me still from all misse-fortunes and from so daine Death Which in this World that dangers ouer-fill is more then Fortune can to Man bequeath How many haue I seene the Warres to weare might haue seen hāg'd drown'd staru'd burnt torne How many poyson'd spill themselues with feare with Pox Plagues Pestilence how many worne The thousands blinde deafe dumbe lame leperous besides the Millions otherwise distrest In Minde and Body with griefes dolorous make me to see how much my State is blest For that which fell to any one of these might me befall be'ing euill as they be And that I haue more soundnesse ioy and ease it is to winne my loue thy loue to me If any mortall King should for one crime many condemne and saue but one or two And I of those condemnd should be the prime yet first of those two saued should be too How would my Heart be rauish'd with his Loue and how would all my Pow'rs striue him to serue Then no lesse Grace thy grace doth make me proue nay more much more thou dost my loue deserue For double thou deseru'st in treble kinde thou sau'dst my Soule and body doom'd to Death And from all franticke passions keep'st my Minde therefore I owe thee Minde Soule Body Breath For t is thy Grace we be not all consum'd but most of all my selfe that most doth sinne Sith on that Grace I haue to sinne presum'd yet still by grace seek'st me from sinne to win A Body thou hast giu'n me that doth lacke all that thou giu'st me to continue life And lest through want thereof It should to wrack with me those gifts are no lesse rich then rife All things thou mad'st for me and me for Thee for me Ground Graine Trees Fruit Mines Mettall bear Aire Fowle Seas Fish Fish Fowle for me produce most glorious Pearle and Plumes to weare For me Seas Ships Ships Sailes Sailes Winds endure to bring me Benefis from forraine Lands For me Flouds flow Wels spring Springs Water pure doe yeeld that I should yeeld to thy commands Sheepe Oxen Kine Goates Buckes and other Beasts yeeld Flesh Fleece Fels Milke Oile Hornes for me For me the Hound doth cry the Spaniell quests to teach me how to cry with hope to Thee The Hornes of Vnicornes that precious be are mine though they do weare them for my sake Plants Vertue haue not for themselues but me so things of eu'ry suite me Prime doe make What would I more there 's nought hath being got on or in Earth in Water or in Aire That eyther feedes or heales or sports me not so that this World doth nought but me repaire If I the Elementall World transcend to view the Heau'nly Orbes what Wonders There Sunne Moone and Stars I see who all attend but for my good for which they framed were For me alone they influence impart to these inferiour Bodies seruing mine For me doth Time himselfe in pieces part that I beyond Time might be wholy thine Nay let me passe the nine-fold Orbes of Heau'n and to thy sacred Mansion let me flee For whom had all thine Angels essence giu'n But for thy seruice and to waite on me To backe me and defend me from my Foes to hold me vp when ere I did decline To comfort me in Soule-afflicting Woes and to thy presence bring my Soule in fine Now if the Ends for which Things formed were be better then the Things for so they be Then better than the Angels Men appeare sith they it seemes for men were made by Thee And Men and Angels fell through onely Pride but for deare Mans Redemption thou didd'st die Yet for no one of th' Angels hast thou di'd which much augments mans hope and dignitie O then what Heart can once but thought-conceiue in what strict Tearmes I stand obleig'd to thee Sith me thou mad'st most Glory to receiue through mee as through the Eye Men glory see Wake wake thy selfe my Soule why sleep'st thou stil see who it is that hath thus done for whom Not for the Angels which obey his Will but for thee sinfull Soule his choisest Home Cast if thou canst a Number numberlesse and count his gifts with Stars or with Sea-sand The bottome gage of his Grace bottomlesse Or if thou canst not wonder-mazed stand Yet stand thou with and for Him while thou art that is as long as he himselfe exists That is while GOD hath but an humane Heart which is but while Eternitie consists As God is GOD he hath no Heart at all but as true Man he is he hath Mans Heart Then GOD and MAN can ne'er asunder fall though Men from GOD themselues too often part But GOD that hast Mans Heart and so hast mine sith I am Man although a sinfull one Still let thy Heart be mine and mine be thine that I may haue no Heart to grieue our owne I greatly doe desire with great desire to praise and loue thee GOD Mans harts repose But Praise and Loue in Mouth and Heart of mire through foulenes of that filth their grace do lose But sith all Creaetures thou hast made for mee for whatsoe'er is made I owe the same I le call on them with me to call on THEE to giue me grace to loue and praise thy Name Then ô yee all his Workes your voyces reare with man his master-piece that He would grant To me his Grace to sound his praises cleare and to supply in Loue my louings want To make my Mouth pure fit to hold his praise and make my Heart cleane meete to lodge his loue That Heart and mouth may so his glory raise while I his Grace in grace or glory proue That I in Grace and Glory may be knowne To liue but for that praise and loue alone A Meditation gratulatory for our redemption WHen I excogitate the great Good-turnes thou hast done for me ô extreamest Good With heate of Zeale my seathing Marrow burnes and flames of seruent Loue doe boile my bloud Especially for that when thou had'st form'd my Soule and body I deforming each Thou with thine own dierewrack hast me reform'd and with thy precious bloud becam'st my Leach Thou mightst for e'er haue banish'd me thy sight with the proud Angel and his cursed Crue For my fault was like his but more vnright then to the same a greater Plague was due And that thou hast not onely spar'd my Paine but therewithall bought endlesse blisse for me So that my Fall doth fall out to my gaine I am in straightest bonds oblieg'd to Thee And for thou mad'st me me to thee I owe sith thou redeem'd me much more owe I thee And would ô would I could my selfe bestovv to pay that More that 's lesse then due from me And so much more thou ought'st to be belou'd by how much greater were thy griefes and state And how much lesse then ought'st to be reprou'd whose life was more then most immaculate Who What and Wherefore dost thou suffer Lord and who
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
