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. XXXIII.

WHerefore I pray thee, Job, but hear me now,* 1.1 And to what I design to speak, allow But some attention, and I shall commend Thy Patience, if thou hear me to an end.
For now, dear friend, that I intend to speak* 1.2 Upon thy Case, I will indeed expect Attentive silence, whilst impartially I both demonstrate where thy Errors ly, And where thou hast spoke right, for now I see The whole weight of the Matter lyes on me.
I therefore plainly do intend to show* 1.3 What I by certain information know: Not what old Women feign, or old men dream, Or what is scattered by injurious Fame Through all the Neighbourhood, on this occasion, But openly, without dissimulation, I'le show thee, what my thoughts are of the thing, On which I have heard so much reasoning.
Now, though I am not far advanc'd in years,* 1.4 And neither Head, nor Face, as yet appears In the grave dye of a few withered Hairs. Yet I'me a Man, a Creature rational, And know as much, as any of you all, For that good Spirit, which did me create, Has taught me both to speak, and to debate, On such occasions; and I do not know Why that Almighty God, who first did blow On this poor lump of Clay, might not have then Inform'd me full as well, as other men, With that high Knowledge, and made me advance Beyond my years, in what, with Arrogance, Our aged Men would to themselves enhaunce.
Again, my friend, I'de have thee to give ear* 1.5 To what I speak, because I am not here To take advantage of thy misery, And tell thee in thy face, so bitterly, As these thy friends have done, that thou art lost, Undone, adjudg'd to Wrath, thy Doom engross't; And that bless'd Countenance, that Light divine,

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Which on all those, whom God esteems doth shine, Is as to thee eclips'd, and will no more Refresh thy Soul, as it has done before. No, in such terms I'le not my self express, Nor use such harsh reflections, as these Upon thy by-past life; which if, or no 'Twas such as they alledge, I do not know. Nor will I check thee, when I hear thee speak Of thy Integrity, or answer make To what I charge thee, with firm Protestation, Of thy unspotted Life, and Conversation. No, thou shalt have free libertie for me To answer for thy self, thou may'st be free, In what thou hast to say in thy defence, And openlie lay out thy Innocence, With all the art thou canst: take courage then, And be not overcome by what those men Have spoke against thee: for I lay no hold On their assertions; be thou therefore bold, And speak out freely what in thy defence Thou canst alledge, with all the eloquence, God has afforded thee; be not afraid Of mortal men, who usuallie upbraid Their friends with sin, though neer so innocent, When they perceive them in this exigent, As thou art now, for if thou trulie be Just, innocent, upright, from error free, As thou seem'st to pretend, by all that's past, Why shouldst thou not stand to it to the last.
Yes, why should'st not stand to it, for what thou* 1.6 Hast all this while desir'd is granted now: Thou didst desire that thou with God might'st plead, Why do it now, for I am in his stead: I have Commission from our Great Creator To hear thee speak at large upon the matter: Thou didst desire that he would hear thy case, Why then, imagine I am in his place, Appointed as his Auditor, say then, Speak out thy mind, be not afraid of men: For I, although I bear the character Of the Almighties High Commissioner, Yet I am but a man, as thou art, made Of dust, and clay, be not thou then afraid That I will crush thee, or increase thy woe, By screwing up thy doleful sorrows, no, I will not use such methods, but appear As soft, as if I whisper'd in thy ear.
I will not use thee, as thy friends ha'done,* 1.7 Nor shall my Language in their Channel run: Such picquant words, as they have spoke, shall be In my speech on the subject far from me.

