for thine eye Or if that wound be clos'd that passage be Deny'd between thy gracious eyes and me Yet view the scarre that scarre will countermand Thy wrath O read my fortune in thy hand S. CHRYS. Hom. 4. Joan. Fools seem to abound in wealth when they want all things they seem to enjoy happinesse when indeed they are onely most miserable neither do they understand that they are delâ—…ded by their fancy till they be delivered from their folly S. GREG. in Mor. By so much the more are we inwardly foolish by how much we strive to seem outwardly wise EPIG. 2. Rebellious fool what has thy folly done Controul'd thy God and crucisi'd his Sonne How sweetly has the Lord of life deceiv'd thee Thou shedst his bloud and that shed blood has sav'd thee III. PSALM 6. 2. Have mercy Lord upon me for I am weak O Lord heal me for my bones are vexed Soul Jesus Soul AH Son of David help Jes. What sinfull 〈◊〉 Implores the Son of David Soul It is I Jes. Who art thou Soul Oh a deeply wounded breast That 's heavy laden and would fain have rest Jes. I have no scraps and dogs must not be fed Like houshold children with the childrens bread Soul True Lord yet tolerate a hungry whelp To lick their crummes O Sonne of David help Jes. Poore Soul what ail'st thou Soul O I burn I fry I cannot rest I know not where to fly To find some case I turn my blubber'd facé From man to man I â—…oul from place to place T' avoid my tortures to obtein relief But still am dogg'd and haunted with my grief My midnight torments call the sluggish light And when the morning 's come they woo the night Jes. Surcease thy tears and speak thy free desires Soul Quench quench my flames and swage these scorching fires Jes. Canst thou believe my hand can cure thy grief Soul Lord I believe Lord help my unbelief Jes. Hold forth thy arm and let my fingers try Thy pulse where chiefly doth thy torment lie Soul From head to foot it reignes in ev'ry part But playes the self-law'd tyrant in my heart Jes. Canst thou digâ—…st canst relish wholesome food Haw stands thy tast Soul To nothing that is good All sinfull â—…rash and earths unsav'ry stuff I can digest and relish well enough Jes. Is not thy bloud as cold â—…s hot by turns Soul Cold to what 's good to what is bad it burns Jes. How old 's thy grief Soul I took it at the fall With eating fruit Jes. 'T is Epidenâ—…call Thy bloud 's infected and th' infection spâ—…ng From a bad liver 'T is a feaver strong And full of death unlesse with present speed A vein be op'ned thou must die or bleed Soul O I am faint and spent that launce that shall Let forth my bloud le ts forth my life withall My soul wants cordials and has greater need Of bloud then being spent so far to bleâ—…d I faint already If I bleed I die Jes. 'T is either thou-must bleed sick soul or I My bloud 's a cordiall He that sucks my veins Shall â—…se his own and conquer greater pains Then these cheer up this precious bloud of mine Shall cure thy grief my heart shall bleed for thine Believe and view me with a faithfull eye Thy soul shall neither languish bleed â—…or die S. AUGUST lib. 10. Confess Lord be mercisull unto me Ah me Behold I hide not my wounds Thou art a Phâ—…sician and I am sick Thou aâ—…t mercifull and I am miserable S. GREG. in Pastoral. O Wisdome with how sweet an aâ—…t dâ—…th thy wine and oyl vestore health to my healthlesse soul How powersully mercisull how mercifully powerfull art thoâ—… Powerfull for me mercisull to me EPIG. 3. Canst thou be sick and such a Doctour by Thou canst not live unlesse thy Doctour die Strange kind of grief that finds no med'cine good To swage her pains but the Physicians bloud IV. PSALM 25. 18. Look upon my affliction and my pain and forgive all my sinnes BOth work and strokes both lash and labour too What more could Edom or proud Ashur do Stripes after stripes and blows succeding blows Lord has thy scourge no mercy and my woes No end my pains no ease no intermission Is this the state Is this the sad condition Of those that trust thee will thy goodâ—…esse please T' allow no other favours none but these Will not the thet'rick of my torments move Are these the symptomes these the signes of love Is 't not enough enough that I â—…ulfill The toylsome task of thy laborious mill May not this labour expiate and puâ—…ge My sinne without th' addition of thy scourge Look on my