Fons lachrymarum, or, A fountain of tears from whence doth flow Englands complaint, Jeremiah's lamentations paraphras'd, with divine meditations, and an elegy upon that son of valor Sir Charles Lucas / written by John Quarles.

THE LAMENTATIONS OF JEREMIAH.

CHAP. I.

Contents.

1 The miserable estate of Jerusalem by reason of her sins, 12 She complaineth of her grief, 18 and confesseth Gods judgments to be righ∣teous.

HOw doth the City, that was blest of late [ 1] With store of people, now lament her state? How like a poor distressed widow she Deplores her sorrows, that was wont to be Great among Nations? greater far then any; How tributary is she now to many?

[ 2] She drowns her blushing cheeks with midnight tears, And from her lovers can obtain no pray'rs: Her friends, arm'd all with treachery, arise And shew themselves her publique enemies: [ 3] Spu••••'d with affliction, Judah's forc'd to fly, And throw her self into Captivity; B••cause of sense consuming servitude She dwells amongst the Heathen multitude: Her Foes o're-took her when she was distrest; Well might she wish for, but could take no rest. [ 4] Sion is with redoubled grief surpriz'd, Because her feasts by none are solemniz'd: Her Gates are fill'd with desolation, and Her Virgins tortur'd with afflictions hand: Her Priests with sighs, heart-breaking sighs, express Their grief: Ah Sion's fill'd with bitterness! [ 5] Her chiefest people are her chiefest foes; Just Heav'n with these innumerable woes Plagues her transgressions; and the enemy Drives her dear Children to Captivity. [ 6] And that rare beauty, which adorn'd and grac'd Sions dear daughter, is of late defac'd: Her Princes fly, and ransack all about, Like hungry Harts, to finde a pasture out: They all are fled, and flying, can procure No strength t'oppose the merciless pursuer. [ 7] But when Jerusalem was thus confin'd T'afflictions lawless bounds, she call'd to minde Her by past pleasures, and those days which she

For now her crying sins are grown so great, [ 8] That Heav'n hath thrown her from his mercies seat: All those that lov'd her, yea and highly priz'd her, Seeing her shameful nakedness, despis'd her: She sighs & turns her back, as though she'd borrow A private breath t'express a publique sorrow: For being fill'd with wickedness, Her end [ 9] She never thought of, neither had she friend To comfort her: O Lord my God, behold My great afflictions: Ah my foe grows bold, And magnifies himself: His stretch'd-out hand [ 10] Hath spoyld the pleasures of my fruitful Land: The very Heathen, whom thou didst deny Thy Congregation, do contemn, defie Thy just commands; and with unseemly paces Inforce an entrance to thy holy places. Her bread-desiring people, fill'd with grief, [ 11] Give their chief treasures for a small relief: Behold, O Lord, consider my distress, For I am vile, and fill'd with wickedness. Oh stop your hasty feet, ye that pass by, [ 12] And look upon my new-bred misery; Sum up the totals of all grief, then borrow A million more; 'Tis nothing to that sorrow Which I support, wherewith the angry power Hath pleas'd t'afflict me in His wrathful hour: For he from his all-ruling throne hath sent [ 13] Into my bones a fiery Government: Yea, and his ever-active hand hath set,

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And I am desolate, and fainting lie; Being turn'd from him, am turn'd to misery. [ 14] Fast to my servile neck He hath bound on The wreathed yoke of my transgression; Impair'd my strength, and by His just commands I'm thrown into my persecutors hands, Where I, remorsless I, must still remain, Voyd of all hope to be enlarg'd again. [ 15] His unresisted strength hath broke the bones, And made a footstool of my Mighty Ones: A great Assembly He hath call'd that may Punish my youngmen that will not obey; And Judahs fairest Virgin Daughter's trod As in a winepress by th' Almighty God. [ 16] And O these sorrows, O these miseries Stir up a tempest in my clouded eyes! Mine eyes, mine eyes, run o're, I dayly spend More tears then any brain can apprehend: My foes prevail, my children all are led Into Captivity, my hopes are fled. [ 17] Sion spreads forth her feeble arms t'express She seeks for comfort, but is comfortless. The Lord of hoasts commands that Jacobs eyes Shall round about him see his enemies; And poor despis'd, distrest Jerusalem Is as a menstruous woman amongst them. [ 18] My God is just, yet I, rebellious I, Transgrest against his glorious Majesty: O hear my people, let your ears but borrow A minutes time, from Time, to hear my sorrow!

My Virgins and my young men all are fled Into Captivity; my Priests are dead: [ 19] My Friends refuse to hear me when I call; For want of food my hungry Elders fall. O Lord, behold, see how I am opprest, [ 20] My heart thumps at the portals of my brest: Oh I have sinned, and my sins indite me; Abroad the Sword, at home grim Death affrights me. My friends have heard my groaning, and my grief [ 21] Is known to them; But I know no relief: My foes with clamorous voyces fill the Earth, And make my grief the subject of their mirth: But Heav'n hath nam'd a day when these my foes Shall be Co-partners in my mock'd at woes. O God, let not their faults be hid from thee, [ 22] But deal with them as thou hast dealt with me:

My heart is faint, my struggling sighs are many, My griefs too great to be exprest by any.

