his strength the Souldier of his valour the Schollar of his learning the Germane gloryes that hee can drinke Wine the Usurer sacrifices to the god of gold the Prodigall to his pleasure and the Lover to his Lady and of all the rest the last is the most deluded making his life laborious while hee is tyred with such unacquainted passions Her frownes or smiles give him an earnest of life or death hee spends his yeares in disquietnesse his moneths in frowardnesse the day in fancies the night in dreames hee tyres his passion corrupts his invention deludes his affection disturbes his rest cracks his braine wearies his bed and breaken his sleepe hee makes earth his heaven pleasure his paradise beauty his felicity and prosperity his glory Poore soule hee knows not that bravery is a vanity that beauty is a vision and love a delusion that as Syrens can inchant so Ladies can allure that extremity attends prodigallity and the greatest temptations the strongest affections that the comliest blossome is the soonest blasted and the sweetest Rose the quickliest withered That poyson lyeth by the sweetest herbe and death is mingled in the fairest bait The deluded Lover stands in his owne light he puts out his owne eyes hee stoppes his owne eares hee is cloathed in darkenesse hee wanders in blindnesse lives in lasciviousnes and dyes in forgetfullnesse while these poore rarities fanne him with silken wings of mildest ayre breathed from a whispering winde Looke back fond Lover thou sure hast dreamed all past is but delusion thy sordid affections deserve not the name of love 't is but a morrall blaze a piece of humane glory a glaunce of beauties bravery a sparke of Cupids candle a flame of Vuicans forge a flash of Natures fire hot in a minute and cold in a moment But Oh Divine Love how much art thou abused How strongly neglected who art chiefely to bee beloved Thou indeed art a bed of Roses a mountaine of Spices a Garden of sweetnesse a Type of blessednesse a Messenger of fullnesse a Mirrour of faithfullnesse with thee there is no respect of persons nor no regard of places thou mindest not vanity nor art deceived by folly Thou strivest not for honour thou lookest not after gaine thou thirstest not for revenge but hopest all things believeth all things indureth all things Thou fillest the soule with vertue with vallour humility fidelity love peace joy patience and perseverance thou art hee that preserveth earth that guideth the Heavens and lest the Universe should returne to its first Chaos thou rulest the unruly Elements thou turnest the spheres and commandest the wandring Planets in their several Orbes And when thou smilest upon the soule thou makest earth resemble heaven deformity become purity and dust immortallity how faire and how lovely art thou oh Love for delights ARe they Ministers of Christ I speake as a fooole I am more in labours more abundant in stripes above measure in prisons more frequent in deaths oft Of the Iewes five times received I forty stripes save one Thrice was I beaten with rods once was I stoned thrice I suffered shipwracke a night and a day I have beene in the deepe In journeying often in perils of waters in perils of robbers in perils by mine owne countreymen in perils by the heathen in perils in the city in perils in the wildernesse in perils in the sea in perils amongst false brethren in wearinesse and painefulnesse in watchings often in hunger and thirst infasting often in cold and nakednesse 2 Corinthians chap. 11. vers 24.25.26.27 The SOULE ANd does the pallas of immortall glory Stand by deaths darkned throne Is this story True that many a fiery dart Is shot to wound the tyred travellers heart And yet before he comes into the armes Of love must conquer death and hells alarms Induring many a storme oh where is he That shall arrive at immort allitie CHRIST What 's he that questions heaven or his power And tyes eternity to a short lived houre By words that darken knowledge Canst thou tell His thoughts of love say wortall doest thou well Is mine arme shortned or do'st thou feare Mine eare is heavy that it cannot heare Or is my truth decayed Doe I require Fond man that thou alone shouldst travell through the fire Except I go before whose power can tame The scorching furnace and the fiery flame Have not I power to save that lockt up hell And conquered death Say mortall dost than well Is man more righteous then his maker why Do'st thou then mourne dry up thy watry eye And read thy way to heaven in this story Go on I 'le crowne thee with a crowne of glory SOULE But ah I am intangled in this vale of teares While I sit downe in sorrow numerous fearet Beset me round such rubs lye in my way I looke for deaths embassage every day In which my heart is faint my fears are