Silex scintillans, or, Sacred poems and priuate eiaculations by Henry Vaughan ...

Silex Scintillans, &c.

Regeneration.

A Ward, and still in bonds, one day I stole abroad, It was high-spring, and all the way Primros'd, and hung with shade; Yet, was it frost within, And surly winds Blasted my infant buds, and sinne Like Clouds ecclips'd my mind.

2.

Storm'd thus; I straight perceiv'd my spring Meere stage, and show, My walke a monstrous, mountain'd thing Rough-cast with Rocks, and snow; And as a Pilgrims Eye Far from reliefe, Measures the melancholy skye Then drops, and rains for griefe,

3.

So sigh'd I upwards still, at last 'Twixt steps, and falls I reach'd the pinacle, where plac'd I found a paire of scales, I tooke them up and layd In th'one late paines, The other smoake, and pleasures weigh'd But prov'd the heavier graines;

4.

With that, some cryed, Away: straight I Obey'd, and led Full East, a faire, fresh field could spy Some call'd it, Jacobs Bed;

A Virgin-soile, which no Rude feet ere trod, Where (since he stept there,) only go Prophets, and friends of God.

5.

Here, I repos'd; but scarse well set, A grove descryed Of stately height, whose branches met And mixt on every side; I entred and once in (Amaz'd to see't,) Found all was chang'd, and a new spring Did all my senses greet;

6.

The unthrift Sunne shot vitall gold A thousand peeces, And heaven its azure did unfold Checqur'd with snowie fleeces, The aire was all in spice And every bush A garland wore; Thus fed my Eyes But all the Eare lay hush.

7.

Only a little Fountain lent Some use for Eares, And on the dumbe shades language spent The Musick of her teares; I drew her neere, and found The Cisterne full Of divers stones, some bright, and round Others ill-shap'd, and dull.

8.

The first (pray marke,) as quick as light Danc'd through the floud, But, th'last more heavy then the night Nail'd to the Center stood; I wonder'd much, but tyr'd At last with thought, My restless Eye that still desir'd As strange an object brought;

9.

It was a banke of flowers, where I descried (Though 'twas mid-day,) Some fast asleepe, others broad-eyed And taking in the Ray, Here musing long, I heard A rushing wind Which still increas'd, but whence it stirr'd No where I could not find;

10.

I turn'd me round, and to each shade Dispatch'd an Eye, To see, if any leafe had made Least motion, or Reply, But while I listning sought My mind to ease By knowing, where 'twas, or where not, It whisper'd; where I please.

Lord, then said I, On me one breath, And let me dye before my death!

Cant. Cap. 5. ver. 17.

Arise O North, and come thou South-wind, and blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow out.

Death. A Dialogue.

Soule.

'TIs a sad Land, that in one day Hath dull'd thee thus, when death shall freeze Thy bloud to Ice, and thou must stay Tenant for Yeares, and Centuries, How wilt thou brook't? —

Body.

I cannot tell,— But if all sence wings not with thee, And something still be left the dead, I'le wish my Curtaines off to free Me from so darke, and sad a bed;

A neast of nights, a gloomie sphere, Where shadowes thicken, and the Cloud Sits on the Suns brow all the yeare, And nothing moves without a shrowd;

Soule.

'Tis so: But as thou sawest that night Wee travell'd in, our first attempts Were dull, and blind, but Custome straight Our feares, and falls brought to contempt,

Then, when the gastly twelve was past We breath'd still for a blushing East, And bad the lazie Sunne make hast, And on sure hopes, though long, did feast;

But when we saw the Clouds to crack And in those Cranies light appear'd, We thought the day then was not slack, And pleas'd our selves with what wee feard;

Just so it is in death. But thou Shalt in thy mothers bosome sleepe Whilst I each minute grone to know How neere Redemption creepes.

Then shall wee meet to mixe again, and met, 'Tis last good-night, our Sunne shall never set.

Job. Cap: 10. ver. 21.22.

Before I goe whence I shall not returne, even to the land of darknesse, and the shadow of death;

A Land of darknesse, as darkenesse it selfe, and of the sha∣dow of death, without any order, and where the light is as darknesse.

Resurrection and Immortality:

Heb. cap. 10. ve: 20.

By that new, and living way, which he hath prepared for us, through the veile, which is his flesh.

Body.

1.

OFt have I seen, when that renewing breath That binds, and loosens death Inspir'd a quickning power through the dead Creatures a bed, Some drowsie silk-worme creepe From that long sleepe And in weake, infant hummings chime, and knell About her silent Cell Untill at last full with the vitall Ray She wing'd away, And proud with life, and sence, Heav'ns rich Expence, Esteem'd (vaine things!) of two whole Elements As meane, and span-extents. Shall I then thinke such providence will be Lesse friend to me? Or that he can endure to be unjust Who keeps his Covenant even with our dust.

Soule.

2.

Poore, querulous handfull! was't for this I taught thee all that is? Unbowel'd nature, shew'd thee her recruits, And Change of suits And how of death we make A meere mistake, For no thing can to Nothing fall, but still Incorporates by skill, And then returns, and from the wombe of things Such treasure brings As Phenix-like renew'th Both life, and youth; For a preserving spirit doth still passe Untainted through this Masse, Which doth resolve, produce, and ripen all That to it fall; Nor are those births which we Thus suffering see Destroy'd at all; But when times restles wave Their substance doth deprave And the more noble Essence finds his house Sickly, and loose, He, ever young, doth wing Unto that spring, And source of spirits, where he takes his lot Till time no more shall rot His passive Cottage; which (though laid aside,) Like some spruce Bride, Shall one day rise, and cloath'd with shining light All pure, and bright Re-marry to the soule, for 'tis most plaine Thou only fal'st to be refin'd againe.

3.

Then I that here saw darkly in a glasse But mists, and shadows passe,

And, by their owne weake Shine, did search the springs And Course of things Shall with Inlightned Rayes Peirce all their wayes; And as thou saw'st, I in a thought could goe To heav'n, or Earth below To reade some Starre, or Min'rall, and in State There often sate, So shalt thou then with me (Both wing'd, and free,) Rove in that mighty, and eternall light Where no rude shade, or night Shall dare approach us; we shall there no more Watch stars, or pore Through melancholly clouds, and say Would it were Day! One everlasting Saboth there shall runne Without Succession, and without a Sunne.

Dan: Cap: 12. ver: 13.

But goe thou thy way untill the end be, for thou shalt rest, and stand up in thy lot, at the end of the dayes.

Day of Judgement.

WHen through the North a fire shall rush And rowle into the East, And like a firie torrent brush And sweepe up South, and West,

When all shall streame, and lighten round And with surprizing flames Both stars, and Elements confound And quite blot out their names,

When thou shalt spend thy sacred store Of thunders in that heate And low as ere they lay before Thy six-dayes-buildings beate,

When like a scrowle the heavens shal passe And vanish cleane away, And nought must stand of that vast space Which held up night, and day,

When one lowd blast shall rend the deepe, And from the wombe of earth Summon up all that are asleepe Unto a second birth,

When thou shalt make the Clouds thy seate, And in the open aire The Quick, and dead, both small and great Must to thy barre repaire;

O then it wilbe all too late To say, what shall I doe? Repentance there is out of date And so is mercy too;

Prepare, prepare me then, O God! And let me now begin To feele my loving fathers Rod Killing the man of sinne!

Give me, O give me Crosses here, Still more afflictions lend, That pill, though bitter, is most deare That brings health in the end;

Lord, God! I beg nor friends, nor wealth But pray against them both; Three things I'de have, my soules chief health! And one of these seme loath,

A living FAITH, a HEART of flesh, The WORLD an Enemie, This last will keepe the first two fresh, And bring me, where I'de be.

1 Pet. 4.7.

Now the end of all things is at hand, be you therefore so∣ber, and watching in prayer.

Religion.

MY God, when I walke in those groves, And leaves thy spirit doth still fan, I see in each shade that there growes An Angell talking with a man.

Under a Juniper, some house, Or the coole Mirtles canopie, Others beneath an Oakes greene boughs, Or at some fountaines bubling Eye;

Here Jacob dreames, and wrestles; there Elias by a Raven is fed, Another time by th' Angell, where He brings him water with his bread;

In Abr'hams Tent the winged guests (O how familiar then was heaven!) Eate, drinke, discourse, sit downe, and rest Untill the Coole, and shady Even;

Nay thou thy selfe, my God, in fire, Whirle-winds, and Clouds, and the soft voice Speak'st there so much, that I admire We have no Conf'rence in these daies;

Is the truce broke? or 'cause we have A mediatour now with thee, Doest thou therefore old Treaties wave And by appeales from him decree?

Or is't so, as some green heads say That now all miracles must cease? Though thou hast promis'd they should stay The tokens of the Church, and peace;

No, no; Religion is a Spring That from some secret, golden Mine Derives her birth, and thence doth bring Cordials in every drop, and Wine;

But in her long, and hidden Course Passing through the Earths darke veines, Growes still from better unto worse, And both her taste, and colour staines,

Then drilling on, learnes to encrease False Ecchoes, and Confused sounds, And unawares doth often seize On veines of Sulphur under ground;

So poison'd, breaks forth in some Clime, And at first sight doth many please, But drunk, is puddle, or meere slime And 'stead of Phisick, a disease;

Just such a tainted sink we have Like that Samaritans dead Well, Nor must we for the Kernell crave Because most voices like the shell.

Heale then these waters, Lord; or bring thy flock, Since these are troubled, to the springing rock, Looke downe great Master of the feast; O shine, And turn once more our Water into Wine!

Cant. cap. 4. ver. 12.

My sister, my spouse is as a garden Inclosed, as a Spring shut up, and a fountain sealed up.

The Search.

'TIs now cleare day: I see a Rose Bud in the bright East, and disclose The Pilgrim-Sunne; all night have I Spent in a roving Extasie To find my Saviour; I have been As far as Bethlem, and have seen His Inne, and Cradle; Being there I met the Wise-men, askt them where He might be found, or what starre can Now point him out, grown up a Man? To Egypt hence I fled, ran o're All her parcht bosome to Nile's shore Her yearly nurse; came back, enquir'd Amongst the Doctors, and desir'd To see the Temple, but was shown A little dust, and for the Town A heap of ashes, where some sed A small bright sparkle was a bed, Which would one day (beneath the pole,) Awake, and then refine the whole. Tyr'd here, I come to Sychar; thence To Jacobs wel, bequeathed since Unto his sonnes, (where often they In those calme, golden Evenings lay Watring their flocks, and having spent Those white dayes, drove home to the Tent Their well-fleec'd traine;) And here (O fate!) I sit, where once my Saviour sate; The angry Spring in bubbles swell'd Which broke in sighes still, as they fill'd, And whisper'd, Jesus had been there But Jacobs children would not heare. Loath hence to part, at last I rise But with the fountain in my Eyes, And here a fresh search is decreed He must be found, where he did bleed;

I walke the garden, and there see Idaea's of his Agonie, And moving anguishments that set His blest face in a bloudy sweat; I climb'd the Hill, perus'd the Crosse Hung with my gaine, and his great losse, Never did tree beare fruit like this, Balsam of Soules, the bodyes blisse; But, O his grave! where I saw lent (For he had none,) a Monument, An undefil'd, and new-heaw'd one, But there was not the Corner-stone; Sure (then said I,) my Quest is vaine, Hee'le not be found, where he was slaine, So mild a Lamb can never be 'Midst so much bloud, and Crueltie; I'le to the Wilderness, and can Find beasts more mercifull then man, He liv'd there safe, 'twas his retreat From the fierce Jew, and Herods heat, And forty dayes withstood the fell, And high temptations of hell; With Seraphins there talked he His fathers flaming ministrie, He heav'nd their walks, and with his eyes Made those wild shades a Paradise, Thus was the desert sanctified To be the refuge of his bride; I'le thither then; see, It is day, The Sun's broke through to guide my way. But as I urg'd thus, and writ down What pleasures should my Journey crown, What silent paths, what shades, and Cells, Faire, virgin-flowers, and hallow'd Wells I should rove in, and rest my head Where my deare Lord did often tread, Sugring all dangers with successe, Me thought I heard one singing thus;

1.