Meditatio in Capitulum.

IF thou wouldst know, my Soul, what har••s at∣tend A sinners progress to his journeys end; Here, here thou mayst, if with impartial eyes Thou wilt observe the unsatiate miseries Of poor Jerusalem, whose tedious groans, Whose sighs, and sobs, and tears, the world bemoans.

Observe her heedless steps, and thou shalt know Sin was the Author of her self-will'd Wo. 'Twas sweet at first, but sowre in th' event, That little word assumes a large extent: Where Sin predominates, there we may find The inconvenience of a troubl'd mind: For when the mind's perplex'd, then we begin Either to fall to, or to fall from Sin: For like the restless Sea she's active still, And always agitating good or ill; If well imploy'd, she builds a wall about The Soul, to keep approaching dangers out: But if she spends her thriftless hours in Evil, She makes a banquet to invite the Devil, Who with his subtle and misguiding force Will re-invite her to a second course: And then let Christians judg how much disquiet That Soul sustains that loves the Devils dyet. Ah then my Soul, if thou desir'st to be Exempted from the lot of miserie, Make Heav'n thy refuge; there thou mayst be sure To find contentment, and repose secure: Thou needst not fear, there is no poys'nous thing Can wound that Soul that truly loves his King: Nor all the malice mortals can invent, Shall add to thee one mite of discontent: There is no sorrow, no calamity T'oppress thy thoughts; No wry-look'd enemy T'upbraid thy actions: then my Soul advise How much it profits to be heav'nly wise.

Ah had Jerusalem (whose grief no pen Can e're engrave into the hearts of men) Been wisely wary, she had never known Those late reap'd sorrows, which her sins had sown: Had she but search'd her bosom, and contriv'd Her actions well, her glory had surviv'd: Had she with Davids tears in time repented, Those uncorrected sins her heart lamented, She had not felt those judgments which did wait Ʋpon the ruines of her falling State: But whilst her eyes were muffl'd and deluded, Folly came in, where Reason was excluded.

Needs must that Kingdom unto ruine run, Where Folly sets and rises with the Sun.

Like as the body that's oppress'd with grief. Can neither hope for, nor obtain relief, Till the disease be known; there's none can tell The rage of sickness that was always well. Even so Jerusalem, because that she Judg'd not the Reason of her Miserie Till she was past recovery, could never Have health restor'd her, but was sick for ever▪

Alas! alas! that Kingdom needs must fall, That has a grief so Epidemical.

Had she but like the Ninevites in time Stop'd those distemp'ring humors which did climb Above her strength, her grief had quickly ended, And Heav'n revok'd those judgments he intended. Med'cines are vain things when apply'd too late, And through delay a grief grows desperate.

He that is Sin-sick is in bad condition, Except Heav'n please to be his Souls Physician: And if God once deny his Patient bliss, Whose must the fault be, when the fault's not his? Alas! alas! 'tis but in vain for any To strive to cure one grief, that had so many As sad Jerusalem had; her plagues were more Then all the world could reckon up before: She had a Monop'ly, she need not borrow, She was the Hierogliphick of all sorrow. Yet if in time she'd made repentant moan, Heav'n could have cur'd them all as well as one. There is no Sin, let it be great or small, But Heav'n can find a balsam for them all. My Soul, thou art my Monarch, therefore I May boldly look into thy Monarchy. First praise thou Heav'n, then learn to be content With what he sends thee; let thy government Be still Monarchical, and fenc'd about With fervent prayers, to keep Sedition out. Let watch and ward be kept, lest Traytor Sin Betray thee; Let not Faction come within Thy lists: And still be careful to surprize Rebellious thoughts, as soon as they arise: For if they once appear within thy borders, They'l breed confusion, and confus'd disorders. Learn to be wisely politick, and be Ready to let Religion counsel thee. Let Reason be thy guide, and let thy Laws Be truly executed; Let thy Cause

Be just and real: then my Soul, be sure To let thy fundamental Laws endure,

Till he that sits on the refulgent Throne Shall take thee hence, and keep thee for his own.

CHAP. II.

Contents.

