Poetical fragments heart-imployment with God and it self : the concordant discord of a broken-healed heart ... / by Richard Baxter.

LOVE Breathing THANKS and PRAISE.

The First Part.

ETernal God, this Worm lifts up the head, And looks to Thee, by Thee encouraged. Cheer'd by thy Bounty, it would speak thy praise, Whose wondrous Love hath measur'd all my daies: If thou vouchsafe to make a Worm rejoyce, Give him a thankful praising heart and voice. Thy shining Glory blessed Angels see: Angels must sing thy Highest praise, not we: But if thy warming beams cause Worms to speak, Their baser part will not the Consort break.

When Time was yet no measure; when the Sun Its rapid motion had not yet begun; When Heav'n, & Earth, & Sea, were yet unfram'd, Angels and Men, and all things else unnam'd; When there did nothing else exist but Thee, Thou wast the same, and still the same wilt be: When there was none to know or praise thy Name, Thou wast in perfect Blessedness the same. The Father, Word and Spirit, One in Three, Trinity doth with Unity agree. Th' Eternal Life, that quickens all that lives; The soul of souls; the Light which all Light gives Immense and boundless, present every where: Beyond all place and creatures, thou art there, Uncomprehended, comprehending all: Foreknowing whatsoever shall befall. Uncaus'd, thou causest all that hath a Being: Unknown, thou know'st; unseen, thou art all-seeing. Though necessary, yet without constraint; Unmov'd, yet moving all, dost never faint. All things depend on Thee; and Thou on none; And changing all things, art unchang'd alone. One in th' innumerable multitude; Perfectly ordering things which seem most rude. Infinite Power, one accent of whose breath, Can sentence Heav'n and Earth to life or death. Yea, by one act of efficacious Will Canst make and unmake worlds; give life, and kill. Reason transcending all created Reason; Not only knowing all things in their season,

But with a Knowledge perfect, infinite, Knowing Thy self in Thine Eternal Light. A knowledge which doth utterly excel, The Knowledge of the Earth, the Heav'ns & Hell; To know ten thousand worlds, were but to know The finite streams which from thy Will do flow: Existents, Futures, all Contingencies Conceal'd from man, are naked to thine eyes: Of every thing thou know'st the Form and Cause; As giving all their Nature and their Laws. Nature's whole frame is but one piece to thee. The Place and Use of all things thou dost see. The Globes of Heav'n and Earth are in thy span; Thou seest not things by parcels, like poor Man. Our narrow minds see here and there a letter, Not rightly plac'd, and therefore read no better: We make the Events of this day our sorrow, Because we know not what will be to morrow. Things present, past and future; old and new, Thou see'st entirely with one single view. Thou seest all at home that's understood: Loving thy self, thou lovest all that's Good. Goodness it self, and perfect Excellence, Transcending humane Reason, Will and Sense: Good in thy self, and to thy self alone, Before thou wast to any creature known. Blest in thy own Eternal pleasing sight; Thy own Eternal Love, Thy own Delight.

Those that can find in Thee no greater Good, Than that thou giv'st them life, and health, & food, And bountifully from thy ample Treasure Blessest thy creatures with desired pleasure, Set up themselves, and do the worst they can, To make themselves the Gods, and Thee the Man. They that can love thee but for loving them, Make thee the casket, and themselves the gem. To love thy self is infinitely better, Than if Love made a world of worlds its debter. Thy own Perfections by Attraction move, As the chief formal Object of Man's Love. Though our own Good we may, and must intend; Thy simple Goodness is Man's chiefest End. They that deny this, never knew Love's force, Which to meer Excellence hath its recourse: Or never well considered Love's End, Which unto Good, for Goodness sake doth tend. To be Man's End, is but to be most Lov'd: And Good's the Loadstone by which Love is mov'd. What though to Thee the creature nothing add? That proves Thee perfect; neither weak nor bad; And therefore fit to be the Final Cause, Which all hearts by attractive Goodness draws: Love is the Final and Enjoying act; Closing with Thee by thy Magnetick tract: Not as it mourneth for the Good we want; Nor as it after distant Good doth pant; 〈…〉〈…〉 as it reacheth its desires: And more as it with Pleasure Thee admires.

This Love, besides its Object, hath no End: It doth not to some Higher Virtue tend: But from a seed, grows up to higher stature, Of Divine Complacence, which is its nature. All other Grace is but the means to it: They draw the bow; but Love the mark doth hit. But sinners lost in SELF rise not above The lower Region of their own SELF-LOVE. Experience assures me that I can Love a most learned, wise and holy man Unseen, my very heart is to him knit, Without respect to any benefit. Reason convinceth me, that I should erre, If the known BEST, my Love should not prefer: Should I not rather chuse my self alone To be annihilated, or undone, Than the whole world should bear the same distress, Or Towns, or Countries; seeing I am less? Or the Creator should take down the Sun? Destroy the Earth? or Rivers cease to run? Reason taught Heathens that their Country's good, Was worth the shedding of their vital blood: A faithful Subject thinks his Life a thing Meet to be cast away to save his King. True Souldiers would chuse death, if so they may But save their Captains lives, or win the day. Many have chose to dye through love of friends; Preferring them above all selfish Ends. It is not Reason, but blind selfish Passion, If One refuse to dye to save a Nation.

A silly useless Wretch should not refuse His Death, before a useful mans, to chuse. My Neighbour as my self I must respect, And for my Brethren must my Life reject. (1 Joh. 3. 16.) O doleful proof of Man's unhappy fall! That loves not GOD above Himself and All! And if I love him most, He is my End: Man's Love above the Lover must ascend.

But O how wisely hast thou made the twist! To Love Thee and My Self do well consist. Love is the closure of Connaturals; The Soul's return to its Originals: As every Brook is towards the Ocean bent; And all things to their proper Element: And as the inclination of the Sight, How small soever, is unto the Light: As the toucht Needle pointeth towards the Pole: Thus unto Thee inclines the Holy Soul; It trembleth and is restless till it come Unto thy Bosom, where it is at home. Yet no such Union dare the Soul desire, As Parts have with the Whole, and sparks to fire; But as dependant, low, subordinate, Such as thy Will of nothing did create: As tendeth to the Sun, the smallest Eye Of silly vermine, or the poorest Flie. My own Salvation when I make my End; Full Mutual Love is all that I intend.

And in this closure though I happy be, It's by Intending and Admiring Thee. O happy Grace! which feeds above the Skies! And causest Man above Himself to rise! And saves what it denys! when worldlings lose What they despis'd, and what they lov'd and chose! The more I do my self in Love neglect, And only to thy Goodness have respect, When most my self I from my self abstract, This is the sweetest, and self-pleasing act! Even when I seem to leave my self behind, Coming to Thee, with Thee my self I find. When I am least the Object of my Love, And unto Thee do most entirely move, My Soul, the willing Agent, drawn by Grace, Will Rest in Love, and Vision of thy Face.

