Life a Life so poor and mean A Life so larded with sad grief and pain As if his mortal foe a man would curse All his invention could not wish him worse Then I am now then I am I sad I Who that I may be sadder must not dye Lord how my Sighs with force ingeminate Pump up whole floods of Tears which when I eat Are now the only Sawces to my Meat For from my Eyes these as from Water-spout Like Rain swoln Torrents issue always out Then let me dye O let me quickly dye As others do and not so cruelly Be forc'd thus to survive my Losse and see Under the Heavens no sinful man like me No sinful man no none of all that Race So much opprest as I am none alace Of Heavens foes suffering so much as I Who liv'd by th' Laws and Rules of Piety As I who always studied to shun Those Courses which a many Mortals run As I who always shunn'd to give occasion To my indeed kind God of provocation But now I plainly see my former Zeal And Piety could not with him prevail T' avert this blow no no my clouds of Prayers Are now dissolv'd in deluges of Tears And I must suffer now what never man Endur'd before me since the world began Indeed in th' affluence of my former bless I still would fear this sad Catastasis And these same thoughts did so my Spirit seize As in the night time my o're wearied eyes Had little sleep for I could ne're endure In all my prosp'rous time to live secure As some who on their earthly Blessings rest Which makes me so uneasily dâ—gest My present troubles O then let me dye For since alace my â—eal and Piety My Prayers my Tears my daily Offerings Could not prevent my present Sufferings How should I think they can me extricate Out of this sad and miscrable state Then let me dye O let me dye again I beg it Lord let me be out of pain At any rate let not thy dreadful wrath Deprive me of the benefit of death As it has done of all things here below Nâ— my good God permit it not for so I shall in horrour live and possibly After long sufferings in despair shall dye O let me dye then for thy mercies sake Lord let me dye and force me not to take Those resolutions which some other men Would take if in such misery and pain Burst then poor heart O split burst speedily That I may have the happiness to dye To dye and then I know my Makers wrath For all this will be by my single death Quickly appeas'd and in the grave I shall Rest sweetly free of troubles after all O death what mortal can thy worth esteem Who 's he can thy intrinsick value name All states of life are daily to be sold But thou death art not to be had for gold Though th' world of life but one great mercat be Yet all 's bought up and there 's none left for me But that which even mad men would abhor Then why should I this life keep any more This life this hellish life O now kind death Ease me of this and take my parting Breath Then burst sad heart what cannot all my Art Be able yet to burst one broken heart Yes sure burst quickly let me quickly dye And in this ugly â—â—unghill where I lye Let me be buryed but my Friends take heed My Body with much earth be covered Under a heap of stones lest Labouring Men Digging this Dung hill in the Season when They dung their grounds should find my Carcass here For if uncovered will infect the Air. PART II. Cap. IV. JOB having thus attempted to express That inward grief which did his Soul oppress One of his three Friends Eliphaz by name Did him thus tartly for his passion blame Should we says he with thee expostulate And on the matter enter in debate We see the heat of thy impatience Is such as our discourse may give offâ—nce Yet though thou should st be vext and curse us all As thou hast done thy birth-day nothing shall Make us forget our duty for reprove The errors of a man we so much love We must indeed then pray who can forbear To answer thee when such discourse we hear Of thy great zeal and piety of late Thy grace thy virtue and I know not what By which thou'd make us think forsooth that he Who cannot act unjusâ—ly punish'd thee Without a fault preceeding very fair Pray who with patience can such language hear Should in our hearing one of God complain Unjustly and from answerâ—ng we abstain No no my friend we came not here indeed To hear thee in thy Passions exceed The rage of mad-men or allow thee so To cry and overact a man of woe For shame how mean a thing it is to see Thy mind thus discompos'd that such as thee Whose eminent prudence virtue piety And long experience o' th' worlds vanity We thought had taught thee to know better things That such as thee in foolish murmurings Should bluster thus Thou who didst others in affliction teach How to behave would to them patience preach And how with crosses they should be content Thy self to become thus impatient Thou who in troubles others hast restor'd Canst thou no comfort to thy self afford Others thou'd check when in Adversity As thou dost now they 'd passionately cry And curse their Birth-day as thou now hast done Afflictions at length are come upon Thy self and thou art griev'd it toucheth thee I' th' quick and thou art all in flames we see Where 's now thy fear of God thy confidence In him thy Uprightness thy Patience Where are those Virtues now what are they fled At such time as thou most of them hast need Why should'st my friend like mad-man then cry out In view of all thy Neighbours round about And set out thy condition with such Art As if without cause thou afflicted wer 't Have not thy sins call'd for thy punishment Prethee forbear then this thy vain Complaint Who ever perish'd being Innocent Pray call to mind how thou hast liv'd before As other sinners and complain no more Revise the Annals of thy former time And thou wilt surely find the hidden Crime For which we all of us perceive indeed Thou now art most severely punished Consider this pray and without debate Thou 'lt not so with thy God expostulate He acts according to most upright Laws And punishes no man without a Cause But I 've observ'd that Antecedent sin How slow soever still doth usher in Punishment to it self proportionate Which still attends the sinner soon or late So in his Judgement on his sins may read And see the Cause from whence his woes proceed For I have often seen that such as Plow Your heathy Ground and corrupt Seed do Sow For all their Labours when their Harvest came They'd Reap no other but the very same Vain men who
