nor those bow nor tother blush the Word is a hammer to breake this rock a peeces a fire to melt it into softnesse a rod to make waters of penitence gush out from it Men stop their eares like the Adder the One they couch to the ground ramme into it store of covetous dirt the Other they close up with their winding tale fill it with carols and rounds of lust Even these Serpents have beene charm'd by the Word 't is heavenly incantations have undeaft them they have danced to the pipe of the Gospell the silver bels of Aaron have ravisht them out of their selves and now no musick to the sweet songs of Sion how unfruitfull a soile is mans soule how barren a peece of earth till the Word distills as the dew upon it and than O the happy fruits of a few drops is the heart malitious no knee can beg a pardon of it as soone wee may calme the Sea when all the windes are in an uproare is it covetous no balme can supple it to pittie none art extract a mite from it is it ambitious and will we stay its careere as well we may stop the lightning is it factious all the harmony of Heaven cannot sing it into peace is it fruitlesse as soone we may plow the waters and expect a crop thence is it hard what meanes can mollifie it what oile here what vineger there Behold the Word drops as the raine upon it as the small raine upon the tender herbe and as the showers upon the grasse straight this flint softens into flesh these jars kisse in a sweet concord this rough Ocean doth cease to rage that Gilboah is cloath'd in Greene where but now no blade was not a leafe of grasse to apparell it as if a new soule were breath'd into him such a change is in the whole man quantum mutatus ab illo Zacheus is mercifull Paul tame as a lambe Ahab puts sackcloth upon his flesh Felix trembles like an Aspen leafe Peter taken from the nets doth catch a thousand and a thousand soules at a draught nay the world is won to the faith not by the Sages of Aegypt but the refuse of Iury the Rabbies with these with those the Magi are master'd by them the words of Fishermen are reade saith Augustine but the necks of Oratours are subdu'd that Romane Chieftaine might not more boast his veni vidi vici than they they conquer'd as many nations as they saw not Ore gladij with the edge of the sword this can but gash the flesh at most make a gappe for the soule to step out at but gladio oris the keene blade of the Word which divides betweene the soule and the spirit no other weapon can pierce so deepe not that fiery one with which the Cherubins kept the passage of Paradice not a heart within these wals but GOD now knocks at it by this Word though not by this onely for Secondly GOD knocks by His Mercies His Mercies A theame for Angels to descant on the sweetest Attribute of the Deitie the alone object of His delight Heaven were as Hell without it and all approach to His Throne Death whom would not Majesty swallow up did not mercy temper it we are consumed with His fires as He is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 a Capitoll of justice but we slie into His bosome as He is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 an Asylum of mercy and the best Sanctuary Hee is nay joyes to be so Tully speakes it of himselfe and take him as the Embleme of a good judge Partes lenitatis misericordi aeque semper egi libenter gravitatis severitatisque personam non appetivi I willingly acted the parts of mildnesse the bent of my nature was this way the Publique good is at stake and the dignity of the Empire to be rescued when I put on the person of severity if GOD strike as our sinnes may force a weapon into His hands He stiles it a strange worke a strange Act Austerity is no consort of His no familiar little acquaintance He hath with it nor glories He to have any etiam justissimis paenis illachrymat as Suetonius of Vespatian he doom'd not to the most just punishment with drie cheekes not like that bloodie Massalla who in one day having strooke off foure thousand heads so Valerius reckons them vaunts it among those piles of carkasses 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 O Act worthy a King no such tyrannie in our GOD of whom all the heavenly Coiristers chaunt it and let us beare a part with them The LORD is gratious and full of compassion slow to anger and of great mercie the LORD is good to all and His tender mercies are above all His workes what above all His workes that starry roofe over our heads and those millions of tapers which burne there this pavement of thy workmanship O LORD we tread on every the least inch of it the whole earth is full of thy goodnesse but doth it reach to that height which to looke on tires the eye by the way that pretious vault wherewith thou hast walled in this inferiour globe Heaven is high nine hundred miles upwards say some