But, in this wilderness and vale of Tears, How is Love dampt by ignorance and fears! For no Man's Love his knowledge can exceed: And guilty Terrours disaffection breed. Mortals can know thee but as in a glass. True formal Knowledge doth man's mind surpass. No Thoughts or Names are adequate to Thee: They are but Metaphors from what we see; Which first thy Works and Image signifie; And thence to Thee mens rising Minds apply. As far as Faith comes short of perfect Sight, And this dark Prison of the Glorious Light;

So far this distant mediate Love's below The heavenly Love which mortals cannot know. What will it be to love Thee face to face, When thou appear'st so lovely in this Glass?

Thy Goodness is not to that world confin'd: To worthless, sinful mortals thou art kind: Thy mercies to the smallest are not small: To some more wonderful, but great to all. Thy matchless Power doth it self express, Upon the smallest Worm, or pile of Grass. The Methods of thy Wisdom are profound: All must admire the depths which none can sound.

When Man from Holy Love, turn'd to a Lye, Thy Image lost, became thine Enemy; O what a Seal did Love and Wisdom find To reimprint thine Image on Man's Mind? Thou sentst the Signet from thine own right hand, Made man for them that had themselves unman'd. Th' Eternal Son, who in thy bosom dwelt; Essential burning Love, mens hearts to melt: Thy lively Image; he that knew thy mind: Fit to illuminate and heal the blind. With Love's great Office, thou didst him adorn: Redeemer of the helpless and forlorn: On Love's chief work and message he was sent: Our Flesh he took; our pain he underwent: Thy pardoning, saving Love to Man did preach: The Reconciler stood up in the breach:

The uncreated Image of thy Love, By his Assumption, and the Holy Dove, On his Own Flesh thy Image first imprest; And by that stamp renews it on the rest. Love was his Nature, Doctrine, Life and Breath: Love flamed in his Sufferings and Death: Thus Love thine Image, Love on Man doth print: This Coin, thy Son, thy Word and Spirit mint. He that will have it True, must have it here; Though Love prepare its way by Grief and Fear: Yea oft by these expresseth its Desire; They are sincere when kindled by its fire. These are LOVE's Methods, passing tongue & pen: Wonders and Joys, to Angels, and to Men.

The Second Part.

LOVE, which can make its Object, did produce This Worm, in season, for his proper use: In the Earth's Garden, the most happy Land, Where Christians dwel, & Christian Kings command: Where plenteous streams of living waters flow; Where the first-fruits of Paradise do grow: Whence Proud, Dark, Bloody Popery was driven: To whom the opened Book of God was given. Where sacred guides, and books, and helps abound; And all that will may hear the joyful sound.

My Parents here thy skilful hand did plant, Free from the snares of Riches and of Want. Their tender care was us'd for me alone, Because thy providence gave them but One: Their early Precepts so possest my heart, That taking root, they did not thence depart. Thy Wisdom so contriv'd my Education, As might expose me to the least temptation. Much of that guilt thy Mercy did prevent, In which my spring-time I should else have spent.

Yet Sin sprung up, and early did appear; ••n love of play, and lyes produc'd by fear: An appetite pleas'd with forbidden fruit, A proud delight in literate repute; Excess of pleasure in vain Tales, Romances; Time spent in feigned Histories and Fancies: In idle talk, conform to company; Childhood and Youth had too much vanity. Conscience was oft resisted when it checkt, And holy duty I did much neglect.

Yet patience bore; thy Spirit still did strive: Restless Convictions still were kept alive. Thou wouldst not give me over, till thy Grace Reviv'd thy Image which sin did deface. Thou strangely putst such Books into my hand, As caused me my case to understand: As toucht my conscience, wakened my heart, And laid it under careful fears and sinart. And made me question with a deeper sense, Whither my soul must go when it goes hence.

Then did thy Light detect the vanity Of all the Joys and Hopes below the Sky. The fruitless bussle which the Worldling makes; The madness of the course the Sinner takes; The wicked world I thought a Bedlam was: And sensless Sinners hearts were stone or brass: I wondred men could live so carelesly, Ready to pass into Eternity!

And O how easily could I confute All that against a holy life dispute?

I wondred at my self that staid so long, So little toucht with Arguments so strong! Laughing and playing, as if all were well, For ought I knew, near to the brink of Hell. I marvell'd at my former senslesness! My sin and misery I did confess. And now what horrid darkness on my mind, Never before lamented did I find? Sin was like sickness in my flesh and bone, Which only by the Book before was known.

Christ's Office now I better understood, The need my Soul had of his cleansing Blood: How insufficient of my self I was, To bring my own deliverance to pass: Now I began to feel as well as see, How near the Word of Grace concerned me: That all means else in Heaven and Earth were vain; My Peace with God, and pardon to obtain! To whom else should my sinful Soul have gone? But for my Saviour, I had been undone. Oh my dear God! how precious is thy Love? Thus thou prepar'st us for the Life above.

The heav'nly Powers w^ch made my heart to quake, My Prison bonds and doors did open shake:

Sin now was folly, villany and shame: God, Heav'n, Christ, Holiness, seem not the same: How thou wouldst use me, yet I did not know, Whether my sin thou wouldst forgive, or no: But well I saw there was no turning back: Nature is loth to go to Hell awake: Thy Gospel told me, I might mercy find: Nothing but Hell and Darkness was behind: At last thy Grace brought me to this conclusion, To HOPE and SEEK I fixt my resolution. O my dear God! How precious is thy Love? Thy Griefs prepare us for the Joys above.