cloudy brow how fast it rains Sad showers of sweat the fruits of fruitlesse pains Behold these ridges see what purple furrows Thy plow has made O think upon those sorrows That once were thine wilâ—… wilt thou not be woo'd To mercy by the charms of sweat and blood Canst thou forget that drowsie mount wherein Thy dull Disciples slept was not my sinne There punish'd in thy soul did not this brow Then sweat in thine were not those drops enow Remember Golgotha where that spring-tide O'rflow'd thy sovereigne Sacramentall side There was no sinne there was no guilt in Thee That caus'd those pains thou sweat'st thou bledst for me Was there not bloud enough when one small drop Had pow'r to ransome thousand worlds and stop The mouth of Justice Lord I bled before In thy deep wounds can Justice challenge more Or dost thou vainly labour to hedge in Thy losses from my sides my bloud is thin And thy free bountie scorns such easie thrift No no thy bloud came not as lone but gift But must I ever grind And must I earn Nothing but stripes O wilt thou disaltern The rest thou gav'st Hast thou perus'd the curse Thou laid'st on Adams fall and made it worse Canst thou repent of mercy Heav'n thought good Lost man should feed in sweat not work in bloud Why dost thou wound th' already wounded breast Ah me my life is but a pain at bâ—…st I am but dying dust my dayes a span What pleasure tak'st thou in the bloud of man Spare spare thy scourge and be not so austere Send fewer stroaks or lend more strength to bear S. BERN. Hom. 81. in Cant. Miserable man who shall deliver me 〈◊〉 the reproch of this shamefull bondage I am a miserable man but a â—…ree man â—…ce because a man miserable because a servant In regard of my bondage miserable in regard of my will inexcusable For my will that was â—…ree beslaved it self to sinne by assenting to sinne for he that committeth sinne is the servant to sinne EPIG. 4. Taxe not thy God Thine own defaults did urge This twofold punishment the mill the scourge Thy sin 's the authour of thy self tormenting Thou grind'st for sinning scourg'd for not repenting V. JOB 10. 9. Remember I beseech thee that thou hast made me as the clay
and wilt thou bring me to dust again THus from the bosome of the new-made earth Poore man was delv'd and had his unborn birth The same the stuffe the self-same hand doth trim The plant that fades the beast that dies and him One was their sire one was their common mother Plants are his sisters and the beast his brother The elder too beasts draw the self-same breath Wax old alike and die the self-same death Plants grow as he with fairer robes arraid Alike they slourish and alike they â—…ade The beast in sense exceeds him and in growth The three-ag'd oake doth thrice exceed them both Why look'st thou then so big thou little span Of earth What art thou more in being man I but my great Creatour did inspire My chosen earth with that diviner fire Of reason gave me judgement and a will That to know good this to chuse good from ill He put the rains of pow'r in my free hand And jurisdiction over sea and land He gave me art to lengthen out my span Of life and made me all in being man I but thy passion has committed treason Against the sacred person of thy reason Thy judgement is coâ—…rupt perverse thy will That knows no good and this makes choice of â—…ll The greater height sends down the deeper fall And good dâ—…clin'd turns bad turns worst of all Say then proud inch of living â—…arth what can Thy greatnesse claim the more in being man O but my soul transcends the pitch of nature Born up by th' Image of her high Creatour Outbraves the life of reason and beats down Her waxen wings kicks off her brazen crown My earth 's a living Temple t' entertein The King of Glory and his glorious train How can I mend my title then where can Ambition sind a higher style then man Ah but that Image is defac'd and soil'd Her Temple 's raz'd her Altars all desil'd Her vessels are polluted and distain'd With lothed lust her ornaments prophan'd Her oyl-forsaken lamps and hallow'd tapours Put out her incense breaths unsav'ry vapours Why swell'st thou then so giâ—… thou little span Of earth what art thou more in being man Eteâ—…nall Potter whose blest hands did lay My course foundation from a sod of clay Thou know'st my slender vessâ—…l's apt to leak Thou know'st