A POSTSCRIPT UNTO THE READER.
And now, good Reader, I return again
To talk with thee who hast been at the pain
To read throughout and heed what went before;
And unto thee I'll speak a little more.
Give ear I pray thee unto what I say,
That God may hear thy voice another day.
Thou hast a Soul, my Friend, and so have I,
To save or lose; a Soul that cannot die;
A Soul of greater price than Gold or Gems;
A Soul more worth than Crowns and Diadems;
A Soul at first created like its Maker,
And of God's Image made to be partaker:
Upon the wings of noblest Faculties,
Taught for to soar above the Starry Skies,
And not to rest, until it understood
Itself possessed of the chiefest Good.
And since the Fall thy Soul retaineth still
Those faculties of Reason and of Will,
But oh! how much deprav'd and out of frame,
As if they were some other's, not the same!
Thine Understanding dismally benighted,
And Reason's eye in Spir'tual things dim-sighted,
Or else stark blind; thy Will inclin'd to evil,
And nothing else; a slave unto the Devil;
That loves to live, and liveth to transgress,
But shuns the way of God and Holiness.
All thine Affections are disorderéd,
And thus by headstrong Passions are misled.
What need I tell thee of thy crooked way,
And many wicked wand'rings every day?
Or that thine own transgressi-ons are more
In number than the sands upon the Shore?
Thou art a lump of wickedness become,
And may'st with horror think upon thy Doom,
Until thy Soul be washéd in the flood
Of Christ's most dear, soul-cleansing, precious-Blood.
That, that alone can do away thy sin,
Which thou wert born and hast long livéd in;
That, only that can pacify God's wrath,
If apprehended by a lively Faith,
Now whilst the day and means of Grace do last,
Before the opportunity be past.
But if, O man, thou liv'st a Christless creature,
And Death surprise thee in a state of nature,
(As who can tell but that may be thy case?)
How wilt thou stand before the Judge's face,
When he shall be reveal'd in flaming fire,
And come to pay ungodly men their hire,
To execute due vengeance upon those
That knew him not, or that had been his foes?
What wilt thou answer unto his demands,
When he requires a reason at thy hands,
Of all the things that thou hast said or done,
Or left undone, or set thine heart upon?
When he shall thus with thee expostulate:
"What cause hadst than thy Maker for to hate,
To take up arms against thy Sovéreign,
And enmity against him to maintain?
What injury hath God Almighty done thee?
What good hath he withheld that might have won thee?
What evil, or injustice hast thou found
In him that might unto thine hurt redound?
If neither felt nor fearéd injury
Hath movéd thee to such hostility,
What made thee then the Fountain to forsake,
And unto broken Pits thyself betake?
What reason hadst thou to dishonor God,
Who thee with Mercies never ceas'd to load?
Because the Lord was good hast thou been evil,
And taken part against him with the Devil?
For all his cost to pay him with despite,
And all his love with hatred to requite?
Is this the fruit of God's great patience,
To wax more bold in disobedience?
To kick against the bowels of his Love?
Is this aright his Bounty to improve?
Stand still, ye Heav'ns, and be astonishéd,
That God by man should thus be injuréd!
Give ear, O Earth, and tremble at the sin
Of those that thine Inhabitants have been!
But thou, vile wretch, hast added unto all
Thine other faults and facts so criminal,
The damning sin of willful unbelief;
Of all Transgressors hast thou been the chief.
Yet when time was thou might'st have been set free
From Sin and Wrath and punishment by me;
But thou would'st not accept of Gospel Grace,
Nor on my terms Eternal Life embrace.
As if that all thy breaches of God's Law
Were not enough upon thy head to draw
Eternal Wrath, thou hast despis'd a Savior,
Rejected me, and trampled on my favor.
How oft have I stood knocking at thy door,
And been denied entrance evermore?
How often hath my Spirit been withstood,
When as I sent him to have done thee good?
Thou hast no need of any one to plead
Thy cause or for thy Soul to intercede:
Plead for thyself; if thou hast aught to say,
And pay thy forfeiture without delay.
Behold thou dost ten thousand Talents owe;
Pay thou the debt or else to Prison go."
Think, think, O man, when Christ shall thus unfold
Thy secret guilt, and make thee to behold
The ugly face of all thy sinful errors,
And fill thy soul with his amazing terrors,
And let thee see the flaming Pit of Hell,
Where all that have no part in him shall dwell;
When he shall thus expostulate the case,
How canst thou bear to look him in the face?