Why shouldst then be at so much pains good Lord To kill a thing which of its own accord Will quickly dye a thing that by thy Wrath As yet deny'd the liberty of Death Doth only some small sparks of Life retain And like a Dying Creature breaths with pain One entire Ulcer a meer lump of Boyls A heap of Sores one loaden with the Spoiles Of all Diseases one so fully spent In Body and in Mind so discontent No pleasure which the World affords can hire My Soul to Live pray let me now expire Or else I fear that through impatience Of my afflictions I may give offence For when I say my Couch shall me relieve And in my Bed I shall some comfort have When I imagine I may find some ease In-sleep to cull the edge of my Disease When I suppose I may find Consolation I' th' pleasure of a few hours Meditation And whilst on Pillow I my Head do lay To sleep away the sorrows of the day Then dost thou put my Soul all in a fright With fearful Dreams and Visions of the night In a cold sweat I lye my Flesh and Bones My Joints and Sinews tremble all at once Strugling with pain upon my Bed I rowl Whilst horrid Objects do night-mare my Soul And to my troubled fancie represent What neither Tongue can speak or hard can paint Hells Terrors plainlie are to me reveal'd Whilst with amusing sleep my Eyes are sealâ—d On which reflecting when I do awake Fear damps my Soul and makes my Body shake Hence Drowning Smothering Strangling of the Breath Or any of the numerous kinds of Death My Soul to Life prefers my generous Soul Abhorrs to live in such a lurking hole As is this body such a vile Hog-sty A Brutish Soul would even disdain to ly Within its Walls a Cottage so unclean So Cob web-furnish'd so obscure and mean As none but one of Life that 's wearyed In such a villanous Cave would lay his bed What Soul so poor and mean exceeding but The small Dimensions of a Hazel nut Would stoop so low as condescend to dwell In such an ugly smelling nasty Cell As is this body which I do call mine So thin the Sun doth clearly through it shine Is this a Lodging for a Thing Divine A tottering Fabrick which the rotten Bones Not able to support down all at once Will quickly fall is this a dwelling place For any thing come of a Heavenly Race No no fly hence my Soul fly hence make haste Why dost not fly for such a Noble Guest There 's here no room no fit Accomodation This body can afford no Habitation For such as thee Dear Soul O let me dy then let me dy good Lord O let me dy Death surely will afford Such comfort as I here expect in vain Why should I live then in such grievous pain And as a mark to all sad torments stand When pitying Death doth offer help at hand In this condition I do do life abhorr I baâ—e it and shall never love it more What should I for a few hours breathing give For 't is impossible I can longer live O spare me then for some small time at least That these o re wearyed bones may have some rest And in this life I may find ease before I take my Journey hence and be no more E're I be wrapp'd up in Eternity For all my days are but meer vanity Then what is Man that thou shouldst look upon him This wretched thing that thou shouldst so much own him Thou dost thy heart too much upon him set Which makes the silly Toad it self forget Valuing it self so much on thy esteem As it hath purchas'd to its self a name Beyond the other Creatures of thy hand Whereas if it it self did understand 'T is but as dust that 'fore the Wind doth fly A passing thought th' abstract of vanity Since thou canst then Lord by one word destroy This Creature why shouldst so much time employ In Torturing of it thus once and again And not by one blow put me out of pain One blow of favour Lord I do implore Kill me and then I shall complain no more But still I cannot fancy why shouldst thou Before whom all in Heavens and Earth do bow Have this same Creature Man in such esteem This flying Shade this passage of a Dream A thing so mean not worth thy Observation Why should'st allow it so much Reputation That thou the great Creator every day Shouldst of this pismire make so strict survey How long Lord shall I in these Torments lye â— Ah is there no end of my Misery Some respite Lord I beg I do request Some breathing time even so long time at least Free from these pains as I may swallow down My Spittle Oh good God let me alone But for a Moment that I may but try Thy goodness once again before I Dye Lord I have sinn'd 't is true I do confess My Error and my black unrighteousness What shall I do how shall I answer find To thee the great preserver of Mankind As worst of sinners Lord thou dost me treat For as my Sins so are my Judgements great Th' hast set me gainst thee as a Mark or Butt At which thy pointed Arrows thou