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
Wonders of thy Law they cannot finde Thy Will then shewne and hidden in thy Word is hid though shewne from those not prompt by thee Though Camels there may swim and Gnats may ford yet both may drowne if there too bold they be In shallow'st places there great Clarkes haue suncke into the depth of Heresie and drew Whole Nations after them yea made Kings drunke therewith while they Beleeuers-right pursue So then as none could euer see the Sunne but by the Sunne so none can rightly see Thee in thy Word but by reflexion of that pure Light of Lights that comes from thee If so then light me in that Light thy Word sith thou art Light of lights else may mine Eyes Be daz'led and so drowne me in each Ford of those pure Riuers of thy Paradise Thy Word is Truth but those it doth misguide that know not well thy Language nor will know Sith they will learne but of them selues and Pride so not thy Word but they are erring so None can be sau'd without they doe thy Will which none can doe vnlesse the same they know And none can know it much lesse it fulfill if it by speciall grace thou doe not show Then if thou wilt that I shall saued be for thou wilt no mans Death that seekes thy face Let me be taught to know thy Will by thee and made to doe it by thy Pow'r and Grace So shall I finde what I am seeking still To know Thee well and well to doe thy Will An Inuocation against vse of offending or bad Custome DEare Lord while I bethinke me of the Ils that me surround and waigh the Woes I feele Through mine owne fault which me with Sorrow fils from Life to Death I ready am to reele The Sunne of my Care-clouded life hath past his full Meridian and doth now decline To Seas of griefes where Age doth sincke at last and at each breath Death seekes it to define Vse of offending in my passed Dayes doth passe my strēgth to change thogh faine I wold Custome to Nature turn'd my Nature swayes and of my selfe the while I haue no hold Yet if I dye ere so bad vse I leaue my life must leaue me hopelesse at my death For what I giue to GOD I shall receiue and as I spend so shall I yeeld my Breath I minde to mend but still procrastinate for my Familiar Sinne is loth to part And doth my halfe-dead body animate to vse her still so wounds and heales my Heart But sith I am not sure to breath once more and that my life and death are well-neere met And Death t'eternall Weale or woe 's the Doore why sinne I now my lifes Sunne neere is set What is in Sinne that it should so be witch A bitter-sweete if Sweete it be and makes The Body glad but still the Soule to grutch and eu'n from life the vitall-vertue takes The wisest yet that euer breath'd this Aire of Humane Race well tride it to be so Whose equall Wealth and Wisedome did repaire to all in Nature but this Sweete to know And yet he found the Sow'r excell'd the Sweet the Sweet but short the Sow'r surmounting Time Wee want his Meanes his high Delights to meete yet hazard we our soules to them to climbe Lord make me wise by his experience who in great wealth and Wisedome plaid the Foole And for meere Folly was at huge expence then let his follies me still wisely schoole Yea let me learne of Him that all doth teach of whom the wisest learne Sinnes snares to shunne He was a King and Preacher and did preach that All is vanitie beneath the Sunne If all be vaine beneath and true he sayes let me aboue the Sunne seeke true delight Which I shall finde by walking in thy Wayes so thou deare Lord consort me with thy Spright O then consort me so and with his pow'r enable me all lets to ouer-runne Let me not stay one Minute of an How'r to ioy in any thing beneath the Sunne But in thy Sunne of Iustice let me ioy which fils the Heau'ns and Earth with purest light Then let all other ioyes my soule annoy that so in him I may alone delight Thou canst doe this then doubt I not thy Will Which still is good then my good-will fulfill The Sinner refers his Will to Gods will in all things desiring helpe for perseuerance therein DEare Lord and God true Louer of my Soule in my desires I wholy doe resigne vnto thy blessed Will this Will of mine To forme reforme direct and still controule And as my Soule my body moues alone without whose motion it would still be still so let thy Sp'rit still moue my soule and will Else let them