2.7.1: The Day of Doom Or, A Description of the Great and Last Judgment (1662)
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I
Still was the night, serene and bright,
when all men sleeping lay;
Calm was the season, & car [. . .] l reason
thought so ‘twould last [. . .] or ay.
Soul take thine ease, let sorrow cease,
much good thou hast in store;
This was their song their cups among
the evening before.
II
Wallowing in all kind of sin,
vile wretches lay secure,
The best of men had scarcely then
their Lamps kept in good ure.
Virgins unwise, who through disguise
amongst the best were number’d,
Had clos’d their eyes; yea, and the Wise
through sloth and frailty slumber’d.
III
Like as of old, when men grew bold
Gods threatnings to contemn,
(Who stopt their ear, and would not hear
when mercy warned them?
But took their course, without remorse,
till God began to pour
Destruction the world upon,
in a tempestuous show [. . .]
IV
They put away the evil day
and drown’d their cares and fears,
Till drown’d were they, and swept away
by vengeance unawares:
So at the last, whilest men sleep fast
in their security,
Surpriz’d they are in such a snare
as cometh suddenly.
V
For at midnight broke forth a light,
which turn’d the night to day:
And speedily an hideous cry
did all the world dismay.
Sinners awake, their hearts do ake,
trembling their loyns surprizeth;
Am [. . .] z’d with fear, by what they hear,
each one of them ariseth.
VI
They rush from beds with giddy heads,
and to their windows run,
Viewing this Light, which shines more bright
than doth the noon-day Sun.
Straightway appears (they see’t with [. . .] ears)
the Son of God most dread,
Who with his train comes on amain
to judge both Quick and Dead.
VII
Before his face the Heavens give place,
and Skies are rent asunder,
With mighty voice and hideous noise,
more terrible then Thunder.
His brightness damps Heav’ns glorious l [. . .] mps,
and makes them hide their heads:
As if afraid, and quite dismaid,
they quit their won [. . .] ed steads.
VIII
Ye sons of men that durst contemn
the threatnings of Gods word,
How cheer you now? your hearts (I trow)
are thrill’d as with a sword.
Now Atheist blind, whose bru [. . .] ish min [. . .]
a God could never see,
Dost thou perceive, dost now believe
that Christ thy Judge shall be [. . .]
IX
Stout courages (whose hardiness
could death and hell out-face)
Are you as bold now you behold
your Judge draw near apace?
They cry, No, no: alas and wo [. . .]
our courage all is gone:
Our hardiness, ( [. . .]ool-hardiness)
hath us undone, undone.
X
No heart so b [. . .]ld but now grows cold,
and almost dead with fear:
No eye so dry but now can cry,
and pour out many a tear.
Earths Po [. . .] entates and pow’rful States,
Captains and men of Might
Are qui [. . .] e abasht, their courage dasht.
At this most dreadful sight.
XI
Mean men lament, great men do r [. . .] nt
their robes and tear their hair:
They do not spare their flesh to tear
through horrible despair.
All kindreds wail, their hearts do fail:
horrour the world doth fill
Wi [. . .] weeping eyes, and loud out-cries,
yet knows not how to kill.
XII
Some hide themselves in Caves and Delves,
and pl [. . .] ces under ground:
Some rashly leap into the deep,
to, scape by being drown’d:
Some to the Rocks, (O sensless blocks)
and woody Mountains run,
T [. . .] a [. . .] there they might this fearful [. . .] ight
and dreaded Presence shun.
XIII
In v [. . .] in do they to Mountains say,
Fall on us, and us hide
From Judges i [. . .] e, more hot then fire,
For who may it abide?
No hiding place can from his face
sinners at all conceal,
Whose flaming eye hid things doth spy,
and darkest things reveal.
XIV
The Judge draws nigh, exalted high
upon a lofty Throne,
Amids the throng of Angels strong,
LIKE Israel’s [. . .] oly One.
The excellence of whose Presence,
and awful Majesty,
Am [. . .] zeth Nature, and every Crea [. . .] ure
doth more then terrifie.
XV
The Mountains smo [. . .] k, the Hills are shook,
the Earth is rent and torn,
As if she should be clean dissolv’d,
or from her Cen [. . .] re born.
The Sea doth roar, forsakes the sho [. . .] e,
and shrinks away for fear:
The wild beasts flee into the Sea
so soon as he draws nea [. . .].
XVI
Whose glory bright, whose wond [. . .] ous might,
whose Power Imperial,
So far surpass what ever was
in Realms Terrestrial;
That tongues of men (nor Angels pen)
cannot the same express:
And the [. . .] efore I must pass it by,
lest speaking should transgress.
XVII
Before his throne a Trump is blown,
proclaiming th’ day of Doom:
Forthwith he c [. . .] ies, Ye dead arise,
and unto Judgement come.
No sooner said, but ‘tis obey’d;
Sepulch [. . .] es open’d are;
Dead bodies all [. . .] ise at his call,
and’s mig [. . .] y power declare.
XVIII
Both s [. . .] a and land at his command,
their dead at once surrender:
The fire and air constrained are
also [. . .] heir de [. . .] d to [. . .] ender.
The mighty wo [. . .] d of [. . .] his great Lord
links body and soul toge [. . .] her,
Both of the just and the unjust,
to part no more for ever.
XIX
The same translates from mortal states
[. . .] o imm [. . .] tality,
All that survive, and be alive,
i’th’ twinkling of an eye.
That so they may abide for ay
to endless weal or woe;
Both the Renate and Reprobate
are made to dye no moe.
XX
His winged Hosts fly through all Coasts,
together gathering
Both good and bad, both quick and dead,
and all to Judgement bring.
Out of their holes these creeping Moles,
that hid themselves for fear,
By force they take, and quickly make
before the Judge appear.
XXI
Thus every one before the Throne
of Christ the Judge is brought,
Both righteous and impious,
that good or ill had wrought.
A sepa [. . .] ation, and diff’ring station
by Christ appointed is
To sinners sad (‘ [. . .] wixt good and bad,)
‘ [. . .] wixt Heirs of woe, and bliss.
XXII
At Christ’s right hand the sheep do st [. . .] nd,
his Holy Martyrs who
For his dear Name, suffering shame,
calamity, and woe,
Like Champions stood, and with their blood
their Testimony sealed;
Whose innocence, without off [. . .] nce
to Christ their Judge appealed.
XXIII
Next unto whom there find a room,
all Christs [. . .] fflicted one [. . .],
Who being chastis’d, neither despis’d,
nor sank amidsts their g [. . .] oans:
Who by the Rod were turn’d to God,
and loved him the more,
N [. . .] murmuring nor quarrelling [. . .]
when they were chast’ned sore.
XXIV
Moreover such as loved much,
that had not such a trial,
As might constrain to so great pain,
and such deep sel [. . .]-denial;
Yet ready were the Cross to bear,
when Christ them call’d thereto,
And did rejoyce to hear his voice,
they’r counted Sheep also.
XXV
Christ’s flock of Lambs there also stands,
whose Faith was weak, yet true;
All sound Believers (Gospel-receivers)
whose grace was small, but grew.
And them among an infant throng
of Babes, for whom Christ dy’d;
Whom [. . .] or his own, by ways unknown.
to men, he sanctify’d.
XXVI
All stand before their Saviour
in long white Robes [. . .] clad,
Their countenance [. . .] ull of pleasance,
appearing wondrous glad.
