doth play One dyes with Sicknesse Thought another kils With Hunger this with Thirst that man doth pine Some Water choakes an Halter others spils Some Fire consumes some Beasts deuoure in fine This man he murders with the ruthlesse Sword That man with Poyson he doth suffocate With Bullet this that with a bitter Word He ends and others end with worser Fate No Flesh though fram'd in height of Natures skill With composition more then halfe diuine But it is subiect made to death vntill Th' Immortall doe that mortall flesh refine Thus all he ends yet none their ends fore-know A secret t' is to Death himselfe vnknowne Whom he must strike thy finger Lord must show Nor dares he shoot til thou the Mark hast showne To some he is thy mercies Minister To other some the Engine of thy wrath This sadnesse to my Soule doth minister For bleeding Conscience many faintings hath But wash the same with thy sweet mercies dewe And it annoint with vnction spirituall Then health and rest and peace shall straight ensue Which to my Conscience will be cordiall I haue discourst to thine all-hearing Eares My dismall plight in dolefull Elegie With Tragick accents accents causing teares Sad teares attending matchlesse misery Thy pitties Eare therefore bowe downe O Lord To these most pensiue and most iust complaints Let mercies Eyes with pitties Eares accord To chear the conscience that with bleeding faints In hope were of my soule shall rest in peace Till thou vouchsafe to send her full release A Confession of a Sinner acknowledging the misery of humane frailtie CElestiall Lord Creator of this ALL Embracer Prop and Ruler of the same Whose vnseene Eye beholds the generall And singly seest at once this double Frame O vaile that Christall-cleere all-seeing eye On vtter-darknesse that Lord that am I. Mine Intellect is darke darke my soules sight My body darke darke dungeon of my soule Is opposite for darknesse to thy light What can be darker or more vgly foule Thus darknesse striuing much more darke to be Hell being too light infus'd it selfe in me O Iustice Sunne with Taper pointed beames Dart through this Darknesse open loopes for light By which the influence of thy lights leames Through my darke soule may be dispersed quight For what is that which extreame darknes cleares But extreame light of lights when it appeares Where extreame darknesse harbours there is Hell In me deare Lord of Heauen that hell is plac't My heart hard hart wherein all horrors dwell With vexing thoughts like Fiends away doth wast My Conscience quite confounded with my misse Is lowest Hell where highest Anguish is Descend sweet Christ and harrow with thy Crosse This hell of Conscience flee my soule from thence It is thine owne deare Lord it is thy losse If it doe perish through my sinnes offence Why sinne is nothing then for thing of nought Lose not my soule poore purchase dearly boght In Deaths dark shade o'er-shadowed with my sinne Vpon the black pit brinck of deepe Despaire I lye deare Lord halfe out but more halfe in Help help ô help Lord heare Lord heare my prayer Now now ô now if euer help me now I sincke I sincke help ere I sincke too low Remember Lord Lord call to minde againe The drops strange drops of Water mixt with Bloud Which from thy paine-prest Body ranne amaine What time on ground it lay in pensiue moode If then thou praid'st that Cup might passe froÌ„ thee I well may pray let this Cup passe from mee A Cup of cares confected by sowre sinne Baning my Soule with bitter operation Let this Cup passe before I doe beginne Least it effect my crazed soules damnation O thou that felt'st fraile mans infirmitie Respect fraile Me else in despaire I die Whose Faith too like a feather in the winde Is tossed with the least temptations blast With doubtings daunted when the faithfull finde A calme in conscience till such stormes are past But I vile wretch am tossed to and fro With eu'ry Storme that rise or Blast that blow See Lord ah see see see how all my Veynes Do pant with paine through sense of my misdeedes Behold my Heart wherein all sorrow raignes Griefe-wounded heart behold it how it bleedes O poure therein thy precious Balmes of grace That from thy wounded Heart doe runne apace Where 's Much forgiu'n Loue must there be much Forgiue me Much much more shall be my loueâ— I haue Much to forgiue no sinner such My Sinne surmounting Loue shall be aboue Forgiue me then and I in Loue will striue To match that more then Much thou dost forgiue Be thou for me vnto the Old of dayes My Daysman so to stay his angers heate That for thy sake he would vouchsafe to raise His vengeance siege which my Soules wrack doth threat O tel him to his Grace I weakling yeeld And giue him praise and glory of the Field O pray him bend his pu'sance on the proud Whose brazen Necks will rather breake then bowe I creeping on my knees doe seeke for shrowde Till Tempests of his fury ouer-blow And like