my brittle temper 's prone to break Are my bones brazzil or my slesh of oake O mend what thou hast made what I have broke Look look with gentle eyes and in thy day Of vengeance Lord remember I am clay S. AUGUST Sâ—…liloq 32. Shall I ask who made me It was thou that madest me without whom nothing was made Thou art my maker and I thy work I thank thee my Lord God by whom I live and by whom all things suâ—…sist because thou madest me I thank thâ—… O my Potter because thy hands have made me because thy hands have formed me EPIO. 5. Why swell'st thou man pust up with fame and purse Th' art better earth but born to dig the worse Thou cam'st from eaâ—…th to earth thou must return And art but earth cast from the womb to th' urn VI JOB 7. 20. I have sinned what shall I do unto thee O thou preserver of men why hast thou set me as a mark against thee LOrd I have done and Lord I have misdone 'T is folly to contest to strive with one That is too strong 't is folly to assail Or prove an arm that will that must prevail I 've done I 've done these trembling hands have thrown Their daring weapons down the day 's thine own Forbear to strike where thou hast won the field The palm the palm is thine I yield I yield These ueach'rous hands that were so vainly bold To try a thrivelesse combat and to hold Self-wounding weapons up are now extended For mercy from thy hand that knee that bended Upon her guardlesse guard doth now repent Upon this naked floore See both are bent And sue for pitty O my ragged wound Is deep and desp'rate it is drench'd and drown'd In blood and briny tears It doth begin To stink without and putrifie within Let that victorious hand that now appears Just in my blood prove gracious to my tears Thou great Preserver of presumptuous man What shall I do what satisfaction can Poore dust and ashes make O if that bloud That yet remains unshed were half as good As bloud of oxen if my death might be An offering to attone my God and me I would disdain injurious life and stand A suiter to be wounded from thy hand But may thy wrongs be measur'd by the span Of life or balanc'd with the bloud of man No no eternall sinne expects for guerdon Eternall penâ—…nce or eternall pardon Lay down thy weapons turn thy wrath away And pardon him that hath no price to pay Enlarge that soul which base presumption binds Thy justice cannot loose what mercy finds O thou that wilt not bruise the broken reed Rub not my sores noâ—… prick the wounds that bleed Lord if the peevish infant fights and flies With unpar'd weapons at his mothers eyes Her frowns half mixt with smiles may chance to shew An angry love-trick on his arm or so Where if the babe but make a lip and cry Her heart begins to melt and by and by She coaks his dewy-cheeks her babe she blisses And choaks her language with a thousand kisses I am that child lo here I prostrate lie Pleading for mercy I repent and crie For gracious pardon let thy gentle ears Heare that in words what motheâ—…s judge in tears See not my 〈◊〉 Lord but through my fear And look on ev'ry trespasse through a tear Then calm thy anger and appear more mild Remember th' art a Father I a child S. BERN. Ser. 21. in Cant. Miserable man Who shall deliver me from the reproch 〈◊〉 this shamefull bondage I am a miserable man but a free man Free because like to God miserable because against God O keeper of mankind why hast thou set me as a mark against thee Thou hast set me because thou hast not hindred me It is just that thy enemy should be my enemy and that he who repugneth thee should repugne me I who am against thee am against my self EPIG. 6. But form'd and sight but boâ—…n and then rebell How small a blast will make a bubble swell But dare the â—…oore affront the hand that laid it So apt is dust to fly in 's face that made it VII JOB 13. 24. Wherefore hidest thou thy face and holdest me for thine enemy WHy dost thou shade thy lovely face O why Doth that eclipsing hand so long deny The Sun-shine of thy soul-enliv'ning eye Without that Light what light remains in me Thou art my Life my Way my Light in thee I live I move and by thy beams I see Thou art my Life If thou but turn away My life 's a thousand deaths thou art my Way Without thee Lord I travel not but stray My Light thou