1 Jeremiah lamenteth the misery of Jerusalem. 20 He complaineth thereof to God.

BEhold! Heav'ns Metropolitan hath spread [ 1] His gloomy clouds of anger on the head Of sad Jerusalem: He hath destroy'd Those bounteous treasures Israel enjoy'd; And from his mem'ry hath his footstool thrown, When he with floods of anger was o'reflown. And Jacobs habitations he unfram'd, [ 2] And wrathfully consum'd them: Thus inflam'd The strongest Castles Judahs Daughter had, He tumbled down, and made her people sad: And he, to shew what his grand power could do, Defil'd the Kingdom and the Princes too. His two-edg'd passion hath cut off the horn And Chief of Israel, made him a scorn

To his deriding Foes, and also stayd, Yea and withdrawn his right hand from his ayd: His fury like an all consuming flame Burn'd against Jacob, and devour'd his name. [ 4] His wrestless arm hath bent his yeelding bow; He stood resolved like a dauntless foe: And in the Tabernacle he hath flew The eyes delight, like fire his anger flew. [ 5] He threw down Israels strongest scituations, And fill'd Jerusalem with lamentations. [ 6] And like a fruitless garden hath layd voyd Th' infected Tabernacle▪ and destroy'd Th' Assemblies structures; and an angry wind Hath blown their Feasts and Sabbaths from his mind; Both Kings & Priests in anger he forgot, And look'd on them as if he saw them not. [ 7] His holy places, and his Altar he Abhor'd; and gave unto the Enemie Her fairest Palaces: their ill-tun'd voyces, As on a feast-day, fill'd the Church with noises. [ 8] His hand stretch'd forth a line, when he intended To ruine Sion that so much offended: He hath resolv'd destruction; therefore all The rampart languish'd with the gliding wall. [ 9] He hath destroy'd, and batter'd down her grates, The gaping Earth imbowel'd all her Gates Her King and Princes dwell with Gentiles; and Her Laws are banish'd from her lawless Land Her Prophets gaze about; the frowning skies▪ Do represent no vision to their eyes.

Her mournful Elders on the ground repose, [ 10] And silently consent unto their woes: They cloth'd themselves with sackcloth, and they crown'd Their heads with dust they borrowed from the ground: No joys were pleasing to the eys of them That were the Virgins of Jerusalem. My bowels yern, my tear-distilling eyes [ 11] Are sore with gazing on the miseries Of frail Jerusalem: Alas, the feet Of her dear sucklings stagger in the street! And like the wounded in the City, send [ 12] Their sighs for food unto their dearest friend: And whilst they slumbred on their mothers brest, They pour'd their Souls into eternal rest. What shall I witness for thee, O thou Gem, [ 13] Thou pining Daughter of Jerusalem? To what shall I compare thee? What can be, O Sions Daughter, equal unto thee? Let all the world recure thee, if they can; For Ah, thy breach is like the Ocean! Alas, thy purblind Prophets all have been [ 14] Hoodwink'd with folly, & vain things have seen: But ne'er discover'd thine iniquity, Which was the cause of thy captivity. Their mis-informed senses were content To see false Reasons for thy Banishment. All that past by, and saw thee thus decaying, [ 15] Clapt their rude hands, yea hist at thee, thus saying; Is this the City that the wordlings call [ 16] Beauties perfection? This the joy of all?

Thy foes revile thee, and as they pass by They gnash their teeth against thee; thus they cry, This is the day we look'd for, now we know She is destroy'd, we see her overthrow. [ 17] That which the King of Heav'n devised, now He hath enacted and fulfil'd his vow: He hath thrown down without remorse, O see, Thy adversaries triumph over thee. This hath th' Almighty done for them, at length He made thē strong, yea & advanc'd their strength. [ 18] They mov'd the Lord with their uncessant cries; O wall of Sions daughter, let thine eyes Run down like rivers, give thy self no sleep; Forget to smile, and practise how to weep. [ 19] Arise, and in the silent night bemoan Thy grief; O cry unto th' Almighty One: In the beginning of the watch implore Thy growing sorrows; make a flood before Th' Eternals face: O crave that he would please To sent thy young, faint, hungry children ease. [ 20] Consider Lord, to whom thou'st done this great, lie This unrepented ill: Shall women eat Their span-long children? Shall thy slain Priests Tomb'd with thy Prophet in thy Sanct'ary? [ 21] The young and old have shar'd in equal harms, They lie and tumble in each others arms: Upon the flinty streets my Virgins fall, With my young men; the sword disliv'd them all: Thus in thine anger hast thou struck them dead, Thus hast thou kill'd, and never pitied.

As in a solemn day, my terrors round [ 22] About thou'st called, so that none was found In the Lords day of anger to remain: Those that I swadled and brought up, in vain I brought them up; the enemy infum'd Envy'd this off-spring, and their days consum'd.

Meditatio in Capitulum.

SEe, see, my Soul, what Heav'n hath done! O see What 'tis t'offend a pow'rful Majestie! Go, go, and quickly tell the sons of men What 'tis to rouze a Lion from his Den: Bid them keep peace and quietness in Sion; Bid them turn Lambs, or Heav'n will turn a Lion. Bid them take notice, she that was the stem Of honour, now is poor Jerusalem. Alas! alas! experience made her know Griefs abstract, and the quintescence of wo. And ah my Soul! who knows the course of sorrow? There 'tis to day, it may be here to morrow. Then have a care, let thy well tutor'd grief Know rather how to purchase a relief, Then plagues and torments; Let thy sober will Be sway'd by reason; let thy reason still Lead thee to meditation: then begin To search thy self, and cypher up thy sin.