a Spaniell at his Maisters threat In humble wise fall prostrate at his feete With eyes vp-lifted slowly by degrees And lifted so are throwne downe straight againe With face confounded on his humbled knees Inuoking mercy yet doth mute remaine O so euen so doe I poore wretched I At foote but of his Foote-stoole crowching lye If this may moue and mouing may prouoke Thy sans-beginning Sire in Loue to stay Of his iust vengeance the resistlesse stroke A touch whereof doth Rockes to poâ—der bray I will ascribe the praise ô Christ to thee Sith for thy sake alone he spareth me My strength 's not stony nor my flesh yet brasse O no then weaknesse much more weake it is Apt still to fall more brittle farre then glasse Compos'd of that that 's more then most amisse O how vnable then am I to beare His heauy vengeance stroke that rocks doth teare With hands of Mercie stay my sincking Soule Which were in mercy mercilesly wounded For me vile wretch and for my trespasse foule That Grace might o'er abound where Sin abounded They are not shortned since they racked were For Sinne that Sinne might sinnelesse so appeare With those same hands deare Lord my Soule sustain Opprest with Poâ—se that made thy man-hood grone My load 's as great though farre lesse be my paine Whose sinne 's as great as all the worlds alone Then Worlds of Sin when on my backe I beare What meruell is 't I faint if not despaire Froth of Infirmitie and Weaknesse skumme I am no other how then should I beare The heauy sentence of true Iustice doome If to this Load of Sinne it added were None but a God and Man can beare that waight Sith God Man bow'd vnder-neath that fraight I am farre spent ô be not farre from me I panting labour neere the latest gaspe My Soule dismai'd not knowing where to flee With hands of Hope wan
thou and who am I that can moue Heau'ns God t'immure himselfe in misery That thou whose Glory Glory it selfe admires Sholdst deigne to dwel in durt more vile then dung Sith Holinesse sweet Lord thy House requires Which hardly rests where many vices throng Heau'n is thy Seate the Earth thy Footstoole is For Heau'n and Earth thy Maiestie doth fill Then why great God art thou well pleas'd with this That thou art made but Mud for mire so ill For if the Heau'n nay Heau'n of Heauens be But too too small thy greatnesse to containe Then how can my heart lesse then nought hold thee How in a Bit of Wormes-meate canst thou raigne O Wonder that all Maruels farre surmounts He that vpon the Cherubins doth ride And viewes all Deeps from thence himself dismounts That he may in my Heart deepe Hell abide It not suffiz'd thy glowing Charitie To giue me Angels for my Guards and Guides Nay wast not onely pleas'd for me to dye But dwelst in me to giue me life besides There dost thou visit in the kindest kinde The Sicke sore sicke to giue him health thereby Sore sick in Body but more sicke in Minde And raise the Dead that willingly did dye My Soule exulteth with ioy rauished When as I minde that Miracle how once A Prophets dead Bones rais'd to life the Dead Onely by touching those life-giuing Bones If those dead Bones had such reuiuing pow'r Then what shall not Gods liuing Body doe The liuing Body of Lifes Gouernour Must needes giue endlesse Life and Glory too And if dead Bones conceiued in Sinne haue might To giue life to a sinfull Bodie dead What shall that doe conceiued by thy Spirit That must needs life-inspire eu'n senselesse Bread My Soule though dead in Sinne yet touching Thee By Faith and in thy bloud being sanctifide Can it but more then liue in Thee and me When Thou therein dost more then still abide And sith that Corpes was rais'd that crau'd not life By touching those dead Bones then Lord let me That as my Husband clip thee as thy Wise Be rais'd to life that beg the same of thee I cannot thinke because I thinke of thee as more then Grace it selfe that thou hast borne My sinnes and in my sinnes dost beare with mee that of thy Grace I shall be quite forlorne O! can my Soule but melt to thinke how oft thou mightst haue slaine me yet didst vse thy knife To prune and make me grow in Grace aloft and â—lu'st my Foes therewith that sought my life How many thousand Soules now burne in Hell that haue perhaps sinn'd lesse then sinfull I Who held thy Hands when I did so rebell that I should liue when Soules lesse sinfull dye My sinnes cry to thee and thou stop'st thine Eares lest thou sholdst heare them the more they cry The more thy deafenesse to them still appeares as if thou didst their clamorous suite deny I doe but sinne and thou dost me but saue if I flye fast from thee thou followest faster Though I be tir'd with Sinne thy Mercies haue no meane to tire but meanes my Sinnes to master The more I sinne the more thou humblest mee so mak'st me know my selfe by knowing Sinne Nay more it puls me from my selfe to thee so though I lose my selfe yet thee I winne O strange