losse Of carnall hopes thy purpose herein crosse Take heed that Ionas-lâ—ke thou be not bent To Tharsus when thou knowst that thou art sent To Niniveh For all thy doubts and feare Will be as causelesse as his doubtings were And be thou sure that wheresoe're thou be A Tempest and a Whale shall follow thee My heart receiv'd this Message did allow It came from God and made a solemne Vow It would not entertaine a serious thought Of any worldly thing till that were brought To full perfection no although it might Endanger losing my best fortune quite But oh I how fraile is Man and how unable In any goodnesse to continue stable How subtile is the Devill and what bâ—its And undermining policies and sleights Hath he to coozen us My soule was raised So high e'rewhile that I admir'd and praised My blest estate And thought with Dâ—vid then My heart shâ—ll never be râ—mov'd ageâ— But see how soone if God withdraw his eye We fall to hell that up to heavâ—n did flye I would have sworne when in my Conâ—emplation I was ascended to tâ—at lofty Station So lately mention'd that I should hâ—ve scorn'd The goodl'est prize the Devill could have suboâ—n'd To tempt me by I thought if God had said Doe this that though the World had all beene laid To be my wages if I should delay The doing of the same but halfe a day 〈…〉 â—â—ve rather choâ—e to have forsaken My life then so to have beene overtaken Yet loâ— so craftily a bait was laid Sâ—â—h showes of Gooâ—nesse thereinto convaid 〈◊〉 meanes of helâ—e to Piety pretended â—o me so seem'd it to be reâ—ommended By God himselfe and such necessity Appâ—ar'd of taking opportunity As thâ—n it offâ—ed was that I suspected I had â—one ill the same to have neglected Nâ—y to my Vnderstanding true Discâ—etion And all the Wisdome of this Generation Did â—o concur together to betray My hâ—aâ—t that I did foolishly delay The Tasâ— enjoy'd Yea what I had bgun Proceedâ—d in and puâ—pos'd should be doâ—â— Before my best affaires ev'n that I threw Aside and other hopes I did pursue I brake my Vow and I was led awry For that which was morâ— light then Vanity And so my hopes my judgement did beguilâ— That I supposed all was well thâ— while Most also thâ—ught me wiâ—ely to haâ—e done And â—uch a fortune to have lighted on That oâ—hâ—rs of my happinesse began To talke and reckon me a prospâ—rous man But many scandals passions and vexations Much hindrance and a woâ—ld of perturbaâ—ions Pursued me to let me undeâ—stand That I had taken some wrong â—ct in hand For though like Ionas I resolv'd not quite From Gods commands to make a stubboâ—ne slight Yet wâ—nt I to his Worke the fuâ—thest way And travell'd as mine owne occasions lay Which he perceiving sâ—nt a Storme that câ—est me Madâ— shipwracke of my hopes my labouâ— lesâ— me Befâ—ol'd my wisdomâ— of â—uch joy bereâ—t me Within the Sea of many troubles lest me And what with speed and ease I â—ight have done At first hath long with paine beene lingred on Yea when the Haâ—vâ—st of my gâ—eat râ—pute Was looked for and most expected fruit It proved chaffe and plainly I perceived That God had suffred me to be dâ—ceived To warne me that hereafter I should never Omit for any reason whatâ—oever His motions nor with holy vowes dâ—spense Bâ—t worke his plâ—â—sure with all diligence Which after I had heeded I descry'd By what and whither I was drawne aside I plainly saw that what I then had sought Wâ—th hope of comfort would my woe have wroughâ— I fâ—und that likely to have beene to me A Curse which promised my Blisse to be I praiâ—ed God as for a savour done That he did lose mâ— what I might have won And what the world did think me haplâ—sse in I â—ound a gracious blessing to have bin I sâ—w my fault I saw in vaine I sought To worke my will till â— God 's will had wrought I saw that while the furthest way I went Gods Mercy did my foolishnesse prevent Yea made it by his providence divine A great advantage to his owne Designe And for my negligence when I had mourned To my proposâ—d Labour I râ—turned I begg'd of God â—hat he would give me grace To be more constant in a godly race I did beseech him to bestow againe Those Apprehensions which my hopes in vaine Had made me lose and that for