With honied pleasures while he tastes but Gall God shield we should then let vs onely ioy In his sowre-sweetest Crosse and his annoy Moses did see him in the midst of fire and fiery Thornes and in the mount among Lightnings and Thundrings Daniel did aspire to see his Throne which fiery wheeles did throng Then shall we looke for more Prerogatiue than had these friends of God then him we wrong T' expect what he in Iustice cannot giue For we must see him as the others did Else may we seeke him but he will be hid For as the Sires delight to haue their Sonnes resemble them in fauour so it ioyes Our heauenly Sire to see vs wayward Ones like him in patient bearing all Annoyes Which for our good his grace on vs inflicts for when we beaâ—e what beautie quite destroyes The wemmes and wounds of all his sore conflicts In his faire Eyes we are most louely then And foul'st when fair'st but in the Eyes of men We see a Dogge that but with crusts we feede will in our quarrell fight while he can moue And Seruants which we hire for little Meede will ne'erthelesse die often for our loue Then shall we Christians be lesse kinde then Beasts or thankfull lesse than those we hire for neede To him that giues vs all that Faith requests O no no no it were too great a blame The dignitie of Manhood so to shame The Flow'r of Iesse did most sweetly smell and came to perfect growth vpon the Crosse The fruit of life could not be gather'd well without sharpe Thornes that stooke vnto it close And Gall was tasted in a deadly fit by the best Taster who by his lifes losse Wanne Life to all that dye in him and it And till he rose from Death he did not eate The Hony-combe but fed on sower meate The Waters of Affliction are the streames whereat our heau'nly Gedeon still doth try Who are â—it Souldiers for his Warres Extreames and seuâ—rs such as on their Bellies lie To drinke as thirsting that they full may rise from those that for their meeâ—e necessiâ—ie Reach out their Hands to take what doth suffice Great Wealth and Vertue no agreement haue Sith Vertue makes it serue her as a Slaue Though Prisons of themselues be Sathans folds wherein for slaughter his best Sheepe he keepes Yet may the Cause make them the safest Holds yea Heau'ns of Saints for tho the Linnet peepes When shee 's encag'd at eu'ry loope and Chincke as longing to be gone and often weepes That shee 's restrain'd yea leaues her meat drinke Yet in the Cage she is from danger sure Of Fowlers Snares and Kites that would deuoure But those in Patience that their Soules possesse while they in bonds doe Tyrants wrath asswage The sweeter sing the sowrer their distresse like well-taught Lynnets vsed to the Cage There learne they sweeter Notes than Nature gaue when they abroad were in their Pilgrimage New exercise of Vertue there thâ—y haue Where may we sing with Quires of Angels then More free then when most fast from mortal men Then out of Prison goe we when we be put into Prison so the cause be good For Libertie is but Captiuitie that lightly makes more loose fraile flesh bloud Kings Courts yea Heau'n it self must yeeld with awe t' a Prisons glory though defil'd with Mud That keepes Gods Seruants safely for his Law A Princes Presence makes a Cote a Court And that Pris'n's Heau'n where Saints Angels sport The Coriander-seede in pieces cut each piece brings forth as much as all would doe And so a Martyr into Prison put and there first bâ—uiz'd then cut in pieces too No drop of bloud no piece though turn'd to mould but it hath force the Diuell to vndoe And workes more often then the Owner could For if in priuate Iarres effused Gore For vengeance cries his can doe that and more Of all parts of a Tree the Roote seemes worst for it 's deform'd and most offends the sight Yet all trees vertue thence proceedeth first stemme branch leaues flow'rs fruit yea life might The Roote alone may challenge as her owne for by the same they are both borne and nurst Which in the Roote as in the wombe was sowne So some like Rootes be'ing ragged in the Eye Dying for Christ makes Christians multiplie Some Trees there are that if their Rinde be rent cut prickt or braiz'd a precious Balme it bleeds In sight and sauour faire and redolent but neither yeelds till outward it proceedes So Martyrs when their Flesh is gasht or torne out flowes the Balme that cures their own misdeeds And others heales that so to Vertue turne This balme's so sweet that it the World perfumes Whereby the Pagan Christs sweet Name assumes The Roses sweetnesse if vntoucht it be soone with the leaues doth wither quite away But by the Fire when it is still'd we see it yeeld sweet Iuyce that hardly will decay Nay more the Leaues so bak'd into a Cake doe long make sweet both where they lye or lay And all that neighbors them most sweet doe make The leaues so parcht delighting still the Nose Immortall makes the Sweetnesse of the Rose So Martyrs sweetly liue with Brambles keene sith in their conuersation they are pure Yet few can see it sith they liue vnseene but still from worldly Comforts make them sure Bolt them nay bray or burne them if you will then will their vertue sweetly all allure And Heau'n and Earth with diuine sauour fill Had they by Nature dide their leafe nor iuce Had not beene halfe so sweete nor meet for vse Darke is the Water in the Airy Clouds yet that the Rose and Lilly brings to light Mantling the Earth with all that Nature shrowds within her bowels yer the Waters light What are thesâ— Clouds of which the Psalmist sings but Clouds of Witnesses as blacke as bright Graue Martyrs that giue Truth true witnessings Their Bloud the Water and when out it poures The Time lookes blacke but Saints spring with the showres With bloud the Churches Bud came forth at first as earnest of the fruits she was to beare Who was no sooner'spoused vnto Christ but in their bloud her Infants drowned were To shew her future throwes in bearing young your yeers sweet Lambs could not beleeue nor feare But yet your flesh could dye to right Faiths wrong Thus did the Church as soone as shee was wed With chastest bloud forgoe her Virgin-hed Then to our bloud the Gates of Heau'n flye ope and with our bloud Hell-fire's extinguished Our Bodies bloud doth scowre our Soules like Sope and with our bloud our Bodie 's honored The Diuell shamed and God glorifide for when in Truths defence the same is shed It makes our deedes most glorious in it dide The seed of Vertue and the bane of Vice Is bloud so shed No price to'a bloudy PRICE The resurrection of Truth Faith and Fame did flowrish most when soakt in Martyrs Bloud Whose Palms
too good made me too bad For they made me too proud and too too bold The rage of Lyons Tygers and the like Is lenified with gifts and turn'd to loue But with thy gifts to grieue thee I did seeke Yet still thou mad'st me their increase to proue Thou Man becam'st to make a God of mee at least a God that Heau'n and Earth doe serue And I became a Diuell in Deed to Thee that wrong'd thee more the more thou didst deserue High'st Iustice shining through thy Passions Cloud could not enforce me it to loue or dread Thou had'st no hole wherein thy head to shroud but all this All 's too little for my head Though thou art God Foes Fists thy face enorme if any touch my Coate I touch them home By word and deed that yet am but a Worme thou striu'st for lowest I for highest Roome Thou wouldst be slaine to slaughter Sinne in me but by thy death I life-inspir'd the same So thy great Mercy made me martyr Thee and with the Iewes I made thy griefes my game The Med'cine so thou gau'st to cure my Wounds I venomed to make my hurt the more Which both with Sinne shame my Soule confounds sith Sinne by Grace I made more sinfull sore If from the Law to take a cause to sinne is much more damn'd then sinne without the Law What is it then when Grace so vs'd hath bin and force to fight with Grace from grace to draw The wilde-fire of my Passions burned me my Thoughts Distractions did me quite deuide The Worme of Conscience rag'd where thou wouldst be yet these I did as one in thee abide For mine Affections cryed nought but Peace when those Affections most did Peace impunge And when I was in Hell they seem'd in ease so much the old misled Affections