A Looking-glass for children being a narrative of God's gracious dealings with some little children / recollected by Henry Jessey in his life time ; together with sundry seasonable lessons and instructions to youth, calling them early to remember their creator, written by Abr. Chear ...
      
       
         
           1673
        
      
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         12715407
         ocm 12715407
         66173
         
           
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             A Looking-glass for children being a narrative of God's gracious dealings with some little children / recollected by Henry Jessey in his life time ; together with sundry seasonable lessons and instructions to youth, calling them early to remember their creator, written by Abr. Chear ...
             H. P.
             Jessey, Henry, 1603-1663.
             Cheare, Abraham, d. 1668.
          
           
             The third edition, corrected and amended.
          
           96 p.
           
             Printed for Robert Boulter ...,
             London :
             1673.
          
           
             Included are elegies on departed friends by Abraham Chear.
             Reproduction of original in Cambridge University Library.
             Entry for J693 cancelled in Wing (2nd ed.).
          
        
      
    
     
       
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         eng
      
       
         
           Children -- Religious life -- Early works to 1800.
           Youth -- Conduct of life -- Early works to 1800.
        
      
    
     
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           A
           Looking-Glass
           FOR
           CHILDREN
           .
        
         
           Being
           a
           Narrative
           of
           God's
           gracious
           Dealings
           with
           some
           Little
           Children
           ;
           Recollected
           by
           
             Henry
             Jessey
          
           in
           his
           life-time
           .
        
         
           Together
           with
           sundry
           seasonable
           Lessons
           and
           Instructions
           to
           Youth
           ,
           calling
           them
           early
           to
           remember
           their
           Creator
           :
           Written
           by
           
             Abr.
             Chear
          
           ,
           late
           of
           Plymouth
           .
        
         
           The
           Third
           Edition
           ,
           Corrected
           and
           Amended
           .
        
         
           To
           which
           is
           added
           many
           other
           Poems
           very
           sutable
           .
           As
           also
           some
           Elegies
           on
           departed
           Friends
           :
           made
           by
           the
           said
           
             Abraham
             Chear
          
           .
        
         
           All
           now
           faithfully
           gathered
           together
           ,
           for
           the
           benefit
           of
           Young
           and
           Old
           :
           by
           
             H.
             P.
          
           
        
         
           Psal
           .
           66.
           16.
           
        
         
           Come
           and
           hear
           ,
           all
           ye
           that
           fear
           God
           ,
           and
           I
           will
           declare
           what
           he
           hath
           done
           for
           my
           Soul.
           
        
         
           Deut.
           31.
           19.
           
        
         
           Now
           therefore
           write
           ye
           this
           Song
           for
           you
           ,
           and
           teach
           it
           the
           Children
           of
           Israel
           ;
           put
           it
           in
           their
           mouths
           ,
           that
           this
           Song
           may
           be
           a
           witness
           for
           me
           ,
           &c.
           
        
         
           London
           ,
           
             Printed
             for
          
           Robert
           Boulter
           ,
           
             at
             the
          
           Turks-Head
           in
           Cornhil
           ,
           1673.
           
        
      
       
         
         
         
           To
           the
           Reader
           .
        
         
           THou
           hast
           here
           (
           gentle
           Reader
           )
           brought
           to
           thy
           view
           ,
           in
           the
           first
           part
           of
           this
           Book
           ,
           a
           Narrative
           of
           the
           gracious
           dealings
           of
           God
           with
           several
           Children
           ,
           and
           what
           they
           gained
           in
           an
           early
           looking
           Heaven-ward
           ,
           in
           which
           thou
           mayest
           see
           and
           behold
           the
           condescention
           of
           the
           Lord
           to
           such
           little
           Ones
           ,
           in
           opening
           their
           understanding
           ,
           and
           giving
           them
           a
           sight
           and
           sense
           of
           their
           undone
           estate
           by
           nature
           ,
           from
           whence
           they
           were
           made
           to
           seek
           and
           enquire
           after
           a
           Saviour
           ,
           and
           by
           Grace
           helped
           to
           apply
           and
           improve
           his
           gracious
           Calls
           and
           Invitations
           to
           a
           full
           satisfaction
           in
           ,
           and
           by
           Faith
           a
           cleaving
           to
           His
           undertakings
           ,
           as
           the
           alone
           way
           and
           means
           to
           Salvation
           ,
           to
           their
           great
           comfort
           here
           ▪
           and
           firm
           hope
           of
           glory
           hereafter
           .
           All
           which
           was
           wonderfully
           effected
           ,
           to
           the
           praise
           of
           the
           free
           Grace
           of
           God
           ,
           and
           admiration
           of
           Relations
           and
           Beholders
           ;
           and
           now
           presented
           to
           thee
           ,
           being
           first
           written
           by
           that
           faithful
           Servant
           of
           the
           
           Lord
           ,
           Mr.
           
             Henry
             Jessey
          
           ;
           who
           in
           his
           life
           time
           gave
           it
           me
           to
           transcribe
           ,
           in
           order
           for
           the
           then
           Printing
           :
           But
           it
           being
           small
           ,
           I
           waited
           to
           have
           somewhat
           to
           adjoyn
           to
           it
           ,
           which
           Providence
           hath
           lately
           brought
           to
           my
           hand
           as
           that
           which
           is
           worthy
           of
           publication
           ,
           being
           the
           Fruit
           of
           some
           idle
           hours
           of
           that
           Servant
           of
           the
           Lord
           Mr.
           
             Abraham
             Chear
          
           ,
           whilst
           in
           bonds
           for
           the
           truth
           of
           Christ
           ;
           wherein
           he
           expresses
           his
           well-wishes
           to
           the
           Souls
           of
           divers
           poor
           Children
           ,
           towards
           whom
           he
           then
           stood
           nearly
           related
           ,
           and
           dearly
           affected
           ,
           as
           by
           the
           second
           Part
           hereof
           you
           may
           largely
           see
           :
           and
           if
           helped
           of
           God
           to
           make
           improvement
           of
           it
           ,
           so
           as
           carefully
           to
           mind
           ,
           and
           heedfully
           to
           walk
           in
           the
           practice
           of
           what
           is
           seasonably
           advised
           in
           the
           said
           Discourse
           ;
           you
           will
           have
           great
           cause
           to
           bless
           the
           Lord
           for
           such
           endeavours
           ,
           now
           published
           for
           your
           profit
           and
           advantage
           .
        
         
           The
           Motive
           provoking
           me
           thus
           to
           recollect
           this
           little
           Book
           ,
           is
           chiefly
           from
           consideration
           of
           my
           daily
           observation
           of
           Youths
           great
           need
           of
           all
           endeavours
           to
           prompt
           them
           to
           that
           which
           is
           good
           ,
           they
           being
           naturally
           addicted
           to
           be
           drawn
           away
           through
           their
           own
           inclinations
           ,
           and
           the
           powerful
           prevalency
           of
           Satan
           to
           sin
           and
           disobedience
           ;
           by
           which
           they
           wrong
           their
           precious
           Souls
           ,
           Prov.
           8.
           36.
           thereby
           incurring
           Gods
           displeasure
           to
           their
           daily
           hardning
           their
           hearts
           from
           his
           
           fear
           ,
           and
           following
           the
           sins
           and
           pleasures
           of
           this
           vain
           World
           ,
           until
           they
           are
           prepared
           as
           Vessels
           of
           wrath
           fitted
           for
           Destruction
           and
           Perdition
           ;
           which
           is
           the
           certain
           effect
           of
           Sin
           ruling
           and
           reigning
           without
           restraint
           in
           the
           hearts
           of
           the
           Children
           of
           Disobedience
           ,
           Col.
           3.
           6.
           
           Which
           evil
           and
           judgment
           may
           be
           timely
           prevented
           ,
           by
           hearkning
           to
           Gods
           Call
           ,
           Prov.
           9.
           6.
           seeking
           and
           serving
           him
           betimes
           ,
           Prov.
           8.
           17.
           believing
           his
           Word
           ,
           avoiding
           evil
           company
           ,
           Prov.
           4.
           15
           ,
           16.
           slighting
           the
           allurements
           of
           present
           pleasure
           ,
           and
           the
           sinful
           delights
           of
           the
           flesh
           ,
           and
           by
           making
           good-men
           examples
           to
           walk
           after
           ,
           
             Prov.
             2.
             20.
             
             Heb.
          
           6.
           12.
           2.
           
           Chron.
           29.
           2.
           and
           therein
           esteeming
           and
           highly
           prizing
           the
           excellency
           of
           the
           Lord
           Jesus
           ,
           in
           all
           his
           glorious
           undertakings
           for
           poor
           sinners
           ,
           Phil.
           3.
           8.
           cleaving
           to
           his
           Righteousness
           only
           for
           Justification
           and
           Salvation
           ,
           1
           Cor.
           1.
           30.
           
           Which
           Mercy
           is
           greatly
           desired
           may
           accompany
           the
           Reader
           of
           this
           little
           Piece
           ,
           whereby
           he
           may
           say
           it
           was
           worth
           perusing
           ,
           for
           that
           by
           it
           the
           Lord
           made
           him
           to
           consider
           his
           latter
           end
           ,
           and
           remember
           him
           in
           the
           dayes
           of
           his
           Youth
           ,
           so
           as
           to
           make
           his
           Calling
           and
           Election
           sure
           ,
           as
           did
           these
           pretty
           Children
           .
           That
           being
           my
           aim
           and
           end
           in
           the
           publishing
           hereof
           ,
           I
           shall
           daily
           wait
           for
           its
           success
           ,
           and
           remain
           yours
           ,
        
         
           
             In
             true
             desires
             after
             your
             Eternal
             happiness
             .
             H.
             P.
             
          
        
      
       
         
         
           
             Go
             little
             Book
             ,
             and
             speak
             for
             them
             that
             be
          
           
             Lanch'd
             with
             great
             safety
             to
             Eternity
             ;
          
           
             Engaging
             Others
             ,
             by
             what
             they
             did
             find
             ,
          
           
             Their
             everlasting
             Peace
             chiefly
             to
             mind
             .
          
           
             Their
             names
             are
             blest
             ,
             and
             had
             in
             memory
             ;
          
           
             They
             served
             God
             ,
             and
             thence
             in
             peace
             did
             die
             .
          
        
         
           
             All
             you
             that
             read
             ,
             be
             earnest
             to
             obtain
          
           
             True
             faith
             in
             Christ
             ,
             which
             will
             be
             lasting
             gain
             .
          
           
             And
             if
             ,
             while
             young
             ,
             God
             do
             his
             Work
             begin
          
           
             Vpon
             your
             Soul
             ,
             take
             hee●
             ,
             beware
             of
             sin
             ;
          
           
             It
             will
             prove
             to
             your
             Crown
             another
             day
             ,
          
           
             To
             cleave
             to
             Righteousness
             ,
             whilst
             yet
             you
             may
             .
          
           
             Preceed
             in
             fear
             ,
             in
             love
             ,
             with
             true
             delight
             ,
          
           
             Vnto
             the
             Lord
             ,
             to
             serve
             him
             with
             your
             might
             ,
          
           
             Observe
             the
             Lessons
             given
             by
             
               Abram
               Chear
            
             ,
          
           
             That
             they
             your
             Soul
             may
             unto
             Christ
             endear
             .
          
           
             Such
             Songs
             are
             good
             ,
             if
             well
             improved
             be
             ,
          
           
             Sung
             by
             experience
             ▪
             with
             Soul
             harmony
             .
          
           
             The
             Truths
             therein
             inserted
             ,
             make
             your
             own
             ,
          
           
             By
             practice
             in
             true
             love
             to
             Christ
             alone
             :
          
           
             Mind
             chiefly
             now
             your
             everlasting
             Rest
             ,
          
           
             That
             in
             compare
             with
             all
             things
             is
             the
             best
             .
          
           
             Love
             God
             ,
             and
             fear
             him
             in
             sincerity
             ,
          
           
             So
             shall
             you
             praise
             him
             to
             Eternity
             .
          
        
         
           
             London
             ,
             
               12th
               Month
               ,
               12
               day
               ,
               1672.
               
            
          
           
             H.
             P.
             
          
        
      
    
     
       
         
         
           Of
           hopeful
           young
           Children
           ,
           (
           the
           great
           joy
           of
           their
           Parents
           ,
           )
           remembring
           their
           Creator
           in
           the
           dayes
           of
           their
           Youth
           ;
           Being
           trained
           up
           in
           the
           Holy
           Scriptures
           from
           their
           Infancy
           .
        
         
           
             First
             ,
             Of
             Mary
             Warren
             ,
             Born
             in
             May
             1651
             ,
             Aged
             Ten
             years
             in
             May
             1661.
             
          
           
             WHen
             his
             Child
             was
             about
             five
             or
             six
             years
             old
             ,
             she
             had
             a
             new
             plain
             Tammy
             Coat
             ;
             and
             when
             she
             was
             made
             ready
             ,
             was
             to
             be
             carried
             with
             other
             Children
             into
             Morefields
             :
             But
             having
             looked
             upon
             her
             Coat
             ,
             how
             fine
             she
             was
             ,
             she
             presently
             went
             to
             her
             Chair
             ,
             sate
             down
             ,
             her
             tears
             running
             down
             her
             eyes
             ,
             she
             wept
             seriously
             by
             her self
             ;
             Her
             Mother
             seeing
             it
             ,
             said
             to
             her
             ,
             How
             now
             ?
             Are
             you
             not
             well
             ?
             What
             is
             the
             matter
             that
             you
             weep
             ?
             The
             Child
             answered
             ,
             
               Yes
               ,
               I
               am
               well
               ,
               but
               I
               would
               I
               had
               not
               been
               made
               ready
               ,
               for
               I
               am
               afraid
               my
               fine
               Cloaths
               will
               cast
               me
               down
               to
               Hell.
            
             Her
             Mother
             said
             ,
             It
             's
             not
             our
             Cloaths
             ,
             but
             wicked
             Hearts
             that
             hurt
             us
             .
             She
             answered
             ,
             
               Aye
               Mother
               ,
               fine
               Cloaths
               make
               our
               hearts
               proud
               .
            
          
           
             
               The
               Scriptures
               being
               daily
               read
               in
               the
               House
               ,
               when
               one
               had
               read
            
             Luke
             10.
             
               she
               laid
               to
               heart
               the
               end
               of
               the
               Chapter
               ,
               how
            
             
             Mary
             sate
             at
             Christs
             feet
             and
             heard
             him
             :
             And
             Martha
             complained
             ;
             and
             Jesus
             said
             ,
             
               Martha
               ,
               Martha
            
             ,
             Thou
             art
             careful
             ,
             and
             cumbred
             about
             many
             things
             ;
             but
             one
             thing
             i●
             needful
             ,
             Mary
             hath
             chosen
             that
             good
             part
             that
             shall
             not
             be
             taken
             from
             her
             .
             
               Hearing
               this
               ,
               the
               tears
               ran
               down
               ,
               and
               she
               wept
               sore
               .
               Being
               asked
               the
               cause
               ,
               she
               said
               ,
            
             I
             am
             not
             like
             this
             good
             Mary
             ,
             I
             know
             not
             that
             one
             thing
             needful
             .
             
               Thus
               tender
               was
               her
               heart
               at
               that
               Age.
               
            
          
           
             
               In
               February
               1659.
               
            
             
               The
               Night
               after
               General
               Monck
               had
               sent
               his
               Leter
               to
               the
               Parliament
               to
               put
               an
               end
               to
               their
               sitting
               by
               such
               a
               time
               ;
               Bonefires
               being
               made
               the
               night
               following
               all
               over
               London
               ,
               and
               some
               before
               her
               Fathers
               door
               :
               When
               some
               went
               down
               to
               see
               them
               ,
               this
               Child
               would
               not
               :
               But
               going
               to
               the
               Window
               ,
               and
               looking
               out
               ,
               hearing
               such
               roaring
               and
               rantings
               in
               the
               burning
               of
               Rumps
               ,
               and
               drinking
               of
               Healths
               there
               ;
               she
               came
               back
               ,
               and
               the
               tears
               running
               down
               her
               cheeks
               ,
               she
               said
               thus
               ,
               
                 Here
                 is
                 a
                 deal
                 of
                 wicked
                 joy
                 ,
                 they
                 know
                 not
                 but
                 they
                 may
                 be
                 dead
                 before
                 the
                 morning
                 ;
                 methinks
                 I
                 see
                 our
                 sins
                 fly
                 up
                 to
                 Heaven
                 as
                 fast
                 as
                 the
                 sparks
                 fly
                 upward
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               This
               that
               next
               follows
               ,
               was
               written
               about
               
                 October
                 28.
                 1661.
                 
              
            
             
               It
               being
               24
               days
               now
               that
               she
               had
               taken
               nothing
               but
               Water
               ,
               with
               a
               little
               Sugar
               ,
               
               till
               Tuesday
               last
               ;
               and
               ever
               since
               that
               ,
               she
               will
               not
               take
               it
               with
               Sugar
               ,
               but
               water
               only
               ,
               without
               crying
               out
               ,
               (
               her
               speech
               being
               of
               late
               taken
               away
               from
               her
               )
               and
               that
               by
               forcing
               it
               into
               her
               by
               a
               Syringe
               ,
               she
               having
               an
               impostume
               in
               her
               stomach
               ,
               as
               it
               appeared
               afterwards
               ,
               not
               taking
               Food
               at
               all
               for
               divers
               dayes
               .
            
          
           
             
               What
               next
               follows
               was
               written
               by
               her
               father
               ,
               on
               Friday
               night
               ,
               
                 Octob.
                 4.
                 1661.
                 
              
            
             
               She
               sent
               for
               me
               to
               speak
               with
               me
               ,
               and
               when
               I
               came
               ,
               I
               asked
               her
               what
               she
               would
               have
               with
               me
               :
               She
               answered
               
                 I
                 have
                 but
                 a
                 short
                 time
                 to
                 live
                 ,
                 I
                 pray
                 you
                 be
                 loving
                 to
                 my
                 poor
                 Mother
                 .
              
               Afterwards
               he
               speaking
               of
               loving
               her
               ,
               she
               said
               ,
               
                 I
                 pray
                 manifest
                 your
                 love
                 to
                 my
                 poor
                 Mother
                 .
              
               Her
               Mother
               asked
               her
               if
               she
               were
               willing
               to
               die
               ?
               She
               answered
               
                 Aye
                 ,
                 very
                 willing
                 ,
                 for
                 then
                 I
                 shall
                 sin
                 no
                 more
                 ,
                 for
                 I
                 know
                 that
                 Christs
                 Blood
                 hath
                 made
                 satisfaction
                 for
                 my
                 sins
                 .
              
               ●
               asked
               her
               ,
               if
               I
               should
               go
               down
               ?
               She
               answered
               ,
               
                 I
                 have
                 done
                 with
                 you
                 now
                 ,
                 you
                 may
                 if
                 you
                 please
                 .
              
            
             
               Next
               night
               ,
               Octob.
               the
               5th
               .
               her
               Mother
               going
               softly
               to
               the
               Chamber-door
               ,
               she
               heard
               her
               speaking
               alone
               ,
               and
               she
               listned
               ,
               and
               heard
               her
               say
               this
               ,
               
                 Come
                 Lord
                 Jesus
                 ,
                 come
                 quickly
                 ,
                 &
                 receive
                 they
                 poor
                 Creature
                 out
                 of
                 all
                 my
                 pains
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 On
                 the
                 Lords
                 Day
              
               ,
               (
               Octob.
               6.
               )
               
                 She
                 said
                 thus
              
               ,
               here
               is
               n●thing
               here
               but
               sin
               ,
               I
               am
               willing
               
               to
               die
               ,
               but
               either
               to
               live
               or
               to
               die
               ,
               which
               she
               Lord
               pleaseth
               ,
               his
               Will
               be
               done
               ,
               and
               so
               it
               will
               ,
               whether
               I
               will
               or
               no.
               
            
          
           
             
               On
               Tuesday
               at
               night
               ,
               
                 Octob.
                 8.
                 
              
            
             
               Seeing
               her
               Mother
               weeping
               ,
               she
               said
               ,
               
                 Mother
                 do
                 not
                 weep
                 for
                 me
                 ,
                 but
                 leave
                 me
                 to
                 the
                 Lord
                 and
                 let
                 him
                 do
                 with
                 me
                 what
                 he
                 pleaseth
                 .
              
               And
               then
               Clasping
               her
               Arms
               about
               her
               Mothers
               Neck
               ,
               her
               Mother
               said
               ,
               Thou
               embracest
               me
               ,
               but
               I
               trust
               thou
               art
               going
               to
               the
               embracings
               of
               the
               Lord
               Jesus
               :
               She
               answered
               ,
               
                 Mother
                 ,
                 I
                 know
                 it
                 ,
                 that
                 when
                 I
                 go
                 from
                 hence
                 ,
                 I
                 shall
                 go
                 into
                 health
                 and
                 happiness
                 ▪
                 or
                 else
                 I
                 should
                 not
                 undergo
                 all
                 my
                 pains
                 with
                 so
                 much
                 patience
                 ,
              
               (
               she
               having
               been
               in
               very
               great
               pain
               ,
               having
               an
               Imposthume
               in
               her
               stomack
               .
               )
               One
               day
               when
               Nurse
               came
               to
               see
               her
               young
               Sister
               Sarah
               ,
               her
               Sister
               Ann
               being
               with
               her
               ,
               she
               said
               to
               her
               Sister
               ,
               
                 Go
                 ,
                 see
                 Nurse
              
               :
               Her
               Sister
               said
               ,
               she
               was
               loath
               to
               leave
               her
               alone
               ;
               She
               answered
               ,
               
                 I
                 am
                 not
                 alone
                 ,
                 for
                 the
                 Lord
                 is
                 with
                 me
                 ,
              
               as
               it
               is
               in
               
                 John
                 ,
                 I
                 am
                 not
                 alone
                 ,
                 for
                 the
                 Father
                 is
                 with
                 me
                 .
              
               She
               feeling
               a
               sore
               pain
               in
               her
               side
               ,
               her
               Mother
               said
               ,
               she
               would
               apply
               something
               to
               it
               .
               She
               answered
               ,
               
                 No
                 ,
                 the
                 Lord
                 Jesus
                 hath
                 undergone
                 a
                 great
                 deal
                 more
                 for
                 m●
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               More
               Expressions
               of
               Mary
               Warren
               .
            
             
               She
               having
               been
               very
               ill
               and
               speechless
               for
               some
               dayes
               ,
               her
               Father
               had
               desired
               Mr.
               
               
                 John
                 Simpson
              
               ,
               and
               Mr.
               Palmer
               ,
               late
               of
               Glocestershire
               ,
               and
               Mr.
               Jessey
               ,
               to
               come
               to
               his
               House
               and
               pray
               for
               his
               sick
               and
               much
               pained
               Daughter
               .
               On
               Friday
               Novemb.
               8.
               1661.
               these
               met
               then
               ,
               and
               sought
               the
               Lord
               earnestly
               on
               her
               behalf
               ,
               her
               father
               having
               first
               declared
               to
               them
               his
               Daughters
               afflicted
               Condition
               ;
               and
               the
               more
               to
               affect
               them
               therewith
               ,
               he
               there
               read
               to
               them
               ,
               what
               he
               had
               formerly
               written
               of
               her
               gracious
               Expressions
               ,
               (
               those
               before
               recited
               )
               from
               Octob.
               4.
               1661.
               there
               being
               present
               also
               Mr.
               Greensmith
               and
               his
               Wife
               ;
               also
               that
               grave
               Matron
               Mris.
               Adkins
               ,
               a
               Ministers
               Widow
               ;
               with
               divers
               other
               Christian
               friends
               .
            
             
               That
               Relation
               the
               more
               affecting
               their
               hearts
               to
               pray
               for
               her
               ;
               After
               these
               and
               another
               Minister
               had
               prayed
               for
               her
               ,
               and
               were
               gone
               ,
               in
               hopes
               the
               Lord
               would
               some
               way
               return
               a
               gracious
               Answer
               though
               they
               could
               see
               nothing
               at
               their
               departure
               :
               It
               pleased
               the
               Lord
               the
               Evening
               following
               to
               open
               her
               Mouth
               that
               had
               been
               speechless
               for
               many
               dayes
               ;
               then
               she
               spake
               to
               the
               Maid
               to
               call
               her
               Mother
               ,
               and
               when
               she
               came
               ,
               she
               said
               thus
               ;
            
             
               Pray
               you
               Mother
               take
               off
               these
               Plaisters
               ,
               for
               I
               would
               not
               have
               them
               ;
               I
               would
               have
               no
               Doctors
               ,
               or
               Apothecaries
               for
               God
               shall
               be
               my
               Physician
               ,
               and
               he
               will
               heal
               me
               :
               If
               I
               could
               have
               
               spoken
               before
               these
               Playsters
               were
               a
               laying
               on
               ,
               I
               would
               not
               have
               had
               them
               laid
               on
               .
               If
               my
               Speech
               should
               be
               taken
               away
               again
               ,
               do
               not
               trouble
               me
               with
               any
               more
               things
               ,
               for
               the
               Lord
               hath
               fed
               me
               with
               the
               Food
               of
               Righteousness
               and
               Gladness
               .
            
             
               Sometimes
               when
               you
               laid
               Victuals
               upon
               a
               Trencher
               ,
               I
               snatcht
               it
               away
               ;
               I
               would
               not
               destroy
               Gods
               good
               Creatures
               ,
               when
               I
               am
               in
               my
               fits
               :
               If
               any
               thing
               lye
               on
               the
               Cloth
               before
               me
               ,
               take
               it
               away
               .
               Though
               you
               take
               water
               to
               wash
               my
               mouth
               ,
               there
               is
               none
               goeth
               down
               ,
               for
               I
               have
               no
               nourishment
               by
               any
               thing
               but
               God
               ,
               no
               more
               than
               by
               this
               Rag
               ,
               
                 (
                 taking
                 one
                 in
                 her
                 hand
                 .
              
               )
            
             
               I
               do
               not
               value
               the
               things
               of
               this
               World
               no
               more
               than
               dirt
               .
               
                 Her
                 Mother
                 had
                 told
                 one
                 ,
                 that
                 she
                 thought
                 her
                 Daughter
                 had
                 assaults
                 of
                 Satan
                 ,
                 she
                 once
                 looked
                 very
                 gashly
                 :
                 And
                 now
                 her
                 Daughter
                 said
                 thus
              
               ;
               Once
               I
               think
               I
               looked
               gashfully
               ,
               and
               turned
               my
               head
               on
               one
               side
               and
               on
               the
               other
               ;
               Satan
               stood
               upon
               my
               left
               side
               ,
               and
               God
               was
               upon
               my
               right
               side
               ,
               and
               opened
               the
               gates
               of
               Heaven
               for
               me
               ;
               and
               he
               told
               me
               ,
               Satan
               should
               not
               hurt
               me
               ,
               though
               he
               sought
               to
               devour
               me
               like
               a
               roaring
               Lion.
               
            
             
               
                 Something
                 being
                 burning
                 that
                 gave
                 her
                 offence
                 ,
                 she
                 said
                 ,
              
               I
               perceive
               you
               burn
               something
               ;
               but
               do
               not
               trouble
               me
               ,
               for
               I
               cannot
               smell
               .
               I
               am
               very
               sore
               ,
               from
               the
               crown
               of
               my
               head
               to
               the
               sole
               of
               my
               foot
               ;
               but
               I
               am
               so
               full
               of
               
               Comfort
               and
               joy
               that
               I
               do
               feel
               but
               little
               of
               my
               pain
               ;
               I
               do
               not
               know
               whether
               I
               shall
               live
               or
               die
               but
               whether
               I
               live
               or
               die
               ,
               it
               will
               be
               well
               for
               me
               ;
               I
               am
               not
               in
               trouble
               for
               my
               sins
               ,
               God
               is
               satisfied
               with
               his
               Son
               Jesus
               Christ
               ,
               for
               he
               hath
               washt
               them
               away
               with
               his
               Blood.
               
            
             
               
                 Another
                 time
                 when
                 she
                 had
                 been
                 speechless
                 ,
                 and
                 began
                 to
                 speak
                 ,
                 she
                 said
                 ,
              
               I
               have
               been
               so
               full
               of
               joy
               and
               gladness
               ,
               when
               I
               was
               silent
               ;
               I
               am
               not
               able
               to
               express
               it
               .
            
             
               When
               her
               Mother
               syringed
               her
               Mouth
               with
               water
               ,
               she
               said
               ,
               she
               could
               not
               relish
               it
               ,
               but
               desired
               to
               try
               a
               Syringe
               of
               Beer
               ;
               which
               when
               she
               had
               ,
               she
               said
               ,
               
                 it
                 relished
                 worse
                 than
                 the
                 Water
                 :
              
               then
               she
               desired
               a
               Syringe
               of
               Milk
               ;
               which
               when
               she
               had
               it
               ,
               she
               said
               ,
               
                 I
                 cannot
                 relish
                 any
                 thing
                 :
                 But
              
               (
               said
               she
               )
               
                 I
                 will
                 wait
                 upon
                 the
                 Lord
                 to
                 see
                 what
                 he
                 will
                 provide
                 for
                 me
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 Then
                 her
                 Sister
                 standing
                 by
                 ,
                 she
                 said
                 ,
                 Sister
                 Betty
                 ,
              
               and
               
                 Sister
                 Ann
              
               ,
               be
               sure
               your
               first
               Work
               be
               in
               the
               morning
               to
               seek
               the
               Lord
               by
               Prayer
               ,
               and
               likewise
               in
               the
               evening
               ;
               and
               give
               thanks
               for
               your
               Food
               :
               for
               you
               cannot
               pray
               too
               often
               to
               the
               Lord
               ;
               and
               though
               you
               cannot
               speak
               such
               words
               as
               others
               have
               ;
               yet
               the
               Lord
               will
               accept
               ●f
               the
               heart
               :
               for
               you
               do
               not
               know
               how
               soon
               your
               speech
               may
               be
               taken
               away
               as
               mine
               was
               .
            
             
               
                 She
                 desired
                 her
                 Mother
                 ,
                 thus
              
               ;
               Do
               not
               let
               〈◊〉
               much
               company
               be
               here
               late
               at
               night
               ,
               lest
               it
               ●hould
               hinder
               them
               from
               seeking
               the
               Lord
               in
               duty
               〈…〉
               .
            
             
             
               
                 She
                 said
                 further
              
               ,
               When
               I
               was
               first
               ill
               ,
               and
               went
               about
               the
               House
               ,
               I
               was
               not
               under
               trouble
               for
               my
               sins
               at
               all
               ,
               neither
               am
               I
               now
               troubled
               with
               satans
               temptations
               ,
               for
               the
               Lord
               hath
               trampled
               him
               under
               his
               feet
               .
            
             
               
                 She
                 said
                 also
              
               ,
               When
               I
               can
               hear
               or
               understand
               ,
               I
               will
               tell
               some
               body
               ,
               that
               they
               may
               come
               and
               read
               by
               me
               ,
               for
               I
               love
               to
               hear
               the
               Word
               of
               God
               read
               to
               me
               ,
               
                 (
                 for
                 then
                 she
                 could
                 not
                 hear
                 )
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               Another
               time
               .
            
             
               
                 She
                 spake
                 to
                 the
                 maid
                 to
                 call
                 her
                 Mother
                 ,
                 saying
                 ,
              
               I
               have
               something
               to
               say
               to
               her
               ;
               
                 and
                 when
                 her
                 Mother
                 came
                 ,
                 she
                 said
                 ,
              
               If
               my
               speech
               be
               taken
               away
               ,
               and
               should
               be
               a
               great
               while
               so
               ,
               that
               then
               I
               may
               have
               no
               Doctor
               ,
               Apothecary
               ,
               or
               Chirurgion
               come
               at
               me
               ;
               and
               that
               I
               may
               not
               have
               any
               more
               Physick
               given
               to
               me
               :
               and
               be
               sure
               to
               take
               notice
               of
               my
               words
               ▪
               for
               they
               look
               more
               at
               the
               Physick
               ,
               than
               at
               the
               Power
               of
               God
               ;
               and
               if
               you
               suffer
               them
               to
               give
               me
               any
               more
               things
               the
               Lord
               will
               be
               angry
               with
               you
               ,
               and
               will
               bring
               a
               greater
               affliction
               upon
               you
               in
               some
               of
               my
               other
               Sisters
               .
               I
               know
               the
               Lord
               can
               open
               the
               passage
               of
               my
               Throat
               in
               a
               moment
               ,
               and
               cause
               me
               to
               take
               food
               ;
               or
               ,
               he
               may
               let
               me
               lie
               a
               great
               while
               in
               this
               condition
               ;
               As
               for
               washing
               my
               mouth
               with
               water
               ,
               I
               find
               no
               more
               ,
               but
               only
               to
               wash
               the
               phlegm
               .
            
             
               But
               I
               am
               f●d
               with
               the
               bread
               of
               Life
               ,
               that
               I
               shall
               never
               hunger
               ;
               and
               do
               drink
               of
               the
               water
               ,
               
               of
               Life
               ,
               that
               I
               shall
               never
               thirst
               more
               .
            