five hundred yeares journey say others who have calculated curiously is thy Mercy so can it ore-top this Pyramid He who said it could speake it without an Hyperbole Thy mercy O LORD is in the Heavens Psal. 36. it than equals them for site here but it transcends them there is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 now Thy mercy is great above the heavens Psal. 108. the whole world is a huge to me and volume of these mercies a large Map of them an Abstract and Epitome of all was one Israel they were abrig'd into that litle table one Iacob his portion we have their catalogue drawne up by Moses He kept him as the Apple of his eye he bore him on his wings as an Eagle he gave him the increase of the fields he made him suck honey out of the rocke fed him with butter of kine and milke of sheepe with fat of Lambs and Rams of the breed of Bashan May I speake it to the conscience of every one here who hath not tasted and seene that the LORD is good Psal. 34. 8. whom amongst vs hath He not drawne with the coards of men the bands of love as He did his Owne in Hosea we sit every man under his own vine and beake our selves in the Sun-shine of an Halcion peace the red sea of warre is dried to our feet nor see we the garments roul'd in blood we eate the finest of the wheate flower our presses burst with new wine our garners are full of store our bones of marrow our bellies of GODS hid treasures our vines hang full of clusters our meadowes shoote up their grasse our vallies are covered over with corne they shoote for joy and sing we cannot say as the Prince of the Apostles silver
not stand at our doores Secondly Standâ—ng is a posture of Expectance Gehazi went in and stood before his Master In all likelihood to expect what errand he might have for him what dispatch to imploy him in CHRIST stands here His offers of love He gives not over nor through despaire of prevailing on his owne nor through churlishnesse of repulse on our parts He stands in spight of denials He tries the Sea after may Ship-wracks puts His shoulder more strongly to the loade and beates still at that doore which He never say opened How as in a visible Sampler shines out now the patience of my SAVIOVR the Longanimity of my GOD there is power in His hand He could make an entry by force but there is patience in His heart and therefore He stands if His words can worke upon us Hee will spare His blowes nor will Hee double these if at the first stripe wee cry peccavi GOD in a moment can thunder downe sinne with vengeance and raine fire from the cloudes upon it but if the dewes of His mercy will soften us He will not powre out of the viols of His plagues nor will Hee blow the trumpet to warre without a parlee or wee refuse the often proffers of a happy peace Every Story is a Chronicle of this truth and the whole world the practise nor need I bee bankrupt of instances One Israel is able to furnish mee observe the degrees of their obstinacy what a climax there is in it I have spread out my hands all the day to a rebellious people the whole day beate it out to its utmost dimensions I wrestle with them by my bounty and gaine not but what say you to yeares a long lease of them Forty yeares long was I greeved with this generation and said it is a people that doe erre c. In halfe the time I could have greeved every veine of their hearts so long they grieve my soule and I am patient would man bee so to his brother when an injury heats his blood but my plea against these is from their very cradle and first stone of their city The children of Israel and the children of Iudah have onely done evill before mee from their youth up And this cittie hath beene to mee a provocation of my anger and fury from the day that they built it where is that Plato now whose cheekes choler never died where that Socrates who never spake stormes but smiles not when Zantippe comes like a tempest upon him where that Iob who entangled in so many Labyrinths of woes in those windings lost not his patience nor himselfe the patience of man may bee great but matcht with GODS how small a drop is it to that Ocean How weake a glimmering to that Sun How faint a beating to that life write it on the tablets of your hearts and set it up as a trophee of his due praise GOD onely is patient at the evils and gratious unto the sinnes of men O that spiders should sucke venome out of so sweete a flower or because hee is not quick with them Atheists say He is slack and aske in scorne Where is the promise of His comming not to wander after these ignes fatui CHRIST Hee stands at our doores as yet will He doe alwaies so the Sunne that shines will it never sit the day is cleare may not a cloud black it GODS jealousie is not quickly incenst but if once kindled will all the rivers of the South quench it bee wise than