disposing of the worst of Ill meere Concord of maine Contradiction That which puls from doth draw together still where loue drawes Discords to make Vnion So then my Faults as if they Vertues were wrought for my good by thee that hast the skill To beare with men to make them sinne forbeare and so through Grace to pull good out of Ill Yet didst thou whisper in my Soules right Eare that I should doe no ill for such good end But mad'st me sinning Sinne to hate and feare in loue for that it did thee LOVE offend With Thornes thou dost hedge-in my narrow Way that if I ere so little step awry They straight doe pricke me and so make me pray for help to thee in whom all help doth lye And as the Hunter stoppeth vp each Gap wher-through the wild Bore may escape vncaught So dost thou stop my way with each misse-hap when I would runne away from thee to nought Am I escapt from out thy mercies Hands thy Hand of Iustice puls me in againe So Mercy holds me by which Iustice stands to help to hold me safe by ease and paine Haue I a Will by Death to damne my Soule by desprate Death to damne not mine but thine Thou dost that Will with thy good Will controule And mak'st my Will thy Will in spight of mine Am I resolu'd to sinne presumptuously and that of purpose to despight thee too Thou mak'st the Will without the Deed to dye and mak'st me damne the Deed ere it I doe Would I for any indiuine respect sell Heau'n for Earth and God so for the Deuill Thou God dost make that Would worke good effect for when it proues the Ill it shuns the euill Is my Hand stretched out my faith to plight to blacke Perdition twixt my hand and It Thou putst thy hand of Iustice which doth smite away my hand before that knot be knit The Weapons me thou gau'st my selfe to saue I monster did against thy Goodnesse bend And with thy glorious gifts I thee did braue so did I shame my selfe and Thee offend The Tongue thou mouedst that blasphemed Thee thou rul'dst the limbes that did thy Members rend Thou gau'st Wit pow'r with Thee to disagree and gau'st Will force the giuer to offend So that not onely I ingrate haue bin for thy good gifts but haue the same imployd As weapons of vnrighteousnesse in Sinne and so with thine owne Grace haue thee annoid Thou mad'st all Creatures for mine onely vse t' allure me to thy gainfull Loue thereby But I abused thee by their abuse so with thy Good deeds did thee damnifie So that through whom the seeing of thy Face was to be tane through them I could not see For I as Gods did them in Loue embrace which thou had'st giu'n to guide me vnto Thee That I might serue thee me did all things serue I did command that me thou might'st intreat They did me Good when I did ill deserue and when I made thee small they made me great Thou gau'st me Faith and Hell the Fruites hath had thou gau'st me Grace and Sinne hath vs'd the same Thou gau'st me Wit which Will abus'd as mad thou gau'st me Sense wherewith my selfe I shame Thou gau'st me Health which sickely I haue vs'd in riot surfet and in all excesse Thou gau'st me Strength which I haue still abus'd in waging warre with thine owne Mightinesse Thou for my profit plaguedst other men that so from Sinne I might be kept with ease But I vnplagued plagu'd my Brethren so farre off was I from remorse by These These Gifts I most vngratefull gratis had which though abus'd I vsed when I would And being Gifts
much more within My Lifes-bud blasted was with heate of bloud the Flow'r then needs must fade and Fruit decay Nay leaues and Branch haue perisht with the Bud and now the Truncke is turning into Clay Lord how shall I thus soild with Sinne for shame appeare before thy Glory I alas Am but Confusion euer out of frame and was at best ere fully fram'd I was The least of all my Sinnes will be at least a most seuere Accuser but the whole Equall to that which thou dost most detest with but a thought confounds my thoughtfull Soule O Christ thy Wounds renued by my Sinne still bleed to my Confusion for I faint At that which others still are strength'ned in so thy all-sauing bloud doth me but taint Sweete Christ yet be my Iesus though I be thus quite o'er-whelm'd with sins coÌ„founding floud And in thy bloud I shed still rince thou me vntill thine Ire be quenched in thy bloud Yea in thy Wounds as Ionas in the Whale saue me from drowning in thy doomes-profound Let Mercies Beames my filth of sinne exhale and it dispieese that it no more be found So shall I cast on Safeties Shore by thee Still praise thy Grace for so securing me The carefull Soule because of the momentany condition of transitory life desireth to wash away the filth of sin with the teares of continuall penitencie SIth on this moment of fraile Life depends th' eternall weale or woe of humane Breede And that no meanes can long deferre their ends let Teares still feede me Lord till Wormes I feede For Teares for Sin doth Sin through grace destroy so kill