young And Fury-like towards hel I alwayes made but thou more wayes then all wayes broughtst me back The Trade of Vertue I held Vices Trade sith more then Vice she seem'd to liue in lacke How oft haue I beene at the gates of Hell and could not enter though I went about Thou didst the Diuell from his charge compell so Porter wast thy selfe to keepe me out Nay when I haue beene euen in his Iawes and that his Fangs were entring in my Soule Till thou didst pul me thence thou mad'st him pause so came I as from Heau'n as Meeke as Whole O! how can I such pow'rfull Grace requite that forceth Iustice with Her force to ioyne From wracke to saue me in mine owne despight and made restore who did my selfe purloyne Had I the liues of Angels and of Men and offer'd all to thee in sacrifice And if those liues were thrice resum'd agen and offer'd vp as oft t' would not suffice T' would not suffice to recompâ—â—ce thy loue it were too cheape to quite tâ—y deare deserâ— O then can I wretch so vngratefull proue as not to giue thee one poore wretched Heart Can I ô can I be so much besides Grace Faith Sense Mother-wit my selfe and all That hauing yet these gifts to be my guides doe yet but stand by these by these to fall If I be lost it must not be in Hell thogh ne'er so dark for there thou foundst me out It must be somewhere which no where can tell for where that is both Time and Place doe doubt It cannot be in Hell for thou art there then Heau'ns thy Seat ah would I there were lost Nay not in Place for thou art eu'ry where Then not in Time which ere It was thou knowst If then in Heau'n nor Hell in Time nor Place where then in my selfe lost I cannot be Yet lost I am if I doe lose thy grace which found me when I stole my selfe from thee But yet if needes I will be lost at last for grace at last saues none against their will No Lost-child euer was lockt halfe so fast from losing and deserueth halfe so ill The worst of Ill mâ—â—e worse with Ill made Whole is too too good for one made worse then That Too little he doth lose to lose his Soule that maugre grace still does he cares not what Therefore deare Lord let me not enter in this strict reuisall of my Sinne and grace The lesse to make excusable my Sinne but thereby more much more thy Loue embrace For these Confessions written by my Hand against my selfe against my selfe will goe To thy Tribunall and against me stand if now I doe not euer Sinne forgoe Then let thy Wâ—unds be once more opened deare Christ to wash me in thy reeking bloud Reuiue me by thy death that being dead still dead to Ill I may still liue to good O! iuycie Bunch of Soule-refreshing grapes hard pressed in the Wine-presse of the Crosse Make druncke my thirstie Soule that gasping gapes for thy pure bloud to purge mine being too grosse Mine Ire Pride Lust Presumption Hate and Scorne yea all my Sinnes which I can ne'er recite I cast into thy wounds which wide are torne O keepe them There then from thy Fathers sight As much as those confound these comfort me nay more much more sith more thou canst forgiue Then I can sinne although I quartred Thee if when the deed is done through grace I grieue Mellefluous Sea of Comforts most diuine Meridian Light whence springs true glories Day With both o'er whelme me till through both I shine in perfect glory by thy glories Ray. Let not my Deedes or inofficious Sloth doe or omit what should not or be done For both are cursed by thy blessed mouth sith Ill to doe and good omit is one But let this league be constant to the end For they but mend to marre that marre to mend And Wisedome at our wisedome doth but scoffe When we doe ill that good may come thereof The sighes of a Pensiue Soule groaning vnder the burden of sinne WHo art thou Lord thou Lord whose magnitude admits no Name and what or who am I That dare but thinke of such an Altitude farre past the reach of highest Angels Eye What am I but a Sacke of sickenesses Immodestie it selfe Dust Clay Durt Dung Slyme Food for Wormes lesse slymie Carkasses with filth much more vncleanly mixt among Meere gall of bitternesse true Heyre of Hell begot twixt Sinne and Sathan life of Death Rebellion in the abstract Vices Shell the breath of Sinne that baneth but with breath Gods griefe Mens plague and Angels sole annoy sith sad I make them by vncessant sinne Let to the sorrow which doth cause their Ioy sith mine example hinders some therein In Counsaile blinde in Actions most vnwise In thought vnstaid vnconstant in desire Then Nothing lesse yet great in mine owne Eyes for past my selfe my selfe would faine aspire In summe I am the totall summe of Ill ill in my flesh and euill in my sp'rit Worse in my Wit and worser in my Will this Lord is hee thou would'st to thee vnite But what and who art thou thou namelesse GREAT sith
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
great Then Feare perswades me I seeke grace in vaine yet Grace makes hope some Fauour to intreat I haue neglected to fore-see the woes that follow sinne and now would grace for-goe I oft haue taken mortall ouerthrowes yet scarse haue felt a mortall ouerthrow I haue encreast my scars that feared not to adde still sinne to sinne and graue to light Fresh Wounds haue opened those before I got to make the Cure most hard or curelesse quite And what the Baâ—mes of Grace had clos'd before I through the itch of sinne haue opened wide Which through corruption now are growne so sore that scarse I can so sore a Cure abide The Skinne which growing ouer hid my Wounds through breaking out of the corruption gape For sinne the grace once granted quite confounds so that I feare I hardly can escape For if the righteous man shall perish in his sinne committed how much more then shall Repentant sinners turning eft to sinne the thought whereof more grieues me then my fall The newly dead Christ quickly rais'd to life but he must groane in spirit weepe cry and pray Yer Lazarus be rais'd for mortall strife Death made with life to leaue so long a Prey So it is in Regeneration for the lesse the Soule 's defil'd with sinnes delight And the more she the least sinne doth abhorre the lesse winde of Gods Sp'rit reuiues that sp'rit What shall I doe I can but sinne deare Lord if so thou canst but plague yea plague with Death Sith still I sinne then in thought deed and word cut off my sinne or els abridge my breath For Breath it is that kindles sinne in me with blowing at the coales of damn'd desires These through my banefull breath still raging be and quite consume the grace that me inspires Then if I did not breathe I should not sinne yet should I loose my breath e'er sinne bewaile I by that losse should but damnation winne then let me rue my faults yer Breath doth faile But if thou wilt that I should longer liue Let me no longer sinne or longer grieue A desire of the louing Soule of God to be kissed with the kisse of Peace KIsse me ô kisse me with Loues honyed Kisse ô dearest Loue and sweet'st-Heart of my Soule Whose loue is like pure Wine that cordiall is doth sowre cares with Comforts sweet controle Thy Name is like to sweet suffused Balme which makes chast Soules eu'n sick for loue of thee Whose Passions striuing in a blessed calme on Sorrowes Seas to thee still rowling be Draw me deare Loue then after thee I le runne vpon the sent of thy diuine Perfumes My Loue 's impatient since it first begunne of this delay which