O glorious sight I behold how bright
dust heaps are made to shine,
Conformed so their Lord unto,
whose glory is divine.
XXVII
At Christs left hand the Goats do stand,
all whining Hypocrites,
Who for self-ends did seem Christ’s friends,
but fost’red guileful sprites:
Who Sheep resembled, but they dissembled
(their heart was not sincere)
Who once did throng Christ’s Lambs among;
but now must not come near.
XXVIII
Apostata’s, and Run-away’s,
such as have Christ forsaken,
(Of whom the the Devil, with seven more evil,
hath fresh possession taken:
Sinners in grain, reserv’d to pain
and torments most severe)
Because ‘gainst light they sinn’d with spight,
are also placed there.
XXIX
There also stand a num’rous band,
that no profession made
Of Godliness, nor to redress
their wayes at all assay’d:
Who better knew, but (sin [. . .] ul Crew [. . .])
Gospel and Law despised;
Who all Christ’s knocks withstood like blocks,
and would not be advised.
XXX
Moreover there with them appear
a number numberless
Of great and small, vile wretches all,
that did Gods Law transgress:
Idolaters, false Worshippers,
Prophaners of Gods Name,
Who not at all thereon did call,
or took in vain the same.
XXXI
Blasphemers lewd, and Swearers shrewd,
Scoffers at Purity,
That hated God, contemn’d his Rod,
and lov’d security.
Sabbath-polluters, Saints Persecuters,
Presumptuous men, and Proud,
Who never lov’d those that reprov’d;
all stand amongst this crowd.
XXXII
Adulterers and Whoremongers
were there, with all unchast.
There Covetou [. . .] , and Ravenous,
that Riches got too fast:
Who us’d vile ways themselves to raise
t’ Estates and worldly wealth,
Oppression by, or Knavery,
by Force, or Fraud, or Stealth.
XXXIII
Moreover, there together were
Children fl [. . .] gitious,
And Parents who did them undo
by nature vicious.
False-witness-bearers, and self-forswearers,
Murd’rers and men of blood,
Witches, Inchanters, and Alehouse-haunters,
beyond account there stood.
XXXIV
Their place there find all Heathen blind,
that Natures light abused,
Although they had no tidings glad
of Gospel-grace re [. . .] used.
There stand all Nations and Generations
of Adam’s Progeny,
Whom Christ redeem’d not, who Christ esteem’d not
throught infidelity.
XXXV
Who no Peace-maker, no Undertaker
to shrowd them from God’s ire
Ever obtained; they must be pained
with everlasting fire.
These num’rous bands, wringing their hands,
and weeping, all stand there,
Filled with anguish, whose hearts do languish
through self-tormenting fear.
XXX
Fast by them stand at Christ’s left hand
the Lion fierce and fell,
The Dragon bold, that Serpent old
that hurried Souls to Hell.
There also stand, under command,
Legions of Sprights unclean.
And hellish Fiends that are no friends
to God, nor unto men.
XXXVII
With dismal chains and strong reins,
like prisoners of Hell,
They’r held in place before Christ’s face,
till he their Doom shall tell.
These void of tears, but fill’d with fears,
and dreadful expectation
Of endless pains, and scalding flames,
stand waiting for Damnation.
XXXVIII
All silence kept, both Goats and Sheep,
before the Judges Throne:
With mild aspect to his Elect
then spake the Holy One:
My Sheep draw near, your sentence hear,
which is to you no dread,
Who clearly now discern, and know
your sins are pardoned.
XXXIX
‘Twas meet that ye should judged be,
that so the world may ‘spy
No cause of grudge, when as I judge
and deal impartially,
Know therefore all both great and small,
the ground and reason why
These men do stand at my right hand,
and look so chearfully.
XL
These men be those my Father chose
before the world’s foundation,
And to me gave that I should save
from death and condemnation.
For whose dear sake I flesh did take,
was of a woman born,
And did inure my self t’endure
unjust reproach and scorn.
XLI
For them it was that I did pass
through sorrows many a one:
That I drank up that bitter Cup,
which made me sigh and groan.
The Cross his pain I did sustain;
yea more, my Fathers ire
I under-went, my bloud I spent
to save them from Hell fire.
XLII
Thus I esteem’d, thus I redeem’d
all these from every Nation,
that they might be (as now you see)
a chosen Generation.
What if ere-while they were as vile
and bad as any be,
[. . .] nd yet from all their guilt and thrall
at once I set them free?
XLIII
My grace to one is wrong to none:
none can Election claim.
Amongst all those their souls that lose,
none can Rejection blame.
He that may chuse, or else refuse,
all men to save or spill,
May this man chuse, and that refuse,
redeeming whom he will.
XLIV
But as for those whom I have chose
Salvations heirs to be,
I u [. . .] derwent their punishment,
and therefore set them free.
I bore their grief, and their relief
by suffering procur’d,
That they of bliss and happiness
[. . .] ight firmly be assur’d.
XLV
And this my g [. . .] ace they did embrace,
believing on my name;
Which Faith was true, the fruits do shew
proceeding from the same.
Their Penitence, their Patience,
their Love, their Self-den [. . .] al;
In suffering losses and bearing crosses,
when put upon the trial:
XLVI
Their sin forsaking, their cheerful taking
my yoke; their chari [. . .] ee
Unto the Saints in all their wants,
and in them unto me.
These things do clear, and make appear
their Faith to be unfeigned:
And that a part in my desert
and purchase they have gained.
XLVII
Their debts are paid, their peace is made,
their sins remitted are;
Therefore at once I do pronounce
and openly declare,
That Heaven is theirs, that they be Heir [. . .]
of Life and of Salvation;
Nor ever shall they come at all
to death or to damnation.
XLVIII
Come, blessed ones, and sit on Thrones,
judging the world with me:
Come, and possess your happiness,
and bought [. . .] elicitee.
Henceforth no fears, no care, no tears,
no sin shal you annoy,
Nor any thing that grief doth bring;
eternal rest enjoy.
XLIX
You bore the Cross, you suffered loss
of all [. . .] or my Names sake:
Receive the Crown that’s now your own;
come, and a kingdom take.
Thus spake the Judge: the wicked grudge,
and grind their teeth in vain;
They see with groans these plac’d on throne [. . .]
which addeth to their pain:
L
That those whom they did wrong and slay,
must now their judgement see!
Such whom they sleighted and once de [. . .] spighte [. . .]
must of their Judges be!
Thus ‘tis decreed, such is their meed
and guerdon glorious:
With Christ they sit, judging it fit
to plague the impious.
LI
The wicked are brought to the Bar
like guilty malefactors,
That oftentimes of bloody crimes
and treasons have been actors.
Of wicked men none are so mean
as there to be neglected:
Nor none so high in dignity,
as there to be respected.
LII
The glorious Judge will priviledge
nor Emperour nor King:
But every one that hath misdone
doth into judgement bring;
And every one that hath misdone,
the Judge impartially
Condemneth to eternal wo,
and endless misery.
LIII
Thus one and all, thus great and small,
the rich as well as poor,
And those of place, as the most base,
do stand their Judge before:
They are arraign’d, and there detain’d
before Christ’s judgement seat
With trembling fear their Doom to hear,
and feel his angers heat.
LIV
There Christ demands at all their hands
a strict and straight account
Of all things done under the Sun;
who [. . .] e numbers far surmount
Man’s wit and thought: yet all are brought
unto this solemn trial;
And each offence with evidence,
so that there’s no denial.