Leave, leave thy gadding thoughts; Who Pores and spies Still out of Doores descries Within them nought.

2.

The skinne, and shell of things Though faire, are not Thy wish, nor Pray'r, but got By meere Despaire of wings.

3.

To rack old Elements, Or Dust; and say Sure here he must needs stay Is not the way, nor Just.

Search well another world; who studies this, Travels in Clouds, seekes Manna, where none is.

Acts Cap. 17. ve. 27, 28.

That they should seeke the Lord, if happily they might feele after him, and find him, though he be not far off from every one of us, for in him we live, and move, and have our being.

Isaacs Marriage.

Gen. cap. 24. ver. 63.

And Isaac went out to pray in the field at the Even-tide, and he lift up his eyes, and saw, and behold, the Camels were comming.

PRaying! and to be married? It was rare, But now 'tis monstrous; and that pious care Though of our selves, is so much out of date, That to renew't, were to degenerate. But thou a Chosen sacrifice wert given, And offer'd up so early unto heaven Thy flames could not be out; Religion was Ray'd into thee, like beames into a glasse, Where, as thou grewst, it multiply'd, and shin'd The sacred Constellation of thy mind. But being for a bride, sure, prayer was Very strange stuffe wherewith to court thy lasse, Had'st ne'r an oath, nor Complement? thou wert An odde, corse sutor; Hadst thou but the art Of these our dayes, thou couldst have coyn'd thee twenty New sev'rall oathes, and Complements (too) plenty; O sad, and wild excesse! and happy those White dayes, that durst no impious mirth expose! When sinne, by sinning oft, had not lost sence, Nor bold-fac'd custome banish'd Innocence; Thou hadst no pompous traine, nor Antick crowd Of young, gay swearers, with their needless, lowd Retinue; All was here smooth as thy bride And calme like her, or that mild Evening-tide; Yet, hadst thou nobler guests: Angels did wind, And rove about thee, guardians of thy mind, These fetch'd thee home thy bride, and all the way Advis'd thy servant what to doe, and say; These taught him at the Well, and thither brought The Chast, and lovely object of thy thought;

But here was ne'r a Complement, not one Spruce, supple cringe, or study'd looke put on, All was plaine, modest truth: Nor did she come In rowles, and Curles, mincing, and stately dumbe, But in a frighted, virgin-blush approach'd Fresh as the morning, when 'tis newly Coach'd; O sweet, divine simplicity! O grace Beyond a Curled lock, or painted face! A Pitcher too she had, nor thought it much To carry that, which some would scorn to touch; With which in mild, chast language she did wooe To draw him drinke, and for his Camels too. And now thou knewst her comming, It was time To get thee wings on, and devoutly climbe Unto thy God, for Marriage of all states Makes most unhappy, or most fortunates; This brought thee forth, where now thou didst undresse Thy soule, and with new pinions refresh Her wearied wings, which so restor'd did flye Above the stars, a track unknown, and high, And in her piercing flight perfum'd the ayre Scatt'ring the Myrrhe, and Incense of thy pray'r. So from * 1.1 Lahai-roi's Well, some spicie cloud Woo'd by the Sun swels up to be his shrowd, And from his moist wombe weeps a fragrant showre, Which, scatter'd in a thousand pearls▪ each flowre And herb partakes, where having stood awhile And something coold the parch'd, and thirstie Isle, The thankfull Earth unlocks her selfe, and blends, A thousand odours, which (all mixt,) she sends Up in one cloud, and so returnes the skies That dew they lent, a breathing sacrifice. Thus soar'd thy soul, who (though young,) didst in∣herit Together with his bloud, thy fathers spirit, Whose active zeale, and tryed faith were to thee Familiar ever since thy Infancie, Others were tym'd, and train'd up to't, but thou Didst thy swift years in piety out-grow,

Age made them rev'rend, and a snowie head, But thou wert so, e're time his snow could shed; Then, who would truly limne thee out, must paint First, a young Patriarch, then a marry'd Saint.

The Brittish Church.

AH! he is fled! And while these here their mists, and shadowes hatch, My glorious head Doth on those hills of Myrrhe, and Incense watch. Hast, hast my deare, The Souldiers here Cast in their lotts againe, That seamless coat The Iewes touch'd not, These dare divide, and staine.

2.

O get thee wings! Ot if as yet (untill these clouds depart, And the day springs,) Thou think'st it good to tarry where thou art, Write in thy bookes My ravish'd looks Slain flock, and pillag'd fleeces, And haste thee so As a young Roe Upon the mounts of spices.

O Rosa Campi! O lilium Convallium! quomodò nunc facta es pabulum Aprorum!

The Lampe.

'TIs dead night round about: Horrour doth creepe And move on with the shades; stars nod, and sleepe, And through the dark aire spin a firie thread Such as doth gild the lazie glow-worms bed. Yet, burn'st thou here, a full day; while I spend My rest in Cares, and to the dark world lend These flames, as thou dost thine to me; I watch That houre, which must thy life, and mine dispatch; But still thou doest out-goe me, I can see Met in thy flames, all acts of piety; Thy light, is Charity; Thy heat, is Zeale; And thy aspiring, active fires reveale Devotion still on wing; Then, thou dost weepe Still as thou burn'st, and the warme droppings creepe To measure out thy length, as if thou'dst know What stock, and how much time were left thee now; Nor dost thou spend one teare in vain, for still As thou dissolv'st to them, and they distill, They're stor'd up in the socket, where they lye, When all is spent, thy last, and sure supply, And such is true repentance, ev'ry breath Wee spend in sighes, is treasure after death; Only, one point escapes thee; That thy Oile Is still out with thy flame, and so both faile; But when soe're I'm out, both shalbe in, And where thou mad'st an end, there I'le begin.

Mark Cap. 13. ver. 35.

Watch you therefore, for you know not when the master of the house commeth, at Even, or at mid-night, or at the Cock-crowing, or in the morning.

Mans fall, and Recovery.

FArewell you Everlasting hills! I'm Cast Here under Clouds, where stormes, and tempests blast This sully'd flowre Rob'd of your Calme, nor can I ever make Transplanted thus, one leafe of his t'awake, But ev'ry houre He sleepes, and droops, and in this drowsie state Leaves me a slave to passions, and my fate; Besides I've lost A traine of lights, which in these Sun-shine dayes Were my sure guides, and only with me stayes (Unto my cost,) One sullen beame, whose charge is to dispense More punishment, than knowledge to my sense; Two thousand yeares I sojourn'd thus; at last Jeshuruns king Those famous tables did from Sinai bring; These swell'd my feares, Guilts, trespasses, and all this Inward Awe, For sinne tooke strength, and vigour from the Law. Yet have I found A plenteous way, (thanks to that holy one!) To cancell all that e're was writ in stone, His saving wound Wept bloud, that broke this Adamant, and gave To sinners Confidence, life to the grave; This makes me span My fathers journeys, and in one faire step O're all their pilgrimage, and labours leap, For God (made man,) Reduc'd th'Extent of works of faith; so made Of their Red Sea, a Spring; I wash, they wade.

Rom. Cap. 18. ver. 19.

As by the offence of one, the fault came on all men to con∣demnation; So by the Righteousness of one, the benefit aboun∣ded towards all men to the Iustification of life.

The Showre.

'TWas so, I saw thy birth: That drowsie Lake From her faint bosome breath'd thee, the disease Of her sick waters, and Infectious Ease. But, now at Even Too grosse for heaven, Thou fall'st in teares, and weep'st for thy mistake.

2.

Ah! it is so with me; oft have I prest Heaven with a lazie breath, but fruitles this Peirc'd not; Love only can with quick accesse Unlock the way, When all else stray The smoke, and Exhalations of the brest.

3.

Yet, if as thou doest melt, and with thy traine Of drops make soft the Earth, my eyes could weep O're my hard heart, that's bound up, and asleep, Perhaps at last (Some such showres past,) My God would give a Sun-shine after raine.

Distraction.

O Knit me, that am crumbled dust! the heape Is all dispers'd, and cheape; Give for a handfull, but a thought And it is bought; Hadst thou Made me a starre, a pearle, or a rain-bow, The beames I then had shot My light had lessend not, But now I find my selfe the lesse, the more I grow; The world Is full of voices; Man is call'd, and hurl'd By each, he answers all, Knows ev'ry note, and call, Hence, still Fresh dotage tempts, or old usurps his will. Yet, hadst thou clipt my wings, when Coffin'd in This quicken'd masse of sinne, And saved that light, which freely thou Didst then bestow, I feare I should have spurn'd, and said thou didst forbeare; Or that thy store was lesse, But now since thou didst blesse So much, I grieve, my God! that thou hast made me such. I grieve? O, yes! thou know'st I doe; Come, and releive And tam••, and keepe downe with thy light Dust that would rise, and dimme my sight, Lest left alone too long Amidst the noise, and throng, Oppressed I Striving to save the whole, by parcells dye.

The Pursuite.

LOrd! what a busie, restles thing Hast thou made man? Each day, and houre he is on wing, Rests not a span; Then having lost the Sunne, and light By clouds surpriz'd He keepes a Commerce in the night With aire disguis'd; Hadst thou given to this active dust A state untir'd, The lost Sonne had not left the huske Nor home desir'd; That was thy secret, and it is Thy mercy too, For when all failes to bring to blisse, Then, this must doe. Ah! Lord! and what a Purchase will that be To take us sick, that sound would not take thee?

Mount of Olives.

SWeete, sacred hill! on whole fair brow My Saviour sate, shall I allow Language to love And Idolize some shade, or grove, Neglecting thee? such ill-plac'd wit, Conceit, or call it what you please Is the braines fit, And meere disease;

2.

Cotswold, and Coopers both have met With learned swaines, and Eccho yet Their pipes, and wit; But thou sleep'st in a deepe neglect Untouch'd by any; And what need The sheep bleat thee a silly Lay That heard'st both reed And sheepward play?

3.

Yet, if Poets mind thee well They shall find thou art their hill, And fountaine too, Their Lord with thee had most to doe; He wept once, walkt whole nights on thee, And from thence (his suff'rings ended,) Unto glorie Was attended;

4.

Being there, this spacious ball Is but his narrow footstoole all, And what we thinke Unsearchable, now with one winke He doth comprise; But in this aire When he did stay to beare our Ill And sinne, this Hill Was then his Chaire.

The Incarnation, and Passion.

LOrd! when thou didst thy selfe undresse Laying by thy robes of glory, To make us more, thou wouldst be lesse, And becam'st a wofull story.

To put on Clouds instead of light, And cloath the morning-starre with dust, Was a translation of such height As, but in thee, was ne'r exprest;

Brave wormes, and Earth! that thus could have A God Enclos'd within your Cell, Your maker pent up in a grave, Life lockt in death, heav'n in a shell;

Ah, my deare Lord! what couldst thou spye In this impure, rebellious clay, That made thee thus resolve to dye For those that kill thee every day?

O what strange wonders could thee move To slight thy precious bloud, and breath! Sure it was Love, my Lord; for Love Is only stronger far than death.

The Call.

COme my heart! come my head In sighes, and teares! 'Tis now, since you have laine thus dead Some twenty years; Awake, awake, Some pitty take Upon your selves — Who never wake to grone, nor weepe, Shall be sentenc'd for their sleepe.

2.

Doe but see your sad estate, how many sands Have left us, while we careles sate With folded hands; What stock of nights, Of dayes, and yeares In silent flights Stole by our eares, How ill have we our selves bestow'd Whose suns are all set in a Cloud?

3.

Yet, come, and let's peruse them all; And as we passe, What sins on every minute fall Score on the glasse; Then weigh, and rate Their heavy State Untill The glasse with teares you fill; That done, we shalbe safe, and good, Those beasts were cleane, that chew'd the Cud.