my demerit He would not qâ—ench in me his holy Spirit But granâ— me pow'r to prosecute my story And utter forth his Message to his â—lory My suâ—e was heard I got whâ—t I desired My soule with mâ—tter was anew inspired Mâ— eyes were clear'd my heart was new enlarged Bold Resoluâ—ions hâ—d all Fâ—ares discharged And that which was dâ—sclosed unto me Doth appertaine Gâ—eat Britaine unto theâ— Come heare me theâ—efore for howe're thou tâ—ke it My Conscience bids me and I meane to speake it Within thy pow'r thou hast me and what e're Shall good and right in thine owne eyâ—s appeare Thou maist inflict upon me But this knâ—w That what I shall declare God bids me show And that if I for this have harme or shame My God shall at thy hands require the samâ— Oh! let not my requests in vaine be made Nor to thy former sinnes another adde And my sweet Country and deare Coâ—ntrimen Let not these overflowings of my pen Distastfull be as if their spring had beene But either from the Gall or from the Spleene Let not this ages false Intâ—rprâ—ter Which makes both Iudgement and Affection erre Corrupt my Text by their false Commentary To make your good opinions to miscary For though in me as in all flesh and blood Mâ—ch error hinders from that perfect good Which I â—ffect yâ—t I his meed may claime Who makes Gods glory and your weale his ayme And begs but of his words a paâ—ient hearing And from your follies a discreet forbeaâ—ing If there be Truth and Reason in the Mâ—ssâ—ge Let not my person hinder my Ambassâ—ge If God shall in his Mercy pleased be To make a Factor for his praise of me Let none the poorenesse of my gifts deâ—ide Since he to no â—xternall meanes is ty'd Despise not what I speake for what I am Vnlesse you find the matâ—er be to blame For God by Babes and Sucklings oft reveâ—lâ—s What from the wisest worldlings he conceales Both Heav'n and Earth to witnesse here I câ—ll I dar'd not speake what now I utter shall Vnlesse I thought that God did me inspire And would this duty at my hands require Nor dar'd I to be silent though I knâ—w That ev'ry mâ—n had vowed â—o pursue My Soâ—le to Dâ—ath because mâ— conscience takes Aâ—knâ—wlâ—dgement that God wâ—thin me speakes I doe not this for that I seâ—selesse am Oh! Englanâ— of thy infamy or shame For thy dishonor doth concerne me nearly And thee my heâ—rt affectâ—th far more dearly Then cowâ—rds doe their lives I would distâ—ll My blood
through all that sorrow in one day And in thy blessed presâ—nce to appeare Who else might here have lingred many a yeare Of what can he complaine if being borne Above the reach of ev'ry future scorne Within thy heav'nly Mansion he possesse A perfect and an endlesse happinesse Why may not IVSTICE glorifie â—hy Name As well as MERCY can extoll the same Why should thy former favours being lost Oblige thee to defray a future cost On Prodigals and Vnthrifts who had rather Live Swineherds than returne to thâ—e their Father Why may not that reproach dâ—verted be Which irreligious men will cast on thee Although thou spare not hypocrites and them Who are the causers that thy Foes blaspheme What disadvantage can their fall effect To thy pure honour or to thine elect Which may not be prevented if thou â—lease Although thou be not merâ—ifull to these Sure none at all and therefore I will stay My hand no longer but breake off delay Thy Sword and Ballance are with me in trust To punish Sin I know it to be just They both arraigned and condemned are My warrantâ— in thy written Word appeaâ—e Their crimes for Vengeance loudly crying â—e Thy Iudgements ready mustred are by â—hee Thine eye doth speake unto me to be gone And loe I flye to see thy pleasure done As when a Mother on a sudden hearing Her babe to shrieke and some disaster fearing That may befall â—he childe starts up and flyes To see the reason of her Infants cries So quick was IVSTICE e're now had brought Her work to something and this Land to nought â—ut to prevent her purpose MERCIE cast Her arme about that angry Virgins waste Look'd sadly on her hung about her kist her And weeping in her bosome said Sweet Sister I pray thee doe not thus impatient grow Nor prosecute deserved Vengeance so Thou art most beautifull