haue no motion of their owne Let me forsake my selfe for thy deare sake yea truely hate my selfe for loue of thee and let no pleasures please or profit me If thou deare Lord at them displeasure take I offer vnto thee mine All and more had I much more than All to mortifie my senses and affections that thereby I may so mortifide liue euermore My selfe I likewise offer to the lack of sensible deuotion grace and loue so it may humble me and make me proue Thy might the more in my sinnes vtter wracke I offer too my selfe with prompt desire t' indure all losse in name fame goods and friends all pleasure paine and what else flesh offends That by their waight my sp'rit may mount the higher In summe I offer vp my selfe aboue my selfe to all mischance that can befall saue sinne alone yet if thy goodnesse shall Put me in Hell I le brooke it for thy Loue. And though it be impossible for Flesh to suffer it yet should my Will be prest If thou would'st haue it so in Hell to rest For Loue in quenchlesse flames can sense refresh Then loue me Lord and still my loue enflame then put me where thou wilt I le there abide without repining ire or ghostly pride With Martyrs that in torments laud thy Name But sith by reason of my Flesh too fraile I cannot be so prompt these paines to brooke then help me Lord but with a louing looke And ouer Death and Hell I shall preuaile Looke kindly on me then deare Lord and so Our Wils shall still be one in weale and woe The Sinner desires fruition of the Deitie and that his Soule should be euer the habitation thereof ETernall LORD who art more prompt to heare then Faith to pray of that great grace of thine Regard the Boone I aske in Loue and Feare and to mine humble suite thine eares incline Grant me fruition of thy DEITIE that all my Soule may so be satisfied For lesse then that can her not satisfie though all els boundlesse were still amplifide Those gifts and graces that thy Grace may moue t' inhabit my poore Soule vouchsafe thou me That with thy gifts thy grace may be in Loue and loue my Soule for harbring them and thee But in those gifts
Gods Note-Booke cleane are crost Whose sins are couer'd so with Clemencie that they are hid so seeme they to be lost And blest is he to whom the God of Grace imputes no Sinne for so he shall be cleare How e'er defil'd and in whose sp'rit no base deceit shall once so much as but appeare For while I held my peace that caus'd my Warre for Death with Silence in such passion striues My bodies Props my Bones consumed are while all the day I grone in Sorrowes Giues For day and night thy Hand great God doth lye like Lead vpon my weaknesse who haue bin Conuerted into selfe Calamitie whiles the Thorne prickt me or my stinging sin But lo my faults to thee I haue reueal'd haue not clockt my crimes which thou dost hide But I confesse those Sinnes thou hast conceal'd sith my misdeedes shall so be iustifide Thus shall each pious person pray to thee in fitting time yer Mercies Gate be sparr'd But when the Inundations swelling be of many Waters they from Him are barr'd My fence ô Lord lies onely in thy Hands when troubles me assaile with fiercest woe Then ô preserue me from the impious Bands that me inclose in death to close me so I will saist thou deare Sweete instruct thee still and guide thee in thy way ô homed Words Thine Eye thou saist shall me defend from ill and watch to guard me from my foe-mens Swords Then be ô be not like an Horse or Mule that are as rude as vnintelligent Lord bridle them thy Snafle will not rule till they be rul'd or else be made repent The Plagues are great most great and manifold that doe the Sinner euermore attend But who with Hands oâ— Hope on God layes hold his boundlesse Mercy him will comprehend In Him therefore yee Righteous still be glad for he in Griefe still glads the righteous Soule Exult all ye that for your Sinnes are sad and all true Hearts that stoupe to his controule To God the Father glory be therefore and to the Sonne and their coequall Spirit As it was is and shall be euermore World without end for they are infinite Domine ne in furore Psal. 38. Dauid lying sicke of some grieuous disease acknowledgeth himselfe to be chastised of God for his sinnes and therefore prayeth God to turne away his wrath He vttereth the greatnesse of his griefes by many words and circumstances as