art without thy glorious sight Mine eyes are darkned with perpetuall night My God thou art my Way my Life my Light Thou art my Way I wander if thou fly Thou art my Light If hid how blind am Iâ—… Thou art my Life If thou withdraw I die Mine eyes are blind and dark I cannot see To whom or whether should my darknesse flee But to the Light And who 's that Light but thee My path is lost my wand'ring steps do stray I cannot safely go nor safely stay Whom should I seek but thee my Path my Way O I am dead to whom shall I poore I Repair to whom shall my sad ashes fly But Life And where is Life but in thine eye And yet thou turn'st away thy face and fly'st me And yet I sue for grace and thou deny'st me Speak art thou angry Lord or onely try'st me Unskreen those Heav'nly lamps or tell me why Thou shad'st thy face perhaps thou thinkst no eye Can view those flames and not drop down and die If that be all shine forth and draw thee nigher Let me behold and die for my desire Is Phoenix like to perish in that fire Death conquer'd Laz'rus was redeem'd by thee If I am dead Lord see deaths prisner free Am I more spent or stink I worse then he If my pufft light be out give leave to tine My slamelesse-snuss at that bright Lamp of thine O what 's thy Light the lesse for lighting mine If I have lost my Path great Shepherd say Shall I still wander in a doubtfull way Lord shall a Iamb of Isr'els sheepfold stâ—…ay Thou art the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the blind mans Eye The dead mans Life on thee my hopes rely If thou remove I erre I grope I die Disclose thy Sun-beams close thy wings and stay See see how I am blind and dead and stray O thou that art my Light my Life my Way S. AUGUST Soliloqu cap. 1. Why dost thou hide thy face Happily thou 〈◊〉 say none can see thy face and live Ah Lord let me die that I may see thee let me see thee that I may die I would not live but die That I may see Christ I desire death That I may live with Christ I despise life ANSELM Med. cap. 5. O excellent hiding which is become my persection My God Thou hidest thy treasure to kindle my desire Thou hidest thy pearl to inflame the seeker Thou delayest â—…o give that Thou maist teach me to importune seem'st not to hear to make mâ—… persever EPIG. 7. If 〈◊〉 all-quickning eyes vouchsafe to shine Upon our souls we slight If not we whine Our Equinoctiall hearts can never lie Secure beneath the Tropicks of that eye VIII JE REMIAâ—… 9. 1. O that my head were waters and mine eyes a fountain of tears that I might weep day and night O That mine eyes were springs and could transform Their drops to seas my sighs into a storm Of zeal and sacred violence wherein This lab'ring vèssel laden with heâ—… sinne Might suffer sudden shipwrack and be split Upon that rock where my drencht soul may sit O'rwhelm'd with plenteous passion O and there Drop drop into an everlasting tear Ah me that ev'ry sliding vein that wanders Through this vast Isle did work her wild meanders In brackish tears in stead of bloud and swell This flesh with holy dropsies from whose well Made warm with sighs may fume my wasting breath Whil'st I dissolve in steams and reek to death These narrow sluces of my dribbling eyes Are much too strait for those quick springs that rise And hourely fill my temples to the top I cannot shed for ev'ry sinne a drop Great builder of mankind why hast thou sent Such swelling flouds and made so small a ventâ—… O that this flesh had been compos'd of snow In stead of earth and bones of ice that so Feeling the fervour of my sinne and lothing The â—…ire I feel I might be thaw'd to nothing O thou that didst with hopefull joy entomb Me thrice three moons in thy laborious womb And then with joyfull pain broughtst forth a Son What worth thy labour has thy labour done What was there Ah! what was there in my birth That could deserve the easiest smile of mirth A man was born Alas and what 's a man A scuttle full of dust a measur'd span Of flitting Time a furnish'd pack whose wares Are sullen griefs and soul-tormenting cares A vale of tears a vessel tunn'd with breath By sicknesse brocht to be drawn out by deaâ—…h A haplesse helplesse thing that born doth cry To feed that feeds to live that lives to die Great God and Man whose eyes spent drops so often For me that cannot weep enough O soften These marble brains and strike this slintie rock Or if the musick of thy Peters cock Will more