condemned be at last And in the lake of fire and brimstone cast Seven violent fits I had to shew that I Am mortal and must die But then such was thy wil I had no more Thou Lord didst me restore To health and having brought me neer the grave Declaredst then thy mighty power to save How much thy mercy doth thy justice passe A sinful man I was Seven times a day I have offended thee Yet thou forgavest me Yea though my sins exceed the stars of heaven Yet thou my plagues reduced hast to seven Alas all seven doe scarce to one amount Justly I cannot count Them altogether half a plague they goe But for a stroak or so And only serve to let me understand They come not from a judg but fathers hand A wise and tender father that doth smite In mercy not in spite Not to avenge himself but me t' amend Which is the chiefest end In all his chastisements he wil not break The bruised reed not quite o'rethrow the weak But having humbled him most gently then Raiseth him up again O Lord do so by me and shew thy strength In my weak state at length That like a Tree on both sides rock't by th' wind I may grow strong in body and in mind Stronger in both to serve thee and to give Thee thanks that yet I live And let me use this my recovered health Not to increase my wealth Or spend it on my lust as is mens fashion But to thy glory and mine own salvation Upon a great showre of snow that fel on May day 1654. YOU that are weather-wise and pretend to know Long time before when it wil rain or snow When 't wil be faire or foul when hot or cold Here stand and gaze a while I dare be bold To say you never saw the like nay more You never heard the like of this before Since Snow in May you may hereafter make A famous Epoch in your Almanack Prodigious 't is and I begin to fear We have mistook the season of the yeer 'T is Winter yet and this is Christmas day Which we indeed miscal the first of May Summer and winter now confounded be And we no difference betwixt them see Only the Trees are blossomed and so The Glassonbury Hawthorn us'd to doe Upon the day of Christs nativity As Cambden tels in his Chorography The youths for cold creep in the Chimneys end Who formerly the day did sprightly spend In merry May-games now they hang the head And droop as if they and their sports were dead Perhaps some superstitious Cavalier That lov'd to keep his Christmas wil go near To make an ill interpretation Of this and cal 't a judgment on the nation For our despising of that time and season Against the ancient custome and right reason As he conceives and since wee 'l not allow One in December w' have a Christmas now But wee a better use may make of it And though not to our minds the Weather fit Yet to our souls convert the same and thence Extract this wholesome holy inference From this unseasonable change of weather Without us what 's within us we may gather When in our hearts the Summer should begin And graces grow 't is Winter by our sin All frost and snow nothing comes up that's good The fruits o' th' Spirit nipt are in the bud Our May's turn'd to December and our Sun Declines before he half his course hath run O thou the Son of Righteousnesse display Thy beams of mercy make it once more May Within our soules let it shine warm and clear Producing in us yet a fruitful year Let it dissolve our snow into a showre Of hot and penitent tears which may procure A blessing on the Nation and at last A General pardon for all faults are past The Conclusion To my dread Soveraigne And deer Master CHRIST JESUS King of Kings THou King of Kings and Lord of Lords I owe my self and all I have to Thee My Muse no tribute now affords But what first comes from thine own Treasurie A leafe of praise Is all that I can raise And yet that leafe is taken from Thy Tree of grace thou graftedst in my heart Accept it then since it doth come From that stock which to me thou didst impart It is thine own To all the world be 't known I do confesse the ground in which 'T is set is poor and long hath barren been For how alas could it be rich When nought but thorns and thistles grew therein O let thy grace Above my sins take place And in my heart the upper hand Let it stil have a happy victorie That I thy Champion may stand Undaunted 'gainst all that opposeth thee So whiles I live I shall thee praises give Or if whiles in this Vale I stay To praise thee well wil be too hard a thing Then to thy holy hil convey My soul where I may Hallelujahs sing In an higher And better tuned Quire FINIS