Yet these my wounds and smart were not so great, As many's who sate long in scorners seat: Nor did the change so suddenly begin, As to make known when special Grace came in: In my young years thou hadst convinc'd my Soul: Conscience did childish vanity controul: I lik'd thy waies as best: I honour'd those, That Folly shun'd, and Holy Wisdom chose: Thou hadst prevented Oaths and horrid crimes; And the enormous vices of the times: Preserving me from youthful lusts and rage: The thoughts of Thee increasing with my Age. This greatest Change began when I was green, Having not much above three lustres seen: Therefore I doubted whether it were true, Because its entrance I no better knew:

Long was I sadly questioning thy Grace, Because thy Spirits steps I could not trace. The difference is so great 'twixt Heav'n and Hell That those must differ much who there must dwell I fear'd the change which rais'd my soul no higher Would not suffice to save me from Hell fire. But above all, I thought so Hard a heart, Could not among the living have a part. I thought thy Son would never heal my sore, Unless my tears and sorrow had been more. I wonder'd at my great stupidity! That could not weep when I deserv'd to dye. I wonder'd, things so great as Heav'n and Hell, Did on my heart with no more feeling dwell! That words which such amazing things import, Did not sink deeper, and my soul transport! That things of Everlasting consequence, Did not affect me with a deeper sense. And that a soul so near its final doom, Could give these worldly trifles any room. That on these shadows I could cast an eye, While Death & Judgment, Heav'n & Hell stood by. I wonder'd when my odious sin was nam'd, I was no more confounded and asham'd! Many a time I beg'd a tender heart, And never pray'd so much for joy, as smart. I could have kiss'd the place where I did kneel, If what my tongue had spoke, my heart could feel. These were my cryes when I to Thee did speak, O that this heart of stone might melt or break!

These were my groans; this was my daily breath; •• save me from Hard-heartedness and Death! This was the title which I us'd to take, Sensless Hard-hearted wretch, that cannot wake.] But as thy Wisdom gives in fittest measure; Not all at once: It's meet we wait thy leisure. •• thought that things unseen should pierce and melt, With as great Passion as things seen and felt. But now I find it is their proper part, To be most valu'd, to be next the Heart; To be the highest Interest of the soul; There to command, and all things else controul.

Thus must the little spark of fire be blown, Or else it will not flame, nor scarce be known; New-lighted Candles, darkened by the snuff, Are ready to go out with every puff: So it was long before the heav'nly spark Conquered my snuff, and shined in the dark: My feeble new-born soul began with crying: My Infant-life did seem to be still dying: Betwixt supporting Hope, and sinking Fears, My doubting soul did languish many years. O my dear God! how precious is thy Love? Thy troubling Motions tend to Rest above.

Thus GRACE like NATURE entereth in a seed; Which with man's labour, heav'nly dews must feed: Whose Virtue and first Motions no eye sees; But after comes to ripeness by degrees:

Our Father's tender Love doth much appear, When he with useless crying Babes can bear: When we the Houshold's grief and trouble are; He shews the more his patient nursing care. At first I wisht that I could pray and weep: Thus when I could not go, I learn'd to creep: Then thou beganst to loose my Infant tongue; And taught'st me Abba, Father, when but young First by the Book, and some unworded groans; After by heart-indited words and moans. Thy dyet first was Milk, then stronger food: But alwaies that which wholsom was and good. Though Preachers were too often dry and dull, Thy holy Word was quick and powerful: The many precious Books of holy men, Thy Spirit used on me as his Pen: Perkins, Sibbs, Bolton, Whateley, holy Dod, Hildersham, Preston, other men of God, How pertinently spake they to my case? They open'd Heav'n and Hell before my face: They did unfold the Gospel-Mysteries, And set Christ crucified before my eyes: They shamed sin; they shewed me the snare; Opened the danger; charg'd me to beware. In every duty they did me direct; Told me the sin, and danger of neglect: They search'd my heart; help'd me to try my state My earthly Mind they help'd to elevate: What strong & quickening motives did they bring To raise my heart, and winde the slackned spring

These happy Counsellors wero still at hand; The Maps, and Landskips of the Holy Land. This food was not lockt from me; but I could Go read a holy Sermon when I would. How cheaply kept I many Rare Divines? And for a little purchas'd Golden Mines? My griefs they eas'd; my many doubts resolv'd; With great delight I daily then revolv'd: O my dear God! how precious is thy Love? Are these thy Candles? What's the Sun above?

At last my Fears became my greatest Faar, Lest that my whole Religion should lie there: No man hath more of Holiness than Love: Which doth free souls by complacency move Common Grace goes as far as Fear alone: This eateth not the meat, but gnaws the bone. A slavish fear desireth leave to sin: It doth but tie the hands, and wash the skin. Hypocrites act a forc't affected part: Where Love is absent, God hath not the heart. He'l not accept what's done against mens will, That if they durst, had rather have done ill.

Oh my dear God! shall not my Heart be thine? Then I shall wish it never had been mine. Objects of Sense do soonest move the Passion: But sure Thou hast my highest Estimation; My Will's Resolved Choice is to be Thine: My Soul and Body I to Thee resign:

To Thee the motions of my Soul do bend: Thou art the Scope to which my Life doth tend. The Motions of the higher Faculties, The Ruling Powers are chiefest in thine eyes: Thou tak'st the Love and Homage which they pay; Though Rebel Passion doth not them obey, What makes me laugh most, makes me not most glad What made me weep most, made me not most sad: My Love to one choice friend hath oft more passion, Than my much greater Love to Church & Nation. O had I all my Powers at command! As readily as tongue, or foot, or hand! My eyes should empty first the serous store, Because I love so good a God no more: And next some of the florid Blood should spend, Because the God of Love I did offend. The rest should serve for Oil unto Love's Fire, Wasting in restless vehement Desire: At every mention of thy Blessed Name, My ravisht Soul should mount up in Love's flame: Each Sermon should Elias Chariot be, To carry up my longing heart to Thee. The Saints Assemblies I would make more bright, Where many Heav'n-aspiring flames unite. And when my Lord's Love-sufferings I read, My pierced and Love-wounded heart should bleed. Love should enforce each word when I do pray; A Flaming Heart I'd on thy Altar lay: When halving Hypocrites give Thee a part, Love should present my Whole, though Broken heart.

When in thy Word I read Love's Mysteries; There I would sweetly feed my greedy eyes. Each Sacrament should be an Eucharist: There Heart with Heart, & Love with Love should twist. My friends and I would in our daily walk Of Love's Delights and Entertainments talk: My working Love should others Love excite: In Love I'd be a Burning Shining Light. Love through the Lanthorn of my flesh should shine: Who heard me speak, should hear that I am Thine: Remembring that in Love I must be made Equal to Angels; I would learn their Trade: Yea I would reach up to a higher shelf; And as my Copy, look to Christ himself:

Love's work I'd do with all my diligence,* 1.1 Though men should think I were beside my sense.* 1.2

My daily Love should rise before the Sun, And it in speed and constancy out run: Love as my Life should fill up all my daies; Desire should be my Pulse; my Breath thy Praise. And I would winde up all the strings as high, As Blessed Paul was in his Extasie. Heav'nly Love should all my words indite, And be the soul and sense of all I write: My heart of Love's Delights should sweetly think, I'd write with flaming fire instead of Ink:

And yet thy holy Day should be my Best, In it my thirsty Soul should tast of Rest; My daily food should increase to a Feast. O my Dear God! how precious is thy Love? O could I mount thus to the Flames above?