What wilt thou do without an Advocate,
Or plead, when thus thy state is desperate?
Dost think to put him off with fair pretenses?
Or wilt thou hide and cover thine offenses?
Can anything from him concealéd be,
Who doth the hidden things of darkness see?
Art thou of force his Power to withstand?
Canst thou by might escape out of his hand?
Dost thou intend to run out of his sight,
And save thyself from punishment by flight?
Or wilt thou be eternally accurst,
And 'bide his Vengeance, let him do his worst?
Oh! who can bear his indignation's heat?
Or 'bide the pains of Hell which are so great?
If, then, thou neither canst his Wrath endure,
Nor any ransom after death procure;
If neither Cries nor Tears can move his heart
To pardon thee or mitigate thy smart,
But unto Hell thou must perforce be sent,
With dismal horror and astonishment,
Consider, O my Friend, what cause thou hast,
With fear and trembling (while as yet thou may'st),
To lay to heart thy sin and misery,
And to make out after the Remedy.
Consider well the greatness of thy danger,
O Child of wrath, and object of God's anger.
Thou hangest over the Infernal Pit
By one small thread, and car'st not thou a whit?
There's but a step between thy Soul and Death;
Nothing remains but stopping of thy breath,
(Which may be done to-morrow, or before)
And then thou art undone forevermore.
Let this awaken thy security,
And make thee look about thee speedily.
How canst thou rest an hour or sleep a night,
Or in thy creature-comforts take delight?
Or with vain Toys thyself forgetful make
How near thou art unto the burning Lake?
How canst thou live without tormenting fears?
How canst thou hold from weeping floods of tears?
Yea, tears of blood, I might almost have said,
If such-like tears could from thine eyes be shed.
To gain the world what will it profit thee,
And lose thy soul and self eternally?
Eternity on one small point dependeth;
The man is lost that this short life misspendeth.
For as the Tree doth fall, right so it lies,
And man continues in what state he dies.
Who happy die shall happy rise again;
Who curséd die shall curséd still remain.
If under Sin and Wrath Death leaves thee bound,
At Judgment under Wrath thou shalt be found;
And then woe woe that ever thou wert born,
O wretched man, of Heav'n and Earth forlorn!
Consider this, all ye that God forget,
Who all his threatenings at naught do set,
Lest into pieces he begin to tear
Your souls, and there be no deliverer.
O you that now sing care and fear away,
Think often of the formidable Day,
Wherein the Heavens with a mighty noise,
And with a hideous, heart-confounding voice
Shall pass away, together being roll'd,
As men are wont their garments up to fold;
When th' Elements with fervent heat shall melt,
And living Creatures in the same shall swelt,
And altogether in those flames expire,
Which set the Earth's Foundati-ons on fire.
Oh! what amazements will your hearts be in,
And how will you to curse yourselves begin,
For all your damnéd sloth and negligence,
And unbelief and gross Impenitence,
When you shall hear that dreadful Sentence pass'd,
That all the wicked into Hell be cast!
What horrors will your Consciences surprise,
When you shall hear the fruitless, doleful cries
Of such as are compelléd to depart
Unto the place of everlasting smart!
What! when you see the sparks fly out of Hell,
And view the Dungeon where you are to dwell,
Wherein you must eternally remain
In anguish and intolerable pain!
What! when your hands and feet are bound together,
And you are cast into the Lake forever!
Then shall you feel the truth of what you hear,
That Hellish pains are more than you can bear,
And that those Torments are an hundred fold
More terrible than ever you were told.
Nor speak I this, good Reader, to torment thee
Before the time, but rather to prevent thee
From running headlong to thine own decay,
In such a perilous and deadly way.
We who have known and felt Jehovah's terrors,
Persuade men to repent them of their errors,
And turn to God in time ere his Decree
Bring forth, and then there be no Remedy.
If in the night, when thou art fast asleep,
Some friend of thine that better watch doth keep,
Should see thy house all on a burning flame,
And thee almost incloséd with the same:
If such a friend should break thy door and wake thee,
Or else by force out of the peril take thee,
What! wouldst thou take his kindness in ill part,
Or frown upon him for his good desert?
Such, O my friend, such is thy present state
And danger, being unregenerate.
