much more within My Lifes-bud blasted was with heate of bloud the Flow'r then needs must fade and Fruit decay Nay leaues and Branch haue perisht with the Bud and now the Truncke is turning into Clay Lord how shall I thus soild with Sinne for shame appeare before thy Glory I alas Am but Confusion euer out of frame and was at best ere fully fram'd I was The least of all my Sinnes will be at least a most seuere Accuser but the whole Equall to that which thou dost most detest with but a thought confounds my thoughtfull Soule O Christ thy Wounds renued by my Sinne still bleed to my Confusion for I faint At that which others still are strength'ned in so thy all-sauing bloud doth me but taint Sweete Christ yet be my Iesus though I be thus quite o'er-whelm'd with sins coÌ„founding floud And in thy bloud I shed still rince thou me vntill thine Ire be quenched in thy bloud Yea in thy Wounds as Ionas in the Whale saue me from drowning in thy doomes-profound Let Mercies Beames my filth of sinne exhale and it dispieese that it no more be found So shall I cast on Safeties Shore by thee Still praise thy Grace for so securing me The carefull Soule because of the momentany condition of transitory life desireth to wash away the filth of sin with the teares of continuall penitencie SIth on this moment of fraile Life depends th' eternall weale or woe of humane Breede And that no meanes can long deferre their ends let Teares still feede me Lord till Wormes I feede For Teares for Sin doth Sin through grace destroy so kill their Cause whereon who feeds shall liue Where they that sow in teares shall reape in ioy then let my Teares me dead in Sinne reuiue They were they foode ô Christ that couldst not sin and yet for others sinne still weptst then I That liue a life that 's quite o'erwhelm'd therein had need to weepe till drown'd in teares I dye Happy that Soule that on a Sea of Teares sailes in Faiths Ship by Hopes securest Cape Vnto the Port of Peace and with her beares Good-workes that make the Worker wracke escape This World 's but Sorrowes Sea whereon mankinde is tost with Stormes of Troubles that arise By Enuy Malice or Faâ—es wayward winde whiles Life to Death more swift then Swallow flies If in the way a Calme the Course prolongs it holds vs but to griefe resembling Ioy While Pleasure with her charming Syren-Songs o'erwhelme vs in the end in deep'st annoy Twixt Silla and Charibdâ—s Ioy and Griefes fraile life still floates and wrackes in Eyther oft Which equally to Death betrayeth Life but low estate lesse sinckes then that aloft Why should we then prize worldly things so much which haue no good but as they vs respect And lightly weigh those Treasures without which we haue no Goodnesse but are meere Defect Honor and Pow'r Health Beauty Strength and Wit are but as Smoake that comes from troubled fire The more it growes the lesse continues it and comes to nought whan â—t doth high'st aspire To be in Princes grace which all desires procures but Pride which blindes our Iudgements sight While like a siled Doue we Lord aspire till sou'raigne heate at height doth sinke vs quite Then t is in vaine to trust in Princes grace which pleasure or their profit may procure And when these faile they streight auert their Face but Lord thy Grace is euer free as sure Then let me wholy on thy Grace depend yet so as still I worke it to encrease So it with me shall worke too to the end and at the end with me shall rest in Peace To which deare Lord vouehsafe thy Grace may goe With my toil'd Soule that cannot rest but so A short Meditation of the breuitie of life with an Incitation to make good vse of the present time WOldst thou be spurr'd to run the way of truth then see how time doth run with thee away Youth comes on Childhood Man-hood comes on Youth on Man-hood Ages and Age at Death doth stay So Time ascends and descends with such haste vpon the Scale of Lifes-gradation That liu'd we but to mend our misses past yet death would cease our work ere halfe were done Time-past is gone in it we cannot mend Time-future is vncertaine then therein We are vnsure our ill bents to vnbend the Present-time is ours to cease to sinne Yet that Time ceaseth while we thinke thereon Then if we mend not now now Time is gone A short meditation of Mans Miserie WHat was I am I or what shall I be I was nought am nought and for ought I do Shall be farre worse then nought ô wretched me why was I borne for nought and worser too This makes me to deplore my Day of Birth sith I was borne to so hard exigent As all men doe that doe enioy the Earth yet so enioy it as th' are ne'er content We hold that Infant but a Prodigie that in his Birth doth not the World salute With note of Present-future misery for that 's his Birth-right cleare and absolute In Sinne Originall was I conceiu'd in actuall Sinne I liue and I may taste Eternall paine for that I