LV
There’s no excuses for their abuse [. . .]
since their own consciences
More proof give in of each man’s sin;
then thousand witnesses.
Though formerly this faculty
had grosly been abused,
(Men could it stifle, or with it trifle,
whenas it them accused.)
LVI
Now it comes in, and every si [. . .]
unto mans charge doth lay:
It judgeth them, and doth condemn,
though all the world say nay.
It so stingeth and tortureth,
it worketh such di [. . .] tress,
That each mans self against himself
is forced to confess.
LVII
It’s vain, moreover, for men to cover
the least iniquity;
The Judge hath seen and privy been
to all their villany.
He unto light and open sight
the works of darkness b [. . .] ings:
He doth unfold both new and old,
both known and hidden things.
LVIII
All filthy facts and secret acts,
however closely done
And long conceal’d, are there reveal’d.
before the mid-day Sun.
Deeds of the night shunning the light,
which darkest corners sought,
To fearful blame and endless shame,
are there most justly brought.
LIX
And as all facts and grosser acts,
so every word and thought,
Erroneous notion and lust [. . .] ul motion,
are into judg [. . .] ment brought.
No sin so small and trivial,
but hi [. . .] her it must come:
[. . .] or so long past, but now at last
it must receive a doom.
LX
[. . .] t this sad season Christ asks a reason
(with just austerity)
Of Grace refus’d, of Light abus’d
so oft, so wilfully:
O [. . .] Talents lent, by them-mispent,
and on their lusts bestown;
Which if improv’d as it behoov’d,
Heaven might have been their own.
LXI
Of time neglected, of meanes rejected,
of God’s long-suffering,
And patience, to penitence
that sought hard hearts to bring.
Why cords of love did nothing move
to shame or to remorse?
Why warnings grave, and councels have
nought chang’d their sinful course?
LXII
Why chastenings and evil [. . .] hings,
why judgments so severe
Prevailed not with them a jo [. . .],
nor wrought an awful fear?
Why promises of holiness,
and new obedience,
[. . .] hey oft did make, but always break
the [. . .] ame to Gods offence?
LXIII
Why, still Hell-ward, without regard,
the boldly ventured,
And chose Damnation before Salvation
when it was offered?
Why sinful pleasures and earthly treasures,
like fools they prized more
Then heavenly wealth, eternal health,
and all Christs Royal store?
LXIV
Why, when he stood off’ring his Bloud
to wash them from their sin,
They would embrace no saving Grace,
but liv’d and di’d therein?
Such aggravations, where no evasions
nor false pretences hold,
Exagerate and cumulate
guilt more then can be told:
LXV
They multiply and magnifie
mens gross iniquities;
They draw down wrath (as Scripture saith)
out of God’s treasuries [. . .]
Thu [. . .] all their ways Christ open lays
to Men and Angels view,
And, as they were, makes them appear
in their own proper hue.
LXVI
Thus he doth find of all ma [. . .] kind
that stand at his left hand
No mothers son but hath misdone,
and broken God’s command.
All have transgrest, even the best,
and merited God’s wrath
[. . .] nto their own perdition,
and everlasting scath.
LXVII
Earth’s dwellers all both great and small,
have wrought iniquity,
And suffer must (for it is just)
eternal misery.
Amongst the many there come not any
before the Judge’s face,
That able are themselves to clear,
of all this curled race.
LXVIII
Nevertheless they all express,
Christ granting liberty,
What for their way they have to say,
how they have liv’d, and why.
They all draw near, and seek to clear
themselves by making plea’s.
There hypocrites, false-hearted wights,
do make such pleas as these.
LXIX
Lord, in thy Name, and by the same
we Devils dispossest:
We rais’d the dead, and ministred
succour to the distrest.
Our painful preaching and pow’rful teaching,
by thine own wond’rous might,
Did throughly win from God to sin
many a wretched wight.
LXX
All this (quoth he) may granted be [. . .]
and your case little better’d,
Who still remain under a chain,
and many irons fetter’d.
You that the dead have quickened,
and rescu’d from the grave,
Your selves were dead, yet never ned
a Christ your Souls to save.
LXXI
You that could preach, and others teach
wh [. . .] t way to life doth lead;
Why were you slack to find that track,
and in that way to tread?
How could you bear to see or hear
of others freed at last
From Satans Paws, whilst in his jaws
your selves were held more fa [. . .] t?
LXXII
Who though you kne [. . .] Repentance true
and faith in my great Name,
The only mean to quit you clean
from punishment and blame,
Yet took no pain true faith to gain,
(such as might not deceive)
Nor would repent wi [. . .] h true intent
[. . .] our evil deeds to leave.
LXXIII
[. . .] is Masters will how to fulfil
[. . .] he servant that well knew,
[. . .] et left undone his duty known,
more plagues to him are due.
[. . .] ou against Light perverted Right;
[. . .] herefore it shall be now
[. . .] or Sidon and for Sodom’s Land
[. . .] ore easie then for you.
LXXIV
[. . .] ut we have in thy presence bin,
say some, and eaten there.
[. . .] id we not eat thy flesh for meat,
and feed on heavenly cheer?
Whereon who feed shall never need,
as thou thy self dost say,
[. . .] or shall they die eternally,
but live with thee for ay.
LXXV
We may alledge, thou gav’st a pledge
of thy dea [. . .] love to us
[. . .] Wine and B [. . .] e [. . .] d, [. . .] hich figured
[. . .] hy grace bestowed thus.
Of streng [. . .] hning seals, of s [. . .] eetest meals
have we so oft partaken?
[. . .] nd shall we be cast off by thee,
and utterly forsaken?
LXXVI
[. . .] whom the Lord thu [. . .] in a word
[. . .] eturns a short reply:
I never k [. . .] ew any of you
that wrought iniquity.
You say y’ have bin, my Presence in;
bu [. . .] , f [. . .] iends, how came you there
Wi [. . .] h Raiment vile, that did defile
and quite disgrace my cheer?
LXXVII
Durst you draw near without due fear
unto my holy Table?
Du [. . .] st you prophane and render vain
so far as you were able,
Those Mysteries? which whoso prize
and carefully improve,
Shall saved be undoubtedly,
and nothing shall them move.
LXXVIII
How du [. . .] st you venture, bold guests, to enter
in such a [. . .] ordid hi [. . .] e,
Amongst my guests, unto those feasts
that were not made for you?
How durst you eat for spir’tual meat
your bane, and drink damnation,
Whilst by your guile you rendred vile
so rare and great salvation?
LXXIX
Your fancies fed on heav’nly bread;
your hearts fed on some lust:
You lov’d the Creature more then th’Creator
your soules clave to the dust.
And think you by hypocrisie
and cloaked wickedness,
To enter in, laden with sin,
to lasting happiness.
LXXX
This your excuse shews your abuse
of things ordain’d for good;
And do declare you guilty are
of my dear Flesh and Bloud.
Wherefore those Seals and precious Meals
you put so much upon
As things divine, they seal and sign
you to perdition.
LXXXI
Then forth issue another Crew,
(those being silenced)
Who drawing nigh to the most High
adventure thus to plead:
We sinners were, say they, ‘tis clear,
deserving Condemnation:
But did not we rely on thee,
O Christ, for whole Salvation?
