my Guard no Enemy I 'le fear Remove sins Opace Globe hence speedily Which interposeth 'twixt my Sun and me That my poor Moon-like Soul barr'd from his sight May see and feel again his wonted beams And shine with free Reflection of lent-light Whilst thou blest Life dost flow in liberal Streams ODE IV. On Psalm LI. O Life and Light of all that live Which facile Ears and Eyes dost give To penitential sighs and tears Receive my humble fervent Pray'rs Whose tender Mercies Croud exceeds All numbers blot out my misdeeds Which howsoever num'rous prove Yet cannot parallel thy love Perfect great Power what tears begin And wash me throughly from my sin Those sins which in my misery Too justly claim supremacy Wash in the streams that strong Rock gave Which Mercy in the Deserts clave Dry Deserts which no water have Wash o're and o're that I may be A living Temple ' gain for thee For Lord in most prostrate address I my most crimson Crimes confess Nor doth their Image day or night One Moment dye out of my sight Only to thy All-seeing Eye Their hideous Form did naked lye Who only dost my secrets see The only Judg to punish me That 't were most just to purge the same With thy fierce Fury's hottest Flame Whilst thou dost clearly vindicate Thy sacred Sentence from debate And baffle their proud Blasphemy Who dare Arraign thy Equity Triumphing in a perdite sense Of no o're-ruling Providence Or charge All-love with cruelty O purge and heal my Malady For I alas diseased thing Deriv'd from a contagious Spring Black Spots to my first light did bring And e're I into light was sent From the dark Womb the rudiment The fertile seeds of Vice did take Into my liquid Natures make But thou Great Faith whose changeless might Cannot ' mids storms but stand upright Art simple Truth whom never guile No not in shadow could defile This doth thy sacred Love so prize That tho with vicious Fumes made blind Thou hast inlighten'd my dark eyes VVith beams of Glorious Promises That I through hidden VVisdom find Tho all the pow'rs of Night combin'd Me to seduce to thee a way Blest Father of Eternal Day Purge therefore my foul Leprosie Thy loathing and my misery VVith Hyssop in the sacred Flood Of thine own Son 's dear VVater-Blood VVhose side a willing Sluce did prove To let out that Red-Sea of Love That I I washt with it might be VVhiter than Snow's Virginity O could I hear thy peaceful voice My bones which have been broken long How would they in a dance rejoice As if by fracture made more strong O make my mourning soul rejoice To hear good God! that pleasant voice I 'le not survey with rigorous eyes Thy numerous Impurities But rather will thy sins remove And drown them in my Sea of Love Great Parent of the World by whom All sprang from nothing's teeming VVomb Speak into me a heart that 's sound VVhere no defiling loves are found And in that heart renew a mind From earthly faeculence refin'd VVhere thine own Image true and bright Thy Royal Presence may delight To feast all Day to lodg all Night Here let Celestial Flames still burn That hence thy Spirit ne're may turn To leave me ' gain as liveless Urn For what wish I the healthful Grace And solid Joy of thy blest Face And that restor'd I may abide Let thy free Spirit ever guide VVith Kingly Conduct to suppress All rebel motions of the flesh Then shall I preach the Glories of thy name And crowds of Converts shall adore the same Reduc'd by my example to obey Thy sacred Laws from error 's crooked way God of my Life deliver from the Cries Of loud-tongue blood whose voice surmounts the Skies Our guilty Land so shall be all day long Great Good and Just the burden of our Song Rouse up my living Lire my breast inspire With vigorous sparks of pure Seraphick Fire That Heart and Tongue enlarg'd their strains may raise To sing Great Harmony thy noble Praise Mercy and Judgment sing how they in thee By discord Notes most lovingly agree Thou art not pleas'd with Thousands of Young Rams Nor with the Hollicosts of fat of Lambs Or fairest Bulls prepar'd with holy Flames The VVorld is thine but lo a Heart contrite A Spirit broken with sins heavy weight Abhorring Fraud is thy blest Heart's delight Lo such I offer such to thee I lift My God accept and crown thine own free gift O may men see so long as Night knows Moon And whilst the Sun makes Morning and the Noon Thy Face serene to guild fair Sion's Hill Thy Holy Church with Heavenly Splendor fill Behold the Rents view well her batter'd VValls Mark how alas she shakes she totters falls Cement her breaches with a lasting Peace And let her held-proof bulwarks still increase That hostile Nations may her Progress more Admire than at her back-ward course before Then shall the Righteous great Sionian King VVith free-will Joy their live Oblations bring Of hallow'd Bodies with pure Souls to grace Like fruitful Palms thine Owner's dwelling-place Then shall thy Votaries come from all parts With whole Burnt Offerings of inflamed hearts With zealous love which breathe up to the Skies Thick Clouds of Pray'rs a grateful Sacrifice With thy sweet Incense Jesu well perfum'd And lofty Praises tho but lowly tun'd Then shall they still on thy blest Altar's place Thy Royal Son the Brightness of thy Face VVhere all our Delila's in bonds succeed And Victims to his Love our hatred breed And this shall more thy pleasure more thy love Than all the pomp of Heccatombs can move THE Comfortable MOURNER A SERMON On Matth. V. 4 Blessed are they that mourn for they shall be comforted BLEST blest are they who for their follies mourn Their Sorrow shall to greatest Triumph turn Ashes to Beauty sad Sackcloth to white Out-boasting all the Glories of the Light VVant of such Grief speaks a Lethargick State O deadly Symptom of a Reprobate Whilst active Grief is Comforts Excellence The brisk acuteness of the vital sense Quick