¶

THou that know'st for whom I mourne, And why these teares appeare, That keep'st account, till he returne Of all his dust left here; As easily thou mightst prevent As now produce these teares, And adde unto that day he went A faire supply of yeares. But 'twas my sinne that forc'd thy hand To cull this Prim-rose out, That by thy early choice forewarn'd My soule might looke about. O what a vanity is man! How like the Eyes quick winke His Cottage failes; whose narrow span Begins even at the brink! Nine months thy hands are fashioning us, And many yeares (alas!) E're we can lisp, or ought discusse Concerning thee, must passe; Yet have I knowne thy slightest things A feather, or a shell, A stick, or Rod which some Chance brings The best of us excell, Yea, I have knowne these shreds out last A faire-compacted frame And for one Twenty we have past Almost outlive our name. Thus hast thou plac'd in mans outside Death to the Common Eye, That heaven within him might abide, And close eternitie;

Hence, youth, and folly (mans first shame,) Are put unto the slaughter, And serious thoughts begin to tame The wise-mans-madnes Laughter; Dull, wretched wormes! that would not keepe Within our first faire bed, But out of Paradise must creepe For ev'ry foote to tread; Yet, had our Pilgrimage bin free, And smooth without a thorne, Pleasures had foil'd Eternitie, And ••a••e, had choakt the Corne. Thus by the Crosse Salvation runnes, Affliction is a mother, Whose painefull throws yield many sons, Each fairer than the other; A silent teare can peirce thy throne, When lowd Joyes want a wing, And sweeter aires streame from a grone, Than any arted string; Thus, Lord, I see my gaine is great, My lesse but little to it, Yet something more I must intreate And only thou canst doe it. O let me (like him,) know my End! And be as glad to find it, And whatsoe'r thou shalt Commend, Still let thy Servant mind it! Then make my soule white as his owne, My faith as pure, and steddy, And deck me, Lord, with the same Crowne Thou hast crownd him already!

Vanity of Spirit.

QUite spent with thoughts I left my Cell, and lay Where a shrill spring tun'd to the early day. I beg'd here long, and gron'd to know Who gave the Clouds so brave a bow, Who bent the spheres, and circled in Corruption with this glorious Ring, What is his name, and how I might Descry some part of his great light. I summon'd nature: peirc'd through all her store, Broke up some seales, which none had touch'd before, Her wombe, her bosome, and her head Where all her secrets lay a bed I rifled quite, and having past Through all the Creatures, came at last To search my selfe, where I did find Traces, and sounds of a strange kind. Here of this mighty spring, I found some drills, With Ecchoes beaten from th' eternall hills; Weake beames, and fires flash'd to my sight, Like a young East, or Moone-shine night, Wich shew'd me in a nook cast by A peece of much antiquity, With Hyerogliphicks quite dismembred, And broken letters scarce remembred. I tooke them up, and (much Joy'd,) went about T' unite those peeces, hoping to find out The mystery; but this neer done, That little light I had was gone: It griev'd me much. At last, said I, Since in these veyls my Ecclips'd Eye May not approach thee, (for at night Who can have commerce with the light?) I'le disapparell, and to buy But one half glaunce, most gladly dye.

The Retreate.

HAppy those early dayes! when I Shin'd in my Angell-infancy. Before I understood this place Appointed for my second race, Or taught my soul to fancy ought But a white, Celestiall thought, When yet I had not walkt above A mile, or two, from my first love, And looking back (at that short space,) Could see a glimpse of his bright-face; When on some gilded Cloud, or flowre My gazing soul would dwell an houre, And in those weaker glories spy Some shadows of eternity; Before I taught my tongue to wound My Conscience with a sinfull sound, Or had the black art to dispence A sev'rall sinne to ev'ry sence, But felt through all this fleshly dresse Bright shootes of everlastingnesse. O how I long to travell back And tread again that ancient track! That I might once more reach that plaine, Where first I left my glorious traine, From whence th' Inlightned spirit sees That shady City of Palme trees; But (ah!) my soul with too much stay Is drunk, and staggers in the way. Some men a forward motion love, But I by backward steps would move, And when this dust falls to the urn In that state I came return.

¶

COme, come, what doe I here? Since he is gone Each day is grown a dozen year, And each houre, one; Come, come! Cut off the sum, By these soil'd teares! (Which only thou Know'st to be true,) Dayes are my feares.

2.

Ther's not a wind can stir, Or beam passe by, But strait I think (though far,) Thy hand is nigh; Come, come! Strike these lips dumb▪ This restles breath That soiles thy name, Will ne'r be tame Untill in death.

3.

Perhaps some think a tombe No house of store, But a dark, and seal'd up wombe, Which ne'r breeds more. Come, come! Such thoughts benum; But I would be With him I weep A bed, and sleep To wake in thee.

¶ Midnight.

WHen to my Eyes (Whilst deep sleep others catches,) Thine hoast of spyes The starres shine in their watches, I doe survey Each busie Ray, And how they work, and wind, And wish each beame My soul doth streame, With the like ardour shin'd; What Emanations, Quick vibrations And bright stirs are there? What thin Ejections, Cold Affections, And slow motions here?

2.

Thy heav'ns (some say,) Are a firie-liquid light, Which mingling aye Streames, and flames thus to the sight. Come then, my god! Shine on this bloud, And water in one beame, And thou shalt see Kindled by thee Both liquors burne, and streame.

O what bright quicknes, Active brightnes, And celestiall flowes Will follow after On that water, Which thy spirit blowes!

Math. Cap. 3. ver. XI.

I indeed baptize you with water unto repentance, but he that commeth after me, is mightier than I, whose shooes I am not worthy to beare, he shall baptize you with the holy Ghost, and with fire.

¶ Content.

PEace, peace! I know 'twas brave, But this corse fleece I shelter in, is slave To no such peece. When I am gone, I shall no ward-robes leave To friend, or sonne But what their own homes weave,

2.

Such, though not proud, nor full, May make them weep, And mourn to see the wooll Outlast the sheep; Poore, Pious weare! Hadst thou bin rich, or fine Perhaps that teare Had mourn'd thy losse, not mine.

3.

Why then these curl'd, puff'd points, Or a laced story? Death sets all out of Joint And scornes their glory; Some Love a Rose In hand, some in the skin; But crosse to those, I would have mine within.

¶

JOy of my life! while left me here, And still my Love! How in thy absence thou dost steere Me from above! A life well lead This truth commends, With quick, or dead It never ends.

2.

Stars are of mighty use: The night Is dark, and long; The Rode foul, and where one goes right, Six may go wrong. One twinkling ray Shot o'r some cloud, May clear much way And guide a croud.

3.

Gods Saints are shining lights: who stays Here long must passe O're dark hills, swift streames, and steep ways As smooth as glasse; But these all night Like Candles, shed Their beams, and light Us into Bed.

4.

They are (indeed,) our Pillar-fires Seen as we go, They are that Cities shining spires We travell too; A swordlike gleame Kept man for sin First Out; This beame Will guide him In.

The Storm.

I See the use: and know my bloud Is not a Sea, But a shallow, bounded floud Though red as he; Yet have I flows, as strong as his, And boyling stremes that rave With the same curling force, and hisse, As doth the mountain'd wave.

2.

But when his waters billow thus, Dark storms, and wind Incite them to that fierce discusse, Else not Inclin'd, Thus the Enlarg'd, inraged air Uncalmes these to a floud, But still the weather that's most fair Breeds tempests in my bloud;

3.

Lord, then round me with weeping Clouds, And let my mind In quick blasts sigh beneath those shrouds A spirit-wind, So shall that storme purge this Recluse Which sinfull ease made foul, And wind, and water to thy use Both wash, and wing my soul.

The Morning-watch.

O Joyes! Infinite sweetnes! with what flowres, And shoots of glory, my soul breakes, and buds! All the long houres Of night, and Rest Through the still shrouds Of sleep, and Clouds, This Dew fell on my Breast; O how it Blouds,

And Spirits all my Earth! heark! In what Rings, And Hymning Circulations the quick world Awakes, and sings; The rising winds, And falling springs, Birds, beasts, all things Adore him in their kinds. Thus all is hurl'd In sacred Hymnes, and Order, The great Chime And Symphony of nature. Prayer is The world in tune, A spirit-voyce, And vocall joyes Whose Eccho is heav'ns blisse. O let me climbe When I lye down! The Pious soul by night Is like a clouded starre, whose beames though sed To shed their light Under some Cloud Yet are above, And shine, and move Beyond that mistie shrowd. So in my Bed That Curtain'd grave, though sleep, like ashes, hide My lamp, and life, both shall in thee abide.

The Evening-watch. A Dialogue.

FArewell! I goe to sleep;* 1.2 but when The day-star springs, I'le wake agen.

Goe, sleep in peace;* 1.3 and when thou lyest Unnumber'd in thy dust when all this frame Is but one dramme, and what thou now descriest In sev'rall parts shall want a name,

Then may his peace be with thee, and each dust Writ in his book, who ne'r betray'd mans trust!

Amen! but hark, e'r we two stray,* 1.4 How many hours do'st think 'till day?

Ah! go; th'art weak, and sleepie.* 1.5 Heav'n Is a plain watch, and without figures winds All ages up; who drew this Circle even He fils it; Dayes, and hours are Blinds. Yet, this take with thee; The last gasp of time Is thy first breath, and mans eternall Prime.

¶

SIlence, and stealth of dayes! 'tis now Since thou art gone, Twelve hundred houres, and not a brow But Clouds hang on. As he that in some Caves thick damp Lockt from the light, Fixeth a solitary lamp, To brave the night, And walking from his Sun, when past That glim'ring Ray Cuts through the heavy mists in haste Back to his day, So o'r fled minutes I retreat Unto that hour Which shew'd thee last, but did defeat Thy light, and pow'r, I search, and rack my soul to see Those beams again, But nothing but the snuff to me Appeareth plain; That dark, and dead sleeps in its known, And common urn, But those fled to their Makers throne, There shine, and burn;

O could I track them! but souls must Track one the other, And now the spirit, not the dust Must be thy brother. Yet I have one Pearle by whose light All things I see, And in the heart of Earth, and night Find Heaven, and thee.

Church-Service.

BLest be the God of Harmony, and Love! The God above! And holy dove! Whose Interceding, spirituall grones Make restless mones For dust, and stones, For dust in every part, But a hard, stonic heart.

2

O how in this thy Quire of Souls I stand (Propt by thy hand) A heap of sand! Which busie thoughts (like winds) would scatter quite And put to flight, But for thy might; Thy hand alone doth tame Those blasts, and knit my frame,

3.

So that both stones, and dust, and all of me Joyntly agree To cry to thee, And in this Musick by thy Martyrs bloud Seal'd, and made good Present, O God! The Eccho of these stones — My sighes, and grones.

Buriall.

O Thou! The first fruits of the dead, And their dark bed, When I am cast into that deep And senseless sleep The wages of my sinne, O then, Thou great Preserver of all men! Watch o're that loose And empty house, Which I sometimes liv'd in.

2.

It is (in truth!) a ruin'd peece Not worth thy Eyes, And scarce a room but wind, and rain Beat through, and stain The seats, and Cells within; Yet thou Led by thy Love wouldst stoop thus low, And in this Cort All filth, and spott, Didst with thy servant Inne.

3.

And nothing can, I hourely see, Drive thee from me, Thou art the same, faithfull, and just In life, or Dust; Though then (thus crumm'd) I stray In blasts, Or Exhalations, and wasts Beyond all Eyes Yet thy love spies That Change, and knows thy Clay.

4.

The world's thy boxe: how then (there rost,) Can I be lost? But the delay is all; Tyme now Is old, and slow, His wings are dull, and sickly; Yet he Thy servant is, and waits on thee, Cutt then the summe, Lord haste, Lord come, O come Lord Jesus quickly!

Rom. Cap. 8. ver. 23.

And not only they, but our selves also, which have the first fruits of the spirit, even wee our selves grone within our selves, waiting for the adoption, to wit, the redemption of our body.

Chearfulness.

LOrd, with what courage, and delight I doe each thing When thy least breath sustaines my wing! I shine, and move Like those above, And (with much gladnesse Quitting sadnesse,) Make me faire dayes of every night.

2.

Affliction thus, meere pleasure is, And hap what will, If thou be in't, 'tis welcome still; But since thy rayes In Sunnie dayes Thou dost thus lend And freely spend, Ah! what shall I return for this?

3.

O that I were all Soul! that thou Wouldst make each part Of this poor, sinfull frame pure heart! Then would I drown My single one, And to thy praise A Consort raise Of Hallelujahs here below.