and before wrath come forth and burne like fire have teares of Penitence in store to quench it whilst it is day worke when GOD cals speake whilst He stands open He who stands now may be gone especially if he stand without a covert in the street at the doore which is my second generall the Place Behold I stand at the doore If some Grandee of the State stood there if some magnifico swolne with titles would we not hast to open and thinke such a presence an honour to us this wee would doe to the Nimrods of the world and Peeres of the earth Behold One is here to whom the greatest Monarch is more base than the basest Boare to the greatest Monarch one who knocks importunately why shut wee Him out why are docres blockt up against Him O our lunacy and madnesse Satan angles for us vvith a baite of honours wee are caught the world as pleasingly gives us the musicke of gaine wee are charm'd the flesh unvailes a beauty a peece of clay more handsomely attired vvee burne Riches are but the garbage of the earth we dig into its entrals for them pleasures are but a flower garish to the eye soone vvithered Our sences are captivated with their smell Dignities as Saint Augustine censures them are but a light fume a breath of the chops a fleshly paire of bellowes vvee are hot in the sent of these and for all keepe open house CHRIST in respect of whom and those endowments He brings with Him all things else as Plato stampes them are 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 nothing and nothing worth He sues as in the Canticles Open unto mee my Love my Sister my Vndefiled Open the doore of thy soule O my unspotted Church let me come and dwell with thee in my Graces here wee or coine excuses for delay as the Spouse now I have put off my coate how shall I put it on I have washed my feet how shall I defile them or wee out Him into our stables with the Bethlemites anon as having no roome in the Inne of our hearts for Him CHRIST yet but in the closet of our hearts will take up no lodging in us and to this the doore alludes here so runs the streame of Expositors not the doores of our lips we are bid open though these too but the doore of our hearts GOD askes the roote of this not the rinde and shell of those My Sonne give me thy heart not thy wisedome for all the treasures of it are in my selfe not thy wealth for the earth is mine and the fullnesse thereof not thy greatnesse for 't is I who make to inherit the throne of glory not an outside a plausible varnish of devotion the eye glotted up to Heaven the knee kissing the earth the hand martyring the breast a talent of talke without a mite of charity but thy Heart Aeschines brought the best guift who gave himselfe to his Master and Socrates priz'd it above the costlier presents of his other Schollers thy heart is a jewell give it to thy GOD this small pibble is of more worth vvith him than vvhole rocks of Diamonds this one living stone than the quarries of the vast world all thy offerings are but Sacriledges and Sorceries without it all thy front of holinesse but dawbe and morter all is not man-hood that lookes big and spits fire as it speakes nor is all beautie vvhich the sumptuous art of a trimming sets
THE Royall Guest OR A SERMON PREACHED AT LENT Assises Anno Dom. M.DC.XXXVI At the Cathedrall of SARVM being the first Sunday of Lent before S r. IOHN FINCH and S r. JOHN DENHAM His Majesties Justices of Assise By THOMAS DRANT of Shaston in Com. Dorset LONDON Printed by G. M. for Walter Hammond and are to be sold by Michael Sparke in Greene-Arbour 1637. TO THE WORSHIPFVLL PETER BALL ESQVIRE Recorder of the famous Citie of EXON health in this life true happinesse in the life to come SIR I Might Preface to you with Reasons of this Dedication or with Apologies You are a stranger to me nec beneficio nec injuria cognitus Onely I affect to be knowne unto you this is motive enough nor pleade I other excuse What your eares grac't with a liking in the passage these sheetes speake to your eyes but more standingly my hopes are blest if I please both sences Your applause as 't is tradition'd me was full and liberall much above the worth of these thoughts I silence the causes made them Publique that makes them Yours and candor 't is I honour more than greatnesse in a Patron I owe your love an acknowledgement deeds were little enough to expresse it but my aimes are crown'd if by your Pardon or Acceptance this so small Booke professione pietatis aut laudatus erit aut excusatus Farre-well Worthy Sir Shaston Decimo Sexto Kalendarum Aprilis Yours in all services gladly devoted THOMAS DRANT The Royall Guest REVELAT 3. VER 20. Behold I stand at the doore and Knock. WEE meete here a Royall Guest who enstated in all the Royalties of Heaven yet sues for a welcome on earth and wee have him in my Text. First