Having thus done, thou quickly wilt discry Thy grief, and where th' imperious humors lie; And having found them out, let no delay Damage thy Soul, but quickly haste away; And from the bottom of thy heart confess Thy greatest sins; so Heav'n may make them less. O kiss the Son; for if his anger be, Yea but a little kindled, blest is he Whose groping Soul his seal'd up mercies found, And cast his anchor in so firm a ground. Heav'n smiles on them whose oft-repeated pray'r Expands their sins, & makes their God their care. But when revolting negligence shall call Confounding ruine from th' imperial hall Of Heav'ns high-seated Palace, and invite A dreadful vengeance, to eclipse the light Of a resplendent happiness; and double The lab'ring Soul with interposing trouble: Ah, then our pleasures shall be turn'd to toys, And sudden grief shall expiate our joys! And like Jerusalem, confus'd shall we Wander and languish in obscuritie: Then, then our down-cast spirits shall lament, And moan their just deserved punishment: Then shall our Peace be drawn unto an end, Then shall we look for, but shall find no friend: Then shall our sad Embassadors prepare, And mount to Heav'n, but find no audience there: Then shall our blubber'd eyes in vain let slide Innumerable tears: then shall the Tyde

Of Heav'ns high-flowing anger rage and roar, And dash against our sin-polluted shore: Then shall we run, and in our running, meet Th' obvious sword in the blood-streaming street: Then shall our hasty trembling feet retire To our sad houses; there shall Death require Th' arrears of sorrow▪ Lingring Famine shall Like to a lean-cheek'd Fury grasp us all: And from our strouting veins shall squeez a flood, A luke-warm deluge of diffused blood. Then shall our children with their midnight cries Lament for food; Then shall their mothers eyes Bedew their bosoms with the falling showres Of dribling tears: Then shall their lothed hours Haste to an end; And having thus exprest Their woes, shall creep into Eternal rest. Then shall the early melancholly Bells Sound mournful peals for their sad last farewels. Ah now my Soul! Can any griefs out-vy. Such griefs as these? Can any heart deny The justness of these Judgments? If they do, May they feel Sodoms and Gomorrahs too. Heav'n cannot be unjust; No, no, 'tis we Provoking sinners are unjust, not he. Shall we offend, and shall we every day Hale down his Judgments on our backs, then lay The burthen of our faults on him, and cry, Like Traytor Judas, Master is it I? No, no, we must not; but let every one Ʋnbosom all his actions, and make known

His misdemeanors; then if any can Plead himself guiltless, he's a happy man. Find out but ten good men, and for their sake Heav'n will deduct a thousand plagues, and sha•••• Ten thousand more from his incensed brest, And for their sakes will give ten thousand rest. Sodom can witness Heav'n brooks no denyal, He had sav'd all, had ten been found but loyal.

Oh blind and foolish is that City, when Ten thousand doubled cannot number ten.

CHAP. III.

Contents.

1 The faithful bewail their calamities. 22 By the mercies of God they nourish their hopes▪ 37 They acknowledg Gods Justice. 55 They pray for deliverance, 64 and vengeance on their enemies.

[ 1] 'TIs I have seen affliction by the rod, Th' impetuous anger of the wrathful God. [ 2] He with a pitchy darkness mask'd my sight, And hath not cloth'd me with the robes of light. [ 3] He turn'd his hand against me all the day; [ 4] He broke my bones, and made my flesh decay.

His lab'ring fury hath built up a wall [ 5] Against me, and surrounded me with gall. In dungeon places he me set, like those [ 6] Which in their graves have had a long repose. And he hath made my toilsom chains to be [ 7] Heavy; He hedg'd me from my libertie. And when I shout and cry he will not hear, [ 8] But makes my pray'r a stranger to his ear. He hath inclosed me with stones that stay [ 9] My hasty steps, he hath incurv'd my way. And as a lurking Bear observes my paces, [ 10] Or as a Lion in the secret places. He turn'd me from my ways, disturb'd my state, [ 11] Pull'd me in pieces, made me desolate. He bent his Bow, and made my trembling heart [ 12] The aym'd-at object of his fatal dart. He caus'd his quivered guests t'inforce my veins, [ 13] And take a large possession in my reins. I was my peoples laughing stock, their song [ 14] Was tuned to my mischief all day long. He fill'd me full of bitterness and wo, [ 15] And made me drunk with nauseous wormwood too. He brake my teeth with gravel stones, and he [ 16] With heaps of ashes hath involved me. Banish'd my Soul from Peace, Prosperity [ 17] Is quite relapsed from my memory. I said, my strength, my very hope is even [ 18] Wasted and perish'd from the Lord of Heav'n. Ponder my woes, and my afflictions all, [ 19] Remember both the honey and the gall.

