The grand tryal, or, Poetical exercitations upon the book of Job wherein suitable to each text of that sacred book, a modest explanation, and continuation of the several discourses contained in it, is attempted / by William Clark.

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Title
The grand tryal, or, Poetical exercitations upon the book of Job wherein suitable to each text of that sacred book, a modest explanation, and continuation of the several discourses contained in it, is attempted / by William Clark.
Author
Clark, William, advocate.
Publication
Edinburgh :: Printed by the heir of Andrew Anderson ...
1685.
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Subject terms
Bible. -- O.T. -- Job -- Criticism, interpretation, etc.
Link to this Item
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A33354.0001.001
Cite this Item
"The grand tryal, or, Poetical exercitations upon the book of Job wherein suitable to each text of that sacred book, a modest explanation, and continuation of the several discourses contained in it, is attempted / by William Clark." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A33354.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 14, 2024.

Pages

Cap. XII.

WIth pious silence Job had all this time* 1.1 Heard Zophar shreudly aggravat his crime: Made to his talk no interruption, As many, in his case, would sure ha' done, But, so soon as his friend an end had made, To his discourse he only answered.
Indeed, my friends, I see you are so wise* 1.2 'Tis to be fear'd, with you all Wisdom dies. You feel no pains, and torments, as I do, And therefore think all my Expressions now Are but like School-boyes whinings, when chastis'd For their own good: for such indeed you're pleas'd T'esteem my carriage. You who have never yet affliction known, On whose foft faces no rude wind has blown: Have ne'r known sorrow, or the use of tears, But smilingly enjoy'd your peaceful years; 'Tis easy for you, in such words as these T'accuse th'afflicted of what crimes you please.
Then after all this Torrent of Discourse,* 1.3 Sure you imagine that by very force Of reason, you've oblig'd me to confess That I'm now punish'd for my wickedness. You think you have my case so opened, In arguments not to be answered, And so ensnar'd me by your Art, and Skill, As I a Fool, a Mad-man, what you will, Must as a man found guilty hold my peace, And hear my Sentence read upon my knees. But seriously, my friends, I'd have you know You're much deceiv'd, if you imagine so: I know no difference betwixt you, and me In any thing, but what you all do see, My sad affliction. I'm scandalously poor, I must confess, But I was never tax'd with foolishness: For follow your discourse, and you shall find, Although I cannot so express my mind, As you do in your Flowres of Eloquence,

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Yet truly I lack neither Wit, nor Sense, Memory, Judgment, or what Parts you call, And understand as much, as you do all.
Whence this insulting then? pray to what end* 1.4 Do all your vain Expostulations tend? Whence all these Accusations? alace D'ye mean to mock me in my very face? Because God, in his mercy, grants you all, Your hearts desire, aud hears you, when you call, Therefore a man afflicted, and opprest Must be the subject of your unkind jest. You think perhaps that God doth favour none, Or has respect, but for your selves alone; Because you're rich, because you never yet Have known the pangs of a distress'd Estate. Hence, (though upright, and just) the poor with you Have no esteem; to such you don't allow The Character of simple Innocence, But laugh at all such, with great Insolence.
For O how meanly you Rich Men do prize* 1.5 The Poor, though Pious, Virteous, Learn'd, and Wi. Yes you on Riches only set your hearts, And weigh men by their Mony, not their Parts. Hence I've observ'd, my friends, that such as you Do undervalue. and (I know not how) As on a Lamp, or Link extinguished, On all, that are not rich, you proudly tread.
But what needs more:—tis so, and still will be,* 1.6 For wicked persons do encrease we see, And men of unjust Principles do rise In Wealth, and Power, erecting Families Upon the Ruines of the Just, and those Who understand no Piety (God knows) Do live in safety: with his bounteous hand, God doth enrich them, and they fill the land. Why this to me is no strange thing, I knew How God did rule the World as well as you.
Nay who's so stupid, who so void of sense* 1.7 As doth not understand how Providence Earths Governor, chief Minister of state To our Great God, doth all things regulate Below the Sun, allowing t' every Creature Its Shape, its Substance, Virtue, Food, and Nature. For ask the Beasts that toil for daily fare, On Earth, and those, who in the open Air Keep constant Commerce, and they 'll plainly tell What you have lately preach'd to me, as well As any of you all; they 'll fully show How much all Creatures to their Maker owe.
Or speak to th'Earth, and it will soon proclaim* 1.8 The Power of God, and his most Glorious Name, Nay very insects, things so despicable As some o'th'learned hold it questionable