wounded with the arrowes of Gods ire forsaken of his friends â—uill intreated of his enemies But in the end with firme confidence he commendeth his cause to God and hopeth for speedy help at his hand LOrd checke me not vntill thy rage be past nor chastise me in thine incensâ—d â—re For in my Flesh thy Shafts are fixed fast and thy Hand quels me that would faine aspire Thy Wrath hath fill'd my Flesh with all annoy for Sinne 's the sore the salue sore-sicknesse is And in my bones I can no rest enioy because their Marrow them hath mou'd amisse For mine ambitious Sinnes climbe o'er my Head and as a breake-necke Burden me oppresse My wounds which they haue made with filth are fed and ranckled sore through my worse foolishnesse I am made crooked vnderneath this loade deform'd and wretched yea it breakes my backe So all the day with griefe I make aboad or mourning goe as those that comfort lacke For ah my Ioynes that lodg'd but Sinne before now harbour nought but restlesse Malady No health is in my flesh for all is sore so sore that anguish makes me roaring cry But Lord thou know'st the Summe of my desires because my Plaints still tell it in thine eares My Heart is vext my strength from me retires nay more mine Eyes are blinded with my teares My friends in shew when thou didst fauour me like foes in deed now me poore me withstand Nay those in bloud that were my neerest be now furthest off and lend nor heart nor hand And they that seeke my life lay Traps to take that life or at the least me to vndoe And but of guile and spoile they euer speake and put in practise what they speake of too But I poore I as deafe would nothing heare for poore Soules must not hear what must offend And as one dumbe I still my selfe did beare that gaue no more reproofes then eare did lend Yet is my hope in thee that hearest all my sighes and grones sith they increase for Sinne. Then let mine Enemies ne'er see my fall who when I doe but trip triumph therein I am at point to perish and my Woes and cause thereof I euer beare in minde For I with griefe confesse mine ouerthrowes that lost thy Grace which now I seeke to finde But still my Foes doe liue and strong are made strong in their friends their places purse and armes And they that hate me causelesse and inuade me forcelesse many be the more my harmes They monsters likewise that doe ill for good oppose me still sith goodnesse I ensue Then haste thee Lord to help me so withstood and leaue me not among this cursed crue To God the Father which we doe adore and to the Sonne and to their blessed Spirit All glory be as it was heretofore is and still shall be through Worlds infinite Miserere mei Deus Psal. 51. When Dauid was rebuked by the Prophet Nathan for his great offences he did not onely acknowledge the same to God with protestation of his naturall corruption and iniquitie but also left a memoriall thereof to his posteritie Therefore first he desireth God to forgiue his sinnes and to renue in him his holy Spirit with promise that he will not be vnmindfull of those great graces Finally fearing lest God would punish the whole Church for his fault he requireth that hee would rather increase his graces toward the same GReat God of Gods whose Mercy is as great haue mercy on me wretch whose Sin exceeds Yet after thy compassion so compleate wash out the blots of my too foule misdeedes O clense me from the filth of mine offence that ranckles in my Conscience all defilde With all that may depraue both Soule and Sense that purg'd I may to thee be reconcil'd For I acknowledge mine iniquitie sith still my Sinne 's the obiect of my sight And by the pow'r of mine impiety I wrong thy grace and still impugne thy Sp'rit Against thee onely I in sinne abide and done what doth condemne me in thy sight That in thy Words thou maist be iustifide and ouercome when thou art iudg'd vnright For nought but wickednesse prepar'd the way to my conception which to worse did passe Then ere I was I stood at sinfull stay and when I fell to Being worser was This Lord is true confessing which doth moue thy Grace to me thy Wisedome hid to show Then sprinckle me with Isop in thy Loue and so I shall be whiter farre than Snow Vnto mine Eares invred but to heare what Eares corrupts thou shalt but Ioy obiect So shall