feeling 't is which where it doth most thrive Proclaims the Soul most vig'rously alive Mourn then rejoice in it your healthful wound When searcht with wine shall smoothest oyl make sound That precious Oyl which speaks to every part With Balmy Lips its great Composers Art Able to turn afflicted Joseph's cold Hard Shackles of Iron into Chains of Gold And lend his Tears more Vertue to refine His Mirth than all th' ungrateful Butler's wine The Dove-like Comforter wlll pardon sing More pleasant than the chantings of the Spring Into your peaceful tho once thundered Ears Good Cheer these Eyes shall see the fertile tears Make this your Bakah Pleasures to afford Like Paradice the Garden of the Lord When Harvest shouts shall drown all noise of toil In cultivating your well-watered soil And you go up fair Sion's Hill which leaves All Pools behind with loads of wealthy sheaves
mighty Flowing Streams Of clearest light to make an open way For Glories perfect O Eternal Day No VVaxings VVanings vary this Nor Clouds or fear of Clouds draw near To fully or disturb its Bliss So far above the Atmosphere III. Father of Lights then of thy Love Send down thy Spirit which may prove As Salve to clear from Scales my Clouded Eyes That I may see thy Sun when he doth rise And all my observations take By thy most sacred Rules which make The simple wise and with unerring hand To steer their Course to the Eternal Land In roughest Storms through proudest Seas O make this day one advance more Most blest Three-One to the true ease Of its most-to-be-wished Shore IV. But Night 's far spent and day 's at hand Am I in dark Oblivion's Land Shall my Soul lie worse than a stupid beast Not to Salute fair light from yonder East O mind me how that sweet-lookt thing Did first from thee great Good-Word spring VVhen thou the obscure Chaos did'st refine And Beauteous form in Nature 'gan to shine But say 't is done let there be light In my dark Soul which still lies in The dismal shades of Ghostly Night And deep in the Abyss of sin V. But Night 's far spent and day 's at hand Am I in dark Oblivion's Land Shall my Soul lie worse than a stupid Beast Not to Salute fair light from yonder East O! let it mind me what did shine Great God-Man when thy Stars Divine To humble Shepherds did glad tidings Sing Of thy amazing Birth Immortal King Glory to God in highest peace On Earth to sinful man good will VVhich never now again can cease Since God to Man 's United still VI. But Night 's far spent and Day 's at hand Am I in dark Oblivion's Land Shall my Soul lye worse than a stupid Beast Not to salute fair light from yonder East O mind me of that dawning Day VVhen thou thy rising did'st display Great God in pow'r and splendor from the dead As well became after thy setting red Give Life and Light that I may leave My Grave of sin as Bed to run In thy blest strength which I receive To worship thee my Rising Sun VII But Night 's far spent and Day 's at hand Am I in dark Oblivion's Land Shall my Soul lye worse than a stupid Beast Not to Salute fair Light from yonder East O let it mind me of that Light To which Good God! our Noon is Night Blest Shechinah where thy great Clemency Hath carr'd in Triumph our Humanity Refine my Nature from dross Dregs That I may presently contend And tho alas with heavy Legs Make where first Fruits thou didst ascend VIII But Night 's far spent and Day 's at hand Am I in dark Oblivion's Land Shall my Soul lye worse than a stupid Beast Not to Salute fair Light from yonder East O let it mind me of what light VVhen thou com'st Judg in Clouds most bright When at thy Trumpets New-Creating call The Dead from their Dust-beds shall start up all O may I live that sleep to take VVith which thou dost thy dear ones bless That when thou callest I may wake To see thy Face in Righteousness IX The Night 's far spent and day 's at hand Am I in dark Oblivions Land Remains my body like a stupid Beast Not mov'd by nimble light from yonder East Which flows full through the Hemisphere And tells the busie Sun is near Up up thy foreheads sweat justly decreed Must now to pleasing ease and sleep succeed Then make thy face God! on me shine That with new Sp'rits and vig'rous Joy I may pursue thy Work and mine O prosper Lord in just employ Hymnus Vespertinus OR The EVENING SONG THrice Blest my God and King The only Spring Of every good and perfect Thing Thou hast preserv'd my ways Accept my Praise This and all other my past days And now the Shades come on O Living Sun Go not out of my Horizon Stream forth thy glorious Light That I by Night May count my past days sins aright But how shall I recall These Errors all Which under numbers will not fall O hide them in that night Which from our sight Did take and hide the Worlds great Light To thy all-piercing sight My darkest Night Is clearer than to us Noon-light O let this thought me bring To keep within My heart and hand from secret sin When I my Clay undress Do thou me bless From rags of all Unrighteousness Who knows where I may have My Bed for Grave O then receive my Soul and save Great VVatch on whom no sleep Doth ever creep In grateful rest I pray me keep From all malignant things Which darkness brings Under the shadow of thy Wings Dart forth thy healthful beams Dispel these steams Which cause or cherish hurtful dreams Pitch round me Angels Tent And from thee sent Let them blest Visions represent As in thy Jacob's Night A Ladder bright Thee on the Top my Shield and Light Whilst they to thee ascend And from thee bend By turns thy Jewels to defend So shall I in thy arms Circled from harms Be lull'd to bliss with sweetest charms Whilst gently from above Thy favours prove My safeguard and my bed of love When I awake move me To sing of thee And meditate on thy Mercy And with the Mornings wings As Light begins To flye to thee great King of Kings