Selected quad for the lemma: heaven_n
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A57205
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Jeremiah's contemplations on Jeremiah's lamentations, or, Englands miseries matcht with Sions elegies being described and unfolded in five ensuing sceanes / by Jeremiah Rich.
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Rich, Jeremiah, d. 1660?
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1648
(1648)
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Wing R1342; ESTC R28101
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36,790
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94
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and alas 'T is so indeed how came these things to passe Oh how mine eyes could send a floud of teares To wash this Paper while my deafened eares Are rouz'd with this allarum which is hurld By heavens appointment through the circled world But shall we thinke God is unjust in this To scourge his Children if they do amisse If the wide world had not some sufferings sure The lives of Nations would be too secure Yet heaven's not easily mov'd to send his Rod 'T was Israels sins offended Israels God But if the best of Saints so ill do fare Where shall the crue of damned Sinners share But in eternall darknesse whose black Tombe Shall scare the first but give the last their doome Go on then Sinners plunder kill and spoile Those harmelesse Lambes it is but for a while The time is wondrons short this Inch of time Thou mayst do much thy swelling heart may clime Unto the top of envy and it may Hazzard eternity in a short lived day Perhaps a yeare may finish up thy Course And then thou Son of Beliall death will force Thy soule to long eternity and thou must thither How will thy trembling knees then knock together When thou shalt know Death summons thee to dye With thoughts of torment in Eternity And last of all Is mourning Israels Land So soone subdued by heavens immediate hand Then let not England though the best of three Distempered Lands dreame of security The Nations who possest the aforesaid place Had greater measure of Celestiall grace And yet they were destroy'd can there be peace In Englands Borders unlesse sin doth cease Turne to thy God O England lest his hand Doth overturne the glory of the Land The black mouth'd Swearer he doth rend in sunder His Makers Name with Oaths like claps of thunder The proud mans scornefull eye does hate to see His beggered Neighbour falne in misery The lives of Harlots in their capring Schooles Are kept by young men Natures blinded Fooles The covetous muckworme he himselfe hath sold To live in service to the God of Gold A little after comes his Son and he Throwes all away in prodigality Wonder of wonders why 's not Englands glory As dim as Sion's made a bloudy Story For other Lands to read her downfall why Doth sin survive and yet not England dye Why is not London that was sometimes famous To the wide Universe now held as hainous As was poore Sion ah her sins abound Why dyed she not when she receiv'd a wound In the last fatall War why has this place So much of blessing and so little grace Why doth not fier range in every street Methinkes 'twere just that Sword and Famine meet While War did tumble all our Bulworkes down And strangers get the glory of the Crowne Indeed 't were just it should so while that we Are lull'd asleep in sad security The Prophet here laments his weeping eyes Are washt with teares because the miseries Of Sion was approaching often he Was bath'd in teares for their calamity But we so far from pittying of our Land Thus sunke in sin that with a mighty hand We adde unto her woe by sin and thinke The eye of heaven doth but sit and winke Oh glorious God who art that holy one Lovely in beauty whose most royall Throne Is borne by winged Cherubins most high Where mighty Angels praise thy Majestie What is this microcosmus what are we That thou O Lord shouldst take felicity In weake and feeble man whose borrowed breath Doth every minute journey to his death Why shouldst thou labour with this peece of earth Thus to protect him whose abortive birth Doth but begin his woe yet sleeps secure The Sun the Moone and Starres are too impure In thy most glorious eyes then what is man But a deserver of black Hellican Yet oh our God which art the King of Kings Lord of earths Territories our pleasant things Did all come downe from thee England did flourish When thy Almighty Arme so long did nourish And did so long protect us death and feare Were strangers to our Borders we were deare In thy beloved eyes but ah our woe Was our rebelion and our overthrow Is from our selves our blasted