LXXXII
We did believe, and of receive
thy gracious Promises:
We took great care to get a share
in endless happiness:
We pray’d and wept, we Fast-days kept,
lewd ways we did eschew:
We joyful were thy Word to h [. . .] ar,
we fo [. . .] m’d our lives anew.
LXXXIII
We thought our sin had pardon’d bi [. . .],
that our estate was good,
Our debts all paid, [. . .] ur peace well made,
our Souls wash [. . .] wi [. . .] h [. . .] hy B [. . .] oud.
Lord, why dost thou rej [. . .] ct us now,
who have not thee rejected,
Nor utterly true sanctity
and holy li [. . .] e neglected?
LXXXIV
The Judge ince [. . .] sed at their pretenced
self-vaunting piety,
With such a look as trembling strook
into them, made reply;
O impudent, impeni [. . .] ent,
and guile [. . .] ul generation!
Think you that I cannot descry
your hearts abomination?
LXXXV
You not receiv’d, nor yet believ [. . .] d
my promises of grace;
Nor were you wise enough to prize
my reconciled face:
But did presume, that to assume
which was not yours to take,
And challenged the childrens bread,
yet would not sin forsake.
LXXXVI
B [. . .] ing too bold you laid fast hold
where int’ [. . .] est you had none,
Your selves deceiving by your believing;
all which you might have known.
You [. . .] an away (but ran astray)
with Gospel promises,
And perished, being still dead
in sins and trespasse [. . .].
LXXXVII
How oft did I hypocrisie
and hearts deceits unmask
Before your sight, giving you ligh [. . .]
to know a Christians task?
But you held fast unto the last
your own conceits so vain:
No warning could prevail, you would
your own deceits re [. . .] ain.
LXXXVIII
As for your care to get a share
in bliss, the fear of Hell,
And of a part in endless smart,
did thereunto compel.
Your holiness and ways redress,
such as it was, did spring
From no true love to things above,
but from some other thing.
LXXXIX
You pray’d and wept, you Fast-days kept,
but did you this to me?
No, but for [. . .] n you sought to win
the greater liberte [. . .].
For all your vaunts, you had vile haunt’s;
for which your consciences
Did you alarm, whose voice to charm
you us’d these practises.
XC
Your penitence, your diligence
to read, to pray, to hear,
Were but to drown the clam’rous sound
of conscience in your ea [. . .]
If light you lov’d, vain-glory mov’d
your selves therewith to store,
Th [. . .] t seeming wise, men might you prize,
and honour you the more.
XCI
Thus from your selves unto your selves
your duties all do tend:
And as self-love the wheels do move,
so in self-love they end.
Thus Ch [. . .] ist detects their vain projects,
and close impiety,
And plainly shews that all their shows
were but hypocrisie.
XCII
Then were brought nigh a company
of [. . .] ivil honest men,
That lov’d true dealing, and hated stealing,
[. . .] e wrong’d their brethren:
Who pleaded thus, Thou knowest us
that we were blamele [. . .] s livers;
No whore-mongers, no murderers,
no quarrellers nor strivers.
XCIII
Idolaters, Adulterers,
Church-robbers we were none;
Nor false dealers, nor couzeners,
but paid each man his own.
Our way was fair, our dealing square,
we were no wastful spenders,
No lewd toss-pots, no drunken sots,
no scandalous offenders.
XCIV
We hated vice, and set great price
by vertuous conversation:
And by the same we got a name,
and no small commendation.
God’s Laws express that righteousness
is that which he doth prize;
And to obey, as he doth say,
is more then sacrifice.
XCV
Thus to obey, hath been our way;
let our good deeds, we pray,
Find some regard, and good rewa [. . .] d
with thee, O Lord, this day.
And whereas we transgressors be;
of Adam’s Race were n [. . .] ne,
(No not the best) but have confes [. . .]
themselves to h [. . .] ve mis [. . .] one.
XCVI
Then answered, un [. . .] o their dread,
the Judge, True piety
God doth desire, and eke requi [. . .] e
no less then honesty.
Justice demands at all your hands
perfect Obedience:
If but in part you have come sh [. . .],
that is a just offence.
XCVII
On earth below where men did owe
a thousand pounds and more,
Could twenty pence it recompence?
could that have clear’d the score?
Think you to buy felicity
with part of what’s due debt?
O [. . .] for desert of one small part
the whole should off be set?
XCVIII
And yet that part (whose great desert
you think to reach so far
For your excuse) doth you accuse,
and will your boasting mar.
However fair, however square
your way, and work h [. . .] th bin
Before mens eyes, yet God espies
iniquity therein.
XCIX
God looks upon th’ [. . .] ff [. . .] ction
and temper of the heart;
Not only on the action,
and the external part.
Whatever end vain men pretend,
God knows the v [. . .] ri [. . .] y [. . .]
And by the end which they intend
their words and deeds doth try.
C
Without true faith, the Scripture saith,
God cannot take delight
In any deed, that doth proceed
from any si [. . .] ful wight.
And withou [. . .] love all actions prove
but barren empty things:
Dead works they be, and vanity,
the which vexation brings.
CI
Nor from true faith, which quencheth wrath
hath your obedience flown:
Nor from true love, which wont to move
believers, hath it grown.
Your argument shews your intent
in all that you have done:
You thought to [. . .] cale heavens lofty wall,
by ladders o [. . .] your own.
CII
Your blinded spirit, hoping to merit
by your own righteousness,
Needed no Saviour, but your b [. . .] haviour
and blameless ca [. . .] riages [. . .]
You trusted to what you could do,
and in no need you stood:
Your haughty pride laid me aside,
and trampled on my Bloud.
CIII
All men have gone astray, and done
that which God’s Law [. . .] condemn:
But my Purchase and offered Grace
all men did not contemn.
The Ninevites and Sodomites
had no such sin as this:
Yet as if all your sins were small,
you say, All did amiss.
CIV
Again, you thought, and mainly sought
a name with men t’ acquire:
Pride bare the B [. . .] ll that made you swell,
and your own selves admire.
M [. . .] an frui [. . .] it is, and vile, I wis,
that sp [. . .] ings from such a root:
Vertue divine and genuine
wants not from pride to shoor.
CV
Such deeds as you are worse then poo [. . .],
they are but sins guilt over
With silver dross, whose glistering gloss
[. . .] an them no longer cover.
The best of them would you condemn,
and [. . .] uine you alone,
Al [. . .] hough you were from faults so clear,
that other you had none.
CVI
Your gold is dross, you [. . .] silver brass,
your righteousness is sin:
And think you by such honesty
Eternall life to win?
You much mistake, if for it’s sake
you dream of acceptation;
Whereas the same deserveth shame,
and meriteth damnation.
CVII
A wond’rous Crowd then ‘gan aloud
thus for themselves to say;
We did intend, Lord to mend,
and to reform our way:
Ou [. . .] true intent was to repent,
and make our peace with thee;
But sudden death stopping our breath,
left us no libertee.
CVIII
Short was our time; for in his prime
our youthful flow’r was cropt:
We dy’d in youth, before full growth;
so was our purpose stopt.
Let our good will to turne from ill,
and sin to have forsaken,
Accepted be O Lord, by thee,
and in good part be taken.
CIX
To whom the Judg; Where you alledge
the shortness of the space
That from your bi [. . .] th you liv’d on earth,
to compass S [. . .] ving Grace:
It was free-grace, that any space
wa [. . .] given you at all
To turn from evil, defie the Devil,
and upon God to call.