These are Love's pantings after thee, my God! Though, with my Soul, imprison'd in a clod! ☞ My Soul and Love shall shortly be set free; And then my Soul, my Love shall feast on Thee. If thou wouldst grant the very thing I crave, And give me leave to chuse what I would have; Should it be lusts, or Sports, or Fleshly pleasure? Sould it be Lordly Rule, or Earthly Treasure? No; I could gladly leave this Dirt to Swine, And let the World be theirs, if Thou be mine! I would not thirst to tast of their Delight. If lively Faith might see the blessed Sight! I would not be ambitious of a Throne! I could have full content in God alone. For mens Esteem and Praise I would not care: All other Wit and Knowledge I could spare: To Know and Love my God should be my choice: Give me but This, and how shall I rejoyce? Under my hand, Lord, This is it I choose: O give me this, whatever else I lose! Is there no spark of Love in this Desire? When a poor Soul doth unto Thee aspire? To Know and Love thee is my thirst and strife: Nothing more makes me weary of my life,

Than that I feel no more the heav'nly Fire, But look and reach, and yet can reach no higher. Here lyes my pain! This is my daily sore: •• hate my Heart for loving God no more. Do I not Love Thee, when I Love to Love Thee? And when I set up nothing else above Thee? Next GOD himself, who is my END & REST, Love which stands next Thee, I esteem my Best, And Loving God shall be my Endless Feast. O my Dear God! how precious is thy Love? These are thy Earnests of the Life above.

Fear is to Love, as was the Law to Grace: And as John Baptist goes before Christ's face, Preaching Repentance: it prepares his way: It is the first appearing of the Day: The dawning Light which comes before the Sun: As he that to Christ's Scpulchre first run, Excites the LOV'D Disciple to do better; The certain news of Life comes by the later. Fear is Love's Harbinger: It is the womb, Where Love doth breed till time of ripeness come! No wonder if it be not seen till then: The Seed and Embrio are hid from men. Though Thou com'st in by Love, Fear draws the latch: Fear makes the motion, tho Love makes the match: Fear is the soil that cherisheth the feed; The Nursery in which Heav'ns Plants do breed. God first in Nature finds Self-Love, and there He takes advantage to implant his Fear.

With some the time is long before the Earth Disclose her young one by a springy Birth: When Heav'n doth make our Winter sharp & long, The seed of Love lies hid, or seems but young: But when God makes it Spring-time, his approach Takes from the barren Soul its great reproach; When Heav'ns reviving Smiles and Raies appear, Then Love begins to spring up above Fear: And if sin hinder not by cursed shade, It quickly shoots up to a youthful blade: And when Heav'ns warmer beams & dews succeed, That's ripened fruit which even now was but seed: Yet doth not flowring, fruitful Love forget Her Nursing Fear; there still her Root is set: In Humble Self-denyal under-trod, While Flower and Fruit are growing up to God After Love's Birth-Day, holy Fear and Care The outward Part of the New-creature are. As mortal man consists of Flesh and Soul, So Fear and Love, on Earth, do make one Whole. Love, as the Soul, unseen, yet bears the sway: Fear, as the Flesh, more felt, must it obey. By Fear, Love doth the daring Flesh restrain, And keepeth men awake by threatned pain. This frame is mortal: Not that Love can dye; But leaving Fears, will dwell alone on high: Yet will retain a Reverent Fear of God; But not the terrour of his Wrath or Rod. O my Dear God! how precious is thy Love? How wise thy Methods to the Life above?

Thou first appear'dst in Lightning, as to Paul: My heat abated, at thy feet I fall. The voice with which thy Call thou didst begin, Was to convince me, and reprove my sin: I first enquired of thee, who thou art? And then, what duty thou hadst made my part? Thus Fear and Care began; but the sweet Name Of Jesus did reviving Hope proclaim. And though long time it scarcely did appear, Yet sure some hidden spark of Love was there. I lov'd thy Holy Word; Good Books were sweet, Those that did with my own condition meet: Heart-searching Ministers were my delight, ☞ Those that did most my drowsie Soul excite. I dearly loved all in whom I saw A Love to Thee, and Care to keep thy Law: The speech and sight of Holy men was sweet; I honour'd them, and could have kist their feet. I felt their living words go to the quick, When common idle prating made me sick. I dearly lov'd my serious bosom friend, Who did in Love my failings reprehend; That could my doubting troubled mind condole, And help to keep awake my sleepy Soul: Who could unfold the Mysteries of Grace, And speak particularly to my case; Sweetly disclosing his experience; Extolling Mercy from his own deep sense; One that had been instructed by the Rod, And boiled over in the Praise of God:

Who early (and oft in the night) would rise, To offer Thee a Thankful Sacrifice: Who warm'd me with his Zeal when I was cold; And my remissness lovingly controul'd; Who stirr'd me up, and taught me how to pray; And friendly watcht and warn'd me every day. And yet his Piety did not exceed His Charity, to those that were in need. For such a friend I had; though after all, Himself became my warning by his fall; As more than One or Two have done since then; Shewing, when Grace withdraws, we are but Men. O my Dear God! how precious is thy Love? These are the seeds: what are the fruits above?

Yet did I scarce discern that it was Thee, Whom in the Glass my pleased Mind did see: But though thine Image more incur my sense, I love it for the pourtrayd excellence: It's not because the Workmanship is fine, But Good and Holy; and because it's Thine. I better know the Map that's in my hand: But yet, by it, I better Love the Land. Sure when I lov'd thy Books, and every letter; I lov'd the Sense, and End, and Author better. He loveth Wisdom sure, who loves the Wise: It's like he loves the Light, who loves his Eyes. If one in Prison had his life begun, Where he had never seen the shining Sun;

Yet if he dearly love the Candle-light, He'd urely love the Sun, which is more bright. Or if the Sun had alwaies clouded been, And men its scattered Light alone had seen; ••'s true, our Thoughts and Love of that we see, Would more exact and satisfying be: But to the unseen Cause, as it is Better, Our Love of Estimation would be Greater. And even a Knowledge general and dark, Would be the Chooser of our End and Mark. That Love's most sensible, which Sense doth breed; But that Commands, which Faith and Reason feed: The Country than the Map, I must confess, ☞ ••s much less known; but is not known as less. A Creat and Certain Object should do more, Though darkly known, than trifles at my door: An Unseen Kingdom would with men prevail, To leave their Native place, and hoise up sail, And venture over stormy boisterous Seas: W^ch shews that great things, tho unseen, most please. No wonder if the Knowledge be most clear, Or little things which to the sense are near; These narrow parcels we can comprehend, When unseen Greatness, doth the mind transcend: But yet This moves the Wheels, and is the Spring, Before the nearest sight of some small thing. That is most Loved, which I make my End; To which my great designs and actions tend; For which I can all other Treasure spend, Although I do it darkly apprehend.