             
               I
               know
               not
               whether
               I
               shall
               live
               or
               die
               ;
               but
               if
               I
               die
               ,
               and
               if
               you
               will
               have
               a
               Sermon
               ,
               I
               desire
               this
               may
               be
               the
               Text
               ;
               the
               place
               I
               do
               not
               know
               ,
               but
               the
               words
               may
               be
               comfortable
               to
               you
               ;
               That
               David
               ,
               
                 when
                 his
                 Child
                 was
                 sick
                 ,
                 he
                 cloathed
                 himself
                 in
                 Sackcloth
                 ,
                 and
                 wept
                 ;
                 but
                 when
                 his
                 Child
                 was
                 dead
                 ,
                 he
                 washed
                 and
                 ate
                 Bread
                 :
              
               For
               you
               have
               wept
               much
               ,
               while
               I
               have
               been
               sick
               ;
               and
               if
               I
               die
               ,
               you
               have
               cause
               to
               rejoyce
               .
            
             
               
                 She
                 said
              
               ,
               My
               soul
               also
               was
               so
               full
               of
               comfort
               ,
               that
               I
               would
               have
               spoken
               much
               more
               :
               
                 But
                 her
                 speech
                 being
                 almost
                 gone
                 ,
                 she
                 said
                 ,
              
               If
               it
               please
               the
               Lord
               that
               I
               might
               have
               my
               hearing
               and
               my
               speech
               ,
               (
               which
               would
               be
               a
               great
               miracle
               )
               I
               should
               speak
               much
               more
               .
            
             
               Novemb.
               10.
               
               
                 On
                 the
                 Lords
                 day
                 ,
                 she
                 said
                 as
                 follows
                 ;
                 When
                 her
                 Mother
                 had
                 syring'd
                 several
                 things
                 into
                 her
                 mouth
                 ;
                 as
                 first
                 water
                 ,
                 which
                 she
                 not
                 relishing
                 ,
                 then
                 water
                 and
                 vinegar
                 ,
                 then
                 vinegar
                 and
                 Sugar
                 ,
                 then
                 milk
                 ,
                 and
                 none
                 did
                 relish
                 with
                 her
                 ,
                 she
                 said
                 ,
              
               Here
               is
               but
               little
               comfort
               in
               these
               ;
               my
               comfort
               is
               in
               the
               Lord
               ,
               There
               is
               comfort
               indeed
               :
               Though
               we
               may
               seek
               comfort
               here
               ,
               and
               the
               glory
               of
               this
               World
               ,
               yet
               ,
               what
               is
               all
               that
               ?
               all
               will
               be
               nothing
               ,
               when
               we
               come
               to
               lie
               upon
               a
               Death
               ●ed
               ,
               then
               we
               would
               fain
               have
               the
               love
               of
               God
               ▪
               and
               cannot
               get
               it
               :
               I
               am
               full
               of
               comfort
               and
               joy
               .
               
               Though
               the
               Lord
               is
               pleased
               to
               let
               me
               lie
               under
               many
               pains
               ,
               yet
               he
               knoweth
               what
               is
               best
               for
               his
               Children
               ;
               he
               hath
               enabled
               me
               ,
               and
               will
               enable
               me
               to
               bear
               them
               ;
               and
               though
               he
               should
               lay
               a
               hundred
               times
               more
               upon
               me
               ,
               yet
               will
               I
               wait
               upon
               him
               ,
               for
               he
               is
               my
               stay
               ,
               and
               the
               hope
               of
               my
               Salvation
               :
               My
               pains
               are
               nothing
               to
               the
               pains
               of
               Hell
               ,
               where
               they
               will
               never
               be
               at
               an
               end
               .
               And
               Christ
               he
               suffered
               a
               great
               deal
               more
               for
               me
               then
               all
               this
               is
               ;
               he
               was
               bruised
               ,
               buffeted
               ,
               and
               spit
               upon
               ;
               and
               they
               platted
               a
               Crown
               of
               Thorns
               and
               put
               upon
               his
               Head
               ,
               and
               gave
               him
               Vinegar
               to
               drink
               :
               But
               I
               have
               several
               things
               to
               take
               ,
               though
               I
               cannot
               relish
               them
               .
               And
               they
               came
               out
               against
               Christ
               with
               Swords
               and
               Staves
               ,
               and
               Christ
               did
               not
               open
               his
               mouth
               against
               them
               ;
               but
               rebukes
               Peter
               for
               cutting
               the
               High
               Priests
               Servants
               ear
               ,
               and
               bid
               him
               put
               up
               his
               Sword
               into
               the
               Scabbard
               ,
               and
               said
               ,
               Shall
               not
               I
               drink
               of
               the
               Cup
               that
               my
               Father
               hath
               prepared
               for
               me
               ;
               though
               my
               pains
               are
               very
               great
               ,
               yet
               I
               am
               so
               full
               of
               joy
               and
               comfort
               :
               I
               was
               very
               full
               of
               comfort
               before
               ,
               but
               I
               am
               fuller
               of
               joy
               this
               hour
               than
               I
               have
               been
               yet
               .
               It
               is
               better
               to
               live
               
               Lazarus's
               life
               ,
               and
               to
               die
               
               Lazarus's
               death
               ,
               than
               to
               live
               Dives
               his
               life
               ;
               he
               had
               his
               delicates
               ,
               and
               afterwards
               would
               have
               been
               glad
               to
               have
               had
               Lazarus
               dip
               his
               finger
               in
               water
               and
               cool
               his
               tongue
               .
            
             
               Though
               the
               Lord
               give
               Satan
               power
               over
               my
               
               Body
               ,
               yet
               he
               hath
               promised
               he
               shall
               not
               hurt
               my
               Soul.
               The
               Devil
               could
               not
               go
               into
               the
               herd
               of
               Swine
               till
               Christ
               had
               given
               him
               leave
               :
               And
               though
               he
               stood
               at
               my
               left
               hand
               ,
               and
               said
               ,
               I
               am
               in
               filthy
               rags
               ;
               yet
               the
               Lord
               stands
               at
               my
               right
               hand
               ,
               and
               saith
               ,
               I
               am
               but
               a
               fire-brand
               newly
               plucked
               out
               of
               the
               fire
               ,
               and
               he
               will
               put
               on
               me
               his
               Robes
               of
               Righteousness
               .
            
             
               The
               last
               night
               I
               could
               not
               stir
               my
               Head.
               Hand
               ,
               nor
               Foot
               ,
               but
               by
               and
               by
               the
               Lord
               did
               help
               me
               to
               move
               my
               Head
               a
               little
               ,
               and
               at
               length
               my
               Body
               .
            
             
               O
               what
               a
               good
               God
               have
               I
               ,
               that
               can
               cast
               down
               and
               raise
               up
               in
               a
               moment
               ;
               but
               here
               is
               only
               looking
               at
               the
               Physician
               ;
               as
               many
               ,
               when
               they
               have
               been
               sick
               and
               well
               again
               ,
               they
               say
               ,
               Such
               a
               Physician
               ,
               and
               such
               a
               Physician
               hath
               cured
               them
               ,
               &
               they
               neglect
               looking
               up
               to
               the
               Lord.
               
            
             
               It
               is
               true
               ,
               the
               Lord
               doth
               appoint
               the
               means
               to
               make
               use
               of
               ,
               but
               nothing
               will
               do
               us
               good
               ,
               except
               he
               give
               a
               blessing
               to
               it
               .
               O
               that
               we
               had
               Faith
               as
               that
               Woman
               had
               ,
               that
               had
               spent
               all
               upon
               Physicians
               and
               did
               her
               no
               good
               ;
               &
               then
               came
               and
               touched
               the
               Hem
               of
               Christs
               Garment
               ;
               and
               when
               Christ
               felt
               vertue
               go
               out
               of
               him
               he
               asked
               his
               Disciples
               ,
               Who
               touched
               him
               ?
               then
               she
               trembled
               ,
               but
               Christ
               said
               ,
               Rise
               up
               Daughter
               ,
               thy
               Faith
               hath
               made
               thee
               whole
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             Of
             the
             Expressions
             of
             an
             hopeful
             Child
             ,
             the
             daughter
             of
             Mr.
             Edward
             Scarfield
             ,
             that
             was
             but
             eleven
             years
             of
             Age
             in
             March
             ,
             1661.
             
             Gathered
             from
             a
             Letter
             written
             by
             one
             fearing
             God
             ,
             that
             lived
             in
             the
             house
             with
             the
             Child
             .
          
           
             
               IN
               August
            
             last
             ,
             this
             Child
             was
             sick
             of
             a
             Feaver
             ;
             in
             which
             time
             she
             said
             to
             her
             Father
             ,
             (
             who
             is
             a
             holy
             ,
             humble
             ,
             precious
             man
             ,
             )
             
               I
               am
               afraid
               ,
               I
               am
               not
               prepared
               to
               die
            
             ;
             and
             fell
             under
             much
             trouble
             of
             Spirit
             ,
             being
             sensible
             ,
             not
             only
             of
             actual
             sins
             ,
             but
             of
             her
             lost
             estate
             without
             Christ
             ,
             in
             unbelief
             ,
             (
             as
             
               Ephes
               .
               2.
               12.
               
               John
            
             16.
             8
             ,
             9.
             )
             and
             she
             wept
             bitterly
             ,
             crying
             out
             thus
             ,
             
               My
               sins
               are
               greater
               than
               I
               can
               bear
               ,
               I
               doubt
               God
               will
               not
               forgive
               them
               :
            
             telling
             her
             Father
             ,
             
               I
               am
               in
               unbelief
               ,
               and
               I
               cannot
               believe
               :
            
             Yet
             she
             was
             drawn
             out
             to
             pray
             many
             times
             in
             those
             words
             of
             
               Psal
               .
               25.
               
               For
               thy
               names
               sake
               ,
               O
               Lord
               pardon
               my
               sin
               ,
               for
               it
               is
               great
               .
            
             Thus
             she
             lay
             oft
             mourning
             for
             sin
             ,
             and
             said
             ,
             
               I
               had
               rather
               have
               Christ
               than
               health
               .
            
             She
             would
             
             repeat
             many
             promises
             of
             Gods
             Mercy
             and
             Grace
             ,
             but
             said
             ,
             she
             could
             not
             believe
             .
          
           
             When
             she
             had
             been
             complaining
             ,
             that
             she
             was
             not
             prepared
             ;
             her
             Father
             opening
             the
             Bible
             ,
             his
             eyes
             first
             fixed
             upon
             these
             words
             ,
             (
             in
             Psal
             .
             10.
             17.
             )
             
               Lord
               ,
               thou
               wilt
               prepare
               the
               heart
               ,
               thou
               wilt
               cause
               thine
               ear
               to
               hear
            
             ;
             and
             he
             bid
             her
             take
             notice
             of
             the
             Lords
             providence
             therein
             ,
             ordering
             the
             opening
             of
             the
             Book
             ,
             and
             his
             eyes
             to
             pitch
             on
             these
             words
             .
             The
             next
             day
             ,
             when
             she
             was
             mourning
             for
             sin
             ,
             he
             opening
             it
             again
             ,
             his
             eyes
             fixed
             on
             those
             words
             in
             Ma●th
             .
             5.
             
             
               Blessed
               are
               they
               that
               mourn
               ,
               for
               they
               shall
               be
               comforted
               .
            
             He
             bid
             her
             observe
             that
             Providence
             of
             also
             .
             But
             as
             yet
             her
             time
             was
             not
             come
             ,
             and
             she
             still
             mourned
             under
             her
             unbelief
             .
          
           
             The
             next
             day
             ,
             being
             then
             the
             24th
             of
             the
             6th
             month
             1661.
             he
             praying
             that
             morning
             with
             his
             godly
             Family
             ,
             (
             as
             his
             usual
             way
             hath
             been
             for
             many
             years
             to
             pray
             with
             them
             ,
             and
             read
             the
             Scriptures
             ,
             or
             Cat●chise
             them
             daily
             morning
             and
             evening
             ;
             )
             Behold
             and
             see
             what
             gracious
             incouragement
             the
             Lord
             gave
             him
             in
             his
             Service
             ,
             as
             he
             was
             praying
             to
             this
             effect
             ,
             
               (
               That
               we
               might
               not
               look
               for
               any
               thing
               in
               us
               to
               rest
               in
               ,
               or
               trust
               unto
               for
               our
               Justitfication
               to
               stand
               righteous
               before
               God
               ;
               but
               only
               in
               Jesus
               Christ
               alone
               ,
               
               who
               died
               for
               our
               sins
               at
            
             Jerusalem
             ,
             
               and
               rose
               again
               for
               our
               Justification
               .
            
             )
             Whilst
             he
             was
             praying
             to
             that
             effect
             ,
             the
             Lord
             raised
             her
             Soul
             up
             to
             believe
             ▪
             as
             she
             told
             her
             Father
             when
             Prayer
             was
             ended
             ,
             
               Now
               I
               believe
               in
               Christ
               ,
               and
               I
               am
               not
               afraid
               of
               Death
               .
            
          
           
             After
             this
             ,
             she
             said
             ,
             
               I
               had
               rather
               die
               than
               sin
               against
               God.
            
             Since
             that
             time
             she
             hath
             continued
             quiet
             in
             mind
             ,
             as
             one
             that
             hath
             peace
             with
             God.
             
          
           
             As
             for
             this
             young
             Child
             I
             have
             been
             comforted
             in
             seeing
             her
             ,
             and
             hearing
             her
             answer
             some
             Questions
             propounded
             to
             her
             five
             years
             ago
             .
          
           
             Her
             Father
             saith
             ,
             that
             since
             she
             was
             five
             years
             old
             ,
             he
             remembred
             not
             that
             either
             a
             Lie
             ,
             or
             an
             Oath
             hath
             ever
             come
             out
             of
             her
             mouth
             ;
             neither
             would
             she
             have
             wronged
             any
             to
             the
             value
             of
             a
             Pin.
             
          
        
         
           
             Henry
             Jessey
             .
          
        
         
           Here
           ends
           the
           first
           part
           .
        
      
       
         
         
           Here
           follows
           now
           some
           of
           the
           Fruits
           of
           Mr.
           Abraham
           Chear's
           spare
           hours
           improvement
           ,
           whilst
           a
           Prisoner
           :
           Made
           and
           directed
           to
           some
           he
           was
           nearly
           related
           to
           ,
           and
           dearly
           affected
           .
        
         
           
             Remember
             now
             thy
             Creator
             in
             the
             dayes
             of
             thy
             Youth
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               SWeet
               Children
               ,
               Wisdom
               you
               invites
               ,
            
             
               to
               hearken
               to
               her
               Voice
               ;
            
             
               She
               offers
               to
               you
               rare
               delights
               ,
            
             
               Most
               worthy
               of
               your
               choice
               .
            
             
               Eternal
               blessings
               in
               his
               wayes
               ,
            
             
               You
               shall
               be
               sure
               to
               find
               ;
            
             
               Oh!
               therefore
               in
               your
               youthful
               dayes
               ,
            
             
               your
               great
               Creator
               mind
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               The
               joy
               that
               other
               pleasure
               brings
               ,
            
             
               with
               vanities
               abound
               :
            
             
               ●ay
               ;
               when
               in
               straits
               they
               take
               them
               wings
               ,
            
             
               vexations
               they
               are
               found
               .
            
             
             
               Your
               very
               Vitals
               thus
               decayes
               ,
            
             
               and
               torments
               leave
               behind
               :
            
             
               Oh!
               therefore
               in
               your
               youthful
               days
               ,
            
             
               your
               Great
               Creator
               mind
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               They
               may
               affect
               depraved
               sense
            
             
               while
               they
               subject
               your
               Reason
               ;
            
             
               They
               say
               ,
               to
               conscience
               ,
               get
               you
               hence
               ,
            
             
               and
               fear
               it
               for
               a
               season
               .
            
             
               But
               though
               a
               kind
               of
               sottish
               ease
               ,
            
             
               you
               hereby
               seem
               to
               find
               ,
            
             
               I
               beg
               you
               in
               your
               youthfull
               dayes
               ,
            
             
               your
               Great
               Creator
               mind
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               The
               dreadful
               danger
               heed
               I
               pray
               ,
            
             
               of
               such
               strange
               wayes
               at
               length
               ;
            
             
               When
               you
               have
               sin'd
               your
               time
               away
               ,
            
             
               and
               wasted
               all
               your
               strength
               ;
            
             
               Be
               sure
               ,
               in
               chains
               of
               darkness
               ,
               these
            
             
               your
               hands
               and
               seet
               will
               bind
               :
            
             
               Oh!
               therefore
               in
               your
               youthful
               days
               ,
            
             
               your
               Great
               Creator
               mind
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Observe
               how
               poor
               mortal
               men
               ,
            
             
               their
               precious
               seasons
               spend
               ,
            
             
               To
               satisfie
               those
               lusts
               ,
               but
               then
            
             
               must
               perish
               in
               the
               end
               .
            
             
               This
               saving
               Counsel
               ,
               would
               you
               please
            
             
               upon
               your
               heart
               to
               bind
               :
            
             
               Oh!
               in
               your
               early
               yourthful
               dayes
               ,
            
             
               your
               Great
               Creator
               mind
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Upon
               a
               World
               ,
               vain
               toylsome
               ,
               foul
               ,
            
             
               a
               journey
               now
               you
               enter
               :
            
             
               The
               welfare
               of
               your
               living
               Soul
               ,
            
             
               you
               dangerously
               adventure
            
             
               If
               as
               the
               is●ue
               of
               your
               wayes
               ,
            
             
               yo●ve
               happiness
               design'd
               :
            
             
               Oh!
               in
               your
               early
               youthful
               dayes
            
             
               your
               Great
               Creator
               mind
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               7.
               
            
             
               Friends
               ,
               parents
               ,
               all
               who
               you
               affect
               ,
            
             
               observe
               your
               budding
               spring
               ;
            
             
               Your
               prosperous
               Summer
               they
               expect
               ,
            
             
               a
               fruitful
               Crop
               will
               bring
               :
            
             
               A
               witness
               in
               this
               age
               to
               raise
               ,
            
             
               to
               Grace
               of
               every
               kind
               :
            
             
               Oh!
               then
               in
               these
               your
               youthful
               dayes
               ,
            
             
               your
               Great●
               Creator
               mind
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               Young
               
               Isaack's
               ,
               who
               lift
               up
               their
               eyes
               ,
            
             
               and
               meditate
               in
               Fields
               ;
            
             
               Young
               
               Jacob's
               ,
               who
               the
               Blessing
               prize
               ,
            
             
               this
               age
               but
               seldome
               yeelds
               .
            
             
               Few
               
               Samuel's
               ,
               leaving
               their
               playes
               ,
            
             
               to
               Temple
               Work
               resign'd
               :
            
             
               Few
               do
               ,
               as
               these
               ,
               in
               youthful
               dayes
               ,
            
             
               their
               Great
               Creator
               mind
               .
            
          
           
             
               9.
               
            
             
               How
               precious
               
               Obodiah's
               b●
               ,
            
             
               that
               feared
               God
               in
               youth
               ;
            
             
               How
               seldome
               
               Timothy's
               we
               see
               ,
            
             
               ●erst
               in
               the
               Word
               of
               Truth
               .
            
             
               Few
               Babes
               and
               Sucklings
               publish
               praise
               ,
            
             
               th'
               Avengers
               Rage
               to
               bind
               .
            
             
               Oh!
               then
               in
               these
               your
               youthful
               dayes
               ,
            
             
               your
               Great
               Creator
               mind
               .
            
          
           
             
               10.
               
            
             
               Few
               tender-hearted
               youths
               ,
               as
               was
            
             
               Josiah
               ,
               
               Judah's
               King
               ;
            
             
               Ho●annah
               in
               the
               high'st
               (
               alas
               )
            
             
               how
               seldom
               Children
               Sing
               ?
            
             
               Youth
               's
               rarely
               ask
               for
               
               Zion's
               wayes
               ,
            
             
               they
               'd
               rather
               pleasure
               find
               :
            
             
               But
               oh
               !
               in
               these
               your
               youthful
               dayes
               ,
            
             
               your
               Great
               Creator
               mind
               .
            
          
           
             
               11.
               
            
             
               What
               Children
               Pulse
               and
               Water
               chuse
               ,
            
             
               continually
               to
               eat
               ;
            
             
               Rather
               then
               Conscience
               should
               accuse
               ,
            
             
               for
               tasting
               Royal
               Meat
               ?
            
             
             
               Would
               you
               not
               bow
               ,
               a
               King
               to
               please
               ,
            
             
               though
               tortures
               were
               behind
               ?
            
             
               Oh!
               then
               in
               these
               your
               youthful
               dayes
               ,
            
             
               your
               Great
               Creator
               mind
               .
            
          
           
             
               12.
               
            
             
               Those
               worthy
               Mirrors
               of
               thier
               Age
               ,
            
             
               obtain'd
               a
               precious
               Name
               ;
            
             
               Their
               living
               Patern
               should
               engage
            
             
               your
               souls
               to
               do
               the
               same
               .
            
             
               And
               though
               in
               this
               strait
               narrow
               way
               ,
            
             
               you
               few
               Companions
               find
               ;
            
             
               The
               rather
               in
               your
               youthful
               day
               ,
            
             
               your
               Great
               Creator
               mind
               .
            
          
           
             
               13.
               
            
             
               How
               worthy
               Christ
               is
               ,
               could
               you
               learn
               ,
            
             
               to
               claim
               your
               Flower
               and
               Prime
               ;
            
             
               And
               how
               well
               pleasing
               't
               is
               ,
               discern
            
             
               to
               dedicate
               your
               time
               :
            
             
               You
               pleasantly
               would
               make
               essayes
               ,
            
             
               to
               get
               your
               Souls
               enclin'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               gladly
               in
               your
               youthful
               dayes
               ,
            
             
               your
               Great
               Creator
               mind
               .
            
          
           
             
               14.
               
            
             
               This
               Garland
               wreath'd
               of
               youthful
               flowers
            
             
               to
               Jesus
               you
               would
               bring
               :
            
             
               This
               Morn
               made
               up
               of
               Golden
               Hours
               ,
            
             
               you
               would
               present
               the
               King.
            
             
               You
               'd
               humbly
               bow
               ,
               without
               delayes
               ,
            
             
               Grace
               in
               his
               sight
               to
               find
               ;
            
             
               And
               gladly
               now
               ,
               and
               all
               your
               dayes
               ,
            
             
               your
               Great
               Creator
               mind
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             More
             of
             Mr.
             Chear's
             Verses
             ,
             Written
             to
             a
             young
             Virgin
             ,
             Anno
             1663.
             
          
           
             
               Sweet
               Child
               ,
            
          
           
             
               When
               I
               bethink
               what
               need
               there
               is
               of
               care
               ,
            
             
               For
               precious
               souls
               to
               save
               themselves
               from
               snare
               ;
            
             
             
               That
               Satan
               ,
               as
               a
               subtil
               Fouler
               ,
               layes
            
             
               To
               take
               and
               keep
               them
               captive
               all
               their
               dayes
            
             
               In
               youthf●l
               folly
               ,
               and
               in
               sensual
               rest
               ,
            
             
               To
               keep
               them
               off
               from
               being
               truly
               blest
               ;
            
             
               What
               strange
               devices
               he
               hath
               to
               expel
               ,
            
             
               Their
               thoughts
               of
               Judgment
               ,
               Death
               ,
               of
               Heaven
               ,
               or
               Hell
               ;
            
             
               And
               minding
               what
               engag●ments
               on
               me
               lie
               ,
            
             
               To
               you
               ,
               and
               others
               ,
               Christ
               to
               testifie
               ,
            
             
               This
               Song
               ,
               I
               thought
               ,
               you
               now
               and
               then
               might
               sing
            
             
               If
               God
               would
               follow
               it
               ,
               to
               mind
               to
               bring
            
             
               Your
               state
               by
               Nature
               ,
               and
               the
               Gospel
               Path
               ,
            
             
               To
               set
               you
               free
               from
               everlasting
               Wrath.
            
             
               If
               morn
               by
               morn
               ,
               you
               in
               this
               Glass
               will
               dress
               you
               ,
            
             
               I
               have
               some
               hopes
               that
               God
               by
               it
               may
               bless
               you
               .
            
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               WHen
               by
               Spectators
               I
               am
               told
               ,
            
             
               what
               Beauty
               doth
               adorn
               me
               :
            
             
               Or
               in
               a
               Glass
               ,
               when
               I
               behold
               ,
            
             
               How
               sweetly
               God
               did
               from
               me
               .
            
             
               Hath
               God
               such
               comliness
               display'd
               ,
            
             
               and
               on
               me
               made
               to
               dwell
            
             
               'T
               is
               pitty
               ,
               such
               a
               pretty
               Maid
               ,
            
             
               as
               I
               should
               go
               to
               Hell.
               
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               When
               all
               my
               Members
               I
               compare
               ,
            
             
               form'd
               by
               my
               Maker's
               hand
               ;
            
             
               In
               what
               sweet
               order
               ,
               strait
               and
               faire
               ,
            
             
               each
               part
               together
               stand
               :
            
             
               How
               in
               the
               use
               of
               these
               might
               I
               ,
            
             
               in
               vertue
               's
               Walks
               excell
               .
            
             
               'T
               is
               pitty
               when
               I
               come
               to
               die
               ,
            
             
               all
               these
               should
               go
               to
               Hell.
               
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Doth
               God
               my
               ornaments
               provide
               ,
            
             
               of
               soft
               and
               good
               aray
               ;
            
             
               The
               which
               this
               Age
               converts
               to
               pride
               ,
            
             
               I
               am
               as
               vain
               as
               they
               .
            
             
               But
               when
               the
               thoughts
               of
               Pride
               entice
               ,
            
             
               such
               temprings
               I
               should
               quell
               ;
            
             
               By
               serious
               heeding
               this
               advice
               ,
            
             
               I
               must
               take
               heed
               of
               Hell.
               
            
          
           
             
             
               4.
               
            
             
               If
               Parents
               industry
               and
               care
               ,
            
             
               should
               by
               the
               Lord
               be
               blest
               ,
            
             
               That
               they
               large
               portions
               could
               prepare
               ,
            
             
               for
               me
               and
               all
               the
               rest
               .
            
             
               Though
               many
               Suitors
               this
               invites
               ,
            
             
               my
               Fortunes
               might
               excell
               :
            
             
               What
               would
               become
               of
               these
               delights
               ,
            
             
               if
               I
               should
               go
               to
               Hell
               ?
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Should
               Wisdom
               ,
               Breeding
               ,
               parts
               conspire
               ,
            
             
               my
               spreading
               fame
               to
               raise
               :
            
             
               Should
               Courtly
               Ladies
               me
               admire
               ,
            
             
               and
               my
               perfections
               praise
               .
            
             
               Though
               for
               Endowments
               ,
               rare
               and
               high
               ,
            
             
               from
               all
               I
               bare
               the
               Bell
               :
            
             
               What
               would
               these
               toys
               avail
               ,
               if
               I
            
             
               at
               leng●●t
               be
               lodg'd
               in
               Hell
               ?
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               If
               to
               seek
               pleasures
               ,
               Pastimes
               ,
               Sports
               ,
            
             
               My
               fancy
               should
               be
               bent
               ;
            
             
               Which
               City
               ,
               Countrey
               ,
               Town
               ,
               or
               Court
               ,
            
             
               to
               please
               me
               can
               invent
               :
            
             
               Though
               thus
               to
               satisfie
               my
               lust
               ,
            
             
               with
               greediness
               I
               fell
               ;
            
             
               By
               weeping-Cross
               ,
               return
               I
               must
            
             
               or
               else
               go
               quick
               to
               Hell.
               
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               Doth
               Beauty
               such
               corruption
               Hide
               ?
            
             
               is
               comliness
               a
               bait
               ?
            
             
               Do
               costly
               Garments
               nouirsh
               pride
               ?
            
             
               hath
               Treasure
               such
               deceit
               ?
            
             
               Do
               Complements
               breed
               vanity
               ?
            
             
               doth
               pleasure
               Grace
               expel
               ?
            
             
               How
               little
               reason
               then
               have
               I
            
             
               for
               these
               to
               go
               to
               Hell
               ?
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               'T
               is
               time
               I
               should
               without
               delayes
               ,
            
             
               my
               〈◊〉
               state
               bethink
               ;
            
             
               Th
               ●●gh
               God's
               forbearance
               ,
               at
               my
               dayes
            
             
               of
               ignorance
               did
               wink
               .
            
             
             
               Repentance
               he
               doth
               now
               expect
               ,
            
             
               and
               learning
               to
               do
               well
               ;
            
             
               For
               plainly
               he
               doth
               this
               detect
               ,
            
             
               this
               broad
               way
               leads
               to
               Hell.
               
            
          
           
             
               9.
               
            
             
               To
               chuse
               the
               new
               and
               living
               way
               ,
            
             
               the
               Gospel
               doth
               beseech
               me
               ;
            
             
               The
               heart
               of
               Jesus
               ,
               day
               by
               day
               ,
            
             
               is
               open'd
               to
               enrich
               me
               .
            
             
               The
               tenders
               of
               New-Cov'nant
               Grace
               ,
            
             
               would
               sin
               and
               guilt
               expel
               ;
            
             
               The
               promis'd
               Spirit
               would
               me
               place
               ,
            
             
               safe
               from
               the
               lowest
               Hell.
               
            
          
           
             
               10.
               
            
             
               Would
               Christ
               my
               Spirit
               lead
               along
               ,
            
             
               these
               tenders
               to
               embrace
               ,
            
             
               I
               should
               have
               matter
               for
               a
               Song
               ,
            
             
               to
               praise
               his
               Glorious
               Grace
               .
            
             
               How
               first
               of
               goodness
               I
               was
               seiz'd
            
             
               from
               what
               a
               state
               I
               fell
               ;
            
             
               To
               what
               a
               glory
               God
               hath
               rais'd
               ,
            
             
               a
               Fire-brand
               pluckt
               from
               Hell.
               
            
          
        
         
           
             To
             my
             Cousin
             T.
             H.
             at
             School
             .
          
           
             KInd
             Kinsman
             !
             Complem●nts
             apart
             ,
          
           
             Yet
             love
             exprest
             with
             all
             my
             heart
             ;
          
           
             White
             I
             bethought
             what
             way
             was
             bes●
             ,
          
           
             To
             gratifie
             a
             strong
             request
             ;
          
           
             And
             how
             to
             reach
             the
             proper
             ●nd
             ,
          
           
             That
             was
             ●ssign'd
             me
             by
             a
             Friend
             ;
          
           
             That
             I
             would
             write
             a
             seri●us
             line
             ,
          
           
             Your
             tender
             Spirit
             to
             incl●ne
             ,
          
           
             If
             possibly
             ,
             from
             wanton
             things
             ,
          
           
             Which
             carry
             with
             them
             poysn●d
             〈◊〉
             ,
          
           
           
             And
             kindly
             to
             attract
             your
             eye
             ,
          
           
             From
             vanity
             to
             things
             on
             high
             :
          
           
             My
             thoughts
             to
             Meeter
             were
             inclin'd
             ,
          
           
             As
             thinking
             on
             a
             Schollars
             mind
             ,
          
           
             It
             might
             at
             first
             with
             fansie
             take
             ,
          
           
             And
             after
             deep
             impressions
             make
             :
          
           
             Which
             Oh!
             If
             God
             would
             but
             inspire
             ,
          
           
             Convince
             of
             folly
             ,
             raise
             desire
             ;
          
           
             Discover
             Beauty
             ,
             kindle
             Love
             ,
          
           
             Fix
             your
             delight
             on
             things
             Above
             ;
          
           
             These
             weak
             endeavours
             then
             may
             stand
             ,
          
           
             As
             Christ's
             remembrances
             at
             hand
             .
          
           
             To
             warn
             you
             ,
             folly
             to
             avoid
             ,
          
           
             Which
             hath
             such
             multitudes
             destroy'd
             ;
          
           
             And
             thence
             your
             nobler
             part
             incline
             ,
          
           
             To
             Meditations
             more
             Divine
             ;
          
           
             Which
             have
             a
             faculty
             to
             raise
             .
          
           
             Immortal
             Souls
             to
             frames
             of
             praise
             :
          
           
             By
             means
             of
             which
             ,
             when
             you
             obtain
             ,
          
           
             Your
             Spirit
             in
             a
             serious
             strain
             ;
          
           
             when
             vanity
             hath
             least
             respect
             ;
          
           
             And
             thoughts
             are
             fittest
             to
             reflect
             ;
          
           
             Then
             from
             your
             Treasure
             you
             may
             bring
             ,
          
           
             This
             brief
             Solil●quie
             ,
             and
             Sing
             ,
          
           
             COme
             Soul
             !
             let
             you
             and
             I
             ,
          
           
             A
             few
             discourses
             have
             :
          
           
             Shall
             we
             bethink
             ,
             how
             near
             the
             brink
             ,
          
           
             We
             border
             of
             the
             Grave
             ?
          
           
             Shall
             we
             surveigh
             our
             time
             ,
          
           
             How
             vainly
             it
             is
             spent
             ;
          
           
             How
             youthful
             dayes
             consume
             in
             wayes
             ,
          
           
             Which
             Age
             must
             needs
             repent
             ?
          
           
             The
             things
             which
             others
             please
             ;
          
           
             What
             profit
             do
             they
             merit
             ?
          
           
             What
             are
             the
             Toyes
             ,
             of
             wanton
             Boyes
             ,
          
           
             to
             an
             immortal
             Spirit
             ?
          