TO THE Candid READER NOW because amongst all Moral Christian Vertues which indeed differ only as the rude and the compleat draught Christianity being but summum Morale Morality refined and sublimated to an heroical and diviner pitch humility and meekness are of all other most eminently exercised by an All-Wise Holy Just and good particular Providence and by its exercitations rendred more conspicuous and resplendent I therefore thought it not impertinent to annex as an Appendix to the foregoing debate a Poetical Sermon on each of these most Divine and Metropolitan Graces Nor may the name of Sermon here applied offend any with a seeming incongruity that have but cursorily read not to say any thing of the most harmonious Sermons of the Royal and other sweet Singers of Israel the excellent composures of at least the Prince tho not the King of Latin Poets exhibiting Instances of the like both Nature and Title And because these Mother Vertues Humility and Meekness never look more like themselves than in their genuine and most true begotten Daughters Repentance and Obedience particularly that which hath for her proper and immediate object humane Power Obedience to God never evidencing it self more than in a reverent and facile subjection to those his most Wise and most Good Providence hath thought meet to set over us I have therefore moreover added a Penitential Song in Four Parts and Three Anti-Phanatical Poems Anti-Phanatical I call thim for Phanatical and disobedient to humane Powers if deliberately inspected will appear to be in truth convertible Terms
owe this your immortal Frame Eternal King thy Royal Excellence Transcends the world's whole vast circumference It 's Scepter rules the Heavens in its Hand It holds the pond'rous Globe of Sea and Land Filling beyond the Empyreum high The boundless deserts of Immensity Glory and Beauty ever thee Infold As some incorruptible Cloath of Gold The Sun and Moon great Luminaries given To Beautify the outward Courts of Heaven VVith all the Stars bespangling blackfac'd night Are brightish shades of thy primeval light No more to that than what dark nights permit In putrid Sticks to play the Hypocrite Or in Glow-worms can come in splendor near A Summer Solstice highest in its Sphere VVith this thy Royal Palace flows alone VVith this thou cloathest thy blest self and Throne O! strong ey'd Eagles dare not it behold T would blind the Cherubim were they too bold Unvail'd to gaze on tho in proper place The brightness of the Beatifick Face VVhat tongues of men or Angels can express Thy Kingdom 's unconceived Gloriousness Tho shadow'd out and glim'ringly descri'd By Heaven's most magnificent outside It 's Glorious Host all with great Letters Write God in their Frontispiece by their own Light Their Light shows his which never knew to rise Wax Wane Eclipse and never setting dies Their Order his each motion of them tend To that which none but he that made can mend Nor Solve the least Phenomena of it By their Romantick Whirli-pools of Wit He Rules them all with Law which by consent Unanimous they all Obey content To move on their own Centers as they were First bad like Fishes in a Sea of Air By no informing Life of Reason Sense Nor outward assisting Intelligence Old Sages dreams except that mind profound Which every where and no where can be found Piercing unseen all things which we may call The only truly Universal Soul This first these mighty Machins did display Keeps still in well-tun'd motion since that day No clash no jar who this Contemplates hears The Pythagorean Musick of the Spheres Which speaks great God of Peace the Harmony Of thy most Wise Celestial Hierarchy And of thy Universal Monarchy Their vig'rous Vertues shew their Makers strength Which knows no height or depth no breadth or length How cheerful goes the Sun Like some Bridegroom Advancing forth of his attiring Room Adorn'd with Gold and Gemms on every side Burning to meet the Lovely sloathful Bride Whom Bedded Moon and Stars by his lent light Revel and Dance out the Ensuing night Nor knows their Cheer decay but each days Sun Doth like a Wine-refreshed Giant run His Race no stop his Labour loves no Rest That all may with his Life-full Heat be Blest From their Harmonious Courses time begun And seasons with their various Tempers sprung Day into Night Spring into Autumn dyes With these and after dead with these arise Besides their common Influence and light The Stars in Martial Mode his Battels Fight Who calls them all to Muster by their Names And of their force a dread Militia Frames Witness thou Ancient River Fam'd Kishon Thou Gibeon and thou Vale of Aijalon They March in Order at his bare Command And at his word ' midst their Carreers they stand Beneath these Glorious Globes next thou spread'st out What a rare Orb of Immixt Fire about Or in the Ample hollow of the Moon Which Astronomick Hawks would spy out soon Were not its Nature so Refin'dly good Not to be seen felt heard or understood No Thou great Wisdom which o're all dost reign Created'st nought in Natures Frame in vain The Liquid Heaven of Expanded Air A spacious Tent Magnificently Fair Three noble Stories compassing Earth's Globe Stupendious Frame rooft with a Starry Robe The low'rmost Room where Winged Creatures Fly Hath hanging Waters for its Canopy In which the Architect hath lay'd the Floor And Beams of his Etherial Chambers o're Wond'rous Geometry these without fear On Waters Lean Waters on Fleeting Air. There March the Clouds which the great King of Kings Rules as his Chariots Wheel'd with swift Winds On which he Rides Triumphant when Descends wings To work his Judgments and his Mercies ends Hence roar dread Might thy great Artillery When thou speak'st Thunder from the Flaming Sky Tho mostly conduits thorow which thy hands Make glad with Streams of Fatness Thirsty