sincerely just Most perfâ—ctly upright in all thou dost For which â—hâ—ne excellency and pâ—rfection I love thee with an excelâ—ent aâ—â—ection And though thou frownest yet thy frownings be So lovely that I cannot part â—rom thee What though some Worldlings offer thee disgraces Shâ—ll they Sweet heart make loathed my embraces Shall thou and I who nearâ—r are then twinnes Fall out oâ— be divorced by their sinnes Oh never lâ—t it said or mutt red be That we in any thing can disagrâ—e For what 's more loâ—ely or more sweet then thiâ— That we each other may embrace and kisse And by our mutuall workings and agreeings Briâ—g all Gods Creatures to their perfect beings Beleeâ—e me Deare Heav'n doth not comprehend That pleasure which this pleasure doth transcend Nor is our Father better pleas'd in us Then when he sees our armes emwined thus For should we jarre the world would be undone And Heav'n and Earth into a Chaos runne What profit can it bring or what content To see a Kingdome miserably rent With manifold afflictions what great good To us redoundeth by the death or bâ—ood Of any mà n what honour can we have What praise from those that in the silent graâ—e Lye raked up in ruines dead and rotten Or in the Land where all things are forgotten Seeke not thy Glory by their Overthrow That are pursued by too strong a Fâ—e And over-match'd already thinke upon The pow'rfull hate of that malicious One. Remâ—mber they were fâ—amed of the dust And that to Clâ—y againe returne they must When they are dead they passe away for ever Ev'n as that vapour which returneth never Oh make them not the Butt of thy displeasure Nor give them of Gods wrath the fullest measure I grant this Realme is sinfull But what hath That Realme or people equalling thy wrath T' is honourable when we stoope below Our selves that love or favour we may show Or to correct with purpose to amend But if with such we Foe-like should contend It would appeare as if some Empery Did arme it selfe to combat with a Fly When we correction or forgivenesse daigne We may correct them or forgive againe But in destroying quite our selves we wound And to our Infinitenesse set a bound For IVSTICE neither MERCY can have plâ—ce In subjects which we totally deface We must not seeke for purity divine In dust and ashes till we first refine From earthly drosse the gold that we desire By using of the Bellowes and the Fire For till we purge it what alas is good Or what can holy be in Flesh and Blood Who lookes that Figs on Thistles should be borne â—r that sweet Grapes should grow upon a Thorne It cannot be As therefore heretoâ—ore God promisâ—d that he would never more Contend with man let us resolve the same And by some other meanes their wildenesse tamâ— Keepe yet a while this Army where it is And let us try to mend what is amisse As erst we did by sending jointly thither Our Favours and Corrections both together And if they profit not there is a Day In which thine Indiâ—nation shall have way As when a Father who in heat of wrath To give a son correction purpos'd hath Enraged is untill his lovely wife Doth interpoâ—e her selfe with friendly strife But pleased in the sweetnesse of her speech Who to forgive the Child doth him beseech Doth lay aside his whole displeasure then And turne his anger into smiles agen So IVSTICE was by MERCY wrought upon And she that would with so much haste be gone Forgot her speed Her louing Sister ey'd With calmer lookes and thus to her reply'd Thou and thy charmings have prevail'd upon me And to abate mine anger thou hast wonne me I â—herefore will not cast my plagues on all But on worst Livers onely let them fall Nay nay quoth MERCIE thou must favour show To most of them or thou wilt overthrow The lawes of Destiny and crost will be What God did from eternity decree For some of these have not fulfilled yet Their sinnes nor made their number up complete Some that are wandring in the wayes of folly Shall be regenerated and made holy Of them some have morality that may Be helpfull to Gods childrâ—n in their way Some must be left as were the Cana'nites To exercise the faithfull Isr'elites Yea some have in their loynes a generation Vnborne which must make up the blessed