           
             How
             will
             our
             Reckoning
             pass
             ,
          
           
             Of
             pastim
             ,
             Pleasure
             ,
             play
             ,
          
           
             When
             every
             thought
             and
             Deed
             is
             brought
             ,
          
           
             Unto
             the
             Judgment
             Day
             ?
          
           
           
             Would
             not
             our
             time
             and
             strength
             ,
          
           
             Be
             better
             far
             imploy'd
             ,
          
           
             If
             every
             thought
             ,
             were
             this
             way
             wrought
             ,
          
           
             How
             Christ
             may
             be
             injoy'd
             ?
          
           
             Should
             not
             a
             young
             man's
             way
             ,
          
           
             Be
             ordered
             by
             the
             Word
             ?
          
           
             Should
             not
             his
             mind
             ,
             be
             still
             inclin'd
             ?
          
           
             To
             know
             and
             fear
             the
             Lord
             ?
          
           
             If
             we
             behold
             our
             Frame
             ,
          
           
             Our
             parts
             and
             powers
             compare
             ;
          
           
             Sure
             ,
             God
             intends
             some
             glorious
             ends
             ,
          
           
             To
             form
             a
             piece
             so
             rare
             .
          
        
         
           
             A
             Letter
             sent
             to
             a
             Friend's
             Child
             .
          
           
             
               Sweet
               Child
               .
               I
               pray
               you
               ,
               think
               not
               long
               ,
            
             
               E're
               I
               have
               sent
               my
               Pr●●o●-Song
               ;
            
             
               To
               turn
               ,
               after
               a
               Godly
               sort
               ,
            
             
               Your
               tongue
               ,
               and
               thoughts
               ,
               from
               sinful
               sport
               .
            
             
               Pray
               let
               it
               frequently
               be
               brought
               ,
            
             
               With
               holy
               fear
               upon
               your
               thought
               ;
            
             
               And
               when
               indeed
               your
               So●l
               is
               bent
               ,
            
             
               On
               things
               that
               are
               most
               permanent
               .
            
             
               When
               least
               to
               foolish
               mir●h
               inclin'd
               ,
            
             
               Then
               from
               the
               Treasure
               of
               your
               mind
               ,
            
             
               This
               serious
               Song
               ,
               you
               forth
               may
               bring
               ,
            
             
               ●ith
               Gospel
               Melody
               ,
               and
               Sing
               ,
            
          
           
             
               LOrd
               what
               a
               worm
               am
               I
               ?
            
             
               what
               could'st
               thou
               here
               espie
               ?
            
             
               That
               ever
               thou
               ,
               should'st
               humbly
               bow
               ,
            
             
               On
               me
               to
               cast
               an
               eye
               ?
            
             
               What
               kind
               of
               Love
               is
               this
               ?
            
             
               What
               reason
               can
               it
               have
               ?
            
             
               Shall
               God
               through
               Grace
               ,
               himself
               abase
               ,
            
             
               So
               vile
               a
               Wretch
               to
               save
               ?
            
             
             
               How
               strangely
               was
               I
               made
               ?
            
             
               How
               curiously
               adorn'd
               ?
            
             
               I
               was
               at
               first
               ,
               an
               heap
               of
               dust
               ,
            
             
               Which
               sin
               hath
               quite
               deform'd
            
          
           
             
               My
               Matter
               ,
               Earth
               and
               Clay
               ,
            
             
               Form'd
               by
               a
               power
               Divine
               :
            
             
               Sure
               God
               would
               hide
               ,
               all
               cause
               of
               pride
            
             
               From
               every
               thought
               of
               mine
               .
            
          
           
             
               My
               Childish
               thoughts
               would
               cease
               ,
            
             
               On
               vanity
               to
               stay
               ,
            
             
               Could
               I
               bethink
               ,
               I
               'm
               on
               the
               brink
            
             
               Of
               danger
               day
               by
               day
               ,
            
          
           
             
               Temp●ations
               lead
               to
               sin
               ;
            
             
               Sin
               doth
               of
               good
               bereave
               me
               :
            
             
               Cloathes
               ,
               Beauty
               ,
               Streng●h
               ,
               and
               Life
               at
               Length
            
             
               Are
               all
               at
               hand
               to
               leave
               me
               .
            
          
           
             
               Why
               then
               should
               gay
               att●re
               ,
            
             
               Yield
               so
               much
               food
               to
               pride
               ?
            
             
               What
               glory
               's
               in
               a
               beareous
               skin
               ,
            
             
               That
               so
               much
               filth
               doth
               hide
               ?
            
          
           
             
               Why
               should
               the
               fond
               delights
            
             
               Of
               parents
               puff
               me
               up
               ?
            
             
               Such
               boundless
               love
               ,
               doth
               often
               prove
               ,
            
             
               To
               both
               a
               bitter
               Cup.
               
            
          
           
             
               Why
               should
               the
               highest
               joyes
            
             
               Of
               Sin
               subject
               my
               reason
               ?
            
             
               The
               sinful
               Sports
               of
               Princes
               Courts
               ,
            
             
               Last
               only
               for
               a
               season
               .
            
          
           
             
               Lord
               let
               my
               Soul
               be
               rais'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               all
               its
               powers
               incline
               .
            
             
               On
               Eagles
               Wings
               ,
               to
               follow
               things
               ,
            
             
               That
               are
               indeed
               Divine
               .
            
          
           
             
               Those
               depths
               that
               from
               the
               wise
            
             
               Thou
               pleasest
               to
               conceal
               ;
            
             
               Mysterious
               things
               ,
               obscur'd
               from
               Kings
               ,
            
             
               To
               me
               a
               Babe
               reveal
               ,
            
          
           
             
             
               That
               from
               an
               Infants
               Mouth
               ,
            
             
               A
               Suckliugs
               Lips
               inspir'd
               ;
            
             
               Thy
               glorious
               Name
               ,
               may
               purchase
               same
               ,
            
             
               And
               Christ
               be
               more
               admir'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               Let
               me
               thy
               Beauty
               see
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Countenance
               behold
               :
            
             
               Thy
               Rayes
               of
               Grace
               ,
               fixt
               in
               my
               face
               ,
            
             
               More
               rich
               than
               Massy
               Gold.
               
            
          
           
             
               Let
               Royal
               Robes
               of
               Praise
               ,
            
             
               And
               Righteousness
               adorn
               me
               ,
            
             
               Which
               may
               me
               bring
               ,
               before
               the
               King
               ,
            
             
               How
               ever
               Mortals
               scorn
               me
               .
            
          
           
             
               Let
               Treasures
               of
               thy
               Grace
               ,
            
             
               A
               portion
               rich
               endow
               me
               ;
            
             
               In
               lasting
               Bags
               ,
               though
               here
               in
               Rags
               ,
            
             
               Men
               scarce
               a
               bit
               allow
               me
               .
            
          
           
             
               If
               Comeliness
               I
               want
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Beauty
               may
               I
               have
               ;
            
             
               I
               shall
               be
               fair
               ,
               beyond
               compare
               ,
            
             
               Though
               cripled
               to
               my
               Grave
               .
            
          
           
             
               And
               if
               above
               it
               all
               ,
            
             
               To
               Christ
               I
               married
               be
               ;
            
             
               My
               living
               Springs
               ,
               Oh
               king
               of
               Kings
               ,
            
             
               Will
               still
               run
               fresh
               in
               thee
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Vpon
             a
             Bible
             sent
             as
             a
             Token
             to
             a
             young
             Virgin
             ,
             wherein
             the
             worth
             of
             the
             holy
             Scripture
             is
             minded
             .
          
           
             
               WHile
               I
               was
               musing
               what
               was
               〈◊〉
            
             
               unto
               your
               hands
               to
               send
               ▪
            
             
               That
               of
               your
               Souls
               eternal
               rest
               ,
            
             
               my
               care
               I
               might
               commend
               ▪
            
          
           
             
             
               The
               Holy
               Scriptures
               I
               bethought
               ,
            
             
               oft
               tendring
               to
               your
               heart
               ,
            
             
               That
               your
               affections
               might
               be
               brought
               ,
            
             
               to
               choose
               the
               better
               part
               .
            
          
           
             
               There
               you
               may
               read
               what
               guilt
               of
               sin
               ,
            
             
               into
               the
               World
               you
               brought
               ?
            
             
               And
               since
               what
               filthiness
               hath
               bin
               ,
            
             
               in
               Word
               ,
               in
               Deed
               ,
               in
               Thought
               :
            
             
               How
               God's
               long-suffering
               ,
               sins
               have
               prest
               ,
            
             
               as
               sheaves
               do
               press
               a
               Cart
               ;
            
             
               And
               nothing
               else
               can
               make
               you
               blest
               ,
            
             
               but
               
               Mary's
               better
               part
               .
            
          
           
             
               That
               God
               hath
               holy
               jealous
               eyes
               ,
            
             
               the
               Scriptures
               do
               unfold
               ;
            
             
               By
               which
               heart-secrets
               he
               espies
               ,
            
             
               yet
               cannot
               sin
               behold
               .
            
             
               Through
               shades
               of
               Death
               ,
               and
               darkest
               night
               ,
            
             
               these
               piercing
               Beams
               do
               dart
               ;
            
             
               He
               looks
               on
               nothing
               with
               delight
               ,
            
             
               but
               on
               that
               better
               part
               .
            
          
           
             
               With
               flaming
               fire
               you
               also
               read
               ,
            
             
               a
               Judgment
               day
               design'd
               ,
            
             
               Where
               every
               idle
               Thought
               and
               Deed
               ,
            
             
               Must
               righteous
               Sentence
               find
               .
            
             
               There
               Kings
               stand
               naked
               ,
               Death
               hath
               harl'd
            
             
               their
               Robes
               and
               Crowns
               apart
               ;
            
             
               Then
               ,
               but
               too
               late
               ,
               they
               'l
               give
               the
               World
            
             
               for
               
               Mary's
               better
               part
               .
            
          
           
             
               Then
               to
               have
               Jesus
               Christ
               ones
               own
               ,
            
             
               will
               be
               admired
               Grace
               ;
            
             
               To
               stand
               with
               boldness
               at
               the
               Throne
               ,
            
             
               and
               see
               the
               Father's
               Face
               .
            
             
               To
               sit
               on
               Thrones
               ,
               when
               Christ
               shall
               say
               ,
            
             
               Ye
               wicked
               ones
               depart
               .
            
             
               But
               come
               ye
               blessed
               in
               my
               day
               ,
            
             
               ye
               chose
               the
               better
               Part.
               
            
          
           
             
               The
               tenders
               of
               his
               Grace
               so
               rich
               ,
            
             
               here
               Jesus
               doth
               display
               .
            
             
             
               He
               scarlet-sinners
               doth
               beseech
               ,
            
             
               his
               Gospel
               to
               obey
               :
            
             
               To
               let
               sins
               settered
               Captives
               free
               ,
            
             
               and
               heal
               the
               broken
               heart
               ;
            
             
               He
               begs
               them
               on
               his
               bended
               knee
               ,
            
             
               to
               chuse
               the
               better
               part
               .
            
          
           
             
               Deep
               Myst'ries
               of
               eternal
               Love
               ,
            
             
               hid
               from
               the
               Saints
               of
               old
               ;
            
             
               To
               Babes
               and
               Sucklings
               from
               above
               ,
            
             
               these
               Scriptures
               do
               unfold
               :
            
             
               Not
               in
               the
               words
               of
               frothy
               Wits
               ,
            
             
               or
               humane
               terms
               of
               art
               ;
            
             
               But
               such
               simplicity
               as
               fits
               ,
            
             
               the
               Spirit
               's
               better
               part
               .
            
          
           
             
               The
               glory
               of
               the
               Father's
               Face
               ,
            
             
               the
               burning
               Law
               declares
               :
            
             
               The
               beauty
               of
               Christ's
               precious
               Grace
               ,
            
             
               the
               Gospel
               here
               prepares
               .
            
             
               Both
               Grace
               and
               Glory
               here
               unite
               ,
            
             
               to
               heal
               sins
               deadly
               smart
               .
            
             
               The
               spirit
               ,
               and
               the
               Bride
               invite
               ,
            
             
               to
               chuse
               this
               better
               part
               .
            
          
           
             
               The
               blessed
               truths
               display'd
               herein
               ,
            
             
               all
               your
               dear
               pleasures
               make
               ;
            
             
               It
               s
               sharp
               rebukes
               of
               every
               sin
               ,
            
             
               as
               healing
               Balsom
               take
               .
            
             
               For
               though
               convictions
               to
               the
               flesh
               ,
            
             
               so
               bitter
               seem
               and
               tart
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               is
               their
               issue
               to
               refresh
               ,
            
             
               and
               heal
               the
               better
               part
               .
            
          
           
             
               Oh!
               then
               upon
               this
               Word
               of
               Truth
               ,
            
             
               place
               high
               and
               great
               esteem
               :
            
             
               This
               point
               of
               Wisdom
               learn
               in
               youth
               ,
            
             
               your
               precious
               time
               redeem
               .
            
             
               To
               know
               Christ's
               from
               a
               strangers
               Voice
               ,
            
             
               account
               the
               highest
               Art
               ;
            
             
               Your
               richest
               treasure
               is
               your
               cho●ce
            
             
               of
               
               Mary's
               better
               part
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             A
             Poetical
             Meditation
             ,
             wherein
             the
             Vsefulness
             ,
             Excellency
             ,
             and
             several
             perfections
             of
             the
             holy
             Scriptures
             are
             briefly
             hinted
             ,
             perform'd
             by
             J.
             C.
             but
             turn'd
             into
             more
             familiar
             verse
             for
             the
             use
             of
             Children
             ,
             by
             Abr.
             Chear
             .
          
           
             
               AMong
               thy
               glorious
               gifts
               ;
            
             
               Lord
               thou
               thy
               Word
               hast
               given
               ,
            
             
               Precious
               and
               pure
               ,
               sweet
               ,
               holy
               ,
               sure
               ,
            
             
               To
               guide
               me
               hence
               to
               heaven
               .
            
          
           
             
               Here
               I
               abound
               with
               straits
               ,
            
             
               Wants
               and
               necessities
               ,
            
             
               There
               I
               have
               store
               ,
               heapt
               ,
               running
               o're
               ,
            
             
               With
               plenteous
               rich
               supplies
               .
            
          
           
             
               Temptations
               here
               abound
               ,
            
             
               With
               terrors
               ,
               dangers
               ,
               fears
               ,
            
             
               These
               petty
               Hels
               thy
               Word
               expels
               ,
            
             
               And
               all
               my
               passage
               clears
               .
            
          
           
             
               When
               Satan
               fiercely
               shoots
               ,
            
             
               His
               fiery
               darts
               at
               me
               ;
            
             
               Then
               Lord
               ,
               they
               Word
               ,
               is
               shield
               and
               Sword
               ,
            
             
               Me
               saves
               and
               makes
               them
               flee
               .
            
          
           
             
               The
               present
               world
               commends
               ,
            
             
               Its
               Objects
               fresh
               and
               fair
               ;
            
             
               But
               yet
               thy
               Word
               doth
               that
               afford
               ,
            
             
               Which
               proves
               more
               precious
               Ware.
               
            
          
           
             
               When
               fleshly
               lusts
               intice
               ,
            
             
               To
               their
               alluring
               pleasure
               ;
            
             
               To
               rare
               delights
               thy
               Word
               invites
               ,
            
             
               More
               choice
               in
               weight
               and
               measure
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               The
               Errors
               of
               the
               Times
               ;
            
             
               Their
               cheating
               Wares
               display
               ;
            
             
               But
               Scripture
               sayes
               ,
               shun
               Errors
               wayes
               .
            
             
               My
               Rule
               shall
               guide
               your
               way
               .
            
          
           
             
               When
               by
               the
               Tempter's
               Wiles
               ,
            
             
               I
               tempted
               am
               to
               sin
               ;
            
             
               By
               thy
               Words
               Art
               ,
               hid
               in
               my
               heart
               ,
            
             
               Both
               field
               and
               Prize
               I
               win
               .
            
          
           
             
               Nay
               though
               I
               foiled
               be
               ,
            
             
               And
               sin
               defile
               my
               Soul
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Word
               can
               cleanse
               these
               noisome
               Dens
               ,
            
             
               And
               sins
               best
               strength
               controul
               .
            
          
           
             
               An
               unbelieving
               heart
               ,
            
             
               Do
               I
               till
               now
               inherit
               :
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               thy
               Word
               hath
               Pow'r
               to
               work
               Faith
               ,
            
             
               By
               thy
               most
               Holy
               Spirit
               .
            
          
           
             
               If
               this
               be
               my
               Disease
               ,
            
             
               An
               hard
               and
               stony
               heart
               ;
            
             
               Thy
               Word
               thus
               deals
               ,
               first
               kills
               ,
               then
               heals
               ,
            
             
               And
               cures
               me
               by
               this
               smart
               .
            
             
               Will
               not
               my
               frozen
               heart
               ,
            
             
               With
               Gospel
               Grace
               comply
               ;
            
             
               Thy
               Royal
               Law
               ,
               this
               heart
               can
               thaw
               ,
            
             
               And
               cause
               a
               weeping
               eye
               .
            
          
           
             
               Doth
               lofty
               towring
               thoughts
               ,
            
             
               Puff
               up
               my
               tempted
               Breast
               ;
            
             
               Thy
               word
               brings
               low
               ,
               the
               proudest
               Foe
               ,
            
             
               Less
               makes
               me
               than
               the
               least
               .
            
          
           
             
               Do
               muttering
               thoughts
               arise
               ,
            
             
               Grudge
               ,
               murmur
               ,
               or
               repine
               ;
            
             
               Thy
               Rod
               and
               Word
               ,
               teach
               patience
               ,
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               And
               still
               these
               thoughts
               of
               mine
               .
            
          
           
             
               Am
               I
               tongue-ty'd
               in
               Prayer
               ,
            
             
               And
               know
               not
               what
               to
               say
               ;
            
             
               Thy
               Word
               inspires
               ,
               praying
               desires
               ,
            
             
               Tell
               's
               how
               and
               what
               to
               Pray
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               When
               like
               a
               lost
               sheep
               I
            
             
               In
               darkness
               err
               and
               stray
               ;
            
             
               Thy
               word
               's
               a
               Light
               ,
               most
               clear
               and
               bright
               ,
            
             
               And
               guides
               me
               in
               my
               way
               .
            
          
           
             
               A
               simple
               fool
               I
               be
               ,
            
             
               And
               destitute
               of
               eyes
               ;
            
             
               Thy
               word
               's
               a
               Rule
               ,
               Master
               and
               School
               ,
            
             
               To
               make
               its
               Schollars
               wise
               .
            
          
           
             
               I
               see
               my self
               undone
               ,
            
             
               Distressed
               ,
               naked
               ,
               poor
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Words
               infold
               a
               Mine
               of
               Gold
               ,
            
             
               Rich
               pearls
               ,
               and
               precious
               store
               .
            
          
           
             
               By
               sinful
               nature
               I
            
             
               And
               God
               are
               still
               at
               odds
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Word
               my
               Soul
               converteth
               whole
               ,
            
             
               From
               Satan's
               Will
               to
               Gods.
               
            
          
           
             
               Do
               troubles
               from
               without
               .
            
             
               And
               floods
               of
               inward
               grief
            
             
               My
               Soul
               torment
               ?
               thy
               Word
               is
               lent
               ,
            
             
               With
               Joy
               and
               Soul
               relief
               .
            
          
           
             
               Or
               ,
               is
               my
               Soul
               perplext
               ,
            
             
               With
               reasonings
               ,
               doubts
               ,
               and
               fears
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Word
               of
               Grace
               ,
               resolves
               the
               case
               ,
            
             
               My
               cloudy
               Judgment
               clears
               .
            
          
           
             
               Or
               ,
               do
               despairing
               thoughts
               ,
            
             
               My
               tempted
               Soul
               o'rtake
               ?
            
             
               Thy
               word
               doth
               give
               ,
               me
               hopes
               to
               live
               ,
            
             
               For
               Christ
               my
               Saviour's
               sake
               .
            
          
           
             
               When
               floods
               and
               multitudes
            
             
               Of
               troubled
               thoughts
               me
               press
               ;
            
             
               I
               call
               to
               mind
               ,
               thy
               word
               ,
               and
               find
               ,
            
             
               Its
               joyes
               my
               Soul
               refresh
               .
            
          
           
             
               Though
               in
               this
               vale
               of
               tears
            
             
               I
               thirst
               ,
               faint
               ,
               hunger
               ,
               Pine
               ;
            
             
               Thy
               word
               me
               feeds
               ,
               in
               these
               my
               ne
            
             
               Its
               Bread
               ,
               and
               Milk
               ,
               and
               Wine
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               Or
               ,
               am
               I
               weakned
               out
               ,
            
             
               And
               cannot
               walk
               alone
               ;
            
             
               Thy
               word
               then
               is
               strength
               to
               my
               knees
               ,
            
             
               And
               staff
               to
               lean
               upon
               .
            
          
           
             
               And
               though
               in
               scorn
               and
               pain
               ,
            
             
               Forsook
               ,
               and
               poor
               I
               be
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               word
               alone
               ,
               hath
               all
               in
               one
               ,
            
             
               Health
               ,
               Wealth
               ,
               Friends
               ,
               all
               to
               me
               ,
            
          
           
             
               Thus
               though
               my
               pained
               Soul
            
             
               Be
               sick
               ,
               and
               wounded
               sore
               ,
            
             
               With
               grievous
               sin
               ,
               which
               doth
               begin
               ,
            
             
               To
               fester
               more
               and
               more
               .
            
          
           
             
               Thy
               word
               directs
               me
               where
               ,
            
             
               My
               healing
               may
               be
               had
               ,
            
             
               And
               doth
               me
               guide
               ,
               to
               Christ's
               pierc'd
               side
               ,
            
             
               For
               Balme
               of
               Gilead
               .
            
          
           
             
               Nay
               ,
               though
               no
               life
               at
               all
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               quickning
               there
               remain
               ;
            
             
               Thy
               word
               is
               good
               ,
               and
               liveing
               Food
               ,
            
             
               Which
               fetcheth
               life
               again
               .
            
          
           
             
               And
               if
               I
               would
               desire
               ,
            
             
               A
               Life
               that
               lasts
               for
               ever
               ;
            
             
               The
               Scripture
               shows
               ,
               whence
               water
               flows
               ,
            
             
               To
               drink
               and
               perish
               never
               .
            
          
           
             
               Blest
               be
               the
               Lord
               my
               God
               ,
            
             
               Who
               evermore
               provides
               ,
            
             
               And
               filleth
               full
               ,
               my
               empty
               Soul
               ,
            
             
               With
               Food
               that
               still
               abides
               .
            
          
           
             
               My
               Soul
               !
               O
               bless
               the
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               Who
               bounteously
               hath
               given
               ,
            
             
               Strength
               ,
               light
               ,
               guide
               ,
               way
               ,
               lest
               thou
               shouldst
               stray
               ,
            
             
               In
               this
               thy
               way
               to
               Heaven
               .
            
          
           
             
               This
               Holy
               Book
               of
               God
               ,
            
             
               These
               Sentences
               ,
               these
               Lines
               ;
            
             
               Each
               Word
               and
               Letter
               ,
               to
               me
               are
               better
               ,
            
             
               Than
               Pearls
               and
               Golden
               Mines
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               'T
               is
               Heaven
               it self
               transcrib'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               Glory
               lively
               pen'd
               ;
            
             
               God's
               truth
               ,
               no
               doubt
               was
               ,
               copied
               out
               ,
            
             
               When
               he
               this
               Gift
               did
               send
               .
            
          
           
             
               It
               's
               Truth
               brought
               forth
               to
               light
               ;
            
             
               God
               did
               hereby
               intend
               ,
            
             
               Man's
               word
               should
               fall
               ,
               Heaven
               ,
               Earth
               ,
               and
               all
               ,
            
             
               But
               this
               should
               never
               end
               .
            
          
           
             
               Dear
               Soul
               ,
               admiring
               stand
               ,
            
             
               At
               that
               blest
               hand
               and
               Quill
               ;
            
             
               That
               did
               produce
               ,
               for
               sinners
               use
               .
            
             
               Th'
               eternal
               Sovereign
               Will.
               
            
          
           
             
               Astonished
               admire
               ,
            
             
               The
               Author
               too
               ;
               and
               when
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               canst
               not
               raise
               ,
               sufficient
               praise
               ,
            
             
               With
               wondring
               say
               ,
               Amen
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             To
             my
             Cousin
             John
             H.
             
          
           
             
               SWeet
               John
               ,
               I
               send
               you
               here
               ,
            
             
               A
               Song
               by
               heart
               to
               learn
               ;
            
             
               Not
               it
               to
               say
               ,
               as
               Parrots
               may
               ,
            
             
               But
               wisely
               to
               discern
               .
            
          
           
             
               Oh!
               lay
               it
               deep
               to
               heart
               ,
            
             
               And
               mind
               it
               well
               I
               pray
               ,
            
             
               God
               grant
               you
               Grace
               ,
               to
               grow
               apace
               ,
            
             
               In
               virtue
               day
               by
               day
               .
            
          
           
             
               As
               yet
               a
               Child
               you
               be
               ,
            
             
               And
               childish
               Toyes
               do
               please
               you
               ;
            
             
               But
               you
               'l
               complain
               ,
               they
               all
               are
               vain
               ,
            
             
               When
               ever
               Grace
               shall
               seize
               you
               .
            
          
           
             
               Nay
               ,
               When
               Convictions
               come
               ,
            
             
               In
               Gospel-Power
               ,
               and
               Truth
               ;
            
             
             
               You
               'l
               surely
               cry
               ,
               Ah
               wretch
               am
               I
               ,
            
             
               Thus
               to
               have
               spent
               my
               youth
               !
            
          
           
             
               Childhood
               and
               Youth
               were
               spent
               ,
            
             
               In
               things
               not
               to
               be
               nam'd
               :
            
             
               Alas
               !
               wha●
               praise
               was
               in
               those
               dayes
               ,
            
             
               Whereof
               I
               'm
               now
               asham'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               Dear
               John
               ,
               then
               lay
               to
               heart
               ,
            
             
               This
               needful
               timely
               hint
               ,
            
             
               Before
               the
               day
               ,
               of
               which
               you
               'l
               say
               ,
            
             
               What
               pleasure
               have
               I
               in
               't
               ?
            
          
           
             
               Begin
               to
               mind
               the
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               Who
               form'd
               you
               out
               of
               dust
               ;
            
             
               And
               did
               you
               raise
               ,
               to
               shew
               his
               praise
               ;
            
             
               Him
               love
               and
               fear
               you
               must
               .
            
          
           
             
               In
               things
               that
               are
               of
               earth
               ,
            
             
               Spend
               not
               your
               youthful
               strength
               ;
            
             
               Its
               joyes
               and
               cares
               ,
               are
               all
               but
               snares
               ,
            
             
               To
               mischief
               you
               at
               length
               .
            
          
           
             
               Where
               Christ
               in
               glory
               sits
               ,
            
             
               Place
               there
               your
               prime
               delight
               ;
            
             
               Let
               things
               above
               have
               all
               your
               love
               ,
            
             
               Your
               time
               ,
               care
               ,
               mind
               and
               might
               .
            
          
           
             
               John
               Christ's
               fore-runner
               mind
               ,
            
             
               From
               whom
               you
               have
               your
               name
               ;
            
             
               Though
               from
               his
               birth
               ,
               liv'd
               mean
               on
               earth
               ,
            
             
               A
               shining
               Light
               became
               .
            
          
           
             
               He
               chose
               a
               Desart
               life
               ,
            
             
               Fed
               hard
               ,
               was
               coorse
               attir'd
               ,
            
             
               He
               left
               the
               sport
               ,
               of
               
               Herod's
               Court
               ,
            
             
               Though
               he
               was
               there
               admir'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               Sin
               he
               reprov'd
               in
               all
               ,
            
             
               And
               kept
               true
               witness
               clear
               :
            
             
               He
               never
               sought
               ,
               himself
               in
               ought
               ,
            
             
               That
               Christ
               might
               more
               appear
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               Another
               John
               you
               find
               ,
            
             
               The
               lov'd
               Disciple
               nam'd
               ;
            
             
               Who
               lean'd
               for
               rest
               ,
               on
               Jesus
               Breast
               ,
            
             
               With
               Gospel-love
               inflam'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               To
               every
               Truth
               of
               Christ
               ,
            
             
               A
               witness
               bold
               he
               bear
               ;
            
             
               Though
               an
               Exile
               ,
               in
               
               Patmos-Isle
               ,
            
             
               Choice
               Visions
               he
               had
               there
               .
            
          
           
             
               A
               Pattern
               if
               they
               be
            
             
               To
               you
               in
               word
               and
               deed
               ;
            
             
               
               Jehovah's
               eye
               ,
               will
               make
               supply
               ,
            
             
               To
               whatsoe're
               you
               need
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             To
             my
             Cousin
             Sam.
             B.
             
          
           
             DEar
             Cousin
             Sam
             ,
             my
             pretty
             Lam
             ,
          
           
             this
             Song
             to
             you
             I
             send
             ;
          
           
             Whatever
             play
             ,
             aside
             you
             lay
             ,
          
           
             learn
             this
             from
             end
             to
             end
             .
          
           
             With
             God
             begin
             ,
             take
             heed
             of
             sin
             ,
          
           
             know
             Jesus
             out
             of
             hand
             .
          
           
             Betimes
             you
             must
             ,
             flee
             youthful
             lust
             ,
          
           
             Its
             first
             assaults
             withstand
             .
          
           
             Spend
             not
             your
             dayes
             ,
             in
             wanton
             playes
             ,
          
           
             Though
             naughty
             boyes
             intice
             :
          
           
             They
             first
             begin
             ,
             with
             little
             sin
             ,
          
           
             but
             end
             in
             deadly
             vice
             .
          
           
             If
             naughty
             Boyes
             ,
             allure
             with
             Toyes
             ,
          
           
             to
             sin
             ,
             or
             lies
             to
             tell
             ;
          
           
             Then
             tell
             them
             plain
             ,
             you
             tempt
             in
             vain
             ,
          
           
             such
             wayes
             go
             down
             to
             Hell.
          
           
             God's
             holy
             Eye
             ,
             our
             faults
             do
             spy
             ,
          
           
             and
             will
             to
             Judgment
             call
             us
             ,
          
           
             We
             must
             fear
             God
             ,
             more
             than
             the
             Rod
             ,
          
           
             or
             ought
             that
             can
             befall
             us
             .
          
           
           
             How
             oft
             have
             I
             ,
             been
             like
             to
             die
             ?
          
           
             yea
             Death
             is
             alwayes
             near
             :
          
           
             Chuse
             whom
             you
             will
             ,
             to
             follow
             still
             ,
          
           
             I
             Christ
             must
             love
             and
             fear
             ;
          
           
             Fathers
             best
             Boy
             ,
             and
             Mothers
             joy
             ,
          
           
             I
             then
             shall
             surely
             be
             ;
          
           
             And
             that
             that
             's
             best
             ,
             of
             all
             the
             rest
             ,
          
           
             God
             will
             provide
             for
             me
             .
          
        
         
           
             To
             my
             Cousin
             W.
             L.
             
          
           
             DEar
             Child
             ,
             although
             my
             Father's
             Will
          
           
             in
             Prison
             me
             hath
             bound
             ;
          
           
             Through
             uprightness
             ,
             and
             patience
             still
             ,
          
           
             my
             comforts
             here
             are
             found
             .
          
           
             The
             presence
             of
             a
             gracious
             God
             ,
          
           
             doth
             this
             a
             Pallace
             make
             ;
          
           
             It
             makes
             the
             bitter
             of
             the
             Rod
             ,
          
           
             be
             sweet
             for
             Jesus
             sake
             .
          
           
             But
             Oh!
             when
             guilt
             brings
             any
             here
             ,
          
           
             in
             Fetters
             to
             be
             bound
             ;
          
           
             Because
             of
             God
             they
             had
             no
             fear
             ,
          
           
             but
             were
             in
             evil
             found
             :
          
           
             To
             such
             it
             is
             a
             dreadful
             place
             ,
          
           
             here
             guilt
             to
             judgment
             binds
             them
             ;
          
           
             Where
             if
             they
             don't
             repent
             apace
             ,
          
           
             Death
             ,
             Wrath
             ,
             and
             Vengeance
             finds
             them
             .
          
           
             Of
             you
             ,
             dear
             Child
             ,
             with
             carefulness
             ,
          
           
             my
             heart
             hath
             many
             a
             thought
             ;
          
           
             Least
             you
             through
             youthful
             wantonness
             ,
          
           
             to
             greater
             sins
             be
             brought
             :
          
           
             And
             so
             by
             adding
             sin
             to
             sin
             ,
          
           
             you
             wast
             your
             time
             and
             strength
             ;
          
           
             And
             when
             your
             judgment
             doth
             begin
             ,
          
           
             in
             vain
             you
             mourn
             at
             length
             .
          
           
           
             I
             charge
             you
             then
             ,
             in
             any
             sort
             ,
          
           
             your
             great
             Creator
             mind
             ;
          
           
             Spend
             not
             your
             youthful
             dayes
             in
             sport
             ,
          
           
             that
             cannot
             be
             regain'd
             .
          
           
             Avoid
             those
             rude
             and
             wicked
             Boyes
             ,
          
           
             that
             make
             a
             mock
             of
             sin
             ;
          
           
             Love
             not
             their
             playes
             ,
             and
             sinful
             Toyes
             ,
          
           
             to
             fear
             the
             Lord
             begin
             .
          