Awake, awake, and then thou shalt perceive
Thy peril greater than thou wilt believe.
Lift up thine eyes, and see God's wrathful ire
Preparing unextinguishable fire
For all that live and die impenitent.
Awake, awake, O Sinner, and repent,
And quarrel not because I thus alarm
Thy Soul, to save it from eternal harm.
Perhaps thou harborest such thoughts as these:
"I hope I may enjoy my carnal ease
A little longer, and myself refresh
With those delights that gratify the flesh,
And yet repent before it be too late,
And get into a comfortable state.
I hope I have yet many years to spend,
And time enough those matters to attend."
Presumptuous heart! Is God engag'd to give
A longer time to such as love to live
Like Rebels still, who think to strain his Glory
By wickedness, and after to be sorry?
Unto thy lust shall he be made a drudge,
Who thee and all ungodly men shall judge?
Canst thou account sin sweet, and yet confess
That first or last it ends in bitterness?
Is sin a thing that must procure thee sorrow,
And wouldst thou dally with't another morrow?
O foolish man who lovest to enjoy
That which will thee distress, or else destroy!
What gainéd Samson by his Delilah?
What gainéd David by his Bathshebah?
The one became a slave, lost both his eyes,
And made them sport that were his enemies;
The other penneth, as a certain token
Of God's displeasure, that his bones were broken,
Besides the woes he after met withal,
To chasten him for that his grievous Fall:
His own Son Ammon, using crafty wiles,
His Daughter Thamar wickedly defiles:
His second Son, more beautiful than good,
His hands embreweth in his Brother's blood:
And by and by, aspiring to the Crown,
He strives to pull his gentle Father down;
With hellish rage, him fiercely persecuting,
And brutishly his Concubines polluting.
Read whoso list, and ponder what he reads,
And he shall find small joy in evil deeds.
Moreover this consider, that the longer
Thou liv'st in sin, thy sins will grow the stronger;
And then it will an harder matter prove
To leave those wicked haunts that thou dost love.
The Black'moor may as eas'ly change his skin;
As old Transgressors leave their wonted sin.
And who can tell what will become of thee,
Or where thy Soul in one day's time may be?
We see that Death never old nor young men spares,
But one and other takes at unawares;
For in a moment, whilst men Peace do cry,
Destruction seizeth on them suddenly.
Thou who this morning art a lively wight,
May'st be a corpse and damned Ghost ere night.
Oh! dream not then that it will serve thy turn
Upon thy Death-bed for thy sins to mourn;
But think how many have been snatch'd away,
And had no time for mercy once to pray.
It's just with God Repentance to deny
To such as put it off until they die.
And late Repentance seldom proveth true,
Which, if it fail, thou know'st what must ensue;
For after this short life is at an end,
What is amiss thou never canst amend.
Believe, O man, that to procrastinate,
And put it off until it be too late,
As 'tis thy sin, so it is Satan's wile,
Whereby he doth great multitudes beguile.
How many thousands hath this strong delusion
Already brought to ruin and confusion,
Whose souls are now reserv'd in iron chains,
Under thick darkness to Eternal Pains!
They thought of many years, as thou dost now,
But were deceivéd quite, and so may'st thou.
Oh! then, my friend, waste not away thy time,
Nor by rebellion aggravate thy crime.
Oh! put not off Repentance till to-morrow,
Adventure not, without God's leave, to borrow
Another day to spend upon thy lust,
Lest God (that is most Holy, Wise, and Just)
Denounce in wrath, and to thy terror say,
"This night shall Devils fetch thy Soul away."
Now seek the face of God with all thy heart,
Acknowledge unto him how vile thou art.
Tell him thy Sins deserve eternal wrath,
And that it is a wonder that he hath
Permitted thee so long to draw thy breath,
Who might have cut thee off by sudden death,
And sent thy Soul into the lowest Pit,
From whence no price should ever ransom it;
And that he may most justly do it still,
(Because thou hast deserv'd it) if he will.
Yet also tell him that, if he shall please,
He can forgive thy sins and thee release,
And that in Christ his Son he may be just
And justify all those that on him trust;
That though thy sins are of a crimson dye,
Yet Christ his Blood can cleanse thee thoroughly,
Tell him that he may make his Glorious Name
More wonderful by covering thy shame;
That Mercy may be greatly magnified,
And justice also fully satisfied,
If he shall please to own thee in his Son,
Who hath paid dear for Man's Redempti-on.
