question if thy wisdome can Is there no God how came there then a man But here I know thou wilt to nature fly All things thou saist by nature live and die And natures force doth all conclusions draw Nature shall therefore be thy only law I grant in all things that created be We may a power which is call'd nature see Which to such creatures is a law indeed Whose skill no other Dialect can read But thou who hast an understanding part And hast besides much benefit by art Sparks rak'd up in thy ashes of such light As death nor divell can extinguish quite Canst thou be grosser then the beast that dies Blind as the beast is yet hast better eyes Admit no maker but ingendring power As earth brings forth the herb the herb the flower But canst thou into natures secrets pry And canst not view a Deitie there by Earth may bring forth but not create fond head Can that give life which in it selfe is dead But here thou wilt out of thy wisdome say There is indeed both dead and living clay The dead brings forth the creature dull and base The living doth produce a living race The sensles earth we may with safety grant Brings forth the sensles grasse the hearb the plant That living morter which is man by name By generation doth produce the same Produce I say as instruments whereby Creating power continues a supply God first indeed mans God-head to convince Made man of dust but man so manking since Man then was made made not himselfe to live How can he then have any life to give Or if he hath we must subject it still Unto the force of the Creators will But be it so what can be granted thence That sensles earth or earth indu'd with sense Can out of their created substance frame An other substance or indeed the same This is but only to preserve t is plain That which before was made not make again Nor can the creature bring forth as is said Without the help of a creating ai'd Thou mad'st not then thy selfe nor yet thy Son Who did that work then which thou see'st is done Thou canst no just apologie invent Confesse there is a God then and repent Thy soule besides though now inclos'd in earth Yet pure in substance and of noble birth Cannot but at some time or other dart Some heavenly rayes into thy earthly heart Which doth convince thy knowledge of thy errour And strikes into thy conscience such a terrour As makes thee feele the power of the most high Which in thy heart thou dar'st thus to deny Were this too little at it is perchance To work upon thy wilfull ignorance Yet God hath further witnesses no doubt Thousands he hath not left himselfe without His word and works uncessantly declare him In such a voice that all the world may heare him His word reveales his truth his works his glory All creatures being do confirme the story But here againe thy wretched heart replies Those works of wonder which no mortall eyes Can see into their center something pose Thy desp'rate thoughts thou stand'st amaz'd at those But for Gods word though writ with his own pen Or from his mouth by heav'ns inspired men That suites not with thee sincks not in thy brain Tush words saist thou they are but wind or vaine Thou can'st those rules which we call Scripture read With no such trust to think them true indeed But mans invention so to keep in awe Men which by nature stand in need of Law But dust and ashes dar'st thou make a tush Which makes both Angels and the heav'ns to blush Racing besides those truths which are ingraven Upon thy soule by truth it selfe from heaven Prints of eternity upon thy soule Are stamp'd by heav'n canst thou then slight that roule Which to thee reades eternity in print Is heav'nly â—ire so hidden in thy flint Thy flint indeed but when this powerfull word Which is more sharpe then a two edged sword Strikes home upon thy flintie soule no doubt It doth force sparks of heavenly fire there out But lest these sparks should burst out into flame Thou seek'st by all meanes to put out the same Though making thus these heavenly sparks retire Thou keepst thy selfe unto eternall fire Againe this word besides the ghostly power That rests within that never raced tower The potent truth which hath so well been try'd With sweet consent and harmony supply'd That harbours in this heav'nly word is such As may convince thy marble heart asmuch The truth indeed that we may truly call One jot whereof did never faile nor shall And did thy sight not dazell at this Sun Thou there mightst cleerly read the same and run But oh thou wretched Atheist that dost find The seeing Organ of thy soule too blind To view the truths in sacred Scripture pend Or wilfull that thou wilt not apprehend O rest not under that Egyptian cloud Cast not away the meanes of light alow'd But read the Scripture to avoid that curse Disuse of reading makes thee read the worse Hadst thou a heart could truly understand Or eyes set ope by faith to read that hand Thou shouldst discerne such wonders in that glasse As nothing but a God can bring to passe The truth of this most perfectly appeares By the consent of past foure thousand yeares Each Promise tipe and Prophesie fulfil'd Do here of certain testimonies yeeld The seed to break the Serpents head was sown Three thousand yeares before the blade was grown All humane hopes might then have been casshierd And