           
             Keep
             close
             to
             School
             ,
             read
             Scriptures
             oft
             ,
          
           
             in
             private
             learn
             to
             pray
             ;
          
           
             Your
             Gospel-grounds
             keep
             still
             in
             thought
             ,
          
           
             Your
             Parents
             both
             obey
             .
          
           
             Your
             Brethren
             love
             ,
             and
             teach
             them
             good
             ,
          
           
             a
             Christian
             learn
             to
             be
             ;
          
           
             Then
             God
             will
             give
             you
             clothes
             and
             food
             ,
          
           
             and
             you
             'l
             be
             dear
             to
             me
             .
          
        
         
           
             To
             my
             Kinsman
             A.
             L.
             
          
           
             MY
             pretty
             Child
             ,
             remember
             well
             ,
          
           
             you
             must
             your
             wayes
             amend
             ;
          
           
             For
             wicked
             Children
             go
             to
             Hell
             ,
          
           
             that
             way
             their
             courses
             tend
             .
          
           
             But
             heark
             to
             me
             ,
             if
             you
             to
             be
             ,
          
           
             the
             Child
             of
             God
             desire
             ;
          
           
             The
             broad
             and
             open
             road
             must
             flee
             ,
          
           
             which
             multitudes
             admire
             .
          
           
             S●rive
             every
             day
             to
             mend
             you
             way
             ,
          
           
             learn
             Christ
             while
             you
             are
             young
             ;
          
           
             Take
             constant
             heed
             ,
             to
             every
             deed
             ,
          
           
             heart
             ,
             feet
             ,
             hands
             and
             tongue
             .
          
           
             You
             may
             be
             quickly
             sick
             ,
             and
             die
             ,
          
           
             and
             put
             into
             the
             Grave
             ;
          
           
             From
             whence
             to
             judgment
             you
             must
             fly
             ,
          
           
             and
             righteous
             Sentence
             have
             .
          
           
             Learn
             then
             to
             fear
             ,
             while
             you
             live
             here
             ,
          
           
             with
             Christ
             your
             time
             imploy
             .
          
           
           
             Labour
             to
             live
             and
             die
             as
             one
             ,
          
           
             that
             leaves
             the
             World
             with
             joy
             .
          
           
             My
             strength
             in
             cries
             I
             shall
             imploy
             ,
          
           
             that
             God
             will
             bless
             your
             youth
             ;
          
           
             I
             can
             have
             nothing
             like
             this
             joy
             ,
          
           
             My
             Children
             walk
             in
             truth
             .
          
        
         
           
             To
             my
             youngest
             Kinsman
             R.
             L.
             
          
           
             MY
             little
             Cousin
             if
             you
             'l
             be
             ,
          
           
             your
             Uncles
             dearest
             Boy
             ;
          
           
             You
             must
             take
             heed
             of
             every
             deed
             ,
          
           
             that
             would
             your
             Soul
             destroy
             .
          
           
             You
             must
             not
             curse
             ,
             nor
             fight
             ,
             nor
             steal
             ,
          
           
             nor
             spend
             your
             time
             in
             games
             ,
          
           
             Nor
             make
             a
             lie
             ,
             what
             e're
             you
             aile
             ;
          
           
             nor
             call
             ungodly
             names
             .
          
           
             With
             wicked
             Children
             do
             not
             play
             ,
          
           
             for
             such
             to
             Hell
             will
             go
             ;
          
           
             The
             Devils
             Children
             sin
             all
             day
             ,
          
           
             but
             you
             must
             not
             do
             so
             .
          
           
             Begin
             ,
             I
             pray
             ,
             to
             learn
             that
             way
             ,
          
           
             that
             doth
             to
             Heaven
             tend
             :
          
           
             O
             learn
             a
             little
             ,
             day
             by
             day
             ,
          
           
             which
             leadeth
             to
             that
             end
             .
          
           
             For
             God
             and
             good
             men
             love
             such
             Boyes
             ,
          
           
             and
             will
             them
             good
             things
             give
             ;
          
           
             Father
             and
             Mother
             will
             rejoyce
             ,
          
           
             and
             I
             in
             comfort
             live
             .
          
        
         
           
           
             Another
             to
             a
             Child
             insisting
             on
             Psal
             .
             119.
             9.
             
          
           
             
               SInce
               I
               am
               naturally
               bent
               ,
            
             
               to
               take
               delight
               in
               Songs
               ;
            
             
               A
               Friend
               from
               Prison
               one
               hath
               sent
               ,
            
             
               that
               to
               my
               Soul
               belongs
               :
            
             
               Which
               when
               I
               sing
               ,
               he
               doth
               intreat
               ,
            
             
               I
               would
               not
               mind
               my
               play
               ,
            
             
               But
               frequently
               with
               weight
               repeat
               ,
            
             
               How
               may
               I
               cleanse
               my
               way
               ?
            
          
           
             
               It
               is
               the
               use
               of
               such
               as
               I
               ,
            
             
               to
               Dance
               ,
               and
               Play
               ,
               and
               sing
               ;
            
             
               Or
               else
               to
               lie
               ,
               and
               rail
               ,
               and
               cry
               ,
            
             
               for
               will
               in
               every
               thing
               ,
            
             
               Why
               should
               our
               wantonness
               be
               crost
               ,
            
             
               or
               pleasures
               night
               and
               day
               ?
            
             
               We
               fear
               no
               danger
               to
               be
               loft
               ;
            
             
               what
               need
               we
               cleanse
               our
               way
               ?
            
          
           
             
               Should
               we
               our
               jovial
               play-mates
               shun
               ,
            
             
               when
               we
               return
               from
               Schools
               ;
            
             
               Should
               we
               not
               fight
               ,
               and
               climb
               ,
               and
               run
               ,
            
             
               we
               should
               be
               counted
               fools
               .
            
             
               If
               in
               the
               Hedges
               ,
               Streets
               ,
               and
               Field
               ,
            
             
               our
               sports
               you
               take
               away
               ;
            
             
               What
               good
               will
               food
               and
               raiment
               yield
               ?
            
             
               why
               should
               we
               change
               our
               way
               ?
            
          
           
             
               When
               up
               to
               youth
               and
               strength
               we
               grow
               ,
            
             
               't
               is
               brave
               to
               have
               our
               wills
               ;
            
             
               To
               heed
               no
               Check
               whate're
               we
               do
               ,
            
             
               of
               lust
               to
               take
               our
               fills
               :
            
             
               To
               fight
               ,
               drink
               ,
               game
               ,
               to
               swear
               and
               curse
               ,
            
             
               to
               lie
               out
               night
               and
               day
               ;
            
             
             
               To
               spend
               and
               whore
               ,
               grow
               worse
               and
               worse
               ,
            
             
               what
               youth
               will
               cleanse
               his
               way
               ?
            
          
           
             
               'T
               is
               true
               ,
               the
               Holy
               Scriptures
               teach
               ,
            
             
               our
               Catechisms
               tell
               ;
            
             
               Some
               Ministers
               we
               hear
               do
               preach
               .
            
             
               Youths
               must
               take
               heed
               of
               Hell.
            
             
               Our
               Parents
               at
               our
               wildness
               grieve
               ,
            
             
               exhort
               ,
               reprove
               and
               pray
               ,
            
             
               But
               after
               all
               ,
               we
               scarce
               believe
               ,
            
             
               we
               need
               to
               cleanse
               our
               way
               .
            
          
           
             
               We
               see
               some
               that
               were
               thought
               the
               best
               ,
            
             
               their
               high
               profession
               leaving
               ;
            
             
               And
               greedily
               ,
               as
               do
               the
               rest
               ,
            
             
               to
               earth
               and
               Pleasure
               cleaving
               .
            
             
               No
               Check
               of
               Conscience
               doth
               appear
               ,
            
             
               in
               what
               they
               do
               or
               say
               ;
            
             
               This
               greatly
               hardens
               us
               from
               fear
               ,
            
             
               or
               thoughts
               to
               cleanse
               our
               way
               .
            
          
           
             
               With
               Cart-ropes
               to
               draw
               youthful
               lust
               ,
            
             
               this
               day
               all
               help
               affords
               ;
            
             
               It
               is
               a
               sport
               ,
               Christ's
               bonds
               to
               burst
               .
            
             
               and
               cast
               away
               his
               Cords
               ,
            
             
               If
               one
               from
               wickedness
               dissent
               ,
            
             
               he
               makes
               himself
               a
               prey
               ;
            
             
               This
               yields
               but
               small
               encouragement
               ,
            
             
               for
               youth
               to
               cleanse
               his
               way
               .
            
          
           
             
               As
               the
               young
               Ass
               that
               snuffs
               the
               wind
               ,
            
             
               Youth
               loves
               to
               have
               its
               swinge
               ;
            
             
               But
               hates
               attempts
               ,
               its
               lust
               to
               bind
               ,
            
             
               or
               liberty
               infringe
               .
            
             
               Yet
               ther
               's
               a
               month
               ,
               in
               which
               the
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               our
               full
               career
               can
               stay
               ;
            
             
               And
               can
               ,
               according
               to
               his
               Word
               .
            
             
               turn
               ,
               change
               ,
               and
               cleanse
               our
               way
               .
            
          
           
             
               No
               less
               then
               an
               Almighty
               Power
               ,
            
             
               such
               torrents
               can
               withstand
               ,
            
             
               The
               influences
               of
               this
               hour
               ,
            
             
               tempt
               with
               so
               high
               a
               hand
               ,
            
             
             
               Amongst
               a
               thousand
               ,
               scarce
               one
               Lad
               ,
            
             
               (
               with
               weepings
               we
               may
               say
               )
            
             
               Of
               whom
               assurance
               may
               be
               had
               ,
            
             
               he
               strives
               to
               cleanse
               his
               way
               .
            
          
           
             
               Oh!
               with
               what
               grief
               upon
               their
               wayes
               ,
            
             
               should
               Parents
               then
               reflect
               ;
            
             
               Whose
               fawning
               in
               our
               infant
               dayes
               ,
            
             
               doth
               Word
               and
               Rod
               neglect
               ;
            
             
               Till
               our
               incorrigible
               years
               ,
            
             
               are
               apt
               by
               deeds
               to
               say
               ,
            
             
               Although
               you
               break
               your
               heart
               with
               tears
               ,
            
             
               we
               will
               not
               cleanse
               our
               way
               .
            
          
           
             
               Were
               our
               Salvation
               their
               design
               ,
            
             
               our
               Souls
               their
               highest
               care
               ;
            
             
               They
               would
               be
               careful
               to
               decline
               ,
            
             
               all
               steps
               that
               might
               ensnare
               ,
            
             
               What
               holy
               walks
               ,
               before
               our
               sight
               .
            
             
               as
               patterns
               should
               they
               lay
               ;
            
             
               Which
               might
               endear
               us
               with
               delight
               ,
            
             
               betimes
               to
               cleanse
               our
               way
               ?
            
          
           
             
               Above
               deep
               learning
               ,
               breeding
               ,
               wit
               ,
            
             
               they
               for
               us
               grace
               would
               prize
               ;
            
             
               Rich
               Trades
               ,
               or
               stocks
               ,
               compar'd
               with
               it
               ,
            
             
               were
               dung
               before
               their
               eyes
               .
            
             
               The
               greatest
               Matches
               they
               could
               find
               ,
            
             
               with
               heaps
               of
               yellow
               Clay
               ;
            
             
               Were
               no
               Preferment
               to
               their
               mind
               ,
            
             
               like
               to
               a
               cleansed
               way
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             To
             a
             Virgin
             inclining
             to
             enquire
             after
             the
             Lord.
             
          
           
             A
             Soliloquie
             .
          
           
             
               COme
               pray
               thee
               ,
               Precious
               Soul
               of
               mine
               ,
            
             
               let
               's
               seriously
               retire
               ;
            
             
             
               And
               under
               eye
               and
               aid
               Divine
               ,
            
             
               God's
               Oracles
               enquire
               .
            
             
               Call
               in
               those
               thoughts
               that
               range
               about
               ,
            
             
               with
               awfulness
               incline
               ,
            
             
               To
               get
               this
               question
               out
               of
               doubt
               ,
            
             
               Is
               Jesus
               truly
               mine
               ?
            
          
           
             
               It
               's
               high
               time
               now
               to
               fix
               our
               thought
               ,
            
             
               O
               let
               time
               past
               suffice
               ,
            
             
               That
               we
               the
               lusts
               of
               flesh
               have
               wrought
               ,
            
             
               in
               youthful
               vanities
               .
            
             
               What
               profit
               in
               those
               wayes
               is
               sound
               ,
            
             
               which
               down
               to
               Hell
               incline
               ;
            
             
               What
               real
               pleasure
               can
               redound
               ,
            
             
               if
               Christ
               be
               none
               of
               mine
               ?
            
          
           
             
               'T
               is
               true
               ,
               a
               Maid
               can
               scarce
               forget
               ,
            
             
               her
               ornamental
               tire
               ;
            
             
               The
               Virgins
               her
               at
               nought
               will
               set
               ,
            
             
               whose
               eye
               is
               fixed
               higher
               .
            
             
               But
               should
               I
               my
               bright
               morning
               wast
               ,
            
             
               to
               make
               me
               〈◊〉
               and
               fine
               ;
            
             
               'T
               will
               be
               but
               bitterness
               at
               last
               ,
            
             
               if
               Christ
               be
               none
               of
               mine
               ?
            
          
           
             
               With
               Dinah
               should
               I
               gad
               to
               see
               ,
            
             
               the
               Daughters
               of
               the
               Land
               ;
            
             
               My
               intimates
               ,
               if
               such
               should
               be
               ,
            
             
               who
               Christ
               don't
               understand
               :
            
             
               My
               complements
               ,
               and
               ga●e
               might
               I
               ,
            
             
               as
               is
               the
               mode
               ,
               refin'd
               ;
            
             
               But
               wretched
               should
               I
               live
               and
               die
               .
            
             
               if
               Christ
               be
               none
               of
               mine
               .
            
          
           
             
               Or
               if
               through
               deep
               convictions
               I
               ,
            
             
               my
               vain
               companions
               leave
               ;
            
             
               And
               to
               the
               Saints
               ,
               for
               company
               ,
            
             
               in
               dear
               affections
               cleave
               .
            
             
               Though
               they
               as
               Angels
               speak
               to
               me
               ,
            
             
               sweet
               words
               as
               spiced
               Wine
               ;
            
             
               Of
               what
               advantage
               could
               it
               be
               ,
            
             
               if
               Christ
               be
               none
               of
               mine
               ?
            
             
             
               Of
               his
               inestimable
               worth
               .
            
             
               if
               I
               by
               Saints
               am
               told
               ;
            
             
               Or
               how
               the
               Gospel
               sets
               him
               forth
               ,
            
             
               transcending
               heaps
               of
               Gold
               :
            
             
               Though
               one
               among
               a
               thousand
               he
               ,
            
             
               in
               full
               perfection
               shine
               ;
            
             
               What
               will
               this
               Glory
               be
               to
               me
               ,
            
             
               if
               Christ
               be
               none
               of
               mine
               ;
            
          
           
             
               If
               by
               reforming
               I
               essay
               ,
            
             
               self
               righteousness
               should
               stand
               ;
            
             
               I
               may
               conjecture
               I
               obey
               ,
            
             
               the
               Law
               's
               exact
               command
               .
            
             
               Nay
               ,
               to
               the
               Gospel's
               outward
               call
               ,
            
             
               my
               steps
               I
               may
               refine
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               short
               of
               glory
               I
               shall
               fall
               ,
            
             
               If
               Christ
               be
               none
               of
               mine
               ?
            
          
           
             
               How
               Satan
               acts
               an
               Angel's
               part
               ,
            
             
               I
               cannot
               well
               discern
               ;
            
             
               The
               windings
               of
               a
               treacherous
               heart
               ,
            
             
               I
               cannot
               quickly
               learn
               ;
            
             
               How
               close
               hypocrisie
               in
               all
               ,
            
             
               may
               hide
               it's
               deep
               design
               ;
            
             
               The
               stateliest
               Structure
               then
               must
               fall
               ,
            
             
               if
               Christ
               be
               none
               of
               mine
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Of
             a
             Child
             somewhat
             indulged
             by
             reason
             of
             Sickliness
             .
          
           
             IF
             any
             would
             my
             Age
             be
             told
             ,
          
           
             this
             answer
             they
             may
             have
             ;
          
           
             A
             weakly
             Child
             of
             ten
             years
             old
             ,
          
           
             oft
             very
             near
             the
             Grave
             .
          
           
             My
             Life
             's
             a
             wonder
             to
             my
             Friends
             ,
          
           
             continued
             to
             this
             day
             ;
          
           
             And
             doubtless
             is
             for
             higher
             ends
             ,
          
           
             then
             eat
             ,
             and
             drink
             ,
             and
             play
             .
          
           
           
             To
             these
             things
             Childhood
             is
             inclin'd
             ,
          
           
             yea
             to
             great
             evils
             bending
             ;
          
           
             And
             little
             doth
             it
             heed
             or
             mind
             ,
          
           
             to
             what
             such
             wayes
             are
             tending
             .
          
           
             If
             Parents
             give
             us
             our
             contents
             ,
          
           
             and
             take
             delight
             to
             please
             us
             ;
          
           
             We
             little
             lay
             to
             heart
             events
             ,
          
           
             though
             dreadful
             Plagues
             should
             seize
             us
             ▪
          
           
             Some
             Parents
             in
             this
             sinful
             Age
             ,
          
           
             will
             no
             wayes
             cross
             our
             course
             ;
          
           
             Whilest
             other
             's
             filthy
             rayling
             rage
             ;
          
           
             to
             desperate
             wayes
             enforce
             .
          
           
             But
             did
             the
             love
             and
             fear
             of
             God
             ,
          
           
             in
             Parents
             hearts
             bear
             sway
             ,
          
           
             And
             were
             the
             doctrine
             of
             the
             Rod
             ,
          
           
             their
             study
             day
             by
             day
             .
          
           
             Were
             their
             and
             our
             iniquities
             ,
          
           
             more
             deeply
             laid
             to
             heart
             ;
          
           
             Did
             love
             to
             our
             immortal
             Souls
             ,
          
           
             of
             fondness
             get
             the
             start
             ,
          
           
             They
             'd
             learn
             ,
             with
             gravity
             ,
             to
             smile
             ,
          
           
             and
             tenderness
             to
             smile
             ;
          
           
             Correct
             and
             pitty
             all
             the
             while
             ,
          
           
             rebuke
             ,
             and
             yet
             delight
             .
          
           
             Chastisements
             would
             with
             teaching
             meet
             ;
          
           
             reproofs
             be
             sharp
             ,
             yet
             mild
             ;
          
           
             God's
             admonition
             would
             be
             sweet
             ,
          
           
             and
             wholsome
             to
             the
             Child
             .
          
           
             We
             should
             grow
             flexible
             and
             kind
             ,
          
           
             great
             guilt
             it
             would
             prevent
             ;
          
           
             This
             early
             with
             a
             willing
             mind
             ,
          
           
             would
             lead
             us
             to
             repent
             .
          
           
             It
             would
             seem
             bitter
             to
             the
             flesh
             ,
          
           
             to
             travel
             thus
             again
             ;
          
           
             But
             Ah!
             the
             forming
             Christ
             afresh
             ,
          
           
             will
             pay
             for
             all
             this
             pain
             .
          
        
         
           
           
             A
             Dialogue
             betwixt
             the
             love
             of
             Christ
             and
             the
             lust
             of
             the
             flesh
             ;
          
           
             written
             by
             the
             said
             Ab.
             Chear
             ,
          
           
             
               setting
               forth
               the
               deceitful
               nature
               of
               sin
               ,
               in
               its
               alluring
               the
               Soul
               from
               goodness
               ,
               to
               its
               ruine
               and
               destruction
               ;
               and
               the
               powerful
               influence
               of
               Christ's
               love
               ,
               engaging
               to
               an
               early
               imbracing
               his
               invitations
               to
               a
               well-grounded
               hope
               of
               Everlasting
               Glory
               .
            
          
           
             
               It
               s
               Prologue
               .
            
             
               
                 Respected
                 Friend
                 ,
              
            
             
               I
               am
               obliged
               to
               tell
               you
               what
               's
               a
               doing
               ;
            
             
               There
               are
               at
               hand
               to
               you
               design'd
               for
               woing
               ,
            
             
               Two
               fair-spoke-Suitors
               ,
               both
               look
               fair
               and
               fresh
               ,
            
             
               The
               love
               of
               Jesus
               and
               the
               lust
               of
               Flesh
               .
            
             
               They
               are
               Corrivals
               ,
               each
               Proposals
               brings
               ,
            
             
               As
               if
               the
               Heirs
               apparent
               of
               some
               Kings
               ,
            
             
               Had
               terms
               to
               tender
               to
               engage
               your
               favour
            
             
               Of
               such
               vast
               interests
               ,
               their
               offers
               savour
               .
            
             
               Hear
               now
               ,
               and
               well
               observe
               a
               stander-by
               ,
            
             
               Who
               long
               hath
               known
               how
               their
               concerns
               do
               lie
               ,
            
             
               And
               who
               by
               dear
               experience
               hath
               been
               taught
               ,
            
             
               To
               what
               result
               such
               suits
               are
               often
               brought
               :
            
             
               If
               from
               his
               great
               desire
               you
               be
               blest
               ,
            
             
               And
               in
               your
               choice
               reach
               everlasting
               rest
               .
            
             
               He
               offers
               dear-bought
               light
               to
               guide
               your
               mind
            
             
               That
               to
               the
               better
               part
               it
               be
               inclin'd
               ;
            
             
               He
               shews
               a
               little
               ,
               in
               a
               homespun
               stile
               ,
            
             
               The
               one's
               simplicity
               the
               other's
               Guile
               .
            
             
               What
               stocks
               they
               come
               of
               ,
               and
               their
               old
               descents
               ;
            
             
               Their
               various
               treasures
               ,
               and
               their
               plain
               intents
               ,
            
             
             
               What
               are
               their
               qualities
               ,
               their
               differing
               ends
               ;
            
             
               To
               what
               plain
               issue
               each
               proposal
               tends
               .
            
             
               Their
               sundry
               overtures
               your
               love
               to
               gain
               ,
            
             
               In
               way
               of
               Dialogue
               betwixt
               them
               twain
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 The
                 love
                 of
                 Christ
                 .
              
               
                 SWeet
                 Virgin
                 stop
                 ,
                 let
                 Wisdom
                 drop
                 ,
              
               
                 a
                 word
                 becoming
                 Kings
                 :
              
               
                 Pray
                 be
                 inclin'd
                 to
                 bend
                 your
                 mind
                 ,
              
               
                 unto
                 coelestial
                 things
                 .
              
               
                 I
                 beg
                 your
                 love
                 ,
                 for
                 things
                 Above
                 ;
              
               
                 nay
                 ,
                 all
                 your
                 Powers
                 I
                 claime
                 :
              
               
                 I
                 would
                 adorn
                 ,
                 your
                 youthful
                 morn
                 ,
              
               
                 and
                 crown
                 your
                 early
                 aime
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 lust
                 of
                 the
                 flesh
                 .
              
               
                 Should
                 any
                 thought
                 to
                 mind
                 be
                 brought
                 ,
              
               
                 that
                 interrupts
                 your
                 quiet
                 :
              
               
                 Shall
                 Virgins
                 weep
                 ,
                 disturb
                 their
                 sleep
                 ,
              
               
                 desert
                 their
                 needful
                 diet
                 ?
              
               
                 Tush
                 ;
                 drink
                 in
                 Plate
                 ,
                 and
                 recreate
                 ,
              
               
                 your
                 lively
                 youthful
                 Spirit
                 ,
              
               
                 Seek
                 Courtly
                 things
                 delight
                 in
                 Kings
                 ,
              
               
                 which
                 may
                 proclaim
                 your
                 merit
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 love
                 of
                 Christ
                 .
              
               
                 While
                 Flesh
                 pretends
                 ,
                 these
                 pleasing
                 ends
                 ,
              
               
                 its
                 dire
                 intents
                 it
                 hides
                 :
              
               
                 But
                 pray
                 awake
                 ,
                 for
                 Jesus
                 sake
                 ,
              
               
                 while
                 day
                 of
                 Grace
                 abides
                 .
              
               
                 Flesh
                 lusts
                 its
                 Guests
                 ,
                 between
                 its
                 Breasts
                 ,
              
               
                 convictions
                 to
                 expel
                 ;
              
               
                 But
                 deadly
                 Charms
                 ,
                 are
                 in
                 its
                 armes
                 ;
              
               
                 its
                 Guests
                 are
                 lodg'd
                 in
                 Hell.
                 
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Lusts
                 of
                 the
                 flesh
                 .
              
               
                 What
                 strange
                 conceits
                 ,
                 what
                 silly
                 cheats
                 ,
              
               
                 would
                 drive
                 thy
                 joys
                 away
                 ?
              
               
                 These
                 Preachers
                 tell
                 ,
                 but
                 dreams
                 of
                 Hell.
              
               
                 and
                 of
                 the
                 Judgment
                 day
                 .
              
               
               
                 'T
                 wil
                 ne'r
                 do
                 well
                 ,
                 till
                 mirth
                 expel
                 ,
              
               
                 such
                 sullen
                 dumps
                 as
                 these
                 :
              
               
                 The
                 Timbrel
                 bring
                 ,
                 come
                 dance
                 and
                 sing
                 ;
              
               
                 eat
                 ,
                 drink
                 ,
                 and
                 take
                 thine
                 ease
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Love
                 of
                 Christ
                 .
              
               
                 These
                 Childish
                 Toys
                 ,
                 may
                 make
                 a
                 noise
                 ,
              
               
                 to
                 please
                 the
                 carnal
                 heart
                 ;
              
               
                 But
                 all
                 the
                 while
                 ,
                 they
                 but
                 beguile
                 ,
              
               
                 nay
                 wound
                 the
                 better
                 part
                 ,
              
               
                 One
                 glimps
                 of
                 love
                 ,
                 seal'd
                 from
                 above
                 ,
              
               
                 these
                 highest
                 joyes
                 transcends
                 ;
              
               
                 From
                 deeps
                 't
                 will
                 raise
                 ,
                 to
                 heights
                 of
                 praise
                 ,
              
               
                 when
                 that
                 in
                 torment
                 ends
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Lust
                 of
                 the
                 flesh
                 .
              
               
                 Shall
                 wordy
                 winds
                 ,
                 on
                 gallant
                 minds
                 ,
              
               
                 such
                 deep
                 impressions
                 make
                 ;
              
               
                 That
                 for
                 a
                 ●ound
                 ,
                 of
                 things
                 unfound
                 ,
              
               
                 they
                 joys
                 in
                 Hand
                 forsake
                 ?
              
               
                 This
                 day
                 invites
                 ,
                 to
                 rare
                 delights
                 ,
              
               
                 all
                 Ladies
                 who
                 design
                 ,
              
               
                 T
                 o've
                 fortunes
                 rais'd
                 ,
                 and
                 beauties
                 prais'd
                 ,
              
               
                 embrace
                 thess
                 paths
                 of
                 mine
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Love
                 of
                 Christ
                 .
              
               
                 Alas
                 at
                 length
                 ,
                 you
                 'l
                 lose
                 your
                 strength
                 ,
              
               
                 mirth
                 ,
                 beauty
                 ,
                 sport
                 ,
                 and
                 pleasure
                 ;
              
               
                 And
                 when
                 too
                 late
                 ,
                 lament
                 your
                 state
                 ,
              
               
                 your
                 mispent
                 time
                 and
                 treasure
                 ,
              
               
                 They
                 'l
                 take
                 them
                 wings
                 ,
                 and
                 leave
                 you
                 stings
                 ,
              
               
                 with
                 venom
                 ,
                 guilt
                 ,
                 and
                 smart
                 ;
              
               
                 Then
                 while
                 't
                 is
                 day
                 ,
                 I
                 humbly
                 pray
                 ,
              
               
                 chuse
                 
                 Mary's
                 better
                 part
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Lust
                 of
                 the
                 flesh
                 .
              
               
                 Are
                 such
                 things
                 fit
                 ,
                 that
                 clogs
                 your
                 wit
                 ,
              
               
                 which
                 now
                 to
                 heights
                 aspires
                 ?
              
               
                 Such
                 doatings
                 leave
                 ,
                 till
                 age
                 bereave
                 ,
              
               
                 of
                 moisture
                 ,
                 warm
                 desires
                 ▪
              
               
               
                 Your
                 budding
                 Spring
                 ,
                 prompts
                 you
                 to
                 sing
                 ,
              
               
                 your
                 warbling
                 Princely
                 straine
                 ;
              
               
                 In
                 Courtly
                 Modes
                 ,
                 with
                 amourous
                 odes
              
               
                 your
                 Gallants
                 entertain
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Love
                 of
                 Christ
                 .
              
               
                 Such
                 frothy
                 freaks
                 ,
                 aloud
                 bespeaks
                 ,
              
               
                 how
                 slightly
                 youths
                 esteem
              
               
                 Their
                 nobler
                 parts
                 ,
                 their
                 precious
                 hearts
                 ,
              
               
                 which
                 Earth
                 cannot
                 redeem
                 .
              
               
                 How
                 hardly
                 brought
                 ,
                 to
                 turn
                 a
                 thought
                 ,
              
               
                 from
                 Objects
                 thus
                 deprav'd
                 ;
              
               
                 Though
                 Jesus
                 cries
                 ,
                 Oh!
                 fix
                 your
                 eyes
              
               
                 on
                 me
                 ,
                 and
                 be
                 ye
                 sav'd
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Lust
                 of
                 the
                 flesh
                 .
              
               
                 Such
                 looks
                 may
                 grace
                 ,
                 some
                 wither'd
                 face
                 ,
              
               
                 or
                 some
                 grave
                 Cloystered
                 Nun
                 ;
              
               
                 Are
                 counted
                 blots
                 ,
                 not
                 beauty-spots
                 ,
              
               
                 where
                 Fame
                 's
                 but
                 now
                 begun
                 .
              
               
                 Tush
                 ;
                 rather
                 prize
                 those
                 Comedies
                 ,
              
               
                 and
                 rare
                 Romances
                 use
                 ;
              
               
                 Attend
                 resorts
                 ,
                 to
                 Princely
                 sports
                 ,
              
               
                 and
                 shades
                 for
                 interviews
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 Love
                 of
                 Christ
                 .
              
               
                 What
                 pitty
                 't
                 is
                 such
                 trash
                 as
                 this
                 ,
              
               
                 with
                 heaven-born
                 Souls
                 should
                 take
                 ;
              
               
                 While
                 Jesus
                 stands
                 with
                 stretch'd
                 out
                 hands
                 ,
              
               
                 rich
                 overtures
                 to
                 make
                 .
              
               
                 Gold
                 try'd
                 in
                 Fire
                 ,
                 and
                 rich
                 attire
                 ,
              
               
                 do
                 your
                 acceptance
                 crave
                 ;
              
               
                 A
                 crown
                 of
                 Bliss
                 ,
                 prepared
                 is
                 ,
              
               
                 when
                 each
                 an
                 end
                 shall
                 have
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 The
                 treaty
                 stops
                 ,
                 but
                 here
                 you
                 have
                 a
                 tast
              
               
                 your
                 friend
                 hath
                 longings
                 that
                 you
                 may
                 be
                 Chast
                 ,
              
               
                 Preserv'd
                 a
                 Virgin
                 ,
                 and
                 brought
                 such
                 to
                 Christ
              
               
                 By
                 love
                 constrained
                 ,
                 not
                 by
                 lust
                 intic't
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
           
             A
             Description
             of
             an
             Elect
             Person
             ,
             in
             his
             threefold
             state
             ,
             by
             Nature
             ,
             Grace
             ,
             and
             Glory
             ;
          
           
             Collected
             by
             Va.
             Powel
             ,
             in
             the
             close
             of
             his
             Catechism
             ;
             translated
             into
             familiar
             Verse
             ,
             for
             Childrens
             better
             remembrance
             ,
             by
             A.
             Chear
             .
          
           
             
               Ejaculation
               .
            
             
               My
               blessed
               Father
               ,
               when
               my
               heart
               enclines
               ,
            
             
               To
               sing
               this
               Song
               ,
               or
               but
               to
               read
               these
               lines
               ,
            
             
               Let
               me
               thy
               Spirits
               Power
               ,
               or
               leadings
               find
               ,
            
             
               To
               form
               their
               lively
               likeness
               on
               my
               mind
               .
            
             
               Work
               deep
               convictions
               ,
               and
               an
               holy
               fear
               ,
            
             
               To
               think
               what
               am
               I
               ,
               or
               what
               once
               I
               were
               .
            
             
               And
               into
               fellowship
               ,
               Lord
               let
               it
               guide
               me
               ,
            
             
               With
               all
               this
               Grace
               the
               Gospel
               doth
               provide
               me
               ,
            
             
               That
               I
               may
               claim
               what
               this
               thy
               record
               saith
               ,
            
             
               By
               sound
               experience
               ,
               and
               unfeigned
               Faith
               ;
            
             
               And
               let
               the
               hope
               of
               yonder
               Glory
               raise
            
             
               My
               Soul
               to
               close
               with
               those
               reflects
               of
               praise
               .
            