Land had been Counted earths Paradise but that for sin Yet Lord unite the Kingdomes let them be No more a Stage for that dull Tragedie We feare is yet to play Let it once cease And sound us now a harmony of peace One Act is past along oh let thy hand Give to the rest a powerfull countermand And let us now be lead by truth and love Those amorous Sisters which do dwell above And in the Lawes of love let Englands face Be drest with ornaments of blushing grace And then the last of our harmonious Sceanes Shall tell the world what 't is the Gospell meanes Those faithfull labourers in this Vineyard shall Advance the worke with hearts heroicall The Epilogue is joy which ends the Play The Church begins to see a happy day Her steps are lovely sorrowes have their date For love doth conquer envy governe hate CHAP. II. Verse 1. HOw soon is glory dimme the Lord doth shrowd The face of Sion with a darkened cloud His anger darkneth Iudahs borrowed light And her bright glory is as black as night Her beauty is deformed and that eye Where sat enthroned Princely Majesty It quite extinguish'd and the angry hand Or heaven hath spoyl'd the pleasant promis'd Land 2 The Lord hath mixed gall in Iudahs cup And in his fury he hath swallowed up The strength of Sion and her famous City Is turn'd to ashes for he had no pity Upon poore Sion all her holds are humble To his high hand her high battlements tumble To Prince and People folly is imputed And the proud Enemy has the Land polluted 3 The Lord hath cut Ierusalems strength and horne And all the treasure that did once adorne The royall Land of Israel's batter'd downe His countenance he masked with a frowne He hath withdrawne his warlike hand whereby The Campe of Israel made their Enemies flie But now his anger burneth round about The Land of Iacob who can put it out 4 And as an Archer bends his angry Bow To do some ruine suddenly even so He scattereth his Arrows which do vary His right hand threatneth as an Adversary And ev'ry thing on which the curious eye Did take a prospect did by Famine dye The house wherein they call'd upon his name Is levell'd even by a surious flame 5 What wrong can Mortalls do their fury high Is a weake blast but ah mine Enemy Is my offended Lord his wrathfull cup Is powred out and he hath swallowed up My Pallaces and holds are levelled he Hath brought my glory into misery He hath increast my sorrows oh mine eyes Pumpe flouds of teares with silent nightly cries 6 And as a flowred Garden barren made So is his Tabernacle quite decay'd And we are now even as a desolate Nation The Lord hath quite
of good is glory and the hire Of Satans instruments is endlesse fire His worke being done on Earth he shall commence In never dying flames Hels recompence Strike them with dreadfull thunder Lord and flashes Of fearefull Lightning lay on thy lashes Upon their naked shoulders let them see Thy wrath pursues them to eternitie 65 And since they would thy Precepts disannull Lord make them stupid let their braines be dull Let them not see where Truth and Error lyes Give them a deafned care and blinded eyes Give them a sinking soule that may soone faint Make it erroneous hard and obstinant O make their memory loath'd when they shall vade From the worlds prospect like an evening shade 66 Three Acts are past along our bloudie Stage And there is two to come our mournfull Age Is a sad president to all eyes O may Our enemies fall fill up the following Play Now let our enemies act their dismall part Let each foe strike his fellow to the heart So let them dye Lord blast them let them be The Epilogue of our sad Tragedie CONTEMPLATION III. WHat meanes the Joy that Worldlings take on Earth Triumphing in false Glory and vaine Mirth Why are their faces drest with flourisht smiles Of joviall merriment and yet the whiles Their soules doe sinke with sorrow Can they beare The checks of Conscience with so little care What is the Soule asleepe while mortals act Their merry Comedies while they contract Guilt on th' accused Conscience while they lye Rockt in securitie with this Lullaby What meanes the prosp'rous pompe of such a Blade Whose earthly honour may a while perswade The world there is no God the sinners state Doth alway flourish and is fortunate Hee 's deckt with antick Robes of the best fashion He blasphemes Heav'n in each Recreation Looke on the wretch he hath all earthly glories Brave Buildings stately Works Heroick Stories Wrought with laborious Needles where the hand Of curious Art doth give a countermand To the worlds ignorance while Natures eye In looking prayseth Ingenuitie He hath both wealth and wit a warlike arme That 's strong and valiant oft in offring harme High honour