Lands O! the unseen Divinest Majesty Vouchsaf'd in Shining Clouds to Humane Eye Like Doves and Eagles with their outspread wing They hover light and Glorious Angels bring Courtiers of Heaven to represent the mind Profound which no quick Lynceus's Eye can find Who by his Ministers thus oft appears Sometimes in Flames sometimes white subtil Airs As Stars Fire Air by motion do his will So heavy Earth obeys by standing still Lo how it stands on it self firmly bas't The World's fix'd center by deep wisdom plac't That poiz'd with its own weight ' midst fluid Air Can fall no way O hand which plac'd it there Unless quite cross to Nature it should soon Fall upwards Mountains tumbling to the Moon O thou whose Throne 's above the lofty Skies In Glory unapproacht by mortal Eyes If we descend beneath the silent Cells Of all the Dead thy boundless Self there dwells We find thee in vast Treasures without end Which nought but Avarice can comprehend Art thou not in the Mother Waters deep Near to the Region's confines where no sleep Allays the restless pains of Damned Souls In blackest darkness who with horrid Howls Ring doleful Knells to their Eternal Death Which ever Lives whose pangs are still in birth Or could we with the mornings wings take flight To th' utmost Sea swift as a Dart of Light Thy right Hand in a thought us apprehends Which far beyond all tracts of Sea extends 'T was thy out-stretched Arm which cloath'd the Globe Of Earth with Sea first as a water'd Robe Then a wav'd belt wonder of wisdom made For maintenance of Universal Trade Betwixt all Lands with Law it Ebbs and Flows Which all Eyes see how no grand Sophy knows It 's Tow'ring Floods at thy rebuke are lay'd And fly at thy loud Thunder's Voice afraid As in just Noah's days when for mens sins To Clouds dens'd Air Sea Treasure-house of Springs Thy fury let an uncontrouled way To make the Universe one Shoreless Sea Waves 'bove the tops of Hills lift their proud head At thy Command at thy Command they fled Aw'd all by thy rebuke's Majestick Grace With haste away to their appointed place And tho they now like Mountains rise again Fall down like Vallies to a spacious Plain Their bounds are fixt by thine Almighty hand Which rein's their rage with nought but cords of Sand That they shall ne're return to drown the Land Through spungy bottoms they occultly creep Into the Mother VVaters silent deep Great Treasure-House still teeming VVomb of some Clear pleasant Fountains whence sweet waters come Through strange Meanders percolated from The Native saltness of the Oceans VVomb Or who knows
God not man they cry for worms The God a prey then in a moment turns Colossus-like strutting his Glorious Court VVhat have not I for my most mighty Port This Palace built boasts Nebo of the East Then turn'd from men he pastures with the beast His Palace to a Forest singing Boys And Maids are turn'd to Bats and Owls hoarse noise So greatly swelling minds Lycanthropise Themselves to bruits from demi-deities To bruits Nay fiends whilst full of grins and groans They yet aspire still to unequal Thrones Nor is the humble Port less fair to men VVhilst hate attends the haughty Diadem And as Experience speaks the man that 's proud Goes closely curs'd of his adoring croud If Honour be the Honourer's esteem Then from dishonours who can him redeem Much fear'd not lov'd just as the Nations prize VVhen they adore their evil Deities The Rising Sun Sejanus sees on high But Setting sees him in a Dungeon lye But now the people worshipp'd him he falls And then they cry to the Gemonian Scales O humble Greatness like the Mind profound VVhich stoops in gentle Dews to kiss the ground His lucid Globes the Shadows of his Crown Tho placed high yet still are looking down Nor take we measures of their Excellence But from their kind and lowly Influence Such Excellence spight of themselves all must VVith bosom-worship honouring the dust VVhilst Pride big-lookt as more than half-divine Is trod for dirt when its supports decline For why do the infernal Lions lay Themselves like lowly Lambs To gain a Prey So grin with haughty Heart yet couching Knee Thy painful Praise Divine Humility But shameful Grief that Devils chiefly find Apt place for this in humane shape and kind In humane shape and kind How we unhinge Our lofty Poles caress and cant and cringe To gain deluded Troops when Policy VVould Pride inthrone by feign'd Humility Yet foaming waves still toss th' ambitious mind VVhich lab'ring like a troubled Sea can find No rest Now up she mounts to Heaven above VVhich if she cannot bend then Hell she 'l move So that her inmost Chambers represent A streight and current foul and violent VVhich in still Night the Bed made for repose VVith boisterous Perturbations overflows What threatning Rocks Gulfs Sholes Quick-sands beside Ten thousand dangers chiefly wait on Pride Nor doth she rarely meet with VVinds and Seas Both opposite which sup her up with ease In rapid Ruins farewel Sun and Light Deep Vortex equal to her humours height Sometimes in prosp'rous Gales her lofty eye The head-lands of fair-haven boasts to spy Then all her waves of swelling Passions rise And scorn the limits of the starry skies VVhen on a sudden blows a cross-ful gust That back to sea her gallant bottom must Or hostile Rocks shall wrack her in distress Just on the shore of her thought happiness O most unsafe when least of fears she knows VVhen at the best still up and down she flows Her Honour under-sail lives all on breath And when at Anchor but an inch from death VVitness great Haman's bliss in all his Pride That ebbs when this is at the highest Tide Haman the great Haman the only man In honouring whom the mighty Monarch can Delight himself Haman the Rising Sun To worship whom lo all the Persians run Haman the great Haman whose eyes contemn As worms all others or