          
           
             
               (
               1.
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               BY
               Nature
               ,
               and
               as
               out
               of
               Christ
               ,
            
             
               born
               of
               the
               flesh
               was
               I
               ;
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               By
               Grace
               ,
               and
               as
               I
               stand
               in
               Christ
               ,
            
             
               I
               'm
               new
               born
               spiritually
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               In
               Glory
               I
               with
               Christ
               shall
               reign
               ,
            
             
               and
               heavenly
               freedom
               have
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               Lord
               !
               what
               is
               man
               that
               thou
               shouldst
               daign
            
             
               so
               vile
               a
               Wretch
               to
               save
               ?
            
          
           
             
             
               (
               2.
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               Flesh
               did
               my
               Members
               and
               my
               mind
               ,
            
             
               with
               quietness
               inherit
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               But
               now
               a
               Warfare
               I
               do
               find
               ,
            
             
               betwixt
               my
               flesh
               and
               spirit
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               The
               spirit
               promised
               ,
               at
               length
               ,
            
             
               all
               glorious
               will
               make
               me
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               For
               that
               his
               War
               's
               above
               my
               strength
               ,
            
             
               let
               not
               my
               Christ
               forsake
               me
               .
            
          
           
             
               (
               3
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               My
               sensual
               lusts
               to
               satisfie
               ,
            
             
               a
               fleshly
               War
               I
               waged
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               But
               now
               for
               walking
               spiritually
               ,
            
             
               my
               spirit
               stands
               ingaged
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               Nay
               ,
               by
               Christ's
               quickning
               power
               at
               last
               ,
            
             
               transform'd
               I
               wait
               to
               be
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               Lord
               !
               what
               am
               I
               that
               thou
               should'st
               cast
               ,
            
             
               a
               look
               of
               love
               on
               me
               ?
            
          
           
             
               (
               4
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               To
               that
               which
               fleshly
               pleasure
               brings
               ,
            
             
               I
               wholly
               bent
               my
               mind
               :
            
             
               But
               now
               unto
               the
               Spirit
               's
               things
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               I
               chiefly
               stand
               inclin'd
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               At
               length
               my
               glorified
               eyes
               ,
            
             
               such
               sights
               alone
               shall
               see
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               Lord
               !
               what
               am
               I
               that
               thou
               should'st
               prize
               ,
            
             
               so
               poor
               a
               Worm
               as
               me
               ?
            
          
           
             
               (
               5
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               By
               sinful
               nature
               I
               was
               dead
               ,
            
             
               in
               trespasses
               and
               sins
               ;
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               By
               Gospel-Grace
               now
               quickened
               ,
            
             
               my
               Soul
               to
               live
               begins
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               The
               day
               approacheth
               ,
               when
               from
               sin
               ,
            
             
               I
               shall
               be
               wholly
               free
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               Lord
               ?
               what
               am
               I
               that
               thou
               hast
               been
               ,
            
             
               at
               so
               great
               cost
               on
               me
               ?
            
          
           
             
             
               (
               6.
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               In
               sin
               ,
               as
               in
               my
               Proper
               place
               ,
            
             
               I
               was
               well
               pleas'd
               to
               lie
               ;
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               But
               now
               I
               strive
               to
               walk
               by
               Grace
               ,
            
             
               in
               all
               simplicity
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               I
               shall
               presented
               be
               at
               last
               ,
            
             
               as
               my
               dear
               Christ
               is
               pure
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               What
               love
               is
               this
               ,
               that
               Christ
               so
               chast
               ,
            
             
               should
               such
               a
               Wretch
               indure
               ?
            
          
           
             
               (
               7.
               )
            
             
               Subjected
               to
               the
               Law
               of
               sin
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               and
               death
               I
               once
               did
               stand
               ,
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               Made
               free
               ,
               I
               to
               obey
               begin
               ,
            
             
               the
               Spirit
               of
               Life's
               command
               ;
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               A
               glorious
               triumph
               's
               yet
               in
               store
               ,
            
             
               o're
               sin
               and
               death
               for
               me
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               How
               should
               I
               Majesty
               adore
               ,
            
             
               that
               I
               thus
               sav'd
               should
               be
               ?
            
          
           
             
               (
               8.
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               Once
               Gods
               pure
               Nature
               ,
               Word
               and
               Law
            
             
               I
               hated
               as
               my
               foes
               :
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               Now
               with
               them
               I
               in
               holy
               awe
               ,
            
             
               and
               dear
               affections
               close
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               Desires
               shall
               into
               full
               delight
               ,
            
             
               at
               length
               resolved
               be
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               Lord
               !
               what
               am
               I
               that
               er'e
               my
               sight
            
             
               should
               such
               blest
               objects
               see
               ?
            
          
           
             
               (
               9
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               Born
               ignorant
               of
               Heavenly
               things
               ,
            
             
               I
               teachings
               did
               despise
               ;
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               All
               teachings
               which
               the
               Gospel
               brings
               ,
            
             
               my
               Soul
               doth
               dearly
               prize
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               Clear
               apprehensions
               I
               shall
               gain
               ,
            
             
               when
               Faith
               is
               turn'd
               to
               sight
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               Lord
               !
               what
               is
               man
               that
               thou
               shouldst
               daign
            
             
               on
               him
               to
               place
               delight
               ?
            
          
           
             
             
               (
               10.
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               With
               vilest
               Sons
               of
               men
               I
               chose
               ,
            
             
               my
               chief
               repast
               to
               take
               :
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               But
               now
               the
               strictest
               Saints
               are
               those
               ,
            
             
               whom
               bosome
               friend
               's
               I
               make
               .
            
             
               With
               glorious
               saints
               and
               Angles
               I
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               eternally
               shall
               dwell
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               Lord
               !
               raise
               me
               up
               to
               magnifie
               ,
            
             
               this
               Grace
               that
               doth
               excel
               .
            
          
           
             
               (
               11.
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               The
               form
               of
               godliness
               I
               loath'd
               ,
            
             
               which
               Sons
               of
               God
               profess
               ;
            
             
               Now
               with
               its
               power
               compleatly
               cloath'd
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               with
               all
               my
               heart
               I
               press
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               The
               price
               of
               that
               high
               Call
               at
               last
               ,
            
             
               I
               am
               in
               hope
               to
               gain
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   R.
                   
                
              
               Lord
               !
               why
               should
               all
               this
               grace
               be
               cast
            
             
               upon
               a
               Wretch
               so
               vain
               .
            
          
           
             
               (
               12.
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               Of
               earth
               ,
               an
               earthly
               man
               I
               was
               ,
            
             
               and
               earthly
               things
               did
               mind
               :
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               But
               now
               am
               brought
               from
               earth
               ,
               alas
               !
            
             
               yet
               here
               I
               stay
               behind
               .
            
             
               But
               shortly
               from
               the
               Earth
               I
               shall
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               rais'd
               ,
               and
               translated
               be
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               Admired
               kindness
               ,
               that
               at
               all
            
             
               God
               should
               have
               thoughts
               of
               me
               !
            
          
           
             
               (
               13
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               In
               Hell's
               black
               Region
               was
               my
               place
               ,
            
             
               dark
               as
               the
               blackest
               night
               ;
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               But
               now
               enlightned
               I
               through
               Grace
               ,
            
             
               Walk
               as
               a
               Child
               of
               Light.
               
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               With
               Light
               which
               morta●s
               cannot
               see
               ,
            
             
               I
               shortly
               hope
               to
               dwell
               :
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               What
               marvellous
               Grace
               is
               this
               to
               me
               ,
            
             
               sav'd
               from
               the
               lowest
               Hell
               !
            
          
           
             
             
               (
               14
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               A
               Babe
               was
               I
               in
               open
               field
               ,
            
             
               cast
               out
               in
               Blood
               ,
               and
               loath'd
               ;
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               Grace
               passing
               by
               ,
               a
               skirt
               did
               yield
               ,
            
             
               I
               now
               am
               wash't
               and
               cloath'd
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               With
               Robes
               immortal
               yet
               I
               wait
               ,
            
             
               in
               glory
               to
               be
               rais'd
               :
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               This
               is
               so
               surpassing
               great
               ,
            
             
               it
               cannot
               be
               display'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               (
               15
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               A
               stranger
               from
               my
               Fathers
               face
               ,
            
             
               by
               nature
               I
               remain'd
               ;
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               But
               to
               be
               call'd
               his
               Friend
               ,
               by
               Grace
               ,
            
             
               I
               have
               at
               length
               obtain'd
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               His
               fixed
               favourite
               in
               bliss
               ,
            
             
               eternal
               I
               shall
               be
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               O!
               what
               transcendent
               love
               is
               this
               ,
            
             
               to
               such
               a
               Wretch
               as
               me
               ?
            
          
           
             
               (
               16
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               At
               enmity
               with
               God
               I
               stood
               ,
            
             
               a
               Rebel
               fierce
               and
               wild
               ;
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               By
               shedding
               of
               my
               Saviours
               Blood
               ,
            
             
               I
               now
               am
               reconcil'd
               ,
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               Then
               saved
               by
               his
               Life
               much
               more
               ,
            
             
               I
               hope
               and
               wait
               to
               be
               ,
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               Lord
               ,
               I
               would
               humbly
               thee
               adore
               ,
            
             
               who
               thus
               hast
               saved
               me
               .
            
          
           
             
               (
               17
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                
              
               God's
               Righteous
               Law
               for
               wickedness
               ,
            
             
               my
               conscience
               did
               condemn
               ,
            
             
               But
               now
               through
               Christ's
               own
               Righteousness
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               I
               'm
               justifi'd
               in
               him
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               I
               hope
               for
               that
               refreshing
               day
               ,
            
             
               which
               will
               Salvation
               bring
               :
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               Who
               can
               the
               faithfulness
               display
               ,
            
             
               of
               my
               dear
               Lord
               and
               King.
               
            
          
           
             
             
               (
               18.
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               Once
               as
               a
               guilty
               Soul
               astray
               ,
            
             
               from
               God
               I
               fled
               for
               fear
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               Now
               by
               the
               new
               and
               living
               Way
               ,
            
             
               with
               boldness
               I
               draw
               near
               .
            
             
               The
               day's
               approaching
               when
               Above
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               I
               shall
               with
               God
               abide
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               Dear
               Soul
               ,
               this
               thought
               surpassing
               love
               ,
            
             
               in
               silence
               do
               not
               hide
               .
            
          
           
             
               (
               19
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               In
               Satan's
               Kingdom
               I
               lay
               chain'd
               ,
            
             
               a
               willing
               fetter'd
               slave
               :
            
             
               But
               Christ
               my
               liberty
               hath
               gain'd
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               choice
               freedom
               now
               I
               have
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               Of
               Heavenly
               free
               Jerusalem
               ,
            
             
               I
               Citizen
               shall
               be
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               How
               can
               I
               do
               enough
               for
               him
               ,
            
             
               who
               all
               this
               did
               for
               me
               ?
            
          
           
             
               (
               20
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               From
               any
               bond
               to
               Righteousness
               ,
            
             
               I
               once
               was
               wholly
               free
               :
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               But
               now
               made
               free
               to
               righteousness
               ,
            
             
               its
               servant
               I
               would
               be
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               In
               Righteousness
               I
               hope
               to
               raign
               ,
            
             
               when
               sin
               shall
               tempt
               no
               more
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               Let
               not
               this
               Grace
               be
               all
               in
               vain
               ,
            
             
               laid
               richly
               thus
               in
               store
               .
            
          
           
             
               (
               21.
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               Through
               guilt
               and
               wrath
               which
               once
               I
               saw
               ,
            
             
               my
               terrors
               did
               increase
               :
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               But
               now
               deliver'd
               from
               the
               Law
               ,
            
             
               by
               faith
               I
               live
               in
               peace
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               Of
               Faith
               I
               shall
               obtain
               the
               end
               ,
            
             
               in
               full
               Salvation
               then
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               How
               doth
               this
               grace
               of
               God
               transcend
               ,
            
             
               the
               utmost
               thoughts
               of
               men
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               (
               22
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               My
               hopes
               ,
               with
               false
               foundations
               propt
               ,
            
             
               oft
               turn'd
               into
               despair
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               But
               now
               its
               Anchor
               safely
               dropt
               ,
            
             
               doth
               true
               rejoycings
               rear
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               Things
               hop'd-for
               shall
               be
               full
               injoy'd
               ,
            
             
               no
               work
               for
               hope
               in
               sight
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               O
               Blessedness
               !
               to
               be
               imploy'd
               ,
            
             
               in
               acts
               of
               pure
               delight
               .
            
          
           
             
               (
               23
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               No
               right
               to
               promises
               had
               I
               ,
            
             
               or
               words
               that
               tend
               to
               save
               ;
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               Now
               promises
               I
               can
               apply
               ,
            
             
               to
               all
               ,
               true
               right
               I
               have
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               All
               heavenly
               Blessings
               promised
               ,
            
             
               I
               fully
               shall
               partake
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               Why
               stand
               I
               thus
               distinguished
               ,
            
             
               alone
               for
               mercies
               sake
               ?
            
          
           
             
               (
               24
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               Born
               from
               beneath
               ,
               as
               Satan's
               Brat
               ,
            
             
               Hell's
               heritage
               did
               find
               me
               ;
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               But
               God
               ,
               who
               me
               by
               grace
               begat
               ,
            
             
               Heir
               of
               the
               World
               assign'd
               me
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               An
               heir
               of
               God
               ,
               joynt-heir
               with
               Christ
            
             
               in
               Heaven
               I
               shall
               dwell
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               Lord
               !
               leave
               me
               not
               to
               be
               intic't
               ,
            
             
               this
               Heritage
               to
               sell
               .
            
          
           
             
               (
               25
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               My
               Fence
               departed
               ,
               unto
               harms
            
             
               I
               daily
               was
               expos'd
               ;
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               But
               lodg'd
               in
               everlasting
               arms
               ,
            
             
               I
               safely
               am
               inclos'd
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               A
               Mount
               impregnable
               e're
               long
               ,
            
             
               God
               will
               about
               me
               raise
               :
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               Oh!
               put
               an
               everlasting
               Song
               ,
            
             
               into
               my
               mouth
               of
               praise
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               (
               26
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   ▪
                
              
               By
               works
               of
               my
               own
               Righteousness
               ,
            
             
               the
               way
               to
               Heaven
               I
               sought
               ,
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               Of
               trusting
               to
               it
               more
               or
               less
               ,
            
             
               I
               now
               abhor
               the
               thought
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               In
               Righteousness
               ,
               without
               a
               spot
               ,
            
             
               I
               shall
               presented
               be
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               Admired
               ●e
               my
               blessed
               Lot
               ,
            
             
               lay'd
               up
               in
               Christ
               for
               me
               .
            
          
           
             
               (
               27
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               My
               single
               self
               ,
               in
               sensual
               lust
               ,
            
             
               as
               my
               chief
               end
               I
               sought
               :
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               But
               chiefly
               now
               contrive
               I
               must
               ,
            
             
               God
               may
               have
               honour
               brought
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               To
               give
               him
               glory
               still
               in
               bliss
               ,
            
             
               my
               work
               will
               shortly
               be
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               With
               joy
               unspeakable
               will
               this
               ,
            
             
               imployment
               ravish
               me
               .
            
          
           
             
               28.
               
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               Like
               a
               lost
               Sheep
               ,
               or
               Goat
               ,
               or
               Son
               ,
            
             
               distresses
               did
               surround
               me
               ,
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               But
               in
               this
               Desart
               state
               undone
               ,
            
             
               sweet
               Jesus
               sought
               and
               found
               me
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               And
               shortly
               to
               my
               long'd-for
               home
               ,
            
             
               me
               in
               his
               armes
               will
               bring
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               Ah!
               what
               high
               raised
               Songs
               become
               ,
            
             
               my
               beauteous
               glorious
               king
               ?
            
          
           
             
               (
               29.
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               Through
               darkness
               then
               upon
               my
               mind
               ,
            
             
               I
               nothing
               knew
               nor
               learn'd
               ;
            
             
               Through
               gracious
               teachings
               now
               I
               find
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               deep
               things
               in
               part
               discern'd
               .
            
             
               Through
               perfect
               Vision
               all
               things
               I
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               shall
               know
               as
               I
               am
               known
               :
            
             
               His
               glory
               to
               eternity
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               his
               Praises
               shall
               be
               shown
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               (
               30.
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               Best
               services
               I
               then
               perform'd
               ,
            
             
               a
               loathsome
               stink
               did
               make
               :
            
             
               Weak
               services
               are
               now
               adorn'd
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               and
               sweet
               for
               Jesus
               sake
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               A
               Reward
               ,
               not
               of
               Debt
               but
               Grace
               ,
            
             
               such
               services
               shall
               Crown
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               'T
               is
               wonderful
               that
               God
               should
               place
               ,
            
             
               on
               Dust
               ,
               such
               great
               renown
               .
            
          
           
             
               (
               31.
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               Sin
               did
               God's
               Image
               quite
               deface
               ,
            
             
               and
               like
               a
               beast
               besot
               me
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               But
               dignities
               bestow'd
               by
               Grace
               ,
            
             
               rais'd
               like
               a
               Prince
               hath
               got
               me
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               Yet
               more
               transform'd
               I
               want
               to
               be
               ,
            
             
               like
               Angels
               who
               excel
               :
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               What
               glorious
               Grace
               is
               this
               to
               me
               ,
            
             
               a
               firebrand
               pluckt
               from
               Hell
               ?
            
          
           
             
               (
               32
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               Both
               Sin
               ,
               and
               Satan
               ,
               as
               their
               own
               ,
            
             
               my
               Members
               did
               inherit
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               But
               now
               this
               Body
               is
               the
               Throne
               ,
            
             
               a
               Temple
               of
               the
               spirit
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               And
               though
               in
               vileness
               't
               will
               be
               sown
               ,
            
             
               't
               will
               Spiritually
               be
               rais'd
            
             
               Since
               God
               such
               glorious
               depths
               makes
               known
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               how
               should
               this
               Grace
               be
               prais'd
               ;
            
          
           
             
               (
               33.
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               God's
               glory
               into
               shame
               I
               turn'd
               ,
            
             
               and
               in
               that
               shame
               did
               boast
               ;
            
             
               Now
               things
               for
               which
               my
               lust
               then
               burn'd
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               I
               blush
               and
               loath
               them
               most
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               But
               far
               above
               all
               sin
               and
               shame
               ,
            
             
               I
               shall
               be
               rais'd
               on
               high
               :
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               Lord
               set
               me
               on
               a
               gracious
               frame
               ,
            
             
               thy
               Name
               to
               magnifie
            
          
           
             
             
               (
               34.
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               All
               dirt
               and
               mire
               among
               the
               pots
               ,
            
             
               you
               might
               my
               visage
               see
               ,
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                
              
               But
               now
               ,
               though
               mixt
               with
               waves
               and
               spots
               ,
            
             
               fair
               as
               the
               Moon
               I
               be
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               My
               raised
               Glory
               shall
               at
               last
               ,
            
             
               The
               Suns
               bright
               Beams
               out-shine
               :
            
             
               How
               could
               eternal
               life
               be
               plac't
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               on
               Souls
               so
               black
               as
               mine
               ?
            
          
           
             
               (
               35.
               )
            
             
               
                 
                   Nature
                   .
                
              
               Within
               the
               Region
               once
               I
               sate
               ,
            
             
               of
               Death's
               dark
               dreadful
               Shade
               ,
            
             
               
                 
                   Grace
                   .
                
              
               In
               Light
               's
               Dominion
               now
               of
               late
               ,
            
             
               to
               sit
               down
               I
               am
               made
               .
            
             
               
                 
                   Glory
                   .
                
              
               A
               throne
               of
               glorious
               Life
               at
               length
               ,
            
             
               reserv'd
               in
               Promise
               lies
               :
            
             
               Lord
               lead
               thy
               worm
               from
               strength
               to
               strength
            
             
               
                 
                   Refl
                   .
                
              
               such
               precious
               Grace
               to
               prize
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             For
             young
             Joseph
             Branch
             .
          
           
             
               (
               1.
               )
            
             
               THe
               names
               that
               Holy
               men
               of
               old
            
             
               did
               on
               their
               Children
               set
               ,
            
             
               Some
               mysteries
               tended
               to
               unfold
               ,
            
             
               some
               teachings
               to
               beget
               .
            
             
               Some
               works
               of
               God
               in
               ancient
               dayes
            
             
               were
               to
               remembrance
               brought
               ;
            
             
               Or
               some
               instructions
               for
               their
               wayes
               ,
            
             
               was
               thus
               kept
               in
               their
               thought
               .
            
          
           
             
               (
               2.
               )
            
             
               This
               way
               our
               wanton
               age
               disgusts
               ;
            
             
               our
               names
               have
               other
               ends
               :
            
             
               The
               rich
               thus
               gratifie
               their
               Lusts
               ,
            
             
               the
               poor
               thus
               please
               their
               Friends
               .
            
             
             
               Yet
               sometimes
               Providence
               is
               known
            
             
               tradition
               to
               out-reach
               ;
            
             
               That
               names
               ,
               at
               unawares
               bestown
               ,
            
             
               some
               Gospel
               truths
               do
               preach
               .
            
          
           
             
               (
               3.
               )
            
             
               And
               what
               should
               hinder
               but
               I
               might
               ,
            
             
               such
               lessons
               learn
               in
               mine
               ;
            
             
               Did
               Parents
               teach
               me
               and
               the
               light
            
             
               of
               grace
               upon
               me
               shine
               .
            
             
               Of
               Holy
               Jos●ph
               I
               might
               learn
               ,
            
             
               a
               fruitful
               Bough
               to
               be
               ,
            
             
               And
               Christ
               the
               
                 Branch
                 ▪
              
               I
               might
               discern
            
             
               a
               living
               Root
               to
               me
               .
            
          
           
             
               (
               4
               )
            
             
               Alas
               !
               A
               brasch
               by
               nature
               now
            
             
               of
               a
               wild
               Vine
               I
               be
               ,
            
             
               Of
               the
               degenerated
               Bough
               ,
            
             
               of
               thee
               wild-Olive-tree
               .
            
             
               My
               root
               is
               rottenness
               like
               dust
               ,
            
             
               my
               blossoms
               will
               ascend
               ;
            
             
               My
               grapes
               are
               Sodom's
               pride
               and
               lust
               ,
            
             
               to
               death
               my
               clusters
               tend
               .
            
          
           
             
               (
               5.
               )
            
             
               Can
               pricking
               Bryar
               ,
               or
               grieving
               thorn
               ,
            
             
               good
               grapes
               in
               clusters
               bear
               ;
            
             
               Are
               figgs
               upon
               the
               Thistle
               born
               ,
            
             
               will
               any
               seek
               them
               there
               ?
            
             
               A
               root
               of
               bitterness
               can
               nought
               ,
            
             
               but
               gall
               and
               wormwood
               bring
               .
            
             
               No
               wholsome
               water
               can
               be
               brought
            
             
               from
               a
               corrupted
               spring
               .
            
          
           
             
               (
               6.
               )
            
             
               ●anured
               nature
               forth
               may
               bring
            
             
               a
               lovely
               Branch
               to
               sight
               ,
            
             
               With
               leaves
               and
               blossoms
               of
               the
               Spring
               ,
            
             
               and
               shades
               of
               great
               delight
               .
            
             
               But
               if
               no
               fruit
               it
               doth
               afford
            
             
               as
               Christ
               expects
               to
               find
               ;
            
             
               The
               Figg-tree
               dry'd
               ,
               or
               
               Jonas-Gourd
               ,
            
             
               my
               dreadful
               state
               do
               mind
               ,
            
             
             
               What
               (
               once
               fair
               )
               Branches
               may
               I
               spy
               ,
            
             
               of
               fruit
               and
               leaves
               bereft
               ?
            
             
               Who
               living
               may
               be
               said
               to
               dye
               ,
            
             
               to
               men
               ,
               and
               burning
               left
               .
            
             
               What
               great
               appearance
               once
               they
               made
               ,
            
             
               with
               cost
               were
               dig'd
               and
               drest
               ,
            
             
               They
               yielded
               an
               increasing
               shade
               ,
            
             
               and
               promis'd
               with
               the
               best
               .
            
          
           
             
               (
               8.
               )
            
             
               ut
               like
               the
               Ivy
               ,
               hardly
               known
               ,
            
             
               on
               other
               Branches
               hung
            
             
               Their
               Root
               was
               properly
               their
               own
            
             
               though
               to
               the
               rind
               they
               clung
               .
            
             
               But
               now
               the
               Fan
               and
               Axe
               are
               brought
               ,
            
             
               to
               purge
               and
               cast
               away
               :
            
             
               Such
               fruitless
               figg-trees
               come
               to
               nought
               ,
            
             
               such
               empty
               Vines
               decay
               .
            
          
           
             
               (
               9
               )
            
             
               True
               ,
               the
               Vine-dresser
               yet
               intreats
               ,
            
             
               that
               digg'd
               or
               dung'd
               they
               be
               ;
            
             
               If
               precepts
               ,
               promises
               ,
               or
               threats
               ,
            
             
               may
               better
               them
               or
               me
               .
            
             
               But
               to
               our
               root
               the
               axe
               is
               put
               ,
            
             
               If
               no
               good
               fruit
               be
               found
               ,
            
             
               This
               is
               the
               sentence
               ,
               down
               them
               cut
               ;
            
             
               why
               cumber
               they
               the
               ground
               ?
            
          
           
             
               (
               10
               )
            
             
               Instruction
               I
               should
               learn
               from
               hence
               ,
            
             
               How
               vile
               a
               branch
               I
               be
               ;
            
             
               Unless
               ,
               in
               a
               new-cov'nant
               sense
               ,
            
             
               a
               death
               shall
               pass
               on
               me
               .
            
             
               Unless
               from
               Adam
               I
               be
               cut
            
             
               as
               standing
               in
               the
               law
               ,
            
             
               And
               by
               a
               new
               ingrafture
               put
            
             
               Christs
               life
               and
               sap
               to
               draw
               .
            
          
           
             
               (
               11
               )
            
             
               Might
               I
               in
               that
               true
               Vine
               be
               found
            
             
               a
               branch
               that
               bides
               alive
               ;
            
             
               And
               from
               that
               root
               and
               plant-renown'd
            
             
               might
               fat
               and
               fruit
               derive
               .
            
             
             
               Like
               
               Joseph's
               would
               my
               fruitful-Bough
            
             
               by
               Well
               and
               Wall
               be
               sent
               ,
            
             
               Nay
               ,
               though
               the
               Archers
               griev'd
               me
               now
            
             
               my
               Bow
               would
               bide
               in
               bent
               .
            
          
           
             
               (
               12.
               )
            
             
               Then
               in
               the
               schorching
               years
               of
               drought
               ,
            
             
               when
               moisture
               others
               want
               ;
            
             
               I
               should
               retain
               both
               leaves
               and
               blowth
               ,
            
             
               and
               flourish
               like
               a
               plant
               .
            
             
               Till
               planted
               by
               the
               Crystal
               brooks
               ,
            
             
               in
               Paradice
               I
               be
               ,
            
             
               Where
               Gods
               fruit-ripening
               shining
               looks
            
             
               shall
               still
               be
               fixt
               on
               me
               .
            
          
        
      
       
         
           
             Verses
             sent
             by
             an
             unknown
             Hand
             ,
             to
             Captain
             Sampson
             Lark
             ,
             in
             Exon-Prison
             with
             a
             Respond
             .
          
           
             
               DIversion
               breeds
               delight
               ,
               delight
               prepares
            
             
               for
               action
               ,
               action
               is
               the
               ●each
               of
               cares
               :
            
             
               When
               one
               from
               t'other
               in
               this
               wise
               proceed
               ,
            
             
               Then
               of
               Diversion
               sometime
               you
               have
               need
               .
            
             
               Cares
               only
               sinful
               actions
               must
               expell
               ,
            
             
               Which
               none
               but
               lawful
               actions
               can
               do
               well
               :
            
             
               And
               lawful
               actions
               breed
               a
               chast
               delight
               ,
            
             
               Which
               flows
               from
               good
               diversion
               when
               its
               right
               ,
            
             
               It
               lawful
               actions
               shoot
               out
               sinful
               care
               ;
            
             
               And
               chast
               delight
               doth
               for
               such
               acts
               prepare
               ;
            
             
               And
               good
               Diversion
               breeds
               such
               chast
               delight
               :
            
             
               Have
               at
               the
               mark
               !
               Sure
               ,
               this
               will
               hit
               the
               white
               :
            
             
               Though
               you
               are
               mostly
               known
               to
               me
               by
               fame
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               I
               'le
               make
               bold
               to
               descant
               on
               your
               name
               :
            
             
               Names
               to
               the
               things
               sometimes
               do
               well
               agree
               ,
            
             
               As
               ,
               in
               your
               name
               ,
               whoever
               will
               may
               see
               .
            
             
               When
               this
               agreement
               shall
               to
               light
               be
               brought
               ,
            
             
               All
               men
               will
               say
               ,
               your
               name
               is
               not
               for
               nought
               :
            
             
               Lark
               is
               your
               name
               ,
               and
               Larks
               most
               sweetly
               sing
               ,
            
             
               When
               they
               are
               mounted
               highest
               on
               the
               wing
               :
            
             
               Your
               towring
               Soul
               sometimes
               mounts
               up
               on
               high
               ,
            
             
               And
               sings
               its
               sweetest
               notes
               above
               the
               sky
               .
            
             
             
               The
               Lark
               seeds
               clean
               and
               can
               no
               filth
               abide
               .
            
             
               To
               Common-prayer
               should
               you
               a
               month
               be
               ty'd
               ;
            
             
               I
               am
               perswaded
               ,
               I
               may
               safely
               say
               ,
            
             
               You
               'ld
               live
               on
               that
               as
               well
               as
               Larks
               by
               Hay
               :
            
             
               The
               Lark's
               a
               Princely
               Dish
               ,
               though
               small
               to
               sight
               ,
            
             
               The
               Pestle
               of
               a
               Lark
               ,
               is
               worth
               a
               Kite
               .
            
             
               One
               Hour's
               discourse
               with
               you
               more
               gain
               affords
               ,
            
             
               Then
               years
               acquaintance
               with
               some
               greater
               Birds
               .
            
             
               But
               there
               's
               a
               season
               when
               Larks
               may
               be
               caught
               ,
            
             
               A
               month
               in
               which
               the
               silly
               Bird
               doth
               dote
               :
            
             
               And
               then
               the
               Fowlers
               use
               to
               set
               their
               Gin
               ,
            
             
               They
               leave
               their
               stall
               ,
               their
               lure
               ,
               the
               glass
               wherein
            
             
               The
               Birds
               behold
               a
               false
               ,
               though
               glistering
               Sun
               ,
            
             
               And
               tempted
               by
               it
               to
               the
               lure
               do
               come
               :
            
             
               And
               to
               it
               play
               ,
               which
               when
               the
               Fowler
               sees
               ,
            
             
               He
               makes
               no
               doubt
               but
               such
               a
               Lark
               is
               his
               .
            
             
               The
               cunning
               Fowlers
               they
               have
               set
               their
               gin
               ,
            
             
               Good
               Sir
               ,
               beware
               least
               they
               should
               draw
               you
               in
               :
            
             
               Should
               you
               be
               caught
               they
               'l
               make
               a
               stall
               of
               you
               ,
            
             
               To
               tice
               in
               others
               as
               they
               use
               to
               do
               .
            
             
               Sir
               keep
               aloft
               ,
               and
               stoop
               not
               to
               their
               glass
               ;
            
             
               Lest
               what
               I
               do
               but
               hint
               ,
               should
               com
               to
               pass
               .
            
             
               I
               wish
               ,
               the
               Proverb
               may
               in
               this
               prove
               true
               ;
            
             
               Till
               the
               sky
               falls
               ,
               they
               'l
               ne'r
               catch
               such
               as
               you
               ▪
            
             
               I
               am
               no
               Poet
               nor
               a
               Poet's
               Son
               ,
            
             
               As
               you
               may
               guess
               by
               what
               I
               now
               have
               done
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               pray
               accept
               what
               I
               in
               love
               do
               send
               ,
            
             
               Although
               it
               come
               from
               —
            
             
               
                 Your
                 concealed
                 friend
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               Respond
               .
            
             
               DUll
               Genius
               rouze
               ,
               for
               shame
               awaken
               ,
               Heark
            
             
               What
               mourning
               melody
               salutes
               the
               Lark
               :
            
             
               What
               meetred
               musick
               ,
               what
               Seraphick
               straines
               ,
            
             
               What
               curious
               warblings
               eccho
               through
               the
               plains
               .
            
             
               The
               singer
               to
               retirement
               is
               diposed
               ,
            
             
               No
               name
               ,
               nor
               Character
               ▪
               must
               be
               disclosed
               .
            
             
               The
               str●in
               transcends
               (
               vail'd
               )
               in
               some
               shady
               bush
               )
            
             
               The
               Gold-bill'd
               Black-bird
               or
               the
               dapple
               Thrush
               .
            
             
             
               Outvies
               the
               Nightingal
               or
               turtles
               voice
               ,
            
             
               The
               notion's
               ravishing
               ,
               th'anointing's
               choice
               .
            
             
               Some
               Zions
               singer
               in
               a
               sable
               coat
               !
            