¶

SUre, there's a tye of Bodyes! and as they Dissolve (with it,) to Clay, Love languisheth, and memory doth rust O'r-cast with that cold dust; For things thus Center'd, without Beames, or Action Nor give, nor take Contaction, And man is such a Marygold, these fled, That shuts, and hangs the head.

2.

Absents within the Line Conspire, and Sense Things distant doth unite, Herbs sleep unto the East, and some fowles thence Watch the Returns of light; But hearts are not so kind: false, short delights Tell us the world is brave, And wrap us in Imaginary flights Wide of a faithfull grave; Thus Lazarus was carried out of town; For 'tis our foes chief art By distance all good objects first to drown, And then besiege the heart. But I will be my own Deaths-head; and though The flatt'rer say, I live, Because Incertainties we cannot know Be sure, not to believe.

Peace.

MY Soul, there is a Countrie Far beyond the stars, Where stands a winged Centrie All skilfull in the wars, There above noise, and danger Sweet peace sits crown'd with smiles, And one born in a Manger Commands the Beauteous files, He is thy gracious friend, And (O my Soul awake!) Did in pure love descend To die here for thy sake, If thou canst get but thither, There growes the flowre of peace, The Rose that cannot wither, Thy fortresse, and thy ease; Leave then thy foolish ranges; For none can thee secure, But one, who never changes, Thy God, thy life, thy Cure.

The Passion.

O My chief good! My dear, dear God! When thy blest bloud Did Issue forth forc'd by the Rod, What pain didst thou Feel in each blow! How didst thou weep, And thy self steep

In thy own precious, saving teares! What cruell smart Did teare thy heart! How didst thou grone it In the spirit, O thou, whom my soul Loves, and feares!

2.

Most blessed Vine! Whose juice so good I feel as Wine, But thy faire branches felt as bloud, How wert thou prest To be my feast! In what deep anguish Didst thou languish, What springs of Sweat, and bloud did drown thee! How in one path Did the full wrath Of thy great Father Crowd, and gather, Doubling thy griefs, when none would own thee!

3.

How did the weight Of all our sinnes, And death unite To wrench, and Rack thy blessed limbes▪ How pale, and bloudie Lookt thy Body! How bruis'd, and broke With every stroke! How meek, and patient was thy spirit! How didst thou cry, And grone on high Father forgive, And let them live, I dye to make my foes inherit!

4.

O blessed Lamb! That took'st my sinne, That took'st my shame How shall thy dust thy praises sing! I would I were One hearty tear! One constant spring! Then would I bring Thee two small mites, and be at strife Which should most vie, My heart, or eye, Teaching my years In smiles, and tears To weep, to sing, thy Death, my Life.

Rom. Cap. 8. ver. 19.

Etenim res Creatae exerto Capite observantes expectant reve∣lationem Filiorum Dei.

ANd do they so? have they a Sense Of ought but Influence? Can they their heads lift, and expect, And grone too? why th'Elect Can do no more: my volumes sed They were all dull, and dead, They judg'd them senslesse, and their state Wholly Inanimate. Go, go; Seal up thy looks, And burn thy books.

2.

I would I were a stone, or tree, Or flowre by pedigree, Or some poor high-way herb, or Spring To flow, or bird to sing!

Then should I (tyed to one sure state,) All day expect my date; But I am sadly loose, and stray A giddy blast each way; O let me not thus range! Thou canst not change.

3.

Sometimes I fit with thee, and tarry An hour, or so, then vary. Thy other Creatures in this Scene Thee only aym, and mean; Some rise to seek thee, and with heads Erect peep from their beds; Others, whose birth is in the tomb, And cannot quit the womb, Sigh there, and grone for thee, Their liberty.

4.

O let not me do lesse! shall they Watch, while I sleep, or play? Shall I thy mercies still abuse With fancies, friends, or newes? O brook it not! thy bloud is mine, And my soul should be thine; O brook it not! why wilt thou stop After whole showres one drop? Sure, thou wilt joy to see Thy sheep with thee.

The Relapse.

MY God, how gracious art thou! I had slipt Almost to hell, And on the verge of that dark, dreadful pit Did hear them yell, But O thy love! thy rich, almighty love That sav'd my soul, And checkt their furie, when I saw them move, And heard them howl; O my sole Comfort, take no more these wayes, This hideous path, And I wil mend my own without delayes, Cease thou thy wrath! I have deserv'd a thick, Egyptian damp, Dark as my deeds, Should mist within me, and put out that lamp Thy spirit feeds; A darting Conscience full of stabs, and fears; No shade but Yewgh, Sullen, and sad Ecclipses, Cloudie spheres, These are my due. But he that with his bloud, (a price too deere,) My scores did pay, Bid me, by vertue from him, chalenge here The brightest day; Sweet, downie thoughts; soft Lilly-shades; Calm streams▪ Joyes full, and true; Fresh, spicie mornings; and eternal beams These are his due.

The Resolve.

I Have consider'd it; and find A longer stay Is but excus'd neglect. To mind One path, and stray Into another, or to none, Cannot be love; When shal that traveller come home, That will not move? If thou wouldst thither, linger not, Catch at the place, Tell youth, and beauty they must rot, They'r but a Case; Loose, parcell'd hearts wil freeze; The Sun With scatter'd locks Scarce warms, but by contraction Can heat rocks; Call in thy Powers; run, and reach Home with the light, Be there, before the shadows stretch, And Span up night; Follow the Cry no more: there is An ancient way All strewed with flowres, and happiness And fresh as May; There turn, and turn no more; Let wits, Smile at fair eies, Or lips; But who there weeping sits, Hath got the Prize.

The Match.

DEar friend! whose holy, ever-living lines Have done much good To many, and have checkt my blood, My fierce, wild blood that still heaves, and inclines, But is still tam'd By those bright fires which thee inflam'd; Here I joyn hands, and thrust my stubborn heart Into thy Deed, There from no Duties to be freed, And if hereafter youth, or folly thwart And claim their share, Here I renounce the pois'nous ware.

ii.

ACcept, dread Lord, the poor Oblation, It is but poore, Yet through thy Mercies may be more. O thou! that canst not wish my souls damnation, Afford me life, And save me from all inward strife! Two Lifes I hold from thee, my gracious Lord▪ Both cost thee deer, For one, I am thy Tenant here; The other, the true life, in the next world And endless is, O let me still mind that in this! To thee therefore my Thoughts, Words, Actions I do resign, Thy will in all be done, not mine. Settle my house, and shut out all distractions That may unknit My heart, and thee planted in it;

Lord Jesu! thou didst bow thy blessed head Upon a tree, O do as much, now unto me! O hear, and heal thy servant! Lord, strike dead All lusts in me, Who onely wish life to serve thee? Suffer no more this dust to overflow And drown my eies, But seal, or pin them to thy skies. And let this grain which here in tears I sow Though dead, and sick, Through thy Increase grow new, and quick.

Rules and Lessons.

WHen first thy Eies unveil, give thy Soul leave To do the like; our Bodies but forerun The spirits duty; True hearts spread, and heave Unto their God, as flow'rs do to the Sun. Give him thy first thoughts then; so shalt thou keep Him company all day, and in him sleep.

Yet, never sleep the Sun up; Prayer shou'd Dawn with the day; There are set, awful hours 'Twixt heaven, and us; The Manna was not good After Sun-rising, far-day sullies flowres. Rise to prevent the Sun; sleep doth sins glut, And heav'ns gate opens, when this world's is shut.

Walk with thy fellow-creatures: note the hush And whispers amongst them. There's not a Spring, Or Leafe but hath his Morning-hymn; Each Bush And Oak doth know I AM; canst thou not sing? O leave thy Cares, and follies! go this way And thou art sure to prosper all the day.

Serve God before the world; let him not go Until thou hast a blessing, then resigne The whole unto him; and remember who Prevail'd by wrestling ere the Sun did shine. Poure Oyle upon the stones, weep for thy sin, Then journey on, and have an eie to heav'n.

Mornings are Mysteries; the first worlds Youth, Mans Resurrection, and the futures Bud Shrowd in their births: The Crown of life, light, truth Is stil'd their starre, the stone, and hidden food. Three blessings wait upon them, two of which Should move; They make us holy, happy, rich▪

When the world's up, and ev'ry swarm abroad, Keep thou thy temper, mix not with each Clay; Dispatch necessities, life hath a load Which must be carri'd on, and safely may. Yet keep those cares without thee, let the heart Be Gods alone, and choose the better part.

Through all thy Actions, Counsels, and Discourse, Let Mildness, and Religion guide thee out, If truth be thine, what needs a brutish force? But what's not good, and just ne'r go about. Wrong not thy Conscience for a rotten stick, That gain is dreadful, which makes spirits sick.

To God, thy Countrie, and thy friend be true, If Priest, and People change, keep thou thy ground. Who sels Religion, is a Judas Jew, And, oathes once broke, the soul cannot be sound. The perjurer's a devil let loose: what can Tie up his hands, that dares mock God, and man?

Seek not the same steps with the Crowd; stick thou To thy sure trot; a Constant, humble mind Is both his own Joy, and his Makers too; Let folly dust it on, or lag behind.

A sweet self-privacy in a right soul Out-runs the Earth, and lines the utmost pole.

To all that seek thee, bear an open heart; Make not thy breast a Labyrinth, or Trap; If tryals come, this wil make good thy part, For honesty is safe, come what can hap; It is the good mans feast; The prince of flowres Which thrives in storms, and smels best after showres.

Seal not thy Eyes up from the poor, but give Proportion to their Merits, and thy Purse; Thou mai'st in Rags a mighty Prince relieve Who, when thy sins call for't, can fence a Curse. Thou shalt not lose one mite. Though waters stray, The Bread we cast returns in fraughts one day.

Spend not an hour so, as to weep another, For tears are not thine own; If thou giv'st words Dash not thy friend, nor Heav'n; O smother A vip'rous thought; some Syllables are Swords. Unbitted tongues are in their penance double, They shame their owners, and the hearers trouble.

Injure not modest bloud, whose spirits rise In judgement against Lewdness; that's base wit That voyds but filth, and stench. Hast thou no prize But sickness, or Infection? stiflle it. Who makes his jests of sins, must be at least If not a very devill, worse than a Beast.

Yet, fly no friend, if he be such indeed, But meet to quench his Longings, and thy Thirst; Allow your Joyes Religion; That done, speed And bring the same man back, thou wert all first. Who so returns not, cannot pray aright, But shuts his door, and leaves God out all night.

To highten thy Devotions, and keep low All mutinous thoughts, what busines e'r thou hast Observe God in his works; here fountains flow, Birds sing, Beasts feed, Fish leap, and th'Earth stands fast; Above are restles motions, running Lights, Vast Circling Azure, giddy Clouds, days, nights,

When Seasons change, then lay before thine Eys His wondrous Method; mark the various Scenes In heav'n; Hail, Thunder, Rain-bows, Snow, and Ice, Calmes, Tempests, Light, and darknes by his means; Thou canst not misse his Praise; Each tree, herb, flowre Are shadows of his wisedome, and his Pow'r.

To meales when thou doest come, give him the praise Whose Arm supply'd thee; Take what may suffice, And then be thankful; O admire his ways Who fils the worlds unempty'd granaries! A thankles feeder is a Theif, his feast A very Robbery, and himself no guest.

High-noon thus past, thy time decays; provide Thee other thoughts; Away with friends, and mirth; The Sun now stoops, and hasts his beams to hide Under the dark, and melancholy Earth. All but preludes thy End. Thou art the man Whose Rise, hight, and Descent is but a span.

Yet, set as he doth, and 'tis well. Have all Thy Beams home with thee: trim thy Lamp, buy Oyl, And then set forth; who is thus drest, The Fall Furthers his glory, and gives death the foyl. Man is a Summers day; whose youth, and fire Cool to a glorious Evening, and Expire.

When night comes, list thy deeds; make plain the way 'Twixt Heaven, and thee; block it not with delays, But perfect all before thou sleep'st; Then say Ther's one Sun more strung on my Bead of days.

What's good score up for Joy; The bad wel scann'd Wash off with tears, and get thy Masters hand.

Thy Accounts thus made, spend in the grave one houre Before thy time; Be not a stranger there Where thou may'st sleep whole ages; Lifes poor flowr Lasts not a night sometimes. Bad spirits fear This Coversation; But the good man lyes Intombed many days before he dyes.