dost shoot With Torments hast me so o'reloadened That long ago of Life I 'm wearied Why should thy wrath continually burn 'Gainst a poor sinner O let Grace return Pardon my sins wash from iniquity The Soul thou gavst me Lord before I dye Let me of Mercy hear the joyful sound For in an instant I shall not be found I dye I dye my Passing Bell doth Toul Have Mercy Lord have Mercy on my Soul Cap. VIII THus have we seen how Job with grief opprest By night and day has in his Mind no rest In this sad case with great impatience Appears to quarrel even Providence For those his Friends of whom he did expect Some Comfort rather sharplie did him check For th' Errors of his Life and openly Reprov'd him for his gross Hypocrisie We 've seen with how much Art and Eloquence One of his friends has given evidence Against him now another undertakes Th' argument and thus he answer makes How long sayes he friend wilt thou thus exclaim Against that justice which the Heavens did frame To what do all thy imprecations tend What means this clamour shall there be no end Of this thy idle talking shall we be Oblig'd to hear what none but such as thee Would stammer out what one in sober case Would be asham'd to speak such words as these Which thou in foolish passion hast us'd Against our God would hardly be excus'd Out of a mad-mans mouth but when they flow From such as thee friend whom we all do know To be of more than ordinary Sense We must condemn thy gross impatience Dost ' think that God whose great and mighty Name All things Created dayly do
infus'd As by their Clients they are kindly as'd But when God speaks a suddain fear shall fall Upon those Preachers and confound them all For when he speaks he 'l tell you in your face You have provock'd him and abus'd his Grace He gave you Parts 't is true and Eloquence But never mean't that you in his defence Should use those Gifts or offer to debate For him unless you were commissionat By special warrant from himself for those Who in Enthusiastick fits suppose Men of all stations and degrees may preach And silly women if they please may teach Those who like you all others do despise And thinks there 's no man holy in their eyes But such as are of their opinion say They 're only perfect walk in Gods own way Sure these men grossly err for God doth own No such presumption and it is well known God in all ages doth such men select As he thinks fit should by commission speak For him to th' people and will sure destroy Those preaching fools whom he doth not employ Then you my friends must know that having spoke For him without commission you have broke His divine Statutes and in Heavens Court Incurr'd a premunire to be short For this your great presumption your name Shall be extinguish'd and your race for shame Shall shun mens converse this at length shall be The profit of such actings this the fee Of those officiously who undertake Without commission for their God to speak Then pray now from your foolish arguing cease And while I speak be pleas'd to hold your peace Forbear your talk for some time and be still For I intend to speak come out what will Come out what will I 'l speak I 'l boldly speak And to my Maker my discourse direct I 'l say Lord why am I thus punished Thus cudgell'd stead of being comforted Thus sharply tax'd by three comforting men As if without a cause I did complain Good Lord that I should be reprov'd by those Who if they felt the tenth part of my woes Would instantlie cry out and make a noise Using such faint expressions as Boys When whipp'd at Schools such as if they did feel What I endure would stagger foam and reel Like mad men such as if they knew the careâ— And grief I know would instantlie despair Yet such forsooth must censure me good Lord That those my friends who comfort should afford To me in this condition when they see What are my plagues and what my torments be By signs so manifest so plain and clear As when for pain my very flesh I tear When all o'r grown with Ulcers all o'r run With putria sores contemptible undone I here on Danghill sit and fain would crie To thee my God if I had libertie And were not interrupted by those men Who by me sit thou know'st O Lord how fain In private I 'd pour out my very Soul If those men who 've come hither to condole My sad condition as they do pretend Did not obstruct me how I fain would spend The small remainder of my troubled days In pious sighs and setting out thy praise By what I have observ'd and heard by fame From others since first to this world I came How fain I 'd pray how fain my sins bemoan If those tormenters would let me alone It seems indeed Lord thou design'st to make My case extreamlie sad for this I take As not the least part of my punishment That thou to me such comforters hath sent Yet Lord I 'l still apply to thee I know There is no other comfort here below Compassion pitie mercie there is none But what proceeds from thee good God alone I 'l therefore trust in thee in thee good Lord I 'l onlie trust I 'l hope and in a word Do with me what thou wilt let even thy wrath Be satisfi'd with no less than my death Yes kill me Lord cut me to pieces do As thou thinks't fit yet here I firmlie vow This heart this poor oppressed heart shall never Deviat from it's love to thee what ever Come of my person nay even when I die In my last gasping breath I 'l formallie Express my love to thee in thee I 'l trust My gracious Maker for as thou art just So thou art merciful besides good Lord I know thou only comfort can'st afford To men afflicted let me