devise So on his head thou shalt heap coals of fire And softly melt his heart to thy desire So maist thou make thy foe to be thy friend And whom thou canst not break thus gently bend To the common Drunkard falsely called a Good Fellow CAnnot friends meet but they must drink t' excess Must all your mirth conclude in drunkenness Accurst be he brought it in fashion first Before ye were content to quench your thirst And not exceed three or four cups at most Now you carouse till all your reasons lost And like to overheated Dutch men yee Drink till ye fight and fall to snicker snee He that invites his friend t'a drunken feast Keeps out the man and entertains the beast A feast 't is not but a base Bacchanal Where the beast man a Sacrifice doth fall Worse then a beast he is for no beast will Be made to drink a drop more then his fill But man his belly makes a tun his brain A hog and drinks till up it comes again Vile man whom God next t' Angels did create Below a Bruit thus to degenerate For shame give o're this most unmanlike sin Which too long hath thy daily practise bin Redeem thine honour drown'd in Ale and Wine And thy soul settled on the Lees refine When thy debauched life thou shalt correct Thou happier daies in England maist expect Upon an old man holding an Infant between his arms of his own begetting HEre Natures contradiction behold The extremity of Ages young and old The two first Books of Moses Genesis And Exodus bound up together 't is May sitting in Decembers lap the Spring With Auâ—umn joyn'd together in a ring Youth in the bud new started from the womb Sâ—akes hands with age now dropping in the Tomb The worlds beginning and the end together The day and night Sunshine and rainy weather Nonage and dotage generation Met with corruption and the Creation O' th' child the dissolution proves to be O' th' father who destroy'd himself whiles he Begets a son and like the Phoenix from His dust and ashes doth another come To one that married a very rich but a very deformed woman WHo is 't that sayes it was not love Which you unto this match did move 'T was love but love of money sure That thus to wed did you allure 'T was not the beauty which doth lye In your wives cheek or lip or eye Or any other part that shines Save only in her golden Mines It were the Angels in her chest That first made love within your brest There sit the Cupids there the Graces Reside in those red and white faces In having one wife you have many Each bag a wife is how then can ye Chuse but be rich for such as these Bring put to use will soon increase Nor will their bâ—â—uâ—y fade for th' are At fifty more then fifteen fair As pure good meâ—tal as refin'd An age hence as when they were coin'd Provided you keep them in bands From falling into hucksters hands If Pleasure be not Profiâ—'s in Your match Poligamy's no sin In a free Sâ—ate you may be bold To marry every piece of Gold Though they so numerous be as will The Great Turks vast Seraglio fill Yet take my counsel look well to them For many chances will undo them They may be call'd in by the State And valued at a lower rate They may be rounded and defaced Or with worse mettal be debased They may perhaps suffer a rape Be plundred from you should they scape These Accidents yet wings have they Like Cupid and will flee away Leaving you little else behind But your sad choise and sadder mind For when your money 's gone your wife Will stay to vex you all your life His opinion concerning disputations in the Country where the Major part of the Auditory are Illiterate persons 'T is seldome seen a popular dispute Doth any good you may perhaps confute But not convert a heretick he wil Say what you can hold fast his errour stil Besides the vulgar Auditors do weigh All arguments as their affections sway Not as their reason and think that the best Which with most noise and eagernesse is prest So they adhere unto the worser side Or go away much more unsatisfi'd Then they came there like some young Conjurers spel Raising more divels up then he can quel Or lay again like Bees the common rout Wil swarme about your ears and buzze you out But humme the Factions up and lowdly cry On your Antagonists side Victory Forbear then such disputes henceforth to move For fear they should the Churches ruine prove These points are fitter for the Press or Schooler It is the best way not to answer fools According to their folly which wil rise Higher by opposing let alone it dies Upon his late Ague or the new Feaver as it was call'd WHat a strange thing 's this Ague which doth make Me like an earthquake first with cold to shake Then like mount Etna burn with fervent heat And by and by dissolve into a sweat Sure 't is some Cacodamon by his art Insinuating himselfe in every part Now in the head then in the back it lies Sometimes i' th' stomack sometimes in the thighs Now like a Souldier whom nothing can fray He sets upon me boldly at midday Then like a thief steals on me late at night Or early e're th' approach o' th' morning light Shame of Physicians 't is for all their tribe Cannot a certain remedie prescribe Faustus or some such Conjurer would be The better Doctor in this cure for he Might by his magick charms perhaps expel This freezing burning sweaâ—ing spirit of hel If then it wil no oâ—her way be gone I wil turne Conjurer but an holy one And with my prayers to heaven exorcise This evil spirit thus Let God arise with healing in his wings and first begin To heal my souls disease and sicknesse sin Then let this great