[ 20] These things do still in my remembrance rest, And ah, my Soul is humbled in my brest! [ 21] This I recall to my swift-roving mind, Therefore I hope, and hoping, hope to find. [ 22] It is the mercy of the Lord we sail So safe; for his compassions never fail. [ 23] They're every morning new; thy faithfulness Is great, and greater then I can express. [ 24] The Lord's my portion, saith my Soul; and I Will therefore hope unto Eternity. [ 25] And that just Soul, which dayly shall attend Upon the Lord, shall never want a friend. [ 26] 'Tis good that man should hope and wait upon Th' Almighties pleasure and salvation. [ 27] 'Tis good for man to exercise the truth, And bear the yoke of his offending youth. [ 28] He sits alone, and silently makes known, He bears no other burthen then his own. [ 29] His humbled mouth salutes the dusty ground, As if some hopes of mercy may be found. [ 30] He's fill'd with shame, he willingly invites T'a second stroke the hand of him that smites. [ 31] For they that strive, and really endeavor, God will not leave, nor cast them off for ever. [ 32] He will have pity, though he sends a grief; In multitudes of mercy lies relief. [ 33] He doth not punish, nor augment the smart Of sinners children with a willing heart. [ 34] His feet take no delight to crush to death Th' offending pris'ners of th' inferior earth.

To turn away mans right (his heart abhors) [ 35] Before the face of their superiors. And to subvert a man in his just cause, [ 36] The Lord approveth not, 'tis not his Laws. And who is he whose spend-thrift tongue dare say, [ 37] This thing shall come to pass, when Heav'n says nay? Out of the mouth of him that's God indeed [ 38] There doth not evil, but known good proceed. Why doth a living man with grumbling thoughts [ 39] Complain as one that's punisht for his faults? Let's search, let's try our ways, let's turn again [ 40] To God, and he will turn away our pain. And let our hands b'extended with our Souls [ 41] To Heav'ns Star-chamber, where our God con∣trouls. We have rebelliously transgrest, and thou, [ 42] Thou hast not pard'ned with a cheerful brow. Thine anger hath o'reshadowed us, thou hast [ 43] Slain without pity, we thy anger taste. Th' ast vail'd thy self with clouds, which will not let [ 44] Our prayers pass thorough to discharge our debt. And as th' off-scouring thou, O Lord, hast made us [ 45] Amongst those factious people that betray'd us. Our greedy enemies have op'ned wide [ 46] Their mouths against us, and our pains deride. Fear, like a snare, incloses us about, [ 47] And desolation will not keep without. Mine eyes run down like hasty floods of water, [ 48] For the destruction of my peoples Daughter. Mine eyes are full, and tears do stream upon [ 49] My cheeks without an intermission:

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[ 50] Till Heav'n look'd down on my enriver'd face, And view'd my weeping from his holy place. [ 51] Mine eyes affect my pining heart with pity, Because of all the Daughters of my City. [ 52] And causless (like a frighted bird that flies) I still am chased by my enemies. [ 53] They have destroy'd me in the dungeon, nay They cast a stone upon me where I lay. [ 54] Th' imperious waves mounted above my head, And then I cry'd, Alas, alas, I'm dead. [ 55] I call'd upon thy Name (O Lord;) my voyce Out of the dungeon made a dreadful noise. [ 56] Th' ast heard my cries, Oh let thy ears not lie Hid from the breathing of my doleful cry. [ 57] And in that day when I on thee did call, Thou cam'st, and bid me never fear at all. [ 58] And when my Soul (O Lord) was fil'd with strife, Thou didst both plead my cause, and save my life, [ 59] And thou hast plainly seen my wrong'd estate; Judg thou my cause, be thou my Advocate. [ 60] For thou hast seen their vengeance, thou dost see Their deep imaginations against me. [ 61] Thou their reproach hast heard, and apprehended What against me their busie thoughts intended. [ 62] Thou know'st the very lips of them that rose Against me, and the malice of my foes. [ 63] Behold their sitting and their rising, I Am all their musick, and their melody. [ 64] Render to them a recompence, O God, And let them feel thy handy-work, thy rod.

O give them grief of heart; O let them burst [ 65] With dregs of sorrow, let them be accurst. And let thy angry persecuting hand [ 66] Destroy, confound, and sweep them from the Land.

Meditatio in Capitulum.