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Whether they be of primitive Creation, Or meerly by equivocque Generation, Begot on putrid matter by the Sun, When through the hot Signs he his course doth run. Or speak to the Fishes, who do every day, Amidst the rude waves, unconcern'dly play, All these will clearly speak how deep a sense, They have o'th'gracious power of Providence.
Then to what purpose all your talk? pray why* 1.9 Should you obtrude your mean Philosophy Upon your friend? alace I'd have you know Your wisdom's common to all here below. Why so dogmatick, when you only preach, What the Creation every hour doth teach? Must we esteem you wise, because that you Know as much as the Brutal Creatures do? Or shall we think that you deserve esteem, Because you can descantupon a Theme, Well known to all men? for who's ignorant Of what you speak? though you do proudly vaunt, You are the only knowing men, alace, How much do I commiserate your case. For ah, who knows not how Gods mighty hand Hath all things fram'd in Heavens, Air, Sea, and Land.
That mighty hand, that hand, which doth contain* 1.10 The precious Soul of every living man: That hand, which grasps at once both Life, and Death, That hand, which stops, and lets out every Breath: That mighty hand we know hath formed all, Without the help of what you wisdom call. That powerful hand, that right hand, which alone Acts by true wisdom, is most surely known, Beyond what all your wisdom can rehearse, To be the Author of the Universe.
For lets observe but, who did frame the Ear,* 1.11 And for what use: why it will soon appear, If once we speak: for then articulate, And distinct words entring that narrow Gate; Through the Ears winding Turnpikes progress make, And are conducted to the Intellect, In decent order, have quick audience, And from the council of the common Sense, As quick returns: for words are instantly Dispatch'd in answer: twinkling of an eye, Th' earsof both speakers do these words convey, T' each others judgements i'th'same form, and way. Let us observe then, how this useful sense, By special licence from high providence, Enjoys its place, and faculty, nor are Those many towrs, and windings in the ear, There to no purpose, since experience Demonstrats every day their excellence. For, as we see in Princes Pallaces, How all the avenues, and passages

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Are strictly guarded, to oppose the rude Tumultuous entries of the Multitude: Whilst civil persons, who have business, Pass through the Guards, and dayly make address To th' Princes ear: so all the Guarde o'th' brain To civil courteous words do make a Lane, Which passing forward to the Intellect, Are there receiv'd with kindness, and respect. But, if in throngs, and with a hideous shout, They chance to make approach, to keep such out, The Drum o'th' Ear doth quickly beat to Arms, Yet by the frequent use of such allarms, Those Guards are oft-times overcome, and thence Men lose the use of that most useful sense. That useful sense, to which indeed we owe, The greatest part of what we learn, or know, So that were't even but in that curious sense, We may admire the work of Providence. Observe the Mouth too, how it tastes the Meat, To try if it be wholesome, sowr, or sweet, Ere to the Stomach, whether it doth tend, It can have access, that it may defend, The Body from all Food, that's destructive, To health, and make its charge securely live. Now from such topicks, though there were no moe, Who may not soon, th' Almighties Glory know? Forbear then all your arguing, pray forbear And let's no more of your vain Lectures hear Upon this subject, since no art can show The full extent of what we only know, From such external signs, for what indeed The Power of God is, whence all things proceed, Which here we see: how things are regulate In Heavens, and Earth: how he did Fabricate This vast stupendious Globe, which still the more We view, the more the Framer we adore Is what exceeds our reach.
'Tis true indeed, (and I do not deny)* 1.12 But even on this side of Mortality, There is a wisdom, which one may attain By serious thoughts, and labour of the Brain, There is a thing I know, which in some sense May be thought wisdom, call'd experience, Which mongst ag'd persons keeps its Residence. Seldom in other company we see This grave Instructer, whom I take to be A thing made up of many passages Of foolish Life, by which it seems to guess At future Events, and would wisely cast By th'vanity of things already past, The issues of new Counsels, but alace, When we perceive how still new passages Occur, which we have never known before, Then we admire, and can presage no more.