yet at length a glorious crop appear'd God once drown'd all the mountaines here below But then above in mercy set his bow To be a sign which hath been still made good That heav'ns no more should poure down such a flood Thus heav'ns by Scripture often times fore-shew What by experience men in time find true That men in Scripture so may learn to read Their Makers glory by his pen and dread Again besides the truth that Scriptures carry That in themselves they from themselves not varry Whereby they are with that perfection crown'd Which in no humane Author can be found The loftie stile that sacred Scriptures bare Their height of birth and majestie declare So powerfull so impartiall and sincere As partiall man could never yet come neere Men deeply learned and of highest wit Unlesse instructed by this holy writ Write at the fairest but with natures quill Dip'd in some fountaine on Pernassus hill Their wisdomes to no higher pitch can hover Then principalls of nature do discover Imploys that agent which we Reason call About no objects but meere naturall But sacred writ that hath a further reatch That is transcending flies a higher pitch That came from heav'n is spirituall and here Made by the spirit to us men appeare That conquers reason subdues natures Lawes As far unable to dispute the cause That is eternall therefore sent to try That part in man which hath no
DIves deny'd what Lazarus beg'd in want Dives now beg's what Lazarus must not grant Impartiall Justice dost thy hand so guide One drop of water may not fall beside Then why are we so in our hearing gul'd With the fond false enchantments of the world To stop our eares when poore men aske and know We must not beg if we will not bestow Dives in hell is now with horrour fill'd Lazarus hath musicke what the heav'ns can yield Dives hence forth shall never hear of joy Lazarus shall never hear the least annoy Let Dives then our daily warning be He once had musicke mirth as sweet as we And wisely working on examples given Let Lazarus now allure our eares to heaven Dives MY eyes which once as windowes did appear Through which the worlds polluted face seem'd cleer By which false view my most fond heart became To fall in love most deeply with the same The world indeed did so my wits surprise Its moale-hills seem'd huge mountaines in mine eies But to this casement sense of mine alas Heav'n seem'd a mote oh most deceitfull glasse But these same eyes shall so wide open'd be In hell that I shall heer be forc'd to see How they were once deluded and confesse Heav'n is the mountain earth a moale or lesse Besides my sight shall be tormented most In hell beholding hells infernall host Where I for ever one of them shall view How ugly fiends shall use that hidious crew Lazarus MY sense of sight which in me as the Sun Doth to the world did shew me what was done This sense most cleer when I on earth indur'd Was clouded most by stormes of tears obscur'd And how could I forbeare such showers to see The world in robes and none but rags for me The world in pleasure I in paine and griefe The world in plenty I without reliefe But this my sense or those my very eyes Restor'd my body when it shall arise Above all clouds shall from ecclipse be free'd All tears shall then be wip'd away indeed Then I shall in my body both behold My body more resplendent made then gold And ever view that heav'nly vision sweet Wherein conjoin'd all heav'nly joyes doe meet The Authors Epigram LAzarus on earth by earthly sorrowes driven To loath the earth did lift his eyes to heav'n We upon earth by earthly joyes inchanted Conceive no other heav'nly are not wanted Lazarus in heav'n doth now injoy that mirth Which unto heav'n he look'd for upon earth Our eyes asleep with earthly beauties lul'd Lose the Creator by the creature gul'd Dives on earth with earthly Saints in love Look'd not for objects fairer far above If we here living looke not having sight For heaven we dying shall not then have light But Dives now his cursed soule acquaints In hell with such as here he made his Saints If we hereafter better mates require We must looke here to get acquaintancâ— higher The Authors Petition to the Throne of Grace DIvinest powers thus by your aid inspir'd My restlesse muse with quenchlesse sparkles fir'd Dosts through the world each fragrant garden views And plucks those flowers she thinks most fit to use Thus safely mounted on her hovering wings I taste some sweetnesse of those higher springs Which from the pipes of sacred fountaines flow By oddes more pleasant then the streams below Thus whiles the doter upon earthy toyes Delights in trifles or more earthly joyes My thoughts are towring not downe stooping here I take my pleasure in a higher sphere Thus whiles the worldling night and day is tost To gain that wealth which must againe be lost I reap such gaine as theeves cannot betray Nor time nor fate nor tyrants take away Thus I of wealth in poverty may vant Of mentall wealth though otherwise in want But oh you Authors of divinest thrift Doe you inrich me with some further gift Thus leave me not but give me power to strive To reach a strain beyond contemplative Oh teach my heart doe that in temper bring To strike more fully on the practique string Thus give me power that I my