as Pigmy men Compar'd with his more than Gigantick Port VVhen he looks from his Sinai at the Court Yet one poor Mordecai's ah stubborn knee The pleasures of his Glory makes to flee And yield to anguish their deserted seat Alas 't is all too little to be great VVhen on the highest peak of Honour there How slippery is his station with what fear Not all from others who salute his rise VVith clouds of arrows from their envious eyes Some still impatient of a parallel And all of such as haughtily excell But from himself whose head sometimes unsound Still unsecure stands in a place profound Fatal when fumes from giddy passions fly And urge the dangers of a dazling eye Sometimes disquiet in their proper sphere They to the Sun of Honour soar so near That these bright beams which cherish humble things Consume or melt their daring waxen wings Or tho like Comets for a while they blaze And terrors move in all that on them gaze Their own fierce motion urging to a Flame Whose glaring streams beget a dreadful name Their greatest splendor then predicts a fall They burn and turn from whence they did exhale To fordid earth and only leave behind Such dire effects as men with curses mind But thou like the fair Lady of the Night First of the eight blest Sisters art most bright When most at humble distance from thy Sun Sweet Lowliness then thou dost nearest come Nor hath thy fair-skinn'd Beauty least excess When sable Morpheus thou dost most confess Let Great Ones faithless Fortune on a round Thou on a square sitt'st safest near the ground Up goes the scale with thee fall low or high Tho Earth and Sea were mingled with the sky But what needs this the lesser is the more Fit to get into Heavens narrow Door Which will not yield to those whose heads attempt With high Deserts to knock the Firmament The Firmament poor Nought and Dirt look down And meditate the rise of thy proud Crown View gravely thy deformed feet how shall Thy Peacocks Crest and brisling Plumes but fall For is thy soul to an eclipse so prone As when most full of what are not her own But borrowed beams of the Eternal Light Compar'd with whom a Summers noon is night And all the Morning Stars which sang and play'd In consort when the Worlds first stone was laid Therefore with Jesus who for Scepters look Must stoop with Jesus to the lowly Brook On whose fresh Banks the Flowers all are found VVherewith Celestial Princes must be Crown'd Most lowly Jesu make my heart a Plot Most humbly seated O the happy Lot To be a Valley where thy soul may feed ' Midst Lillies which to thy warm beams succeed And through thy Merits may sweet Odours breathe And garland me with an immortal wreath Did Pride throw Lucifer with his bright Train Of morning-stars from their affected Reign Man out of Paradise whilst Might in Thrones The lowly in the seats of lofty ones Behold thy Handmaid Lord my naked soul Thy spotless Robe can cover all that 's foul Make her fair Daughrer of thee King most high By being Mother to Humility By this was thine to carnal sense tho odd Both Royal VVife and Mother of great God Of the Blest Jesu But what match thee can Whose sovereign God becam'st a Serving-man A Serving-man as vile a slave did'st die VVhil'st Prince of Life and immortality VVhat nobler Pride this side the Starry Sky Than to Transcribe such rare Humility Humility outwondring Miracle God stoops to man and Heaven unto Hell Stoop my stout heart thou that canst all
rest Who only know'st can'st wilt'st effect the best Should'st thou thy Vice-roys and deputed Gods The higher powers make my scourging Rods O! let me kiss them dreading to defy The Image of Immortal Majesty Both in it self and other placed near As serving Angels in a higher sphear Whilst I accost all with obliging Grace In both an equal an inferior place Compose my frame for pardon to be prone To give to others and to crave my own I in the Jewel of the Christian Crown Not on my wrath to leave the Sun go down But rather heap thick blessings which may prove Coals on their Heads to melt them into Love Their thoughtful Heads with causeless wrath who burn And sulph'rous Flames for Lambent Fire return So may I God enjoy the Promise Land That part is all that 's measured by thy hand Tho in the midst of Thorns should be my lot Thy favour makes it a most pleasant Plot Secure of which how should I ever cease To rise refresh't when I lie down in peace Lacrimae Penitentiales OR A Penitential SONG in Four Parts in Poetical Meditations on the Principal of the Penitential Psalms ODE I. On Psalm VI. I. O Sea and every Spring Your Floods and Rivers bring To my Heads deep That I may weep A Deluge for my Sin II. My sins whose heads above All height Blest Jesu move Except the Flood Of thy dear Blood And Mountains of thy Love III. Then Lord rebuke me not Whilst thy fierce Wrath is hot But first asswage Thine Anger 's rage O spare hast thou forgot IV. Thou art the sick souls Friend Thy healthful hand Oh! lend Tho my sick heart Be my desert E're life my languors end V. The pow'rs of Night combin'd That my afflicted mind Whilst Bones opprest Obtain no rest No truce from Flames may find VI. How long without relief Wilt thou leave me to grief O turn in Love And let me prove Thy Mercy still is chief VII My soul from Hell return Why should thy Fury burn Till cruel death Leaves me no breath To praise thee in mine Urn VIII I tire each night with groans Which beat my breast like stones Ah t'other day More hard than they What tongues can tell my moans IX My bed made for repose No sleep no quiet knows But from mine eyes Such Floods arise That it quite overflows X. Behold my hollow eyes How strength and beauty dies Betwixt the storms And piercing thorns Of my souls Enemies XI Away hence far depart All ye which drew my heart With vain delights And pleasant baits To this most bitter smart XII