Tell him thou hast an unbelieving heart,
Which hind'reth thee from coming for a part
In Christ; and that although his terrors awe thee,
Thou canst not come till he be pleas'd to draw thee.
Tell him thou know'st thine heart to be so bad,
And thy condition so exceeding sad,
That though Salvation may be had for naught
Thou canst not come and take it till thou'rt brought.
Oh! beg of him to bow thy stubborn will
To come to Christ, that he thy lusts may kill.
Look up to Christ for his attractive pow'r,
Which he exerteth in a needful hour;
Who saith, "When as I lifted up shall be,
Then will I draw all sorts of men to me."
Oh! wait upon him with true diligence
And trembling fear in every Ordinance;
Unto his Call earnest attention give,
Whose voice makes deaf men hear and dead men live.
Thus weep and mourn, thus hearken, pray, and wait,
Till he behold and pity thine estate,
Who is more ready to bestow his Grace
Than thou the same art willing to embrace;
Yea, he hath Might enough to bring thee home,
Though thou hast neither strength nor will to come.
If he delay to answer thy request,
Know that ofttimes he doth it for the best;
Not with intent to drive us from his door,
But for to make us importune him more;
Or else to bring us daily to confess,
And be convinc'd of our unworthiness.
Oh! be not weary, then, but persevere
To beg his Grace till he thy suit shall hear;
And leave him not, nor from his footstool go,
Till over thee Compassion's skirt he throw.
Eternal Life shall recompense thy pains,
If found at last, with everlasting gains.
For if the Lord be pleas'd to hear thy cries,
And to forgive thy great iniquities,
Thou wilt have cause forever to admire
And laud his Grace, that granted thy desire.
Then shalt thou find thy labor is not lost,
But that the good obtain'd surmounts the cost.
Nor shalt thou grieve for loss of sinful pleasures,
Exchang'd for Heav'nly joys and lasting treasures.
The yoke of Christ which once thou didst esteem
A tedious yoke, shall then most easy seem.
For why? The love of Christ shall thee constrain
To take delight in that which was thy pain.
The ways of Wisdom shall be pleasant ways,
And thou shalt choose therein to spend thy days.
If once thy Soul be brought to such a pass,
O bless the Lord and magnify his Grace.
Thou that of late hadst reason to be sad,
May'st now rejoice and be exceeding glad;
For thy condition is as happy now
As erst it was disconsolate and low.
Thou art become as rich, as whilom poor;
As blesséd now as curséd heretofore.
For being cleanséd with Christ's precious Blood,
Thou hast an int'rest in the chiefest Good;
God's anger is towards thy Soul appeas'd,
And in his Christ he is with thee well pleas'd.
Yea, he doth look upon thee with a mild
And gracious aspect, as upon his child.
He is become thy Father and thy Friend,
And will defend thee from the curséd Fiend.
Thou need'st not fear the roaring Lion's rage,
Since God Almighty doth himself engage
To bear thy Soul in everlasting Arms,
Above the reach of all destructive harms.
Whatever here thy sufferings may be,
Yet from them all the Lord shall rescue thee.
He will preserve thee by his wond'rous Might
Unto that rich Inheritance in Light.
O sing for joy, all ye Regenerate,
Whom Christ hath brought unto this blessed state!
O love the Lord all ye his saints, who hath
Redeeméd you from everlasting wrath!
Who hath by dying made your Souls to live,
And what he dearly bought doth freely give.
Give up yourselves to walk in all his ways,
And study how to live unto his praise.
The time is short you have to serve him here;
The day of your deliv'rance draweth near.
Lift up your heads, ye upright ones in heart,
Who in Christ's purchase have obtain'd a part.
Behold he rides upon a shining cloud,
With angel's voice and Trumpet sounding loud.
He comes to save his folk from all their foes,
And plague the men that Holiness oppose.
So come, Lord Jesus, quickly come, we pray;
Yea, come and hasten our Redemption-day.
VANITY OF VANITIES.
A SONG OF EMPTINESS.
Vain, frail, short-liv'd, and miserable Man,
Learn what thou art when thy estate is best;
A restless Wave o' th' troubled Oce-an,
A Dream, a lifeless Picture finely drest.
A Wind, a Flower, a Vapor, and a Bubble,
A Wheel that stands not still, a trembling Reed,
A trolling Stone, dry Dust, light Chaff, and Stubble,
A shadow of something but truly naught indeed.
Learn what deceitful Toys and empty things
This World and all its best Enjoyments be;
Out of the Earth no true Contentment springs,
But all things here are vexing Vanity.
For what is Beauty but a fading Flower?
Or what is Pleasure but the Devil's bait,
Whereby he catcheth whom he would devour,
And multitudes of Souls doth ruinate?
And what are Friends but mortal men as we,
Whom Death from us may quickly separate?
Or else their hearts may quite estrangéd be,
And all their love be turnéd into hate.
And what are Riches to be doted on?
Uncertain, fickle, and ensnaring things;
They draw men's Souls into Perditi-on,
And when most needed take them to their wings.
Ah! foolish man! that sets his heart upon
Such empty shadows, such wild Fowl as these,
That being gotten will be quickly gone,
And whilst they stay increase but his disease.
As in a Dropsy, drinking drought begets,
The more he drinks the more he still requires,
So on this World whoso affection sets,
As Wealth's increase, increaseth his desires.
O happy Man, whose portion is above,
Where Floods, where Flames, where Foes cannot bereave him!
Most wretched Man that fixéd hath his love
Upon this World, that surely will deceive him!
For what is Honor? what is Sovereignty,
Whereto men's hearts so restlessly aspire?
Whom have they crownéd with Felicity?
When did they ever satisfy desire?
The Ear of Man with hearing is not fill'd;
To see new sights still coveteth the Eye;
The craving stomach, though it may be still'd,
Yet craves again without a new supply.
All Earthly things man's cravings answer not,
Whose little heart would all the World contain,
(If all the World should fall to one man's lot)
And notwithstanding empty still remain.
The Eastern Conqueror was said to weep
When he the Indian Oce-an did view,
To see his Conquest bounded by the Deep,
And no more Worlds remaining to subdue.
Who would that man in his Enjoyment bless,
Or envy him, or covet his Estate,
Whose gettings do augment his greediness,
And make his wishes more intemperate?
Such is the wonted and the common guise
Of those on Earth that bear the greatest sway;
If with a few the case be otherwise,
They seek a Kingdom that abides for aye.
Moreover they of all the Sons of Men
That rule, and are in highest Places set,
Are most inclin'd to scorn their Bretheren,
And God himself (without great Grace) forget.
For as the Sun doth blind the gazers' eyes,
That for a time they naught discern aright,
So Honor doth befool and blind the Wise,
And their own lustre 'reaves them of their sight.
Great are their Dangers, manifold their Cares,
Through which, whilst others sleep, they scarcely Nap,
And yet are oft surpriséd unawares,
And fall unwilling into Envy's Trap.
The mean Mechanic finds his kindly rest;
All void of fear sleepeth the Country Clown;
When greatest Princes often are distrest,
And cannot sleep upon their Beds of Down.
Could Strength or Valor men Immortalize,
Could Wealth or Honor keep them from decay,
There were some cause the same to Idolize,
And give the lie to that which I do say.
But neither can such things themselves endure,
Without the hazard of a change, one hour,
Nor such as trust in them can they secure
From dismal days, or Death's prevailing pow'r.
If Beauty could the Beautiful defend
From Death's dominion, then fair Absalom
Had not been brought to such a shameful end:
But fair and foul unto the Grave must come.
If Wealth or Scepters could Immortal make,
Then, wealthy Crœsus, wherefore art thou dead?
If Warlike force which makes the World to quake,
Then why is Julius Cæsar perishéd?
Where are the Scipio's Thunderbolts of War?
Renownéd Pompey, Cæsar's Enemy?
Stout Hannibal, Rome's Terror known so far?
Great Alexander, what's become of thee?
If Gifts and Bribes Death's favor might but win,
If Pow'r, if Force, or Threat'nings might it fray,
All these, and more had still surviving been;
But all are gone, for Death will have no Nay.
Such is this World, with all her Pomp and Glory;
Such are the men whom worldly eyes admire,
Cut down by time, and now become a Story,
That we might after better things aspire.
Go boast thyself of what thy heart enjoys,
Vain Man! triumph in all thy worldly Bliss:
Thy best Enjoyments are but Trash and Toys;
Delight thyself in that which worthless is.
Omnia prætereunt præter amare Deum.