COme, come, my Soul, do not obnubilate Thy self with smoky pleasures, nor create More vain delights to please thy toyish minde: Be serious now; let pleasures be confin'd. Th' Almighty's angry, and his angry Breath Expresses nothing but resolved Death. His wrath is kindled, and his furious hand Threatens a ruine to a sinful Land. His bow is bent; behold he stands prepar'd, Tis he, 'tis he, that will not be out-dar'd: And should his roving messenger impart A secret sorrow to a private heart; What then? Can all the balsams may be found ••ecure so great, so terrible a wound? No, no: O then let thy discerning eye ••e truly watchful; for discovery ••ft-times prevents a mischief: he's a stranger ••o Heav'ns high Court, that thinks t'outbrave a danger ••ehold (my soul) thou art inviron'd round ••ith troops of adversaries; hark, they sound

Their vilifying trumpets: hark, they mock, And make thy sorrows but their laughing stock. Dost thou not hear them, how they shout and cry▪ As though they'd cleave th' unseparable sky? O be not deaf; rouze up thy self, advance Thy backward thoughts, sleep not in ignorance. Provoke not Heav'n too much: O do not still Ʋrge more and more his most unwilling will. Observe but how unpleasantly his arm Draws up his bow, as one that's loath to harm. Methinks I hear him say, O can ye tell! Why will ye dye, ye house of Israel? Methinks I hear his never-ending breath Breathe a disdain against a sinners death. Methinks I hear his grieved spirit say, Ye that are weary, come, O come away, And lay your burthens on my back, and I Will bear them all; I'l bear them willingly; Why will ye dye? why will ye shut your eyes, And thus run head-long after vanities? Open your Adder ears, come and rejoyce With me and mine; let my harmonious voyce Invite you: Ah, what pleasures can accrue, From shadows, to such substances as you? Cast off the works of darkness, let true light Expel those mists: O come when I invite. What do ye mean? O tell me, tell me why Ye love to tumble in impurity? Ah now my Soul! let admiration prove That Heav'n's compos'd of nothing but of Love▪

O Love beyond expression! My deserts (Rather then Mercy) claim a thousand darts. Call home thy wandring thoughts, and let them all (Like servants) be obedient to thy Call. Examine them; the very best will show, Thy best deserts are but an overthrow. Review thy actions; see if they can yeeld One grain of comfort: see if they can shield Thy threatned state: The more men strive to smo∣ther Their sins, the more one sin begets another. Then fly, dull soul, to Heav'ns high Court, & there Melt, melt, into an everlasting tear. Attone thy God, let not thy tongue deny The truth to him, when he shall ask thee, why, Why hast thou done this wickedness? Confess, 'Tis thou hast sinn'd, 'tis he that must depress That head-increasing Hydra: Then shalt thou ••ehold with what a voluntary brow He'l entertain thee, and those joys impart To thee, which wait upon a contrite heart. He will have pity, though he sends a grief: In multitudes of mercy lies relief. The God of Love did never take delight ••o mantle sinners with the clouds of night. ••e's an indulgent Father, and his care •• infinite, as all his mercies are.

Compose thy numerous thoughts, my Soul, and run: O tell that Father, thou wilt be his Son.

CHAP. IV.

Contents.

1 Sion bewaileth her pitiful estate: 13 She con∣fesseth her sins. 21 Edom is threatned. 22 Si¦on is comforted.

[ 1] HOw is the gold grown dim! how is the fine The purest changed, that was wont to shine The stones that pav'd the Sanct'ary are thrown Into the streets, for beasts to trample on. [ 2] The sons of Sion, which I could compare To finest gold, behold, see now they are Esteem'd as earthen pitchers, which the hands Of the industrious Potter still commands. [ 3] The ill-shap'd monsters, which the Ocean owns As proper guests, nourish their little ones: But ah, my Daughters are grown pitiless, Like Ostriches within the wilderness. [ 4] The wordless tongues of thirsty children cleave To their unliquid mouths; they never leave Their integrating cries: Poor hearts in vain They cry for food, but can no food obtain. [ 5] And they that fed upon delicious sweets, Are desolate in the unquiet streets:

They that were brought up in a scarlet dress, Embrace a dunghil as their happiness. For ah, my peoples Daughter suffers more [ 6] For her great sins, then Sodom did before. Her beautified Nazarites could show [ 7] A purer white then milk, whiter then snow; Their bodies then the rubies were more red, With shining Saphire were they polished. But now their changed visages excel [ 8] The coal in blackness; they that knew them well, Now know them not: their flesh adheres & sticks: Unto their bones, they are like with'red sticks: Those that are ravisht of their fading breath [ 9] By the encountring sword, enjoy a death Transcending theirs, whose lingring souls are pinde For want of food: Ah Famine's never kinde! The woful women boyl their young, they have [ 10] Turn'd their own fruitful bellies to a grave. The Lord hath now accomplished his ire, [ 11] Pour'd out his streaming anger, caus'd a fire To flame in Sion, which devour'd and layd Those buildings waste, which their own hands had made, The wisest Kings, nor the worlds copious Nations [ 12] Did ever think to see these great invasions Of the unbridled foe, whose head-long courses Divides her gates with their divided forces. The Priests & Prophets crimeless blood have shed; [ 13] Their sins drew down this mischief on their head. Like those they wander, whose benighted eyes [ 14] Attract no light from the all-lightning skies:

They have themselves polluted, so that none. Can touch their clothes; they are with blood o're∣flown. [ 15] The people cry, depart, what do ye mean? Depart, depart, touch not, it is unclean: The Heathen, as they fled together, cry'd, With us they shall not sojourn, nor abide. [ 16] Gods anger hath divided them; he never Will love them more, but cast them off for ever: They dis-respected Priests, and they forgot The gravest Elders, whom they pitied not. [ 17] But as for us, our help-beguiled eyes Fail'd us as yet, no comfort would arise To us; we watch'd for Nations, but their pow'r Could not protect us from so great a showre. [ 18] They hunt our steps, our oft-extended feet Cannot divide their paces in the street: Our end is neer, and our days total sum Is now fulfil'd, for now our end is come. [ 19] Our persecuters, our tormentors are Swifter then Eagles that enforce the ayr: Upon the mountains they pursu'd us; They, To trap our feet, in ambushcado lay. [ 20] Those pits, which they for ruine have appointed, Inclos'd our Souls delight, the Lords Anointed; Under whose shadow we shall live, we said, Amongst the Heathens; thus are we dismay'd. [ 21] O Edoms daughter, now stretch out thy voyce, Be glad; and for a time in Ʋz rejoyce: This cup shall pass along to thee, thou shalt Be drunk and naked, 'cause thou didst revolt.

Thy plagues expire, O Sions daughters! he [ 22] No more will lead thee to captivity: But Edom, O lament, lift up thine eyes, For Heav'n will visit thy iniquities.

Meditatio in Capitulum.

DIstracted Sion, having spent her days In supine negligence, stands in a maze, Not knowing what to do: her wonted joys Yeeld torment, not contentment, seeming toys, And childish trifles, which perplex her more, Then thousand pleasures pleasur'd her before. And now her alienated minde begins To ruminate upon her former sins: Her studious thoughts recount what precious time She spent in folly; weighing every crime In equal balance, posing them aright, Findes them too heavy, and her self too light. And like a frighted bird, her winged minde Flies up and down, thinking some rest to finde In sorrows wilderness: But ah, who can Finde a lost Jewel in the Ocean! Now we may see how her embraced folly Is quite dissolved into melancholly. And those lascivious hours, which she hath spent, Seem like grim Marshals giving punishment

To an offending wretch: As in a dream, The fancy makes each object seem extream; And why? b••cause the judgment which should guide Th' unruly fancy, sleeping's layd aside: The senses once lock'd up, the fancy may Not onely claim a priviledg to play, But to delude, and represent those things To meanest Subjects, which belong to Kings; Which makes the flatter'd Senses even dance, And leap for joy, and striving to advance Themselves, awake; and finding all's but vain, Reason steps in, and makes them poor again. Even thus was poor Jerus'lem lull'd asleep With fancy-pleasing pleasure, which did keep A rendezvouz within her, lest that doubt Should interpose, and put the fancy out Of frame; And by a more diviner art Should breed a Meditation in her heart. For when the wak'ned Senses once have gain'd The upper hand, the fancy is restrain'd, And curb'd by judgment; Reason too survives Again, and claims her own Prerogatives: The apprehension with her new-got pow'r Begins to taste and apprehend how sowre Her sweets are grown: Ah then she cries! I see I'm turn'd to nothing, being turn'd from thee, My great Redeemer, I have quite exil'd Thy mercies from my bosom, and revil'd Thy just commands, presuming oftentimes To urge, with my reiterated crimes,

Thy long-continued patience; and exprest No grief at all from my obdurate brest. My eyes were still laborious to discover New vanities; and like a heedless lover, Whose beauty-dazled eyes do onely view The Superficies, seeking not how true The heart remaineth, but can fondly be Content with beauties bare Epitomie. And thus my rash advent'ring Soul went on, (Pleasures admit no intermission To them, whose hearts are envious to obtain A present pleasure, but a future pain:) And ah, how quickly's yeelding flesh and blood Surpriz'd and conquer'd by a seeming good! A Good that's good for nothing but t'invite Fond Souls to ruine, and o'revail the light Of real Truth: and with enforc'd delusions Makes them take pleasure in their own confusions. Since then, my Soul, no pleasures can be found In this base Center; let thy thoughts rebound From this fastidious Orb; learn to advance Thy self above the frowns, the reach of chance: And let th' extent of thy ambition be Onely to purchase an Eternitie Of happiness, which shall perpetuate, And make thee glorious in a glorious state. Divorce thy self from thy unsum'd-up faults, Protract no ••ime, but clarifie thy thoughts. Command thy self, and thou shalt be reputed A most deserving Victor: not confuted

By any, though their noble acts may claim A true inheritance to a lasting Fame.

For he that gives himself an overthrow, Conquers a Kingdom, and subdues a foe.

Then arm thy self, my Soul, and strive t'out-dare Satans attempts; be studious to prepare Thy self, and let thy adversary see When he is strongest, th' art as strong as he. Let not his vain delusions interpose 'Twixt thee and Heav'n: O do not thou expose Thy self to wilful danger, but endevor T'accost his actions; but beleeve him never. Thou seest how poor Jerusalem bewails Her sad disasters; how she stoops, and fails Beneath the burthen of her grief, and cries, O boundless grief! O vainest vanities! O dream thou not of transitory things, Which are unconstant, having secret wings To fly away; and flying will confound Thy better parts, and give thy Soul a wound. Be wary then, and let thy thought concur With Heav'ns commands, and so will he tranfer

His Kingdom to thee, full of lasting treasure, Where nothing's greater then the smallest plea∣sure.