O my Dear God! how precious is thy Love? Unveiled fully to thy Saints above?

As fire first kindleth on the nearest Wood, My sense thus fixed on the nearest good: And where sense fixed, there with greatest sense The mind did exercise its Complacence. It seem'd more cold to that which distant was; Yet still looks further as I forward pass: And towards my End, the nearer Heav'n I go, My Love abstracteth more from things below. Love seemeth to get ground, and Fear decaies; Doubting & Grief give place to Thanks & Prais•• And tho Fear wrought with greatest sense before, And was in bulk and violence much more; Yet the least spark of Love which is sincere, Will save the Soul, tho mixt with greater Fear: Who loves God somewhat, & the world above him Loving not God as God, he doth not love him: Love must be so far tryed by the measure, That God be Lov'd above all earthly Treasure: But that suppos'd the least degree of Love, With greater Doubts and Fears will saving prove Great Bodies with small souls are animate: Great Heads with little Eyes, are oculate. Small Candles lighten Rooms that are more large A Steward may have spacious Lands in charge. The Kingdom may be bigger than the King: The Diamond may be smaller than the Ring:

The House may bigger than the dweller be: Great Fear and little Love, consistent be. But still true Love to God and Man are known, More by the Fruits, than by the Sense alone. •• must be such a Love, as when there's need, Will venture, suffer, visit, cloath and feed. •• my Dear God! how precious is thy Love? Which gently leads us to the Joyes above?

Love still went on, and lined out my way, Hedging me in, lest I should go astray: Yet after this how oft did I transgress? By light discourse, and wanton play fulness; ••ating to fulness: Yea, even Cards and Dice, Began my mind with pleasure to entice. But Providence did quickly interpose, And by a wonder take me off from those. Sin most ensnar'd by pleading lawfulness; Though Conscience often did the sin confess: That wounded deepest which by seeming small, Drew me to venture, and resist thy Call; And knowingly the same oft to commit, Thinking all Christians had as great as it. Let all that would not be undone by sin, Fly the occasions where it doth begin. At first it's safe and pleasant to resist. But O how doleful is it to persist? Sin doth not open its design at first: Its first appearance sheweth not the worst:

Flattering the sense, it seems to be a friend; But it proves pain and poison in the end. Pray from Temptation that you may be free, If from the evil you would saved be. Repentance must convince you that it's gall, Which first appeared innocent or small. O how it fills the Soul with guilty fears! Our filial Evidences blasts and tears? Disturbs our Peace, and feeds the gnawing Worm Turns our Tranquility into a storm? It puts a piercing sting into the Cross, And makes Death dreadful as the greatest loss. Yet all my folly Mercy did forgive, And did my guilty wounded soul relieve. O my Dear God! how precious is thy Love? Heal me, and fit me for the Joyes above.

Thy Love in order to its well known Ends, Shew'd me great mercy in meet Guides & Friends: Antient and grave Divines, solid and staid, Who from Experience both preach'd and pray'd: Learned, yet counting Christianity The chiefest Learning and Philosophy. These as the Fathers of my untaught Youth, Were willing to communicate the Truth. Their help and fruitful converse was my stay, And great encouragement in all my way; More pleasant to me than my youthful games: My love doth grudgingly suppress their names.

The company thou gav'st me was not vain, ••ot proud or factious, sensual or prophane: ••••t serious, sober, and obedient, Those time was in their peaceful labours spent: ••umble and meek, who made it their discourse, ••o stir up Faith, and penitent remorse. ••inding the Lowest, and the Highest things; ••ot medling busily with States and Kings. Making thy holy Word their chief delight, ••nd meditating in it day and night: ••ending thy day in works of holiness; ••ating prophaneness, lewdness and excess: Content with little, yet aspiring high; ••paring no pains for immortality: Low in the world; but for salvation wise; Though scorn'd by faithless fools as too precise. O my Dear God! how precious is thy Love? Such thou wilt take to dwell with Thee above.

Thy Mercy did my younger Studies guide: Sweet leisure and meet Books thou didst provide; And that I might thy Love the better see, My Tutor thou thy self wast pleas'd to be: As Honey-combs are made by patient Bees, Who fetch the matter home by slow degrees, In many daies, and from a thousand Flowers, Not perfecting their work in a few hours: So taughtst thou me to wait the Learning time, Not reaching first at matters too sublime;

Few to maturity of Knowledge grow, Who think they know, before indeed they know. Thou didst improve the thirsty love of Truth, Which thou hadst given me even in my youth. My Labours thou mad'st easie by delight: Each daies success, did to the next invite. But O the happy Method of thy Grace! Which gave my own Salvation the first place! And first resolv'd me of the utmost end, Which all my after Studies must intend: Shewing me first, Why, and For What I must Lay out my Studies, that they be not lost: Unhappy men! who follow base designs, And are not Christians, when they are Divines! O that an Impious Divine were rare! Although the terms a contradiction are. Alas in what a blind or trembling State, Should I all day have at my Studies sate, And with how little joy, or hope of gains, If I had study'd still in Satan's chains? O foolish Studies! to consider how The Earth is fixed, and the Plants do grow? What is each creatures specifying cause? And what are all their Orders and their Laws? When thy own saving Change is to begin! And thou hast yet no pardon of thy sin? When all the while thou art a Son of Wrath, Who to Eternal Life no title hath? When in thy flow'ring Studies thou may'st dye, And be undone to all Eternity?

Who would be playing at a childish game, While his own House is in a burning flame? What if I knew whether the Earth or Sun So swift and unperceiv'd a course doth run? Or knew the course and order of the sphears? Or were best skill'd in numbering past years? Knew all the Houses of the starry Sky? And things that are for common wits too high? What if I knew all these never so well? And knew not how to scape the flames of Hell? What gain or pleasure would my knowledge be? If I the face of God must never see? Or what if I could fool away my time, In smooth and well composed idle Rhyme? Or dreaming Lovers Fancies could rehearse, In the most lofty and adorned verse? While my unholy Soul, in fleshly thrall, Should be lamenting its own Funeral?

