those drops when he was scourged Jewishly Those drops when 's head with sharpest thorns was tented Those drops when his limbs were nailed To the crosse those when the fierce Souldiers spear his side did pierce Each drop for our good prevailed There 's comfort in his crosse That vile old man That hangs about us to our dying day Is crucified with him that it can Not exercise half of its wonted sway Lessened is its kingly power Surely sinne it struggles so Hath receiv'd a mortall blow And is dying everie houre There 's comfort in his death For us he dy'd For us he felt his Fathers heavie wrath And his impartiall justice satisfi'd And us his alsufficient passion hath Pluck'd from Satan vi armiâ— And his meritorious pain Freed us from sinnes guilt and stain And whatever else might harm us There 's comfort in his resurrection too He rose again that we might be accounted Righteous and just This no man else could do And that our sinnes whose number farre surmounted All the starres that shine in heaven All our hairs and all the sand That lies scattered on the strand For his sake might be forgiven And God the holy Ghost doth comfort bring By speciall office it is his imployment To settle in the soul a lively spring From whence doth issue such a sweet enjoyment Of divine heart-pleasing blisse As the world will not believe Nor can any heart conceive But the heart wherein it is It is this blessed Spirit that doth seal Assurance to my conscience of a share In what God in and through his Sonne doth deal To needy sinners that converted are It assures me of Gods love In the free and full remission Of my sinnes and exhibition Of those joyes that are above Let now the world that 's wont to tell a storie Of strange delights shew me but such a pleasure As to be sure of God and Christ and glory And then I 'll hug it as my choicest treasure Thus each Person of the three Is imploy'd if I do live Holy as I ought to give Joy and comfort unto me Grant a man once to be in Christ and he On sublunarie pleasures soon will trample And yet for pleasures who shews best will vie With all the world give him but one example What gets pleasure and what feeds it Whatsoe'r 'mongst earthly things To
Carnation And coy Adonis particoloured sonne Subject to such a sudden alteration That in a day their fading beauty 's gone This tree this corn and this flower Or what things else vainest are To my self I do compare Who may die within this houre Meditation 2. I 'LL ne'r be proud of beauty if I must Be blemish'd when I die And if the grave Will mix my beauty with the vilest dust What profits pride Reader I 'll pardon crave Here to set you down a story Of as rare and fair a She As the Sunne did ever see Whom Death robb'd of all her glory I once saw Phoebus in his mid-day sline Triumphing like the Sovereigne of the skies Untill two brighter rayes both more divine Outblazed his and they were this Nymphs eyes Forthwith Sol curtain'd his light Looking very red for shame To be vanquish'd by this Dame And did slink out of her sight I once saw silver Cynthia nights fair Queen In her full orb dimming each lesser flame Till this Nymphs beauty-vying front was seen Outshining hers then she look'd wan for shame The man in her knew he how But to quit that giddy place She had so divine a face Would have dwelt upon her brow Once was this woman pleas'd to walk the fields Then proudly fragrant with Dame Flora's store The damask rose unto her beauty yields And was contented to be fair no more Sure I cannot say how truly Yet 'mongst many 't was a fame That the rose did blush for shame And the violet look'd most bluly Once did this woman to the temple go Where doth fair Venus marble-statue lie Cut to the life that one can hardly know But that it lives indeed When she came nigh He who then the temple kept After would be often telling She was so super-excelling That for mad the marble wept Melodious musick 's warbled by the spheres Swans sing their Epitaphs in curious layes Once with a singing Swan a part she bears As soon's those corall doores dismiss'd her voice The poore Swan held his peace and di'd And the spheres as men do say Dumbly move unto this day This was by a rivers side What think you now of such a glorious woman This Phoenix sure was she if any might That might be proud And yet the tongue of no man Can well expresse nor any pen can write What grim death hath done unto her Now she 's of another feature Hardly can you know the creature Stay a while and we will view her Th' almighty King that dwells above in heaven Directs to 's high Shrieve Death a certain writ Wherein a strait imperiall charge was given At 's utmost peril forthwith on sight of it To arrest that piece of beauty And to wrap her up in clay 'Gainst the last great judgement-day Death address'd him to his duty And with great care gives warrant by and by Unto his baillifs Fever Pox and Gout Phrensie Strangury Colick Squinancy Consumption Dropsie and an ugly rout Beside these for to assail her Deaths command was that they must Tie her fast in chains of dust He gave charge that none should bail her You would not think with what a furious pace These catchpoles