quite my Soule consumes Then ô delay no more to marry mee But wed my Soule that pines for loue of Thee Sith all Gods Creatures are against those that are against GOD in action the Sinner desireth to be in vnitie with him AS when a Master hath most mortall Foes his Seruants and men made by him will be Most persecuting Enemies to those till with their Lord and Master they agree So all thy Creatures Lord doe rise in Armes against great Sinners if impenitent To plague them with all kinde of killing harmes till they be ruin'd quite or made repent But being one with Thee our Enemies shall seeke our Fauour and themselues submit For when they see our Succour's in the Skies they will adore vs and acknowledge it Then make me Lord my foes straight put to flight By being one with Thee for whom they fight The Sinner desireth to haue the bent of his Will made appliable to Gods THe Way to Heau'n that truest Port of Peace is straite and straight vntill at Hell we be Where on the right hand then we turne with ease for when we passe that Point then well are wee But being straite but few that Way doe wend and being straight the crooked misse it still Then to this Port but few their course doe bend sith most are crooked euer bent to Ill. Then make vs straight deare Lord with handling straite or bring vs to thy bent with other Art Wee know thine vpright Compasse hath the sleight to bow vs to the bending of thy Heart That we may shoote and still may winners proue The Shafts of our Indeauours at thy Loue. The Sinner inueighes against his fleshes frailtie desiring God to strengthen it with his pow'r and Grace VIle Flesh why dost thou so my Spirit impugne That still the Sonne of Righteousnesse I wrong who di'd to make you liue No Moment breathe I but I breathe out Sinne That ends with shame where Sorrow doth beginne which makes me glad to grieue In thee fraile Flesh I feele my bloud to boyle With heate of such desires as make the Soile but Sinne in graine to beare My Spirits that in that Bloud doe swim with paine Yet floate they sith false pleasures them sustaine are neere the wracke I feare I feare the Rocke of refuge to the Iust For how in Truth should Treason put her trust Then truthlesse Traitor I May iustly feare that Grace in Iustice will My gracelesse Soule for Fleshes Treasons spill which makes me liuing dye I liuing dye not as one mortifide To sinne wherein as dead aliue I bide The more my griefe and blame I faine would dye to liue but Flesh doth draw My Life to Death sith I obserue the Law of Sinne which is my shame O thou whom Iacob wrastled with a space Strengthen my Faith to wrastle with thy Grace that it may set me goe Although it lame my Loynes and crack my Thighes Wherein strong Sinne still domineering lyes into thy Weale through Woe The Sinner recounting his manifold transgressions and finding himselfe thereby in danger of perdition desireth Grace through a world of sorrowes to auoid both Sinne and damnation MY Soule still faint in doing well and strong in working ill now now thy selfe retire From outward Cares or else amidst their throng poure out thy Sorrowes to thy heau'nly Sire Thy scatter'd thoughts in Fancies lewd as light gather together and with all thy Pow'rs Vnited shew thy sinne and cursed plight sith meeke Confession grace for sinne procures Weighing my deeds I finde too light they be yet more then I can beare nay me they quell So am farre lighter if thou ballance me and yet my lightnesse weighes me downe to Hell Shame shall not let me though it boile my Bloud t' vnfold the foule diseases of my Soule To him that can and will so doe me good and make her Angell-faire though ougly-foule My Time then to my shame I must confesse vnto my Soules Physitian grace to winne Hath all in sinne beene spent yet ne'erthelesse too short I thought it for my shortest sinne If I at any time did seeming-good t' was but corrupt or counterfaite at least And so t' was but well done in likelihood being but a sinne well-coulored at best My deeds with ill haue then depraued bin
the bones which by thee broken were reioyce and sinne wherein it ioy'd reiect O then from my foule sinnes thy Face auert and wash me from the filth they cast on me In me create an vndefiled Heart with such a spirit as may be iust to thee And cast me not ô cast me not away out of the Way still brightned by thy beames Nor from me take thy Spirit my Guide and Stay in hardest passages of all Extreames Restore to me the gladnesse of thy blisse and with thy chiefest Spirit still strengthen me Then those I le teach that now thy wayes doe misse so Sinners shall conuerted be to thee Saue me from bloud that vengeance doth implore so shall my Tongue thy Iustice highly raise But more thy Mercy sith it glads me more Then ope my Lips and they shall shew thy praise Had'st thou desired Sacrifice I had offer'd it to thee but thou tak'st delight In no burnt Offrings but art euer glad to take the Offer of a contrite Spirit A Broken Heart with sorrow but for Sinne thou wilt nor canst thou for thy Word despise Then let mine broken so thy Mercy win and from it still auert thine Anger 's Eyes With Sion ô deale gently that the Wals of raz'd Ierusalem rebuilt may be And still withstand Hels fiery darts and Bals to keepe thy Foes out onely but for thee Then shalt thou take the Sacrifice in gree of Iustice in thy Mercy then shall they Offer Oblations still in flames to thee and Calues vpon thine holy Alter lay To God the Father praise and glory be and to the Sonne and to their blessed Sp'rit A Trinitie in strictest Vnitie as it was is and shall be infinite Domine exaudi Psal. 102. It seemeth that this Prayer was appointed to the faithfull to pray in the Captiuitie of Babilon A Consolation for the building of the Church whereof followeth the praise of God to be published vnto all Posteritie The Conversion of the Gentiles and the stabilitie of the Church ATtend my Prayer Lord and let my Cry ascend to thee from whom all grace descends From my distresse turne not thy Mercies Eye but bowe thine Eare to me that downward bends When e'er I call make answere for my dayes like Vapor vanish and my parched bones Waxe weake and dry as is the flame that playes about the Snuffe at point to quench at ones Th' hast smitten me as Grasse by Lightning smit so that my Heart is wither'd quite away And through my griefe for that I further it for I forget to eate for Natures stay And through my groning voice my bones that burne to my consuming flesh will hardly cleaue And like a Pelican alone I mourne or like an Owle I liue while life I leaue I weare out Time in strictest vigilance and as a Sparrow on the Houses Crest I sit alone to minde my sinnes mischance so idly resting in the most vnrest The while my Foes backbiting me reuile yea he that praised me against me sweares But I as Bread did Ashes eate the while and still my Drinke did mingle with my Teares Because thy Wrath grew hot against my sinne for thou hast rais'd me vp to cast me downe My dayes are past as if they ne'er had bin and like Hay wither'd I from thee am mowne But thou immortall Spirit dost still endure and thy Memoriall euer lasts in prime Thou shalt arise and downe thy Mercies poure by showers on Sion in this promis'd time For eu'n the Stones of that faire Edifice delight thy Seruants and her sacred Ground They pitty as they doe her preiudice which