humble yet each vertuous Wit Should honour Vertue for selfe-benefit And sith Posteritie doth light receiue To runne to Honor by the Lines we leaue From Vertue drawne we should be drawing still The Lines that drawing lead vp Honors Hill The Highest Pow'r and Grace by oath hath vow'd To honour them among the multitude Of Men and Angels that are good then she That was so good of both must honour'd be Celestiall Maide if from the heau'nly Spheare What Mortals doe thou canst or see or heare Be not displeas'd that my vntutor'd Penne Should teach thy praise to teach all Maides and Men The way to Honor nor that in its Mouth That oft doth fable it should take this Truth I was thy Teacher though vnworthy I Might old learne of thee young to liue and die Yet sith it is th' Oblation of my zeale Which I doe offer for the Common-weale In thy deare Memory thou wilt I hope Acquite me from Presumption sith my scope Was but thy glory and the Peoples good Which in great light goe right in likelihood I must confesse a Priest of Phebus late Vpon like Text so well did meditate That with a sinlesse Enuy I doe runne In his Soules Progresse till it all be DONNE But he hath got the start in setting forth Before me in the Trauell of that WORTH And me out-gone in Knowledge eu'ry way Of the Soules Progresse to her finall stay But his sweet Saint did vsher mine therein Most blest in that so he must needs beginne And read vpon the rude Anatomy Of this dead World that now doth putrifie Yet greater Will to this great Enterprise Which in great Matters solely doth suffice He cannot bring than I nor can much lesse Renowne more Worth than is in WORTHINES Such were they both for such a worthy PAIRE Of louely vertuous Maides as good as faeire Selfe Worthinesse can scarse produce sith they Liu'd like Celestiall Spirits immur'd in Clay And if all-powerfull Loue can All performe That in it hath rare Matter or like Forme Then should my Lines haue both so'accomplished As from the Graue to Heauen should draw the Dead Or with hâ—r Taper-pointed-beaming Name Naile her to Heau'n and in Heau'n clench the same Hold Muse no more thou hast too large a scope To proue thy Pinnions for the Heau'nly Coape Infolds no more and take thy leaue anon Of Her thou ne'er shalt leaue to muse vpon Thou maist be tir'd but ne'er canst flye about The Inside of her praise much lesse the out Then stouping here with reuerence griefe and loue Bid her adue and with that bidding moue Thy selfe to teares but if thou canst not so Shew thy selfe willing by the dryest woe For neuer had I greater cause of griefe Sith while she liu'd I ioy'd in painefull life But now am left all solitary-sad To waile her death whose life made Sorrow glad O! had it pleas'd the Heau'ns by their Decree T' haue made my Pupill learn'd t' haue dide of mee And mine example I had beene at rest And she liue blessed long to dye as blest I like a wither'd Pine no fruit produce Of whom there is no Care no hope no vse I burden but the Earth and keepe a place Of one perhaps that should haue greater grace Opprest with Cares that quite crush out the Sappe That feeds my Life now throwne off Natures Lappe I solely sit and tell the saddest houres That euer yet impeached vitall powres Obscur'd by Fate yet made a Marke by fame Whereat fooles often shoote their Bolts in game Yet liue as buried that I learn'd of thee Deare Pupill while the World goes ouer mee Praying for patience still to vnder-ly The heauie waight of this Worlds iniurie Oft haue I beene enbozomed by Lords But all the warmth I found there was but Words And though I scarse did moue yet scarse they would There let me lie though there I lay acold But as I had some biting Vermine bin Out must I mou'd I but for warmth therein Or els so lie as I were better out Sith there I lay as dead yet liu'd in doubt In doubt I should haue nothing but a place In th' outward Roome but of their Idle Grace In doubt black mouths should blot me in their Bookes That make few Schollers and in doubt my Hookes Would hold no longer to hang on ô Griefe This hanging's worse then hanging of a Theefe An Halter loone abridgeth bale and breath But hanging on mens sleeues is double death To hang in hope of that which doubt doth stay Is worse then hanging till the later-DAY Doubt stayes that meede that merit hopes for oft Lest Meede should but make Merit looke aloft Or quite leaue working sith it hath