then be freed Of my officious friends who boldlie plead Against me ' stead of comforting for I Esteem my greatest woe their company I do indeed for I had rather choose Be plagu'd by thee then comforted by those Now Lord to them though I will not confess My sinful errors yet my wickedness Before thee I acknowledge as the cause Of all my woes Lord I have broke thy Laws And merit no less censure in thy sight Than instantly to be destroy'd down-right But after all I know O Lord that thou Wilt use me better than these talkers do Thou 'lt be more kind and whilst I am in pain For some small time allow me to complain And then restore me to my strength again For after all this trial thou shalt clear My innocence and make at length appear That I in sin have taken no delite And show these men I am no hypocrite Now then my friends observe be pleas'd to hear What I discourse For seriouslie I fear In all your talk of late you have abus'd Your selves more than the man you have accus'd For you have said because of my offence That I 'm by God rejected and from thence You did affirm I might expect no more To see his face as I had done before Ay me a sentence cruel and severe A doom in which great malice doth appear Now pray my friends by what authoritie Act you these things who gave you libertie To give out Judgment thus for to this hour I never heard that any of you had power From our Great God to excommunicat The poorest Wretch on Earth I therefore hope I quicklie shall be able To make appear how most unwarrantable Your sentence is for this I surelie know As God excels in acts of justice so In acts of mercy he doth so abound As no man needs despair he 's always found Of such as seek him and I know he 'l be As merciful as formerlie to me But were it so my friends as you have said That I 'm of God rejected then indeed Indeed in that case I should soon despair And be o' th' same opinion as you are Nor should you from my mouth hereafter hear Words of assurance words of confidence By which I do alleviat my sense Of present sufferings for I firmly know I know my God hath not determin'd so As you alledge I know he is more just Than to reject a man that puts his trust In him alone a man who never yet In all his sad and suffering estate From his first Principles has deviat For I do still believe that God
undoubtedly Which of us have most erreà they or I Whilst I my self no other way defend But by those tears which from my eyes descend By which to God my cause I recommend Yet would to God that one in my estate As with his Neighbour freely might debate With his Creator then would I demand For what sad misdemeanours doth the hand Of God thus ly upon me why alace Am I in such a lamentable case Is it because the season of my years Proper for such afflictions appears And that the strength and vigour of my age Seems able with such tortures to engage Why be it so yet after all alace Me thinks my God should now extend some grace And not for ever show an angry face Yea sure me thinks he should some pity have Now when I am even stepping to my Grave For oh My time appointed quickly shall run out My years shall vanish soon and then I doubt Some friend will kindly drop a tear and mourn For one who goes whence he shall not return Cap. XVII MY Lungs are wasted and I find my breath Is corrupt and has now the scent of Death The current of my Life is now run out And when on all hands I do look about I find there 's no way how I can escape The Grave for every spot of Earth doth gape For this poor Carrion and I wish it were Fairly interr'd and not i' th' open air Expos'd to be the Food and daily Fare Of Beasts and Birds of prey I drop into the Grave I breath with pain And nothing of a man doth now remain But some small reason and a voice that 's shrunk Into the accent of a hollow Trunk Yet in this sad condition fain would I Expect the good hour wherein I must dye I 'd fain resign my breath and trindle hence With satisfaction that my innocence Though question'd here is to my Maker known And I must make account to him alone Fain would I in the Grave ly down and rest My wearied Bones where I might find at least After so many pains and sorrows ease But these men will not let me dy in peace For stead of comfort in this exigent With bitter words they do my Soul torment Were any of those men now in my case How would they take it pray if in their face While they were dying one should them upbraid And call them Hypocrites I am afraid For all their fair pretended patience Were they but conscious of their innocence And in such sad distress as I am now Their warm Religion and their Morals too In such a case would have enough ado To curb just Indignation which no doubt As well as mine would suddainly burst out Sure they 'd complain and tax th' Upbraiders too Oâ— Barbarous unkind Usage as I now Do them for their harsh dealing thus with one Whose Innocence even to themselves is known For no so Sauvage Nation ever yet Allowed that dying men at such a rate Should be insulted but most courteouslie Have still indulg'd to such the Libertie To use their own Devotions and die Yet this to me my unkind Friends deny Since things are so with these I 'le no more speak But to th' Almighty I 'le my speech direct I must a little with my God debate With my Good God I must the question state For I perceive let me say what I can My case cannot be understood by man I will debate with God then Say Good Lord Wilt thou to me this liberty afford Wilt thou with me join issue in the case And let us argue frreely face