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And then, when we reflect what vast Expence Acquaintance with this same Experience Doth cost' us daily, and how, ere we can Improve to its full height the wit of man, The life of man runs out: who'd not assert That all the knowledge, all the wit, the art, And all the cunning, which we can attain Below the Heavens is absolutely vain. Vain, and inconstant, frail, and perishing A very inconsiderable thing, Not worth our pains to know: for don't we see Mongst all alive on earth how few there be Can teach us, which obliges us to crave Instructions from the Records of the Grave, Their sayings we esteem, their Works we read, And borrow all our Knowledge from the Dead.
But O how mean, how poor, and despicable* 1.13 This Wisdom looks! how like a very bable! A thing of no esteem, compar'd with that, Which did this Glorious Universe creat! That,—that's true Wisdom! that—O that indeed Doth all your Human Wisdom far exceed. For with our God, Wisdom, and Strength doth dwell, In understanding he doth ail excel. No more than of that thing you Wisdom call, Here's Wisdom that gives silence to you all. A Divine Wisdom, which no art can teach! A perfect Wisdom, far above our reach! A Wisdom infinit! incomparable! Vastly profound! simply inimitable, By us poor Mortals! O the Excellence Of this eternal pure intelligence! This uncreated Wisdom! this so fair, Unspotted Knowledge! this so singular And precious Wisdom! this so eminent And glorious Prescience, which did all invent This solid Understanding! this so clear, And pointed Wisdom, which should only bear The name of Wisdom! this doth plainly show We have no Wisdom, we do nothing know: But all the Wisdom we can here attain, Is (without question) evident, and plain (Though on it we bestow a goodly name) But like the sparks, that issue from the flame. Or as we see in a contracted Ray O'th'Sun how Atoms wantonly do play, Which were but ust, while by that glorious Beam Rais'd from the Dung-hill: then to men they seem To be some things of moment, and become The subject of grave arguing to some More curious Brains; as they're of admiration To duller judgments; and of meditation To pious Breasts: yet let the Sun recall His Animating Ray, and after all

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Those things appear but transient, and vain, And soon incorporat with the dust again. Just so all Humane Knowledge animat By wisdom from above we estimat For some small time, so long as so inspir'd, But when the Divine Rayes are once retir'd, Then we perceive what we did late esteem Was but a Shadow, or an empty Dream.
O the great Power of God! who can express* 1.14 His admirable Strength! we must confess 'Tis he alone that rules, 'tis he alone That orders all, accountable to none. 'Tis he that builds, 'tis only he erects Kingdoms and States; 'tis he alone protects These in their beeing; he alone beats down Those powerful Corporations, assoon As he thinks fit: he overturns them all; At his command to Anarchy they fall. Those glistering things, which we adore by names Of Scepters, Robes, Swords, Balls, and Diadems, He breaks to pieces with his mighty hand, To let the' admiring world understand 'Tis he alone, by whom all Princes reign; And fall; and whom he once beats down, in vain Mortals endeavour to restore again. Or if they do, he renders their designs Unsuccessful, and quickly countermines Their secret Plts: but when they have done all That men can do, if on his Name they call, Then he will hear, and by his Power alone Restore Exiled Princes to the Throne. When he imprisons men, (who e're they be) No Friendship, Force, or Law can set them free.
When he seals up the Clouds, then by, and by* 1.15 The Floods and Rivers of the Earth run dry. The parched Ground no moisture doth retain, But every thirsty Clod doth gape for Rain. And all the beasts o'th'field with drowth opprest, Hang out their tongues, and can enjoy no rest. But when he sends them out, they furnish all Men, Beasts, Birds, Insects, Creatures great and small With Liquor in abundance: and o'rflow Earths surface quite if he will have it so.
With him is Strength, and Wisdom, no thing can,* 1.16 Without his licence, be perform'd by man. Nay Sin it self, tho man to it make sute, Without permission, dares not contribute To its own beeing: he who means to make Unlawful gain, dares not yet undertake Without Gods special tolerance to do it, Who will permit it, though he don't allow it.
'Tis he, who turns the Counsels of the Wise* 1.17 To down right folly: he who vilifies Their closs Projectings, and doth laugh at all

