Diuine epistles. Dedicated. to right honble. & worthy guests inuited to ye nuptialls of the great Kings sonne. &c By Augustin. Taylor. preacher at Hawarden.

THE ARGVMENT.

Isr'els infirmitte's confess'd, Her gratitude's proclaim'd, The bounties of her Lord's express'd, And her best loue's explain'd.

MY Lord I know thou knowes before I speake, What I would vtter: since I'm wondrous weake And of my selfe deficient teach thou mee To publish pious pleasant harmonie, Such as thou wilt vouchsafe to heare that, when My pensiue soule with miseries of men Is guarded round, my voyce to thee may come, And find some grace to helpe the gracelesse sonne, To helpe my sinnefull sorrowfull soule, in time Let the bright sunne, of mercy freely shine Vpon my guiltinesse, that thy bride may, Be white as innocence, and as bright as day: For all thy blessings, though I be but poore, Yet both of praise and thankes I haue such store, As shall record me debtor vnto thee, In songs and himnes to all posteritie: I must confesse, but cannot pay thee due, For my redemption, that thou pleas'd to view

My state so poore with mercies eyes so pure, My soule reioy ceth, and I'm very sure, The price of my redemption's payd so well, Sinne hath no strength, death hath no sting, and hell Hath now no victory: I am not so Blinded with ignorance, but that I know, My selfe both as I am and as I was; As different as the Dyamond from glasse, So is my former, from my latter state, Thou didst repaire what I did ruinate, From gyues and fetters thou hast loosed mee, To tread the pathes of life, and liberty; From hellish endlesse sorrowes thou hast quit, My captiu'd soule out of the lowest pit: Euen as a Lilly ouer-growne with thornes, That is not benific'd by the springing mornes, Vntill the carefull husband doe deuise, To rid the thornes, to helpe the Lilly t'rise; So 'twas with me, my soule suppress'd with sinne, Knew nought but sorrow, till thou did beginne,

To vndergoe my burthen, and since then, I haue found grace with God, and peace with men: For this great freedome, and for all my blis, In esse and in posse I'ue but this Towards recompence, my gratitude's my store; Thankes, 'tis a proper payment for the poore. And yet I'm bound for greater fauours such, For which I cannot manifest so much, Affection as they challenge, therefore still Lord when my action failes, regard my will. Since it did please thee to make me thy bride, It seemes thou pleas'd I should be sanctifide, For that I'm now reformed like to thee, In hollinesse and perfect puritie, And that so inwardly and outward faire, Thou hast made me that I'm without compare; And since my spots and wrinckles are disolu'd, And that in holy white, I'm now inuolu'd, It resteth that I sacrifice my best, And what I offer's but the interest

Of what I owe: I'll thanke thee whil'st I liue, And Lord thou knowes I haue no more to giue; But I'm for more, farre more indebt, yet trust Since thou wilt iustifie me (so vniust) Thou wilt regard my nothing, nothing breedes, "He that possesseth all things nothing needes, That thou accepts my faith for righteonsnesse I can no more do, and I will no lesse, In words and actions then shew thankfulnesse: Since it hath pleas'd thy greatnesse to admit, My poore defectiue impotence, (vnfit) To be a bride for thee, I'll hence forth striue, T'extinguish all my illnesse, and depriue Those vices of their lodgings that haue beene, My welcome guests before I was thy Queene; What I haue beene, I'll cease to be, and frame My selfe to beare the beauty of thy name: True modesty, and loyalty shall rest, To waite vpon thy spirit in my brest: Assist me with thy grace, and thou shall see, All th'ornaments proper for Maiestie,

Prepared for thy seruice, I confesse Thou might'st haue had thy spouse' mongst princesses Of greater honor, and of nobler race I know poore Ruth (my grandame) had no place Whereinto rest, but by permission; yet Because she's faire, and lowly Boaz will let Her gleane amongst his reapers, and withall Strictly commands his seruants that they shall Not offer once to blame her, tels her rather It is his pleasure, that she stay and gather In his, then goe t'an other field, and thus Changes small fauours, into Maximus: And at the last, this fruite his loue doth yeild, Takes her and makes her mistris of the field: Sure she was faire, being honor'd with such store, That lookt so louely, when she was so poore, Euen such was I a Ruth, on whom no Ruth, The word bestow'd, vntill the word of truth Came to suruey his vineyard, and gaue mee, Commission to worke there, and liberty, To claime a sacred peny? and in th'end Supposing that the office of a friend,

Was not grace great enough, he chooseth rather, To manifest th'affection of a father, And builds againe of a poore wretch (vndone) A blessed bride, for his eternall sonne: My Lord I do not vtter this to thee, For thou art sensible, of my miserie, I tell the neighbouring nations; least they ghesse, I'm prone to ill, but too proud to confesse: I know my faults, and betweene griefes and feares, My body's like a barke, that sayles in teares, Made to transport (thy choyce) the soule from th'earth, Towards the faire land of euer-lasting mirth; And on these seas of sorrowes Lord vouchsafe, To be my Pylate, and conduct me safe, Vnto the shoares of peace, and thou shall see, My loue so beautifi'd with constancie, That thou 'll be pleas'd to say, I do approue, The price of life is payd, with coyne of loue. Great Prince I'm very poore, infirme and weake, Disable (without thee) to thinke or speake, The smallest good: therefore I'll still intreate, That as my dignity thou didst create,

Thou would'st maintaine it, though the cause be mine, Thou knowes it honors thee to honor thine, As the Kings honor's made of subiects duties, So are thy glories made of thy Queenes beauties: I take it, such are thine, no I mistake, Thine are thy owne, since thou didst please to make Me free t'inioy them, when I thee adore, I but repay what I receiu'd before: Since by thy bounties I in plenties liue, Giue thou me more, and more, that I may giue To others, that to all it may be seene, Of beauty, and bounty, th'ast compos'd thy Queene, With hands that neuer err'd, blest with the senses Of plenty, the meet'st mettle to make Princes: Lord lend me all thy graces, till I rise From earrh to glory in thy Paradise; In the meane time accept my sacrifice, Which Baptist-like, I send (before) aboue, "My soule flyes after, with the wings of loue.

FINIS.