no neede Therefore the great doe still with-hold this Meede For to them selues they say If we should fill The well-deseruing-empty working still They would but rest than well wee 'l them intreat Yet keepe them hungry still to worke for meat Fate but to State this priuiledge affords And but the meane without meanes worke for words Yet worke they must sith Aire the great doe giue For if they haue their hate they cannot liue Their Loue doth little boote but ô their breath Blowes downe in hate a poore Relict to death These miseries I ranne through and did trye These deare Conclusions but in miserie Hoping for that which but my hopes deceiu'd And me of hope and life almost bereau'd Till I to stand from these was faine to fall To serue two Lords that serue me now withall The one immortall th' other mortall is Who serue my turne for what my life doth misse Which for it 's still amisse still misseth that Which makes men gracious and so fortunate But he who knowes all knowes perhaps it's best For me to liue with little in vnrest For neuer since I first could moue had I A better life than those that liuing dye I neuer yet possest one day of ioy That was not lin'd or hem'd with some annoy The Kingly Preacher in his weale found woe But I in thwarts for those alone I know These made me old in youth for Sol had runne Scarse thirty yeeres before my dayes were done And to his course ere fiue more added were Blacke Daies like Nights in gray had dide my Haire Yet neuer Crosse on me so sad did sit As this deare losse whereof this benefit To me acrewes that now each pressing woe Stands farre without this and this keepes them so I say I greatly grieue yet seeme to faine For great griefes neuer greatly could complaine That is when Sorrowes floud the Banckes doth fill It noiselesse runnes and smoothly glideth still But if the Current once the Brimmes get o'er T will roughly runne or stopt will rage and rore But ô that tyrant Time will silence me Before my griefes are vtter'd as they be Farewell then my griefes Cause who wast th' effect Of all the ioy my life did well elect Farewell in Him on whom who sares is
with waight grow higher their flame doth waxe more strong the more it is with-stood Their Spice by pounding yeeldeth sweeter sent and Le ts to Truth are borne downe with this floud Which let abroad doth grow more violent And while it runnes it rores and after cryes For vengeance on their Foes Truths Enemies With Tyrants Thundrings Errours Cloud is crackt th'inclosed light of Truth 's disclosed so And showres of bloud that then for Truth are wrackt makes Martyrs more and more on Earth to grow For still their Side by God himselfe is backt they Sampsons with their Death do quell the foe And most torment him when they most are rackt then good Crosse blessed sheep-crooke Saints stil keep to Christ whose Hooke thou art to catch his Sheepe For as a feate Embroderer that hath a piece of Veluet brackt t'embroder on So drawes his Worke that he to hide the scath embroders richliest in that place alone So GOD vpon the Veluet of our flesh all torne in time of Persecution Couers the Bracks with Beautie faire as fresh So that the other Parts are beautifide By those rent parts by GOD so glorifide And as the Paper-mill of rotten Raggs tane from the Dung-hill by still mauling it Makes so white Paper as the filthy Iagges may now infold the purest part of Wit Or purest things that come from Heart or Hand so we by Martyrdome are made most fit How euer base in glory still to stand And made more apt diuinely to comprise Gods glorious Graces and his Rarities Thogh th'vpper heau'n doth turne by violent sway the lower out of course from East to West Yâ—t of themselues they wheele the other way for they by Nature turne from West to East So thogh from th' East where Truth begins to shine her Foes would force our Faith or course at least To Errors West where Truth doth still decline Yet must we stirre as Grace and Nature moues Vnto the East where God our course approues A Martyr's like a Dye which though it fall this or that way it fals no way amisse It flat will lye or cannot lye at all so Martyrs lye with Truth where ere she is They will lye leuell with the Earth nay more In or aboue it lye or stand for this Hange burne or starue all 's one they feele no sore Then when God throwes at all with them