their Cause whereon who feeds shall liue Where they that sow in teares shall reape in ioy then let my Teares me dead in Sinne reuiue They were they foode ô Christ that couldst not sin and yet for others sinne still weptst then I That liue a life that 's quite o'erwhelm'd therein had need to weepe till drown'd in teares I dye Happy that Soule that on a Sea of Teares sailes in Faiths Ship by Hopes securest Cape Vnto the Port of Peace and with her beares Good-workes that make the Worker wracke escape This World 's but Sorrowes Sea whereon mankinde is tost with Stormes of Troubles that arise By Enuy Malice or Faâ—es wayward winde whiles Life to Death more swift then Swallow flies If in the way a Calme the Course prolongs it holds vs but to griefe resembling Ioy While Pleasure with her charming Syren-Songs o'erwhelme vs in the end in deep'st annoy Twixt Silla and Charibdâ—s Ioy and Griefes fraile life still floates and wrackes in Eyther oft Which equally to Death betrayeth Life but low estate lesse sinckes then that aloft Why should we then prize worldly things so much which haue no good but as they vs respect And lightly weigh those Treasures without which we haue no Goodnesse but are meere Defect Honor and Pow'r Health Beauty Strength and Wit are but as Smoake that comes from troubled fire The more it growes the lesse continues it and comes to nought whan â—t doth high'st aspire To be in Princes grace which all desires procures but Pride which blindes our Iudgements sight While like a siled Doue we Lord aspire till sou'raigne heate at height doth sinke vs quite Then t is in vaine to trust in Princes grace which pleasure or their profit may procure And when these faile they streight auert their Face but Lord thy Grace is euer free as sure Then let me wholy on thy Grace depend yet so as still I worke it to encrease So it with me shall worke too to the end and at the end with me shall rest in Peace To which deare Lord vouehsafe thy Grace may goe With my toil'd Soule that cannot rest but so A short Meditation of the breuitie of life with an Incitation to make good vse of the present time WOldst thou be spurr'd to run the way of truth then see how time doth run with thee away Youth comes on Childhood Man-hood comes on Youth on Man-hood Ages and Age at Death doth stay So Time ascends and descends with such haste vpon the Scale of Lifes-gradation That liu'd we but to mend our misses past yet death would cease our work ere halfe were done Time-past is gone in it we cannot mend Time-future is vncertaine then therein We are vnsure our ill bents to vnbend the Present-time is ours to cease to sinne Yet that Time ceaseth while we thinke thereon Then if we mend not now now Time is gone A short meditation of Mans Miserie WHat was I am I or what shall I be I was nought am nought and for ought I do Shall be farre worse then nought ô wretched me why was I borne for nought and worser too This makes me to deplore my Day of Birth sith I was borne to so hard exigent As all men doe that doe enioy the Earth yet so enioy it as th' are ne'er content We hold that Infant but a Prodigie that in his Birth doth not the World salute With note of Present-future misery for that 's his Birth-right cleare and absolute In Sinne Originall was I conceiu'd in actuall Sinne I liue and I may taste Eternall paine for that I first receiu'd with that I liue in now and that is past I in the Wombe was loathsome in the World a Sacke of all Corruption in the Graue A Prey of Vermine and may thence be hurl'd to Hell if what Sinne spoyles Grace doe not saue When I was nothing then was I without Hope to be sau'd or Feare condemn'd to be Now of the first I hope but more doe doubt and of the last stand still in ieopardie I was such as I could not then be damn'd but now am such as hardly can be sau'd For at the first I was in cleannesse fram'd but now by me its more then most deprau'd Erect deare Lord my pristrine Puritie correct my present Vices and direct My future steps direct them Sinne to flye and to attaine the Grace of thine Elect So shall I praise thy Name with them and say Blessed be HIM that so inspir'd my Clay That our Saluation comes from God LOrd thou hast said thou mad'st not death theÌ„ let that which thou mad'st not neuer signiorize O'er me that thou hast made but Watches set to keepe death from me when from Death I rise If thou be sory for my Death then who shall let thy Ioy in giuing life to me If thou wilt thou canst saue me I not so I can but dye vnlesse I liue by Thee For I can will but can performe no good nor yet will good without my Will thou moue In thy good-will then lies my liuelihood and yet thou bidst me labour for thy Loue But Lord I cannot if thou help me not that 's make me willing and worke with me too Nor can I moue a Man but I must blot without thee so my Pow'r's but to vndoe For I would sometimes that I can but then I know not