selfe may tread Those active measures I my selfe have made That what I proffer to the publicke view May in my selfe be secretly found true Not thus with sweets fill others hands with posies And in my bosome cankers stead of Roses Not by my lines thus limit out a way For others steps and run my selfe astray But make my action such as in some part May give some life to my unpolish'd art That these my labours so may fruitfull be If not to others yet at least to me And others by that concord sweet invited Shall with the musicke be at least delighted THE PRODIGALL SONNE AND THE PITTIFVLL FATHER The second Booke The prodigall Son MY restles thoughts what move you thus to rome Why rest you not what would you doe from home What doth incite you have you found some prey Worth your adventure that you needs would stray Yes yes rich treasures are abroad no doubt My stragling thoughts have found some jewels out But I am tender travels rough and yet My skill but small for travells much unfit But wherefore should I thus restraine my will I have my portion that shall purchase skill Discreetest Fathers do not much deny We yonger Brothers should our fortunes try Besides my sailes thus fil'd with motion strong Most sweet companions do intice along With earnest proffers of an equall share In treasures pleasures and contentments rare The Pitifull Father MY Son my Son who art to me so neer And whom I tender as a child most dear What worme is crept into thy troubled head Or by what serpent art become misled Whither my child oh whither would'st thou go What is the reason thou would'st leave me so Dost thou suppose it is no griefe to me Thus of a Son to disregarded be Alas my Son thou art too yong indeed To make a venture will such danger breed What favour canst thou looke to find in lands Most strange to thee and at meere strangers hands Strange lands and people and from me as far As Egypt is or Sodoms people were Where thou shalt find thy hopes but mock'd vaine trust For freedome bondage and for fruit but dust The Authors Epigram MOst sinfull sons rebellious we below If that a son such disobedience shew A son too by the woman that is free How desperate must the feed of Hagar be Too venturous children from our Father stray To make our selves unto our fees a prey Our sin a monster but our grace a brat And yet we will be prodigall of that Our tender Father who best knows our frame Our weaknesse sees and warns us of the same We are so wilfull though most weak indeed That we will trust unto our strength that reed Our Father sees what snares abroad are laying And therefore seeks to keep t is in from straying We by the worlds alluring wiles mistooke Suck down the bait suspecting not
feeles it smart The Authors Epigram HArd hearts of ours where nothing will indent At least no faire meanes but are like the flint Whose fire wil by no gentle blowing burn But struck with force will into sparkles turn Is there such marble in our bosomes heel'd As must be hamer'd or it will not yeeld Or in the same such Adamant indeed As cannot be dissolved till we bleed Oh thou most skilfull Alchymist of all Who canst extract pure hony out of gall Oh make thy knowledge here be understood Dissolve this stone thou hast the only blood But were the hardnes of our hearts so great They would not soften yet thou canst creat Then either do thy art of working shew In melting these or making of them new The prodigall Son FAir Phaebus rights darke shut in shop adorning By setting ope the windowes of the morning What glorious objects drest against I rise Prepar'st thou to salute my waking eies Resplendent beauties which do shine so bright Got from beneath the Canopie of night Vouchsafe a blessing from your lips which may Fore-tell successe for the succeeding day You almost Angels may I not adore you Let no displeasure draw a vaile before you Your piercing beauties like Cupids pow'rfull dart Shot through mine eies not wound but warm my heart But what begin you to withdraw your rayes As though black fate envy'd my happy dayes Accurst be the occasion that shall shrow'd Such Suns by day such beauties in a cloud The pitifull Father OH what an endles travell is our care When children borne are yet againe to bear When we welform'd have brought them forth they then Transforme to monsters when they should be men From which prodigious nature to reduce Or change those formes made naturall by use We finde more hard and tedious then the smart Of first producing and more neer the heart So soone as forth the potters hand they fall Oh feeble clay which cannot stand at all And being down have no desire to rise But sleep like swine in most polluted sties But can a child of mine thus blinded keep Or shall I let him thus for ever sleep No let me rather with the rod reprove Correction sometimes doth make way for love The Authors Epigram OH foolish children why are we thus idle Why give we thus our vain desires the bridle Our fancies fond with shadows thus fulfill To lose the substance of our Fathers will Can we account a Fathers kindnes slight Who doth thus tender-fatherly invite Or shall we prize his patrimony poore Who to bestow hath infinit in store No no we cannot but confesse t is known Our Fathers love doth far exceed our own His portions laid up