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2.7.1: The Day of Doom Or, A Description of the Great and Last Judgment (1662)

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    63171
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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.


    2.7.1: The Day of Doom Or, A Description of the Great and Last Judgment (1662) is shared under a not declared license and was authored, remixed, and/or curated by LibreTexts.

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