Physician apply A salve to cure my bodies malady Thou that didst legion with a word expel But speak the word thy servant shal be wel The Accident WAs it by negligence or accident That in my sicknesse as my servant went To warme my bed some ashes she let fall Neither perhaps but 't was prophetical Foretelling that I must to ashes turn And shortly be inclosed in my urne And if that providence hath so decreed Welcome i' th' name of God let Death succeed His elder brother Sleep and then give way To Life again such as the saints enjoy Now on my grave I think and yet not quake Since thence as from my bed I shal awake When I lie down in dust I doe not die But take a nap and rise t' eternity My soul shall reassume it's dust again And in a blessed union stil remain Upon his Recovery from his Ague WHat shal I render unto thee my God Since thou hast with thy rod In measure me corrected to prevent A sharper punishment That I may not
all Albeit I did him often call O then take heed do not delay The hearing of my voice a day The thief o' th' Crosse no pattern is For thy deferr'd repentance his VVas extraordinary thou Ought'st not to look for the like now VVhen Christ is crucifi'd once more Presume upon it not before Psalm 119.67 Before I was afflicted I went astray but now have I kept thy word MAn like a silly sheep doth often stray Not knowing of his way Blind Deserts and the wilderness of Sin He daily travels in There 's nothing wil reduce him sooner then Afflictions to his pen He wanders in the Sunshine but in rain And stormy weather hastens home again Thou the great Shepherd of my soul O keep Me thy unworthy sheep From gadding or if fair means wil not do it Let soul then bring me to it Rather then I should perish in my error Lord bring me back with terror Better I be chastized with thy rod And shepherds staff then stray from thee my God Though for the present stripes do grieve me fore At last they profit more And make me to observe thy word which I Neglected formerly Let me come home rather by weeping cross Then still be at a losse For health I 'd rather take a bitter pil Then eating sweet-meats to be alwayes ill Prov. 4.18 The path of the Just is as the shining light that shineth more and more unto the perfect day THe just mans life 's the path to heaven Though narrow yet 't is even No dark nor obscure way But shining bright as is the day And as the day 's each minute brighter so He step by step doth to perfection go No violent motion 't is but creeps A gentle pace and peeps Like break of day a light That 's chequer'd betwixt black and white Till it increasing more and more appear A perfect day within the Hemisphere The man new started from his sins VVhen he his race begins Just so much light he hath To shew him that there is a path VVhich leads to heaven though scarce enough to guide His feet from slipping sometimes on each side A little now a little then As he Christ cur'd saw ' men VValking at first like trees So doth the righteous by degrees Each cross he meets at first seems more then man A Gyant in his way to Canaan But as his light his courage growes And then away he throwes His fears takes heart of Grace And boldly looks the world i' th' face Bids do its worst and what before did seem A Monster now a Pigmy he doth deem Vice in his Native colours he Sees and hates perfectly Vertue 's the thing alone That he makes his companion Adding of grace to grace till that his Sun To the Meridian of his day hath run And then like Joshuah's fixed stands To do all Gods commands Nor shall it e're go down But glory shall his graces crown And make one constant day that knowes no night Nor lessening nor augmenting of his light Lord let thy grace about me shine That I may not decline The path which leads to thee And may it still increasing be Till grace and glory shall unite their rayes Into one perfect light that ne're decayes Prov. 18.14 A wounded spirit who can bear IS 't possible who will believe A spirit can wounded be and grieve What hath no body needs no blows to fear Yet 't is most true Gods word tells you A wounded spirit who can bear One thing there is a soul will wound So deeply that 't will bleed and swound And even dye for grief for shame for fear Sin is the thing Doth all this bring A wounded spirit who can bear Sin 's a two edged sword which slayes The soul of man a thousand wayes It kil'd the divell though he a Spirit were For dead he is To Grace to bliss A wounded spirit who can bear That man whose conscience within Is galled with a crying sin How much it wracks him how it doth him tear No tongue can tell 'T is worse then hell A wounded spirit who can bear Since then it so torments the mind O Lord let me this favour find Prevent me with thy grace whiles I live here That I may be From great sins free An innocent spirit let me bear Or if that favour be too high Yet this I pray thee not deny That soveraign Balsom though it cost thee deer Thy blood I mean To wash me clean A cleansed spirit I can bear Eccles. 