             
               Stop
               ,
               cease
               thus
               guessing
               ,
               Hark
               ,
               attend
               his
               note
               .
            
             
               His
               quick
               intelligence
               on
               Eagle's
               wings
               ,
            
             
               Yields
               Piercing
               insight
               through
               terrestrial
               things
               ▪
            
             
               He
               sees
               ,
               and
               smiles
               ,
               at
               mens
               phanatick
               rage
               ,
            
             
               In
               cloistering
               unshorn
               -
               Sampson
               in
               a
               Cage
               ;
            
             
               Besides
               the
               vain
               attempts
               ,
               to
               clip
               the
               wing
               ,
            
             
               Or
               to
               inhibit
               Birds
               inspir'd
               to
               sing
               .
            
             
               But
               here
               he
               's
               out
               ,
               mistaking
               he
               admires
            
             
               
               Lark's
               worth
               in
               act
               ,
               which
               is
               but
               in
               desires
               ;
            
             
               He
               spies
               the
               stratagems
               ,
               bewrayes
               the
               wiles
               ,
            
             
               Wherewith
               the
               Fowler
               silly
               Larks
               beguiles
               .
            
             
               He
               warns
               of
               dangers
               ,
               needful
               counsel
               drops
               ,
            
             
               Forestalls
               surprisal
               ,
               hints
               coelestials
               props
               .
            
             
               Both
               heaven
               and
               earth
               his
               lot
               must
               needs
               commend
            
             
               Who
               hath
               such
               a
               seal'd
               ,
               though
               concealed
               ,
               Friend
               .
            
             
               Friend
               do
               not
               cease
               ,
               thy
               outcry
               to
               prefer
               ,
            
             
               Slack
               not
               thy
               witness
               from
               thy
               mount
               of
               Mirrh
               .
            
             
               Although
               the
               Rock
               of
               ages
               thee
               immure
               ,
            
             
               Where
               Bread's
               ascertain'd
               ,
               and
               where
               water's
               sure
               ;
            
             
               Though
               out
               of
               dread
               and
               gunshot
               thou
               abide
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Talent
               in
               a
               napkin
               do
               not
               hide
               .
            
             
               From
               Mount-Communion
               Gospel-depths
               disclose
               ,
            
             
               If
               not
               in
               Meeter
               ,
               yet
               in
               Nervous
               Prose
               .
            
             
               For
               ,
               If
               to
               birds
               incag'd
               thy
               strains
               be
               rare
               ,
            
             
               The●'l
               more
               be
               priz'd
               by
               birds
               in
               th'
               open
               air
               .
            
             
               Direct
               thy
               musick
               to
               the
               shady
               Wood
               ,
            
             
               Where
               for
               a
               covert
               ,
               and
               to
               pick
               their
               food
            
             
               The
               sometime
               numerous
               flock
               ,
               dispersed
               lie
               ,
            
             
               Expos'd
               to
               sinkings
               ,
               and
               design'd
               to
               die
               :
            
             
               Let
               pitty
               move
               you
               ,
               yea
               let
               grace
               incline
            
             
               Your
               yearning
               Bowels
               ,
               by
               a
               power
               divine
               :
            
             
               Sing
               heaps
               of
               Wheat
               ;
               Birds
               of
               the
               Golden-feather
               ,
            
             
               Will
               fly
               like
               clouds
               ,
               then
               flock
               like
               Doves
               together
               .
            
             
               Ne'r
               fear
               the
               Vulturs
               that
               are
               now
               abroad
               ,
            
             
               Your
               Covert-work
               and
               wages
               ,
               are
               of
               God
               ▪
            
             
               I
               le
               not
               detain
               you
               but
               conclude
               ,
               and
               end
               ,
            
             
               Your
               no-way
               tired
               ,
               though
               retired
               ,
               Friend
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             
             
               A
               Coppy
               of
               Verses
               ,
               Composed
               and
               sent
               me
               from
               London
               ,
               by
               a
               Child
               of
               12
               years
               o
               Age.
               
            
             
               OH
               what
               is
               man
               !
               that
               God
               should
               mindful
               be
            
             
               Of
               such
               a
               Brute
               ,
               of
               such
               a
               Beast
               as
               he
               !
            
             
               Admire
               the
               goodness
               of
               the
               Lord
               of
               lords
               ,
            
             
               That
               he
               such
               mercy
               unto
               man
               affords
               :
            
             
               Man
               ,
               that
               's
               but
               durt
               ,
               or
               clay
               ,
               or
               some
               such
               thing
               .
            
             
               Oh!
               then
               admire
               the
               goodness
               of
               our
               King
               !
            
             
               When
               first
               the
               Lord
               created
               man
               ,
               then
               he
            
             
               Did
               give
               him
               grace
               to
               live
               eternally
               .
            
             
               Then
               he
               did
               fill
               him
               with
               his
               holy
               Spirit
               ,
            
             
               And
               gave
               him
               power
               ,
               eternal
               joy
               to
               merit
               .
            
             
               Thus
               man
               ,
               by
               his
               own
               power
               and
               strength
               doth
               stand
            
             
               The
               subtil
               Serpent
               comes
               with
               a
               strong
               hand
            
             
               To
               try
               mans
               power
               ,
               and
               to
               shake
               his
               faith
            
             
               Thus
               to
               the
               woman
               he
               begins
               and
               saith
            
             
               Come
               silly
               woman
               ;
               hath
               God
               said
               that
               ye
            
             
               Are
               not
               to
               eat
               of
               the
               forbidden
               Tree
               ?
            
             
               The
               woman
               ,
               answering
               to
               the
               Serpent
               ,
               said
               ,
            
             
               We
               are
               to
               eat
               of
               all
               that
               God
               hath
               made
               ,
            
             
               But
               from
               the
               tree
               that
               in
               the
               midst
               doth
               stand
               ,
            
             
               We
               are
               commanded
               to
               refrain
               our
               hand
               .
            
             
               The
               subtil
               Serpent
               gat
               the
               day
               at
               last
               ,
            
             
               And
               made
               poor
               Eve
               and
               Adam
               be
               laid
               fast
               ,
            
             
               In
               mire
               and
               dirt
               and
               filth
               of
               sinful
               sin
               ;
            
             
               Which
               made
               poor
               Adam
               Gods
               great
               curse
               to
               win
               ▪
            
             
               For
               when
               the
               woman
               saw
               the
               tree
               was
               good
            
             
               And
               that
               't
               would
               make
               one
               wise
               ,
               also
               for
               food
               ;
            
             
               She
               takes
               the
               fruit
               of
               the
               forbidden
               tree
               ,
            
             
               And
               gave
               some
               to
               her
               husband
               ;
               and
               when
               he
            
             
               Had
               taken
               of
               the
               fruit
               ,
               he
               condescended
            
             
               To
               eat
               likewise
               ,
               so
               to
               the
               Serpent
               bended
               .
            
             
               Now
               God
               perceiving
               man
               had
               quite
               lost
               all
            
             
               This
               great
               perfection
               ,
               had
               before
               his
               fall
               ;
            
             
               And
               that
               there
               was
               no
               way
               for
               him
               to
               stand
               :
            
             
               He
               thinks
               how
               he
               might
               put
               an
               helping
               hand
               .
            
             
             
               Though
               feeble
               man
               's
               thus
               fallen
               ,
               and
               quite
               lost
               ,
            
             
               God
               calls
               his
               Son
               ,
               and
               therein
               spares
               no
               cost
               ,
            
             
               Who
               sure
               is
               able
               all
               their
               sins
               to
               bear
            
             
               Yea
               though
               their
               sins
               were
               twice
               as
               many
               more
               .
            
             
               Come
               ,
               my
               dear
               Son
               ;
               come
               wilt
               thou
               undertake
            
             
               To
               bear
               those
               Sinners
               sins
               ;
               do
               ,
               for
               my
               sake
               .
            
             
               Come
               ,
               my
               dear
               Son
               !
               redeem
               lost
               man
               for
               me
               ,
            
             
               I
               have
               no
               way
               to
               save
               him
               ,
               but
               by
               thee
               .
            
             
               If
               thou
               wilt
               be
               a
               surety
               for
               mankind
               ,
            
             
               I
               'le
               covenant
               with
               thee
               (
               dear
               Son
               ,
               )
               and
               bind
            
             
               My self
               to
               give
               thee
               strength
               and
               glorious
               power
               ,
            
             
               For
               to
               go
               through
               the
               torments
               of
               that
               hour
               ,
            
             
               In
               which
               thou
               Justice
               art
               to
               Satisfie
               ,
            
             
               I
               say
               againe
               to
               thee
               ,
               I
               will
               stand
               by
               .
            
             
               Our
               Lord
               and
               Saviour
               ,
               willing
               for
               man's
               sake
               ,
            
             
               To
               dye
               for
               him
               ,
               he
               did
               his
               office
               ●ake
               ,
            
             
               And
               so
               well
               did
               perform
               his
               charge
               ,
               that
               he
            
             
               Poor
               man
               from
               chaines
               of
               darkness
               did
               set
               free
               ,
            
             
               By
               offering
               up
               himself
               a
               Sacrifice
               ,
            
             
               He
               paid
               the
               debt
               ,
               that
               did
               for
               sin
               arise
               ,
            
             
               Go
               that
               the
               highest
               heavens
               doth
               now
               ascend
            
             
               To
               God
               the
               Father
               ,
               and
               from
               thence
               doth
               send
            
             
               His
               holy
               Spirit
               ,
               to
               lead
               in
               the
               way
               ,
            
             
               And
               guide
               us
               ,
               lest
               we
               erre
               and
               go
               astray
               .
            
             
               A●l
               praise
               be
               given
               unto
               the
               Lord
               of
               lords
               ,
            
             
               〈…〉
               his
               Grace
               much
               help
               to
               us
               affords
               ,
            
             
               And
               〈◊〉
               us
               all
               our
               dayes
               express
               the
               same
               ,
            
             
               〈◊〉
               honour
               of
               his
               great
               and
               glorious
               Name
               .
            
          
           
             
               An
               Answer
               being
               desired
               ,
               This
               fragment
               being
               but
               a
               part
               of
               what
               was
               intended
               .
            
             
               
                 ●●nd
                 Friend
                 ,
              
            
             
               
                 When
                 first
                 I
                 purpos'd
                 freely
                 to
                 rehearse
              
               
                 The
                 courteous
                 welcome
                 of
                 your
                 rare
                 ripe
                 verse
                 ;
              
               
                 With
                 what
                 delight
                 ,
                 your
                 promptness
                 we
                 descry
              
               
                 With
                 what
                 thanks-givings
                 we
                 God's
                 teachings
                 eye
                 :
              
               
                 How
                 wit
                 's
                 d●xterity
                 ascends
                 its
                 place
                 ,
              
               
                 〈◊〉
                 how
                 it
                 prostrates
                 to
                 enthroned
                 grace
                 :
              
               
                 On
                 this
                 design
                 ,
                 there
                 need
                 not
                 be
                 impr●'st
                 ,
              
               
                 Our
                 rural
                 requisites
                 to
                 do
                 their
                 best
                 .
              
               
               
                 Our
                 empty
                 Genius
                 would
                 attempt
                 the
                 wing
                 ;
              
               
                 Our
                 home-spun
                 dialect
                 ,
                 its
                 store
                 would
                 bring
                 :
              
               
                 Wit
                 ,
                 if
                 its
                 wit
                 assistance
                 would
                 afford
              
               
                 And
                 wanton
                 mirth
                 turn-out
                 its
                 frothy
                 hoord
                 .
              
               
                 But
                 all
                 their
                 work
                 were
                 fitter
                 for
                 the
                 plough
                 ,
              
               
                 Than
                 wreath
                 a
                 Garland
                 for
                 your
                 hopeful
                 brow
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 For
                 ,
                 look
                 as
                 hazy
                 morning-mists
                 give
                 way
                 ,
              
               
                 When
                 glistering
                 Phoebus
                 doth
                 his
                 beams
                 display
                 ;
              
               
                 Or
                 as
                 with
                 gentlest
                 touch
                 the
                 fearful
                 snail
                 ▪
              
               
                 Contracts
                 his
                 cornets
                 ,
                 and
                 slow
                 silvering
                 tail
                 :
              
               
                 So
                 slunk
                 ,
                 and
                 shrunk
                 ,
                 for
                 shame
                 ,
                 such
                 vain
                 essayes
                 ,
              
               
                 By
                 sound
                 rebukes
                 from
                 your
                 grave
                 gracious
                 layes
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 Since
                 then
                 ,
                 no
                 concord
                 can
                 be
                 but
                 a
                 clash
              
               
                 'Twixt
                 the
                 best
                 substance
                 ,
                 and
                 this
                 filthy
                 trash
                 ,
              
               
                 No
                 streams
                 ,
                 nor
                 frames
                 ,
                 can
                 square
                 with
                 the
                 design
                 ,
              
               
                 But
                 aid
                 and
                 arguments
                 throughout
                 divine
                 ;
              
               
                 What
                 great
                 necessity
                 upon
                 us
                 lies
                 ,
              
               
                 For
                 that
                 anointing
                 to
                 prefer
                 our
                 cryes
                 ;
              
            
             
               
                 That
                 's
                 promis'd
                 and
                 prepared
                 to
                 direct
                 ,
              
               
                 Through
                 paths
                 of
                 Myst'ries
                 secrets
                 to
                 detect
                 ,
              
               
                 Things
                 hid
                 from
                 ages
                 ,
                 from
                 the
                 voice
                 to
                 hide
              
               
                 Of
                 fleshly
                 glory
                 ,
                 to
                 abase
                 the
                 pride
                 .
              
               
                 While
                 Babes
                 and
                 sucklings
                 ,
                 weak
                 ,
                 base
                 empty
                 things
                 ,
              
               
                 Into
                 the
                 knowledge
                 of
                 these
                 depths
                 he
                 brings
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 Oh
                 then
                 what
                 purity
                 should
                 such
                 direct
                 ,
              
               
                 As
                 lively
                 leadings
                 in
                 such
                 paths
                 expect
                 ?
              
               
                 What
                 chast
                 conceptions
                 ,
                 yea
                 what
                 frames
                 refin'd
              
               
                 Should
                 still
                 accommodate
                 the
                 waiting
                 mind
                 ?
              
               
                 And
                 then
                 how
                 thankful
                 should
                 they
                 trembling
                 stand
                 ,
              
               
                 Who
                 need
                 such
                 leadings
                 from
                 this
                 Holy
                 Hand
                 ?
              
               
                 Joy
                 ,
                 watch
                 ,
                 with
                 Jealousie
                 ,
                 most
                 safely
                 keeps
              
            
             
               
                 Their
                 feet
                 who
                 walk
                 through
                 such
                 misterious
                 deeps
                 .
              
               
                 Sweet
                 Soul
                 ,
                 for
                 you
                 is
                 prayd
                 in
                 early
                 dayes
                 ,
              
               
                 What
                 Israel's
                 singer
                 upon
                 high
                 did
                 raise
              
               
                 Their
                 mirth
                 and
                 musick
                 who
                 bare
                 conquering
                 palms
              
               
                 Prompted
                 to
                 sing
                 the
                 Lamb's
                 and
                 Moses
                 Psalms
                 ;
              
               
                 Which
                 none
                 but
                 Zions
                 Virgins
                 can
                 acquire
                 ,
              
               
                 Tun'd
                 to
                 the
                 sacred
                 Evangeli●k
                 lyre
              
            
             
             
               May
               your
               dear
               Soul
               the
               power
               and
               vertue
               find
            
             
               Of
               that
               great
               Compact
               which
               your
               song
               doth
               mind
               ;
            
             
               How
               neer
               how
               pure
               the
               blood
               of
               sprinkling
               makes
               ,
            
             
               What
               glorious
               priviledge
               the
               Saint
               partakes
               .
            
             
               What
               helps
               to
               holiness
               it
               brings
               to
               hand
               ,
            
             
               On
               what
               firm
               Basis
               all
               his
               comforts
               stand
               ;
            
             
               What
               grounds
               for
               constant
               triumph
               it
               affords
               ,
            
             
               What
               sweet
               ingagements
               ,
               still
               to
               be
               the
               Lords
               ;
            
             
               What
               blessed
               prospects
               through
               these
               clouds
               it
               gives
            
             
               To
               Zions
               joy
               ,
               that
               its
               redeemer
               lives
               :
            
             
               And
               that
               he
               hasts
               to
               pluck
               from
               Satan's
               jaws
               ,
            
             
               And
               give
               reviving
               to
               his
               blessed
               cause
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             A
             Friend
             his
             Offer
             towards
             the
             preserving
             The
             remembrance
             of
             that
             faithful
             servant
             of
             Christ
             John
             (
             e
             )
             Edwards
             junior
             ,
             who
             died
             in
             the
             Prison
             of
             Exon.
             the
             27th
             .
             year
             of
             his
             age
             .
          
           
             
               John
               (
               e
               )
               Edwards
               .
               Anagram
               .
               Inward
               He
               do's
               or
               ,
               He
               Do's
               Inward
               .
            
             
               WHen
               Satan
               shuts
               up
               Saints
               
                 in
                 ward
              
               ,
               his
               might
            
             
               Is
               bent
               to
               quench
               ,
               at
               least
               ,
               obscure
               their
               light
               ,
            
             
               To
               quel
               their
               spirits
               ,
               to
               distract
               their
               mind
            
             
               That
               they
               no
               heart
               no
               hand
               for
               work
               should
               find
               .
            
             
               But
               here
               's
               a
               Conquerer
               in
               spight
               of
               foes
            
             
               His
               fathers
               business
               ,
               though
               in
               
                 Ward
                 He
                 Does
              
               :
            
             
               
                 He
                 Does
              
               much
               inward
               work
               ,
               he
               writes
               ,
               Prays
               ,
               Pre●ches
               ;
            
             
               The
               saints
               and
               sinners
               ,
               through
               his
               grate
               he
               reaches
               .
            
             
               Nay
               still
               he
               speaks
               :
               It
               don't
               that
               work
               obstruct
               ,
            
             
               Though
               ,
               from
               his
               prison
               ,
               he
               to
               reign
               be
               pluckt
               ,
            
             
               This
               voids
               that
               argument
               ,
               we
               must
               comply
               ,
            
             
               Or
               ,
               if
               in
               bonds
               ,
               must
               cease
               our
               Ministry
               .
            
          
           
             
               John
               (
               e
               )
               Edwards
               Anagram
               .
               He
               'd
               draw
               Sion
               ,
               He
               'd
               Sion
               ward
               .
            
             
             
               From
               Hell's
               black
               region
               yea
               through
               Sinai's
               shade
            
             
               New
               covenant
               conduct
               plain
               his
               passage
               made
               :
            
             
               From
               threatned
               strokes
               ,
               which
               wisely
               he
               foresaw
               ,
            
             
               And
               from
               sins
               hastening
               them
               
                 He
                 'd
                 Sion
                 draw
              
               :
            
             
               
                 He
                 'd
                 draw
              
               souls
               
                 Sion
                 ward
              
               ,
               with
               dexterous
               art
            
             
               Inform
               their
               Judgments
               ,
               then
               attract
               their
               heart
               .
            
             
               His
               worth
               and
               Sions
               lyes
               not
               much
               obscur'd
               ?
            
             
               Well
               ,
               though
               he
               liv'd
               contemn'd
               ,
               and
               dy'd
               immur'd
            
             
               When
               Jesus
               comes
               ,
               he
               'l
               in
               his
               Lot
               remain
               :
            
             
               He
               slept
               to
               wake
               ,
               he
               died
               to
               live
               again
               .
            
          
           
             
               Johannes
               Edwardus
               Anagram
               .
               Heav'nd
               Sion-wards
               .
            
             
               THis
               serious
               Sionist
               his
               race
               pursues
               ;
            
             
               whilst
               young
               men
               languish
               ,
               still
               his
               strength
               renews
               .
            
             
               Through
               Bacahs
               vale
               ,
               he
               plyes
               from
               strength
               to
               strength
               ,
            
             
               To
               appear
               in
               Sion
               is
               his
               scope
               at
               length
               .
            
             
               With
               Princely
               staves
               ,
               He
               (
               slighting
               carnal
               tools
               )
            
             
               Digs
               pits
               on
               earth
               ,
               Heaven
               daily
               fils
               his
               pools
               .
            
             
               In
               this
               his
               progress
               through
               the
               Kings-high-way
            
             
               He
               meets
               with
               
                 heaven
                 ,
                 heaven
              
               meets
               him
               day
               by
               day
               :
            
             
               Till
               of
               a
               suddain
               midst
               his
               travelling
               night
               .
            
             
               An
               Heavenly
               Chariot
               caught
               him
               out
               of
               sight
               .
            
             
               Ah
               wretched
               I
               !
               how
               Earth
               my
               course
               retards
               ;
            
             
               Lord
               let
               me
               be
               as
               he
               ,
               
                 Heav'n'd
                 Sion-wards
              
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Upon
             the
             Grave-stone
             of
             Anastis
             Mayow
             and
             her
             Child
             laid
             in
             the
             same
             Grave
             in
             Dartmouth
             ,
          
           
             
               Anastis
               Mayow
               Anagram
               .
               Aim
               at
               Sions
               way
               .
            
             
               Till
               Jesus
               comes
               ,
               this
               bed
               the
               dust
               contains
            
             
               Of
               a
               sweet
               Sionist
               ,
               discharg'd
               from
               pains
               .
            
             
               Whose
               aim
               at
               
                 Sions
                 way
              
               ,
               was
               took
               aright
               :
            
             
               That
               path
               she
               travel'd
               ,
               with
               increasing
               might
               :
            
             
               That
               race
               she
               finish'd
               in
               her
               youthfulday
               .
            
             
               Though
               dead
               ,
               she
               speaketh
               :
               
                 Aim
                 at
                 Sions
                 way
              
               .
            
             
             
               On
               her
               young
               Child
               dying
               shortly
               after
               .
            
             
               SPectators
               !
               Heed
               death's
               quick
               pursuit
               ,
            
             
               But
               now
               the
               Tree
               ,
               and
               now
               the
               fruit
               :
            
             
               Yet
               his
               attempts
               are
               all
               but
               vain
               ,
            
             
               For
               Tree
               and
               Fruit
               shall
               spring
               again
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             On
             Mr.
             Fowler
             of
             Lime
             and
             his
             Wife
             .
          
           
             
               William
               Fowler
               Anagram
               .
               Worm
               will
               fail
               .
            
             
               WHat
               's
               man
               at
               best
               ?
               a
               worm
               .
               Can
               worms
               avail
            
             
               About
               eternal
               things
               ?
               A
               
                 worm
                 will
                 fail
              
               .
            
             
               Mortals
               ,
               be
               warn'd
               by
               me
               ,
               reclaim
               your
               trust
            
             
               From
               man
               ,
               a
               worm
               ,
               reducible
               to
               dust
               .
            
          
           
             
               Martha
               Fowler
               Anagram
               .
               The
               formal
               War.
               
            
             
               TWixt
               flesh
               and
               spirit
               once
               in
               me
               ,
            
             
               the
               formal
               war
               was
               raised
               :
            
             
               Now
               grace
               hath
               got
               the
               victory
               ,
            
             
               the
               Blessed
               God
               be
               praised
               !
            
             
               The
               triumphs
               of
               the
               Crowning
               day
            
             
               with
               Jesus
               are
               not
               far
               :
            
             
               Let
               nothing
               (
               Saints
               )
               your
               faith
               dismay
               ,
            
             
               
                 nor
                 dread
              
               the
               formal
               War.
               
            
          
        
         
           
             In
             memory
             of
             that
             servant
             of
             Christ
             ,
             Ed.
             Cock
             of
             Plym
             .
             Who
             rested
             from
             his
             labours
             
               the
               23d
               .
               of
               the
               5th
               .
               Month
               1666.
               
            
          
           
             
               Edward
               Cock
               Anagram
               .
               A
               dewed
               Rock
               .
            
             
               IF
               
               Rizoah's
               offer
               from
               her
               Princely
               mind
               ,
            
             
               Such
               Royal
               favour
               did
               with
               David
               find
               ;
            
             
               When
               she
               ,
               with
               tears
               and
               tenderness
               ,
               had
               spread
            
             
               A
               sable
               sackcloth
               to
               conceal
               the
               dead
               ▪
            
             
             
               Nay
               ,
               clad
               with
               this
               attire
               the
               mournful
               Rock
               ,
            
             
               Where
               hung
               the
               Off-spring
               of
               
               Saul's
               Royal
               stock
               ,
            
             
               From
               Birds
               and
               Beasts
               ,
               them
               day
               and
               night
               to
               keep
            
             
               Till
               from
               above
               the
               cloudes
               on
               them
               did
               weep
            
             
               Nay
               ,
               till
               their
               bones
               the
               Kings
               command
               did
               gather
            
             
               And
               lay
               in
               state
               and
               honor
               with
               their
               father
               :
            
             
               Till
               Harvest's
               end
               ,
               till
               three
               years
               famine
               cease
               ,
            
             
               Till
               God
               was
               pacifi'd
               ,
               the
               Land
               at
               Peace
               .
            
             
               Why
               may
               not
               I
               at
               least
               allowed
               be
            
             
               This
               Paper
               Canopie
               to
               spread
               on
               thee
               ?
            
             
               Dear
               Heaven-born
               ,
               Royally
               descended
               Cock
            
             
               Not
               to
               obscure
               thee
               ,
               nor
               
                 thy
                 dewed
                 Rock
              
               .
            
             
               Thou
               art
               secured
               ,
               in
               a
               better
               way
               ,
            
             
               From
               teeth
               or
               claws
               of
               birds
               ,
               or
               beasts
               of
               prey
               ;
            
             
               From
               strife
               of
               tongues
               ,
               and
               from
               the
               foot
               of
               pride
            
             
               Thy
               Fathers
               Royal
               secret
               tent
               doth
               hide
               .
            
             
               As
               for
               the
               Rock
               ,
               whereon
               thou
               end'st
               thy
               dayes
               ,
            
             
               It
               s
               none
               of
               
                 Gilboa's
                 the
                 Dew
              
               bewrayes
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               roots
               were
               watered
               ,
               though
               to
               stones
               they
               clung
            
             
               And
               all
               night
               long
               dew
               on
               thy
               branches
               hung
               .
            
             
               Thy
               sleece
               with
               drops
               was
               filled
               from
               on
               high
               ,
            
             
               When
               round
               about
               ,
               the
               parched
               ground
               was
               dry
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               still
               as
               
               Jacobs
               ●ountain
               dropt
               on
               thee
            
             
               At
               second
               hand
               they
               ●ound
               should
               dewed
               be
               .
            
             
               From
               thence
               thy
               first
               and
               latter
               rain
               did
               drop
               .
            
             
               Which
               fill'd
               thy
               ears
               ,
               and
               so
               inrich'd
               thy
               crop
               .
            
             
               Thy
               ear-ripe
               harvest
               God's
               command
               did
               shew
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               shouldst
               be
               blessed
               with
               mount
               Zions
               dew
               .
            
             
               On
               ●his
               high
               Rock
               where
               thou
               wert
               made
               to
               ride
               ,
            
             
               Honey
               and
               butter
               flow'd
               on
               every
               side
               .
            
             
               This
               strong
               munition
               did
               thy
               peace
               secure
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               bread
               was
               given
               thee
               ,
               and
               thy
               water
               sure
               .
            
             
               Thy
               sepulcher
               thou
               in
               this
               Rock
               didst
               hew
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               still
               remain'st
               ;
               
                 as
                 dew
              
               of
               herbs
               thy
               dew
               .
            
             
               Thy
               flesh
               abides
               in
               hope
               ,
               though
               't
               dwell
               in
               dust
               ;
            
             
               With
               Christ's
               dead
               Body
               ,
               rise
               and
               sing
               it
               must
               .
            
             
               It
               's
               but
               a
               little
               while
               ,
               untill
               the
               King
            
             
               Shall
               make
               the
               dwellers
               of
               this
               Rock
               to
               sing
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             A
             friendly
             attempt
             to
             call
             to
             remembrance
             the
             precious
             Saviour
             of
             that
             gracious
             Soul
             ,
             Mrs.
             Margaret
             Trenick
             ,
             late
             wife
             of
             Mr.
             Thomas
             Trenick
             ,
             of
             Plymouth
             :
             who
             departed
             this
             life
             the
             30th
             .
             day
             of
             the
             second
             ●lmth
             (
             vul
             .
             January
             )
             Anno
             1665
             ,
             being
             the
             27th
             .
             year
             of
             her
             age
             .
             Psal
             .
             12.
             1.
             
          
           
             
               Margaret
               Trenick
               ,
               Anagram
               Art
               creating
               meeker
               .
            
             
               
                 My
                 slumbring
                 Muse
                 hath
                 me
                 invited
                 ,
              
               
                 A
                 song
                 with
                 sighs
                 in
                 hand
                 to
                 take
                 :
              
               
                 But
                 with
                 such
                 work
                 not
                 much
                 delighted
                 ,
              
               
                 She
                 shrunk
                 and
                 slunk
                 ,
                 escapes
                 to
                 make
                 :
              
               
                 Great
                 indisposedness
                 appears
              
               
                 In
                 mind
                 and
                 Members
                 to
                 this
                 thing
                 ;
              
               
                 Yea
                 ●hrongs
                 of
                 doubtings
                 ,
                 clouds
                 ,
                 and
                 fears
                 ,
              
               
                 Discouraging
                 excuses
                 bring
                 .
              
               
                 But
                 under
                 great
                 ingagements
                 I
                 'le
                 go
                 seek
                 her
                 ,
              
               
                 For
                 thy
                 sweet
                 sake
                 who
                 art
                 creating
                 meeker
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 But
                 Oh
                 ,
                 How
                 treat
                 of
                 Christ
                 can
                 I
                 ?
              
               
                 Or
                 of
                 his
                 Grace-begetting
                 write
                 ?
              
               
                 Creating
                 is
                 a
                 Theam
                 too
                 high
                 ,
              
               
                 Unless
                 th'
                 Anointing
                 all
                 indite
                 .
              
               
                 Besides
                 ,
                 it
                 is
                 a
                 sight
                 so
                 ●are
              
               
                 To
                 see
                 
                 Creating-grace
                 display
              
               
                 The
                 Everlasting
                 Arm
                 made
                 Bare
                 ,
              
               
                 Who
                 will
                 believe
                 in
                 it
                 one
                 day
                 !
              
               
                 Becomes
                 me
                 best
                 ,
                 to
                 own
                 my self
                 a
                 seeker
                 ,
              
               
                 Can
                 this
                 thing
                 be
                 ?
                 Thou
                 art
                 creating
                 meeker
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 But
                 when
                 I
                 fix
                 my
                 serious
                 thought
              
               
                 Upon
                 the
                 task
                 I
                 'm
                 undertaking
                 ;
              
               
                 A
                 lively
                 instance
                 forth
                 is
                 brought
                 ,
              
               
                 Of
                 a
                 meek
                 soul
                 ,
                 
                   yet
                   meeker
                   making
                
              
               
               
                 A
                 Lamb-like
                 temper
                 at
                 the
                 first
              
               
                 In
                 nature
                 beautifi'd
                 her
                 morn
                 ;
              
               
                 But
                 't
                 was
                 not
                 Adam
                 form'd
                 of
                 dust
                 ,
              
               
                 Whose
                 meekness
                 could
                 her
                 Soul
                 adorn
                 :
              
               
                 Till
                 Christ
                 in
                 meekness
                 comes
                 ,
                 himself
                 to
                 seek
                 her
                 ,
              
               
                 And
                 speaks
                 with
                 power
                 ,
                 Thou
                 are
                 creating
                 meeker
                 ,
              
            
             
               
                 This
                 new-Creation
                 progress
                 found
                 ,
              
               
                 From
                 strength
                 to
                 strengh
                 by
                 meekning
                 grace
                 ;
              
               
                 By
                 oppositions
                 gaining
                 ground
              
               
                 Till
                 she
                 had
                 finished
                 her
                 race
                 .
              
               
                 Through
                 soul
                 distresses
                 ,
                 doubts
                 ,
                 delays
                 ,
              
               
                 Which
                 others
                 meekness
                 oft
                 times
                 tire
                 ;
              
               
                 She
                 meekly
                 walkt
                 to
                 Christs
                 high
                 Praise
              
               
                 Her
                 meekness
                 ,
                 by
                 these
                 steps
                 got
                 higher
                 .
              
               
                 Nay
                 when
                 grim
                 death
                 to
                 ruine
                 all
                 did
                 seek
                 her
                 ,
              
               
                 This
                 truth
                 was
                 seal'd
                 ,
                 Th'
                 art
                 yet
                 creating
                 meeker
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               Margaret
               Trenick
               Anagram
               Greater
               Mercie
               tak'n
               .
            