full My faith is feeble and my senses dull And Sathan triumphs for no power at all Is in fond man since his rebellious fall How hard a taske how short a time have wee And who can wander to eternitio It is enough oh Lord thou knowst that I Am vanity let me lie down and dye CHRIST What meane these murm'rings that doe pierce mine cares Why faithlesse sonle art thou so full of feares Heaven is not gain'd at every idle breath Love attends labour life is gain'd by death This is a debt eternity will not passe Thy glory earth is like the withering grasse Thy soule is too impure till thou dost pay That debt soul how will mine eys indure this day My soule that once was glorious sin hath stain'd My hands are fetter'd and my feet are chain'd How black hath horror made my darkned face Can Heaven love me now can he embrace Me in his Royall armes can he endure A soule that 's so deform'd that 's so impure It is enough O Lord thou knowst that I Am vanity let me lie downe and dye Alas the least temptation throwes me downe CHRIST Yet soule press forward thou shalt have a Crowne Of endlesse Royalty set on thy head In a victorious Orb. Soule 'T is true the dead That dye in thee are happy they are blest Indeed they slumber in eternall rest But I that have not strength enough to strive Through my disasters how shall I arrive At my desired haven when I read 'T is such a difficult way Christ why I will lead Thee through the sea of sorrow till the Cup Of wrath is passed ore I 'le beare thee up In ever lasting armes do but endeavour To conquer death and thou shalt live for ever As pleasure so is torment transitory Strive and I 'le crown thee with a crown of glory The third SOLILOQUIE YOu trayterous thoughts assault my sence no more oh mine eyes whither doe you wander to what great steppe of pleasure to what great pitch of honour to what illustrate sphere to what coelestiall orbe are you hurried in
well And yonder sits the Larke and turtle dove Come let 's goe walke and we will paralell Love with eternall glory in you Grove Wee 'le take the subtle Fox nor will we spare To hunt the light foot Deere or timerous Hare Come then my love my dove arise my fairest faire V. Rise Phoeb ' and come away thy blinded eye Is lul'd to ruine in dislumbring dreame Why art thou rockt in such a lullaby And drown'd in various wanton streames Come let us travell to eternity And languish in the purest sweet extreames Wherefore my deare so greedy dost thou crowd To danger why to darknesse dost thou shrowd And leave thy love alone wrapt in a sable Cloud VI. Rise Phoeb ' and come away thy short Reposes Are flattring slumbers leave thy slippry hold Of sordid earth come on a bed of Roses I le knit thy haire in knots of fringed gold Wee 'le pusse the flying day in entercloses Of dearest love with glory uncontroul'd I 'le teach thee how to surfet in the fire Of loves immortall flames while some desire To spēa their time in prais thou rather shalt admire VII Rise Phoeb ' and come away we 'le make great Jove To stop his fiery horses swift carere Whose nostrills vomit flames we 'le mount above And hold the Reines of Titans hemisphare sgrove And guide his Chariot wheeles through pleasures And view the hallowea walks Come come my dear Le ts wander to Elizium whose bright ray Out-shines great Phoebus in his new born day Or the most fairest noon rise Phoeb ' and come away The fourth SOLILOQUIE AH Lord thou commandest us to seeke thy face that we may shun death and yet thou sayest none can see thy face and live Ah! let me live that I may know thee or die that I may see thee It is the happinesse of those glorious Angels that they continually behold thee and therefore they incompasse thine Altar with sweet Odours unspeakeable Rhaptures and high Hallelujah's but we poore mortalls prest down with sinne with guilt with flesh with feare cannot worthily praise thee Ah me why doe I seeke thee If thou beest no where absent why doe I not finde thee if thou beest every where present sure to the eye of darknesse thou wrappest thy selfe in thicke darkenes and thou art discovered to the eye that is enlightned thou art seene in thy power to sinners in thy terrour to Sathan in thy Sonne to thy Saints thou art seene in thy judgement to them that are against thee in thy Justice to them that flye from thee in thy Sacraments to them that seeke thee in thy Lawes to them that love thee and in thy Love to them that know thee Whence proceedeth this thy condiscention and thine infinite humiliation that thou did'st leave thy Throne in Heaven to live in the forme of a servant on earth Why didst thou change thy Crowne of Royalty for a Crowne of Indignity Why should aninfinite Creatour love a finite Creature and Heaven stoope to Hell Alas oh Lord Jesus heere