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 ...

Heaven.

ETernal Majesty, who here dost raign! My Muse assistance by thy Spirit daign: In mercy pardon this my bold adventure, The holiest of holies thus to enter: Oh! circumcise my heart: my foul lips touch VVith thy great Altar's cole, ere I approach Thy honour's dwelling: Sanctifie my verse: Let this its Our ano-graphy rehearse Soul-charming strains, that ravish may with love My self, and others, of the things above. I kiss thy threshold, Lord, and so creep in, VVhere's no approach for ought defil'd with sin: Not that i'm pure, but foul: yet purged cleer, Lo, Lord, my sacrifice and Priest are here At thy right hand of glory, with thee one: The glory both of thy right hand and throne, The wonder of thy mercy, love and grace: VVho bears all Heavens joys summ'd in his face:

The Heav'n of Heav'n: Men cannot wish more bliss, Then to behold thy sacred face, and his, Though but a moment: who such sight might have, Would hug the silent hushtness of the grave; Kiss death; yea, woo Hells self, on the condition, (When time's spent to the snuff) to have fruition Of that transcendent joy. Oh grace divine! Incomprehensible, save by the Tri'ne! It forc'th my tongue-ty'd Muse (rapt with delight) To stutter forth a far-short Epithite. Oh su-per-su-per-su-su-per-la-tive Stupendious Love! Into whose depth to dive, Would non-plus Heav'ns Angelick Hierarchy; VVonder-strike all the Saints to Lethargy: Yet (as if these essentials of that joy VVere too too small for mankinde to enjoy, Too slight a guerdon for a sinful worm, VVhose sting death-stung the Lord of Life, whose form First most divine, is self-deform'd by guilt) God for augmenting circumstantials built This New Jerusalem, Joys splendid throne: A City whose high walls are precious stone: Her streets transparent gold: her unshut gates Of Orient pearls, all of unvalu'd rates: VVhere needs nor Sun by day, nor Moon by night, For God's great glory gives eternal light: The Lamb's the Lamp thereof: within it walk Earth's saved Tribes, whose musick, and whose talk Are Allelu-iahs: whose white Robes out vie The purest snow in candor: such no eye Of Mortal ever saw; nor heart of man Can half conceive: where Jesus leads the Van Of sacred Myriades, host of Lord of hosts, VVith millions of Angels for the posts And scouts of that Coelestial Army, grac'd VVith many thousand-thousand Kings; all plac'd

In thrones of glory, crown'd with endless peace, And sceptred with triumphant Palms: where cease All oppositions to eternity: For all their Enemies subdued lie Chain'd up in deathless flames, in sulph'ry smother, Tormenting, and tormented by each other: Doom'd to so horrid and immense a curse, As God himself can wish his Foes no worse. But what need Joys Antipathetical, Where Sympathetical drown heart and all, In sweet satiety, and pleasing fulness, Blessedly void of nauseating dulness? This feast's cates cloy not, ne'er so freely ta'en, The Ghests need fear no surfeiting, or bane: Yet it's a lasting, everlasting feast; Like free for all, the greatest or the least. Here winged Cherubims bring in the Ghests From all Earth's quarters, after Death's arrests: That Vinegar prepares their appetites To feed on unexpressible delights: For that's Gods wonted way, (as all Saints know) Who'll feast above, must taste sowre sauce below. Afflictions are Preparatives to bliss: VVho rightly bear one, rarely t'other miss; I might say, never. Lord! what fools are we, VVhom sense misseads to doat on what we see, Hear, feel, smell, taste, with Organs physical? Sense-comforts have Soul-poyson in them all: The Spider sucks them thence: and heedless Bees Fixing on them, their 'fore-got honey leese, And labour too. Avaunt,! avaunt, dear souls! Let Faith's bright eye aspire beyond the Poles, And view those everlasting Mansions there, Void of disturbance, anguish, care or fear, Of all that discontents, all that annoys: And full refert with boundless, endless joys.

Here the celestial choristers declare Their maker's glory, chaunting hymns most rare Sweet odes and Epithalamies they'll sing, To celebrate the nuptials of their king: Mount Sion's Lamb, Lyon of Judah's tribe; Whose bless'd inauguration they'll describe In soul-amazing notes, that ravish quite All ears with sweet excess of choice delight; The Heav'n, and Heav'n of Heavens ring with peals Of acclamations at the open'd seals: The mystery of God fulfill'd they'll see, And joy therein to all eternitie. Methinks I hear the most melodious songs, The none-such ditties warbled by those throngs: My towring soul transmounts the cast back skies, Sensing (in her degree) those rhapsodies, Hyper-noetick strains, that quite transform My lowly muse into a lofty form: Make nature lethe-drunk: inflame my heart With restless longing there to bear a part, Where who the least part bears, shall bear a weight Of countless, endless glory, great, yet light: A crowning burthen burthenless: who bear The Cross right here, shall there the crown right wear; An Amarantine Crown of glory, lasting Further beyond, then 'tis to everlasting. Lord! why doth this dull lump of earth detain My mounting soul from their consort that raign With thee in glory? I should groan to be Dissolv'd, that I thy presence bright might see, Whereof a glympse I spy: but sinful flesh Still conjures up desires of life afresh; Of life not worth desiring, now I view The difference 'twixt it and this that's true. True life is only here: our life below Is but a mock-life, meerly life in show,

But real death. Lord, that I here might stay And wait at my Redeemer's feet for aye! But ah! it cannot be; I must descend And re-invested be in flesh, to end My task by thee appointed me beneath, Till (summon'd by thy Pursevant grim death, Or judgement's change) I re-appear before Thy throne, to be with thee for evermore. Dear God, in mercy dangers all prevent That may affayl my soul in this descent; From sin-defilement keep her pure and free, And then thy will be done (O Lord) on me. Yet ah! i'm loath to part: my soul much fear'th To fall from highest heav'n, to lowest earth: Guide me, and her (Lord) while we there remain, And then ere long, we shall return again.