first receiu'd with that I liue in now and that is past I in the Wombe was loathsome in the World a Sacke of all Corruption in the Graue A Prey of Vermine and may thence be hurl'd to Hell if what Sinne spoyles Grace doe not saue When I was nothing then was I without Hope to be sau'd or Feare condemn'd to be Now of the first I hope but more doe doubt and of the last stand still in ieopardie I was such as I could not then be damn'd but now am such as hardly can be sau'd For at the first I was in cleannesse fram'd but now by me its more then most deprau'd Erect deare Lord my pristrine Puritie correct my present Vices and direct My future steps direct them Sinne to flye and to attaine the Grace of thine Elect So shall I praise thy Name with them and say Blessed be HIM that so inspir'd my Clay That our Saluation comes from God LOrd thou hast said thou mad'st not death theÌ„ let that which thou mad'st not neuer signiorize O'er me that thou hast made but Watches set to keepe death from me when from Death I rise If thou be sory for my Death then who shall let thy Ioy in giuing life to me If thou wilt thou canst saue me I not so I can but dye vnlesse I liue by Thee For I can will but can performe no good nor yet will good without my Will thou moue In thy good-will then lies my liuelihood and yet thou bidst me labour for thy Loue But Lord I cannot if thou help me not that 's make me willing and worke with me too Nor can I moue a Man but I must blot without thee so my Pow'r's but to vndoe For I would sometimes that I can but then I know not
doth play One dyes with Sicknesse Thought another kils With Hunger this with Thirst that man doth pine Some Water choakes an Halter others spils Some Fire consumes some Beasts deuoure in fine This man he murders with the ruthlesse Sword That man with Poyson he doth suffocate With Bullet this that with a bitter Word He ends and others end with worser Fate No Flesh though fram'd in height of Natures skill With composition more then halfe diuine But it is subiect made to death vntill Th' Immortall doe that mortall flesh refine Thus all he ends yet none their ends fore-know A secret t' is to Death himselfe vnknowne Whom he must strike thy finger Lord must show Nor dares he shoot til thou the Mark hast showne To some he is thy mercies Minister To other some the Engine of thy wrath This sadnesse to my Soule doth minister For bleeding Conscience many faintings hath But wash the same with thy sweet mercies dewe And it annoint with vnction spirituall Then health and rest and peace shall straight ensue Which to my Conscience will be cordiall I haue discourst to thine all-hearing Eares My dismall plight in dolefull Elegie With Tragick accents accents causing teares Sad teares attending matchlesse misery Thy pitties Eare therefore bowe downe O Lord To these most pensiue and most iust complaints Let mercies Eyes with pitties Eares accord To chear the conscience that with bleeding faints In hope were of my soule shall rest in peace Till thou vouchsafe to send her full release A Confession of a Sinner acknowledging the misery of humane frailtie CElestiall Lord Creator of this ALL Embracer Prop and Ruler of the same Whose vnseene Eye beholds the generall And singly seest at once this double Frame O vaile that Christall-cleere all-seeing eye On vtter-darknesse that Lord that am I. Mine Intellect is darke darke my soules sight My body darke darke dungeon of my soule Is opposite for darknesse to thy light What can be darker or more vgly foule Thus darknesse striuing much more darke to be Hell being too light infus'd it selfe in me O Iustice Sunne with Taper pointed beames Dart through this Darknesse open loopes for light By which the influence of thy lights leames Through my darke soule may be dispersed quight For what is that which extreame darknes cleares But extreame light of lights when it appeares Where extreame darknesse harbours there is Hell In me deare Lord of Heauen that hell is plac't My heart hard hart wherein all horrors dwell With vexing thoughts like Fiends away doth wast My Conscience quite confounded with my misse Is lowest Hell where highest Anguish is Descend sweet Christ and harrow with thy Crosse This hell of Conscience flee my soule from thence It is thine owne deare Lord it is thy losse If it doe perish through my sinnes offence Why sinne is nothing then for thing of nought Lose not my soule poore purchase dearly boght In Deaths dark shade o'er-shadowed with my sinne Vpon the black pit brinck of deepe Despaire I lye deare Lord halfe out but more halfe in Help help ô help Lord heare Lord heare my prayer Now now ô now if euer help me now I sincke I sincke help ere I sincke too low Remember Lord Lord call to minde againe The drops strange drops of Water mixt with Bloud Which from thy paine-prest Body ranne amaine What time on ground it lay in pensiue