12.1 Remember now thy Creator in the dayes of thy youth KInd is that piety which doth begin In youth e're 't is accustom'd unto sin The mind white paper is and will admit Of any Lesson you will write in it What 's then imprinted there doth firmly stand Not to be blotted out by any hand But when that vice hath first took up the place 'T will be a double labour one to rase Out that which long hath got possession Another for to make a new impression And a much harder task you wil it find To root out vice then vertue plant i'th'mind To cast one Divel out is greater pain Then two good Angels there to entertain To keep a Vessel sweet is not so much As when once sowred 't is to make it such And look at first how it hath season'd blâ— It will retain that odour still therein He that ne're thinks on God till he is old Gray headed and his blood froze up with cold Wrack with Diseases one foot in the grave Whom all the Art of Physick cannot save A Colledg of Physicians not reprieve Or keep his carkass scarce a day alive O what a business it will be to climb To heaven by penitence when there 's no time Nor means for him to do it in but he By vertue of his faith not works must be Rapt thither in an instant as if heaven Would be to him at the first asking given But man remember thy Creator now Whiles God both time and means doth thee allow Trust not thy soul upon a broken reed Faith without works will stand in little steed When thy first dayes and best in sin are past Think not God will accept thy worst and last Eccles. 12.7 Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was and the Spirit shall returne to God that gave it OUr famous Harvey hath made good The circulation of the blood And what was paradox we know To be a demonstration now The like in bodies doth befall Civil as well as Natural Such revolutions in them found That they are alwaies turning round We knew a kingdome which of late Converted was into a State And from the hands of many men That State devolv'd to one agen VVe know that wealth which now doth flow I' th' City veins did lately grow I' th' Country furrowes and the same Soon runs to th' place from whence it came VVe know our bodies frame of dust At first created was and must Crumble to dust ere long we
fall Made them and an Apostle divels all To gather Churches then 's a vaine attempt As if you could have any quite exempt From sinful men when do what e're you can The hypocrite wil be the holy man And put as good a face on 't as the best Purge ne're so much your body there will rest Some noxious humours in 't some Judas wil In spite of you lie lurking in it stil Christs Church is likened by him to a field Which tares and wheat confusedly doth yeeld And he commandeth us to let both grow Together til the harvest left that now By hastie separation e're the day We not good husbands but the wilde Bores play Rooting up both whereas they both should stand And waite the weeding of the Angels hand You 'l say by Tares is meant the hypocrite Which cannot be discerned by our sight Being only knowne to God and therefore we May mix with him in our society Whereas the wicked is so easily known We may and ought shun his communion Why then did Christ into his fellowship Take Judas suffer him to kisse his lip Cal him by' th' name of friend nay give him leave The holy Sacrament for to receive Although he knew his heart and all the evil He had conceiv'd which made him up a divel And so no hypocrite to Christ was he What shall we purer then our Saviour be ' Tâ—s true the childrens bread should not be cast To dogs yet of the crumbs the dogs may taste And who knowes but the tasting of them may Turn dogs to Christians ere they goe away The Word alone converts a wicked mind Much more the Word and Sacrament combind Both holy be And if we must for bear To give the Sacrament to some for fear Of profanation Why do we dispense The Word to all men without difference Or if we must not give it 'cause it may Prove death to some that take it the wrong way The very same may of the Word be said Therefore to preach it we should be afraid To mixed Congregations left that some Should worser then they were before become This only so falls out by accident 'T is neither in the Word nor Sacrament God commonly by them grace on us pours If it prove death the fault 's not theirs but ours It is the duty then of every one To fit himself for this communion And if the Minister the danger tell Of taking it unworthily 't is wel His own soul he delivers if he do it Upon their peril 't is that wil come to it We wish the Church invested were again With power notorious sinners to restraine And excommunicate them too til then We may reprove but not correct these men It is our hearts desire and we pray That every one rightly receive it may And that no Judas any more may be Admitted to this blest Society But this is rather to be wisht then found In this craz'd age where more are sick then sound More traitors then are faithful twelve to one How can we