with the sharpest griefe their hearts doth wound So shall the Heathen feare thine awfull NAME and all the Kings on Earth thy glory feare For Sions Fabricke thou dost still re-frame and in thy fullest Glory shalt appeare Our Lord the prayers of the meeke approues and not dispie their Suites in wretched case So future times to write this this doth moue that Babes vnborne may praise this God of Grace Who from his high as holy Place doth vaile his Eyes to Earth whereon they still remaine To heare poore Captiues plaints and such as waile and loose the Sonnes of them vniustly slaine That they in Sion should diuulge his NAME and in Ierusalem his earned Praise Yea in th' Assemblies celebrate the same when Kings consorted sing sweet Sions Layes He in the way of his great pow'r and grace â—hath answer'd them but shew Lord shew to me How long or short shall be my mortall Race that so for thee I still may ready be And take me not ô take me not away at vnawares yer halfe my Dayes be done As for thy yeeres they stand still at a stay but mine more swift then thought away doe runne In the Beginning thou the Earth didst found the highest Heauens thy glorious Hands did reare But they shall perish thou continue sound while they waxe old and like a Garment weare And as a Vesture thou shalt change their Frame and they shall changed be but thou alone Dost still continue One and aye the same whose yeeres remaine the same and euer One Thy Seruants sonnes inhabit shall the Land their seede shall be directed in thy Wayes And while they walke therein they fixt shall stand in Heau'n and Earth to celebrate thy praise To God the Father then all glory be t' his Sonne and to their Spirit which wee adore Coequall in their Essence and Degree as it was is and shall be euermore De profundis clamaui Psal. 130. The people of God from their bottomlesse misery doe cry vnto God and are heard They confesse their sins and flye vnto Gods mercy FRom depth of Griefe wherein my Soule doth lye I doe and will deare Lord still call on thee Then let thine eares attend mine inward Cry and listen to my Prayers and to me If thou fraile Flesh wilt call to strict account what flesh and bloud then in thy sight shall stand But Mercy is with thee as in the Fount then I expect thy Mercyes Helping-hand My Soule vpon the Faith which thou hast plight hath euer staid and still doth hope in thee Then from the Morning-watch till that of Night let Israel still relie on Thee with me For with this God of Glory and of Grace is Grace as much as Glory and therein He will redeeme the sad in sinfull Case with his true Israel from all their sinne To God the Father which we doe adore and to the Sonne and to their blessed Spirit All glory be as it was heretofore is and still shall be through Worlds infinite Domine exaudi Psal. 143. An earnest Prayer for remission of sinnes acknowledging that the enemies did thus cruelly persecute him by Gods iust iudgement He desireth to be restored to grace To be gouerned by his holy Spirit that hee may spend the remnant of his life in the true feare and seruice of God LOrd heare my pray'r with thine all-hearing ears and for thy truths sake
note mine humble suite O heare me in thy Righteousnesse which heares All those that mourne although they still be mute And into Iudgement enter not O Lord with me fraile man for I nor none beside Because of sinne which we haue all incurr'd in thy cleare sight shall then be iustifide For th' enemie the Fiend our common Foe hath long pursu'd my Soule that flesh misse-led My Life in Earth his Fury hath brought low and hid the same in darknesse with the dead My Spirit therefore is vext my Minde and Heart are greatly troubled yet I minded still Thy dayes of old thy Workes and thy Desert which did my Muse with Ioy and Wonder fill My hands to thee haue still out-stretched bin my Soule that thirsts as earth that water wants For drops of grace to quench her flames of sinne I lift to thee the while for grace she pants Then kindest Lord with speede attend my cryes because my fainting spirit hath failed me Auert not from me thy conuerting Eyes lest I be like to those that burying be And in the dawning of the long'd-for Day the Day when Iustice Sonne shall Comfort giue Let me the voyce of mercy heare I pray sith still I hope that thou wilt me relieue And sith so many Heads so many Wayes are said to lead to thee by Heads of Sects Shew me the Way that straight to thee conueyes sith my poore Soule both thee and it affects And from my Foes preserue me weakling still to thee alone I flye in all distresse Then teach me to performe thy blessed Will for thou art onely all my blessednesse Thy Spirit that cannot erre nor yet deceiue shall bring me to the Land that Iustice beares And for thy Names sake thou shalt me receiue according to thy grace that neuer weares From Trouble thou shalt bring my Soule to rest and through thy Mercy shalt destroy my Foes Yea all annoy that doe my Soule molest sith as thy Seruant I on thee repose To God the Father Sonne and Holy Ghost three Persons and one God all glory be As it was is and shall be in each Coast thoughout all worlds in all eternitie FINIS RIGHTS OF THE LIVING AND THE DEAD Being A proper Appendix to the precedent Meditations OBIT-RIGHTS A Funerall Elegie on the death of the most vertuous and no lesse louely M irs Elizabeth Dutton eldest Daughter of the Worthy and generally beloued Sir Thomas Egerton Knight eldest Sonne to the right Honorable Thomas Lord Elesmere Lord Chancellor of England which Elizabeth was at the age of eleuen yeeres married to Iohn Dutton of the age of fifteene yeeres Sonne and Heyre of Thomas Dutton of Dutton in the Countie of Chester Esquier which Iohn deceased about the age of seauenteene yeeres and left the said Elizabeth a Virgin-Widow who so liued till shee died the first of October at the age of six teene yeeres and a halfe in Anno 1611. A Virgin Wife and Widow three that One Held rarely perfect in like Vnion Incites my Muse nay more doth her coÌ„strain To empt my Pen of Praise of Wit my Braine In her deserued honor she whose all Was nought but good yet so as we may call That good but nought and iustly if the same Giue not her goodnesse glory more than fame A Maide in whom Virginitie gaue place Though most exact to Modestie and Grace A Wife who like old Iosephs blessed Bride Though wedded but vnbedded till she dide Yet from her came on her by Grace begot Faith Feare and Dutie in a True-loue knot Till his decease to whom these three she bare And after for him nurst them still with care She liu'd a Widow but t' was hard to know Whether she liu'd or dide when she was so Sith when she lost her Pheare she lost her Breath For Turtle-like she mourn'd and droupt to death But while t' was losing she such Patience wanne By his Death mortifide as she beganne Before her end her Heau'n on Earth thereby In hope to liue with Him when Life should die So in her Patience she her Soule possest Her God in whom her Soule with his did rest Yet rested so that still vnseene she mou'd to both deuoutly whom so much she lou'd Poets can shape of things that grace forsakes Farre rarer things than grace or nature makes But let all Poets all their Arte vnite To fable praise the morall is her right Nature profusely had on her bestow'd Borrowing of grace more grace then e'er she ow'd And grace as enuying