prevail fill fill my hearkning ears With that sweet sound that I may melt in tears I cannot weep untill thou broch mine eye Or give me vent or else I burst and die S. AMBROS. in Psal. 118. He that committeth sinnes to be wept for cannot weep for sianes committed And being himself most lamentable hath no tears to lament his offences NAZIANZ Orat. 3. Tears are the deluge of sinne and the worlds sacrifice S. HIERON. in Esaiam Prayer appeaseth God but a tear compelleth him That moveth him but this constraineth him EPIO. 8. Earth is an Island ported round with fears The way to Heav'n is through the Sea of tearsâ—… It is a stormy passage where is found The wrack of many a ship but no man drown'd IX PSALM 18. 5. The sorrows of hell compassed me about and the snares of death prevented me IS not this Type well cut In ev'ry part Full of rich cunning sill'd with Zeuxian Art Are not the hunters and their Stygian hounds Limm'd full to th' life didst ever heare the sounds The musick and the lip-divided breaths Of the strong-winded horn recheats and deaths Done more exact th' infernall Nimrods hollow The lawlesse Purliews and the game they follow The hidden engines and the snares that lie So undiscover'd so obscure to th' eye The new-drawn net and her entangled prey And him thae closes it Beholder say Is 't not well done seems not an em'lous strife Betwixt the rare cut picture and the life These Purliew-men are Devils and the Hounds Those quick-nos'd Canibals that scour the grounds Temptations and the Game these Fiends pursue Are humane souls which still they have in view Whose fury if they chance to scape by slying The skilfull Hunter plants his net close lying On th' unsuspected earth bayted with treasure Ambitious honour and self-wasting pleasure Where if the soul but stoop death stands prepar'd To draw the net and drawn the soul 's ensnat'd Poore soul how 〈◊〉 thou hurried to and fro Where canst thou safely stay where safely go If stay these hot-mouth'd hounds are apt to tear thee If go the snares enclose the nets ensnare thee What good in this bad world has pow'r t'
invite thee A willing guest wherein can earth delight thee Her pleasures are but itch her wealth but 〈◊〉 A world of dangers and a world of snares The close pursuers busie hands do plant Snares in thy substance Snares attend thy want Snares in thy credit Snares in thy disgrace Snares in thy high estate Snares in thy base Snares tuck thy bed and Snares arround thy board Snares watch thy thoughts and Snares attach thy word Snares in thy quiet Snares in thy commotion Snares in thy 〈◊〉 Snares in thy devotion Snares lurk in thy resolves Snares in thy doubt Snares lie within thy heart and Snares without Snares are above thy head and Snares beneath Snares in thy sicknesse Snares are in thy death O if these Purliews be so full of danger Great God of Harts the worlds sole sov'reigne Ranger Preserve thy Deere and let my soul be blest In thy safe Forrest where I seék for rest Then let the hell-hounds rore I fear no ill Rouze me they may but have no pow'r to kill S. AMBROS. lib. 4. in cap. 4. Lucae The reward of honours the height of power the delicacie of diet and the beautie of a harlot are the snares of the devil S. AMBROS. de bono mortis Whilest thou seekest pleasures thou runnest into snares for the eye of the harlot is the snare of the Adulterer SAVANAR In eating he setteth before us gluttony Iâ— generation luxury In labour sluggishnesse In conversing envy In governing covetousnesse In correcting anger In honour pride In the heart he setteth evil thoughts In the mouth evil words In actions evil works when awake he moveth us to evil actions when asleep to filthy dreams EPIG. 9. Be sad my Heart deep dangers wait thy mirth Thy soul 's way-laid by Sea by Hell by Earth Hell has her hounds Earth snares the Sea a shelf But most of all my Heart beware thy self X. PSALM 143. 