then make separation For if we wil not partial be but just Scarce one of twelve into our flock we must Receive and then how many little flocks Wil there be of us subject to the mocks Of all our enemies and whiles that each Intends his own particular the breach Wil wider grow i' th' general and we May seek a Church but stil to seek shal be John 14.2 I go to prepare a place for you WHat a high favour 's this That God should be mans harbinger to blisse When John prepar'd the way before thy face O Christ 't was no smal grace Unto the Baptist then Much greater dost thou now bestow on men In that thou goest before to make us roome In heaven against we come Lord we were not more glad At thy first coming then we should be sad At thy departure didst not thou impart This cordial to our heart Chearing our spirits thus That thou possession tak'st of heaven for us Thou in our flesh hast entered there and we By vertue thereof be Assured of our places As soone as ever we have run our races With all the Patriarchs we shal sit down And there receive our Crown It is then fit and just That we should think of shaking off our dust And laying downe our earthly Tabernacles Which are to us as shackles And hinder our souls flight To those blest Mansions which are ours by right Let us not dreame of setting up our rest Til w' are of heaven possest That is our center that Our country is our proper place whereat All our endeavours must aim since we are ne're At home til we come there O thou that art the way And wanâ—'st the way before us grant we may Follow thy steps so close that in the end We may that place ascend John 14.6 I am the Way the Truth and the Life I Came from heaven to be your guide and I Am he by whom your path to heaven doth lie The steps I trod on earth are th' only right Way to those Mansions of most glorious light The doctrine which I taught you is the whole Truth which if follow'd wel wil save your soul And bring you to those joyes shall never end The joyes to which blest spirits doe ascend Life without death to that your hopes must tend Acts 9.4 Saul Saul why persecutest thou me NEver was union seene So strict as that between Christ and his members though in hevaen he be And we on earth yet see We cannot suffer here but strait he cryes And feels our miseries As if they were his own So wel to him th' are known That what e're persecutions we sustain He hath the greatest share and wil complaine Talk not what vertue lies In secret sympathies As that between the loadstone and the steele Which do at distance feele Each others force and by an innate love This unto that wil move Or that betwixt the wound And Talbot powder found Or of that sensitive plant whose vertue 's such That it contracts it self at every touch All these though very rare Secrets in nature are But grace a stronger sympathy doth make 'Twixt Christ and us we take New life from him as he took flesh from us We now are one and thus Our wounds are his our smart Grives him unto the heart Who touch us touch the apple of his eye A tender part how can he chuse but cry You then that persecute And all your arrowes shoot Against the truly Christian know that you One day shall deerly rue And pay for this your spite your arrowes all On your own head shal fall You 'l find it hard to kick Against the sharpest prick And whiles you aime at man you shoot far wide Hitting your God thorow your brothers side Why then my soul art thou So sad because that now By wicked men thou persecuted art Thy Saviour bears a part And wil revenge thy cause against thy foes His hand thy wounds wil
hel The Antipodes WHy art so sad and sullen O my Muse That now to make a verse thou dost refuse Must thou be mov'd by a reward to raise Thy fancie up Lo here 's a sprig of Bayes To make a lawrel if that wil not do it Meere indignation wil create a Poet Art thou not angry yet at these mad times Canst thou forbeare to write Satyrick rhimes A rod is good for mad men in their fits 'T wil them restrain if not restore their wits The world is a great Bedlam where men talke Distractedly and on their heads doe walk Treading Antipodes to all the Sages And sober minded of the former ages They were content good souls with slender meat Such as their gardens yeilded they did eate A sallet bread and water fresh that ran From the next spring did dine a Gentleman They were content good souls for to be clad In skins which from the beasts backs could be had And so it did them from the cold defend It was enough they had no other end They were content to sit under the shade Of their own Vine ne're offering to invade Their neighbours or take arms them to oppresse So they their own might quietly possesse They were content with such instructions as From their own Priests and Prophets mouths did passe And with that fear and reverence did them hear As though the only oracles they were It was the golden age of the world then When merit and not mony raised men Grace was their gold their hearts were the rich mine Where