Natures Gifts so rare Vnlockt the Heau'ns where all her Treasures are And showr'd them downe so on this deerest Maide As she for worth an Angell should haue waide Wit for her worth can ne'er hiperbolize Much lesse a Poet in it Poetize Sith what or Wit or Poetry can praise With their best Arte was found in her then raise Her vp my Muse ere she be rais'd at last And her enthrone in glory high as fast That when the Virgin whom all Virgins blesse Shall for her graces see her gloriousnesse In Heau'n and Earth she may as worthy her Enbozome her or fixe her in a Starre Whose Name and Fame while mortall Virgins liue To them with hers may Light and Vertue giue For this her Soule still labour'd to be gone T'returne her Errand of Creation As fiery Matter working in a Cloud Breakes through for want of Matter it to shrowde So Soules with stirring much are said to fire The best Complexions and so home retire But Sicknesse ah too sweet-lipt suckt her Bloud That she had none to fire in likelihood And so her vitall-flame vnnourished Her Soule through coldnesse left her body dead A short life made her Virgin Widow Wife But well she lâ—u'd which is the Well of life This old World was vnworthy such a Iemme Therefore she shines in new Ierusalem I best can witnesse how her time she spent Who taught her hand to shew her hearts entent Then may I best renowne for knowne desert The Pupill of my Hand that had my Heart Thou hadst my Heart deare Pupill sith in thee Was all that might intirely master me And did my Pow'r but equall halfe my Will Laura should be thy Foile for I by skill Would set thee so aboue her that thy light With poynant Beames should thrust through Earth and Night For when Formositie and Vertue striue In one sole Subiect for Prerogatiue That Subiects praise must raigne all Tearmes aboue In height of Glory Memory and Loue The Grand-sire of thy Flesh in Earth's renown'd And thy spirits Grand-sire King of Heau'n is crown'd Thou liuing then as comming from such Sires Our Songs must answere the Celestiall Quires That chant the praise of Vertue in their King In whom thou art then we on earth must sing Thy praise in his sith his all praise containes So thine in his eternall glory gaines To thee then sing I as I sing of Thee Who art sole Base of this high Harmony For knowing Tombes haue ends as
well And while I liue I le be the leading-Bell That shall thy lowdest Peales of prayses ring Which in the Clouds shall ne'er leaue ecchoing Or be the Trumpet of thy Fame to fill Th' Aetheriall Lofts with Straines more lofty still That when Times wings his Funerall flame consumes Thy Fame shall soare with faire vnsinged Plumes An Epitaph on the death of the right vertuous Lady Liegh sole Daughter of the same right Honourable Lord Elesmere Lord Chancellor of England which Lady deceased the third day of Aprill Anno Dom. 1612. HEre dead shee lies who while aliue she was was Graces Inne Wits Home and Vertues Rest Whose WORTH was of true Worthinesse a Masse yet well proportion'd for her humble Brest A Wise and Mother as it 's hard to say whose losse was great'st her childrens or her phoares To eyther wisely kinde to each a stay that made one loue the other loue and feare To her all-honour'd Sire she was as deare as she was vertuous which was as the bloud In his Hearts Center which to him is neare yet dearer held his flesh in one so good Who dide as liue she did in grace and peace more laden with good-deeds then idle-dayes Leauing her worth for worthinesse increase for Wiues vnborne to imitate and praise Who had at once two Husbands yet she liu'd of Wisely truth a constant Paragon One Husband heauenly was who hath depriu'd the Earthly of her for himselfe alone Yet yer he had her bought her with his Bloud But with her bought a World of Womanhood Then maugre Time Death these Lines tho weake May leade all Times all good of her to speake Here Muse now close the Paper-tombes of these Two vertuous Soules and Bodyes Aunt and Neece with this A good Name is better then a good Ointment and the day of death then the day that one is borne Eccles. 7.3 The Picture of an happy Man HOw blest is he though euer crost that can all Crosses Blessings make That findes himselfe ere he be lost and lose that found for Vertues sake Yea blest is he in life and death that feares not Death nor loues this Life That sets his Will his Wit beneath and hath continuall peace in strife That striueth but with fraile-Desire desiring nothing that is ill That rules his Soule by Reasons Squire and workes by Wisedomes Compasse still That nought obserues but what preserues his minde and body from offence That neyther Courts nor Seasons serues and learnes without experience That hath a Name as free from blot as Vertues Brow or as his life Is from the least suspect or spot although he liues without a Wife That doth in spight of all debate possesse his Soule in Patience And pray in loue for all that hate and hate but what doth giue Offence Whose Soule is like a Sea too still that rests though mou'd yet mou'd at least With loue and hate of good and ill to whaft the Minde the more to Rest. That singly doth and doubles not but is the same he seemes and is Still simply so and yet no Sot but yet not knowing ought amisse That neuer Sinne concealed keepes but shewes the same to God or moe Then euer for it sighes and weepes and ioyes in Soule for grieuing so That by himselfe doth others mete and of himselfe still meekely deemes That neuer sate in Scorners Seate but as himselfe the worst esteemes That loues his body for his Soule Soule for his Minde his Minde for God God for himselfe and doth controule CONTENT if It with him be odde That to his Soule his Sense subdues his Soule to Reas'n and Reas'n to Faith That Vice in Vertues shape eschewes and both by Wisedome rightly waigt'h That rests in action acting nought but what is good in deed and shew That seekes but God within his thought and thinkes but God to loue and know That all vnseene sees All like Him and makes good vse of what he sees That notes the tracts and trickes of Time and flees with th' one the other flees That liues too low for Enuies lookes and yet too high for loth'd Contempt Who makes his Friends Good-men and Bookes and nought without them doth attempt That liues as dying liuing yet in death for life he hath in hope As far from State as sinne and debt of happie life the meanes and scope That feares no frownes nor cares for fawnes of Fortunes fauorits or foes That neither checkes with Kings nor Pawnes and yet still winnes what Checkers lose That euer liues a light to All though oft obscured like the Sunne And though his Fortunes be but small yet Fortune doth not seeke nor shunne That neuer lookes but grace to finde nor seekes for knowledge to be knowne That makes a Kingdome of his Minde wherein with God he raignes alone This Man is great with little state Lord of the World Epitomiz'd Who with staid Front out-faceth Fate and being emptie is suffic'd Or is suffic'd with little sith at least He makes his Conscience a continuall Feast This Life is but Death THogh Fire by warmth cheers life great heat brings death though good Aire life detaines bad life defines Though Water stayes our thirst it stops our breath though fruitfull Earth doth feede the barren pines Too-much o'er-fils too-little feebles life Wealth wants not Cares Want wants all but