But when my Soul had fixt on God her End, Then all my Studies unto him did tend. They all were ordered in due place and season, Guided by Faith, allowed by sound Reason: Thou taughtst me first the Only Needful Thing; And all my Studies harp'd still on that string: Judging the greatest Knowledge to be vain, Which tendeth not to the Immortal gain. There is a Knowledge which increaseth sorrow, And such whose fruit will die before to morrow:

Yea, there's a knowledge which occasions sin: Desire of Knowing did Man's woe begin: All means are to be judg'd of by their End: That's good w^ch doth good, or doth good portend Its End and Objects which ennoble acts: Those that do glorious things are glorious facts. Who calls a self-condemning sinner, Wise, That on a syllable can criticize; That can in mode and figure talk in vain; Or learnedly his pride and sin maintain? That's best at the resolving of a Riddle, Or playing on a Bag-pipe, or a Fiddle: But hath not learned how to Live and Die, Nor where his Soul must dwell eternally? God and all wise men judge him but a fool, Who is not wise enough to save his Soul. When Heav'n's made sure, all Knowledge then is good For Faith and Love can turn it into food: It's pleasant then to study any Book, When we see GOD the sense, where ere we look: When as the way to Heav'n we know each place: And see God's beauty in each creature's face: And when we stick not in the form and letter, But all our Knowledge tends to make us better. When still the more we Know, the more we Love, And draw more with us to the Joys above. Fine Fancies are not like clear minds; nor those Like Love, by which the Soul with God doth close. Wisdom it self will make the Mind most wise. He that ascends to God, doth Highest rise.

Sure Pisgah was Parnassus, or the Mount, Where three Apostles did three Glories count: Christ's living streams are the true Helicon: None make true Poets but Heav'ns springs alone. What poor, low, toyish work make frothy wits? Like Bacchus Scholars in their Pot-wise fits. Like Childrens Poppets drest with Lace and Pin; Like handsom Pictures; something wants within: A painted Feast, carv'd with a painted Knife: A Living Soul can feel it wanteth Life. Without a Holy Subject, End and Spirit, True Wisdom's sacred Titles none can merit. O my Dear God! how precious is thy Love? These are the drops; what are the streams above?

Immortal thanks my Soul doth owe my God, For his well-order'd needful healing Rod: The Book and Rod do well befit thy School; Correction is the portion of the Fool: The Rod it self will make the Sluggard rise: The Rod and Book make foolish Children wise. I felt or fear'd no evil at the first, But my Soul's misery, which is the worst: Whilst for a Soul-remedy I did look, Thy angry storm my Body overtook: Languishing weakness shortens strength & breath; Consumes my flesh, and threatens speedy death: And what I felt reviv'd the fears of more: For now my Judgment seemed at the door:

I knew not but it might be a foretast Of greater woe which I might feel at last: My new awaken'd Soul amazed was, To think that unto Judgment it must pass, And see the unseen World; and stand before The dreadful God, whom Heav'n & Earth adore! I was unready to behold thy face, Having no more assurance of thy Grace! Having but lately too familiar been, With my seducing flesh and hateful sin: My Thoughts of Thee were terrible and strange! And of so great and an untimely change! The threatned Ruine I did thus condole; O must my scarce-born, unprepared Soul Before my dreadful Judge so soon appear! And the decisive final Sentence hear! And all my Reckonings so soon bring in! And give account to God for every sin! Before I do my Soul's condition know, Or any scaled Pardon have to shew. What if I prove an unconverted Wretch? And Justice should my Soul to torments fetch? How know I but the endless flames of Hell, May be the place where next my Soul shall dwell? Mercy would save me; but I did reject it: Christ's Blood would cleanse it; but I did neglect it. And though I am not hopeless, who can bear To die uncertain under so great fear I: O that my Tunes had all been better spent! And that my ca••••y Thoughts had all been bent

In preparation for the Life to come: That now I might have gone as to my home! And taken up my dwelling with the blest! And past to everlasting Joy and Rest! O that the pleasures of my sports and toyes, Had all been turn'd to man-like holy Joyes! And those Delights which Vanities engrost, And spent on fleshly Lusts, were worse than lost, Had all been sweet Rejoycings in the Lord! And in his holy Service and his Word! O that I could my wasted Time call back, Which now my Soul for greater works doth lack; What would I give now for those precious daies, Which once run out in pleasures and delaies? O had I liv'd a strict and holy Life, Though under hatred and malicious strife! Though Men's and Devil's fury I had born, And been the world's reproach, contempt & scorn! Then welcome Death would but have quencht my thirst,

And bid the envious world now do their worst. Their malice would but to my Joyes accrew, And well-spent Time be sweet to my review. O happy men whose portion is above! Whose hearts to God and to his Service clove! Who made him and his Word their chief delight, And walkt in uprightness, as in his sight! Approv'd their Hearts and Waies to him alone! As ready to appear before his Throne!

Now I had rather far be one of them, Than one of worldly Wealth, or Princely Stem O now my undrest Soul is passing forth, I see both what the World and Christ are worth.

Thus did the face of Death my Soul awake; The bonds of dead stupidity it brake! Strict, holy Truth I easily confest: I saw that Godliness is not a jest. My late besotted mind is now past doubt, That Folly's careless, Wisdom is devout: I saw more clearly than I did before, What lies on an ungodly Sinners score? For what man's pow'rs were made, what is their use▪ To what all means and mercies do conduce? What is man's business while he's here below? How much his creatures to their Maker owe? Whether the Saint or Brute be in the right? Whether it's best to live by Faith or Sight? What is true Wit? what Learning's most sublime? How I and all should value precious Time? I saw it's not a thing indifferent, Whether my Soul to Heav'n or Hell be sent.

Death also further taught me how to pray, And made me cry unto thee every day; It set me on the trying of my state, Lest I should prove deceiv'd when 'twas too late. Often and carefully I searcht my heart, Whether in Christ by Faith I had a part?

It shew'd me so much work to do at home, That alien needless matters found small room. It curb'd my Pride, and buryed my Ambition; Made me, not only bear a low condition, But chuse it; and all things to estimate, As God, my Soul, and Heav'n should set the rate. For now, as clearly as I saw the Sun, I saw in lines which they may read that run, That Endless things are All, when we compare, And transitory trifles Nothing are: That Worldlings in their sleep do talk and go, And all their lives are but a dreaming shew: Only the true Believer lives awake, And doth not spend his daies in meer mistake: That all who are not Saints, are worse than Brutes. These, O my Father! were thy Rod's first-fruits. O my Dear God! how precious is thy Love? Thus we rebound up to the Joyes above.

Long thus before my God I lay prostrate, Begging for healing mercy at his gate! And for some longer time, to know his Truth, And not unripe to wither in my Youth! I begg'd that hasty Death he would delay, And would not snatch me unprepar'd away. I promised his mercies to rehearse, If he the dreadful Sentence would reverse. Could I have hop'd for Hezekiah's years, I should no more than he, have spared tears.