vertues most transparently did shine Faces about now and behold the sceane Turn'd topsie turvie all things changed cleane No fare contents us but what 's fetcht from far And deerly bought and cookt with curious care And dainty sauces thus with art we strive Our appetites to kil and to revive We of our bellies Gods do make and thus Are gluttons beyond Heliogabulus No drink contents us but the richest wine And strongest beer which we swil in like swine Keeping no meane but quaffing round about Til all the wine 's in and the wit is out No clothes content us but the richest stuffe And costâ—iest die else 't is not gay enough Nay it is nothing worth unlesse the fashion Come like Queen Sheba from a forraign nation We change our habits like the moon our shapes With Proteus and are made the Frenchmens Apes No living wil to us contentment yeild But we must stil be laying field to field Wishing this Lordship purchasing that Farme If mony wanting be then force of arm Shal make it ours or subtiltie of wit One way or other we wil compasse it No teaching now contents us the old way The Lay-man is inspired every day Can pray and preach ex tempore he Priest With all his learning is despis'd and hist Out of the Church and some have lately fed He should be shortly brought to beg his bread We 've nothing of the golden age unlesse That Gold 's our Grace and Gaine 's our godlinesse Not manners now but monie makes a man Yea many think it makes a Christian As if none were religious but the rich And the poor body damn'd were for a witch Dost see my Muse the world turn'd upside down The Prince on foot whiles mounted is the clown The beggar now a purchaser and hee That was worth thousands brought to beggerie Dost thou behold all this and canst be mute Come take thy bow and arrowes aim and shoot The sharpest of them cast thy keenest dart At this mad age and strike it to the heart Come dip thy pen in vinegar and gall And never leave til thou hast vented all Thy just spleen on it if it stil grow worse Let it expect not thine but Gods great curse To a Gentlewoman that was extremely troubled with the Tooth-ach I Grieve and wonder so great pain You should from one smal tooth sustaine That you can neither eate nor drink Nor aâ—l the night scarce sleep a wink Yet to your comfort this I 'll say That to hell pains 't is but a toy A pleasure if compar'd it were To what the damned suffer there If in one tooth such anguish lies What torments from that fire arise This in a night or two is past But that doth infinitely last In this one member akes no more In that all members o're and o're In this the body doth but smart In that the soul too beats her part Think then that this is all the hell Which you shal feele and you are wel Upon a Passing Bel. HEark how the Passing Bel Rings out thy neighbours knel And thou for want of wit Or grace ne're think'st on it Because thou yet art well Fool in two dayes or three The same may ring for thee For deaths impartial dart Wil surely hit thy heart He will not take a fee Since then he wil not spare See thou thy self prepare Against that dreadful day When thou shalt turn to clay This bel bids thee beware Upon the setting of a Clock-Larum O What a drowzie lump of flesh is man Whose life being no longer then a span Great part of that short span is past away In sleep so that 't is hard for us to say Whether we live or no for whiles that we Repose our selves dead to our selves we be Without all motion and intelligence Till this shril Larum quicken our dulsense And make us living souls to th' day arise Like Adam when he opened first his eyes Yet this sleep 's short and sweet if we compare It to that other wherein many are Profoundly steep'd a spiritual sleep in sin The major part o' th' world is drowned in That but the Body's nap we know to be This the souls everlasting Lethargy Unlesse God waken it to that intent He hath to man a treble Larum sent His Word first from his Prophets mouth did beat A Parley and from sin sound a Retreat Saying Thou sleeper wake attention give To what I say hear and thy soul shall live Let not thy sins turn day into black night Rise from the dead and Christ shal give thee light And left this Larum should not be of force From this dead sleep in sin to raise a Course He sets a second that with secret art Besides the eare pierceth the very heart His spirit it is and when the other failes To rouze the sleepie sinner this prevailes But if his eares and heart be so fast barr'd That neither of these larums wil be heard Then sounds a third Gods judgements powring down Upon his head and making it ring noone Flashing like lightning ratling too like thunder Parting his soule and body far asunder Til so from sleep in sin he fal at last To sleep in death and in the grave is cast From which he shall not wake before he heare Th' Archangels dreadful larum in his eare Saying Arise ye dead to judgment come And from Christs mouth receive your final doome Scylla and Carybdis TWo gulfs there are 'twixt