Being laid, and drest for sleep, Close not thy Eys Up with thy Curtains; Give thy soul the wing In some good thoughts; So when the day shall rise And thou unrak'st thy fire, those sparks will bring New flames; Besides where these lodge vain heats mourn And die; That Bush where God is, shall not burn.

When thy Nap's over, stir thy fire, unrake In that dead age; one beam i'th' dark outvies Two in the day; Then from the Damps, and Ake Of night shut up thy leaves, be Chast; God prys Through thickest nights; Though then the Sun be far Do thou the works of Day, and rise a Star.

Briefly, Doe as thou would'st be done unto, Love God, and Love thy Neighbour; Watch, and Pray. These are the Words, and Works of life; This do, And live; who doth not thus, hath lost Heav'ns way. O lose it not! look up, wilt Change those Lights For Chains of Darknes, and Eternal Nights?

Corruption.

SUre, It was so. Man in those early days Was not all stone, and Earth, He shin'd a little, and by those weak Rays Had some glimpse of his birth. He saw Heaven o'r his head, and knew from whence He came (condemned,) hither, And, as first Love draws strongest, so from hence His mind sure progress'd thither. Things here were strange unto him: Swet, and till All was a thorn, or weed, Nor did those last, but (like himself,) dyed still As soon as they did Seed, They seem'd to quarrel with him; for that Act That fel him, foyl'd them all, He drew the Curse upon the world, and Crackt The whole frame with his fall. This made him long for home, as loath to stay With murmurers, and foes; He sigh'd for Eden, and would often say Ah! what bright days were those? Nor was Heav'n cold unto him; for each day The vally, or the Mountain Afforded visits, and still Paradise lay In some green shade, or fountain. Angels lay Leiger here; Each Bush, and Cel, Each Oke, and high-way knew them, Walk but the fields, or sit down at some wil, And he was sure to view them. Almighty Love! where art thou now? mad man Sits down, and freezeth on, He raves, and swears to stir nor fire, nor fan, But bids the thread be spun.

I see, thy Curtains are Close-drawn; Thy bow Looks dim too in the Cloud, Sin triumphs still, and man is sunk below The Center, and his shrowd; All's in deep sleep, and night; Thick darknes lyes And hatcheth o'r thy people; But hark! what trumpets that? what Angel cries Arise! Thrust in thy sickle.

H. Scriptures.

WElcome dear book, souls Joy, and food! The feast Of Spirits, Heav'n extracted lyes in thee; Thou art lifes Charter, The Doves spotless neast Where souls are hatch'd unto Eternitie.

In thee the hidden stone, the Manna lies, Thou art the great Elixir, rare, and Choice; The Key that opens to all Mysteries, The Word in Characters, God in the Voice.

O that I had deep Cut in my hard heart Each line in thee! Then would I plead in groans Of my Lords penning, and by sweetest Art Return upon himself the Law, and Stones. Read here, my faults are thine. This Book, and I Will tell thee so; Sweet Saviour thou didst dye!

Unprofitablenes.

HOw rich, O Lord! how fresh thy visits are! 'Twas but Just now my bleak leaves hopeless hung Sullyed with dust and mud; Each snarling blast shot through me, and did share Their Youth, and beauty, Cold showres nipt, and wrung Their spiciness, and bloud; But since thou didst in one sweet glance survey Their sad decays, I flourish, and once more Breath all perfumes, and spice; I smell a dew like Myrrh, and all the day Wear in my bosome a full Sun; such store Hath one beame from thy Eys. But, ah, my God! what fruit hast thou of this? What one poor leaf did ever I yet fall To wait upon thy wreath? Thus thou all day a thankless weed doest dress, And when th' hast done, a stench, or fog is all The odour I bequeath.

CHRISTS Nativity.

AWake, glad heart! get up, and Sing, It is the Birth-day of thy King, Awake! awake! The Sun doth shake Light from his locks, and all the way Breathing Perfumes, doth spice the day.

2.

Awak, awak! heark, how th' wood rings, Winds whisper, and the busie springs A Consort make; A wake, awake! Man is their high-priest, and should rise To offer up the sacrifice.

3.

I would I were some Bird, or Star, Flutt'ring in woods, or lifted far Above this Inne And Rode of sin! Then either Star, or Bird, should be Shining, or singing still to thee.

4.

I would I had in my best part Fit Roomes for thee! or that my heart Were so clean as Thy manger was! But I am all filth, and obscene, Yet, if thou wilt, thou canst make clean.

5.

Sweet Jesu! will then; Let no more This Leper haunt, and soyl thy door, Cure him, Ease him O release him! And let once more by mystick birth The Lord of life be borne in Earth.

II.

HOw kind is heav'n to man! If here One sinner doth amend Strait there is Joy, and ev'ry sphere In musick doth Contend; And shall we then no voices lift? Are mercy, and salvation Not worth our thanks? Is life a gift Of no more acceptation? Shal he that did come down from thence, And here for us was slain, Shal he be now cast off? no sense Of all his woes remain? Can neither Love, nor suff'rings bind? Are we all stone, and Earth? Neither his bloudy passions mind, Nor one day blesse his birth? Alas, my God! Thy birth now here Must not be numbred in the year.

The Check.

PEace, peace! I blush to hear thee; when thou art A dusty story A speechlesse heap, and in the midst my heart In the same livery drest Lyes tame as all the rest; When six years thence digg'd up, some youthfull Eie Seeks there for Symmetry But finding none, shal leave thee to the wind, Or the next foot to Crush, Scatt'ring thy kind And humble dust, tell then dear flesh Where is thy glory?

2.

As he that in the midst of day Expects The hideous night, Sleeps not, but shaking off sloth, and neglects, Works with the Sun, and sets Paying the day its debts; That (for Repose, and darknes bound,) he might Rest from the fears i'th' night; So should we too. All things teach us to die And point us out the way While we passe by And mind it not; play not away Thy glimpse of light.

3.

View thy fore-runners: Creatures giv'n to be Thy youths Companions, Take their leave, and die; Birds, beasts, each tree All that have growth, or breath Have one large language, Death. O then play not! but strive to him, who Can Make these sad shades pure Sun, Turning their mists to beams, their damps to day, Whose pow'r doth so excell As to make Clay A spirit, and true glory dwell In dust, and stones.

4.

Heark, how he doth Invite thee! with what voice Of Love, and sorrow He begs, and Calls; O that in these thy days Thou knew'st but thy own good! Shall not the Crys of bloud, Of Gods own bloud awake thet? He bids beware Of drunknes, surfeits, Care, But thou sleep'st on; wher's now thy protestation, Thy Lines, thy Love? Away, Redeem the day, The day that gives no observation, Perhaps to morrow.

Disorder and frailty.

WHen first thou didst even from the grave And womb of darknes becken out My brutish soul, and to thy slave Becam'st thy self, both guide, and Scout; Even from that hour Thou gotst my heart; And though here tost By winds, and bit with frost I pine, and shrink Breaking the link 'Twixt thee, and me; And oftimes creep Into th' old silence, and dead sleep, Quitting thy way All the long day, Yet, sure, my God! I love thee most. Alas, thy love!

2.

I threaten heaven, and from my Cell Of Clay, and frailty break, and bud Touch'd by thy fire, and breath; Thy bloud Too, is my Dew, and springing wel. But while I grow And stretch to thee, ayming at all Thy stars, and spangled hall, Each fly doth tast Poyson, and blast My yielding leaves; sometimes a showr Beats them quite off, and in an hour Not one poor shoot But the bare root Hid under ground survives the fall. Alas, frail weed!

3.

Thus like some sleeping Exhalation (Which wak'd by heat, and beams, makes up Unto that Comforter, the Sun, And soars, and shines; But e'r we sup And walk two steps Cool'd by the damps of night, descends, And, whence it sprung, there ends,) Doth my weak fire Pine, and retire, And (after all my hight of flames,) In sickly Expirations tames Leaving me dead On my first bed Untill thy Sun again ascends. Poor, falling Star!

4.

O, is! but give wings to my fire, And hatch my soul, untill it fly Up where thou art, amongst thy tire Of Stars, above Infirmity; Let not perverse, And foolish thoughts adde to my Bil Of forward sins, and Kil That seed, which thou In me didst sow, But dresse, and water with thy grace Together with the seed, the place; And for his sake Who died to stake His life for mine, tune to thy will My heart, my verse.

Hosea Cap. 6. ver. 4.

O Ephraim what shall I do unto thee? O Iudah how shall I intreat thee? for thy goodness is as a morning Cloud, and as the early Dew it goeth away.

Idle Verse.

GO, go, queint folies, sugred sin, Shadow no more my door; I will no longer Cobwebs spin, I'm too much on the score.

For since amidst my youth, and night, My great preserver smiles, Wee'l make a Match, my only light, And Joyn against their wiles;

Blind, desp'rate fits, that study how To dresse, and trim our shame, That gild rank poyson, and allow Vice in a fairer name;

The Purles of youthfull bloud, and bowles, Lust in the Robes of Love, The idle talk of feav'rish souls Sick with a scarf, or glove;

Let it suffice my warmer days Simper'd, and shin'd on you, Twist not my Cypresse with your Bays, Or Roses with my Yewgh;

Go, go, seek out some greener thing, It snows, and freezeth here; Let Nightingales attend the spring, Winter is all my year.

Son-dayes.

BRight shadows of true Rest! some shoots of blisse, Heaven once a week; The next worlds gladnes prepossest in this; A day to seek;

Eternity in time; the steps by which We Climb above all ages; Lamps that light Man through his heap of dark days; and the rich, And full redemption of the whole weeks flight.

2.

The Pulleys unto headlong man; times bower; The narrow way; Transplanted Paradise; Gods walking houre; The Cool o'th' day;

The Creatures Jubile; Gods parle with dust; Heaven here; Man on those hills of Myrrh, and flowres Angels descending; the Returns of Trust; A Gleam of glory, after six-days-showres.

3.

The Churches love-feasts; Times Prerogative, And Interest Deducted from the whole; The Combs, and hive, And home of rest.

The milky way Chalkt out with Suns; a Clue That guides through erring hours; and in full story A taste of Heav'n on earth; the pledge, and Cue Of a full feast; And the Out Courts of glory.

Repentance.

LOrd, since thou didst in this vile Clay That sacred Ray Thy spirit plant, quickning the whole With that one grains Infused wealth, My forward flest creept on, and subtly stole Both growth, and power; Checking the health And heat of thine: That little gate And narrow way, by which to thee The Passage is, He term'd a grate And Entrance to Captivitie; Thy laws but nets, where some small birds (And those but seldome too) were caught, Thy Promises but empty words Which none but Children heard, or taught. This I believed: And though a friend Came oft from far, and whisper'd, No; Yet that not sorting to my end I wholy listen'd to my foe. Wherefore, pierc'd through with grief, my sad Seduced soul sighs up to thee, To thee who with true light art Clad And seest all things just as they be. Look from thy throne upon this Rowl Of heavy sins, my high transgressions, Which I Confesse withall my soul, My God, Accept of my Confession. It was last day (Touch'd with the guilt of my own way) I sate alone, and taking up The bitter Cup, Through all thy fair, and various store Sought out what might outvie my score. The blades of grasse, thy Creatures feeding, The trees, their leafs; the flowres, their seeding;

The Dust, of which I am a part, The Stones much softer than my heart, The drops of rain, the sighs of wind, The Stars to which I am stark blind, The Dew thy herbs drink up by night, The beams they warm them at l'th' light, All that have signature or life, I summon'd to decide this strife, And lest I should lack for Arrears, A spring ran by, I told her tears, But when these came unto the scale, My sins alone outweigh'd them all. O my dear God! my life, my love! Most blessed lamb! and mildest dove! Forgive your penitent Offender, And no more his sins remember, Scatter these shades of death, and give Light to my soul, that it may live; Cut me not off for my transgressions, Wilful rebellions, and suppressions, But give them in those streams a part Whose spring is in my Saviours heart. Lord, I confesse the heynous score, And pray, I may do so no more, Though then all sinners I exceed O think on this; Thy Son did bleed; O call to mind his wounds, his woes, His Agony, and bloudy throws; Then look on all that thou hast made, And mark how they do fail, and fade, The heavens themselves, though fair and bright Are dark, and unclean in thy sight, How then, with thee, Can man be holy Who doest thine Angels charge with folly? O what am I, that I should breed Figs on a thorne, flowres on a weed! I am the gourd of sin, and sorrow Growing o'r night, and gone to morrow,

In all this Round of life and death Nothing's more vile than is my breath, Profanenes on my tongue doth rest, Defects, and darknes in my brest, Pollutions all my body wed, And even my soul to thee is dead, Only in him, on whom I feast, Both soul, and body are well drest, His pure perfection quits all score, And fills the Boxes of his poor; He is the Center of long life, and light, I am but finite, He is Infinite. O let thy Justice then in him Confine, And through his merits, make thy mercy mine!