to face As one doth with another here below And plead th' affair in open Court if so Be pleas'd to put in surety for that end Now who'll baâ—l God as one would do his Friend Go to then since I must debate my case With God who understands it not with these Who neither understands it nor will be By all that I can speak inform'd by me First then my God let these say what they will I lay it as a solid Principle That though when sins of wicked men do cry To Heavens for justice on whom by and by Thou send'st thy numerous Plagues in troops abroad And put'st those wretches under thy blackrod Yet those are not the only men whom thou Appoin't'st for sorrow but to just men too Sad tokens are of thy displeasure sent By way of Trial not of Punishment For I denie â—oâ— but Afflictions are The just rewards of sin nor will I dare T' aver the contrâ—â— Yet O Lord I know Oft times thou dost afflict thy own that so Thou mayst by humbling of 'em let them see How much all Mankind should depend on thee Who all things hast created and can'st send Judgments or Mercies where thou dost intend And yet when thou dost Good Men persecute Thou dost not mark them as without dispute Men who deserv'd such usage at thy hand No certainly for none who understand The method which thy Divine Providence Doth use with men and what 's the difference Betwixt a Trial and a Punishment Will make up such an unkind Argument As these out of my sad afflictions do But notwithstanding all my plagues allow I am not yet so guilty as those men By very Strength of Rhetorick would fain Perswade me to believe whilst they assert As a firm Axiom and by rules of art Argue it boldly that no man can be Afflicted by the hand of God but he Whose sins are horrid and abominable A strange opinion an intolerable And impudent assertion such as none Who have regard to their own Souls would own What! thus to circumscribe th' Almighty God! As if he should not use his angry rod On any but his open enimies In mâ—er revenge and not his own chastise To keep them in their duty this indeed Is Doctrine no way to be suffered Poor inconsiderat Fools they 'l not allow That priviledge to God which Mortals do Freely enjoy without impediment For should one now retort their argument Upon themselves and seriously check Those knowing persons when they do correct With loving stripes those of their Family Whom they do most esteem then by and by They'd tell us what they do is not revenge Hatred or Wrath but Love and yet 't is strange They should assert that God afflicteth none But those he hates Thus I perceive then Lord th' hast hid from these The true and genuine meaning of my case But Lord I know all comes alike to all And thou in Wisdom lets thy Judgments fall On just and sinful men promisâ—uously And wilt not show the world a reason why Thou thus dost act that so both good and bad May know thy Mighty Hand and be afraid T' incur the hazard of thy hot displeasure When thou demonstâ—ates to 'em with what measure Thou fadom'st all mens actions for as thou Where wrath is merited wilt not allow The party punish'd should plead innocent And say thou' rt
to dye Nor should I offer to expostulate ' And with my Maker enter in debate Is there an Umpire to oblige us both And tye us by Subscription and Oath To stand to his award for who is he Dares arbitrate betwixt my God and me But let him hold a little and at least For some small time forbear at my request To torture me let him withdraw his Rod And let th' hot Pincers of an angry God Piece-meal my Soul no more O let his wrath Be satisfied with a single death Then would I boldly speak and without fear Before him in my own defence appear Then would I argue with such Eloquence As in short time would clear my Innocence But 'cause at present I am not in case For speaking I think fit to hold my peace Cap. X. MY Soul 's cut off and though I seem to breath Yet am I coop'd up in the jaws of death My Soul is fled my days of life are gone And this poor widow'd Body left alone To be the subject of some country fable As in its ruines only memorable This fashion'd piece of Earth which formerly One would ha' thought would shift Mortality For many years a Body which of late In health and vigour fully animate With a most cheerful Soul seem'd to imply As if at least some small felicity Were to be found below the Heavens this point Of the Creation framed joint by joint Into a reasonable shape at last By griefs consuming fury quite defac't Has now no figure but doth every day Like Wax before the Candle melt away For as a stranded Vessel by no hands To be got off and sticking on the Sands Obnoxious to the rage of every Tide Whilst each rude Wave beats ribs out of its side In its dimensions every day decreases Until at length 't is shattered all to pieces And then what was a statelie Ship before In Planks and Boards is cast upon the Shore So this frail Body which in health and strength Look'd like a tall Ship in its Course at length Stranding upon the Shelves of foul diseases In its proportion every hour decreases And that it may be ruin'd with dispatch Each ulcerous Billow doth large Gobbets snatch Out of that vigorous Body which alace Is now in a most despicable case Hence what remains is that this shattered frame Void of all honour beautie shape and name Should like infected Goods by no man own'd In Skin and Bones be hurried under ground Then what is Life O let me but admire What idle expectation can hire Insipid man upon this Earth to dwell And love that thing which we call Life so well Life like