to win At eu'ry throw he drawes some others in Abel he cannot be that is not taught true patience by the malice of a Caine And happy he that like a Cole is caught out of Afflictions fire with God to raigne While he is bright and glowes with Charitie for whether to be white or red in graine The Church were best is vncouth to discry The Churches flowres the Rose nor Lilly want But both adorne and make her triumphant The martyr'd Body of our Lord and God is the main Rock from whence his Saints are hewne For from his flesh they rent are with the Rod and by the rentings of the Rod are knowne To be true flesh of his torne Flesh and so to be his Types by which him selfe is shewne To Heathen-folke that him desire to know O! t is a glory past the height of FAME To be like Christ in suffrings as in name The antient Romaines vs'd their force to trye t' incounter Beares and Lyons and the Scarres That came by sauage Tuskes they valued hye and piercings of their Pawes so many Starres If in vaine-glory they such Dents endur'd what should we doe in Christ our Captaines Warres Be'ing of true glory for our fight assur'd We should with Patience arm'd encounter death And for that gaine with torment lose our breath Shall Saints feare Men whom Angels ought to feare for Saints shall iudge the Angels and the Fâ—end Hath cause to feare them for they rule doe beare ouer his Legions yea his Forces rend The World should likewise feare them sith the Saints shall with heau'ns Vmpier iudge it in the end Than hee that at his threates or torments faints Can be no Saint but must be Iudg'd of them A Coward to foule shame and paines extreame Elias must not feare nor feare disguize to let the Mantle of his flesh to fall To flye in Coach â—lame-wing'd to Paradise Gedeon must breake his earthly Pots sith all Their Light 's so seene to put his foes to flight Ioseph must leaue his Cloake or else he shall Be mou'd to wrong his Maister in his right Life leads to Care but Death to Comfort leads Then Death in Syons cause in Sion treads At Sea decayes the Sailer in his Tent the ventrous Sâ—uldier in the Court decayes The vertuous Courtier Iustice in Iudgement true Faith in Friendship Skill in Arts Assaies In Manners Discipline so we alone that dying liue in these too nightly dayes Vnder the ruines of the World doe grone All is quite or â—erlesse which doth portend The World with vs is euen at an end And ô what should I say when Courage makes the Cause nor good nor bad for Falshoods Friends Haue dide in Errors cause at flaming Stakes as stout as Martyrs in their constant ends Witnesse that Legate sent from Pow'rs beneath who late in Smith-field Error so defends That he out-fac'd Truth men flames dread death And Anabaptists there for Error stood Aâ— stout as those that for truth lost their bloud But Legate though thou canst no answere yeeld yet let me question thee as many doe Question the dead for Error which they held tell me who gaue thy false Faith Courage too That thou for Error should'st so stoutly burne for Error that must needs thy Soule vndoe If on the Coales from it shee did not turne Can Sathan counterfet our GOD so nye In 's Gifts that men for him should stoutly dye But thou might'st answere Faith though false it be yet if the Soule perswaded be it's true Vpon the Heart it worketh morrally as Faith doth which to Heau'nly Truth is due This made the Priests of Baal their flesh to wound and many Indians sense of paine subdue Yea burne with those whose Faith thâ—y hope was sound Then not to suffer much nor Constancy Proues Error Truth which fire 's too cold to trye Then Truth must trye her selfe by Reas'n and Faith but where Faith bids beleeue Reas'n still must be Obedient to beleeue what ere she saith though she say Three are One and One is Three A Maid's a Mother that a Man had wiu'd true God vnmade made true Man really And that the Dead shall rise as here they liu'd All this and more of Faith must Reas'n beleeue But God the Fount of Reas'n this Faith must giue Death is the worst of Ils yet best to those that dye for Faith well tryde and who they be The Conscience of the Dyers neuer knowes if with the Rules of Faith they disagree Then God knowes who are his and Men may know that all are his his â—reest Spirit doth free From life by death
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