The BURIAL Of an Infant.

BLest Infant Bud, whose Blossome-life Did only look about, and fal, Wearyed out in a harmles strife Of tears, and milk, the food of all;

Sweetly didst thou expire: Thy soul Flew home unstain'd by his new kin, For ere thou knew'st how to be foul, Death wean'd thee from the world, and sin.

Softly rest all thy Virgin-Crums! Lapt in the sweets of thy young breath, Expecting till thy Saviour Comes To dresse them, and unswadle death.

Faith.

BRight, and blest beame! whose strong projection Equall to all, Reacheth as well things of dejection As th' high, and tall; How hath my God by raying thee Inlarg'd his spouse, And of a private familie Made open house? All may be now Co-heirs; no noise Of Bond, or Free Can Interdict us from those Joys That wait on thee, The Law, and Ceremonies made A glorious night, Where Stars, and Clouds, both light, and shade Had equal right; But, as in nature, when the day Breaks, night adjourns, Stars shut up shop, mists pack away, And the Moon mourns; So when the Sun of righteousness Did once appear, That Scene was chang'd, and a new dresse Left for us here; Veiles became useles, Altars fel, Fires smoking die; And all that sacred pomp, and shel Of things did flie; Then did he shine forth, whose sad fall, And bitter fights Were figur'd in those mystical, And Cloudie Rites;

And as i'th' natural Sun, these three, Light, motion, heat, So are now Faith, Hope, Charity Through him Compleat; Faith spans up blisse; what sin, and death Put us quite from, Lest we should run for't out of breath, Faith bring us home; So that I need no more, but say I do believe, And my most loving Lord straitway doth answer, Live.

The Dawning.

AH! what time wilt thou come? when shall that crie The Bridegroome's Comming! fil the sky? Shall it in the Evening run When our words and works are done? Or wil thy all-surprizing light Break at midnight? When either sleep, or some dark pleasure Possesseth mad man without measure; Or shal these early, fragrant hours Unlock thy bowres? And with their blush of light descry Thy locks crown'd with eternitie; Indeed, it is the only time That with thy glory doth best chime, All now are stirring, ev'ry field Ful hymns doth yield, The whole Creation shakes off night, And for thy shadow looks the light, Stars now vanish without number, Sleepie Planets set, and slumber,

The pursie Clouds disband, and scatter, All expect some sudden matter, Not one beam triumphs, but from far That morning-star;

O at what time soever thou (Unknown to us,) the heavens wilt bow, And, with thy Angels in the Van, Descend to Judge poor careless man, Grant, I may not like puddle lie In a Corrupt securitie, Where, if a traveller water crave, He finds it dead, and in a grave; But as this restless, vocall Spring All day, and night doth run, and sing, And though here born, yet is acquainted Elsewhere, and flowing keeps untainted; So let me all my busie age In thy free services ingage, And though (while here) of force I must Have Commerce somtimes with poor dust, And in my flesh, though vile, and low, As this doth in her Channel, flow, Yet let my Course, my aym, my Love, And chief acquaintance be above; So when that day, and hour shal come In which thy self wil be the Sun, Thou'lt find me drest and on my way, Watching the Break of thy great day.

Admission.

HOw shril are silent tears? when sin got head And all my Bowels turn'd To brasse, and iron; when my stock lay dead, And all my powers mourn'd; Then did these drops (for Marble sweats, And Rocks have tears,) As rain here at our windows beats, Chide in thine Ears;

2.

No quiet couldst thou have: nor didst thou wink, And let thy Begger lie, But e'r my eies could overflow their brink Didst to each drop reply; Bowels of Love! at what low rate, And slight a price Dost thou relieve us at thy gate, And stil our Cries?

3.

Wee are thy Infants, and suck thee; If thou But hide, or turn thy face, Because where thou art, yet, we cannot go, We send tears to the place, These find thee out, and though our sins Drove thee away, Yet with thy love that absence wins Us double pay.

4.

O give me then a thankful heart! a heart After thy own, not mine; So after thine, that all, and ev'ry part Of mine, may wait on thine;

O hear! yet not my tears alone, Hear now a floud, A floud that drowns both tears, and grones, My Saviours bloud.

Praise.

KIng of Comforts! King of life! Thou hast cheer'd me, And when fears, and doubts were rife, Thou hast cleer'd me!

Not a nook in all my Breast But thou fill'st it, Not a thought, that breaks my rest, But thou kill'st it;

Wherefore with my utmost strength I wil praise thee, And as thou giv'st line, and length, I wil raise thee;

Day, and night, not once a day I will blesse thee, And my soul in new array I will dresse thee;

Not one minute in the year But I'l mind thee, As my seal, and bracelet here I wil bind thee;

In thy word, as if in heaven I wil rest me, And thy promise 'til made even There shall feast me.

Then, thy sayings all my life They shal please me, And thy bloudy wounds, and strife They wil ease me;

With thy grones my daily breath I will measure, And my life hid in thy death I will treasure.

Though then thou art Past thought of heart All perfect fulness, And canst no whit Accesse admit From dust and dulness;

Yet to thy name (as not the same With thy bright Essence,) Our foul, Clay hands At thy Commands Bring praise, and Incense;

If then, dread Lord, When to thy board Thy wretch comes begging, He hath a flowre Or (to his pow'r,) Some such poor Off'ring;

When thou hast made Thy begger glad, And fill'd his bosome, Let him (though poor,) Strow at thy door That one poor Blossome.

Dressing.

O Thou that lovest a pure, and whitend soul! That feedst among the Lillies, 'till the day Break, and the shadows flee▪ touch with one Coal My frozen heart; and with thy secret key

Open my desolate rooms; my gloomie Brest With thy cleer fire refine, burning to dust These dark Confusions, that within me nest, And soyl thy Temple with a sinful rust.

Thou holy, harmless, undefil'd high-priest! The perfect, ful oblation for all sin, Whose glorious conquest nothing can resist, But even in babes doest triumph still and win;

Give to thy wretched one Thy mysticall Communion, That, absent, he may see, Live, die, and rise with thee; Let him so follow here, that in the end He may take thee, as thou doest him intend.

Give him thy private seal, Earnest, and sign; Thy gifts so deal That these forerunners here May make the future cleer; Whatever thou dost bid, let faith make good, Bread for thy body, and Wine for thy blood. Give him (with pitty) love, Two flowres that grew with thee above; Love that shal not admit Anger for one short fit, And pitty of such a divine extent That may thy members, more than mine, resent.

Give me, my God! thy grace, The beams, and brightnes of thy face, That never like a beast I take thy sacred feast, Or the dread mysteries of thy blest bloud Use, with like Custome, as my Kitchin food▪ Some sit to thee, and eat Thy body as their Common meat, O let not me do so! Poor dust should ly still low, Then kneel my soul, and body; kneel, and bow; If Saints, and Angels fal down, much more thou.

Easter-day.

THou, whose sad heart, and weeping head lyes low, Whose Cloudy brest cold damps invade, Who never feel'st the Sun, nor smooth'st thy brow, But sitt'st oppressed in the shade, Awake, awake, And in his Resurrection partake, Who on this day (that thou might'st rise as he,) Rose up, and cancell'd two deaths due to thee.

Awake, awake; and, like the Sun, disperse All mists that would usurp this day; Where are thy Palmes, thy branches, and thy verse? Hosanna! heark; why doest thou stay? Arise, arise, And with his healing bloud anoint thine Eys, Thy inward Eys; his bloud will cure thy mind, Whose spittle only could restore the blind.

Easter Hymn.

DEath, and darkness get you packing, Nothing now to man is lacking, All your triumphs now are ended, And what Adam marr'd, is mended; Graves are beds now for the weary, Death a nap, to wake more merry; Youth now, full of pious duty, Seeks in thee for perfect beauty, The weak, and aged tir'd, with length Of daies, from thee look for new strength, And Infants with thy pangs Contest As pleasant, as if with the brest; Then, unto him, who thus hath thrown Even to Contempt thy kingdome down, And by his blood did us advance Unto his own Inheritance, To him be glory, power, praise, From this, unto the last of daies.

The Holy Communion.

WElcome sweet, and sacred feast; welcome life! Dead I was, and deep in trouble; But grace, and blessings came with thee so rife, That they have quicken'd even drie stubble; Thus soules their bodies animate, And thus, at first, when things were rude, Dark, void, and Crude They, by thy Word, their beauty had, and date; All were by thee, And stil must be,

Nothing that is, or lives, But hath his Quicknings, and reprieves As thy hand opes, or shuts; Healings, and Cuts, Darkness, and day-light, life, and death Are but meer leaves turn'd by thy breath. Spirits without thee die, And blackness sits On the divinest wits, As on the Sun Ecclipses lie. But that great darkness at thy death When the veyl broke with thy last breath, Did make us see The way to thee; And now by these sure, sacred ties, After thy blood (Our sov'rain good,) Had clear'd our eies, And given us sight; Thou dost unto thy self betroth Our souls, and bodies both In everlasting light.

Was't not enough that thou hadst payd the price And given us eies When we had none, but thou must also take Us by the hand And keep us still awake, When we would sleep, Or from thee creep, Who without thee cannot stand?

Was't not enough to lose thy breath And blood by an accursed death, But thou must also leave To us that did bereave Thee of them both, these seals the means That should both cleanse

And keep us so, Who wrought thy wo? O rose of Sharon! O the Lilly Of the valley! How art thou now, thy flock to keep, Become both food, and Shepheard to thy sheep!

Psalm 121.

UP to those bright, and gladsome hils Whence flowes my weal, and mirth, I look, and sigh for him, who fils (Unseen,) both heaven, and earth.

He is alone my help, and hope, that I shall not be moved, His watchful Eye is ever ope, And guardeth his beloved;

The glorious God is my sole stay, He is my Sun, and shade, The cold by night, the heat by day, Neither shall me invade.

He keeps me from the spite of foes, Doth all their plots controul, And is a shield (not reckoning those,) Unto my very soul.

Whether abroad, amidst the Crowd, Or els within my door, He is my Pillar, and my Cloud, Now, and for evermore.

Affliction.

PEace, peace; It is not so. Thou doest miscall Thy Physick; Pils that change Thy sick Accessions into setled health, This is the great Elixir that turns gall To wine, and sweetness; Poverty to wealth, And brings man home, when he doth range. Did not he, who ordain'd the day, Ordain night too? And in the greater world display What in the lesser he would do? All flesh is Clay, thou know'st; and but that God Doth use his rod, And by a fruitfull Change of frosts, and showres Cherish, and bind thy pow'rs, Thou wouldst to weeds, and thistles quite disperse, And be more wild than is thy verse; Sickness is wholsome, and Crosses are but curbs To check the mule, unruly man, They are heavens husbandry, the famous fan Purging the floor which Chaff disturbs. Were all the year one constant Sun-shine, wee should have no flowres, All would be drought, and leanness; not a tree would make us bowres; Beauty consists in colours; and that's best Which is not fixt, but flies, and flowes The settled Red is dull, and whites that rest Something of sickness would disclose. Vicissitude plaies all the game, nothing that stirrs, Or hath a name, But waits upon this wheel, Kingdomes too have their Physick, and for steel, Exchange their peace, and furrs.

Thus doth God Key disorder'd man (which none else can,) Tuning his brest to rise, or fall; And by a sacred, needfull art Like strings, stretch ev'ry part Making the whole most Musicall.

The Tempest.