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What these Intrigues, and Cabin councils call. 'Tis ne makes Dotards on the Benches sit, And Beardless fools, when ever he thinks fit, To plague a sinful Nation: 'tis he That raises men of base, and low degree To be our Rulers: he takes Princes down, And brings th'unweildie Distaff to the Crown: That he a sinning Nation may vex, With all the passions of that humorous Sex. He cuts of aged Princes; he alone Sets Fools, and sucking Infants on the Throne: And for the faults of an nrulie Land, Makes many Princes stead of one, command.
He snatches Scepters from the greatest Kings,* 1.18 Pulls off their Robes, and makes those crowned things Fetter'd, and pinion'd, beg their dayly Meat, With fear, and trembling at the Conquerours feet.
Whole Nations in a berd he drives away,* 1.19 And of their Princes makes a lawful Prey. The high and mighty he doth overthrow Annuls their Powers, and makes the proudest low.
He makes the faithful Counsellours speech to fail,* 1.20 And what they talk, sound, like an idle tale. He makes their mouths to furnish Evidence, Sufficient to condemn their Eloquence. He makes the ag'd, and prudent stammer out Their minds like fools; and make the audience doubt; Although they see their Senators i'th' face, If these be they, or mad men in their place.
Your Soveraign Princes, who to day appear* 1.21 In wealth and honour, void of any fear Of being overturn'd, and dayly fleece Their poor o're toiling Subjects as they please, To morrow he contemptible doth make'em, And makes all these they thought their friends, forsake 'em.
Deep subterraneous Caverns, where the Beams* 1.22 O▪th'Sun ne're pierc'd; dark places, void of names; Unseen, unheard of, never known before, Replete with noisome vapours to that hour, And killing Damps, foul Kennels, black as Hell; He clears, their darkness he doth soon dispel. At his command those Fogs do flye away, And these dark holes, like Noon-tide of the day Appears, so clear, and so transparent bright▪ As if they always had been full of Light.
That Nation which our God intends to bless,* 1.23 He makes to flourish in all happiness. He makes the people in prosperity And wealth to live, and daily multiply. Under his own vine, ignorant of fear, Makes each man with his Neighbour keep good chear, Furnishes to 'em all the best of Meat, Which under their own Fig-tree they do Eat. Proof of all Writs, these people do not care

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For th'heavy clutch o'th' pinching Usurer. The dismal News of an approaching term, Which frights the most of men does not allarm That happy Nation, who in plenty live, And spend as freely, as their God doth give- They know no Contributions, Raps, or Force, Quart'rings, or transient March of Foot, and Horse, No they are free of all these Curses, far From all the sad calamities of War. Whilst other Nations howl, they live at ease, Enjoying all the Benefits of Peace. But when a long continued peace has bred Foul luxury; and all the Land's o'respread With unclean Acts, and scenick wantonness, Then farewell all their former joys, and peace. Their loud-tongu'd sins no sooner make a noise In Gods Ears, but he instantly destroys That foolish people, whom he so much bless't▪ And throws them out, like Chaff, he doth detest Their very memory; makes them soon a prey To Barbarous Nations, who drive all away They find within that peoples Land, before'em; Nor will afford them food, though they implore'em, With cryes, and tears, would burst the very stones, Yet these unmov'd with all their sighs, and groans, 'Stead of all answer to these sad demands, Shall poinard those poor wretches, wash their hands In their hearts-blood; cut off their heads, and show Them on their spear points, not consented so Ravish their Virgins, and unrip their Wives, Brain all their Children, and with bloody Knives, On their dead Corps their cruelty repeat, And throw large Collops to their Dogs to eat. Without regard to either sex, or age, These men shall glut their Military rage- Burn all their Houses, Towns, and Villages, Waste all, and leave no memory of peace. But after all, he will his ear afford To some small remnant, who have scapt the Sword: When in their Chains, and fetters they do cry To Heavens for mercy, then he instantly Will hear their pray'rs, release them from their pain, And soon restore them to their own again-
When he intends a final desolation,* 1.24 And means, in anger, to destroy a Nation; Let them give out Commissions of array, And raise well modell'd Armies under Pay: With great allowance, and large hire engage The most accomplish'd Captains of their age To be their Generals: give them full Command, Put all their Force, and Treasure In their hand. Who may Encamp these Troops in every part, By all the Rules of Military Art: Decamp, March, Counter-march, and make a halt,

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Lay ambushes, besiege, and make assault; Do all that brave, and skilful Chistans dare, By the exactest Discipline of War. Assur'd of Victory, yet after all, A Pannick Fear shall on these Captains fall: Their Blood shall cool, their Courage shall decay, And they shall be the first shall run away, When action comes: their Troops shall be defeat, And stand in fear of every one they meet. Their broken Squadrons squandring in their way, Through all the Countrey shall become a prey To Boyes and Peasants: Hills, and Dales to boot Shall not secure them from the hot pursuit. Three of'm in a body shan't remain Most of'm being captivat, or slain Without all hopes of Rallying again.
But as men in the dark do feel, and grope,* 1.25 So shall those scattered Forces without hope, Benumm'd with fear, in lamentable case, Whilst the feirce Conquerors closs pursue the Chase, Through Ditches, Pools, and Quag-mires, here and there Woods, Mountains, Corn-fields, Pastures, every where, Run to preserve their Lifes, but all in vain, Staggering, like so many Drunken Men.

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