for Posture Standing I stand Secondly for Place At the doore I stand at the doore Thirdly for Action Knocking I stand at the doore and Knocke. Behold I stand at the doore and Knocke. These are the severall Branches the bodie of this Text spreads into where doe perch on every sprigg Wonder and Mercy Wonder that GOD who is all Glory should come downe unto man who is all vilenesse Mercy that Man who is a foule ragge of uncleanenesse should be made a temple for GOD to dwell in who is all Holy GOD and man were at distance but now nay at odds nay at feud if ever any happy is that union which brings them under one roofe to one table this is marveilous in our eyes and therefore chain'd in with an Ecce here Behold I stand at the doore and Knocke. Behold is a word of Emphasis and Energie if this Starre stand ore the house a JESVS is within nor points this hand in the Margin but there 's juice and substance in the Text Some of ranke are in the Palace where this Porter keeps the gate and fruits not to be plucked rudely in that Paradice where this Cherube guardes the entry where Ecce is written on the box be sure the ointment's precious something of weight and moment doth march in the reare if Behold leades up the front and as the Baptist in Sacred Writ prepares the way to it 't is so here GOD bowes the Heavens and comes downe among men nor comes he arm'd with thunders cloath'd with Majesty darkenesse being his pavilion about him as to Israel on Mount Sinay So to come would strike terrour in all hearts nor comes he as sometime he came into his Sanctuary where the Singers went before the plaiers of instruments followed after among them were the Damosels playing with timbrels thus to come would be a pleasant object to all eyes He comes here forma pauperis as a Mendicant who begs an almes for GODS sake He breakes not into our roomes but stands at our doores at whose least breath the gates of hell flie open and the barres of iron burst in peeces here is patience and humility to a miracle and both stamped with an Ecce Behold I Stand c. Nay not a word here but this dash of the HOLY GHOSTS quill the impression of this character is due unto it First I it were enough were I a guardian Angell to some Monarch below if one from the Sacred Quire of the Prophets if the least among those feathered Hierarchies above but I the Prince of peace the King of glory the LORD Paramount of Heaven and Earth Secondly I stand I sit not in my chaire of state I leane not on a cushion of ease I roule not on beds of violets and strewings of rose-buds but I stand and this posture of mine speakes as my readinesse to enter so my patience to awaite it Thirdly I Stand at the doore not in the Hall where the warmth of a fire might cheere me not in the chamber where I might rest my limbes on a couch of Ivory but at the doore without shelter or penthouse where the drislie sleete chils and the stormie tempest beates upon me where my head is is fil'd with the dew and my lecks defil'd with the drops of the night Fourthly I stand at the doore and Knocke. I stand not at the doore as the harlot sate at hers in the Proverbs to tole in gaine and enamour the passinger to folly nor stand I as those Sodomites who thronged about the dores of Lot to shed that blood which bedewes the earth and with its shreekes awakens Heaven to vengeance I stand not with my hands in my bosome or my armes enfolded together or to gaze about me as those Idlers in the Market-place but I stand to knocke nor give I a rappe and away as a Post that flieth by but as 't is a peece of my devoire to gaine an entry so I stand to it if by any meanes they will open to mee and their owne happinesse Behold I stand at the doore and Knocke. Now O LORD what is Man though retinu'de with all the pompe of greatnesse what the Sonnes of men those who move in the highest Orbes what the whole Series and descent of them even theirs whose blood flowes from the noblest veines What the whole cluster and bunch of mankinde that so mighty a GOD at whose persence the Heavens droppe out of whose mouth coales of fire devoure whose voice rents the rockes and discovers the forrests that hee should stand at our doores and knock How many roundes of wonder in this one Ladder in this one chaine how many linkes of Miracle what wedges of gold in this rich Minerall I shall digg for some and one pretious ingot I light on at the very head of this Mine 't is the partie who stands at our doore implied in the Greeke 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 exprest in our English I the Guest himselfe I stand I who I who stretch out the Heavens like a curtaine and againe make a sack their covering and shall shrivell them up as a parched scroule at the last day I who ride upon a Cherube and flie who flie upon the wings of the winde