for each child a part Ten thousand times exceed each childs desert What then can move us to neglect so much A Father tender having riches such Who labours thus unto us to convay A state which never never shall decay The prodigall Son OH what a cloud is this which doth appeare Which darkens thus my day which was so cleer Can such a sun-shine be obscur'd so soone Shall night incroch upon my day at noone Late smiling fate beginst thou now to frown As if thou didst intend to throw me down Dost thou who seem'd so sure begin to reele Wilt thou in thy displeasure turne thy wheele Oh you my pleasures and contentments sweet Which did with such most kind imbraces greet Will you now fold your late unfolded armes Becoming churlish who bewitch'd with charmes But you faire faces natures choycesti art Whose tender beauties shew a gentle heart Can you prove cruell do you too seeme nice Will you reject now who did late intice The pitifull Father HArke harke methinks I heare my straved Son Begins to lose the pleasure he had won Those painted outsides of delight begin To let him see they are deceit within Deceit indeed which is but made to shine With the meer drosse and refuse of good coyâ—â— Which worthlesse gilding being worne away It shewes how painted shadowes do betray My blinded child doth now begin to view Those pleasures false he once accounted true And to his shame and sorrow may conclude They did but at the best of all delude But let them mock and more deride him yet Him thus befooling they may teach more wit He on them hath so deeply set his love It will not without violence remove The Authors Epigram OH blinded reason and corrupted stain Of once pure nature now exceeding vain Can we rest captive in this base subjection Thus live in thraldome to untam'd affection We read of strangers and meer bondmen too Who conquer'd passion could that wonder do And shall we children and by birth made free In bondage thus to brutish passion be But shall we then take pleasure in this thrall And count it sweetest liberty off all And will not without violence be freed Oh this is sordid slavery indeed And yet these are the heavy chaâ—â—â—s we beare We gon astray are taken in this snare Within which mill we by deceit made blind Do like most grosse contented Assesgrind The prodigall Son BUt you the objects of my youthfull joy Who thus would try me by your being coy You have my heart then do not thus persist But smile agine you need not be in jeast The fountaine of my love doth overflow Which jeasted at will quickly jealous grow Then be not coy but smile and coole that smart Before it workes combustion in my heart But what still frowne you and yet answer no Can you thus leave me will you gull me so Have I prefer'd you above heav'n oh vaine And will you now require me with disdaine You that have pluck'd the blossomes of my youth Will you with falshood now requite my truth You that have suck'd my fountaine of supply Can you now scorne me having suck'd it dry The pitifull Father So so my Son doth now begin to prove Those courses vaine I told him of in love He thought my counsell then might slighted be But now he findes what I did then fore-see Rash headed youth presuming on their skill Will take their course against their parents will As if they thought their wisedomes were the best Who silly soules with folly are possest My Son upon my Fatherly advice Did turn his back as too severe or nice But now he doth to his confusion find That Fathers see when foolish Sons are blind But as he left me and would have his will So let me let him strugle with it still No meanes doth more reclaime a child resisting Then to be whip'd with cords of his own twisting The Authors Epigram OH thou our God and Father too most just Who gav'st us all our being out of dust And having fram'd us by thy matchles skill Dost like a Father nurse and feed us still How full of wonder finde we all thy deeds And yet thy kindnesse most of all exceeds How could'st thou else so full of pitty be To children so undutifull as
wilt be still a heathen swine Yet know God will be knowne of thee infine If here thou wilt not know him by his works A sin abominated by the Turks If here thou wilt to know him by that spark Now rak'd up in thy conscience yet his marke Nor yet wilt know him by the eye of faith Beleeving what the holy Scripture saith But dost this cloud of witnesses repell Yet God will make thee know him though in hell Yea more then know for thou shalt feel him there And in that den his Deity declare When divells shall torment thee as their owne Because thou here wouldst have no God-head known Thus I have walk'd in an unwonted strain Which some it may be will account as vaine As if I heare by some what went about To bring a truth most manifest in doubt Who is so grosse may some perhaps reply To make a question of the Deity If there be none why should I now begin To make a doubt where none before hath bin Indeed with us where so much light doth shine As if directly underneath the line With us where God so perfectly appears And as it were hath dwelt so many years If there should harbour any here so blinde So dead in sense and stupifi'd in minde As once to harbour Atheisme in thought Therein most hideous treachery were wrought Yet sith we