was no Royall Throne for thy Majesty no Glorious Temple to entertaine thee heere was no winged Cherubins to beare thee no Armies of Angells to stand before thee no sweete faced object to delight thine eyes no musicall Raptures to salute thine eares no costly odours to annoynt thy feete nor spangled Canopy to spread over thy head but sinne and shame guilt and feare hell and horrour blacknesse and darkenesse extremity poverty impurity deformity and canst thou love so poore a thing as man oh thou that inhabitest in Heaven in light inaccessible in glory incomprehensible who canst with a frowne overturne thine enemies fame and by their ruine purchase thy selfe glory and if the World should totally revolt from thee and set her selfe against thee Couldst thou not command a suddaine clap of thunder to spurne her from her Poles shake her from her Center crack her Axeltrees and breake her Chariot wheeles Couldst thou not let loose the Elements that the Heavens should bee hid in blacknesse and the Sunne should bee cloathed in darkenesse that the Waters should drowne the earth and the fire should devoure the aire or with an angry breath couldst thou not puffe them all away that earth and ayre and water and fire should vanish and the world should be no more and in the roome thereof create in a moment to perfect thy praises ten thousand severall Orbes Why then oh man art thou so much deluded Why is Heaven and his sweet invitations so much disregarded sure there bee foure dayes in which thou wilt call thy selfe foole for neglecting so great salvation And they be these The day of publick calamity The day of private extreamity The day of death The day of doome First in the day of publick calamity if the world should bee governed in blacknesse and darkeneste If natures fabrick should bee smitten if the powers of the world should bee shaken if the waters should bee loosed if the fire should bee kindled if the ayre should bee infected if the earth should bee poysoned if the sword should begin to range againe and thou shouldst see thousands of mangled bodies about the streets if the trumpets should sound the alarum of war againe and the drums beat dolefull funeralls for the souldiers if whisling bullets and fiery granadoes should fall like haile on the earth and roare like the thunderclaps in heaven if every mans sword should bee set against his fellow if the earth should bee paved with dead mens bones and the channels run downe with blood if this flourishing Kingdome should bee made a burnt offering her people lye beeding like a new slain sacrifice where then couldst thou finde a chamber to hide thee in but in thy beloveds armes and under the shaddow of his mighty wings when the Lord comes to make inquisition for blood and his fury shall breake out in fiery flames to lick up the sinners of the world then will Jesus Christ bee as a shadowed grove in a thundering storme as a cooling rock in a scorching day and a fountaine of water in a weary land when the worldling shall loose his anchor of hope and suffer shipwrack thou shalt safely bee set a shoare If the famine should run after the sword the stoutest heart should grow faint and the fairest face should begin to wax pale because of pining hunger If the pestilence should follow famine if terrour should walke in darkenesse and the arrowes of the Almighty fly at noone day if a thousand should fall on thy right hand and ten thousand on thy left hand and thou beginnest to feare because of the evill that is come upon the world who then can protect thee that judgements may not touch thee but Jesus Christ Tell mee then hath hee not cause to bee beloved would hee not bee worthy to bee desired Secondly in the day of private extremity when thine eyes shall bee opened and thy heart shall bee awaked when thy minde shall bee troubled
31. vers 13 14 15 16 17. Come thou prophane Sabbath breaker thou findest fault of the shortnesse of thy time I tell thee ere long thy time shall be cut away the candle thou now dost waste in pleasure thou wilt hereafter begge to spend in prayer what thou wretch if thy God had required six dayes in the weeke to sanctifie his name and celebrate his praise how wouldest thou have done that if thou canst not give him one in seven Goe sordid earth imbalme thy self in tears thou knowest not what felicity the godly take in this dayes progresse while they travell through the coelestiall Groves and while they wander through the faire Elizium walkes aspiring beyond the reach of this unworthy earth to change their hourely entercourse of love with Heaven whose service is perfect freedome redemption from slavery and a path way to glory every dayes progresse sends thee nearer to eternity and thou makest but a few Sabbath dayes journey