Nation And till that seed bud forth those trees must sâ—and Although they grow but to annoy the Land It seemes quoth IVSTICE I must then abide However they offâ—nd unsatisfi'd Vnsâ—tisfi'd said MERCIE Is it that Sweet Sister which your zeale hath aimed at Then looke you there And with that word her eye She plaâ—'d on him who sits in Majesty At Gods right hand Behold that Lambe quoth she By him thou fully satisfi'd shalt be He poore was made that He their debt might pay He base became to take their shame away He entred bond their freedome to procure He dangers try'd their safeties to assure He scorned was their honor to advance He seem'd a foole to helpe their ignorance
passage found And troubled me by their uncertaine sound For though the sounds themselves no terror weâ—e Nor came from any thing that I could feare Yet they bâ—ed Musings and those musings bred Conjecturings in my halfe sleepiâ—g head By those Conjectures into minde wâ—re brougâ—t Some reall things before quite out of thought They divers Fancies to my soule did shew Which mâ— still further and still further drew To follow them till they did thoughts procure Which humane frailty cannot long endure Ev'n such as when I fully was awake Did make my heart to tremble and to aâ—e And when such frailties have disheartned men Oh! God how busie is the Devill then I know in part his malice and the wayes And times and those occasions which he layes To worke upon our weaknesse and there is Scarce any which doth shew him like to tâ—is I partly also know by what dâ—gâ—ees He worketh it how he doth gaine or leese Hiâ— labours and some sense I have procuâ—'d What pâ—ngs are by the soule that while endur'd For though my God in mercy hath indu'd My Soule with Knowledge and with Fortitudâ— In such a measure that I doe not feare Distractedly those tortures which appeare In solitary daâ—knessâ— yet some part Of this and of all frailties in my heart Continues he that so I might confesse His mercies with continuall thankfulnesse And somewhat â—vermore about me beare Which unto me my frailâ—ies may declare Yea thouâ—h without distemper now it be So much of those grim feares are shewed me Which terrifi'd my childhood and which makâ— The heaâ—ts of aâ—ed men sometimes to quake That I am sâ—nsible of their estate And can their case the more compassionate Who on their beds of â—eath doe pained lye Exil'd from comâ—ort and fâ—om company When dreadfull Fancies doe their soules afâ—ight Begotten by the melancholy nigâ—t Glad was I when I saw the Sun appeare And with his Rayes to blesse our Hemiâ—phere That from the tumbled bed I might arise And with more lightsomnesse refresh mine eyes Or with some good companionâ— â—ead or pray To passe the better my sâ—d thoughts away For though such â—houghts oft usâ—full are and good Yet knowing well I was but flesh and blood I also knew mans naturall condition Must have in joyes and griefes an intermission Lest too much joy should fill the heart with folly Or too much griefe breed dangerous melancholy But when the Morning came iâ— little shewed Save light to see discomfortings renewed For if I staid within I heard relations Of nought but dying pangâ— and lamentations If in the Streâ—ts I did my footing set With many sad disasters there I met And objects of mortaliâ—y and feare I saw in great abundance ev'ry where Here one man stagger'd by wâ—th visage pale There lean'd another grunting on a stall A third halfe dead lay gasping for his grave A fourth did out at window call and rave Yonn came the Bearers sweating from the Pit To fetch more bodies to replenish it A little further off one sits and showes The spots which he Deaths tokens doth suppose E're such they be and makes them so indeed Which had beene signes of healâ—h by taking heed For those round-purple-spotâ— which most have thoght Deaths fatall tokens where they forth are bâ—ought May prove Life tokens if that ought be done To helpe the worke which Naturâ— hâ—th begun Whereas that feare which their opinion brings Who threaten Death the want of cordiall things To helpe remove that poison from the heart Which Nature hath expelled thence in part And then the Sickmâ—ns liberty of having Cold drinks