HOw is man parcell'd out? how ev'ry hour Shews him himself, or somthing he should see? This late, long hea•• may his Instruction be, And tempests have more in them than a showr.

When nature on her bosome saw Her Infants die, And all her flowres wither'd to straw, Her brests grown dry; She made the Earth their nurse, & tomb, Sigh to the sky, 'Til to those sighes fetch'd from her womb Rain did reply, So in the midst of all her scars And faint requests Her Earnest sighes procur'd her tears And fill'd her brests.

O that man could do so! that he would hear The world read to him! all the vast expence In the Creation shed, and slav'd to sence Makes up but lectures for his eie, and ear.

Sure, mighty love foreseeing the discent Of this poor Creature, by a gracious art Hid in these low things snares to gain his heart, And layd surprizes in each Element.

All things here shew him heaven; waters that fall Chide, and fly up; Mists of corruptest some Quit their first beds & mount; trees, herbs, flowres, all Strive upwards stil, and point him the way home.

How do they cast off grossness? only Earth, And Man (like Issachar) in lodes delight, Water's refin'd to Motion, Aire to Light, Fire to all * 1.6 three, but man hath no such mirth.

Plants in the root with Earth do most Comply, Their Leafs with water, and humiditie, The Flowres to air draw neer, and subtiltie, And seeds a kinred fire have with the sky.

All have their keyes, and set ascents; but man Though he knows these, and hath more of his own, Sleeps at the ladders foot; alas! what can These new discoveries do, except they drown?

Thus groveling in the shade, and darkness, he Sinks to a dead oblivion; and though all He sees, (like Pyramids,) shoot from this ball And less'ning still grow up invisibly,

Yet hugs he stil his durt; The stuffe he wears And painted trimming take down both his eies, Heaven hath less beauty than the dust he spies, And money better musick than the Spheres.

Life's but a blast, he knows it; what? shal straw, And bul-rush-fetters temper his short hour? Must he nor sip, nor sing? grows ne'r a flowr To crown his temples? shal dreams be his law?

O foolish man! how hast thou lost thy sight? How is it that the Sun to thee alone Is grown thick darkness, and thy bread, a stone? Hath flesh no softness now? mid-day no light?

Lord! thou didst put a soul here; If I must Be broke again, for flints will give no fire Without a steel, O let thy power cleer Thy gift once more, and grind this flint to dust!

Retirement.

WHo on yon throne of Azure sits, Keeping close house Above the morning-starre, Whose meaner showes, And outward utensils these glories are That shine and share Part of his mansion; He one day When I went quite astray Out of meer love By his mild Dove Did shew me home, and put me in the way.

2.

Let it suffice at length thy fits And lusts (said he,) Have had their wish, and way; Presse not to be Still thy own foe, and mine; for to this day I did delay, And would not see, but chose to wink, Nay, at the very brink And edge of all When thou wouldst fall My love-twist held thee up, my unseen link.

3.

I know thee well; for I have fram'd And hate thee not, Thy spirit too is mine; I know thy lot, Extent, and end, for my hands drew the line Assigned thine; If then thou would'st unto my seat, 'Tis not th'applause, and feat Of dust, and clay Leads to that way, But from those follies a resolv'd Retreat.

4.

Now here below where yet untam'd Thou doest thus rove I have a house as well As there above, In it my Name, and honour both do dwell And shall untill I make all new; there nothing gay In perfumes, or Array, Dust lies with dust And hath but just The same Respect, and room, with ev'ry clay.

5.

A faithful school where thou maist see In Heraldrie Of stones, and speechless Earth Thy true descent; Where dead men preach, who can turn feasts, and mirth To funerals, and Lent. There dust that out of doors might fill Thy eies, and blind thee still, Is fast asleep; Up then, and keep Within those doors, (my doors) dost hear? I will.

Love, and Discipline.

SInce in a land not barren stil (Because thou dost thy grace distil,) My lott is faln, Blest be thy will!

And since these biting frosts but kil Some tares in me which choke, or spil That seed thou sow'st, Blest be thy skil!

Blest be thy Dew, and blest thy frost, And happy I to be so crost, And cur'd by Crosses at thy cost.

The Dew doth Cheer what is distrest, The frosts ill weeds nip, and molest, In both thou work'st unto the best.

Thus while thy sev'ral mercies plot, And work on me now cold, now hot, The work goes on, and slacketh not,

For as thy hand the weather steers, So thrive I best, 'twixt joyes, and tears, And all the year have some grean Ears.

The Pilgrimage.

AS travellours when the twilight's come, And in the sky the stars appear, The past daies accidents do summe With, Thus wee saw there, and thus here.

Then Jacob-like lodge in a place (A place, and no more, is set down,) Where till the day restore the race They rest and dream homes of their own.

So for this night I linger here, And full of tossings too and fro, Expect stil when thou wilt appear That I may get me up, and go.

I long, and grone, and grieve for thee, For thee my words, my tears do gush, O that I were but where I see! Is all the note within my Bush.

As Birds rob'd of their native wood, Although their Diet may be fine, Yet neither sing, nor like their food, But with the thought of home do pine;

So do I mourn, and hang my head, And though thou dost me fullnes give, Yet look I for far better bread Because by this man cannot live.

O feed me then! and since I may Have yet more days, more nights to Count, So strengthen me, Lord, all the way, That I may travel to thy Mount.

Heb. Cap. xi. ver. 13.

And they Confessed, thus they were strangers, and Pilgrims on the earth.

The Law, and the Gospel.

LOrd, when thou didst on Sinai pitch And shine from Paran, when a firie Law Pronounc'd with thunder, and thy threats did thaw Thy Peoples hearts, when all thy weeds were rich And Inaccessible for light, Terrour, and might, How did poor flesh (which after thou didst weare,) Then faint, and fear! Thy Chosen flock, like leafs in a high wind, Whisper'd obedience, and their heads Inclin'd.

2.

But now since we to Sion came, And through thy bloud thy glory see, With filial Confidence we touch ev'n thee; And where the other mount all clad in flame, And threatning Clouds would not so much As 'bide the touch, We Climb up this, and have too all the way Thy hand our stay, Nay, thou tak'st ours, and (which ful Comfort brings) Thy Dove too bears us on her sacred wings.

3.

Yet since man is a very brute And after all thy Acts of grace doth kick, Slighting that health thou gav'st, when he was sick, Be not displeas'd, If I, who have a sute To thee each houre, beg at thy door For this one more; O plant in me thy Gospel, and thy Law, Both Faith, and Awe;

So twist them in my heart, that ever there I may as wel as Love, find too thy fear!

4.

Let me not spil, but drink thy bloud, Not break thy fence, and by a black Excess Force down a Just Curse, when thy hands would bless; Let me not scatter, and despise my food, Or nail those blessed limbs again Which bore my pain; So Shall thy mercies flow: for while I fear, I know, thou'lt bear, But should thy mild Injunction nothing move me, I would both think, and Judge I did not love thee.

John Cap. 14. ver. 15.

If ye love me, keep my Commandements.

The World.

I Saw Eternity the other night Like a great Ring of pure and endless light, All calm, as it was bright, And round beneath it, Time in hours, days, years Driv'n by the spheres Like a vast shadow mov'd, In which the world And all her train were hurl'd; The doting Lover in his queintest strain Did their Complain, Neer him, his Lute, his fancy, and his flights, Wits so our delights, With gloves, and knots the silly snares of pleasure Yet his dear Treasure All scatter'd lay, while he his eys did pour Upon a flowr.

2.

The darksome States-man hung with weights and woe Like a thick midnight-fog mov'd there so slow He did nor stay, nor go; Condemning thoughts (like sad Ecclipses) scowl Upon his soul, And Clouds of crying witnesses without Pursued him with one shout. Yet dig'd the Mole, and lest his ways be found Workt under ground, Where he did Clutch his prey, but one did see That policie, Churches and altars fed him, Perjuries Were gnats and flies, It rain'd about him bloud and tears, but he Drank them as free.

3.

The fearfull miser on a heap of rust Sate pining all his life there, did scarce trust His own hands with the dust, Yet would not place one peece above, but lives In feare of theeves. Thousands there were as frantick as himself And hug 'd each one his pelf, The down-right Epicure plac'd heav'n in sense And scornd pretence While others slipt into a wide Excesse Said little lesse; The weaker sort slight, triviall wares Inslave Who think them brave, And poor, despised truth sate Counting by Their victory.

4.

Yet some, who all this while did weep and sing, And sing, and weep, soar'd up into the Ring, But most would use no wing. O fools (said I,) thus to prefer dark night Before true light, To live in grots, and caves, and hate the day Because it shews the way, The way which from this dead and dark abode Leads up to God, A way where you might tread the Sun, and be More bright than he. But as I did their madnes so discusse One whisper'd thus, This Ring the Bride-groome did for none provide But for his bride.

John Cap. 2. ver. 16, 17.

All that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, the lust of the Eys, and the pride of life, is not of the father, but is of the world.

And the world passeth away, and the lusts thereof, but he that doth the will of God abideth for ever.

The Mutinie.

WEary of this same Clay, and straw, I laid Me down to breath, and casting in my heart The after-burthens, and griefs yet to come, The heavy sum So shook my brest, that (sick and sore dismai'd) My thoughts, like water which some stone doth start

Did quit their troubled Channel, and retire Unto the banks, where▪ storming at those bounds, They murmur'd sore; But I, who felt them boyl And knew their Coyl, Turning to him, who made poor sand to tire And tame proud waves, If yet these barren grounds And thirstie brick must be (said I) My taske, and Destinie,

2.

Let me so strive and struggle with thy foes (Not thine alone, but mine too,) that when all Their Arts and force are built unto the height That Babel-weight May prove thy glory, and their shame; so Close And knit me to thee, That though in this vale Of sin, and death I sojourn, yet one Eie May look to thee, To thee the finisher And Author of my faith; so shew me home That all this fome And frothie noise which up and down doth flie May find no lodging in mine Eie, or Eare, O seal them up! that these may flie Like other tempests by.

3.

Not but I know thou hast a shorter Cut To bring me home, than through a wildernes, A Sea, or Sands and Serpents; Yet since thou (As thy words show) Though in this desart I were wholy shut, Canst light and lead me there with such redress That no decay shal touch me; O be pleas'd To fix my steps, and whatsoever path Thy sacred and eternal wil decreed For thy bruis'd reed

O give it ful obedience, that so seiz'd Of all I have, I may nor move thy wrath Nor grieve thy Dove, but soft and mild Both live and die thy Child.

Revel. Cap. 2. ver. 17.

To him that overcometh wil I give to eate of the hidden Manna, and I wil give him a white stone, and in the stone a new name written, which no man knoweth, saving he that receiveth it.

The Constellation.

FAir, order'd lights (whose motion without noise Resembles those true Joys Whose spring is on that hil where you do grow And we here tast sometimes below,)

With what exact obedience do you move Now beneath, and now above, And in your vast progressions overlook The darkest night, and closest nook!

Some nights I see you in the gladsome East, Some others neer the West, And when I cannot see, yet do you shine And beat about your endles line.

Silence, and light, and watchfulnes with you Attend and wind the Clue, No sleep, nor sloth assailes you, but poor man Still either sleeps, or slips his span.

He grops beneath here, and with restless Care First makes, then hugs a snare, Adores dead dust, sets heart on Corne and grass But seldom doth make heav'n his glass.

Musick and mirth (if there be musick here) Take up, and tune his year, These things are Kin to him, and must be had, Who kneels, or sighs a life is mad.

Perhaps some nights hee'l watch with you, and peep When it were best to sleep, Dares know Effects, and Judge them long before, When th' herb he treads knows much, much more.

But seeks he your Obedience, Order, Light, Your calm and wel-train'd flight, Where, though the glory differ in each star, Yet is there peace still, and no war?

Since plac'd by him who calls you by your names And fixt there all your flames, Without Command you never acted ought And then you in your Courses fought.

But here Commission'd by a black self-wil The sons the father kil, The Children Chase the mother, and would heal The wounds they give, by crying, zeale.

Then Cast her bloud, and tears upon thy book Where they for fashion look, And like that Lamb which had the Dragons voice Seem mild, but are known by their noise.