moode If then thou praid'st that Cup might passe froÌ„ thee I well may pray let this Cup passe from mee A Cup of cares confected by sowre sinne Baning my Soule with bitter operation Let this Cup passe before I doe beginne Least it effect my crazed soules damnation O thou that felt'st fraile mans infirmitie Respect fraile Me else in despaire I die Whose Faith too like a feather in the winde Is tossed with the least temptations blast With doubtings daunted when the faithfull finde A calme in conscience till such stormes are past But I vile wretch am tossed to and fro With eu'ry Storme that rise or Blast that blow See Lord ah see see see how all my Veynes Do pant with paine through sense of my misdeedes Behold my Heart wherein all sorrow raignes Griefe-wounded heart behold it how it bleedes O poure therein thy precious Balmes of grace That from thy wounded Heart doe runne apace Where 's Much forgiu'n Loue must there be much Forgiue me Much much more shall be my loueâ— I haue Much to forgiue no sinner such My Sinne surmounting Loue shall be aboue Forgiue me then and I in Loue will striue To match that more then Much thou dost forgiue Be thou for me vnto the Old of dayes My Daysman so to stay his angers heate That for thy sake he would vouchsafe to raise His vengeance siege which my Soules wrack doth threat O tel him to his Grace I weakling yeeld And giue him praise and glory of the Field O pray him bend his pu'sance on the proud Whose brazen Necks will rather breake then bowe I creeping on my knees doe seeke for shrowde Till Tempests of his fury ouer-blow And like a Spaniell at his Maisters threat In humble wise fall prostrate at his feete With eyes vp-lifted slowly by degrees And lifted so are throwne downe straight againe With face confounded on his humbled knees Inuoking mercy yet doth mute remaine O so euen so doe I poore wretched I At foote but of his Foote-stoole crowching lye If this may moue and mouing may prouoke Thy sans-beginning Sire in Loue to stay Of his iust vengeance the resistlesse stroke A touch whereof doth Rockes to poâ—der bray I will ascribe the praise ô Christ to thee Sith for thy sake alone he spareth me My strength 's not stony nor my flesh yet brasse O no then weaknesse much more weake it is Apt still to fall more brittle farre then glasse Compos'd of that that 's more then most amisse O how vnable then am I to beare His heauy vengeance stroke that rocks doth teare With hands of Mercie stay my sincking Soule Which were in mercy mercilesly wounded For me vile wretch and for my trespasse foule That Grace might o'er abound where Sin abounded They are not shortned since they racked were For Sinne that Sinne might sinnelesse so appeare With those same hands deare Lord my Soule sustain Opprest with Poâ—se that made thy man-hood grone My load 's as great though farre lesse be my paine Whose sinne 's as great as all the worlds alone Then Worlds of Sin when on my backe I beare What meruell is 't I faint if not despaire Froth of Infirmitie and Weaknesse skumme I am no other how then should I beare The heauy sentence of true Iustice doome If to this Load of Sinne it added were None but a God and Man can beare that waight Sith God Man bow'd vnder-neath that fraight I am farre spent ô be not farre from me I panting labour neere the latest gaspe My Soule dismai'd not knowing where to flee With hands of Hope wan
O let her be repos'd none outherwise then as they fashion her To harbor Thee that 's make her well dispos'd els let her rest be restlesse euer there My Sonne saith thou deare Lord giue me thy heart ô small request my Heart Lord what is it But one poore bit of wormes-meate can no Part of me delight thee but so vile a bit Why thou didst wholy giue thy selfe to me shall I returne thee then but that alone O t is sweet Sauiour most vnworthy Thee for which thou know'st it's meekly wo-begon Yet gladly would I giue it but it is so small vncleane vnquiet and accurst That I doe feare to giue it so amisse sith of all gifts it 's worser than the worst Yet take it Lord of Loue it is thine owne how e'er I haue abus'd it make it such As thou wouldst haue it let it still be knowne fit for thy Stampe vpon thy Trials Touch. O glorious King what grace is 't to our Hearts to be accepted and desir'd of thee Then take my Heart yea all mine other parts for they are safe in thee but lost in me And is this all thy gaine ô kindest Lord and is this all our gift one wretched Heart And for the same dost thou thy selfe afford then take it to thee Lord through ioy or smart For nothing can I giue thee but the same augments my gaine and glory endlesly Then take it wholy set me all on flame to melt me into thee by Charitie For were my Heart as great as is the Heau'n that all includes and that past price it were It should to thee desiring it be giu'n sith I haue thee for it who hast no Peere Then