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 Meditation upon Eternity.

Soul.

So.

LOng Age of Ages, how long to de∣mand, Makes pos'd Arithmetick, in silence stand. To reckon up its date, she is not able, Wants places in her Numeration Table.

Could we together in one sum amass The Stars of Heav'n, and the Piles of Grass. The numerous Sands that on the Sea-shore lie, The Minute Atomes, in the World that fly; The Drops of Rain and Fleeces of the Snow, The Grains of Corn that ever yet did grow, The Leaves that Autumn from the Trees hath cast, The thoughts that through the Heart of Man have past. This would not make a Measure for to stretch, Unto its end, or yet its middle retch.

Duration, not divided, by what's past, Or yet to come, but still the same doth last. Eternal NOW, that always doth remain Wheeling about to the same point again. A Circle without Radius, that doth run Into it self, beginning not begun. Immensurable, by the longest Line, That can be stretched out by aged Time. Could we a Line of Figures lengthen out, Enough to gird the highest Sphere about. And the last number to be reck'ned there, Stood for the Vnites place of Plato's year: Yet all those Millions would not rise to be The smallest Fraction in Eternity.

Oh number numberless, unto whose store, Addition is not able to add more. Oh endless ever, where we must confess, Subtraction cannot make it one jot less.

Oh bitter Sin, Oh dear bought Lust, For which the Soul Eternally is thrust.

From the Supream and Vniversal Good, Into the Torrent of the Sulphurous Flood.

Depart from me, a Sentence full as Dire, As go you Curst into Eternal Fire. If when the Body with the Soul doth part, Such Mortal Pangs and Gripes do seize the Heart? Who can conceive the Souls convulsive Strife, In its seclusion from the Spring of Life? A loss that doth in one all Loss express, Full Separation from all Happiness. Besides this Loss, cast into burning Deeps, Where Terror reigns and Sorrow never sleeps. That without ease or respit, undergo The constant Rackings of eternal Woe. Vessels of dreadful Wrath, prepared wide To hold full measure, swallow'd up beside. Plunged in Gulphs of Sulphurous Whirl-pools bound, Sinking in Horrour, where no Bottom's found. Perpetually with bitter Anguish tost, For mispent Time and golden Seasons lost.

Whose Songs are turn'd to Scritches, and their Mirth Into the Pangs of everlasting Death. Where damned Souls can neither fain or fear Greater or worser Torments than they bear.

Oh wretched Souls, that in dire Flames must dwell, Longer than Words can utter, Numbers tell. That ev'ry moment, whil'st in liquid Fire, They burning are, think this must ne'r expire. That do fetch in, unto each moments pain, That EVER which in it they must remain: And add unto their present Misery, The endless Torments of Eternity.

Oh blessed be those Souls, that through rich Grace, Are ransom'd from this ever dreadful place. In whom Eternal Life is here begun, Running through this into the World to come. Death changeth not our State, but the Degree, Grace here begun, in Heav'n shall perfect be.

Where weary Saints enjoy their long'd for rest, And hungry Souls on choicest Dainties feast. Where Shields and Swords are turn'd to Harps and Palms, And Sighs and Sobs to blessed Hyms and Psalms. Where Saints, with Angels, in sweet comfort sing, With well tun'd Lyres, the Praises of their King. And there behold that Beatifick Sight, That fills their Souls with unconceiv'd Delight. Viewing the highest Object ever prais'd, With highest Acts of Understanding rais'd. With such clear Views, as infinitely will, The Soul with perfect Satisfaction fill. And by the Visions of that Light Divine, Transform and make them with his Glory shine. For through th' enlivening influence of his Face, He perfects and draws forth their quick'ned Grace. Here all imparted Glory that's made known, They view it so, as that which is their own.

And all the good that from Effects do flow, They in the first and chiefest Good, do know. And know it so, as to enjoy the same, At the Spring Head, from whence all Goodness came. No Good shall blessed Souls desire, or will, But at this Fountain shall receive their fill. United always, to that Good supream, Which evermore into their Souls shall stream. For Saints shall have with him a perfect Union, And so all Good from him in full Communion.

Oh happy State, where no dark shade doth fall, For Glory here is always vertical. No sable Cloud shall once obscure their Sun, No Night or Sleep shall hinder Joys begun. No long continuance shall abate Delight, Nor full Enjoyment dull our Appetite. But still Desires as large, Delights as fresh, As the first moment we did them possess.

No Sorrow shall those blessed Souls annoy, That enter once into their Masters Joy. Not onely that same Joy their Master gives, But that same Joy in which their Master lives. Not onely filled with their Masters Bliss, But swallowed up in that same Joy of his.

Oh blessed Ever, where all Joys remain Full and unchang'd, Eternally the same. The Comforts that we do enjoy below, Successive are, and ebb as soon as flow. In those are past, we have no interest, Of what's to come we are not yet possest. Onely the present's ours, if that we may Call that our own, which fleets so soon away. But in Eternity it is not so, Our Comforts there, no alteration know. Thou shalt not then desire more than thou hast, Nor canst thou wish for any Comfort past. But all together shall enjoyed be, And that unchang'd unto Eternity.