CX
One day, one week, wherein to seek
Gods face with all your hearts,
A favour was that far did pass
the best of your deserts.
You had a season; what was your Reason
such preciou [. . .] hours to waste?
What could you find, what could you mind
that was of greater haste?
CXI
Could you find time for vain pastime?
for loose licentious mirth?
For fruitless toys, and fading joyes
that perish in the birth?
Had you good leisure for Carnal pleasure
in days of health and youth?
And yet no space to seek Gods face,
and turn to him in truth?
CXII
In younger years, beyond your fears,
what if you were surprised?
You put away the evil day,
and of long life devised.
You oft were told, and might behold,
that Death no age would spare.
Why then did you your time foreslow,
and slight your Souls welfare?
CXIII
H [. . .] d your intent been to Repent,
and had you it desir’d,
There would have been endeavours seen
before your time expir’d.
God makes no [. . .] reasure nor hath he pleasure
in idle purpo [. . .] es:
Such fair pretences are foul offences,
and cloaks for wickedness.
CXIV
Then were brought in and charg’d with sin
another Compa [. . .] y,
Who by Petition obtain’d permission
to make apology:
They argued; We were mis-led,
as is well known to thee,
By their Example, that had more ample
abilities than we.
CXV
Such as profest we did detest
and hate each wicked way:
Whose seeming grace whil’st we did trace,
our Souls were led astray.
When men of Parts, Learning and Arts,
professing Piety,
Did thus and thus, it seem’d to us
we might take liberty.
CXVI
The Judge Replies; I gave you eyes,
a [. . .] d light to see your way:
Which had you lov’d and well improv’d
you had not gone astray.
My Word was pure, the Rule was sure;
why did you it forsake,
Or thereon trample, and men’s Example
your Directory make?
CXVII
This you well know, that God is true,
and that most men are liars,
In word professing holiness,
in deed thereof deniers [. . .]
O simple [. . .] ools! that having Rules
your lives to Regulate,
Would them refuse, and rather chuse
vile men to imitate.
CXVIII
But Lord, say they, we we [. . .] astray,
and did more wickedly,
By means of those whom thou hast chose
Salvations Heirs to be.
To whom the Judge; What you alledge
doth nothing help the case,
But makes appear how vile you were,
and rend’reth you more ba [. . .] e.
CXIX
You understood that what was good
was to be [. . .] ollowed,
And that you ought that which was nought
to have relinquished.
Contrariwise, it was your guise,
only to imitate
Good mens defects, and their neglects
that were Regenerate.
CXX
But to express their holiness,
or imitate their Grace,
Yet little ca [. . .] ‘d, not once prepar’d
your hearts to seek my face.
They did Repent, and truly Rent
their hearts for all known sin:
You did Offend, but not Amend,
to follow them therein.
CXXI
We had thy Word, (said some) O Lord,
but wiser men then wee
Could never yet interpret it,
but always disagree.
How could we fools be led by Rules
so far beyond our ken,
Which to explain, did so much pain
and puzzle wisest men?
CXXII
Was all my Word obscure and hard?
the Judge then answered:
It did contain much Truth so plain,
you might have run and read.
But what was hard you never car’d
to know, nor studied:
And things that were most plain and clear,
you never practised.
CXXIII
The Mystery of Pie [. . .] y
God unto Babes reveals;
When to the wise he it denies,
and from the world co [. . .] ceals.
If [. . .] o fulfill Gods holy will
had seemed good to you,
You would have sought light as you ought,
and done the good y [. . .] u knew.
CXXIV
Then came in view ano [. . .] her Crew,
and ‘gan to make their plea’s;
Amongst the rest, some of the best
had such poor [. . .] hifts as these:
Thou know’st right well, who all canst tell,
we liv’d amongst thy foes,
Who the Renate did sorely hate,
and goodness much oppose.
CXXV
We Holiness durst not profess,
fearing to be forlorn
Of all our friends, and for amends
to be the wicked’s scorn.
We knew thei [. . .] anger would much endanger
our lives and our estates:
Therefore for fear we durst appear
no better than our mates.
CXXVI
To whom the Lord returns this word;
O wonderful deceits!
To cast off aw of Gods strict Law,
and fear mens wrath and th [. . .] eats!
To fear Hell-fire and Gods fierce ire
less then the rage of men!
As if Gods wrath could do less scath
than wrath of bretheren!
CXXVII
To use such strife to temp’ral life
to rescue and secure!
And be so b [. . .] ind as not to mind
that life that will endure!
This was you [. . .] case, who carnal peace
more then [. . .] ue joyes did savour:
Who fed on dus [. . .] , clave to your lust,
and spurned at my [. . .] avour.
CXXVIII
To please your kin, mens loves to win,
to flow in wo [. . .] ldly wealth,
To save your skin, these things have bin
more than Eternal health.
You had your choice, wherein rejoyce,
it was your portion,
For which you chose your Souls t’ expose
unto Perdition.
CXXIX
Who did not hate friends, life, and state,
with all things else for me,
And all forsake, and’s Cross up take,
shall never happy be.
Well worthy they do die for ay,
who death then life had rather:
Death is their due that so value
the friendship of my Father.
CXXX
Others argue, and not a few,
is not God gracious?
His Equity and Clemency
are they not marvellous?
Thus we believ’d; are we deceiv’d?
cannot his Mercy great,
(As hath been told to us of old)
asswage his anger’s heat?
CXXXI
How can it be that God should see
his Creatures endless pain?
O [. . .] hear their groans or ruefull moanes,
and still his wrath retain?
Can it agree with equitee?
can Mercy have the heart,
To Recompence few years offence
with Everlasting smart?
CXXXII
Can God delight in such a sight
as sinners Misery?
Or what great good can this our bloud
bring unto the most High?
Oh thou that dost thy Glory most
in pard’ning sin display!
Lord! might it please thee to release,
and pardon us this day?
CXXXIII
Unto thy Name more glorious fame
would not such Mercy bring?
Would it not raise thine endless praise,
more than our suffering?
With that they cease, holding their peace,
but cease not still to weep;
Griefe ministers a flood to tears,
in which their words do steep:
CXXXIV
But all too late; Grief’s out of date
when Life is at an end.
The glorious King thus answering,
all to his voice attend:
God gracious is, quoth he, like his
no Mercy can be found;
His Equity and Clemency
to sinners do abound.
CXXXV
As may appear by those that here
are plac’d at my right hand;
Whose stripes I bore and clear’d the score
that they might quitted stand.
For surely none but God alone,
whose Grace transcends man’s thought,
For such as those that were his foes
like wonders would have wrought.
CXXXVI
And none but he such lenitee
and patience would have shown
To you so long, who did him wrong,
and pull’d his judgements down.
How long a space (O stiff-neck’t Race!)
did patience you afford?
How oft did love you gently move
to turn unto the Lord?
CXXXVII
With cords of Love God often strove
your stubborn hearts to tame:
Nevertheless, your wickedness
did still resist the same.
If now at last Mercy be past
from you for evermore,
And Justice come in Mercies room,
yet grudge you no [. . .] therefore.
CXXXVIII
If into wrath God tu [. . .] ed hath
his Long-long [. . .] uffe [. . .] ing,
And now for Love you Vengeance prove,
it is an equal thing.
Your waxing worse, hath stopt the course
of wonted Clemency:
Mercy refus’d, and Grace misus’d,
call for severity.