Yet hath thy Mercy granted me since then, More than thrice five, yea more than four times ten My moan thou pity'dst, and my cryes didst hear Delaying Death; not taking off my fear: The threatning malady thou didst abate; And into many others didst translate; Which gave me hope of some preparing space; But none that Earth would prove a Resting place. Appointing me to serve in gentle Chains, In wholsom sickness, and in healing pains! So great as might my head-strong thoughts restrain From running after things terrene and vain: Yet were they not so great as to make less, My Service, or my sober chearfulness: O what a happy mixture didst thou make! How meet a course did thy wise Mercy take? This was the pregnant blessing, kept for store, Which multiply'd into a thousand more! Which hath run parallel with all my daies; For which I owe thee everlasting praise: Too great for Volumes; too high for a Verse: And therefore endless Life must them rehearse.

1.

A Life still near to Death, did me possess With a deep sense of Time's great preciousness. To lose an hour I thought a greater loss, Than much of sordid worldlings golden dross. I thought them mad that cast their time away, Being uncertain of another day.

That idly prate, and play, and feast, and drink, So near Eternity's most dreadful brink! With filthy, guilty Souls, unjustifi'd; Undone for evermore if thus they dy'd. O! thought I, where is these men's brains and sense, Who care no more whither they go from hence? Pastime I thought worse than a Bediam word: The Name and Thing my very Soul abhorr'd.

2.

This methodiz'd my Studies to my gain; Sham'd the contending, jingling, formal vein: The greatest matters it did first impose: Necessity my Book and Lesson chose: I study'd first to save my self and others; What edifi'd my own Soul and my Brothers: Thence to the Branches I in order clime; First Few and Great, next Many, Small, Sublime. I nere preferr'd to Talk, before, to Eat, Words, before Things, the Dish before the Meat: And yet I love and value all the rest: My curious mind would fain have known the least: But knowing Life's too short to reach to all, I left till last the needless things and small.

3.

The frequent sight of Death's most awful face, Rebuk'd my sloth, and bid me mend my pace! Thou knew'st my dulness needed such a spur; So prone was I to trifle and demur. Who dare his Soul for gain or pleasure sell, That lives as in the sight of Heav'n and Hell?

4. This call'd me out to work while it was day; And warn poor Souls to Turn without delay: Resolving speedily thy Word to Preach; With Ambrose, I at once did Learn and Teach. Still thinking I had little time to live, My fervent heart to win mens Souls did strive. I Preach'd, as never sure to Preach again, And as a dying man to dying men! O how should Preachers Men's Repenting crave, Who see how near the Church is to the Grave? And see that while we Preach and Hear, we Die, Rapt by swift Time to vast Eternity! What Statues, or what Hypocrites are they, Who between sleep and wake do Preach & Pray? As if they feared wakening the Dead! Or were but lighting sinners to their Bed! Who speak of Heav'n and Hell as on a Stage! And make the Pulpit but a Parrot's Cage? Who teach as men that care not much who learns; And Preach in jest to men that sin in earns. Surely God's Messenger, if any man, Should speak with all the seriousness he can; Who treateth in the Name of the Most High, About the Matters of Eternity! Who must prevail with sinners Now or Never, As those that must be saved Now, if Ever: When sinners endless Joy or Misery, On the success of his endeavours lie! Though God be free, he works by Instruments, And wisely fitteth them to his intents.

A proud unhumbled Preacher is unmeet To lay proud sinners humbled at Christ's feet: So are the Blind to tell men what God saith, And faithless men to propagate the Faith. The Dead are unfit means to raise the Dead; And Enemies to give the Children Bread: And utter strangers to the Life to come, Are not the best Conductors to our home: They that yet never learn'd to Live and Die, Will scarcely teach it others feelingly: Or if they should Preach others to Salvation, Unhappy men that Preach their own Damnation.

How oft did I come down with shame and grief! Not that I was so homely, or so brief; But that my own Soul was no more awake, And felt no more the things of which I spake! That God was nam'd with no more Reverence; Nor sinners pitty'd with a deeper sense: That closer warnings did not pierce men's Ears, Set home by greater fervency and tears: And that my speeches were so cold and sleight, About things of unutterable weight; And that I spake with no more seriousness, When Heav'n or Hell attended the success: As one that sees by Faith the Joyes and Woes, To which the godly and the wicked goes. O my Dear God! how precious is thy Love? How should we prize and seek the Joyes above?

Thy Methods crost my waies: my young desire To Academick Glory did aspire: Fain I'd have sate in such a Nurses Lap, Where I might long have had a sluggard's nap Or have been dandled on her Reverend Knees; And known by honour'd Titles and Degrees; And there have spent the flower of my daies, In soaring in the Air of humane praise: Yea and I thought it needful to thy Ends, To make the prejudiced world my friends; That so my praise might go before thy grace, Preparing men the Message to embrace; Also my work and Office to adorn, And to avoid prophane contempt and scorn. But these were not thy thoughts; thou didst foresee That such a course would not be best for me: Thou mad'st me know that mens contempt & scorn Is such a Cross as must be daily born: Thy Mercy would not have me splendid dross; A Minister of Pomp; but of the Cross: That Cross which Hypocrites may Preach & Hear, But all that follow Christ must also bear. No Honour must I have to bring to thee, But what thou first communicat'st to me In founding of thy Church, thou didst declare How well all worldly Honours thou couldst spare! Both in the Chief most blessed Corner Stone, And in the most of those that built thereon: And what great swelling Names have done since then, Church-Rents and Ruines write without a Pen:

High Titles as the first inchanting Cup, Cast down the Church by lifting of it up. Titles reflect on Minds. These must be low: By humble Love all must thy Servants know: Yet I deny not but a perfect mind, May more advantage here than danger find: Thy Soil is oft manured by such dung. I'le Honour give to whom it doth belong: It may be safe to others; but to me 'Twas best from such Temptations to be free: Let my preferment lye in serving all: While I sit low, I have not far to fall. Keep me from the Temptations of the Devil! For so thou dost deliver us from Evil. My youthful Pride and Folly now I see, That grudg'd for want of Titles and Degree. That blush'd with shame when this defect was known, And an inglorious Name could hardly own, Attempting to have hid it twice or thrice, With vile equivocations next to lies. And to thy Methods was unreconcil'd, Because I was not Rabbi, Doctor, styl'd. Forgive this Pride; and break the Serpent's brain; Pluck up the poisonous Root, till none remain. Give me the Wisdom; I'le not beg the Fame: Grant me the thing; let others take the name. Give me the Learning, and it is no harm, If thou shalt place me in the lowest Form. Honours are shadows, which from seekers fly; But follow after those who them deny.