Thus by our lusts disorder'd into wars Our guides prove wandring stars, Which for these mists, and black days were reserv'd, What time we from our first love swerv'd.

Yet O for his sake who sits now by thee All crown'd with victory,

So guide us through this Darknes, that we may Be more and more in love with day;

Settle, and fix our hearts, that we may move In order, peace, and love, And taught obedience by thy whole Creation, Become an humble, holy nation.

Give to thy spouse her perfect, and pure dress, Beauty and holiness, And so repair these Rents, that men may see And say, Where God is, all agree.

The Shepheards.

SWeet, harmles lives! (on whose holy leisure Waits Innocence and pleasure;) Whose leaders to those pastures, and cleer springs, Were Patriarchs, Saints, and Kings, How happend it that in the dead of night You only saw true light, While Palestine was fast a sleep, and lay Without one thought of Day? Was it because those first and blessed swains Were pilgrims on those plains When they receiv'd the promise, for which now 'I was there first shown to you? 'Tis true, he loves that Dust whereon they go That serve him here below, And therefore might for memory of those His love there first disclose; But wretched Salem once his love, must now No voice, nor vision know,

Her stately Piles with all their height and pride Now languished and died, And Bethlems humble Cotts above them stept While all her Seers slept; Her Cedar, firr, hew'd stones and gold were all Polluted through their fall, And those once sacred mansions were now Meer emptiness and show, This made the Angel call at reeds and thatch, Yet where the shepheards watch, And Gods own lodging (though he could not lack,) To be a common Rack; No costly pride, no soft-cloath'd luxurie In those thin Cels could lie, Each stirring wind and storm blew through their Cots Which never harbour'd plots, Only Content, and love, and humble joys Lived there without all noise, Perhaps some harmless Cares for the next day Did in their bosomes play, As where to lead their sheep, what silent nook, What springs or shades to look, But that was all; And now with gladsome care They for the town prepare, They leave their flock, and in a busie talk All towards Bethlem walk To see their souls great shepheard, who was come To bring all straglers home, Where now they find him out, and taught before That Lamb of God adore, That Lamb whose daies great Kings and Prophets wish'd And long'd to see, but miss'd. The first light they beheld was bright and gay And turn'd their night to day, But to this later light they saw in him, Their day was dark, and dim.

Misery.

LOrd, bind me up, and let me lye A Pris'ner to my libertie, If such a state at all can be As an Impris'ment serving thee; The wind, though gather'd in thy fist, Yet doth it blow stil where it list, And yet shouldst thou let go thy hold Those gusts might quarrel and grow bold. As waters here, headlong and loose The lower grounds stil chase, and choose, Where spreading all the way they seek And search out ev'ry hole, and Creek; So my spilt thoughts winding from thee Take the down-rode to vanitie, Where they all stray and strive, which shal Find out the first and steepest fal; I cheer their flow, giving supply To what's already grown too high, And having thus perform'd that part Feed on those vomits of my heart. I break the fence my own hands made Then lay that trespasse in the shade, Some fig-leafs stil I do devise As if thou hadst nor ears, nor Eyes. Excesse of friends, of words, and wine Take up my day, while thou dost shine All unregarded, and thy book Hath not so much as one poor look. If thou steal in amidst the mirth And kindly tel me, I am Earth, I shut thee out, and let that slip, Such Musick spoils good fellowship.

Thus wretched I, and most unkind, Exclude my dear God from my mind, Exclude him thence, who of that Cel Would make a Court, should he there dwel. He goes, he yields; And troubled sore His holy spirit grieves therefore, The mighty God, th' eternal King Doth grieve for Dust, and Dust doth sing. But I go on, haste to Devest My self of reason, till opprest And buried in my surfeits I Prove my own shame and miserie. Next day I call and cry for thee Who shouldst not then come neer to me, But now it is thy servants pleasure Thou must (and dost) give him his measure. Thou dost, thou com'st, and in a showr Of healing sweets thy self dost powr Into my wounds, and now thy grace (I know it wel,) fils all the place; I sit with thee by this new light, And for that hour th'art my delight, No man can more the world despise Or thy great mercies better prize. I School my Eys, and strictly dwel Within the Circle of my Cel That Calm and silence are my Joys Which to thy peace are but meer noise. At length I feel my head to ake, My fingers Itch, and burn to take Some new Imployment, I begin To swel and fome and fret within. " The Age, the present times are not " To snudge in, and embrace a Cot, " Action and bloud now get the game, " Disdein treads on the peaceful name,

" who sits at home too bears a loade " Greater than those that gad abroad. Thus do I make thy gifts giv'n me The only quarrellers with thee, I'd loose those knots thy hands did tie, Then would go travel, fight or die. Thousands of wild and waste Infusions Like waves beat on my resolutions, As flames about their fuel run And work, and wind til all be done, So my fierce soul bustles about And never rests til all be out. Thus wilded by a peevish heart Which in thy musick bears no part I storm at thee, calling my peace A Lethargy, and meer disease, Nay, those bright beams shot from the eys To calm me in these mutinies I stile meer tempers, which take place At some set times, but are thy grace. Such is mans life, and such is mine The worst of men, and yet stil thine, Stil thine thou know'st, and if not so Then give me over to my foe. Yet since as easie 'tis for thee To make man good, as bid him be, And with one glaunce (could he that gain,) To look him out of all his pain, O send me from thy holy hil So much of strength, as may fulfil All thy delight (what e'r they be) And sacred Institutes in me; Open my rockie heart, and fil It with obedience to thy wil, Then seal it up, that as none see, So none may enter there but thee.

O hear my God! hear him, whose bloud Speaks more and better for my good! O let my Crie come to thy throne! My crie not pour'd with tears alone, (For tears alone are often foul) But with the bloud of all my soul, With spirit-sighs, and earnest grones, Faithful and most repenting mones, With these I crie, and crying pine Till thou both mend and make me thine.

The Sap.

COme sapless Blossom, creep not stil on Earth Forgetting thy first birth; 'Tis not from dust, or if so, why dost thou Thus cal and thirst for dew? It tends not thither, if it doth, why then This growth and stretch for heav'n? Thy root sucks but diseases, worms there seat And claim it for their meat. Who plac'd thee here, did something then Infuse Which now can tel thee news. There is beyond the Stars an hil of myrrh From which some drops fal here, On it the Prince of Salem sits, who deals To thee thy secret meals, There is thy Country, and he is the way And hath withal the key. Yet liv'd he here sometimes, and bore for thee A world of miserie, For thee, who in the first mans loyns didst fal From that hil to this vale,

And had not he so done, it is most true Two deaths had bin thy due; But going hence, and knowing wel what woes Might his friends discompose, To shew what strange love he had to our good He gave his sacred bloud By wil our sap, and Cordial; now in this Lies such a heav'n of bliss, That, who but truly tasts it, no decay Can touch him any way, Such secret life, and vertue in it lies It wil exalt and rise And actuate such spirits as are shed Or ready to be dead, And bring new too. Get then this sap, and get Good store of it, but let The vessel where you put it be for sure To all your pow'r most pure; There is at all times (though shut up) in you A powerful, rare dew, Which only grief and love extract; with this Be sure, and never miss, To wash your vessel wel: Then humbly take This balm for souls that ake, And one who drank it thus, assures that you Shal find a Joy so true, Such perfect Ease, and such a lively sense Of grace against all sins, That you'l Confess the Comfort such, as even Brings to, and comes from Heaven.

Mount of Olives.

WHen first I saw true beauty, and thy Joys Active as light, and calm without all noise Shin'd on my soul, I felt through all my powr's Such a rich air of sweets, as Evening showrs Fand by a gentle gale Convey and breath On some parch'd bank, crown'd with a flowrie wreath; Odors, and Myrth, and balm in one rich floud O'r-ran my heart, and spirited my bloud, My thoughts did swim in Comforts, and mine eie Confest, The world did only paint and lie. And where before I did no safe Course steer But wander'd under tempests all the year, Went bleak and bare in body as in mind, And was blow'n through by ev'ry storm and wind, I am so warm'd now by this glance on me, That, midst all storms I feel a Ray of thee; So have I known some beauteous Paisage rise In suddain flowres and arbours to my Eies, And in the depth and dead of winter bring To my Cold thoughts a lively sense of spring. Thus fed by thee, who dost all beings nourish, My wither'd leafs again look green and flourish, I shine and shelter underneath thy wing Where sick with love▪ strive thy name to sing, Thy glorious name! which grant I may so do That these may be thy Praise, and my Joy too.

Man.

WEighing the stedfastness and state Of some mean things which here below reside, Where birds like watchful Clocks the noiseless date And Intercourse of times divide, Where Bees at night get home and hive, and flowrs Early, aswel as late, Rise with the Sun, and set in the same bowr••;

2.

I would (said I) my God would give The staidness of these things to man! for these To his divine appointments ever cleave, And no new business breaks their peace; The birds nor sow, nor reap, yet sup and dine, The flowres without clothes live, Yet Solomon was never drest so fine.

3.

Man hath stil either toyes, or Care, He hath no root, nor to one place is ty'd, But ever restless and Irregular About this Earth doth run and ride, He knows he hath a home, but scarce knows where, He sayes it is so far That he hath quite forgot how to go there.

4.

He knocks at all doors, strays and roams, Nay hath not so much wit as some stones have Which in the darkest nights point to their homes, By some hid sense their Maker gave; Man is the shuttle, to whose winding quest And passage through these looms God order'd motion, but ordain'd no rest.

¶

I Walkt the other day (to spend my hour,) Into a field Where I sometimes had seen the soil to yield A gallant flowre, But Winter now had ruffled all the bowre And curious store I knew there heretofore.

2.

Yet I whose search lov'd not to peep and peer I'th' sace of things Thought with my self, there might be other springs Besides this here Which, like cold friends, sees us but once a year, And so the flowre Might have some other bowre.

3.

Then taking up what I could neerest spie I digg'd about That place where I had seen him to grow out, And by and by I saw the warm Recluse alone to lie Where fresh and green He lived of us unseen.

4.

Many a question Intricate and rare Did I there strow, But all I could extort was, that he now Did there repair Such losses as befel him in this air And would e'r long Come forth most fair and young▪

5.

This past, I threw the Clothes quite o'r his head, And stung with fear Of my own frailty dropt down many a tear upon his bed, Then sighing whisper'd, Happy are the dead! What peace doth now Rock him asleep below?

6.

And yet, how few believe such doctrine springs From a poor root Which all the Winter sleeps here under foot And hath no wings To raise it to the truth and light of things, But is stil trod By ev'ry wandring clod.

7.

O thou! whose spirit did at first inflame And warm the dead, And by a sacred Incubation fed With life this frame Which once had neither being, forme, nor name, Grant I may so Thy steps track here below,

8.

That in these Masques and shadows I may see Thy sacred way, And by those hid ascents climb to that day Which breaks from thee Who art in all things, though invisibly; Shew me thy peace, Thy mercy, love, and ease,

9.

And from this Care, where dreams and sorrows raign Lead me above Where Light, Joy, Leisure, and true Comforts move Without all pain, There, hid in thee, shew me his life again At whose dumbe urn Thus all the year I mourn.

Begging.

KIng of Mercy, King of Love, In whom I live, in whom I move, Perfect what thou hast begun, Let no night put out this Sun; Grant I may, my chief desire! Long for thee, to thee aspire, Let my youth, my bloom of dayes Be my Comfort, and thy praise, That hereafter, when I look O'r the sullyed, sinful book, I may find thy hand therein Wiping out my shame, and sin. O it is thy only Art To reduce a stubborn heart, And since thine is victorie, Strong holds should belong to thee;

Lord then take it, leave it not Unto my dispose or lot, But since I would not have it mine, O my God, let it be thine!

Jude ver. 24, 25. Now unto him that is able to keep us from falling, and to present us faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy, To the only wise God, our Saviour, be glory, and majesty, Dominion and power, now and ever, Amen.

FINIS.

Notes

• * 1.1

  A wel in the South Country where Ja∣cob dwelt, betweene Cadesh, & Bered; Heb. the wel of him that liveth, and seeth me.
• * 1.2

  Body.
• * 1.3

  Soul.
• * 1.4

  Body.
• * 1.5

  Soul.
• * 1.6

  Light, Motion, heat.