towards Heaven why tell me whither doest thou wander Is it because there is no God in Israel that thou servest the god of Ekron or because thou hast dined on earth wilt thou now goe sup in hell away blind man thou runnest to thy ruine retire a while to thy forgotten selfe and reckon how fast thy winged houres flie away Ah Lord thy Sabbaths in former ages have been celebrated to thy praise when thy people spake often one to another to thy glory when the morning starres sang together and all the sonnes of God shouted for joy thy Saints in former ages upon thy holy day have met to offer up their perfumed oblations and dayly sacrifices to thee who dwellest between the Cherubins but now the beauty of Israell is gone from the high places Oh how are the mighty falne tell mee thou wretch that sayest when will the Sabbath be over that we may sell our Corne and Wine and Oyle that we may put on our gallant apparrell and heape up bags of gold what gaine is in riches what beauty in bravery what profit in pleasure what glory in honour thy riches are but poverty thy beauty deformity thy pleasure a penalty thine honour slavery therefore foole thy selfe no more by omitting thy duty and robbing heaven of his glory lest thou beest strucke with leaprosie like Miriam lest thou beest swallowed up like Corah Dathan and Abiram lest thou art consumed with fire like the sonnes of Aron lest thou hast a shower of stones like Akan or art shot with an arrow from heaven like Julian lest thou beest lopt from the Vine and cut from the earth and shut out of Heaven and flung into Hell lest thy possession be made a desolation and thy memory perish from the earth for want of a memory Sixthly the swearer is a barren Branch Ye shall not sweare by my Name falsly neither shalt thou prophane the name of thy God I am the Lord. Levit. 19. vers 12. Thou prophane Wretch that with thy breath infectest the aire and with thy body burdenest the earth and with thy heart dost blaspheme heaven what became of the prophane Rabshekah or the blasphemous Senacherib that with their tongues sounded such thunderclaps in fearefull Israells ears but when their lips upbraided the God of Heaven how soon did he bow their proud imperious necks and layd their glory groveling in the ground thou black mouth'd swearer that with a flash of Oathes doest exalt thy selfe to Heaven I tell thee ere long thou shalt be spurned downe to Hell thy life seemes yet a merry Comedy but thou knowest not how soone thou shalt speake the last sceane which being done thou shalt exit to the attiring roome of earth and undresse thee in the silent grave thou foule mouth'd swearer thou faine wouldst be accounted a Christian yet livest more deboyster then the Heathen Come if thou art a Christian trye thy Copy by thy Saviours President and see how thou obeyest his command But I say unto you sweare not at all neither by Heaven for it is Gods throne nor by earth for it is his footstoole nether by Hierusalem for it is she City of the great King Neither shalt thou sweare by thy head because thou canst not make one haire white or blacke But let your communication be Yea yea Nay nay for whatsoever is more then these commeth of evill Matthew 5. vers 34 35 36 37. Poore man thou art so far from dishonouring thy God by this that by thy Ruine he will purchase himselfe glory as the Traveller that spits against the winde hath it blowne in his face so thou that with thy breath blasphemest heaven blowest but the fire of Hell which shall torment thee to eternity thou that doest waste thy time in trifles and thy dayes in a dreame thou art at the best but a piece of perjury and a flash of vanity that walkest by the light of thine owne fire and the sparkes thou hast kindled This is the portion thou shalt have from the hand of Heaven thou shalt lie downe in sorrow Seventhly the covetous man is a barren Branch and shall be cut from the Vine What 's hee that so prophanes all purity and scornes the power that others doe adore that curseth his Tapour for burning so fast his provision for spending too soone his houres for flying too swift and his purse for filling too slow Thou groveling worldling that Viper-like doest teare thy Mothers wombe and off rest sacrifice to the god of gold that art as pollitick as Achitophell as proud as painted Jezebell as churlish as Naball as swift as Asahell hadst thou the pollicy of Vlysses the strength of Hercules the beauty of Adonis the wealth of great Nilus or the gold of rich Tagus thou art but a house of clay and thy foundation is in the Dust Neverthelesse man being in honour abideth not he is like the beasts that perish Psalme 49. verse 12. The time is comming when delicates shall not be delightfull life shall not be desirable pleasure shall be painefull