I brought none with me to thy work; but there I found more than I easily could bear: Although thou wouldst not give me what I would,* 1.3 Thou gavest me the promis'd hun∣dred-fold.* 1.4 O my Dear God! how precious is thy Love? Thy wayes, not ours, lead to the Joyes above.

The Third Part.

THE wondrous Mercy of my bounteous Lord, W^ch sent me forth to Preach his sacred Word. Prepar'd my way, and call'd me to the place, Where I must first proclaim his Saving Grace: All things thou suitedst fitly to my need, Giving me freedom, season, ground and seed: Poor thirsty Souls, attend with greedy Ear, Crowding in multitudes thy Word to hear: Thy Mercy opening so wide a door, Gave some first-fruits betimes, and hopes of more.

The various places where my Lot did fall, Were all appointed to me by thy Call. I never was to any of them brought, By the Direction of my own forethought: Much less was ever any by me sought; And least of all, by price or bargain bought. I nere found cause of one place to repent; (Although my sins in all I must lament.) None were foreseen; yet after seen to reason, To be the fittest for the work and season.

But among all, none did so much abound, With fruitful mercies, as that barren ground, Where I did make my best and longest stay, And bore the heat and burden of the day; Mercies grew thicker there than Summer flowers: They over-numbered my daies and hours: There was my dearest Flock, and special Charge. Our hearts in mutual love thou didst enlarge: 'Twas there that mercy did my Labours bless; With the most great and wonderful success.

Yet there were Sons of Belial, whose rage Reason with Truth and Love could not asswage: Who Lov'd and Hated, just as Satan bid them; Rul'd by the Reins of Lust by him that rid them: In swinish drunkenness they drownd their wits: Most furious in their rude tumultuous fits. As Boars or Stags, at other times more tame; When lustful heats their blood and brains inflame; Fiercely assault such as stand in their way; None's safe before them till their heats decay: So doth the love of revellings and sport, Poor brutish fleshly sinners so transport, That ragingly they fly in that man's face, Who doth by sacred Truth their sin disgrace: And as in Armies Drums and Trumpets sound, The frightful cries of wounded men to drownd; And even the fearful in the furious crowd, Are carry'd on to death through streams of blood:

So those ensnared Youths, who formerly, Out of the Rout, retain'd some modesty, Conjoyned with the Rabble did as they; The common fury and their lusts obey: Run with the Herd: Mirth and the Rables noise, Drown Reasons Plea, and God's reclaiming voice: Death is forgot: Conscience cannot be heard: Hell and Damnation now are little fear'd: They have their curse, & their own sentence pass: Away with Jesus! give us Barr abas! Away with Preachers, who disturb our game! Talk not of Judgment: Let us bear the blame! Whilst grieved Preachers can but wish & groan, O that your day of mercy you had known! O my Dear God! how precious is they Love? Which looks on such with pity from above?

Now England's horrid Civil Wars began, When God a sinful Nation meant to fan. When sin grown high & bold, out-fac'd the Light; When Pride and Faction pleaded Divine Right. When most their Love, & some their Patience lost; When proud malicious men must not be crost: When wise men seemed fools, & fools seem'd wise; And when the worst were best in their own eyes? When Piety with Lazarus was loath'd; And Sin with Purple and fine Linnen cloath'd: And when the sacred Tribe, despising Souls, Through love of wealth & honor blow'd the coals!

When Demas for the World deserted Paul; And their own matters were first sought by all: When they that sought their good things in this life Had banisht Love, & fill'd the Church with strife Where striving factions Charity defy'd, And carnal Counsels did the Church divide! When swinish Gadarens did Christ refuse, And the prophane his servants did abuse. When Holiness the common Foe was deem'd, And nothing more intollerable seem'd. When holy Truth and Preachers were despis'd; And wicked means to cast them out devis'd! When sin presum'd to make a mock of grace, And folly spit reproaches in Christ's face! When vulgar rage had found this common vent; And impious scorn on Godliness was spent: When sin was not so much oppos'd as God, Then were we ready for the bloody Rod. When those sins reign'd that must not now be nam'd But by Heav'ns Justice shall at last be sham'd. When old condemned vanities and crimes, Became the Reverend Virtues of the Times, Then God in Judgment sate to plead his Cause, And judge the proud despisers of his Laws. Banish'd Love doth feaster'd hearts forsake: Blindness, suspicions, wrath possession take: Each man unto the fire his Fagot brought, And each against another quarrels sought. The whirlwind in the North did first arise, And raise the dust which troubled English Eyes.

And though Heav'ns mercy there prevented blood, The Irish fury shed a crimson flood. The French blood shew'd the temper of the Nation, Their Faith and Faithlesness keep Moderation, Their Bartholomews hot dog-daies thirst had cost, * 1.5 Thirty or forty thousand lives at most. But Ireland's Romish Zeal was hotter far, And in their preparation to a War, * 1.6 Two hundred thousand they sur∣priz'd and slew, Not that their Will so small a mea∣sure knew. But here God checkt their Power, & heard the cries Of dying Innocents, which pierc'd the Skies: England affrighted by her neighbours harm, Threatned to be the next, takes the Allarm, As Citizens that see a raging flame Threaten the Neighhours houses with the same, Do leave their Trades, and all together run, Trying to quench the Fire where it begun; And then pull down the houses which adjoyn; Some seek to save the goods, some to purloin; The well-built Piles, & curious Rooms must down, To buy the Safety of the fearful Town, A Neighbour's house is used like a Foe's, Because the Fire, the Hook, no diff'rence knows, Fear pulleth down the next, to save the most, And ruines more than needs, lest all be lost.

Smoak and confused crouds do blind men's eyes, All are amaz'd, with hideous flames and cryes; So England, too combustible before, Seeing so great a flame so near her door, Was frighted into such Convulsion Fits, As first did break her Peace, and next her Wits. Dangers breed fears, and fears more dangers bring: The Bees to save their Honey use their Sting; Rowz'd in an angry Swarm they seek their Foe, The next they meet must feel the smarting blow.

Caetera desunt, praesunt, adsunt.

I purposed to have recited the most notable mercies of my Life, in continuing this Hymn of Thanksgiving to my gracious God; but the quality of the Subject, and the Ages Impatience stopt me here, and I could go no further, and my painful and spiritless Age is now unfit for Poetry: And the matter is so large, as would have made the Volume big.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Mar. 3. 20. 21.
• * 1.2

  2. Cor. 5. 13.
• * 1.3

  Matth. 20. v. 21.
• * 1.4

  Matth. 19. v. 29.
• * 1.5

  Thuanus, Davila.
• * 1.6

  The Earl of Orery's Answer to a Petition.