But thou my God rejoice To hear my mournful voice For Jesus Tears Receive my Pray'rs A Penitent's thy choice XIII Let his great Merit 's Name O're-whelm my foes with shame And put to flight Their blustring might Whilst I extol the same ODE II. On Psalm XXIII THrice blessed man whose sins are wash't off in the flood Of dearest blood Most Blessed Jesu from thy launced side And all whose foul deformity From the strict eye Of Purity Thy spotless Robe of Innocence doth hide Bless'd man when the most Righteous Judg shall quit from guilt each part That no black guile Shall to defile Be found in Tongue or Heart II. Blest man sing still my soul for whilst that I in pride My wounds did hide From thee the sole Physician of my health Through Racks which would no measure find My Spirits pin'd Vigour declin'd And old age seis'd my bones by force not stealth Both day and night thy hand prest me moisture to drought did turn My hopes were worn Like stalks of Corn Which raging Summers burn III. But when my putrid sores I nakedly addrest And all confest To thy my great Physician 's tender eye Thou cool'st the ardors of my Sin Remov'dst its sting And ease didst bring With precious balm which strongest poisons fly A precious Balm Gilead could thine both guilt and filth remove Which made my wound Both clean and sound A Balm of bleeding love IV. For this the pious Troops will still frequent thy Court In joyful sort With Incense of their sacred Vows great King Inflam'd with Love of Grace the Prime In thy due time From every Clime Nor will they doubt secure from fear to sing But tho a universal flood should swiftly on them rise They should find place To praise thy Grace ' Midst their Calamities V. Thou art my only Tow'r where I can run to fly The Enemy Whose shorten'd rage thy Mercies Pow'r prolongs Whilst thou dost glorious Trophies raise Each of my days To thy great Praise And circles me with glad victorious Songs I hear thee I 'le dispel these mists and foggs which make thee blind That day seems night And Darkness Light To thy obscured Mind VI. If thou prove not like to the stupid Horse and Mule Whom Curbs must rule I 'le guide thee with mine own auspicious eyes Which well attended shall not cease Thy Lights to ' crease In ways of Peace Till thou attain'st Celestial Palaces When thou shalt see what Plagues expect conceal'd impieties What Saints shall reap Tho now they weep In hopeful Miseries VII Then lift up O my soul thy drooping Head and Heart And Joy in smart With all that love a pure Heart and pure Hand See in your Tears your Sun most bright In Darkness Light Blest Day in Night From boist'rous Seas a firm Eternal Land Ye which have mourn'd like Doves now in a sacred Quire rejoice Sing 't is our God That was our Rod With a triumphing Voice ODE III. On Psalm XXXVIII A Pindarick ODE I. WHat laps'd again Poor Wretch into thy former burning pain Alas too daring Confidence Betray'd me sadly to improsp'rous negligents Which gave my Enemies Whose greedy Eyes Are full of sleepless Cruelties Both Strength and Time Of all the Flower and Prime For new Surprize II. What shall I do hast thou but one For thee I must now wooe blest Jesu King of Mercies most imperial Throne One cordial drop with which thy life-full death Did once revive my dying breath Yes yes they in vast multitude excel As Heaven doth Earth and infinitely more So high so deep so large so full is thy rich Mercies store All sins of sinful Earth and Hell Then great All-love whose tender Womb Alone gives life and breath to every thing Before I go to my long silent home From thy soft breasts let one drop spring One drop full Paps to lay my parching heat Whose Paroxisms never were so strong so great III. My Maker and the World's as good as just O mind my Mould I am but Dust Strike lo I meekly kiss the kind paternal Rod But strike not as my Lord but God Not whilst thy Justice with a Flaming Sword Stands ready to avenge thy Royal VVord But with thy Mercy close at hand Its fury to withstand For how do thy most mighty keenest Arrows stick Fast in my Breast And yet by thy Right Hand still deeper prest I
Then 'gins great Jubile whose welcom ease Gains from past pains an Emphasis of praise For think to whom sweet rest so grateful can Appear as to the weary labouring man What Tears remain shall be as Orient Gems To beautifie your sacred Diadems And memory of grief not to alloy But sublimate the spirits of your Joy Thus blackish Moles prove Beauty-Spots to grace Not to deform true Vertues God-like Face But ah true Vertue Lord is far from me I know but serve not thy blest Deity What shall I do I want due strength not will Do thou Great Might my bruitish Passions kill My sins grow daily stronger and are more Than all the Sands by Seas washt on the Shore Fain would I mourn Blest Wisdom teach me how But not how much for I can ne'r enow First give me pious tears then Living Vine Turn turn those tears into Immortal Wine Which nobled with thy Blood All-Righteousness Who trod'st alone the overflowing Press May glad not only my poor heart but all The mighty States of Heavens great White-hall The blest Three One will take what sweet content When they behold their mourning Penitent My Great Creator welcome new-made Son My Dear Redeemer what my Blood hath done My Holy Comforter let me embrace My Precious Convert and augment his Grace Refreshing him with shades of Dovy wings And then each Pole with Peals of Anthems rings From good-will'd Angels who much more rejoice For one that mourns than Ninety nine so choice As not to know they need a mournful voice O Joyful Grief O mourning Festival Preparing Virgins for the Bridegrooms call Come panting hearts come to consummate bliss I 'le you caress with an Eternal Kiss Put off your sable Weeds on Robes all white Becoming best the Lambs blest Nuptial Light Whose Beauty you