Riches unprofitable death unavoydable and eternity most terrible when thou shalt finde evidences enough for earth but no assurance for Heaven then it may be thou wouldst give ten thousand pounds for a share in Jesus Christ but Jesus Christ makes no such bargaine Dives had not been in Hell if his money would have purchast heaven but then thy Riches shall take to themselves wings and flye away thou knowest not how soone thou mayest come to thy journeyes end when thou shalt bee deposed from thy glory like Nebuchadnezar Dan. 4 30. or slaine in the midst of thy gold and mirth like drunken Belshazzer or lye in the cold like poore Lazarus or bee kickt into Hell like rich Dives go view the Monuments of thy Fathers where lyes the Crowne of Shyhon King of the Amorices and Ogge the King of Bashan Where bee the Perizites the Jebusites or the Children of the East or Zeba or Zelmunna Where is the Tower of Babylon the sometimes glorious Caanan the
a distracted dreame while all your golden imaginations vanish into aire What is the silver Mine what is the golden Ore what is the worlds dignity what is beauties rarity what is the pride of pleasure what is a blast of honour the first is vexation the second delusion the third a distraction the fourth brings the worldling to a fooles paradice and hee that hath the last is but a glorious slave Mee thinkes as when the Gyants warred against heaven and with their imperious lookes threatned the Palace of Olimpick Jove till from his golden sphere hee lasht their folly and puft out their bravery by hurling against their mountaines hasty thunderbolts from his angry arme even so the worlds Peacocks children of transgression sonnes of Rebellion the pride of nature and the scorne of art befooled in folly besotted in security sinne in dispite of heaven till with his angry breath hee sweepes them from the world laying their glory groveling in the silent grave Poore heaven borne soule no winde blowes faire for thee but all thy life is a continued ill thou art borne in a tempest and art hurryed through a storme while thou wandrest through this vale of teares and while thou saylest through this red sea of sorrow so have I seene a weather-beaten vessell torne by the fury of the surges tost from wave to wave by the confused mellody of threatning scas roaring windes fiery flashes horrid thunder and the darkened ayre continually in restlesse motion sometimes by an angry billow flung up to heaven and in a moment plunging downe againe seemes to bee swallowed in the furious Ocean as if nature to set forth the rarity of union who would shew to man the harmony of confused elements Art thou a child of heaven thou shalt bee then a sonne of sorrow thinke not too much to suffer if thou makest account to Reigne if thou wilt have a Crowne of Royalty be patient in suffring adversity The way to heaven is through a fiery Lake thy treasure shal be torment thy wealth shall be want thy portion poverty thy beauty deformity Thy adoption fore-runs thy extremity and thy conversion is a Prologue to a following Tragedy The World indeed is full of deceit nor will she favour any but her owne and on them she confers pleasures and profits honour preferment beauty glory wealth and case She sets them on her idle knee and charmes the Worldling to a glorious slumber While the godly sits all day dispised disgrac'd afflicted tormented with his watry eyes bent on the Earth and his silent groanes piercing heaven the unfrequented places are his delight and the melancholliest passions are his best musique In which the poore soule mutters to himself these or the like speeches SOULE Ah me how am I hurried to and fro in the valley of this shaddow of death how am I tossed from misery to adversity from trouble to torment from temptation to affliction my life is almost spent and what will the Lord do with mee if hee doe with me what he please if he throw mee into hell I will lay my hand upon my mouth and be silent for ever for I have been unthankfull unholy unfruitfull unprofitable discourtious disloyall ungratious rebellious But will the Lord be angry for ever and hath hee forgotten to bee gracious or is his loving kindnesse quite decayed My Lord Jesus Christ he is gone to Heaven where he is crowned in Majesty and glory and every day he takes one or another after him And heere he leaves me to feede on Wormewood and drinke the poyson of Aspes Alas poor soule what findest thou what knowest thou what seest thou in this vaine world is not her beauty momentany and all her glory transitory Why was I borne to be an object of cruelty a Map of misery the mockery of Art the scorne of nature or being borne why died I not in my sad mothers arms Well soule lament no more wait but a while and thy sorrow shall