and what his appetite is craving Brings backe againe those humours pestilent Which by the vitall pow'rs had foâ—th beene sent So by recharging him that was before Nigh spent the fainting Combatant gives o're And he that cheerfully did raise his head Is often in a moment strucken dead Feaâ—e also helps it forward Yea the terror Occasion'd by their fond and common error Who tell the sickâ— that markt for Death they be When those blâ—w spots upon their flesh they see Ev'n that hath murthred thousands who might here Have lived â—lse among us many a yeare For if the Surgeons or the Searchers know Those markes which for the markes of death do goe From common-spots or purples which we must Confesse or else all kinde of spots dâ—strâ—st Then such as we Death-tokens call were seene On some that have long since recover'd beene Before I learned this I fixt mine eyes On many a private mans calamities And saw the Streets wherein a while agoe We sâ—arce could passe the people fill'd them so Appeare nigh desolate yea quite forlorne And for their wonted visitantâ— to mourne Much peopled Westminster where late I saw So many rev'rend Iudges of the Law With Clients and with Suitors hemmed round Where Courts and Palaces did so abound With busâ—nesses and whâ—re together met Our Thrones of Iustice and our Mercy-seat That place was then frequented as you see Some Villages on Holy-dayes will be When halfe the Towneship and the Hamlets nigh Are met to revell at some Parish by Perhaps the wronging of the Orphans cause Denying or perverting of the Lawes There practised did set this Plague abrâ—eding And sent the Terme from Westminster to Reading Her goodly Church and Chappell did appeare Like some poore Minster which hath twice a yeare Foure visitants And her great Hall wherein So great a Randevow had lately â—in Did look like those old Structureâ— where long since Meâ— say King Arthur kept his residence The Parliament had left her to goe see If they could learne at Oxford to agree Or if that ayre were better â—or the health And safety of our English Common-wealtâ— But there some did so counsell and so vrge The Body politike to take a purge To purifie the parts that seemed foule Some others did that motion so â—onâ—roule And plead so much for Cordialls and for that Which strengthen might the sinnewes of the State That all the time the labour and the cost Which had bestowed beene was wholly lost And here the empty House of Parliament Did lâ—oke as if iâ— had beene discoâ—tâ—nt Or griev'd me thought that Oxford should not be More proâ—perous yet nor câ—uld I any see Resâ—rt to comâ—ort her But there did I Behold two Traytors heaâ—s which perching high Did shew their teeth as if they had beene grinning At those Affliâ—tious which are now beginning Yea their wide â—ye holes star'd me thought as thâ— They lookt â—o see that House now overthrow It selfe which they with Powder up had blowne Had God their snares and them not overthrowne White Hall where not three months before I spi'd Great Britaine in the height of all her pride And France with her contending which could most Outbrave old Rome and Persiâ— in their cost On Robes and Feasts Ev'n that lay solitary As doth a quite-forsaken Monastâ—ry In some lone Forrest and we could not passe To many places but through weeds and
the world or of the Devill Or some suggestion in my selfe that 's evill May urge perhaps that it is melancholy Whicâ— fills me noâ— that superstitious folly Begot this awfulnesse that â—his Disease Did accidâ—ntâ—lly our Câ—tâ— seize And that 't is vaine to muse so much upon Those times or trouâ—les that are past and gone Oh! rather then it should in me be so Some other house of Sorrow send me to And keepe me Lord perpetuall pris'ner there Till all such dangers overpassed are Nor weale nor woe I crave but part of either As with my temâ—er best agrees together For joy without â—hy grace is griefes encreasing And wealth is poverty without thy blessing But if by passing this life 's pâ—rging fires Thou shalt so purifie my hearts desires That without perill to my hopes of heav'n A temp'rall rest may at the last be giv'n Vouchsafe it Lord ev'n for the good of them Who my best resolutions