Youth's comedy, or, The souls tryals and trivmph a dramatic poem, with divers meditations intermixt upon several subjects, set forth to help and encourage those that are seeking a heavenly countrey / by the author of Youth's tragedy.

The Souls Morning Meditation upon the Rising of the Sun.

Soul.

So.

SEe how the Sun in Beauty doth appear, Raising his Head within our Hemi∣sphere: Like to a Bridegroom in his best Array, Or as a Prince on his Cor'nation day: Or the High Priest, whom Silver Trump doth call, To celebrate some solemn Festival: So with bright Splendor doth this Lamp abound, In Robes of Glory circumvested round. If it be sweet and pleasant to the sight, For to behold this great illustrious Light; How far transcendent will our Pleasure be, When we the Son of Righteousness shall see. And by our sight to Glory be transform'd, Like unto that with which he is adorn'd?

How swiftly doth this Golden Lamp ascend, And his bright Rays throughout the World ex∣tend. Although this Terrene Globe be very great, Reck'ned in Breadth Seven thousand miles com∣pleat? Yet doth this Lamp in largeness far exceed, From whence we may collect his flying speed. For in few Minutes from his first access, To our Horizon, doth he forward press. His vast Diameter, until he rear The whole thereof within our Hemisphere. And so runs forward with Gigantick pace, (Like one refresht with Wine) his joyful Race, That God who strengthens this unwearied Sun, Will help his Saints their Heav'nly Course to run. And they that love the Lord with hearts upright, Shall go forth as the Sun in all his might.

How fleet a thing is Time, when this swift Race, Is made the measure of its winged pace.

Posting from Morning to Meridian height, Then flies with trebble shade to call up Night. So is our Life, our Youthful Morning Sun, Speeds to the Achme of its full ag'd Noon. Then down the Hill to dusky night it hasts And as it goes, long shades of weakness casts. Is Time so swift and short, yea shorter yet, Because our Sun before it's Noon may set. Then let us reckon up our Time as fast, And ev'ry Moment count it as our last. And so accounting, see our Work be done, Before the setting of our posting Sun.

This Prince of Planets largely doth dispence, Throughout the World vivifick influence To Fruits and Plants, and all things that here grow, Yea, penetrates unseen to things below: Producing of those rich Metallick Veins, Which the dark Intrails of the Earth contains. Gifts for Delight and Vse, his potent Rays, In plenty through the Universe displays.

If God by this created Light doth give Such Gifts unto his Foes that here do live: What good and perfect Gifts shall the upright Receive from God the Father of all Light?

Again, observe when this same luminous Globe, Retireth from us in his oblique road; Then frigid Blasts from gloomy Skies prevail, And nipping Cold with frequent Storms assail. And when this golden Lamp with-draws his Light, Dark Clouds invest the long umbrageous Night. Whil'st couchant Beasts rouse from their Savage Cave, And with fierce steps after their Prey do rave. So when the Fountain of all Light and Grace With-draws and hides the Visions of his Face, Then is it Winter with the troubled Soul, And pensive thoughts, like Clouds of Darkness role. Then doth the cruel Lyon, couch'd before In secret Den, with dire Temptations roar.

But as the Sun with chearful Light doth thaw The frozen Earth, and near unto us draw; The heart of Man with vernal Joy is glad, And fragrant Meads with flowry Mantles clad. Pastures are cloath'd with Flocks, with Corn the Vales, And shouting Joy breaks from the Hills & Dales. So when the Son of Righteousness imparts His near approaching Beams to drooping Hearts, Then doth sweet Joy their troubled Spirits raise, And pleasant Fruit crown their reviving days.