the Mornings-dew upon the Grass Exhal'd e're Noon-tide Life a simple lease At will and pleasure of a homelie Farm For us to toile in where we 're hardly warm In the possession of it when anon Our Lease runs out and we must all be gone Life but the parcels of a few years breath Summ'd up at last i' th capital of death Times wast-book health and strengths extinguisher Heavens great derider Hells remembrancer The old mans profit and the young mans loss The rich mans Idol and the poor mans cross Sins active Pander for some little space Then to Repentancea sad looking glass Pleasures mean vassal times obedient â—alve And a most faithful servant to the Grave Death charges Time Time charges Life by Roll To make account of every living Soul The grand Collector by just calculation Himself discharges of each Generation In deaths exchequer then begins afresh T' exact the impost of all living flesh This is that we call Life this is the thing Of which poor Mortals make such reckoning As if the sum of all their happiness Lay in their breathing for some little space Alace that men of reason thus should lye Sick of an universal phrenesie And not rouz'd up at length perceive for shame What is this Life which they so much esteem This Life a thing so burdensome to me As how I hate it you do clearly see May I not then oppress 't with Life repine Since there 's no Life comparable to mine The dregs of Life that do with me remain Are but the meer fomenters of my pain For who extended night and day on rack Would not with all his heart Death welcome make O let me then to God make my address O let me to himself my woes express He is a God of mercy and will hear Th'oppress't and have regard to every tear That drops from pious eyes A sore complaint then on my self I 'l make And in the anguish of my Soul I 'l speak I 'l say to God condemn me not and why Wilt thou contend with such a thing as I An Eagle take the pains to kill a flee Contend with me a thing not to be nam'd A thing of which even Nature is asham'd A piece of Earth that serving for no use Is thrown out on the Dung-hill as refuse The dross of human frailâ—â—y the abstract Of all that 's mouldy low decay'd and crack't A thing now grating at the gates of death Retarded only by a gasping breath A thing so mean as is not worth thy wrath Then why good Lord dost thou take so much pleasure T' oppress so mean a thing beyond all measure What doth this to thy Glory contribute How doth such usage with thy Justice sute Alace I know not how the matter stands But thus t' undo the labour of thy hands Thus to destroy a Creaure thou didst frame And once didst think it worthy of a name Nay as thy Creature thou was 't pleas'd to own Thus to reject it with a sullen frown Me thinks is strange What may the Atheists say When thy own servants are oppress 't this way Why they will surely in their scoffing mode Blaspheme the ever glorious Name of God See here they 'l say a man who seriously Apply'd his mind to th' art of piety Who his great God above all things ador'd A most devoted Servant to his Lord. One who not pleas'd with what his neighbours us'd Despised their Religion and refus'd T' acknowledge any of their Deities But in a zealous phrensy did devise A Deitie to himself peculiar Out of an humour to be singular See now they 'l say see how his God doth treat him See how his Lord he so much lov'd doth hate him How he doth whip him how he takes delite To vex a man who us'd himself to write A most obedient Servant to his God See how he beats him with a heavie Rod. Let him complain weep pray do what he can Let him cry out yet still this pious man Finds none to comfort pity or deplore him And for his God ' has no compassion for him But on the contrair doth appear t' abhor him Sure this will be their language thus alace Those impious wretches will themselves express Yes this will be their Table-talk I fear O then forbear for thy own sake
the time appointed shall arrive When he must die the day wherein he must Quite this vain world and return to Dust. For as a Hireling labourer doth attend The hour which to his Work may put an end That he may have his Wages and some rest From his hard labour so with cares oppress 't Poor Man for his appointed time doth wait Wherein his foolish labours soon or late May have an end that so the wearied slave May quietly lyedown and sleep in Grave That he may sleep in Grave and be no more A slave to sorrow as he was before Though he should there without all hopes remain Of ever seeing his dear World again His darling World which he so much esteem'd Of which scarce more than Embryo he dream'd But when in Grave he thinks no more upon His World for all these notions then are gone Those thoughts do with the Carrion buried lye And for his Soul ' t is all Eternity Thus then alace ah thus we plainly see Man's in a worse condition than a Tree For of a Tree cut down there 's still some hope It yet may sprout and spread its lofty top Although its scattered roots now old and dry Sapless and barren under Ground may dye And what of Trunk remains may every day In Dust and Pouder moulder and decay Yet sucking moisture from some Rivolet Whose frugal Streams doth scarce its Channel wet It quickly will revive and bud again And in short time spread out its Boughs amain As formerly and so arrive at length Unto its wonted comliness and strength But ah poor man upon his Sick-bed lyes Sighs out his Breath and like a Candle dyes Drown'd in its Socket without hopes alace Of ever living in his former case Without all