CXXXIX
It’s now high time that every Crime
be brought to punishment:
VVrath long contain’d, and oft refrain’d,
at last must have a vent.
Justice [. . .] evere cannot fo [. . .] bear
to plague sin any longer;
But must inflict with hand mo [. . .] t strict
mischief upon the wronger.
CXL
In vain do they for Mercy pray,
the season being past,
Who had no care to get a share
therein, while time did last.
The men whose ear refus’d to hear
the voice of Wisdom’s cry,
Earn’d this reward, that none regard
him in his misery.
CXLI
It doth agree with Equitee,
and with God’s holy Law,
That those should dy eternally,
that death upon them draw.
The Soul that sin’s damnation win’s;
for so the Law ordains:
Which Law is just [. . .] and therefore must
such suffer endless pains.
CXLII
Etern [. . .] l smart is the desert
ev’n of the least offence;
Then wonder not if I allot
to you this Recompence:
But wonder more that, since so sore
and lasting plagues are due
To every sin, you liv’d therein,
who well the danger knew.
CXLIII
God hath no joy to crush or ‘stroy,
and ruine wretched wights:
But to display the glorious ray
of Justice he delights.
To manifest he doth detest
and throughly hate all sin,
By plaguing it, as is most fit,
this shall him glory win.
CXLIV
Then at the Bar arraigned are
an impudenter sort,
Who to evade the guilt that’s laid
upon them, thus retort;
How could we cease thus to transgress?
how could we Hell avoid,
Whom God’s Decree shut out from thee,
and sign’d to be destroy’d?
CXLV
Whom God ordains to endless pains
by Laws unalterable,
Repentance true, Obedience new,
to save such are unable:
Sorrow for sin no good can win
to such as are rejected;
Ne can they give, not yet believe
that never were elected.
CXLVI
Of man’s faln Race who can true Grace
or Holiness obtain?
Who can convert or change his heart,
if God with-hold the same?
Had we apply’d our selves, and tri’d
as much as who did most
Gods love to gain, our busie pain
and labour had been lost.
CXLVII
Christ readily makes this reply;
I damn you not because
You are rejected, or not elected;
but you have broke my Laws.
It is but vain your wits to strain
the E [. . .] d and Me [. . .] ns to sever:
Men fondly seek to dart or break
what God hath link’d together.
CXLVIII
Whom God will save, such he will have
the means of life to use:
Whom he’l pass by, shall chuse to di [. . .],
and ways of life refuse.
He that fore-sees and fore-decrees,
in wisdom order’d has,
That man’s free-will electing ill
shall bring his Will to pass.
CXLIX
High God’s Decree, as it is free,
so doth it none compel
Against their will to good or ill;
i [. . .] forceth none to Hell.
They have their wish whose Souls perish
with torments in Hell-fire:
Who rather chose their souls to lose,
then leave a loose desire.
CL
God did ordain sinners to pain;
and I to hell send none,
But such as swe [. . .] v’d, and have deserv’d
destruction as their own.
His pleasure is, that none fr [. . .] ss
and endless happiness
Be barr’d, but such as wrong [. . .] much
by wilful wickedness.
CLI
You (sinful crew!) no other knew
but you might be elect:
Why did you then your selves condemn?
why did you me reject?
Where was your strife to gain that life
which lasteth evermore?
You never knock’t, yet say God lock’t
against you heavens door.
CLII
‘Twas no vain task to knock, to ask,
whilst life continued.
Who ever sought Heav’n as he ought,
and seeking perished?
The lowly-meek who truly seek
for Christ and for salvation,
There’s no Decree whereby such be
ordain’d to condemnation.
CLIII
You argue then; But abject men,
whom God resolves to spill,
Cannot repent, nor their hearts rent;
ne can they change their will.
Not for his Can is any man
adjudged unto hell:
But for his Will [. . .] to do what’s ill,
and nilling to do well.
CLIV
I often stood tend’ring my Bloud
to wash away your guilt:
And eke my Sprite to frame you right,
lest your souls should be spilt.
But you, vile race, rejected Grace
when Grace was freely proffer’d:
No changed heart, no heav’nly part
would you, when it was offer’d.
CLV
Who wilfully the remedy
of Grace and Life contemned,
Cause have the same themselves to blame,
if now they be co [. . .] demned.
You have your selves, you and none else,
your selves have done to die:
You chose the way to your decay,
and perish’d wilfully.
CLVI
These words apale and daunt them all;
dismai’d, and all amort,
Like stocks they stand at Christs left hand,
and dare no more retort.
Then were brought near, with trembling fear
a number numberless
Of blind Heathen and b [. . .] utish men,
that did Gods Law transgress.
CLVII
Whose wicked ways, Christ open lays,
and makes their sins appear,
They making plea’s the case to ease,
if not themselves to clear.
Thy written word (say they) good Lord
we never did enjoy:
We not refus’d nor it abus’d,
Oh do not us destroy.
CLVIII
You ne’r abus’d nor yet refus’d
my written Word, you plead;
That’s t [. . .] ue, (quoth he) therefore shall ye
the less be punished.
You shall not smart for any part
of other mens offence,
But for your own transgression
receive due recompence.
CLIX
But we were blind, say [. . .] hey, in mind;
too dim was natures light,
Our only guide (as hath been try [. . .] d)
to bring us to the sight
Of our estate degenerate,
and cu [. . .] st by Adam’s fall;
How we were born and lay forlorn
in bondage and in th [. . .] all.
CLX
We did not know a Christ till now,
nor bow fal [. . .] man he saved:
Else should we not, right well we wo [. . .] ,
have so our selves behaved.
We should have mourn’d, we should have turn’d
from sin at thy reproof,
And been more wise through thine advice
for our own Souls behoof.
CLXI
But natures light shin’d not so bright
to teach us the right way:
We might have lov’d it, & well improv’d it,
and yet have gone astray.
The Judge most high makes this reply;
you ignorance pretend,
Dimness of sight, and want of light
your course Heav’n-ward to bend:
CLXII
How came your mind to be so blind?
I once you knowledge gave,
Clearness of sight, and judgement right;
who did the same deprave?
If to your cost you have it lost,
and quite defac’d the same;
Your own desert hath caus’d your smart,
you ought not me to blame.
CLXIII
Your selves into a pit of wo
your own transgressions led:
If I to none my grace had shown,
who had been injured?
If to a few, and not to you,
I shew’d a way of life,
My Grace so free, you clearly see,
gives you no ground of strife.
CLXIV
‘Tis [. . .] ain to tell, you wot full well,
if you in time had known
Your Misery and Remedy,
your actions had it shown.
You, sinful crew, have not been true
unto the light of Nature;
No [. . .] done the good you understood,
nor owned your Creator.
CLXV
He that the Light, because ‘tis Light,
hath used to despize,
Would not the Light, shining more bright,
be likely for to prize.
If you had lov’d and well improv’d
your knowledge and dim sight,
Herein your pain had not been vain,
your plagues had been more light.
CLXVI
Then to the Bar all they drew near
who dy’d in infancy,
And never had or good or bad
effected pers’nally;
But from the womb unto the tomb
were straightway carried,
(Or at the least, ere they transgrest)
who thus began to plead.
CLXVII
If for our own transgression,
or disobedience,
We here did stand at thy left hand,
j [. . .] st were the recompence:
But Adam’s guilt our souls hath spilt,
his fault is charg’d upon us;
And that alone hath overthrown,
and utterly undone us.