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To tell thee freely then, I must complain* 1.8 Of what I've heard thee speak once, and again: I must reprove thee for some rash Expressions, Which thou hast often used in thy Passions; For, to my grief, my friend, I've heard thee speak, What from a wise man I did not expect.
O, saidst thou, I am clean, and innocent,* 1.9 Free of all sin, in Virtue eminent: I know not what belongs to vice, not I, Nor am acquainted with Iniquity.
Yet hath my great Creator punished* 1.10 Me no less, then if I had merited Such Judgments by my sins: his Wrath has seiz'd Upon my very soul; and he is pleas'd, 'Stead of rewarding my Integrity, To look upon me, as his Enemy: 'Has pick't a Quarrel with me, and of late 'Has sore oppress't me, for I know not what.
For, as a Malefactor I am us'd,* 1.11 Arrested, clap't i'th'Stocks, Arraign'd, Accus'd, Condemn'd, and Forfault, and yet all this time He'll not let me so much as know my Crime.
Why here, it is now, here, my friend, indeed* 1.12 Thou grossly err'st: and if thou dost proceed In such untain'd Expressions, as these, Allow me, friend, to tell thee in thy face, Wer't thou as upright, innocent, and just As he, whom God did out of pregnant Dust At first creat, before his foul Offence Did stain the beauty of his Innocence: Yet thus to talk, thus foolishly to prate, Thus with thy Maker to expostulate, As if he were thy Equal, is, my friend, Such an escape, as no man can defend. This is thy Crime, this is the Fault indeed, Thus guiltily thy Innocence to plead; Thus in asserting thy Integrity T'accuse Heavens Monarch of Iniquity, Who is all Justice: Pray what dost thou mean, Do'st think if thou be from all Error clean, But he is far more clean; if thou be pure, Upright, and just in all thy ways, why sure He, who inspir'd thee, he who made thee live, He, who to thee these Qualities did give Must be more just, and upright, he must be Far more then thou art, from all Error free.
And as he's just, so he is likewise great,* 1.13 For his Dominion is unlimitate: He rules this spacious Universe alone, And truely is accountable to none For his procedure: why then would'st contend With him, whose strength, and power doth far transcend Thy weak Capacity: why would'st dispute With him who is supream, and absolute

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I'th' government o'th' World: with him, who sends Blessings or Plagues on Enemies, or Friends, As he thinks fit, and is not ty'd to give To any curious Mortal that doth live, A reason for his actings; no, not he; And yet forsooth thou think'st he'll humour thee: Thou thinks't he will thy longing satisfy, And condescend t'assign a reason why He thus doth plague thee: O yes, and do that, In complaisance to thee, which he as yet Has never done to any: prethee then Forbear thy fretting, do no more complain; But rest assur'd as well as other men, That—— For any man, as thou dost to debate With this great God, who all things did create, Is such a piece of folly, as I may, In truth, assert most freely, to this day I have not heard the like: then once again, My friend, I tell thee, do no more complain As thou hast done, for if, with patience, Thou cans't endure what God doth now dispense, If thou canst suffer, what he doth ordain At this time for thy Sentence; and abstain From such Debatings, and Expostulations, As only sinful men at such occasions Do use, then by that single Argument Thou'l't prove that thou art just, and innocent More then by any I have heard, as yet Manag'd by thee in all thy long Debate.
But why all this complaining, why alace* 1.14 Dost thou so much debate upon the Case, As if God sent out Judgments here, and there, Without so much as once declaring War, But catching of his opportunities, Did ruine honest Mortals by surprize. Why here thou err'st too: here indeed, my friend, Thou dost with God most foolishly contend: For look you here now, why should we complain That he doth deal surprizingly with men? When every day he doth so openly By th'out-crys of his sweating Ministry, By Signs, Diseases, Visions, and even By all the dreadful Heraldry of Heaven Forwarn us of his Wrath to come, and yet We understand not, till it be too late This Universal Language, but complain When Judgments come, that we are overtane By meer surprize, and foolishly cry out We had no warning, whilst in truth I doubt We did not understand the Dialect, Of him, who doth so often to us speak. So that, my friend, thou should st not thus exclaim Against thy Maker, for thou art to blame,

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Who didst not understand such revelations, As usually preceed sad visitations. For certainly, if thou wilt call to mind Thy by past life, I doubt not but thou'lt find Th'hast had some warnings, were't but in a dream, Of thy afflictions long before they came.
Yes, in a dream, for often-times I know,* 1.15 God is accustom'd seriously to show To men (what often they conceal for shame) Their future state i'th' mirrour of a dream. For when the active soul outwearied, With toile o'th' day, at night is brought to bed Of a sound sleep; then it begins to fly, Then liberat from the bodies drudgery, It soares aloft, and in another sphere Begins to act: nay, then it doth appear, To be, what we cannot imagine here. For being then as fit for contemplation Almost, as 'twill be after separation, By vision intuitive it sees The state of things to come, and by degrees Becomes so subtile, and doth at that rate, In contemplation then expatiate. With such delight, as if it did not mean, By natural Organs e're to act again: But when some hours it has thus wandered, And in that time God has discovered, What for its profit he intends at large, Then he commands it to its former charge.
Have you not sometimes seen a General,* 1.16 His Officers to his Pavilion call, Whilst all the Army do securely sleep, Save a few Companies, who Guard do keep; And there inform them what he would ha' done, Give every one his Orders, and anon, Command each to his Post: so let's suppose, When in profoundest sleep, the eyes are close, The Body, one would think, o're-come by death, (Were't not that only it did softly breath.) Th'Almighty then is pleas'd, as 'twere, to call The soul unto him, and inform it all What he intends to do with it, and then Commands it to the sleeping Corps again: Whether▪ when come the sad Noctambulant, In a cold sweat, with fear, and rambling faint, Rouzes the Body from its sleep, and then Shows its instructions, and begins t'explain What it has seen, and heard, and plainly shows What Miseries, Calamities, and Woes, They may expect God will to them dispense, If not prevented by true penitence. Then, as if God himself to them did speak, When on these admonitions they reflect, With fear, and horrour they begin to quake.