great advancement prayse of men And love of Ladies which are offred when The man is full of Money thus he walkes In his vain-glory and he alwayes talkes Of great affaires his Honour doth defie To tell the Truth and yet he hates the Lie Should be returned on him while his face Is a red embleme of sinnes black disgrace Vile wretch how safe thou art while Conscience she Doth lye intombed in obscuritie There is a time for flames or else for feares A time for torments or a time for teares Retire into thy Closet take thy Pen Goe muse on the mortalitie of men Write the disasters that attend the Crowne Of earthly Royaltie goe thou wretch sit downe In thy retired Chamber halfe a day Let Conscience speak and Conscience thus wil say Ah man obdurate man why wast thou borne Into the world or why did Heav'n adorne Thy Soule with immortalitie why did Love Whose rare transcendencie is farre above The worlds desert or reason ever stretch Those sweet imbraces to so vile a wretch To so deform'd a wretch as thou O piece of Clay Didst thou deserve it blinded sinner say What canst thou answer me proud mortall why Thou shouldst not have thy judgement now to die What art thou feeble Earth a little dust What 's Beauties blossome it will quickly rust What is this spacious Universe but a Theame What is mans dignitie but an idle Dreame What is thy wealth a weather-cock of woe And what is honour but mans overthrow And what are all thy friends they passe away Like short-liv'd Actors in a Tragick Play Friends wealth wit honour beautie have no power To save thee from the King of feares one houre Bid now farewell unto those houres whose strife With thriftlesse joy hath spun a wearie life A life of vanitie whose very name Masketh the ornaments of Vertues fame Yet dearest soule returne yet hearke to me Yet be thou mindfull of eternitie Yet heare poore Conscience speak since time almost Hath run his swift-foot houres and thou art lost Did I say lost Ah Soule th' rt happie then If Earth could hide thee in her darkned Den If thou wert lost indeed from Heav'ns bright eye If Death could shade thee in obscuritie If Earth and Sea and Hell and Death should winde thee In their dark shadows yet thy Judge would finde thee And then Oh then the sinner being found How will the eyes of the Almightie wound Thy now condemned Soule while thou before The high Tribunall howling shalt implore Some Rock to over-shadow thee yet deny'd That slender shelter how wilt thou abide Before the dreadfull Throne from whence shall come Thy damned Sentence of eternall Doome And is this all No then thou shalt retire To never-quenched flames of furious fire Whose everlasting fuell shall extend To all eternitie and never end In Hells darke hideous and hollow Vaule Where soules converse with fiends for ev'ry fault There is a sev'rall plague Gluttons are fed With scalding Lead and Brimstone and the dead Besotted Drunkard as he ev'ry day Drunke Healths to Hell to passe the time away So in eternall torment endlesse toyle His throat is washt with quaffes of burning oyle The stubborn Child the wrathfull Furies hold with long-tormenting lashes Th'Usurer drinks whole Draughts of molten Gold And there the cruell Murtherer doth lye Alwayes a stabbing yet can never dye There lyes the Wanton who Loves fire did feele Stretcht upon tort'ring racks of burning Steele Heat by eternall flames blowne with the breaths Of thousand thousands never-dying deaths Then dearest Soule repent 't is not too late To beg for mercie that most glorious Gate Is seldome shut come spend thy after-yeares If thou hast any in repenting teares In true repenting teares bathe oft thy brest Let not thy slumber lull thee to thy rest Till thou hast got a pardon dost thou know How highly glorious is th' overthrow Of Sinne and Death and Hell what royall favour Is in the lovely eyes of such a Saviour What chast imbraces and what sweet communion What rare discoveries what ravisht union What present providence from Earths annoyes What after-evidence of endlesse joyes What wise directions through threatning harmes What safe protections in th' Almightie Armes Of such a blessed Saviour whose sweet b … Gives health in sicknesse and a life in death And this would change thee sinner this ev'n this Would turne thy Closet to a Paradise This sweet Repentance would adorne thy face With Heavens amours and with blushing grace For thy fore-past Rebellion this would give A learned President how thou mightst live To reigne in endlesse glory this would trie If thou dost live before thou com'st to die Reade this third Chapter mark but who they be That Heaven exposeth to calamitie The Prophet here cryes out I am the man Whose back is gall'd with