yet condemne Let theâ— discerne thou blessings hast provided For that which they unjustly have derided Thou herâ—tofoâ—e didst heare thy Servant call And mad'st me free when I was close in thrall Oh! to those â—oâ—tals make me not a scorne Who to my Shamâ— my Glory seeke to turne But let it in thy time to them appeare That thou didst me eâ—ect and me wilt heare Let them perceive though they my Lott disdaine The promise of this Life doth appertaine To me as unto them And for their sakes Whose weaknesse otherwhile ofâ—ences takes At my perpetuall scandals let their eye Behold the â—urne of my Capâ—ivity And know thaâ— I have walked in a path Which in this life time some smooth paces hath Bâ—t nought repine I though this boone thou grant not For that which thou to me deny'st I want not I know thy Wisedome knowes what best will fit me I know thy Pow'r enough those things to get me I know thy Love is large enough to me I know thy Pleasure should my pleasure be Thy will be done and hallowed be thy Name Although it be through my perpetuall shame Whilst on such Meditations I was feâ—ding My pleased soule and Gods great goodnes heeding That I might fill her with contemplating On him from whom all happinesse doth spring A suddaine Rapture did my Muse prepare For higher thiâ—gs then she did lately dare Me thought I saw Gods Iuâ—tice and his Love Installed on one throne in heav'n above I had imperfect fights and glimmering notions Concerning some of their partiâ—â—lar motions About this Orbe I much perceiv'd me thought O those their wondrous works which they had wâ—oughâ— In former dayes And as within a Glasse Some things I saw which they will bring to passe In future times By helpe of Gods great Booke Which for my Ephimerides I tooke I had procâ—r'd a large intelligence Of Iustice and of Mercies Influence There learned I theseverall Aspects And of those Stâ—ries the severall effects Wâ—ile in coâ—junctiâ—n those two Lights I saw The best Altâ—oâ—oâ—ers could never draw From all the plâ—nâ—tâ—ry Constellations Ev'n 〈◊〉 â—heir best such heav'nly consolations I coâ—â—d conjectuâ—e of their woâ—ke divine In Sâ—xtile or in Quâ—drine or in Trine And what proâ—igious Plagues the world should fright If their aspâ—ct were wholly Opposite Some things by calculation I discerned Which this our British Latitude concerned And most of them not much impertinent For all Merâ—dians through Earths Continent I saw of Weale and Woe the many ranges I saw the restlesse Wheele of mortall changes I saw how Cities Common-wealths and Men Did rise and fall and â—ise and fall agen I saw the reason why all Times and States Have such vicissitudes and various fates I saw what doth occasion War and Peace What causeth Dearth and what doth bring Encrease I saw what hardens and what mollifies And whence all Blessings and all Plagues arise I saw how sins are linked in together As in a Chaiâ—â— how one doth cause another And how to ev'ry linke throughout the Chaine Are fixt those Plagues which to that Crime pertaine I saw unâ—eal'd that hellish Mystery Of carnall and meere worâ—dly â—olicy Whereby the Devill fooles this generation And brings on Christendome such molestation I saw as plaine as ever I did see The Sun at none what damned projects be Veild o're with Piety and Holy zeale And how a Christian Ath'isme now doth steale Vpon this age Forgive me that I saw A Christian Ath'isme for ev'n to betray Christ Iesus Christ and Iesus those two Names Are oft usurped and it us defames I saw why some abuse their holy Calling And why so many Stars from heav'n are falling I had a Licence given me to come Where I might see the Devâ—ls Tiring-roome And all the Maskes the Visards and Disguises Which he to murther cheat or rob devises And weares himselfe or lends false-hearted brothers Therewith to foole themselves or cozen others Here lay a Box of zeale profâ—ssing Eyes Which serve for acting of Hypocrisies Hard by another full of Double-hearts For those who play the Ambâ—dexters parts There stood a Châ—st of counterfeited Graces Another full of honest-seeming Faces Yoâ—n hung a suit which had some Traytor got He might have passâ—d for a Patriot Close by were prâ—ssâ— fuls of such