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For they consider that his sole intent* 1.17 By these night-warnings, is but to prevent Their total fall, and by such signs, as these, Divert them from those foolish purposes, Which in their hearts they proudly do intend To prosecute, did he not kindly send Such seasonable messages to show What will be th' event, if they forward go, In such mad projects, and by consequence Make them to understand the difference 'Twixt humane power, and his Omnipotence.
By Dreams and Visions then he doth allarme* 1.18 Th' unwary race of man, and from all harm Preserve both soul and body; which alace Would fall into the dreadful ambushes Of th' enemy o' th' world, wer't not that he Who fram'd both soul and body, thus did free Them both from danger, and did constantly Mind their concerns, with a Paternal eye. For else the murdered body soon would drop Into the grave, the soul without all hope Of pardon, in that deep abyss would fall, Which God in justice has design'd for all Whom he doth hate, and dolefully, in Chains, Compare short pleasures, with eternal pains, Thus then we see how much we should esteem The ordinar Phaenomenon of a dream, And not contemn it, because usual, As if a common accident to all Occurring in their sleep, ane ary thing, Of which the wiser make no reckoning: For sure those dreams, and visions contain The mind of God, and are not shown in vain.
Next, as by dreams, so by diseases too* 1.19 The Spirit of God is pleased to allow Kind warnings to us: for, if understood, All sicknesses of body for our good, Are sent upon us; so that did we know What kindness by diseases God doth show To our poor souls, we never would complain, But think our selves most happy in our pain. For let's observe now, don't we daily see How man in health from all diseases free, Consumes his precious years so wantonly, As if he never did expect to die. He so imploys his time in sinful pleasure, As for devotion he can find no leasure: But when diseases on his body seize, And conquering death approaches by degrees: When th' lungs all overflow'n with constant rain Of Pituite, that falls down from the Brain, Afford scarce room for breathing, when the Blood Is in its Circulation withstood By stagnant humours, when the Bones do ake,

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And all the Pillars of the Body shake,
When for his food he has no appetite,* 1.20 And in his Table he takes no delite. But every dainty Dish doth nauseate, On which, with pleasure he did feed of late.
VVhen all his flesh, in health so plump and fair,* 1.21 Now rotten, and consum'd, doth not appear As formerly, but shrunk quite to the bone, The bones, which were not seen before, anon Stick out i'th'figure of a Skeleton.
When in this sad condition on his bed* 1.22 Helyes, and sees that all his hopes are fled, And he must die: when all he can perceive Is nothing but the avenue o'th'grave, And with himself he now considereth There's no avoiding of a certain death.
Then he begins with horrour to reflect* 1.23 Upon his by past actions, and take Account of all his wandrings: then he falls On thoughts of Heaven, and for Preachers calls: For pious men, who in this sad occasion, May by their words afford him consolation, And teach him how he may attain salvation. Then all his former wayes he doth abhorre, Complains on sin, and can endure no more To hear the voice of pleasure in his ears; But buried now in sorrows, pains, and fears, His only thought, his sole consideration Is what shall become, after separation Of his poor soul: how that in death shall fare, For which, in life, he took so little care. And if, perhaps (which is rare to be found) A man of God appear, who can expound The matter to him, and before his eyes Draw out the Map of his iniquities, Speak to his soul, and to his anxious heart. The gracious language of the Heavens impart.
Then will this good man to his God address,* 1.24 And say, have pity on this sinners case, Father of mercy, for I'me confident He of his sins doth seriously repent: Restore him to his health, and let him see How much, O Lord, he is oblig'd to thee; Who, when thou couldst have ruin'd him with ease, And made him perish in this sad disease, Art pleas'd to let him live, that he may yet Express thy glory in his mortal state. To this petition God shall lovingly Make answer well, this sinner sholl not dye: For I have found him in this exigent Vext at his sins, and truly penitent: Then let him live, for I his heart have try'd, And for his errors he hath satisfy'd; I'me reconcil'd, and freely to him give