             
               
                 While
                 earth's
                 foundations
                 cannot
                 stand
                 ,
              
               
                 while
                 powers
                 of
                 heaven
                 are
                 shaken
                 ;
              
               
                 Me
                 God
                 hath
                 from
                 great
                 plagues
                 at
                 hand
                 ,
              
               
                 In
                 greater
                 Mercy
                 taken
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 Friends
                 ,
                 do
                 not
                 grieve
                 ,
                 then
                 that
                 by
                 me
              
               
                 this
                 wretched
                 worlds
                 forsaken
                 ;
              
               
                 Here
                 to
                 be
                 left
                 might
                 mercie
                 be
                 ,
              
               
                 But
                 greater
                 Mercy
                 taken
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 In
                 dust
                 I
                 sleep
                 now
                 freed
                 from
                 tears
                 ,
              
               
                 But
                 shortly
                 shall
                 awaken
                 :
              
               
                 And
                 shall
                 be
                 ,
                 when
                 my
                 Christ
                 appears
                 ,
              
               
                 In
                 greater
                 Mercy
                 taken
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 Ye
                 might
                 have
                 one
                 day
                 wept
                 to
                 see
              
               
                 Me
                 sigh
                 ,
                 as
                 one
                 forsaken
                 ;
              
               
                 But
                 now
                 ,
                 Triumph
                 that
                 Christ
                 hath
                 me
              
               
                 To
                 Greater
                 Mercy
                 taken
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
             
               Margaret
               Trenick
               .
               Anagram
               Mark
               retreating
               .
            
             
               
                 The
                 blessed
                 subject
                 of
                 this
                 mournful
                 verse
                 ,
              
               
                 Transcends
                 my
                 skill
                 ,
                 her
                 praises
                 to
                 reherse
                 .
              
               
                 The
                 lively
                 grace
                 which
                 in
                 her
                 youth
                 did
                 shine
                 ,
              
               
                 Reflects
                 convictions
                 on
                 this
                 Soul
                 of
                 mine
                 .
              
               
                 How
                 short
                 of
                 her
                 I
                 am
                 in
                 patient
                 waiting
                 ,
              
               
                 And
                 how
                 unskil'd
                 ,
                 aright
                 
                   to
                   make
                   retreating
                
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 This
                 age
                 of
                 deep
                 revolt
                 from
                 truths
                 profest
                 ,
              
               
                 Made
                 sad
                 impressions
                 on
                 her
                 heaven-born
                 brest
                 ;
              
               
                 Such
                 as
                 bespoke
                 her
                 ,
                 griev'd
                 in
                 heart
                 to
                 see
              
               
                 Gods
                 name
                 blasphem'd
                 (
                 by
                 seeming
                 Saints
                 )
                 to
                 be
                 ▪
              
               
                 This
                 broke
                 her
                 sleep
                 ,
                 and
                 mixt
                 with
                 tears
                 her
                 eating
              
               
                 To
                 mark
                 the
                 madness
                 of
                 this
                 times
                 retreating
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 It
                 s
                 true
                 ,
                 she
                 talkt
                 not
                 much
                 ,
                 made
                 little
                 noise
                 ,
              
               
                 Her
                 closet-Friend
                 ,
                 she
                 chose
                 should
                 hear
                 her
                 voice
                 :
              
               
                 But
                 her
                 whole
                 walk
                 with
                 God
                 ,
                 and
                 man
                 bewray'd
              
               
                 Heart
                 full
                 to
                 matter
                 ,
                 Though
                 not
                 much
                 she
                 said
                 .
              
               
                 For
                 hers
                 and
                 others
                 Souls
                 her
                 heart
                 was
                 beating
                 ,
              
               
                 To
                 mark
                 the
                 steps
                 and
                 issues
                 of
                 retreating
                 .
              
               
                 She
                 chose
                 to
                 walk
                 a
                 mournful
                 softly
                 pace
                 ,
              
               
                 Weeping
                 while
                 waiting
                 for
                 her
                 Father's
                 face
                 ;
              
               
                 Sharp
                 sickness
                 seal'd
                 home
                 love
                 ,
                 but
                 seaz'd
                 her
                 life
                 ,
              
               
                 Once
                 a
                 choice
                 Virgin
                 ,
                 Then
                 a
                 faithful
                 Wife
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 Both
                 life
                 and
                 death
                 ,
                 this
                 Anagram
                 repeating
                 ,
              
               
                 Behold
                 the
                 uprights
                 end
                 ,
                 but
                 
                   mark
                   retreating
                
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 Margaret
                 Trenick
                 ,
                 Anagram
                 King
                 rare
                 matter
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               A
               Dialogue
               betwixt
               a
               Querist
               ,
               and
               her
               Answer
               .
            
             
               
                 Querist
                 .
              
               
                 Dear
                 heart
                 !
                 while
                 living
                 ,
                 Grace
                 did
                 much
                 appear
              
               
                 In
                 thy
                 slow
                 speaking
                 ,
                 who
                 wert
                 quick
                 to
                 hear
                 ,
              
               
               
                 But
                 more
                 ,
                 when
                 death
                 did
                 thy
                 crackt
                 pi●cher
                 break
              
               
                 Thy
                 lamp
                 shines
                 brightest
                 &
                 thou
                 dead
                 dost
                 speak
                 .
              
               
                 In
                 this
                 I
                 acquiesce
                 ,
                 yet
                 fain
                 would
                 know
              
               
                 Why
                 wert
                 so
                 mute
                 ,
                 why
                 too
                 good
                 speech
                 so
                 slow
                 ?
              
            
             
               
                 Answer
                 .
              
               
                 The
                 Tempter
                 on
                 my
                 Temper
                 might
                 prevail
                 ,
              
               
                 Some
                 needful
                 teaching
                 sometimes
                 to
                 conceal
              
               
                 Pretending
                 ease
                 ,
                 yet
                 brought
                 no
                 solid
                 rest
                 ;
              
               
                 The
                 fire
                 increasing
                 in
                 my
                 panting
                 brest
                 .
              
               
                 Which
                 rais'd
                 rebukes
                 ,
                 convictions
                 ,
                 griefs
                 ,
                 so
                 high
                 ,
              
               
                 As
                 found
                 no
                 vent
                 but
                 through
                 a
                 weeping
                 eye
                 ,
              
            
             
               
                 Quest
                 .
              
               
                 Was
                 't
                 all
                 and
                 only
                 thy
                 temptations
                 then
              
               
                 Thou
                 wert
                 so
                 mute
                 among
                 the
                 Sons
                 of
                 men
                 ?
              
               
                 So
                 scarcely
                 sociable
                 ,
                 so
                 retir'd
              
               
                 As
                 made
                 converse
                 with
                 thee
                 not
                 much
                 desir'd
                 ?
              
               
                 Thy
                 lips
                 allow'd
                 thy
                 heart
                 so
                 little
                 vent
                 ,
              
               
                 That
                 few
                 could
                 fathom
                 what
                 thy
                 musing
                 meant
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 Ans
                 .
              
               
                 Nay
                 sometimes
                 reasoning
                 of
                 a
                 higher
                 kind
                 ,
              
               
                 Did
                 that
                 way
                 Byass
                 my
                 poor
                 pausing
                 mind
                 ;
              
               
                 I
                 view'd
                 and
                 wept
                 on
                 a
                 〈◊〉
                 age
                 ,
              
               
                 That
                 talkt
                 〈…〉
                 a
                 sta●ely
                 stage
                 :
              
               
                 But
                 so
                 reproacht
                 it
                 by
                 unworthy
                 walking
                 ,
              
               
                 As
                 made
                 me
                 dread
                 their
                 fellowship
                 in
                 talking
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 Quest
                 .
              
               
                 But
                 why
                 among
                 the
                 S●●nts
                 ,
                 thy
                 dear
                 delight
                 ,
              
               
                 Wert
                 so
                 reserved
                 ,
                 if
                 not
                 silent
                 quite
                 ?
              
               
                 Their
                 gracio●●
                 speeches
                 drop
                 as
                 generous
                 wine
                 ,
              
               
                 yet
                 might
                 have
                 been
                 more
                 spic'd
                 &
                 warm'd
                 by
                 thine
              
               
                 'T
                 is
                 wisdoms
                 way
                 these
                 waters
                 deep
                 to
                 draw
                 ,
              
               
                 By
                 frequent
                 speakings
                 ,
                 yet
                 with
                 holy
                 awe
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 Ans
                 .
              
               
                 Besides
                 the
                 T●mpter's
                 wiles
                 ,
                 I
                 oft
                 bethought
                 ,
              
               
                 How
                 ●gnorant
                 I
                 was
                 ,
                 what
                 need
                 be
                 taught
                 ;
              
               
                 How
                 ●ittle
                 I
                 could
                 speak
                 to
                 others
                 gain
                 ,
              
               
                 How
                 I
                 had
                 spoke
                 already
                 much
                 in
                 vain
                 ,
              
               
                 Then
                 begg'd
                 a
                 bridle
                 on
                 my
                 lips
                 might
                 be
                 .
              
               
                 Lest
                 I
                 should
                 speak
                 what
                 was
                 not
                 wrought
                 in
                 me
                 .
              
            
             
               
               
                 Querist
                 .
              
               
                 It
                 's
                 true
                 ,
                 their
                 talk
                 involves
                 both
                 guilt
                 and
                 dangers
                 ,
              
               
                 Who
                 boast
                 of
                 grace
                 ,
                 whereto
                 they
                 are
                 but
                 strangers
                 ,
              
               
                 But
                 all
                 who
                 rightly
                 knew
                 thy
                 Soul
                 ,
                 could
                 say
              
               
                 Ther
                 's
                 precious
                 treasure
                 ,
                 though
                 a
                 straightned
                 way
                 .
              
               
                 Nay
                 ,
                 when
                 death
                 seiz'd
                 thee
                 ,
                 and
                 thy
                 strength
                 was
                 spent
                 ,
              
               
                 What
                 glorious
                 matter
                 prest
                 to
                 have
                 a
                 vent
                 !
              
            
             
               
                 Ans
                 .
              
               
                 I
                 must
                 confess
                 (
                 though
                 forth
                 I
                 could
                 not
                 bring
                 )
              
               
                 My
                 heart
                 conceiv'd
                 
                   rare
                   matter
                
                 for
                 the
                 King.
              
               
                 But
                 my
                 conceits
                 were
                 shatter'd
                 ,
                 short
                 ,
                 and
                 bare
              
               
                 Of
                 such
                 high
                 matter
                 ,
                 heavenly-Royal
                 ,
                 rare
                 ,
              
               
                 I
                 could
                 not
                 speak
                 what
                 I
                 was
                 apprehending
                 ,
              
               
                 Until
                 my
                 clouds
                 ,
                 my
                 streights
                 ,
                 &
                 sighs
                 ,
                 were
                 ending
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               Margaret
               Trenick
               Anagram
               .
               Make
               not
               Grace
               retire
               .
            
             
               IF
               this
               Saint's
               name
               ,
               inverted
               thus
               ,
               affords
            
             
               Such
               choice
               variety
               of
               teaching
               words
               ;
            
             
               What
               would
               her
               nature
               ,
               her
               new
               nature
               ,
               yield
               ;
            
             
               Had
               we
               traversed
               that
               sweet-smelling
               field
               ?
            
             
               But
               since
               with
               gravity
               it
               was
               inclos'd
            
             
               Not
               seeking
               entrance
               ,
               most
               its
               profit
               los'd
               .
            
             
               Such
               bosome
               friends
               as
               did
               that
               key
               acquire
            
             
               Found
               deeply
               graven
               ,
               
                 Make
                 not
                 grace
                 retire
              
               .
            
             
               Above
               the
               rest
               ,
               her
               yoak-fellow
               is
               left
            
             
               To
               wail
               with
               bitterness
               ,
               as
               one
               bereft
            
             
               Of
               a
               choice
               Jewel
               ,
               whose
               rare
               vertues
               lay
            
             
               In
               Bosome-strengthnings
               ,
               through
               Christs
               hated-way
               .
            
             
               Her
               heavenly
               arguments
               ,
               in
               secret
               dropt
               ,
            
             
               His
               fainting
               soul
               hath
               oft
               with
               Courage
               propt
               .
            
             
               When
               he
               ran
               hazards
               ,
               still
               did
               her
               desire
            
             
               
                 Keep
                 conscience
                 tender
              
               ,
               Make
               not
               grace
               retire
               .
            
             
               Consult
               not
               wife
               and
               children
               ,
               would
               she
               say
               ;
            
             
               Though
               we
               beg
               with
               you
               ,
               in
               the
               Kings-high-way
               ▪
            
             
               Be●ray
               not
               any
               truth
               what'ere
               't
               would
               get
               you
               ,
            
             
               Desert
               no
               station
               where
               the
               Lord
               hath
               set
               you
               .
            
             
             
               Great
               sufferings
               rather
               choose
               ,
               then
               little
               on
               ;
            
             
               A
               little
               spark
               may
               dreadful
               flames
               begin
               ,
            
             
               Set
               soveraign
               pleasure
               in
               dominion
               higher
               :
            
             
               Though
               nature
               startle
               ,
               
                 Make
                 not
                 grace
                 retire
                 ▪
              
            
             
               Such
               words
               of
               wisdom
               ,
               dropt
               in
               gracious
               cools
               ,
            
             
               Speak
               louder
               than
               the
               cry
               that
               reigns
               with
               fools
               ,
            
             
               When
               husband
               slept
               ,
               the
               pantings
               of
               her
               breast
               ,
            
             
               In
               frequent
               travail
               ,
               held
               her
               eyes
               from
               rest
               .
            
             
               For
               clearer
               sealings
               of
               her
               father's
               love
               ,
            
             
               For
               Sion's
               showrs
               ,
               and
               shinings
               from
               above
               .
            
             
               She
               durst
               not
               grieve
               ,
               the
               spirit
               quench
               his
               fire
               ,
            
             
               Not
               make
               the
               least
               true
               grace
               
                 of
                 his
                 retire
              
               .
            
             
               At
               last
               ,
               she
               best
               appear'd
               on
               fiery
               tests
               ,
            
             
               When
               bonds
               ,
               her
               Husband
               ;
               Death
               ,
               her self
               arrests
               .
            
             
               When
               stript
               of
               strength
               being
               forc't
               her
               husband
               left
               her
            
             
               Of
               all
               three
               sons
               her
               father
               had
               bereft
               her
               .
            
             
               When
               friends
               stood
               trembling
               grace
               such
               beams
               did
               dart
            
             
               As
               rais'd
               with
               triumph
               fil'd
               with
               joy
               her
               heart
               .
            
             
               These
               first
               fruits
               of
               the
               Kingdom
               ,
               set
               her
               higher
            
             
               Than
               that
               the
               tempter
               should
               
                 make
                 grace
                 retire
              
               .
            
             
               Sweet
               Soul
               !
               She
               now
               a
               glorious
               rest
               obtains
            
             
               From
               all
               her
               outward
               pangs
               ,
               her
               inward
               paines
               .
            
             
               Relation
               dues
               she
               long'd
               so
               to
               perform
               .
            
             
               As
               griev'd
               to
               leave
               him
               in
               this
               dismal
               storm
               .
            
             
               They
               cease
               to
               bind
               her
               :
               These
               cares
               ended
               are
               :
            
             
               To
               be
               with
               Jesus
               she
               finds
               better
               fare
               .
            
             
               To
               such
               rare
               patterns
               might
               my
               soul
               aspire
               !
            
             
               Not
               grieving
               Christ
               ,
               
                 Not
                 making
                 grace
                 retire
              
               .
            
          
           
             
               An
               Epitaph
               .
            
             
               GIve
               heed
               ,
               Spectators
               :
               In
               this
               grave
               's
               invol'd
            
             
               A
               costly
               Cabinet
               to
               be
               dissolv'd
               ;
            
             
               With
               wondrous
               wisdom
               richly
               rarely
               wrought
               ,
            
             
               And
               by
               great
               exercises
               aptly
               brought
            
             
               To
               lodge
               ,
               subserve
               ,
               and
               openly
               to
               tender
            
             
               An
               heavenly
               Jewel
               ,
               this
               age
               rich
               to
               render
               .
            
             
               But
               it
               s
               new
               workmanship
               in
               worth
               did
               rise
               it
               .
            
             
               To
               such
               vast
               value
               this
               world
               could
               not
               prize
               it
               .
            
             
             
               They'd
               foils
               indeed
               ,
               to
               shade
               it
               wisely
               set
               ,
            
             
               And
               on
               its
               outside
               some
               distempers
               met
               :
            
             
               On
               which
               the
               world
               did
               with
               contempt
               insist
               ,
            
             
               Till
               their
               enriching
               maket-time
               they
               mist
               .
            
             
               So
               little
               knows
               this
               crooked
               generation
            
             
               Their
               things
               for
               Peace
               ,
               or
               dayes
               of
               Visitation
               :
            
             
               Like
               them
               of
               old
               ,
               cry
               ,
               Barrabas
               set
               free
               ,
            
             
               Dispatch
               the
               Heir
               ,
               the
               vineyard
               ours
               shall
               be
               ▪
            
             
               But
               the
               great
               owner
               marks
               not
               jealous
               eyes
            
             
               This
               age's
               aptitude
               to
               slight
               ,
               despise
               ,
            
             
               And
               scorn
               his
               renders
               of
               the
               richest
               gem
               ,
            
             
               Crown-Jewels
               ,
               nay
               the
               royal
               diadem
               ;
            
             
               And
               vext
               to
               see
               in
               this
               provoking
               world
               ,
            
             
               His
               precious
               treasure
               basely
               kick't
               and
               hurl'd
               .
            
             
               Determines
               ,
               Earth's
               not
               worthie
               to
               contain
            
             
               His
               Royal
               retinue
               his
               Princely
               train
            
             
               Or
               these
               rich
               treasures
               which
               they
               gladly
               bring
               ,
            
             
               And
               freely
               offer
               to
               endear
               their
               King.
            
             
               In
               wrath
               he
               seems
               to
               speak
               ,
               my
               Saints
               ,
               retire
            
             
               To
               your
               strong
               Tower
               ,
               from
               my
               approaching
               Ire
               ;
            
             
               Come
               draw
               off
               from
               the
               gap
               ,
               desert
               the
               breach
               ,
            
             
               Let
               me
               and
               them
               alone
               :
               To
               pray
               ,
               to
               preach
               ,
            
             
               Reprove
               ,
               or
               witness
               in
               the
               gate
               's
               ,
               a
               crime
               .
            
             
               Prudent
               ,
               keep
               silence
               ,
               't
               is
               an
               evil
               time
               :
            
             
               In
               Deps
               and
               caves
               a
               remnant
               I
               will
               hide
               ,
            
             
               In
               Prison
               holes
               some
               precious
               ones
               shall
               bide
               :
            
             
               Some
               from
               their
               homes
               and
               land
               dispell'd
               shall
               be
               ,
            
             
               To
               bear
               a
               witness
               ,
               and
               stand
               ground
               for
               me
               .
            
             
               But
               ,
               from
               your
               usefulness
               to
               this
               vile
               age
            
             
               More
               then
               to
               shew
               their
               sin
               ,
               disclose
               their
               rage
               ,
            
             
               And
               aggravate
               their
               Judgment
               ,
               I
               discharge
               you
            
             
               Yet
               in
               due
               season
               I
               le
               again
               enlarge
               you
               .
            
             
               Nay
               ,
               strange
               not
               ,
               If
               I
               gather
               from
               your
               sight
            
             
               Some
               gems
               of
               honour
               ,
               stones
               of
               great
               delight
               .
            
             
               I
               break
               and
               hide
               my
               Cabinet
               in
               dust
               ,
            
             
               Transfer
               my
               jewels
               where's
               no
               moth
               ,
               nor
               rust
               ;
            
             
               With
               just
               mens
               souls
               in
               light
               to
               set
               them
               down
               ,
            
             
               A
               constellation
               in
               a
               splendid
               Crown
               .
            
             
               Till
               Christ
               appear
               ,
               his
               Jewels
               to
               collect
               ,
            
             
               To
               raise
               his
               dead
               ,
               to
               change
               his
               quick
               elect
               ;
            
             
             
               Their
               spirits
               ,
               souls
               ,
               and
               bodies
               to
               translate
            
             
               In
               blessed
               likeness
               to
               his
               raised
               state
               .
            
             
               The
               King
               of
               glory
               swiftly
               thus
               dispos'd
            
             
               Of
               our
               choice
               Margaret
               not
               yet
               disclos'd
            
             
               In
               her
               inriching
               worthiness
               to
               all
               ,
            
             
               Till
               ,
               
                 Come
                 up
                 hither
              
               ,
               was
               her
               blessed
               Call.
            
             
               Ah
               wretched
               age
               (
               must
               we
               in
               it
               remain
               ?
               )
            
             
               Which
               sins
               away
               such
               Jewels
               ,
               to
               their
               gain
               ,
            
             
               But
               our
               loss
               irreparable
               ;
               unless
            
             
               The
               quickening
               Spirit
               from
               on
               high
               possess
            
             
               The
               Remnant
               that
               is
               left
               ,
               but
               scattered
               lie
            
             
               About
               the
               graves
               ,
               as
               bones
               exceeding
               dry
               .
            
             
               Lord
               hast
               ,
               that
               blessing
               which
               thy
               truth
               contains
            
             
               Of
               its
               descending
               as
               the
               latter
               rains
               ;
            
             
               To
               usher
               in
               the
               glory
               of
               thy
               day
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Kingdom
               come
               !
               Sweet
               Jesus
               ,
               hast
               away
               !
            
          
        
         
           
             In
             Memory
             of
             that
             Example
             of
             the
             grace
             and
             power
             of
             God
             ,
             Caleb
             Vernon
             ,
             who
             departed
             this
             life
             ,
             the
             29.
             day
             of
             the
             9th
             ,
             Month
             1665.
             being
             aged
             twelve
             years
             ,
             and
             six
             months
          
           
             
               Caleb
               Vernon
               Anagram
               Bore
               unclean
               ,
               New
               clean
               Robe
               .
            
             
               
                 Through
                 
                 Adam's
                 nature
                 I
                 unclean
                 was
                 bore
                 ,
              
               
                 Through
                 grace
                 (
                 betimes
                 )
                 Christ's
                 new
                 clean
                 Rebe
                 I
                 wore
                 ,
              
            
             
               BY
               nature
               in
               my
               first
               estate
               ,
            
             
               A
               wretched
               babe
               was
               I
               ;
            
             
               In
               open
               field
               deserving
               hate
               ,
            
             
               In
               bloud
               and
               filth
               did
               lie
               .
            
             
               And
               in
               that
               state
               I
               did
               delight
               ,
            
             
               As
               in
               my
               sport
               and
               play
               ;
            
             
               And
               therein
               would
               with
               all
               my
               might
               ,
            
             
               Have
               wallowed
               night
               and
               day
               ,
            
             
             
               And
               though
               from
               gross
               enormities
               ,
            
             
               I
               might
               by
               men
               be
               clear'd
            
             
               Yet
               to
               my
               maker's
               searching
               eyes
            
             
               Defil'd
               I
               all
               appear'd
               .
            
             
               Though
               nature
               with
               a
               pregnant
               wit
               ,
            
             
               And
               comeliness
               adorn
               me
               ;
            
             
               And
               education
               adds
               to
               it
               ,
            
             
               To
               teach
               ,
               restrain
               ,
               reform
               me
               :
            
             
               What
               prov'd
               it
               but
               deceiving
               paint
            
             
               On
               which
               defiling
               sin
            
             
               It
               did
               not
               kill
               ,
               but
               lay
               restraint
            
             
               Where
               outrage
               would
               begin
               .
            
             
               A
               pleasant
               picture
               to
               the
               eye
            
             
               I
               hereby
               might
               appear
               ;
            
             
               By
               which
               to
               close-Idolatry
               :
            
             
               Some
               might
               be
               drawn
               (
               I
               fear
               )
            
             
               But
               God
               ,
               that
               faithful
               he
               might
               be
            
             
               That
               deadly
               snare
               to
               break
               ,
            
             
               And
               that
               right
               early
               unto
               me
            
             
               He
               grace
               and
               peace
               might
               speak
               :
            
             
               With
               tenderness
               on
               these
               intents
            
             
               He
               strips
               me
               of
               my
               vaile
               ;
            
             
               My
               costly
               coverings
               all
               he
               rents
            
             
               My
               countenance
               makes
               pale
               .
            
             
               My
               comliness
               to
               rot
               he
               turns
            
             
               My
               witty
               words
               to
               groans
               ;
            
             
               My
               moisture
               up
               with
               drought
               he
               burns
               ,
            
             
               Discloseth
               all
               my
               bones
               .
            
             
               And
               in
               a
               day
               of
               publick
               Ire
            
             
               Me
               these
               rebukes
               did
               meet
               ,
            
             
               When
               Pestilence
               as
               burning
               fire
            
             
               flew
               thousands
               at
               his
               feet
               .
            
             
               I
               who
               to
               blossom
               did
               begin
               ,
            
             
               with
               such
               fair
               paint
               before
               ;
            
             
               Now
               as
               the
               early
               fruit
               of
               sin
            
             
               This
               Character
               I
               wore
               .
            
             
               Despised
               Idol
               ,
               broke
               to
               earth
            
             
               A
               Potsheard
               no
               way
               fit
               ,
            
             
               To
               take
               up
               fire
               out
               of
               the
               hearth
               ,
            
             
               Or
               water
               from
               the
               pit
               .
            
             
             
               But
               though
               ,
               neer
               corruptible
               dust
               ,
            
             
               This
               curious
               Frame
               was
               brought
               .
            
             
               By
               gracious
               pleasure
               stay
               it
               must
               ,
            
             
               Till
               nobler
               work
               were
               wrought
               ,
            
             
               Till
               deep
               convictions
               of
               my
               sin
               ,
            
             
               Till
               Jesus
               form'd
               in
               me
               ?
            
             
               Till
               as
               my
               portion
               I
               begin
               ,
            
             
               The
               Lord
               's
               dear
               Christ
               to
               see
               .
            
             
               Till
               all
               my
               sins
               were
               done
               away
               ,
            
             
               Till
               terrours
               made
               me
               cease
               ;
            
             
               Till
               heart
               and
               mind
               could
               sweetly
               stay
            
             
               In
               thought
               surpassing
               peace
               .
            
             
               Nay
               till
               in
               an
               accepted
               day
               ,
            
             
               My
               homage
               I
               could
               bring
               ,
            
             
               And
               in
               his
               instituted
               way
               ,
            
             
               Devote
               me
               to
               the
               King.
            
             
               Till
               Christ
               put
               on
               ,
               his
               works
               allow'd
               ,
            
             
               His
               dying
               marks
               imbrac'd
               ,
            
             
               His
               cause
               confest
               ,
               his
               works
               avow'd
               ,
            
             
               His
               sufferings
               boldly
               fac'd
               .
            
             
               His
               promise
               for
               a
               portion
               took
               ,
            
             
               Saints
               for
               companions
               chose
               .
            
             
               And
               on
               him
               plac'd
               a
               fixed
               look
               ,
            
             
               For
               future
               free
               dispose
               .
            
             
               Since
               then
               in
               an
               unusual
               way
            
             
               Rich
               Grace
               hath
               thus
               array'd
               me
               ;
            
             
               And
               in
               my
               young
               ,
               yet
               dying
               day
               ,
            
             
               With
               glory
               overlay'd
               me
               .
            
             
               What
               properly
               should
               I
               desire
               ,
            
             
               But
               ,
               now
               dissolv'd
               to
               be
               :
            
             
               And
               in
               this
               Marriage-white
               Attire
            
             
               My
               Bride-groom's
               face
               to
               see
               ?
            
             
               In
               Kedar
               who
               would
               not
               bemoan
               ,
            
             
               If
               there
               he
               must
               reside
               .
            
             
               Oh
               wretched
               man
               !
               Who
               would
               not
               groan
               ,
            
             
               In
               sinful
               flesh
               to
               bide
               ;
            
             
               who
               'ld
               lodge
               in
               such
               a
               nasty
               shade
               ,
            
             
               As
               torturing
               tottering
               stands
               ,
            
             
               That
               hath
               a
               palace
               ready
               made
            
             
               Not
               with
               polluted
               hands
               ?
            
             
             
               Where
               sin
               ,
               temptation
               ,
               suffering
               ,
               strife
               ,
            
             
               shall
               fully
               be
               destroyed
               .
            
             
               All-Dying
               ,
               swallow'd
               up
               of
               life
               ,
            
             
               and
               God
               at
               full
               injoy'd
               .
            
             
               What
               ailes
               my
               Parents
               then
               to
               weep
               ,
            
             
               my
               friends
               to
               be
               dismay'd
               ?
            
             
               Relations
               such
               ado
               to
               keep
               ,
            
             
               to
               see
               a
               Child
               unray'd
               ?
            
             
               It
               s
               filthy
               garments
               lay'd
               in
               dust
               ,
            
             
               he
               lay'd
               ,
               repose
               to
               take
               .
            
             
               Untill
               the
               morning
               when
               he
               must
               ,
            
             
               with
               New
               clean
               Robes
               awake
               .
            
             
               May
               this
               a
               witness
               be
               to
               truth
            
             
               in
               this
               back
               sliding
               day
               ,
            
             
               A
               Christal
               mirrour
               unto
               youth
               ,
            
             
               How
               to
               amend
               its
               way
               .
            
             
               Amen
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Verses
             affixed
             to
             the
             wall
             of
             the
             Prison
             ,
             at
             the
             Guild-hall
             in
             Plymouth
             :
             where
             A.
             C.
             was
             detained
             a
             month
             ,
             and
             thence
             sent
             to
             the
             Island
             ,
             the
             27th
             .
             Sept.
             1665.
             
          
           
             NIgh
             four
             years
             since
             ,
             sent
             out
             from
             hence
             ,
          
           
             To
             Exon
             Goal
             was
             I
             ,
          
           
             but
             special
             grace
             in
             three
             months
             space
             ,
          
           
             wrought
             out
             my
             liberty
             .
          
           
             Till
             Bartholomew
             in
             sixy
             two
             ,
          
           
             that
             freedom
             did
             remain
             ;
          
           
             Then
             without
             Bail
             to
             Exon
             Gail
             ,
          
           
             I
             hurried
             was
             again
             .
          
           
             Where
             having
             layn
             ,
             as
             do
             the
             slain
             ,
          
           
             'mong
             dead
             men
             wholly
             free
             ;
          
           
             Full
             three
             years
             space
             ,
             my
             native
             place
             ,
          
           
             By
             leave
             I
             come
             to
             see
             .
          
           
             And
             thought
             not
             then
             ,
             I
             here
             again
             ,
          
           
             a
             months
             restraint
             should
             find
             ,
          
           
             Since
             ,
             to
             my
             Den
             ,
             cast
             out
             from
             men
             ,
          
           
             I
             'm
             during
             life
             design'd
             .
          
           
           
             But
             since
             my
             lines
             the
             Lord
             assigns
             ,
          
           
             In
             such
             a
             lot
             to
             be
             ,
          
           
             I
             kiss
             the
             rod
             ,
             confess
             ,
             my
             God
          
           
             deals
             faithfully
             with
             me
             .
          
           
             My
             charged
             crime
             ,
             in
             his
             due
             time
             ,
          
           
             He
             fully
             will
             decide
             ,
          
           
             And
             until
             then
             ,
             forgiving
             men
             ,
          
           
             In
             peace
             with
             him
             I
             bide
             .
          
        
         
           
             On
             the
             beginning
             of
             his
             recovering
             from
             a
             great
             sickness
             ,
             on
             the
             Island
             of
             Plimouth
             .
          
           
             To
             his
             truly
             Sacred
             Majesty
             ,
             the
             High
             and
             Mighty
             Potentate
             ,
             King
             of
             kings
             ,
             and
             Lord
             of
             lords
             ,
             Prince
             of
             Life
             and
             peace
             ,
             Heir
             of
             all
             things
             ,
             and
             Head
             over
             all
             to
             the
             Church
             .
          
           
             
               The
               humble
               prostrature
               ,
               and
               thankfull
               acknowledgment
               ,
               of
               a
               poor
               Prisoner
               of
               hope
               ,
               whose
               life
               upon
               all
               accompts
               hath
               been
               marvellously
               preserved
               ,
               and
               delivered
               with
               a
               great
               Salvation
               from
               the
               pit
               of
               Corruption
               .
            
          
           
             MOst
             glorious
             Soveraign
             to
             thy
             feet
             is
             brought
             ,
          
           
             The
             trembling
             of
             spring
             of
             a
             contrite
             thought
          
           
             By
             a
             poor
             Captive
             who
             attempts
             to
             raise
             ,
          
           
             An
             Eben-●z●r
             to
             his
             Saviours
             praise
             .
          
           
             A
             lasting
             pillar
             as
             in
             Conscience
             bound
             ,
          
           
             In
             due
             remembrance
             of
             choice
             favours
             found
             ;
          
           
             With
             Grace
             to
             succour
             in
             a
             needful
             hour
             ,
          
           
             From
             death's
             dominion
             ,
             and
             the
             Tempter's
             power
             .
          
           
             But
             when
             thy
             worm
             reflects
             what
             can
             it
             bring
             ,
          
           
             Comporting
             with
             the
             grandeur
             of
             a
             King
             ;
          
           
             Of
             such
             bright
             Majesty
             ,
             as
             Angels
             must
          
           
             Their
             faces
             vaile
             before
             ▪
             shall
             sinful
             dust
          
           
             Have
             bold
             access
             ,
             and
             kind
             acceptance
             meer
             ,
          
           
             For
             self
             and
             service
             at
             thy
             burning
             feet
             ?
          
           
           
             May
             Hair
             ,
             a
             Badgers-skin
             ,
             a
             widows
             mite
             ,
          
           
             From
             willing
             minds
             ,
             find
             favour
             in
             thy
             sight
             ;
          
           
             A
             pair
             of
             pidgeons
             ,
             or
             a
             turtle
             Dove
             ,
          
           
             Find
             kind
             construction
             from
             the
             God
             of
             love
             ?
          
