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The Poem.
When God doth make the1 1.1 heavens above us brass,
The earth's lke iron. Flowers, herbs and grass
Have lost their fragrant green; are turned2 1.2 yellow,
The brooks are dry, the pining cattel3 1.3 bellow.
The fat and flowry meadows scorcht and burn'd,
The Countreys mirth is into4 1.4 mourning turn'd.
The clefted earth, her thirsty mouth5 1.5 sets ope,
Unto the empty clouds; as 'twere in hope
Of some refreshing drops, that might allay
Her fiery thirst: but they soon pass away.
The pensive6 1.6 Husbandman with his own eyes,
Bedews his Land, because he sees the skies:
Refuse to do it,7 1.7 just so stands the case,
When God from souls, removes the means of grace.
God's Ministers are clouds, their doctrine8 1.8 rain;
Which when the Lord in judgment shall restrain:
The peoples souls in short time will be found
In such a case, as this dry parched ground.
When this9 1.9 sad judgment falls on any Nation,
Let Saints therein take up this lamentation.
O dreadful, dark, and dismal day!
How is our glory fled away.
Our Sun gone down, our stars o'recast;
God's heritage is now laid wast.
Our pining souls no bread can get,
With wantons God hath justly met,
When we are fed unto the full,
This man was tedious; that was dull.
But they are gone, and there remain
No such occasions to complain.
Stars are not now for lights, but signs;
God knows of what heart-breaking times.
Sure heaven intends not peace, but wars;
In calling home Ambassadors.