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Full liberty yet for some years to live.
At this his sicknesse shall decrease apace,* 1.25 His spirits shall return, and in his face, The blossoms of new life shall then appear. As when the Spring doth usher in the year: His flesh shall be as soft, and delicate, As it appear'd once in his infant state.
But that's not all, for as to health restor'd,* 1.26 So God to him most kindly shall afford That sweet communion with himself, which all Esteem so much, who on his Name do call: And that bless'd comfort, which afflictions cloud, So long time from this poor mans soul did shrowd, Shall then more bright appear, and shine again, As when the Sun triumphant after rain, Unto the longing Earth himself displays, And chears her up with warm refreshing rays: Then he shall be above all calumny, And shall rejoice in his integrity: Shall pray to God, with successe, and no more Sadly suspect, as he had done before, That he, who dwells in Heaven did disdain So much as t' hear him, when he did complain, And all his tears, and prayers were in vain.
For our good God in mercy infinite,* 1.27 Be sure, my friend, doth take no small delite, To save a sinner that is penitent, When he perceives him heartily repent: For often upon men he casts his eye, Where if he in a corner doth espy Some poor heart-bursting sinner on his knees, Whose outrun eyes are now upon the lees, Whose voice with crying to that note is shrunk, As if he mutter'd through a hollow Trunk: Who after many a sad, and killing groan, Whose heat would almost melt a heart of stone, In a few words, can only stammer out, Lord, I have sinn'd,—and now what doth it boot? What doth it boot, good Lord, what after all My trade of sin, can I my profit call? Ay me, good God, to what, by just account? Doth th' provenue of all my sins amount? What have I gain'd, alace, what have I gain'd? To what have I by my dear sins attain'd? How foolishly, good Lord, as now appears, Have I consum'd my profitable years, And spent the cream of all my youth, and strength, In prosecution of what now at length, Affords no profit to my soul, but brings The thoughts of sad, and execrable things Into my mind; which though I do deplore, And, by thy grace, intend to act no more, Yet the remembrance of my wanton years,

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Present a prospect of perpetual fears Before my eyes; and I still apprehend That I shall justly suffer in the end For all my sins, unless that thou in Grace Wilt hear me, and have pity on my Case.
This poor convinced sinner God will hear,* 1.28 And to him soon most gracious appear; He will not let him perish, but will save His soul from Hell, his body from the Grave.
Thus then by Dreams, by Visions, and Diseases,* 1.29 And by his Preachers, whensoere he pleases, He warns us of our danger, and commands His killing Angels oft to hold their hands, For a few years at least, that he may see What the effects will of these Warnings be.
For in mens ruine he no pleasure takes,* 1.30 But even suspends his Justice for their sakes, That they may have some leasure to repent, And not be reeking in Offences sent Like Devils, t' endure eternal punishment. But of their foolish Errors undeceiv'd, Spite of themselves they may at length be sav'd.
Then pray; my friend, remark what I have said* 1.31 And to what I have yet to say take heed: Observe me, pray, and to my words give ear For it is fit thou with attention hear What God has by Commission ordered me To speak, dear friend, in reference to thee.
Yet if th' hast any thing to say, my friend,* 1.32 In thy defence, I'le not be so unkind, As to command thee silence, but allow Thee liberty to speak, and argue too Against what I have said, for my intent I'th' series of my present Argument, Is, (if I can) to prove thee Innocent.
If not, pray hold thy peace, be silent pray* 1.33 And with attentive mind mark what I say, Mark what I say, for by his Divine Grace, Who ordered me to speak upon this Case, I'le teach thee Wisdom, more then ever yet Thou understood'st, although thou wert of late Renown'd for Wit, and Literature, at least, In Reputation rank'd amongst the best, Of those sharp Wits, who live here in the East.

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