           
             Is
             there
             more
             over-laid
             by
             the
             supply
             ,
          
           
             To
             help
             such
             weakness
             in
             infirmity
             ?
          
           
             A
             costly
             covering
             doth
             thy
             grace
             provide
             ,
          
           
             Their
             blemishes
             to
             vail
             ,
             their
             spots
             to
             hide
             ,
          
           
             Who
             from
             their
             sense
             of
             need
             and
             duty
             bring
          
           
             Their
             lowly
             homage
             to
             their
             lofty
             King
             ?
          
           
             On
             such
             encouragements
             here
             trembling
             stands
             ,
          
           
             A
             contrite
             Waiter
             though
             with
             empty
             hands
             .
          
           
             Whose
             bag
             and
             basket
             speak
             him
             to
             become
             ,
          
           
             More
             like
             a
             begger
             than
             a
             bringer
             home
             ,
          
           
             Who
             though
             he
             aimes
             and
             longs
             in
             this
             address
             ,
          
           
             His
             utmost
             obligations
             to
             express
             .
          
           
             To
             charge
             his
             conscience
             ,
             and
             discharge
             his
             Vow
             ,
          
           
             Abandon
             other
             lords
             ,
             to
             Jesus
             bow
             ;
          
           
             Yet
             finds
             in
             all
             ,
             that
             ,
             void
             of
             Royal
             aid
             ,
          
           
             Nought
             worthy
             of
             thee
             can
             be
             thought
             or
             said
             .
          
           
             Apart
             from
             Christ
             the
             best
             attempts
             (
             alas
             ,
             )
          
           
             Are
             tinkling
             cymbals
             and
             as
             sounding
             brass
             ,
          
           
             Such
             stately
             structures
             prove
             but
             wood
             and
             Hay
             .
          
           
             I'
             th
             Test
             and
             contest
             of
             that
             burning
             day
             ,
          
           
             These
             dear
             experiments
             so
             often
             tri'd
             ;
          
           
             All
             boasting
             confidence
             from
             flesh
             must
             hide
             .
          
           
             Of
             self-sufficiency
             in
             best
             attire
             ,
          
           
             To
             form
             that
             work
             ,
             or
             breath
             but
             that
             desire
             ,
          
           
             Or
             think
             that
             thought
             ,
             that
             can
             in
             justice
             claim
             ,
          
           
             One
             heavenly
             aspect
             on
             its
             act
             or
             aim
             .
          
           
             What
             then
             remaines
             ,
             thy
             worm
             must
             prostate
             fall
             ,
          
           
             While
             sentence
             from
             thy
             presence
             past
             on
             all
             ,
          
           
             Which
             self
             hath
             gloried
             in
             ,
             or
             flesh
             hath
             gain'd
             ,
          
           
             With
             whatsoer'e
             to
             Adam
             appertain'd
             ,
          
           
             His
             wisdom
             ,
             will
             ,
             his
             power
             ,
             Delight
             ,
             Desire
             ,
          
           
             Or
             what
             his
             art
             ,
             or
             industry
             acquire
             ;
          
           
             His
             noblest
             faculties
             ,
             acutest
             parts
             ,
          
           
             His
             liberal
             Sciences
             or
             rarest
             arts
             .
          
           
             Nay
             his
             best
             righteousness
             ,
             his
             all
             in
             all
             ,
          
           
             Must
             be
             resign'd
             ,
             surrendred
             ,
             left
             to
             fall
             ,
          
           
           
             Be
             sentenc'd
             ,
             Crucified
             ,
             Dispoil'd
             ,
             Disgrac'd
             ,
          
           
             And
             at
             the
             feet
             of
             conquering
             Jesus
             plac'd
             ;
          
           
             That
             on
             its
             ruines
             ,
             Gospel-grace
             may
             rear
          
           
             A
             living
             pillar
             ,
             thy
             new
             name
             to
             bear
             .
          
        
         
           
             A
             Mourner's
             mite
             ,
             towards
             the
             right
             Remembrance
             of
             that
             late
             Labourer
             in
             the
             Gospel
             ,
             Thomas
             Glass
             ,
             who
             rested
             from
             his
             work
             on
             earth
             ,
             the
             30th
             .
             day
             of
             the
             7th
             month
             ,
             1666.
             
          
           
             MY
             heart
             with
             grief
             and
             pain
             is
             prest
             ,
          
           
             As
             over-charged
             in
             my
             breast
             :
          
           
             Its
             struglings
             of
             a
             divers
             kind
             .
          
           
             Perplex
             and
             intricate
             my
             mind
             ,
          
           
             Confus'd
             entanglement
             appears
             ,
          
           
             Of
             se●ce
             with
             faith
             ,
             of
             hopes
             with
             fears
             .
          
           
             Viciss●tudes
             of
             ups
             and
             downs
             ,
          
           
             Of
             s●iles
             that
             interfere
             with
             frowns
             ;
          
           
             As
             twins
             that
             mutually
             contend
             .
          
           
             To
             bring
             which
             contest
             to
             an
             end
             ,
          
           
             I
             thought
             it
             ill
             to
             keep
             them
             pent
             ,
          
           
             But
             in
             this
             order
             give
             them
             vent
             .
          
           
             
               
                 Sense
                 .
              
               
                 O
                 that
                 my
                 head
                 were
                 as
                 a
                 springing
                 well
                 ,
              
               
                 Mine
                 eyes
                 as
                 rivers
                 streaming
                 down
                 with
                 tears
                 :
              
               
                 O
                 that
                 I
                 in
                 some
                 wilderness
                 did
                 dwell
                 ,
              
               
                 Where
                 none
                 might
                 mark
                 my
                 sighs
                 ,
                 my
                 groans
                 ,
                 my
                 fears
                 ,
              
               
                 Where
                 heart
                 might
                 break
                 ,
                 for
                 what
                 is
                 come
                 to
                 pass
                 ,
              
               
                 By
                 Gods
                 fresh
                 breach
                 ,
                 on
                 my
                 dear
                 looking-glass
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 Faith.
                 
              
               
                 Hold
                 ,
                 hold
                 thy
                 peace
                 ,
                 for
                 shame
                 ,
                 the
                 Lord
                 's
                 at
                 hand
                 ,
              
               
                 Let
                 moderation
                 now
                 to
                 all
                 appear
                 ,
              
               
                 Let
                 faith
                 for
                 sole
                 submission
                 give
                 command
                 ,
              
               
                 Let
                 perfect
                 love
                 checq●e
                 such
                 tormenting
                 fear
                 ,
              
               
                 Thy
                 standing's
                 founded
                 as
                 on
                 a
                 mount
                 of
                 brass
                 ;
              
               
                 What
                 mean
                 such
                 out-cries
                 for
                 a
                 broken
                 Glass
                 .
              
               
               
                 If
                 this
                 my
                 loss
                 were
                 personal
                 alone
                 ,
              
               
                 My
                 sin
                 deserves
                 it
                 ,
                 I
                 should
                 bear
                 such
                 stroakes
                 ;
              
               
                 But
                 O
                 methinks
                 ,
                 I
                 heard
                 poor
                 Zion
                 groan
                 ,
              
               
                 '
                 Gainst
                 me
                 all
                 day
                 his
                 Jealousie
                 thus
                 smoakes
                 ;
              
               
                 My
                 walls
                 are
                 fallen
                 ,
                 my
                 gates
                 are
                 Burnt
                 alas
                 ,
              
               
                 My
                 golden
                 pillars
                 are
                 as
                 broken
                 Glass
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 Faith.
                 
              
               
                 Such
                 shift
                 severe
                 dispatches
                 clad
                 with
                 wonder
                 ,
              
               
                 Bring
                 teaching
                 lessons
                 to
                 th'
                 obedient
                 care
                 ,
              
               
                 Who
                 waiting
                 in
                 the
                 secret
                 place
                 of
                 thunder
                 ;
              
               
                 Attends
                 with
                 silence
                 ,
                 reverence
                 ,
                 godly
                 fear
                 ,
              
               
                 At
                 least
                 how
                 sojourners
                 their
                 time
                 should
                 pass
                 ,
              
               
                 That
                 measures
                 by
                 a
                 running
                 shaking
                 Glass
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 Sense
                 .
              
               
                 Heark
                 ,
                 heark
                 ,
                 how
                 Sion
                 sighs
                 as
                 put
                 to
                 shame
                 ,
              
               
                 My
                 Children
                 scatter'd
                 ,
                 plague
                 doth
                 thousands
                 slay
                 ;
              
               
                 Poor
                 London
                 ,
                 undone
                 with
                 devouring
                 stame
                 ,
              
               
                 Distrest
                 at
                 land
                 ,
                 and
                 bloody
                 wars
                 at
                 Sea.
              
               
                 My
                 strength
                 is
                 not
                 of
                 stone
                 ,
                 nor
                 flesh
                 of
                 Brass
                 ,
              
               
                 Why
                 am
                 I
                 brok
                 '
                 as
                 shreds
                 ,
                 as
                 object
                 Glass
                 ?
              
            
             
               
                 Faith.
                 
              
               
                 But
                 what
                 's
                 the
                 ca●se
                 in
                 this
                 confused
                 noise
                 ,
              
               
                 So
                 few
                 speak
                 right
                 ,
                 few
                 smite
                 upon
                 the
                 thigh
                 ,
              
               
                 To
                 get
                 b●
                 heart
                 the
                 tabering
                 Turtles
                 voice
                 ,
              
               
                 What
                 have
                 I
                 done
                 ,
                 ab
                 master
                 is
                 it
                 I
                 ;
              
               
                 Till
                 such
                 re●●ects
                 be
                 made
                 expect
                 ;
                 (
                 Alas
                 !
                 )
              
               
                 A
                 toyling
                 milstone
                 for
                 a
                 fixing
                 Glass
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 Sense
                 .
              
               
                 I
                 Captive
                 sit
                 by
                 Babel's
                 rivers
                 brink
                 ,
              
               
                 My
                 heart
                 even
                 broke
                 ,
                 my
                 harps
                 on
                 willows
                 hang
                 ;
              
               
                 When
                 on
                 poor
                 Sions
                 Ruines
                 I
                 bethink
                 ,
              
               
                 I
                 cannot
                 tune
                 the
                 Songs
                 which
                 once
                 I
                 sang
                 :
              
               
                 Her
                 Heav'ns
                 are
                 Iron
                 ,
                 and
                 her
                 Earth
                 as
                 brass
                 ,
              
               
                 Her
                 silver
                 dross
                 ,
                 her
                 diamonds
                 as
                 Glass
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 Faith.
                 
              
               
                 Such
                 worldly
                 sorrow
                 tends
                 to
                 death
                 at
                 length
                 ,
              
               
                 Not
                 to
                 repentance
                 ;
                 lye
                 not
                 on
                 the
                 ground
                 ,
              
               
                 Take
                 Gospel-armour
                 ,
                 gird
                 thy
                 loyns
                 with
                 strength
                 ;
              
               
                 With
                 search
                 ,
                 the
                 troubling
                 Achan
                 may
                 be
                 found
                 .
              
               
               
                 If
                 grace
                 prepare
                 thee
                 shoes
                 of
                 steel
                 and
                 brass
              
               
                 Thou
                 mayst
                 stand
                 harping
                 on
                 this
                 sea
                 of
                 Glass
                 ,
              
            
             
               
                 Sense
                 .
              
               
                 The
                 righteous
                 perish
                 ,
                 good
                 men
                 snatch'd
                 away
                 ,
              
               
                 The
                 rest
                 leave
                 captive
                 !
                 how
                 am
                 I
                 bereft
                 ?
              
               
                 Most
                 leave
                 their
                 station
                 ,
                 mighty
                 men
                 decay
                 .
              
               
                 If
                 any
                 pleasant
                 picture
                 yet
                 be
                 left
                 ,
              
               
                 Upon
                 its
                 Comliness
                 a
                 wind
                 doth
                 pass
              
               
                 Thus
                 all
                 my
                 hopes
                 dash
                 as
                 a
                 christal
                 -
                 Glass
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 Faith.
                 
              
               
                 Those
                 costly
                 coverings
                 likely
                 did
                 provoke
                 ,
              
               
                 To
                 burning
                 jealousie
                 when
                 over-priz'd
                 ;
              
               
                 And
                 must
                 be
                 dasht
                 by
                 a
                 displeasing
                 stroke
                 ,
              
               
                 As
                 Moses
                 Serpent
                 When
                 't
                 was
                 Idoliz'd
                 :
              
               
                 If
                 that
                 was
                 stampt
                 on
                 as
                 a
                 pi●ce
                 of
                 brass
                 ,
              
               
                 No
                 marvel
                 't
                 is
                 so
                 with
                 a
                 beauteous
                 Glass
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 Sense
                 .
              
               
                 Have
                 pitty
                 (
                 saith
                 she
                 )
                 while
                 I
                 thus
                 bemoan
              
               
                 My
                 sin
                 's
                 remembred
                 ,
                 and
                 my
                 Son
                 is
                 slain
                 ;
              
               
                 More
                 natural
                 ,
                 to
                 care
                 for
                 me
                 was
                 none
                 :
              
               
                 How
                 can
                 such
                 loss●s
                 be
                 repayr'd
                 again
                 ?
              
               
                 who
                 'l
                 sow
                 and
                 send
                 the
                 feet
                 of
                 Ox
                 and
                 Asse
              
               
                 Besides
                 all
                 waters
                 ,
                 as
                 did
                 painful
                 Glass
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 Faith.
                 
              
               
                 Take
                 heed
                 ,
                 take
                 heed
                 ,
                 lest
                 flesh
                 be
                 too
                 much
                 eye'd
                 ,
              
               
                 In
                 what
                 th'
                 Anointing
                 only
                 can
                 repair
                 ;
              
               
                 Broke
                 Sicamores
                 by
                 Oaks
                 may
                 be
                 supply'd
                 :
              
               
                 Faln
                 bricks
                 by
                 stones
                 to
                 make
                 a
                 building
                 fair
                 ;
              
               
                 But
                 by
                 such
                 patching
                 't
                 will
                 be
                 worse
                 alas
                 ,
              
               
                 New
                 generous
                 wine
                 will
                 break
                 old
                 Shop-worn
                 Glass
              
            
             
               
                 Sense
                 .
              
               
                 Alas
                 who
                 then
                 shall
                 live
                 when
                 God
                 appears
                 ,
              
               
                 Who
                 can
                 the
                 tast
                 of
                 such
                 refining
                 bear
                 ?
              
               
                 When
                 Fire
                 and
                 furnace
                 he
                 in
                 Sion
                 rears
                 ;
              
               
                 Sinners
                 in
                 Sion
                 must
                 be
                 fill'd
                 with
                 fear
                 .
              
               
                 His
                 eyes
                 as
                 slames
                 ,
                 his
                 feet
                 as
                 burning
                 brass
                 ,
              
               
                 Will
                 melt
                 hard
                 Adamants
                 as
                 fluid
                 Glass
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 Faith.
                 
              
               
                 The
                 Fire
                 indeed
                 is
                 hot
                 ,
                 the
                 breach
                 is
                 large
                 ,
              
               
                 But
                 he
                 sits
                 by
                 to
                 do
                 us
                 ,
                 make
                 us
                 good
                 ;
              
               
               
                 If
                 one
                 hair
                 fall
                 not
                 but
                 with
                 special
                 charge
                 ;
              
               
                 If
                 Lillies
                 ,
                 Sparrows
                 have
                 their
                 paint
                 and
                 food
                 ;
              
               
                 If
                 God
                 takes
                 care
                 of
                 Oxen
                 ,
                 Birds
                 ,
                 and
                 grass
                 ;
              
               
                 He
                 's
                 more
                 concern'd
                 in
                 his
                 dear
                 precious
                 Glass
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 Sense
                 .
              
               
                 Ah
                 that
                 both
                 Saints
                 and
                 sinners
                 could
                 lament
                 ,
              
               
                 In
                 town
                 and
                 country
                 ,
                 where
                 this
                 Glass
                 did
                 run
                 ;
              
               
                 The
                 golden
                 hours
                 they
                 foolishly
                 misp●nt
                 :
              
               
                 E●e
                 this
                 his
                 generation
                 work
                 was
                 done
                 .
              
               
                 Had
                 we
                 an
                 Hiram
                 ,
                 skil'd
                 to
                 work
                 in
                 brass
                 ,
              
               
                 Jacin
                 and
                 ●oaz
                 might
                 be
                 rear'd
                 for
                 Glass
                 ,
              
            
             
               
                 Faith.
                 
              
               
                 True
                 ,
                 he
                 was
                 sick
                 and
                 sleeps
                 ,
                 whom
                 Jesus
                 lov'd
                 ,
              
               
                 But
                 they
                 who
                 sleep
                 so
                 shall
                 do
                 well
                 at
                 length
                 :
              
               
                 They
                 rest
                 from
                 labours
                 ,
                 are
                 from
                 sin
                 remov'd
                 ,
              
               
                 Weep
                 not
                 ;
                 he
                 's
                 gone
                 but
                 to
                 renew
                 his
                 strength
                 :
              
               
                 We
                 face
                 to
                 face
                 shall
                 see
                 him
                 ;
                 for
                 ,
                 alas
                 ,
              
               
                 We
                 saw
                 but
                 darkly
                 ,
                 through
                 that
                 factur'd
                 Glass
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 Sense
                 .
              
               
                 Must
                 I
                 be
                 stript
                 then
                 of
                 my
                 choice
                 attire
                 ?
              
               
                 To
                 offer
                 Isaac
                 ,
                 is
                 an
                 heavy
                 tryal
                 ;
              
               
                 Must
                 I
                 be
                 season'd
                 thus
                 with
                 salt
                 and
                 fire
                 ?
              
               
                 How
                 hard
                 a
                 lesson
                 is
                 this
                 self-denial
                 ?
              
               
                 My
                 nailes
                 remov'd
                 ,
                 its
                 weight
                 is
                 fail'n
                 ,
                 alas
                 ,
              
               
                 Cups
                 ,
                 flaggons
                 ,
                 great
                 and
                 small
                 ,
                 all
                 break
                 as
                 Glass
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 Faith.
                 
              
               
                 Take
                 heed
                 of
                 murmuring
                 when
                 God
                 comes
                 down
              
               
                 To
                 bind
                 up
                 Jewels
                 that
                 on
                 earth
                 he
                 finds
                 ,
              
               
                 To
                 raise
                 and
                 six
                 them
                 in
                 a
                 glorious
                 Crown
                 :
              
               
                 He
                 calls
                 for
                 chearful
                 gifts
                 ,
                 from
                 willing-minds
                 .
              
               
                 When
                 he
                 would
                 have
                 a
                 laver
                 made
                 of
                 brass
                 ,
              
               
                 Mark
                 how
                 each
                 daughter
                 offer'd
                 up
                 her
                 glass
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 Sense
                 .
              
               
                 These
                 are
                 hard
                 saying
                 ;
                 deep
                 to
                 deep
                 doth
                 call
                 ;
              
               
                 My
                 flesh
                 begins
                 to
                 fail
                 my
                 heart
                 to
                 sink
                 ;
              
               
                 T
                 is
                 hard
                 to
                 feed
                 on
                 vinegar
                 and
                 gall
                 ,
              
               
                 To
                 eat
                 of
                 ashes
                 ,
                 and
                 with
                 tears
                 to
                 drink
                 :
              
               
                 From
                 me
                 ,
                 if
                 it
                 were
                 possible
                 ,
                 let
                 pass
              
               
                 Such
                 deadly
                 draughts
                 ,
                 mixt
                 in
                 a
                 breaking
                 Glass
                 .
              
            
             
               
               
                 Faith.
                 
              
               
                 Cease
                 Rachel's
                 weeping
                 ,
                 hope
                 is
                 in
                 thine
                 end
                 ;
              
               
                 Thy
                 Children
                 to
                 their
                 border
                 God
                 will
                 bring
                 .
              
               
                 He
                 'l
                 plead
                 thy
                 cause
                 ,
                 thy
                 right
                 he
                 will
                 defend
                 ,
              
               
                 Then
                 
                 Kedars-dwellers
                 and
                 the
                 rocks
                 shall
                 s●ag
                 ;
              
               
                 Thy
                 countenance
                 that
                 black
                 and
                 scorched
                 was
                 ,
              
               
                 Shall
                 shine
                 in
                 brightness
                 like
                 transparent
                 Glass
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             An
             Anagram
             and
             Elegy
             ,
             on
             his
             dear
             deceased
             friend
             ,
             John
             Vernon
             ;
             who
             having
             served
             his
             Generation
             by
             the
             will
             of
             God
             ,
             fell
             asleep
             the
             twenty
             ninth
             day
             of
             the
             third
             Month
             ,
             vulg
             .
             called
             May
             ,
             1667.
             
          
           
             
               For
               ,
               Christ
               was
               hunted
               ,
               griev'd
               disgrac'd
               ,
            
             
               With
               Christ
               ,
               is
               
                 In
                 New
                 Honour
              
               plac'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               I.
               
            
             
               COme
               Sions
               Mourners
               ,
               men
               of
               holy
               skill
            
             
               For
               lamentation
               ,
               in
               the
               ashes
               lie
               ;
            
             
               Come
               skilful
               mourning
               women
               ,
               weep
               your
               fill
               ,
            
             
               Take
               up
               a
               wayling
               ,
               help
               to
               raise
               the
               cry
               ,
            
             
               Till
               from
               our
               eyes
               ,
               like
               Rivers
               ,
               tears
               run
               down
               ,
            
             
               Though
               in
               new
               honour
               ,
               we
               have
               lost
               our
               Crown
               .
            
          
           
             
               II.
               
            
             
               Iniquities
               do
               more
               and
               more
               abound
               ,
            
             
               They
               that
               were
               filthy
               ,
               will
               be
               filthy
               still
               .
            
             
               Heaven-daring
               sins
               without
               controle
               are
               found
               ;
            
             
               With
               wickedness
               now
               doth
               the
               Ephah
               fill
               !
            
             
               Saints
               !
               fill
               your
               bottle
               with
               repenting
               tears
               ,
            
             
               Then
               in
               new
               honour
               quickly
               God
               appears
               .
            
          
           
             
               III.
               
            
             
               A
               fixed
               series
               of
               rebukes
               of
               late
               ,
            
             
               Like
               Wave
               on
               wave
               ,
               discovers
               dirt
               and
               mire
               ,
            
             
               In
               persons
               ,
               Families
               ,
               in
               Church
               and
               State
               ,
            
             
               No
               stone
               in
               Sion
               but
               is
               tried
               by
               fire
               .
            
             
               All
               old
               creation
               things
               with
               trembling
               mixt
               ,
            
             
               Nought
               stan●s
               but
               what
               is
               in
               new
               honour
               fixt
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               IV.
               
            
             
               '
               Mongst
               other
               warnings
               of
               a
               dreadful
               day
            
             
               Approaching
               on
               the
               remnant
               that
               are
               left
               ;
            
             
               The
               Righteous
               fail
               the
               best
               men
               caught
               away
               ;
            
             
               Of
               sense
               and
               feeling
               seem
               the
               rest
               bereft
               ,
            
             
               How
               swift
               the
               ruines
               of
               this
               old
               world
               haste
               ,
            
             
               Whilst
               in
               new
               honour
               Saints
               so
               swift
               are
               plac'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               V.
               
            
             
               Amid
               these
               troops
               of
               fiery
               Chariots
               prest
               ,
            
             
               The
               Royal
               Off-spring
               home
               to
               bring
               with
               speed
               ;
            
             
               My
               heart
               is
               pain'd
               to
               undergo
               the
               test
               ,
            
             
               Of
               parting
               with
               this
               Israelite
               indeed
               .
            
             
               Yet
               when
               I
               think
               how
               many
               are
               debasing
               ,
            
             
               I
               durst
               not
               grudge
               him
               in
               new
               honour
               placing
               .
            
          
           
             
               VI.
               
            
             
               But
               who
               in
               such
               a
               stormy
               wind
               can
               part
            
             
               With
               such
               a
               Father
               ,
               such
               a
               Friend
               indeed
               ,
            
             
               And
               not
               cry
               out
               in
               bitterness
               of
               heart
               ,
            
             
               A
               double
               share
               I
               of
               thy
               Spirit
               need
               ?
            
             
               Though
               carnal
               Israel
               ,
               Israels-troubler
               calls
               thee
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               in
               new
               honour
               
               Israels-God
               install
               thee
               .
            
          
           
             
               VII
               .
            
             
               Poor
               England
               little
               thinks
               ,
               doth
               less
               bewail
               ,
            
             
               Its
               Chariots
               and
               best
               horsmen
               troop
               away
               :
            
             
               When
               witnesses
               and
               loud
               reprovers
               fail
               ,
            
             
               Our
               grand
               tormentors
               are
               dispatch'd
               say
               they
               .
            
             
               In
               open
               streets
               expos'd
               to
               scorn
               such
               lie
               ,
            
             
               Ere
               in
               new
               honour
               they
               be
               rais'd
               on
               high
               .
            
          
           
             
               VIII
               .
            
             
               What
               though
               (
               dear
               Soul
               )
               thy
               worth
               hath
               not
               appear'd
               ,
            
             
               But
               black
               among
               the
               pot-sherds
               thou
               hast
               lien
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Visage
               mar'd
               ,
               thy
               beauty
               been
               besmear'd
               ,
            
             
               By
               mingling
               Sions
               dust
               with
               tears
               of
               thine
               .
            
             
               That
               dust
               is
               wash'd
               ,
               those
               tears
               are
               wip'd
               away
               ,
            
             
               Since
               in
               new
               honour
               thou
               art
               call'd
               to
               stay
               .
            
          
           
             
               IX
               .
            
             
               Earth
               was
               not
               worthy
               of
               thee
               ,
               could
               not
               bear
               thee
               ,
            
             
               Profane
               and
               loose
               Professors
               far'd
               alike
               ;
            
             
               Thy
               words
               and
               walks
               did
               make
               them
               fret
               or
               fear
               thee
               ,
            
             
               '
               Gainst
               those
               defilements
               thou
               wert
               bent
               to
               strike
               .
            
             
             
               In
               base
               compliances
               thou
               dread'st
               to
               bow
               ,
            
             
               Wert
               then
               in
               shame
               ,
               art
               
                 in
                 new
                 honour
              
               now
               .
            
          
           
             
               X.
               
            
             
               Ah
               what
               a
               troop
               of
               weepers
               I
               descry
               ,
            
             
               Of
               Windows
               ,
               Fatherless
               ,
               Sick
               ,
               Prisoners
               sad
               ,
            
             
               Poor
               ,
               Exiles
               ,
               desolate
               ,
               condemn'd
               to
               die
               ,
            
             
               Shewing
               how
               they
               by
               thee
               were
               chear'd
               and
               clad
               .
            
             
               Our
               loss
               ,
               weep
               they
               ,
               will
               scare
               repaired
               be
               ,
            
             
               Till
               in
               new
               honour
               we
               meet
               Christ
               with
               thee
               .
            
          
           
             
               XI
               .
            
             
               Among
               the
               Flock
               of
               Slaughter
               ,
               clad
               with
               dust
               ,
            
             
               Through
               simpathy
               in
               Spirit
               oft
               am
               I
               ;
            
             
               But
               with
               
               Job's
               Comforters
               sit
               mute
               I
               must
               ,
            
             
               Since
               grief
               amounts
               to
               such
               extremity
               :
            
             
               His
               indignation
               ,
               having
               sin'd
               ,
               let
               's
               bear
               ,
            
             
               Till
               in
               new
               honour
               he
               our
               breach
               repair
               .
            
          
           
             
               XII
               .
            
             
               A
               trembling
               remnant
               '
               mongst
               the
               rest
               I
               spy
               ,
            
             
               Of
               mourners
               ,
               mark'd
               and
               seal'd
               in
               front
               and
               hands
               ;
            
             
               Whom
               Carnal
               Brethren
               casting
               out
               ,
               do
               cry
               .
            
             
               Where
               's
               now
               your
               God
               ?
               our
               mount
               unshaken
               stands
               .
            
             
               But
               to
               their
               shame
               he
               will
               appear
               at
               last
               ,
            
             
               When
               in
               new
               honour
               are
               markt
               mourners
               plac't
            
          
           
             
               XIII
               .
            
             
               For
               his
               blest
               chastned
               Houshold
               ,
               left
               with
               God
               ,
            
             
               The
               pregnant
               Widow
               and
               her
               hopeful
               Seed
               .
            
             
               Friends
               ,
               Servants
               ,
               Sojourners
               ,
               that
               feel
               this
               Rod
               ,
            
             
               My
               flesh
               doth
               tremble
               and
               my
               heart
               doth
               bleed
               .
            
             
               Through
               right
               to
               Christ
               ,
               yet
               raised
               from
               the
               dead
               ,
            
             
               Ye
               in
               new
               honour
               have
               a
               better
               head
               .
            
          
           
             
               XIV
               .
            
             
               Among
               these
               mourners
               should
               I
               strive
               to
               sing
               ,
            
             
               Like
               Vinegar
               on
               nitre
               it
               would
               seem
               ;
            
             
               If
               to
               their
               sorrows
               I
               more
               weight
               should
               ring
               ,
            
             
               A
               woful
               Comforter
               they'I
               me
               esteem
               ,
            
             
               Hast
               to
               thy
               mountain
               (
               Soul
               )
               with
               mourning
               wings
               ,
            
             
               Till
               in
               new
               honour
               light
               from
               darkness
               springs
               .
            
          
           
             
               XV.
               
            
             
               But
               ah
               poor
               sinners
               !
               When
               will
               ye
               be
               wise
               ?
            
             
               They
               'r
               gone
               who
               did
               disturb
               your
               carnal
               peace
               .
            
             
             
               But
               sins
               abiding
               ,
               stones
               shall
               cry
               ,
               and
               rise
               ,
            
             
               Rather
               then
               Gods
               contest
               with
               you
               shall
               cease
               .
            
             
               With
               flames
               his
               controversie
               he
               'l
               renew
            
             
               If
               in
               new
               honour
               ye
               no
               right
               pursue
               .
            
          
           
             
               XVI
               .
            
             
               His
               Prophets
               he
               no
               longer
               now
               imploies
               .
            
             
               His
               slighted
               ,
               scorn'd
               Ambassadours
               ,
               withdraws
               ;
            
             
               But
               with
               heav'n-shaking
               ,
               earth
               affrighting
               noise
               ,
            
             
               As
               if
               seven
               thunders
               spake
               ,
               he
               pleads
               his
               cause
               .
            
             
               Stout
               sinners
               ▪
               gird
               your
               loyns
               ,
               decision's
               nigh
               ;
            
             
               Saints
               !
               to
               your
               Fortress
               ,
               in
               new
               honour
               fly
               .
            
          
           
             
               XVII
               .
            
             
               Bac●sliding
               England
               ,
               once
               professing
               high
               ,
            
             
               Now
               turning
               
               Egipt-ward
               in
               spight
               of
               wrath
               ;
            
             
               Thy
               Oaths
               base
               crouchings
               ,
               deep
               apostacie
               ,
            
             
               To
               sins
               and
               vengeance
               flood-gates
               opened
               hath
               .
            
             
               Turn
               ,
               turn
               at
               Gods
               reproof
               ,
               break
               off
               thy
               sin
               ,
            
             
               Else
               ne're
               expect
               nue
               honour
               stepping
               in
               .
            
          
           
             
               XVIII
               .
            
             
               Yet
               hope
               's
               in
               Israel
               still
               ▪
               though
               flesh
               hath
               none
               ;
            
             
               A
               shelter
               from
               the
               storm
               have
               Saints
               provided
               ,
            
             
               When
               desolate
               expos'd
               ,
               left
               most
               alone
               ,
            
             
               They
               by
               Gods
               Eye
               and
               Counsel
               shall
               be
               guided
               :
            
             
               When
               desolations
               at
               their
               height
               begin
               ,
            
             
               Such
               earth-quakes
               usher
               their
               nue
               honours
               in
               .
            
          
           
             
               XIX
               .
            
             
               Then
               mourning
               ,
               trembling
               ,
               Sionists
               attend
               ,
            
             
               Though
               heart
               and
               hand
               grow
               faint
               ,
               lift
               up
               your
               head
            
             
               The
               
               Ach●n-search
               ,
               the
               breach
               and
               gap
               defend
               ,
            
             
               'Twixt
               porch
               and
               Altar
               stand
               'twixt
               quick
               &
               dead
            
             
               Peace
               may
               be
               made
               (
               perhaps
               )
               a
               pardon
               had
               .
            
             
               And
               plowed
               Sion
               in
               new
               honour
               clad
               .
            
          
           
             
               XX.
               
            
             
               Nay
               though
               this
               age
               must
               needs
               be
               swept
               away
               ,
            
             
               That
               
               Noah's
               ,
               
               Daniel's
               ,
               
               Job's
               find
               no
               regard
               ;
            
             
               Decrees
               be
               seal'd
               ,
               and
               men
               have
               lost
               their
               day
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               shall
               your
               faithful
               work
               have
               full
               reward
               .
            
             
               Th'
               Assi●ians
               floods
               your
               peace
               shall
               not
               annoy
               ,
            
             
               Ye
               in
               nue
               Honour
               shall
               your
               God
               enjoy
               .
            
          
           
             
               A.
               C.
               
            
          
           
             FINIS
             .