be converted into joy thy mourning into praising thy emptinesse into fullnesse thy low poverty into high dignity thy short suffering of the worlds hate to the embraces of eternall love thy time to eternity thy misery into glory Alas the joy of the wicked is as the thornes in the fire the bubble in the water the flowers in the earth the Clouds in the Aire they blaze and consume they flourish and fade they vanish and fly away but thou for a few angry frownes shalt have everlasting joyes for earths indignity shalt weare the Robes of Royalty and for a moments heavinesse shalt be crowned in eternall happinesse Though here thou walkest sadly and drivest on heavily piercing the aire with thy sighes and watering thy cheeks with thy teares mourning and weeping for the absence of thy beloved when he hath withdrawne himselfe and is gone Yet hold up thy head with joy for thy redemption draweth neare Thou shalt meet him in Elisium and arme in arme walke through the hallowed Courts and change a thousand kisses canst thou not tarry a little time canst thou not persevere a minute canst thou not suffer a moment canst thou not watch one houre would it not bee worth thy paines if after all thy troubles on earth to arive at heaven there the poore Pilgrimme may rest his tyred limbes in the sweet lullabies of ever blessed eternity where there is joy without sorrow health without sicknesse wealth without want fulnesse without famine love without labour life without death Arise my Love my Dove my faire one and come away Canticles 2. vers 13. The AUTHOR I. GOe tired Mariner go hoyst up sayle The weather will no more be contrary The winde blowes prosperous with a pleasant Gale The angry aire ne more will vary The heavens are faire thy journey cannot faile Vp weather-heaten Voyager why dost tarry Where safer O! where safer canst thou be Then in so sweet an arme soule this is he Whose power uncurls the wav's calms the furious sea CHRIST II. Rise Phoeb and come away the head-strong day Rides in his glorious Orb the night is gone The slowers appeare the little Lambes doe play And glittering Sol does kisse the torrid zone The carelesse wandring flocks are gone astray Vpon the hills and love is lest alone Come lye in my soft bosome where no feare Can break thy dreame why doest thou flumber here Awake my purest Love arise my fairest Deare III. Rise Phoeb ' and come away this Sun-shine morn We 'le travell through the fairest teritories Where in some flowry Garden I 'le adorne Thy brow with love I 'le tell thee what those glories Are that crown eternity I will not scorne To tell my suffrings and my passion stories Let me infold thee in my loving armes If thou wilt rest secure from numerous harmes Arise my fairest dear love strikes his lowd alarms IV. Rise Phoeb ' and come away how sweet a smell Comes from th' Arabian hills my pritty Love The little birds warble their musique
wavering Aegyptians the warlick Philistines Doe not they sleepe in the dust Thou knowest not how soone thou mayest bee gathered to thy Fathers The Earth in the Spring time puts on her mantle of greene to entertaine her Lover Phoebus but when the golden Chariot of the Sunne is fled to the Southerne World the Earth puts on her mourning withered weede the Moone shines fairely for some certaine nights but when time hath turned her from her silver throne shee resignes her glory to the following day The blazing candle for a time shines cleare but having past the age of a short lived houre it glimmers a while and dyes the glorious Lilly that is drest in such bravery is in a day disroabed of its glory and turned to withered Hay there is no such thing as a continuance heere though thou flourâ—â—◠〈◊〉 〈◊〉 greene Bay-tree yet thou shalt perish like a withered weede For evill doers shall bee cut off but those that waite upon the Lord they shall inherite the Earth For yet a little while and the wicked shall not bee yea thou shalt diligently consider his place and it shall not be Ps 37. v. 9.10 Eightly the hypocrite is a barren branch Go march among thy fellowes painted earth and then sometimes retreate and yet march on againe thou lookest indeede to Heaven but thou travellest to Hell Go on yet know false Absolon 't is not thy beauty that can save thee no Judas 't is not a dissembling kisse shall secure thee no Simon Magus 't is not thy money shall redeeme thee thou art as various as the windes as dissembling as the seas as deceitfull as the grave as darke as hell as vile as villany as gracelesse as impurity and as black as horrour can see it selfe in the blackest glasse Thou washest thy hands indeed but thy heart is defiled thou trimmest thy body but thy soule is deformed honey indeede is in thy lips but thy tongue is poysoned well foole thy selfe