Cares Solenesse brings sadnesse Company but strife and sodaine Ioyes doe kill as well as feares Meane mirth is rationall extreame is mad no good so good but here it 's mixt with ill Nay too much goodnesse is exceeding bad yea bad if blinde it be is true Good-will And saue the High'st our highest gaine is losse Then life 's but death where al things are so crosse True Wealth THat Grace that neyther wonders grieues nor ioyes at Fortunes vtmost seeking but to finde What Bounty still in action best imployes nor wailes the want that beggers not the Minde That neyther grieuing sighes nor ioying sings that shines most glorious in most gloomy dayes Pleas'd with the state her owne endeuour brings that droupes not with defame nor swels with praise That scornes Disdaine disdaining nought but vice and Greatnesse rates by Goodnesse doing nought But good for ill and that for auarice of goodnesse onely by her onely sought That Time and Wealth well spent doth not deplore This is that Wealth without which Wealth is poore An Angel-like Man HE which prouokt endures as borne to beare and lookes alike in greatest weale and woe That so loues good that ill he nought doth feare and ebbes in Minde when Fortunes most doe slow That bounds Desire with lesse than he enioyes for onely nothing's lesse then Nature needes That holds all Vertues deare all else but toyes and meekely scowres Prides rust from his bright deeds That 's better than hee seemes yet seemes the best but without scandall seekes to seeme the worst That quell'd with Crosses thinkes him highly blest and for the Blisse of all would dye accurst In
feares to die for good Yet for Christ t' is more glory to be crost then of him to be crown'd an earthly King The last may be by chance or Treason lost but from the Crosse immortall Crownes doe spring To be in glory may proceede of Grace without the glorifide his meriting But well-borne Crosses alter quite the case Vertue consists in doing hardest things And vicious Fooles haue too too oft beene Kings Who suffers straight hath but one victorie but he that alwayes doth encounter paine And yet o'er-throwes the strong'st Extremitie is crowned eu'ry day and still shall raigne And what is Death but our best earthly friend which kils our Flesh our deadliest enemy So friendly is both to and in the end Then Crauen why doe I so flye his force That saues me when he makes my corps a corse For if the pining of the body be the pampring of the Soule than must this friend That with his paines makes vertuous Soules to flye where they are pamper'd without meane or end Be still embrac'd noâ— fled but ô fraile flesh this dying doctrine doth but thee offend That hold'st it most erronious fond and fresh Thou canst not poise these treasures of the Sp'rit for they are waighty and thou art too light Thou must haue all that may thy Senses charme with sweete as most effeminate delights And fly'st from Death to honied pleasures swarme yea follow'st them in their vnconstant flights Austeritie nor canst nor wilt thou brooke sith it quite mortifies thy liuely sp'rits And for thy life still put'st thee to thy Booke But thou dost long for all that makes thee light As well within as gawdy still in sight Mean while thou burn'st to nought with flames of sin for as the Lightnings flash although it spares The painted sheath it melts the Blade within which is the thing more worthy so it fares With sinnes pernitious fire-flash for it leaues the goods and body sound but vnawares The Soule more pretious it of life bereaues But who to spare a Thing of nought will spend Gods Goape his Soule hee 's mad cannot mend Many though Princes poore are in their store in Honors abiect malecontent in mirth Their flesh selfe frailtie their spirits basely poore their Soule 's the sinckâ— of all the sinnes on Earth The Moths of Man-kinde sores of Sou'raigntie vnhappily-happie in their base-high Birth Who liue like Monsters and like Diuels dye The rich possesse the meeke the Earth enioy For they haue most that haue the lest annoy Looke in the Graues suruey the Emperours Kings Dukes and Worthies of the Ages past Then looke on those whom life and death obscures poore Beggers tell me then who 's first who last Who rich who poore who faire foule high or low but if thou canst when burnt be diuers Woods Their Ashes well distinguish then maist thou distinguish of their bodyes states and blouds Then wherefore waigh we so our Flesh misled That 's light as vanitie aliue and dead And life at best is but a golden sleepe lin'd but with siluer or more earthly dreames Or else a Tragedie that moues to weepe of ceaselesse troubles and most dire Extreames A passing but from life is life for still in stay'ing it goes yet vnlike Water-streames That running stay alike by Natures skill Streames running rest the same and not the same But still vnlike doth burne our vitall-flame Things future are beginning endlesly Things present euer ending and Things past Quite dead or done for while we liue wâ— dye and dead we liue so life is first and last Then better dye to life than liue to death for mortall-life in Death but time doth waste And Death doth gaine of â—ime he shorteneth Who for our good our bodyes still assailes And frees our Soules by ruining their Iayles It is but Natures necessary wracke then let vs make it voluntarie that Is necessary and still bowe our Backe vnder the burden of our common state With all alacritie and giue to God his owne which were most damn'd to alienate Sith he of Dolorâ— paid for it his lode Then it were Sacriledge not to restore That which he made lent and bought and more Death 's dreadfull but to those that know him not to those that know him well hee is not so The Old before their faces him haue got the young behinde while he doth all o'erthrow Acquaintance with the Warres estrangeth feare they dread not waues at Sea though high they goe that vs'd are to them though they all orebeare And with them fight in front or in the reare Then not to feare Death is with him to be Familiar made and bring Sense vnder lee The Pilot while he is his Ship to guide sits at the Stearne for there he most preuailes And so the vertuous maugre winde and Tyde when through this stormy Sea of life he sailes Sits at the Stearne that is lifes hinder-piece where he in Tempests bearing lowest Sailes Conducts it safely to the Port of Peace To beare high sailes and still forbeare the helme Is Ship and Fraight so quite to ouer-whelme Death is the doore whereby we must goe out of straitest Bonds to freest Libertie Then as the Pris'ner that of Death doth doubt yet waites the while for his deliuery Most ioyes in sitting at the Prison dore that when it 's op'ned he may instantly Get out t' enioy his freedome as before So should our Thoughts be fixt on lifes last steppe To which we soone may iump but not o'er-leape Thoughts mortifide the ashes are wherein the fire of Vertue being rak'd vp close The longer lasts and greater heate doth winne to kindle courage in our cold dispose That when Death comes and those shall be vnrak't we may reioyce our flame so freely goes Vnto her Spheare then should it not be slack't In Chimney of our flesh where it doth lye Like to be quencht with our iniquitie And as a floud that from a mountaines top doth rowling run with strange as ceaslesse noise And ouer many crâ—ggy Le ts doth hop till in the Valâ— beneath it rest enioyes So fares it with our life which we beginne with ceaslesse out-cryes for our felt annoyes Then downe Times houres we run through lets sin Till in the end we rest in vale of Death To which we blow our selues by spending breath Then Death 's our rest for since the same hath past through lifes pure Veynes or rather Lords of life Of the least bitternâ—sse it hath no taste but freshest sweetnesse therein still is rife It is the vertuous peacefull Paradise but to the vicious t is a World of strife For nought is plagu'd in Death but mortall Vice Then he may well be stil'd a Martyrs Peere That vertuous Death doth rather seeke than feare Death to a Thiefs's compar'd who if he findes the Man he meanes to rob vpon his guard He speakes him faire else him he bindes and blindes so Death is kinde to those for him prepar'd But curst to them that