shall find much much more bright When you compare it with your former Night A Night whose shades deceasing soon as born Give place to Joys most perfect Mid-day Morn Fresh still as Infancy as Manhood Strong New as each Instant yet as Ever long THE Epiologue or Corollary from all the Premises in opposition to the principal Tenent of the Garden that is of Epicurus and his Followers who Phylosophized anciently in a Garden viz. Their Opinion of no over-ruling Providence as being utterly destructive of the Happiness and highly derogatory to the Majesty of a God to stoop to and interfere with the care of any sub-Celestial and especially Terrestrial Affairs Which Doctrine their Philosophical Poet sings in these Verses Omnis enim per se divum natura necesse'st Immortali aevo summa cum pace fruatur Semota ab nostris rebus sejunctaque longe Nam privata dolore omni privata periclis Ipsa suis pollens opibus nihil indiga nostri Nec bene per meritus capitur nec tangitur ira Lucret. lib. 1. Which the Oxford Swan hath thus excellently taught English For whatsoe're's divine must live in Peace In undisturb'd and everlasting ease Not care for us from fears and dangers free Sufficient to its own felicity Nought here below nought in our power it needs Ne're smiles at good nor frowns at wicked deeds Mr. Creech in his Elevation of Lucretius THen sing live Lute that whatsoe're's divine Is not as fanci'd by the Garden Swine Men who to Fortunes chances all ascribe And think the world no Masters hand doth guide But Nature rolls the rounds of Day and Year And so they touch all Altars without fear What 's God of all below must careless be Not Saints from Friends not Fogs from Incense Diseern not praising from blaspheming tongue Ne're shine on right nor storm at impious wrongs As if it were abasing to a God To cast one glance on a terrene abode As if good God! Supreme felicity Did wholly in a lazy posture lye And to thy bliss it needs disturbance brings To intermeddle with the care of things Chiefly of that which from mean Seed begins O bruits that shape a God out of the vain Ideas of their own distempered brain And suited to their vicious natures strain Shall we supiness and an idle state Make Gods chief bliss which good men scorn and hate Esteeming it the Glory of great Kings VVith guardiant eyes to shield the shrubs of things Gods Bliss to whose unlimitable quick eye All things are present and all naked lye So that without discourse which labour brings He comprehends the perfect rule of things Gods bliss the beck of whose Almighty Hand VVhole Natures force nay Nothing can't withstand But into Something springs at his command To whom to make more Worlds is easier found Than to take up an Acorn from the Ground To all the Garden Swine Since then the ' ternal Pow'r can live in Peace Yet foster all and rule with perfect ease Nor in the least his Grandeur thus displease VVhy murmur ye that ye his Goodness find To you more than you to your own selves kind Ungrateful Swine Go herd your selves and run With one fowl Mouth to grunt against the Sun For humbling his high Heav'nly self so low As with warm Beams to make your Pastures flow And talk no more that Heaven nothing needs To banish quite from Earth Religious deeds As if a Peasant should not Homage pay Of Grateful Honours to his Prince and say I humbly thank my Gracious Lord the King From whom to me such Bounties daily Spring Because the mighty Monarch needs no Clown To grace with thanks the Jewels of his Crown True the Almighty Kings Imperial Bliss Plac'd in his Self 's high Contemplation is The Mirror and great Architype of all That solid reason Great and Good can call That not all Hymns from Men and Angels sent His Native Bliss and Glory can Augment As much as one poor spark bound upwards may Augment the Brightness of an August day Why then should this most blisful One Create The World and still with care ore rule its State Ask why the Sun doth flow in ampler Streams Than Moon or Stars why with more generous Beams Why do the Heavens so Bless the Womb of Earth With Vital Heat and Seed for Fruitful Birth Why from the Brooks such puny purlings come Whilst Nile with Thundring Floods sets from his home And Yearly hugs blest Egypt's wealthy Land With the orewhelming bounty of his Hand Why doth the Sea with restless kindness too To all th' unnumbred Springs supplies renew Whilst narrow Cisterns just begin to flow And straight they fail dry up and empty grow Why are some Lands of such an hide-bound soil And so ungrateful to the Tillers toil When Rich returns from better natur'd ground To fill his Mouth and Deck his Head are found And Plains with freewill Fruits and Flowers Crown'd Why doth most Beauty most compliant prove With the sweet motions of all noble Love And why such Clemency such goodness find We from the Valiant and Heroick mind For still the largest Soul is the most
kind 'T is 't is because things of themselves are free According to their nat'ral Goods degree So greatest Goods love most self to diffuse Therefore did God whole Nature's frame produce Therefore from one Point willing lines are found To spring and pass all numbers and all bound Of which no cause can well-purg'd ears approve But one Self and all moving Sea of Love And thou my Soul know'st he who knows no ends Of Days of Bliss of Glory condescends Meek Lowly vales to visit with kind Eyes Their Springs of Penitential Waters rise Not thinking therefore that this Ocean looks Or needs assistance from such puny Brooks Yet every Hour and Moment of each day Send grateful Rivers to the boundless Sea Not as Earth's Fountains to recruit but show That thou to it thy self and all dost owe. AN ADDRESS TO A LOYAL PENCIL BEING A gentle Satyr against the Arch Fanaticism of our days and the Substance of some Antifanatical Poems Publickly Communicated in Manuscript when the Lopping or Excluding Faction was in its Meridian and highest Impudence the contraction of which into this one tho Composed before the Birth of the last most Holy Rebellion may yet be less Impertinent than wish'd to our present Circumstances if we consider the possibility of a remaining root of bitterness and the secret throws of Santa Pretenza for her after-burden Beware of false Prophets which come to you in Sheeps-Cloathing but inwardly they are Ravening Wolves ye shall know them by their Fruits Matth. 