CHAP. V.

REmember, Lord, what's come upon us; see, [ 1] Ponder the greatness of our infamy. Strangers inherit that which is our due, [ 2] Our habitation's turn'd to aliens too. For we are Orphans, and all fatherless, [ 3] Our Mothers are as Widows in distress. We buy our water, (O unhappy fate!) [ 4] And purchase fuel at too dear a rate. Our necks are persecuted and unblest, [ 5] And still we labor, but obtain no rest. Unto the Egyptians we our hand have spread, [ 6] Desiring to be satisfied with bread. Our buried fathers sin'd in former times, [ 7] And we have born the burthen of their crimes Servants have rul'd us, and there's none that will [ 8] Deliver us, but let them rule us still. With peril of our lives we have obtain'd [ 9] Our bread, because the sword was unrestrain'd. Our skins are black, like to an oven, and dry, [ 10] Because the Famine caus'd a Tyranny. Sion and Judahs daughter have been led [ 11] Away, and violently ravished. Princes are hang'd up by the hands; the faces [ 12] Of Elders have no honor but disgraces.

[ 13] They made the young men grinde; the children blood Fainted beneath the burthen of their wood. [ 14] The Elders at their gates did not abide, The young mens musick too is layd aside. [ 15] The joy is ceas'd which was our hearts relief, Our active dancing's turn'd to passive grief. [ 16] The crown is fallen from our heads; and wo, Wo be to us that have offended so. [ 17] Our hearts are faint, and our suffused eyes Are dim, because of these calamities. [ 18] Because that Sions mountain's desolate, The foxes walk thereon to recreate [ 19] Themselves: But thou, O Lord, shalt sit on high Upon thy Throne, unto Eternity. [ 20] Wherefore dost thou forsake us, and demure Thy self so long from us, that seem secure: [ 21] Turn thou, and we are turn'd; Lord we implore Renew our days, as thou hast done before. [ 22] But thou hast quite rejected us, and thou Beholdst thy servants with an angry brow.

Meditatio in Capitulum.

COmplaining, what is that? will that relieve Impris'ned souls, or teach thē how to grieve▪ Tell me, sad Soul, can greater wants converse With flesh and blood? nay, what more lasting curse Can be entail'd on man, then to complain To such an ear as will not once retain

The least expression of a grief, but cry, Let woe attend him to Eternity? O dismal sentence! and if this be all, 'Twould grieve a man that e're he griev'd at all, To be thus harshly answer'd, and excluded From hopes of mercy; Be not thus deluded Despairing Soul.

Jerusalem, 'tis true, she did complain; And was that all? O no, her tongue did chain A prayer to her Petition, and her eyes Were dayly trickling for her miseries. Where is that man, that if he chance to be Deprived of his goods by robberie, Will sit complaining by himself, and try No lawful means for a recovery Of what he lost? should we not deem him mad, To lose that good, which might be easily had, If sought? This Proverb calls it to my minde, He that will spare to seek, must spare to finde. Even so, if Satan, whose depriving pow'r Shall take a watch'd advantage, and devour The Manna of our Souls, shall we then say, 'Tis gone, 'tis gone, Satan has stoln't away? And ah, can these, these naked words recal A lost estate? O no, 'twill but enthral Our happiness the more, and make our grief The more extream, admitting no relief. My Soul, if Satan e're shall make attempt Ʋpon thy weakness, lab'ring to exempt

And win thee from thy self; go and make known Thy cause to Heav'ns Judg-Advocate: bemoan Thy self with tears; complain, confess, and pray: God loves confession, but abhors delay. Run, run unto him, that thou mayst prevent The wrath and censure of his Parliament. Go, go, for there thou shalt be sure to finde Abundance link'd together in one minde. There is no faction, no divisions there, But all are setled in one hemisphere Of true Opinion: There is none t'expect A bribe; or else without a bribe neglect To agitate thy business, or exact Ʋpon thy guiltless conscience, or enact Their several humors: There is none to bring Thy Soul in danger, 'cause th' ast lov'd thy King, Thy heav'nly King, by whom thou shalt possess A true and no excised happiness. O endless joy! a joy that far transcends The deepest thoughts; a joy that never ends. Be ravish'd, 0 my Soul! and meditate Ʋpon Jerusalem: Let her sad state Be as a caveat to thee; let her fall Teach thee to stand: let her detested gall Prove honey to thee; so mayst thou derive Thy welfare from her sorrows, and survive In everlasting bliss: Peace beyond measure Shall crown thee with vicissitude of Pleasure.

Play well thy game, and so will Heav'n extend His liberal grace, and bless thee in the End.