hopes not sprouting like a Tree Only falls sick and dyes and where is he Ah where is he he who did once appear And thought of nothing less than death while here Where is he now where is this rambler gone What 's become of him pray' what has he done What has Earths darling done that he should dye And slip out of the World so shamefully Why Man is gone he 's now no more he 's dead He 's now in deep oblivion burried There 's no more of him For as Floods and Seas Are dryed up when Waters from them pass To other Channels so man vanisheth And is an empty nothing after death A nothing nay hold here I must correct My error and in this my passion check For though to outward view and reasoning Man in his Grave appears to be a thing Useless trod under foot esteem'd by none But hurryed in supine oblivion Yet this same Trunk which under ground doth lie Wants not its hope of Immortality For after many years it may revive Shake off its Circumambient Dust and live More firm and solid than it did before In a continued peace and die no more Yes as the waters from the Ocean flow Through Subterraneous Passages that so They in Earths Bowels may be purifi'd And free ' of former saltness gently slide Through clifts of rocks and unknown passages Into some thirsty Channel and encrease Its dwindling Streams then by degrees amain Return to their own Oceâ—n again So from the Sea of Life man sofâ—lie flowes Into the Grave where he doth onlie loss His former saltnesse and aciditie And there in closs Repositure doth lie While he be fitted for Eternity 'T is true he sleeps and shall not rise before Th' appointed time that Heavens shall be no more But when that time shall come that blessed time No new-blowen Rose no Lilly in its prime Shall smell so fragrant and appear so fair So livelie so in beautie singular So fresh so gay so bright so purifi'd As this same man who we suppos'd had die'd Shrunk into dust and in cold earth engross't This man whom we had given o're for lost When that bless'd time arrives shall re-appear More pure and act in a most glorious Sphere Than ere the Scenick Creature could do here Thrice happy those then who in grave do rest Whom no sad crosses of this life infest How much I envy their Felicity How fain would I enjoy their company Lord then that thou wouldst hide me in this grave Good Lord that such a wretch as I might have The benefit of that closs Sanctuary In which I might but for a season tarry Until thy wrath were past thy anger gone And those had storms of Judgments overblown Then of thy goodnesse please to let me know How long I must those Torments undergo How long my sufferings must endure and then Remember me in mercy once again O let me find thy kindnesse once before I drop out of this World and be no more But O I see my torments do encreasse And whilst I live shall enjoy no peace I therefore wish to dye as thâ—se oppress 't With toile and labour wish to be at rest Now if a man once in this Gulf of Death Be drown'd pray shall he re-assume his Breath Shall he revive yes yes he shall indeed And never more again be buried I 'l therefore wait I 'l therefore patiently Attend th' arrival of Eternity At least I 'l wait until the hour shall come That must restore me which although to some It be a question it to me is none For with assurance I relye upon My Makers goodnesse and believe that God Will to my sufferings set a period Then shall my God me once again embrace And to me every hour extend his Grace Then shall I Make addresse to him in prayer And shall no sooner speak then he shall hear ' Shall answer every thing I can demand And make me with great pleasure understand The language of the Saints But now alace Lord thou dost calculat My very thoughts thou dost enumerat My errors one by one and by and by In order they appear before thy eye There 's no concealing of the smallest sin Though in the breast yet when thou dost begin To reckon with us neither hope nor fear Can shelter them from eyes so sharp and clear But streightways all above board must appear When thou dost call Then all must be reveal'd And on the square be summ'd ty'd up and seal'd Like Money in a Bag that thou mayst know What each mans judgements ' to his sins do owe. Nay with so strict a survey not content Thy anger doth my wickednesse augment For even my moral sins are mustered Before thee strictly view'd and numbered And I alace am shrewdly punished For sins which in some others virtues are And in the Worlds eyes lawful do appear Then must I thus be punished good Lord Thus without pity wilt thou not afford But some small respite to my wearied Soul That I may have some leasure to condole My sad disasters Lord have pity then On me the most disconsolat of men Some respite I beseech some interval Some breathing
