Divine glimpses of a maiden muse being various meditations and epigrams on several subjects : with a probable cure of our present epidemical malady if the means be not too long neglected / by Chr. Clobery ...

Sin.

MOnster of Monsters! who hast monstrous made Nature it self, in us, who natures had First, pure, and holy, and to good inclin'd: Till (by thy falshood) we to bad declin'd: And thy meer essence is extream averse From God, and good; but prone to ways perverse. All that the great Jehovah made, was good VVhen he created it; and (had they stood) Angels and Men had so continu'd still: But they would needs be gods, and had their will So far, that they Creators were of thee, VVhom they created, both their falls to be: A Creatures Creature, and so vile a one, That Heav'n, Earth, Hell, so bad besides have none; Rake Topher's cinders; sift the Serpents seed; And keep the worst; yet will that damned breed More fair in Gods all-seeing eyes appear, Then Sin, which summon'd them together there. Sin made God angry; Men and Angels fall; Made God make Hell: and Sin made Dev'l and all.

Ah! cursed caitiff; how can we delight In the embracement of such wretched wight? A hideous Elf, abhorr'd of all that's good; Our dear Redeeme's Murtherer; whose Blood By cursed sacrilegious hands was spilt, To wash our souls from sins polluting guilt. Our soul's the precious game for which she fishes, Which to destroy eternally she wishes; Yet we (bewitched w••) most dearly love her; Too dearly sure, as all will find that prove her: Whose souls shall purchase (Oh the dearest gain!) For sins short pleasure, their eternal pain. 'Tis sure some witchcraft, some inchanting spell, Whereby she trains us on asleep to Hell: And stupifies our senses; blindes our eyes; Obthures our ears; and phantasms doth devise, To charm our fancies, and besot our reason; And make our selves against our selves work treason. Nor have we in our selves pow'r to resist Her winning wiles, no•• from her love desist: That pow'r supernal is: O dearest Lord, Grant us this pow'r, thy help to us afford: Then shall we force thy greatest Foe to yeild, And make our temptingst sin forsake the field.