World be silent call it not againe Flesh be as still permit it still to goe And Diuell striue not for it is in vaine my God will haue it then it shall be so Vade vade for all you cannot fill my Heart my God alone can doe it and He must Haue it to fill then from me all depart that seeke to fill it but with winde or dust And sole Sufficer chaine it still to Thee with Adamantine Linckes of endlesse Loue That through those Straites which thou hast past for me it may be drawne to thee if slow it moue Let it attend thee to the Iudgement-Hall where thou wast doom'd to death and to the Hill Whereon thou suffer'dst let it taste thy Gall and on thy Crosse let it be fixed still That be'ing with thee thus plagu'd disgrac'd slaine It may with thee be rais'd and crown'd and raigne A soueraigne Salue against Sinne and Despaire out of S. Augustine DEare Lord when sinfull thoughts doe me assaile to thy deare Wounds then let me hye with speed When burning lust against my thoughts preuaile quench it by minding me how long they bleede In all Extreames I finde no Meane so good as thy wide Wounds to keepe my Soule still whole They cannot dye that drown'd are in thy bloud for that is Aqua vitae to the Soule Thy Death is my desert then doe I not lacke merits sith thy Death destroyes my Sinne Thy Mercy is my merit and my Lot is glories Crowne through my firme hope therein For if thy grace be great then is it cleare my glory shall be great and the more pow'r Thou hast to saue the lesse I ruine feare for Grace abounding makes Loues hope secure Yet I acknowledge mine iniquities and Conscience with her thousand Witnesses Accuse me of extreame impieties yet will I hope of mercy ne'erthelesse For where Sinne hath abounded there hath grace abounded more so loue enflaming in The grieu'd delinquent who doth enterlace sweete teares of Ioy with bitter Teares for Sinne. For who dispaires God vtterly denyes deny his Attributes himselfe deny His Iustice we prouoke his mercies rise but from him selfe who is selfe Clemencie Then let my thoughts still murmure while they will and aske why such a Sinner grace should seeke Yet in firme hope I will continue still sith he hath promised that cannot breake Who can doe what he will and he will doe what he hath sworne which is he will make whole The broken Heart for sinne and grace it too yea help contrition in the willing Soule My Sinnes though great then me no whit dismay when his deare Death I minde for all my Crimes Can ne'er o'er-match his Mercies if I pray for grace to hope in his sure help betimes His Thorny Crowne and Naylâ—s that him transpierc'd assures my hope that He and I are One Which haue his Iudgemeuts gainst my sinnes reuerst if I but grieue for what I haue misdone Longius hath clear'd the sad coast to his Heart with his fell Speare that kinde to me made way There rest I now in Ioy and ioyfull smart of safety sure while there in hope I stay Vpon the Crosse he doth his Armes extend t' embrace the Contrite then betweene those armes Deuoutly will I throw me till mine end so safe I shall be there from foes and harmes He bow'd his Head before Death brake his Heart to kisse his Louers with the kisse of Peace Then still I le kisse him so shall I depart in peace to him that is my Sinnes release Sweet Christ embrace me then and kisse me till I dye to liue to clip and kisse thee still The crazed Soule being almost in dispaire desireth Grace to hope in Gods mercy LOrd in thy Loue let me be none of them that loue but in a Calme a time beleeue But when a Storme ariseth doe blaspheme and with infernall S'prits thy Sp'rit doe grieue Thus what I need I craue but what I feare thou know'st deare Lord I feare I am too bold To seeke thy loue because I doe appeare no correspondence with thy loue to hold For he that merits hate Lord how can he straight looke for loue who hath shame deseru'd Seeke for immortall glory or to be from shame and paine which he deserues preseru'd He moueth but his Iudge to iustest wrath that being faulty lookes he him should cleare Without meete satisfaction for the scath which he hath done all these my hopes doe feare For he that is to shame and death condemn'd small reason hath to looke for high'st respect If but his death by grace might be redeem'd in sense it should be all he could expect But why ô why doe I now call to minde what I haue done to make my feares more rife Death I deserue yet seeke I life to finde that liue but to offend the Lord of life Can I still vexe my Iudge yet looke for grace and still prouoke my King yet seeke his loue Nay still but buffet my sweete Iesus face and yet expect he should my Iesus proue Alas how should he much lesse how can I such fauour seeke that so his Fauour wrongs Can wrong expect such right in equitie ô no for vengeance to the same belongs Vengeance belongs to wrongs so great so plaine as so to wrong a MAIESTIE so