no more though thou doest blinde the World thou canst not hide thy selfe from Heaven Psalm 94.8.9.10 Hee that planted the eare shall hee not heare Hee that formed the eye shall hee not see Oh yee fooles when will yee bee wise Hee that teacheth man knowledge shall hee not know Though thou hast the speech of Jacob thou hast the hands of Esau thou hast the devotion of Abel but the dissimulation of Achitophel the mantle of Elias but the hypocrisie of Judas thou hast fidelity in thy wordes but impurity in thy deeds a heaven in thy mouth but a hell in thy heart and though thou do'st prosper while blinded man adores thee yet thou shalt perish when God shall come to judge thee It is not thy smooth language nor thy Syrean tongue can take in Heavens eares no 't is not a painted face nor a garment of gold that dazeleth Christs eyes that did delude the yong man that Solomon entitles foole Prov. 7 vers 8. 'T is thy heart that God pondereth and as the Sunne of Heaven will show thee the foulenesse of the house so the Sonne of glory with his all descerning eye will soone discover the blacknesse of the heart though to the world thou seemest a piece of purity a flash of fidelity a gloriou star a glittring spheare yet to Heavens eye thou wilt appeare but an Heire of Hell a childe of darkenesse a servant of sinne a sonne of shame and thou that hast so often deluded others in thy life shalt deceive thy self at thy death and thy departing soule shall but exchange misery for mortallity though by thy actions the deluded world shall thinke thou art transported into glory And shall our story have a period heere And shall wee vaile our subject with a blanck Shall wee present to the Reader the black and darke night and draw a Curtaine before the shining day Shall wee discover the barren branches that are in the Vineyard and wrap a black cloud about the lofty flourisht Vine No though many have the marke of the Beast yet some are loyall to the Lambe though there bee thousands doe bow their knees to Baall Yet there is a remnant doe humble their hearts to heaven though there bee a seed of falling Adam yet there is a generation of faithfull Abraham though many are not Israelits yet all are not Sodomites among the thousands that shall perish there is a remnant that shall flourish whose united beauty shall make one glorious body And this is shee that looketh forth as the Morning faire as the Moone cleare as the Sunne terrible as an Army with Banners Cantie 6. vers 10. whose heroicke heads looke higher then this inferior World who are not drowned in the dirt of earth but watered with the dew of Heaven who are not branches of infamy but clusters layd up to inherite glory And indeed believerâ— you have done well while you have made so faire a choyce though you suffer here a little paine hereafter you shall have endlesse pleasure though ye have had a time of heavinesse ye shall have heereafter eternall happynesse though ye have had tokens of infamy yee shall bee adorned with Robes of glory though you have beene acquainted with the terrour of the Crosse yee shall bee required with the glory of the Crowne Alas how momentany are the pleasures of the World What is heere to bee desired Nay rather what is there not heere that may well be quickly loathed Is it honour That is but a blast that will deceive thee Is it dignity That is but a dreame that will delude thee Is it beauty That is but a shaddow that will inslave thee Is it credit That is but flattery that will befoole thee Is it wealth That will take wings and quickly flye from thee Come then let us get up early in the Vineyards Let us see if the Vine flourish if the tender Grapes appeare or the Pomgranats bud forth Can. 2. I am sure if the hand that planted you did not protect you your fruit would bee blasted and your blossome would bee withered How soone would your honour turne to disgrace your credit to shame your beauty into vanity your affection to delusion your winde of wealth to a weather-cock of woe your full sea of plenty to an ebbing tide of poverty Did not the Vine flourish How soone would you poore branches perish Did not the head finde power to stand how soone would you the weaker members fall I thinke the World can better subsist without the Sunne then you without a Saviour if the Sunne were gone would not the forsaken Universe put on a mantle of mourning Would not the World returne to her first confused Chaos Would not all our Chariot wheeles drive on heavily Would not our actions prosper slowly The Philosophers say wee are beholding to the Sunne for all secondary causes and Divines affirme wee are ingaged to our Saviour for his secret cares while you bring forth the fruits of the spirit which is not Rebellion but Humiliation not expressions