err'd or ly'd Cap. XXV BIldad it seems did undertake to do it And in a short discourse he thus spoke to it Why is it so says he that thou must still Hold such opinions argue what we will To th'contrair what has all that we have said Of our good wishes no impression made In thy poor Soul are all our labours vain And shall we still have reason to complain That after all what we can do or speak VVe are as yet not able to correct The fury of thy hot impatience But still thou tel'st us of thy innocence Ah! wilt thou never be convinc'd wilt thou Still wildly rave what ever we can do To bring thee to thy wits art'not asham'd To speak thus of thy Maker who has fram'd Both thee and us of very simple Dust That yet for all this thou wilt still be just What ere he say to th' contrair why my friend Is 't fit thou with thy Maker shouldst contend With him who all perfection doth transcend With him is fear dominion power and state Honour and glory pray who can debate With our Almighty God with God on high Under whose feet we Mortals grovelling ly Wilt thou contend with him whom all obey Whom no command or power dare gain-say A God unlimited and absolute In all his actings and wilt thou dispute With such a one His mighty armies are innumerable By which at all occasions he is able To make all men from Wars and Tumults cease And keep the whole Creation in peace He makes his Sun on every Creature shine Without distinction who then should repine Or say that he is partial when his care For all his Creatures equal doth appear O then since God is absolute and high Unlimited in power and soveraignty All-seeing wise impartially just And best of men is but a mass of dust Who 's he that in his presence dares assert That he is clean and upright in his heart Who 's he dares undertake to justifie Himself before his Maker or denie That he is sinful and by consequence Deserves to be chastis'd for his offence Who 's he of Woman born that can be clean Was ever yet that Mortal heard or seen That came into the World without Sin Since our first Parents did of old begin To lay the first foundation of offence Entailing firmly on their race from thence A sad inheritance of sin a black And uglie spot in a continued tract Of Generation from the dismal time That these till then unknown durst act a crime Then how darst thou affirm that thou art pure I'th'sight of God dost think we can endure To hear a man so impudentlie speak Of what but even to think deserves a check Pray but behold the Moon observe I pray How now at Nights it doth its beams display In imitation of the light of day View but the Stars too and observe how these Shine like bright Tapers in Kings Pallaces And though not great yet yield an useful light T' allay the horror of the tedious night Now one should think those glorious Heavenlie Creatures By their own Constitutions and Natures Were pure and clean but 't is a great mistake For those what ever figure they do make Of bright unspotted glorie in which sure They mankind do exceed and are more pure Than anie of us all yet in his eyes Those glorious Creatures with Impurities Are overspread and in his sight appear Unclean and Daple-spotted every where Then how much more unclean foul and deform Is man before him man a verie Worm A Moth an Aunt a Spider anie thing That may be thought not worth the valuing Man a meer Frog a thing both mean and base A sillie Worm both he and all his race Cap. XXVI TO hear such language without some offence Requir'd in Job a solid patience Who though he 's now nigh spent and hardlie able To speak yet hearing how his friend did table The same Discourse which had so oft before Been argued on both sides o're and o're With some disdain and seeming Indignation He thus put in his answer Pray now good friend if I without offence To your so oft displayed eloquence May ask the question pray now let me see What comfort brings all this Discourse to me What comfort pray my friend is this the way Are these the methods these the means now pray By which you would afford me some solace In this my sad and lamentable case No sure for what by your Discourse appears Your onlie aim is to augment my feares For you still tell me that my God is great Absolute Boundless and Unlimitat And how compar'd with him wee 're all but dust And so conclude none can be pure and just In sight of our great God Is this to comfort pray is this t' allay The Feaver of my Soul is this I say The way to comfort one in sad distress By Baiting of him with such words as these Words stuff'd with terror words of dreadful sense And to th' afflicted of sad consequence Words that with comfort so repugnant are As they 'd provoke one rather to despair Words of severest rigor words of death Words that would shake a verie solid faith Is this the comfort you intend alace This all the pity you have on my case To fright me with such passages as these For when you tell me that my sins do merit All I endure you do so crush my spirit You do so damp my wearied soul with fear As I am almost readie to despair And were 't not that my God in mercie yet Sustain'd my spirit I would soon forget My dutie to him and undoubtedlie As my impatient Wife did formerlie Advise me I should curse his Name and die But O my Soul do thou his Glorious Name In gratitude to everie age proclaim His Name who thee so graciouslie supports When men against thee make such strong efforts Pray then my dear friend if I may demand Without offence let me but understand What dost thou by this short Discourse intend What wouldst infer from thence pray to what end Dost thou with so much art delineat The Power of God and so expatiat Upon his works as if thou thought'st that I Did anie of his Atributes denie Are these the methods by which you intend T' instruct your shallow and unthinking friend You say I 've err'd why truth it may be so But by what you have spoke I do not know As yet in what For I as well as you A firm that God to no man doth allow Such puritie as he may arrogate Th' inheritance of an immortal state T' himself from thence I do with you agree That God is great and just and as for me I 'me but a Worm indeed a verie Gnat A Fly a Wasp a thing I know not what So mean so low and of so small esteem As baseness is it self compar'd with him I do agree with you that sinful men On this side