finde that Scripture doth impart Which only can anatomize the heart That such a thought in some hath harbour'd been Yea all men are by nature so unclean Each heart by nature is deceitfull still And every thought continually ill We doubtlesse may though to our shame conclude That Atheisme is in a multitude Especially if duly we propound How meerly naturall multitudes are found Againe besides our nature which hath stood Since Adams fall an enemy to good We have another enemy as great Who hinders good with a more deadly hate The divell that arch enemy indeed To God himselfe to Adam and his seed He seeks by his inscrutible an art To steal no lesse then God out of the heart And to that purpose night and day doth spend Suggesting doubts and questions to that end By which with man he doth too much prevaile Else why did David in that nature faile Who was a man most dear to God we finde And yet the divell trap'd him in that kinde When he did almost in his thoughts complain As if that he had wish'd his hands in vain From whence it must by consequence arise God for the time was taken from his eyes Then if such lofty cedars may be shaken How may the shrubs be in that nature taken Poore creatures who have neither care nor skill To frustrate Sathans working of his will Such fiery darts the divell dayly throwes And at our hearts he doth direct his blowes And I for my part cannot testifie That any living scape them as they fly Only as aged Jesses youngest son For safety did to sanctuary run Where he beheld the wound was hid before And eke got balme to heale his bleeding sore So when we doe the tempters dart discry We may like David to the Temple fly To reading hearing meditate and pray Such fumes as those will drive the fiend away Or as old Jacobs children in distresse When bit with serpents in the wildernesse By only looking on a serpents wing Expel'd the poyson of that bite or sting Even so when Sathan that old serpent stings We may have healing underneath those wings Which Jacobs children in figure view'd To us a Christ in their similitude Thus as the divell daily doth belay To steal our goods to steal our God away God that we should by no means let him go Hath left us means to circumvent that foe And hence proceeds that combate in our breasts The flesh consenting but the soule resists But when the soule submits to carnall sense The divell then gets the preheminence And thou within whose bosome no such strife Or combate hath incumbered thy life The divell sure hath favour'd thee therein Or thou too much infatuated bin But thou that feelst no want at all of aid Thou gavst him here a Paradise indeed But thou wilt give him heaven which doth exceed Yet doe not count this altogether vaine Ther 's no such drosse but may afford some graine The troubl'd soule counts no occasion slight That may assist when it is thus in fight What thou think'st bane may be anothers meat Then what thou like'st not let another eat Though these be hearbs nay weeds out of the wood Yet hearbs nay weeds for many things are good I trust no Colloquintida is here No danger if thy stomack then be clear Lord what is man that thou art so mindfull of him Psal. 8. vers. 4. Desires of Aid MOst Gracious God as then hast lent thy hand To move my heart and to direct my pen In some weake measure thus to understand And make thee understood of other men God only wise almighty pure eternall Without whose mercy man must be infernall So let thy hand Lord be outstretched still To stir my heart that most polluted spring That in that fountaine I may dip my quill And from that depth such secret matter bring As to my selfe may make my selfe appeare That I may seek to make that fountaine clear And as we all doe to our comfort finde That thou of man hast ever mindfull been So let my lines be moving in some kinde That we again may not forget thee then But may for ever as it is our parts Inthrone thee in the centre of our hearts LOrd what is man may well be ask'd of thee None but thine eye can that exactly see Thou gav'st him life when thou hadst given him fashion Thou only therefore canst resolve that question Man peradventure like a butcher may Unmake those walls which thou hast made of clay Rip up mans body open every part Take out his entrails looke into his heart Note every artrie conduit pipe and veine And pâ—y into the Chamber of the brain Tell all his sinewes crushes bones and finde How every member is to other joyn'd Let this be granted as perhaps it may In some imperfect superfices way Yet what can man in this description read Of what man in perfection was indeed Alas in this man doth indeed no more Then as it were unlock the little doore Of some rich cabinet which being done Doth finde it empty all its jewels gone Where being frustate of his Chiefe desire Finds nothing left but only to admire The curious art about that little frame With lively forms yet pictures on the same Even so mans body that same heav'ns device Wherein are lock'd up all our gemmes of price When cruell death once turnes his key about Unlocks the doore and lets those jewels out Mans body straight becomes a trunke bereft Of all its matchlesse treasure empty left And nothing to the searchers eye remains To satisfie his curious eye or pains But only to admire the