suits as they Doe weaâ—e in ev'ry Kingdome at this day Who passe for Statesmen when God knowes they be As far from that as knaves from loving me There hung those masking-suits in which the Popes And Cardinals pursue their carnall hopes There were those foâ—mall Garbs wherein false friends Disguise themselves for some unfaithfull ends Faire counterfeits for Bishops saw I there So like their habits that are most sincere And so beâ—ainted that if they were set Vpon the back of our Arch counterfeit He could not be distinguisht from the best Oâ— all those Prelates that have Christ profest There view'd I all those juggling sleights with which Men worke false miracles and so betwitch Deluded soules There saw I all the trickâ— And Faâ—tosmes wherewithall our Schismaticks Abuse themselves and others There with ruth I saw false-Doctrines tâ—imm'd about with Truth Fac'd out with Fathers peeâ—'d and neatly deaâ—ned With Sentences and Sayings of the Learned Yea with Gods holy Scriptures interweaved So cunningly as wâ—uld have nigh deceived Ev'n hiâ— Elect and many a one alas Of these for Christian Verities doth passe I saw moreover with what Robes of Light The King of Darknesse doth his person dight To make it Angel like and how he scrues Himselfe among our musings to abuse Our understandings how he layes his hooks And baits at Sermons and in godly-books Although the Authors had in their invention A pious meaning and a good intention I saw what venome he doth hurle into Our heert'est prayers and those works we doe In purest charity and how he strives To poison us in our preservatives When all these Mâ—skings and a thousand moe My apprehensions eye had lookt into From thence my Conâ—emplation rais'd my thought And to a
more carefull of thy weale by far Then parents of their childrens pâ—ofits are Thy Magistraâ—eâ— with wisdome shall proceed In all that shall be couâ—ell'd or decreed As Harbours wâ—en it blowes tempestuously As Rivers unto places over-dâ—y As Shadowes aâ—e to men opprest with heat As to a hungry stomacâ— wholsomâ— meat To thee so welcomâ— and as much conâ—enting Thy Nobles will become on thy repenting Thy Priests shal preach true doctrine in thy Teples And make it fruitfull by their good examples Thy God with righteousnesse shall them aray And heare and answer them when they do pray Thy eyes that much are blinded shall be cleare Thy eaâ—es that yet are deafned then shall heare Thy tongue that sâ—aÌ„mers now shall then spâ—ak plain Thy heart shall perfect understanding gaine The preaching of the Gospell shall encrease Thy God shall make thy comforts and thy peace To flow as doth a River they who plant The blessing of their labour shall not want Thy poorest people shall at full be fed The meek shall of no tyâ—aâ—t stand in dread Thou shalt have grace and knowledge to avoid Those things whereby thy râ—st may be annoid Tâ—ou shalt possâ—sse thy wished blâ—ssings all And God shall heare thee still before thou call But as a Chime whâ—se â—rets disord red grow Can never cause it selfe in tâ—ne to goe Nor chime at all untill some cunning hand Doth make the same againe in order stand Or as the Clock whose plummers are not weight Strikeâ— sometimes one for three and sixe for eight So fareth it with men and kingdomes all When once from their integrity they fall They may their motionâ—urry â—urry out of frame But have no pow'r to râ—ctifie the same That curious hand which first those pieces wrought Must mend them still or they will still be nought To thee I therefore now my speech convert Thou famous Artist who Creator art Of heav'n and eaâ—th and of those goodly spheares That now have whirled many thousand yeares And shall untill thy pleasure â—ives it ending In their perpetuall motion without mending Oh! be thou pleased by thy pow'rfull hand To set in order this depraved Land Our whole foundation Lord is out of course And ev'ry thing still groweth worse and worâ—e The way that leads quite from thee we have tooke Thy Covenant and all thy Lawes are bâ—oke In mischiefes and in folly is our pleasure Our crying sins have almost fill'd their measure Yet ev'ry day we adde a new transgressiâ—n And still abuse thy favour and compassion Our