2. Enter not into judgement with thy servant for in thy sight shall no man living be justified Jesus Justice Sinner Jes. BRing forth the prisner Justice Just Thy commands 〈◊〉 done just Judge See here the prisner stands Jes. What hath the prisner done Say what 's the cause Of his commitment Just He has broke the laws Of his too gracious God conspir'd the death Of that great Majesty that gave him breath And heapt transgression Lord upon transgression Jes. How know'st thou this Just Ev'n by his own confession His sinnes are crying and they cry'd aloud They cry'd to Heav'n they cry'd to Heav'n for bloud Jes. What say'st thou sinner hast thou ought to plead That sentence should not passe hold up thy head And shew thy brasen thy rebellious face Sin Ah me I dare not I 'm too vile and base To tread upon the earth much more to 〈◊〉 Mine eyes to Heav'n I need no other 〈◊〉 Then mine own conscience Lord I must confesse I am no more then dust and no whit lesse Then my 〈◊〉 styles me Ah if thou Search too severe with too severe a brow What flesh can stand I have transgrest thy laws My merits plead thy vengeance not my cause Just Lord shall I strike the blow Jes. Hold Justice stay Sinner speak on what hast thou more to say Sin Vile as I am and of my self abhorr'd I am thy handy-work thy creature Lord Stampt with thy glorious Image and at first Most like to thee though now a poore accurst Convicted catiff and degen'rous creature Here trembling at thy bar Just Thy fault 's the greater Lord sâ—…ll I strike the blow Jes. Hold Justice stay Speak sinner hast thou nothing more to say Sin Nothing but Mercy Mercy Lord my state Is miserably poore and desperate I quite renounce my self the world and flee From Lord to Jesus from thy self to thee Just Cease thy vain hopes my angry God has vow'd Abused mercy must have bloud for bloud Shall I yet strike the blow Jes. Stay Justice hold My bowels yearn my fainting bloud growes cold To view the trembling wretch me thinks I spy My fathers image in the prisners eye Just I cannot hold Jes. Then turn thy thirsty blade Into my sides let there the wound be made Chear up dear soul redeem thy life with mine My soul shall smart my heart shall bleed for thine Siâ—… O ground-lesse deeps O love beyond degree Th' offended dies to set th' offender free S. AUGUST Lord if I have done that for which thou maist damne me thou hast not lost that whereby thou maist save me Remember not sweet Jesus thy justice against the sinner but thy benignity towards thy creature Remember not to proceed against a guilty soul but remember thy mercy towards a miserable wretch Forget the insolence of the provoker and behold the misery of the invoker for what is Jesus but a Saviour ANSELM Have respect to what thy Sonne hath done for me and forget what my sinnes have done against thee My flesh hath provoked thee to vengeance let the flesh of Christ move thee to mercy It is much that my rebellions have deserved but it is more that my Redeemer hath marited EPIG. 10. Mercie of mercies He that was my drudge Is now my Advocate is now my Judge He suffers pleads and sentences alone Three I adore and yet adore but One XI PSALM 69. 15. Let not the water-flood overflow me neither let the deeps swallow me up THe world 's a Sea my flesh a Ship that 's mann'd With lab'ring Thoughts and steer'd by Reasons hand My Heart 's the Sea-mans Card whereby she sails My loose Affections are the greater Sails The Top-sail is my Fancie and the Gusts That sill these wanton sheets are worldly Lusts. Pray'r is the Cable at whose end appears The Anchor Hope nev'r slipt but in our fears My Will's th' unconstant Pilot that commands The stagg'ring Keel my Sinnes are like the Sands Repentance is the Bucket and mine Eye The Pump 〈◊〉 but in extremes and dry My Conscience is the Plummet that doth presse The deeps but seldome cries A sathom lesse Smooth Calm's security the Gulf despair My Fraught's Corruption and this Life 's my Fair My Soul 's the Passenger confus'dly driven From fear to fright her landing-Port is Heaven My Seas are stormy and my Ship doth leak My Saylers rude my Steersman saint and weak My Canvace torn it slaps from side to side My Cable 's crakt my Anchor's slightly ti'd My Pilot's craz'd my thipwrack-Sands are cloak'd My Bucket 's broken and my Pump is choak'd My Calm 's deceitfull and my Gulf too near My Wares are slubber'd and my Fare's too dear My Plummet 's light it cannot sink nor sound O shall my Rock-bethreatned Soul be drown'd Lord still the Seas and shield my Ship from harm Instruct my Sailours guid my Steersmans arm Touch thou my Compasse and renew my Sails Send stifter courage or send milder gales Make strong my Cable bind my Anchor faster Direct my â—…ilot and be thou his Master Object the Sands to my more serious