CLXVIII
Not we, but he, a [. . .] e of the Tree,
whose fruit was interdicted:
Yet on us all of his sad fall
the punishment’s inflicted.
How could we sin who had not bin?
or how is his sin our
Without consent, which to prevent
we never had a pow’r?
CLXIX
O great Creator, why was our nature
depraved and forlorn?
Why so defil’d, and made so vild
Whilst we were yet unborn?
If it be just, and needs we must
transgressors reckon’d be,
Thy mercy, Lord, to us afford,
which sinners hath set free.
CLXX
Behold, we see Adam [. . .] et free,
and sav’d from his tre [. . .] pass,
Whose sinful fall hath split us all,
and brought us to this pass.
Canst thou deny us once to try,
or grace to us to tender,
When he finds grace before thy face,
that was the chief offender?
CLXXI
Then answered the Judge most dread;
God doth such doom forbid,
T [. . .] at men should die eternally
for what they never did.
But what you call old Adam’s Fall,
and only his Trespass,
You call amiss to call it his:
both his and yours it was.
CLXXII
He was design’d of all mankind
to be a publick Head,
A common Root whence all should shoot,
and stood in all their stead:
He stood and fell, did ill or well,
not for himself alone,
But for you all, who now his Fall
and trespass would disown.
CLXXIII
If he had stood, then all his brood
had been established
In Gods true love, never to move,
nor once awry to tread:
Then all his Race my Fathers Grace
should have enjoy’d for ever,
And wicked Sprights by subtil sleights
could them have harmed never.
CLXXIV
Would you have griev’d to have receiv’d
through Adam so much good,
As had been your for evermore,
if he at first had stood?
Would you have said, We ne’r obey’d
nor did thy Laws regard;
It ill befits with benefits
us, Lord, so to reward?
CLXXV
Since then to share in his welfare
you could have been content,
You may with reason share in his treason,
and in the punishment.
Hence you were born in state forlorn,
with natures so dep [. . .] aved:
Death was your due, because that you
had thus your selves behaved.
CLXXVI
You think if we had been as he,
whom God did so betrust,
all for a paltry lust.
Had you been made in Adam’s stead,
you would like things have wrought;
And so into the self-same wo
your selves and yours have brought.
CLXXVII
I may deny you once to try,
or Grace to you to tender,
Though he finds grace be [. . .] ore my face
who was the chief offender:
Else should my Grace cease to be Grace,
for it should not be free,
If to release whom I shall please
I have not libertee.
CLXXVIII
I [. . .] upon one what’s due to none
I frankly shall bestow,
And on the rest shall not think best
compassions skirt to throw,
Whom injure I? will you envy,
and grudge at others weal?
Or me accuse, who do refuse
your selves to help and heal?
CLXXIX
Am I alone of what’s my own
no Master or [. . .] o Lord?
Or if I am, how can you claim
w [. . .] at I to some afford?
Will you demand G [. . .] ace at my hand,
and challenge what is mine?
Will you teach me whom to set free,
and thus my Grace confine?
CLXXX
You sinners are, and such a share
as sinners may expect,
Such you shall have, for I do save
none but mine own Elect.
Yet to compare your sin with their
who liv’d a longer time,
I do confess yours is much less,
though ev’ry sin’s a crime:
CLXXXI
A crime it is: therefore in bliss
you may not hope to dwell:
But unto you I shall allow
the easiest room in hell.
The glorious King thus answering,
they cease and plead no longer:
Their consciences must needs confess
his Reasons are the stronger.
CLXXXII
Thus all mens plea’s the Judge with ease
doth answer and confute,
Until that all both great and small,
are silenced and mute.
Vain hopes are cropt, all mouths are stopt,
sinners have nought to say,
But that ‘tis just, and equal most
they should be damn’d for ay.
CLXXXIII
Now what remains, but that to pains
and everlasting smart
Christ should condemn the sons of men,
which is their just desert?
Oh ru [. . .] ul plights of sinful wights!
Oh wretches all forlorn!
That happy been they ne’r had seen
the Sun, or not been born.
CLXXXIV
Yea, now it would be good they could [. . .]
themselves annihilate,
And cease to be, themselves to free
from such a fearful state.
Oh happy Dogs, and Swine, and Frogs!
yea, Serpents generation!
Who do not fear this doom to hear,
and sentence of D [. . .] mnation!
CLXXXV
This is their state so de [. . .] perate:
their sins are fully known;
Their vani [. . .] ies and villanies
Before the world are shown.
As they are gross and impious,
so are their numbers more
Then motes i’ th’ air, or then their hair,
or sands upon the shore.
CLXXXVI
Divine Justice offended is,
a [. . .] d Satisfaction claime [. . .] h:
Gods wrathful ire kindled like fire
against them fiercely flameth.
Their Judge severe doth quite cashire
and all their Pleas off take,
That never a man, or dare, or can
a further Answer make.
CLXXXVII
Their mouthes are shut, each man i [. . .] put
to silence and to shame:
Nor have they ought within their thought
Christs Justice for to blame;
The Judge is just, and plague them must,
nor will he mercy shew
(For Mercy’s day is past away)
to any of this Crew.
CLXXXVIII
The Judge is strong; doers of wrong
cannot his Power withstand:
None can by flight run out of sight,
nor scape out of his hand.
Sad is their sta [. . .] e; for Advocate
to plead their Cause there’s none:
None to prevent their punishment,
or misery to bemo [. . .] e.
CLXXXIX
O dismal day! whither shall they
for help or succour flee?
To God above, with hopes to move
their greatest Enemee?
His wrath is g [. . .] eat, whose burning heat
to flood of Tears can [. . .] lake:
His word stands fast, that they be cast
into the burning Lake.
CXC
To Chr [. . .] st their Judge? he doth adjudge
them to the Pit of Sorrow:
Nor will he hear or cry, or tear,
nor respite them on morrow.
To Heav’n? Alas they cannot pass,
it is against them shut:
To enter there (O heavy chear!)
they out of hopes are put.
CXCI
U [. . .] to their Treasures, or to their Pleasures?
all these have been forsaken:
Had they full Coffers to make large offers,
their Gold would not be taken.
Unto the place where whilome was
their birth and education?
Lo! Christ begins for their great sins
to fire the Earths foundation:
CXCII
And by and by the flaming Sky
shall drop like moulten Lead
About their ears, t’ increase their fears
and aggravate their dread.
To Angels good that ever stood
in their integrity,
Should they betake themselves, and make
their suit incessantly?
CXCIII
They neither skill, nor do they will
to work them any ease:
They will not mourn to see them burn,
nor beg for their release.
To wicked men, their brethren
in sin and wickedness,
Should they make mone? their case is one;
they’re in the same distress.
CXCIV
Ah, cold comfort, and mean support
from such like Comforters!
Ah, little joy of Company,
and fellow-sufferers!
Such shall increase their hearts disease,
and add unto their wo,
Because that they brought to decay
themselves and many moe.
CXCV
Unto the Saints with sad complaints.
should they themselves apply?
They’re not dejected nor ought affected
with all their misery.
Friends stand aloof, and make no proof
what Prayers or Tears can do:
Your godly friends are now more friends
to Christ then unto you.