Governors our Prelats and our Nobles Have by their sins encrease encreast our trouâ—les Our Priests and all the People have misgone All kind of evill deeds we all have done We have not lived as those meanes of â—race Require which thou hast graâ—ted to this place But â—ather woâ—se then many who have had Lessâ— helpes then we of being better made No Nation under heav'n so lewd hath bin That had so mâ—ny wâ—rnings for their sin And such perpetuall callings on as we To leave our wickednesse and turne to thee Yet we in stead of turning further went And when thy Mercies and thy Plagues were sent To pull us backe they seldome wrought our stay Or moved to repentance one whole day No blessing no affliction hath a pow'r To move compunction iâ— us for one houre Vnlesse thou worke it All that I can speake And all that I have spoken till thou breake And mollifie the heart will fruitlesse be Not onely in my hearers but in me Iâ— thou pâ—epare not way for more esteeme All these Remembrances will foolish seeme Nay these in stead of moving to repent Will indignation move and discontent Which will mens haâ—dned hearts obdurate more And make their fault much greater then before Vnlesse thou give a â—lessing I may strive As well to make a marble stone alive As to effect my pâ—rpoâ—e yea all this Like wholesome counsell to a mad man is And I for my good meaning shall be torne In pieces or exposed be to scorne â—or they against thy word doe stop their eare And wilde in disobedience will not heare In this we all confesse ourselves to blame And that we therefore have deserved shame Yea Lord we doe acknowledge that for this There nothâ—ng else to us pertaining is Respecting our owne worth but desolation And finall â—ooting ouâ— without compassion But gracious God though such our merit be Yet â—ercy fâ—ll pertaineth unto thee To thee the act of pard'ning and forgiving As much belongs oh Father everliving As plagues to us and it were better far Our sinnes had lesse then their deservings are Then that thy Clemency should be outgone By alâ— the wickednesse that can be done As well as theirs whose lives now left them have Thou caâ—st command those bodies from the grâ—ve Who slink and putrifie and buried be In their corruption Such oh Lord are we Oh! call us from this grave and shew thy pow'r Vpon this much polluted Land of our Which is not only sick of works unholy But almost dead and buried in her folly Forgive us all our slips our neglâ—gences Our sins of knowledge and our ignorances Our daring wickednesse our blâ—ody crimes And all the faults of past and pâ—esent times Permit not thy just wrath to burne for â—ver In thy displeasure doe not still persever But call us from that pit of Death and Sin And from that path of Hell which we are in Remember that this Vineyard hath a Vine Which had her planting by that hand of thine Remember when from Egypt thou remov'dst it With what entire affection then thou lov'dst it How thou didst weed and dresse it heretofore How thou didst fence it from the forrest Bore And think how sweet a vintage then it brought When thy first worke upon her thou hadst wrought Remember that without thy daily care The choicest plants soone wilde and fruitlesse are And that as long as thou dost prune and dresse The sowrest Vine shâ—ll bring a sweet â—ncrease Râ—member also Lord how still that Foe Wâ—â— fiâ—st puâ—sued us doth seek to sow His â—ares among thy wheat and to his pow'r Bâ—eak downâ— thy fence and trample and devoure The seeds of grace as soone as they doe sprout And is toâ— strong for us to keep him out Oâ— let not him prevaile such harme to do us As he desires but Lord reâ—urne unto us Returne in merâ—y Though thou find us slack To come our selves fâ—tch draw and pull us back From our owne courses by thy grace divine And set and keep us in each way of thine We from our foes have saved beene by thee And in thy love oh Lord triumphed we But now behold disgrac'd thou throw'st us by And we before our adversaries flye Aâ— us our neighbâ—ring Nations laugh and jeere And us they â—coâ—ne whom late we made to feare Oh God aâ—ise reject us not for aye No longer hide from us thy face away But come oh come with speed to give uâ—aid