flie to pull this creature down But Pox was nimblest she got to her face And plow'd it up This hag goes in a gown Rugged and of colour tawny Button'd o're from top to toe Skin-deep beauties deadly foe Uglier hag was never any Fain would the rest have fastned on her too But that this hag had frighted out her soul Now looks her carcase of another hue Grim ugly lothsome ghastly and as foul As did ever eye look on What 's become of that complexion Which held all hearts in subjection In a moment all is gone If we might be so bold to dig the grave Some few years hence where this good woman lies Sure we should find this beauty but a slave To pallid putrefaction and a prize For those silly vermine worms As they crawl in stinking swarms She doth hug them in her arms And doth give them suck by turns Here 's a deformed lump indeed and this Must be the fortune of the fairest face None then are proud but fools They love amisse Whose hearts are chain'd to any thing but grace From the beauty of the skin In the loveliest outward part Lord vouchsafe to turn my heart To love that which is within Meditation 3. IF Death will come sure there will come an end Of all this worlds deep-biting misery Nothing adverse that 's here on earth doth tend Beyond the grave that 's a delivery From the pow'r of men and devils And what-ever other wo May befall us here below Death's a â—helter from all evils Here I am poore my daily drops of sweat Will not maintâ—in my full-stock'd family A dozen hungry children crie for meat And I have none nor will words satisfie Could I give their belly ears 'T were a comfort or could fill Hungry stomacks with good will Or make daily bread of tears Here the oppressour with his griping claws Sits on my skirts my racking land-lord rears Both rent and fine with potent looks he aws Me from mine own Scarce any man but bears In his bosome Ahabs heart Horse-leach-like that 's ever craving Other mens and sick of having Right or wrong will catch a part Here in these clay-built houses sicknesse reigns I have more maladies then I can name Each member of my body hath its pains Moreover weeping groning sadnesse shame Slanders mâ—lancholy fear Discontents disgraces losses And a thousand other crosses Must be born if I live here But these are finite all When I am dead My poverty is ended and my care I heare my samish'd children crie for bread No longer Then I drink I lodge I fare Just as well as Caesar doth There ends cold and nakednesse All my former wretchednesse Death is meat and drink and cloth There 's no face grinding There the mighty cease From troubling there the weary be at rest The servant 's freed the pris'ner is at ease All 's still and quiet no man is oppress'd For incroachers there are none Not a poore man's wronged nor Is his vineyard longed for Every man may keep his own Sicknesse there 's none when-ever Death shall take My body hence and lodge it in the clay I shall not feel a tooth or finger ake Nor any other misery that may In the least degree displease me For all sores the grave hath plasters And it cureth all disasters Of all burdens Death will ease me Malicious tongues fired below in hell There will not hurt me nor the poisonous breath Of whispering detractours I shall dwell Securely in the dust One stroke of Death Sets me out of gun-shot quite Not the deepest piercing tongue Can there do me any wrong Bark they may but cannot bite Lord I am thine and if it be thy will While I do live a stranger here below Brim-high with bitternesse my cup to fill And make me
certain years His yoke seem'd heavy and his people frown'd King sick they were their purpose soon appeare A new King's chosen and the old 's uncrow'nd And for exile this foul beast Giddy variable rude The unconstant multitude Dealt with him as with the rest But that his wiser providence was such When 's banish'd predecessours lived poore What he had sent before was full as much As did exclude want or desire of more There he lacks not any thing He doth purchase towns and fields And what else the countrey yields In estate he 's still a King So shall we fare hereafter in the next As we provide in this life Sure I see A providence in all Who is not vex'd And plung'd and lean with too much industry Men of all sorts runne and ride Sweat and toil and cark and care Get and keep and pinch and spare And all 's done for to provide For to provide what goods and lands and money Honours preferments pleasures wealth and friends As bees in summer-time provide their hony To sublunaries their provision tends And no farther 't is for dust That they labour and thick clay For these goods that will away And for treasures that will rust For to provide for what Their present life That 's naturall their bodies have their care Their spirituall state 's neglected there 's no strife For grace and goodnesse Souls immortall are Living everlastingly In eternall wo or blisse As here our provision is Yet are not a jote set by Men do provide amisse Full well I know it I shall be banish'd from this sinne-smote place All here is fading and I must forgo it What shall I lay up for hereafter grace An unspotted conscience Faith in Christ sobriety Holinesse and honesty These will help when I go hence Strengthen those graces Lord which thou hast given And I shall quickly change both care and love My care for earth into a care for heaven Take off my heart from hence and fix 't above And will lay up all provision For that life which is to come Whilst a stranger that at home I may find a blest condition PART II. Of Deaths impartiality from whose stroke neither Riches Honours Pleasures Friends Youth nor any thing can protect us Sect. I. Riches cannot protect us from the stroke of Death OF richest men in holy writ I read Whose basket whose store the Lord had blest And in the land exceedingly increas'd Their wealthy substance yet they all are dead Riches do not immortalize our nature The richest dyes as well's the poorest creature 'Bove all the wealth of Solomon did passe Ne'r was man master of a greater store He went beyond all Kings that went before Silver as stones and purest gold as brasse Adorn'd Jerusalem a glorious thing Yet death strikes into dust this wealthy King Meditation 1. IF 'gainst Death's stroke my riches cannot arm me Nor comfort me a jote when I am dying I 'll take a care these witches do not harm me Whilst I do live I know they will be trying To do me any mischief as before And now they mischief all the whole world o're Some riches hurt with that old sinne of pride Rich men extremely swell most commonly This sinne and wealth both in one house abide Poore men are loo'kd on with a scornfull eye Strangely is his heart puft up with pride's bellowâ— That hath a fatter fortune then his fellowâ— His words are big looks lofty mind is high He with his purse will needs drive all before him He ever looks for the precedency And vext he is if men do not adore him He bears the sway another man must bâ— If not so rich not half so good as he Some men wealth doth infect with churlishnesse They answer roughly they are crabbed miseâ—s Course bread yields hardest crust This is a dresse Wherewith wealth decks our accidentall risers Since Nabals death a thousand riâ—h men be In every point as very hogs as he Some wealth makes prodigalls there 's no excesse But they runne into Back and belly strive Which shall spend most belly with drunkennesse And gormandizing back for to contrive New stuffs and fashions This excessive crue Have wayes to spend that Dives never knew Observe these Caterpillers One man puts Into his throat a cellar full of drink Another makes a shambles of his guts The back is not behind you would not think How for themselves and for their curious dames One suit of clothes a good fat manour lames Some wealth makes idle like so many droneâ— They suck what others sweat for and do hate All good imployments Many wealthy ones Have neither callings in the Church nor State And during life do nothing day by day But sit to eat and drink and rise to play These mischiefs are in wealth and many more It throws men into many a foolish lust But if Gods bounty multiply my store I 'll drain these 〈◊〉 from 't For when I must Grone on my death-bed these sinnes will displease me And fright my soul but riches cannot case me Lord either keep me poore or make me rich In grace as well as goods my wealth undresse If I have any of those vices which Are wont to clothe it so shall I possesse Riches without those sinnâ—s that riches bring That when death comes they sharpen not hiâ— sting Meditation 2. THough God doth 〈◊〉 me all my time along With best of blâ—ssings make my 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Fill â—ull my 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 my 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 To labour and although his 〈◊〉 give As much to me as to a thousand more Though I am rich and all my neighbours poore Though Fortune fâ—nne me with a courteous wing Though gold be at my back though I have sail'd With prospâ—rous â—ales though not an adverse thing Did 〈◊〉 beâ—de me though I never fail'd Of good succâ—ss in any undertaking Yet am I still one of the common making A piecâ— of â—ust anâ— clay and I may go Ou◠〈◊〉 〈◊〉 God at first made us so He 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 rich mans life but like a span And both 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Death doth strike When they are fallen both alike they lie Both breathlesse noisome livelesse senselesse cold Both like the grasse are withered dead and dâ—ie And both of them are ghastly to behold The ods is this The poore man 'mongst the croud Of buried mortalls hath the coursest shroud Why sinne the foolish sonnes of men for gain Why doth the Land-lord raâ—k the Us'â—er bite Why doth the Judge with bribes his conscience stain Why doth the bauling Lawyer take delight In spinning causes to a needlesse length Untill his clients purse hath lost its strength Why are Gods Ministers become men-pleasers And why are â—atrones simoniaâ—all Why are our Advocaâ—es such nippy teasers Of honest causes why the devil and all Do Misers scrape and why do Tradesmen rear Their price yet sell time â—earer then their ware Sure these bad courses cannot choose but hurt us They makâ— Dâ—aths looks more