7.15 Pictoribus atque Poetis Quidlibet audendi semper fuit aequa Potestas Seimus hanc veniam petimusque damusque vicissem To Painters and to Poets still hath been An equal power of daring any thing We know of old and humbly crave such leave And such to all with all our Heart we give Horat. de Art Poet. ADDRESS TO A PAINTER DEAR Painter Draw a Sepulcher within Full fraught with dead mens Bones a 〈◊〉 some thing As Putrid stuff can make without more white If possible than Virgins Snow or Light Or what 's the same draw Fiends as lately made The only Saints in Holy Masquerade No wonder Sir these should themselves so fly To Refuge in a Contrariety For from the first the Dev'l us'd this deceit And dearly lov'd to play the Counterfeit Shame and his Policy inforcing to 't To hide what might all but his Cloven Foot For such is his Deformed Excellence 'T would scare both Scot-and-Lot-men out of sence Should he appear upon Election In his own shape to move Affection No no he knows his Picture would not take But only for the Golden Frame 's sweet sake Zelub left out he doubts not to do well Looking as if his Name was only Bell. Pray Draw him therefore with a curious Hand And let his Worship like an Image stand Inricht all over with the Temple's spoils Which no presumptious spot or wrinkle foils Make his grim Blackmores Face and Hands most bright With glorious gilt of fresh Angelick light In all so feigning forms of Sanctity As if new-sent from the Empir'al Sky In these he may succesfully trepan At least the honest-hearted Christian VVho oft mistakes a Jezebel for Saint Adores for Native Beauty sordid Paint By her starch'd looks and Oyly Tongue which talks Nought but the Holy Land bewitcht he walks Admiring her till by Syrenean Charms He 's Conjur'd in the Circle of her Arms Here Hug'd he lives in Blindness till he Dies Poor wretch the Worst of all Captivities Then prethee Pencil be most Exquisite To draw this Dev'l when Factious bolt-upright Let him not in the least peep out his Nose Of Door but in Religious Sundays Cloaths Grave Black on Maiden VVhite to keep fast in His supple wits which are prone forth to spring VVhen great pains taking opes the little Doors Through fervency which nat'ral men call Pores Add hallowed Frontlets of the largest size A Cloak more than the half Phylacteries His Chariot must be Flaming Zeal whereon With Jehu's Tongue he acts a Phaeton Saints all like Angels for his numerous Train And Kings made wicked to make good his Reign Kings with their fetter'd Nobles on each side To Grace his Chariot with triumphant pride Paint Lively on his Lips the sacred word And in his Hand a double-edged Sword Motto'd for and against to separate 'Twixt Godlike Caesars Person and his State To fight the Lairds own Battels Mauger Laws The Lairds own Battels in the Devils Cause O Prince of sins what Heaven mod defies Dares that of Heaven borrow a disguise Rebellion which with Witchcrafts cursed Hands Profanes and violates all Holy Bands By Covenant with Hell and the Black Prince Quite to Renounce Heavens highest Excellence VVhilest horrid thing it spitefully agrees To scorn on Earth his sacred Deputies And that in all the likeness may hold good The Solemn Covenant is sign'd with Blood Their own malignant Blood which Rebels must Give to appease th' Infernal Dragons thirst Not only theirs but Blood of Innocents And from Bazillick Veins astonishments Confound me here and horror sense prevents But draw an Altar under which still cry Thick Purple Bands of Martyr'd Loyalty Incircling round a bleeding Royal Love Like a meek Lamb crown'd with a gall-less Dove How long just Pow'rs shall our dear Blood be found Yet unappeas'd to die the Brittish ground And yet near by paint Adders which appear Stopping ' gainst charms their unrelenting ear And Chairman Pilat with washt hands lift eyes Still mingling Blood with holy Sacrifice The Blood of the most holy Votaries Nor doth vain humour bring unto my mind Strange forms unheard-of shapes to make or find For never yet did Rebel-Devil ride But with both men and arms all sanctifi'd Consult a while your reverend Monuments And draw what their sage Story represents That this besotted Age may see it's old To hilt seditious Swords with Temple-Gold Give one for all proud Korahs company In formal ranks and let their Banners fly Inscrib'd The Lords own People all Holy Assertors of a Holy Liberty Lift up their Snow-white hands towards the Skies VVhilest poys'ned Arrows pelt their Dignities VVhat 's Moses or Saint Aaron that they thus Are they more holy Lord it over us Then whil'st with mouths full of a godly word They hand the Censor squinting on the Sword Let them approach the Altar whence alone They hope to Scale successfully the Throne Princes of Priests Oh Holy Violence Not in a Mystick but a lit'ral Sence At once to take what dares it not perform The Earths Heavens Kingdoms both by storm But Paint canst thou true fire or what 's the same Give Painted Fire a quick Vivacious Flame To which their Sacrilegious Zealots all Strange Fire strange Sacrifice Just Victims fall Now for Jacks Parentage Paint him begot On discontent kind Cats most happy lot On discontent by some Male Incubus Paint Faction Midwife Paint Sedition Nurse Paint black Rebellion bringing him at last To proper Man bad weed