with waight grow higher their flame doth waxe more strong the more it is with-stood Their Spice by pounding yeeldeth sweeter sent and Le ts to Truth are borne downe with this floud Which let abroad doth grow more violent And while it runnes it rores and after cryes For vengeance on their Foes Truths Enemies With Tyrants Thundrings Errours Cloud is crackt th'inclosed light of Truth 's disclosed so And showres of bloud that then for Truth are wrackt makes Martyrs more and more on Earth to grow For still their Side by God himselfe is backt they Sampsons with their Death do quell the foe And most torment him when they most are rackt then good Crosse blessed sheep-crooke Saints stil keep to Christ whose Hooke thou art to catch his Sheepe For as a feate Embroderer that hath a piece of Veluet brackt t'embroder on So drawes his Worke that he to hide the scath embroders richliest in that place alone So GOD vpon the Veluet of our flesh all torne in time of Persecution Couers the Bracks with Beautie faire as fresh So that the other Parts are beautifide By those rent parts by GOD so glorifide And as the Paper-mill of rotten Raggs tane from the Dung-hill by still mauling it Makes so white Paper as the filthy Iagges may now infold the purest part of Wit Or purest things that come from Heart or Hand so we by Martyrdome are made most fit How euer base in glory still to stand And made more apt diuinely to comprise Gods glorious Graces and his Rarities Thogh th'vpper heau'n doth turne by violent sway the lower out of course from East to West Yâ—t of themselues they wheele the other way for they by Nature turne from West to East So thogh from th' East where Truth begins to shine her Foes would force our Faith or course at least To Errors West where Truth doth still decline Yet must we stirre as Grace and Nature moues Vnto the East where God our course approues A Martyr's like a Dye which though it fall this or that way it fals no way amisse It flat will lye or cannot lye at all so Martyrs lye with Truth where ere she is They will lye leuell with the Earth nay more In or aboue it lye or stand for this Hange burne or starue all 's one they feele no sore Then when God throwes at all with them to win At eu'ry throw he drawes some others in Abel he cannot be that is not taught true patience by the malice of a Caine And happy he that like a Cole is caught out of Afflictions fire with God to raigne While he is bright and glowes with Charitie for whether to be white or red in graine The Church were best is vncouth to discry The Churches flowres the Rose nor Lilly want But both adorne and make her triumphant The martyr'd Body of our Lord and God is the main Rock from whence his Saints are hewne For from his flesh they rent are with the Rod and by the rentings of the Rod are knowne To be true flesh of his torne Flesh and so to be his Types by which him selfe is shewne To Heathen-folke that him desire to know O! t is a glory past the height of FAME To be like Christ in suffrings as in name The antient Romaines vs'd their force to trye t' incounter Beares and Lyons and the Scarres That came by sauage Tuskes they valued hye and piercings of their Pawes so many Starres If in vaine-glory they such Dents endur'd what should we doe in Christ our Captaines Warres Be'ing of true glory for our fight assur'd We should with Patience arm'd encounter death And for that gaine with torment lose our breath Shall Saints feare Men whom Angels ought to feare for Saints shall iudge the Angels and the Fâ—end Hath cause to feare them for they rule doe beare ouer his Legions yea his Forces rend The World should likewise feare them sith the Saints shall with heau'ns Vmpier iudge it in the end Than hee that at his threates or torments faints Can be no Saint but must be Iudg'd of them A Coward to foule shame and paines extreame Elias must not feare nor feare disguize to let the Mantle of his flesh to fall To flye in Coach â—lame-wing'd to Paradise Gedeon must breake his earthly Pots sith all Their Light 's so seene to put his foes to flight Ioseph must leaue his Cloake or else he shall Be mou'd to wrong his Maister in his right Life leads to Care but Death to Comfort leads Then Death in Syons cause in Sion treads At Sea decayes the Sailer in his Tent the ventrous Sâ—uldier in the Court decayes The vertuous Courtier Iustice in Iudgement true Faith in Friendship Skill in Arts Assaies In Manners Discipline so we alone that dying liue in these too nightly dayes Vnder the ruines of the World doe grone All is quite or â—erlesse which doth portend The World with vs is euen at an end And ô what should I say when Courage makes the Cause nor good nor bad for Falshoods Friends Haue dide in Errors cause at flaming Stakes as stout as Martyrs in their constant ends Witnesse that Legate sent from Pow'rs beneath who late in Smith-field Error so defends That he out-fac'd Truth men flames dread death And Anabaptists there for Error stood Aâ— stout as those that for truth lost their bloud But Legate though thou canst no answere yeeld yet let me question thee as many doe Question the dead for Error which they held tell me who gaue thy false Faith Courage too That thou for Error should'st so stoutly burne for Error that must needs thy Soule vndoe If on the Coales from it shee did not turne Can Sathan counterfet our GOD so nye In 's Gifts that men for him should stoutly dye But thou might'st answere Faith though false it be yet if the Soule perswaded be it's true Vpon the Heart it worketh morrally as Faith doth which to Heau'nly Truth is due This made the Priests of Baal their flesh to wound and many Indians sense of paine subdue Yea burne with those whose Faith thâ—y hope was sound Then not to suffer much nor Constancy Proues Error Truth which fire 's too cold to trye Then Truth must trye her selfe by Reas'n and Faith but where Faith bids beleeue Reas'n still must be Obedient to beleeue what ere she saith though she say Three are One and One is Three A Maid's a Mother that a Man had wiu'd true God vnmade made true Man really And that the Dead shall rise as here they liu'd All this and more of Faith must Reas'n beleeue But God the Fount of Reas'n this Faith must giue Death is the worst of Ils yet best to those that dye for Faith well tryde and who they be The Conscience of the Dyers neuer knowes if with the Rules of Faith they disagree Then God knowes who are his and Men may know that all are his his â—reest Spirit doth free From life by death