CXCVI
Where tender love mens hearts did move
unto a sympathy,
And bearing part of others smart
in their anxiety;
Now such compassion is out of fashion,
and wholly laid aside:
No friend so near, but Saints to hear
their judgement can abide.
CXCVII
One natural Brother beholds another
in this astonied fit,
Yet sorrows not thereat a jot,
nor pities him a whit.
The godly wife conceives no grief,
nor can she shed a tear
For the sad state of her dear Mate,
when she his doom doth hear.
CXCVIII
He that was erst a Husband pierc’t
with sense of Wives distress,
Whose tender heart did bear a part
of all her grievances,
Shall mourn no more as heretofore
because of her ill plight;
Although he see her now to be
a damn’d forsaken wight.
CXCIX
The tender Mother will own no other
of all her numerous brood,
But such as stand at Christs right hand
acquitted through his Blood.
The pious Father had now much rather
his graceless Son should lye
In Hell with Devils, for all his evils
burning eternally:
CC
Then God most High should injury
by sparing him sustain;
And doth rejoyce to hear Christs voice
adjudging him to pain.
Who having all (both great and small)
convinc’t and silenced,
Did then proceed their Doom to read,
and thus it uttered;
CCI
Ye [. . .] inful wights, and cursed sprights,
that work Iniquity,
Depart together from me for ever
to endless Misery.
Your portion take in that sad Lake
where Fire and Brimstone flameth:
Suffer the smart, which your desert
as its du [. . .] wages claimeth.
CCII
Oh pierceing words more sharp then Swords!
what, to depart from Thee,
Whose face before for evermore
the best of Pleasures be!
What! to depart (unto our smart)
from thee Eternally!
To be for ay banish’t away
with Devils company!
CCIII
What! to be sent to Punishment,
and flames of Burning Fire!
To be surrounded, and eke confounded
with God’s Revengeful Ire!
What! to abide, not for a tide,
these Torments, but for Ever!
To be released, or to be eased,
not after years, but Never!
CCIV
Oh, fearful Doom! now there’s no room
for hope, or help at all:
Sentence is past which ay shall last,
Christ will not it recall.
There might you hear them rent and tear
the Air with their out-c [. . .] ies:
The hideous noise of their sad voice
ascendeth to the skies.
CCV
They wring their hands, their caitiff-hands,
and gnash their teeth for terrour:
They cry, they rore for anguish sore,
and gnaw their tongues for horrour.
But get away without delay;
Christ pities not your cry:
Depart to Hell [. . .] there may you yell
and roar Eternally.
CCVI
That word Depart, maugre their heart;
drives every wicked one,
With mighty pow’r, the self-same hour
far from the Judges throne.
Away they’re cast by the strong blast
of his Death-threatning mouth:
They [. . .] lee full fast, as if in hast;
although they be full loath.
CCVII
As chaff that’s dry, and dust doth fly
before the Northern wind:
Right so are they chased away,
and can no Refuge find.
They hasten to the Pit of wo,
guarded by Angels stout:
Who to fulfil Christ’s holy will
attend this wicked Rout.
CCVIII
Whom having brought, as they are taught
unto the brink of Hell
(That dismal place far from Christ’s face,
where Death and Darkness dwell:
Where God’s fierce ire kindleth the fire,
and Vengeance feeds the flame
With piles of wood, and brimstone flood,
that none can quench the same.)
CCIX
With Iron bands they bind their hands
and cursed feet together,
And cast them all, both great and small,
into that Lake for ever.
Where day and night, without respite,
they wail, and cry, and howl
For tor’ [. . .] ring pain, which they sustain
in Body and in Soul.
CCX
For day and night, in their despight,
their torments smoak ascendeth:
Their pain and grief have no relief,
their anguish never endeth.
There must they lye, and never dye;
though dying every day:
There must they dying ever lye;
and not consume away.
CCXI
Dye fain they would, if dye they cou [. . .]
but death will not be had [. . .]
Gods dire [. . .] ul wrath their bodies hath
for ev’r Immortal made.
They live to lie in misery.
and bear eternal wo:
And live they must whil’st God is just,
that he may plague them so.
CCXII
But who can tell the plagues of Hell,
and torments exquisite?
Who can relate their dismal state,
and terrours infinite?
Who fare the best, and feel the least,
yet feel that Punishment
Whereby to nought they should be brought,
if God did not prevent.
CCXIII
The least degree of misery
there felt’s incomparable,
The lightest pain they there sustain
more then intollerable.
But Gods great pow’r from hour to hour
upholds them in the fire,
That they shall not consume a jot,
nor by its force expire.
CCXIV
But ah, the wo they u [. . .] dergo
(they more then all beside)
Who had the light, and knew the right,
yet would not it abide!
The sev’ [. . .] -fold smart, which to their part
and portion doth fall,
Who Christ his Grace would not embrace,
nor hearken to his call!
CCXV
The Amorites and Sodomites,
although their plagues be sore,
Yet find some ease, compar’d to these,
who feel a great deal more.
Almighty God, whose Iron Rod
to smite them never [. . .] ins,
Doth most declare his Justice rare
in plaguing these mens [. . .] ins.
CCXVI
The pain of loss their souls doth toss
[. . .] nd wond’rously distress,
To think what they have cast away
by wilful wickedness.
We might have been redeem’d from si [. . .],
think they, and liv’d above,
Being possest of heav’nly rest,
and joying in Gods love.
CCXVII
But wo, wo, wo our souls unto!
we would not happy be;
And therefore bear Gods vengeance here
to all Eternitee.
Experience and woful sence
must be our painful teachers,
Who [. . .] ‘ ould believe, nor credit give
unto our faithful Preachers.
CCXVIII
Thus shall they lie, and wail, and cry,
tormented, and tormenting
Their galled hearts with poyson’d darts;
but now too late repenting.
There let them dwell i’ th’ flames of hell,
there leave we them to burn,
And back agen unto the men
whom Christ acquits return.
CCXIX
The Saints behold with courage bold,
and tha [. . .] kful wonderment,
To see all those that were their foes
thus sent to punishment:
Then do they sing unto their King
a song of endless praise [. . .]
They praise his Name, and do proclaim,
that just are all his ways.
CCXX
Thus with great joy and melody
to Heav’n they all ascend,
Him there to praise with sweetest layes,
And Hymns that never end.
Where with long Rest they shall be blest,
and nought shall them annoy:
Where they shall see as seen they be,
and whom they love, enjoy.
CCXXI
O glorious Place! where face to face
Jehovah may be seen,
By such as were sinners whilere,
and no dark vail between.
Where the Sun-shine, and Light divine,
of Gods bright Countenance
Doth rest upon them every one
with sweetest influence.
CCXXII
O blessed state of the Renate!
O Wond’rous Happiness
To which they’r brought, beyond what thought
can reach, or words express!
Grief’s water-course, and Sorrow’s sourse
are turn’d to joyful streams.
Their old distress and heaviness
a [. . .] e vanished like dreams.
CCXXIII
For God above in arms of love
doth dearly them embrace,
And fills their sprights with such delights
and pleasures in his grace;
As shall not fail, nor yet grow stale
through frequency of use:
Nor do they fear Gods Favour there
to forfeit by abuse.
CCXXIV
For there the Saints are perfect Saints,
and holy ones indeed,
From [. . .] ll the sin, that dwelt within
their mortal bodies, freed:
Made Kings and Priests to God, through Christs
dear loves transcendency,
There to remain, and there to reign
with him Eternally.