Love Breathing Thanks and Praise

THE FIRST PART.

Eternal God! this worm lifts up the head, And looks to thee, by thee encouraged. Cheer’d by thy bounty, it would speak thy praise, Whose wondrous love hath measured all my days: If thou vouchsafe to make a worm rejoice, Give him a thankful praising heart and voice. Thy shining glory blessed angels see: Angels must sing thy highest praise, not we But if thy warming beams cause worms to speak, Their baser part will not the concert break. When time was yet no measure, when the sun Its rapid motion had not yet begun; When heaven, and earth, and sea were yet unframed, Angels and men, and all things else unnamed, When there did nothing else exist but thee, Thou wast the same, and still the same wilt be. When there was none to know or praise thy name, Thou wast in perfect blessedness the same. The Father, Word and Spirit, One in Three, Trinity doth with unity agree. Th’ eternal life, that quickens all that lives: The soul of souls; the light which all light gives Immense and boundless, present every where: Beyond all place and creatures, thou art there, Uncomprehended, comprehending all: Foreknowing whatsoever shall befal. Uncaused, thou causest all that hath a being: Unknown, thou knowest; unseen, thou art all-seeing Though necessary, yet without constraint; Unmoved, yet moving all, dost never faint. All things depend on thee, and thou on none; And changing all things, art unchanged alone. One in th’ innumerable multitude; Perfectly ordering things which seem most rode. Infinite Power, one accent of whose breath, Can sentence Heav’n and earth to life or death. Yea, by one act of efficacious will Canst make and unmake worlds; give life, and kill. Reason transcending all created reason, Not only knowing all things in their season, But with a knowledge, perfect, infinite, Knowing thyself in thine eternal light. A knowledge which doth utterly excel The knowledge of the earth, the Heav’ns, and Hell; To know ten thousand worlds, were but to know The finite streams which from thy will do now i Existents, futures, all contingencies Conceal’d from man, are naked to thine eyep: Of every thing thou knowest the form and cause; As giving all their nature and their laws. Nature’s whole frame it but one piece to thee. The place and use of all things thou dost see. The globes of Heav’n and earth are in thy span; Thou seest not things by parcels, like poor man.

Our narrow minds see here and there a letter, Not rightly placed, and therefore read no better We make the events of this day our sorrow, Because we know not what will be to-morrow. Things present, past, and future; old and new, Thou seest entirely with one single view. Thou seest all at home that ’s understood: Loving thyself thou lovest all that ’s good. Goodness itself, and perfect excellence, Transcending human reason, will, and sense; Good in thyself, and to thyself alone, Before thou wast to any creature known. Blest in thy own eternal pleasing sight; Thy own eternal love, thy own delight. Those that can find in thee no greater good, Than that thou giv’st them life, and health, and food, And bountifully from thy ample treasure Blessest thy creatures with desired pleasure, Set up themselves and do the worst they can, To make themselves the Gods, and thee the man. They that can love thee but for loving them, Make thee the casket, and themselves the gem. To love thyself, is infinitely better, Than if love made a world of worlds its debtor. Thy own perfections by attraction move, As the chief formal object of man’s love. Though our own good we may, and must intend; Thy simple goodness is man’s chiefest end. They that deny this, never knew love’s force, Which to mere excellence hath its recourse Or never well considered love’s end, Which unto good, for goodness’ sake doth tend.

To be man’s end, is but to be most loved;

And good ’s the loadstone by which love is moved!

What though to thee the creature nothing add,

That proves thee perfect, neither weak nor bad;

And therefore fit to be the final cause,

Which all hearts by attractive goodness draws:

Love is the final and enjoying act;

Closing with thee by thy magnetic tract:

Not as it mourneth for the good we want;

Nor as it after distant good doth pant;

But partly as it reacheth its desires:

xlnd more, as it with pleasure thee admires.

This love, besides its object, hath no end:

It doth not to some higher virtue tend:

But from a seed, grows up to higher stature

Of divine complacence, which is its nature.

All other grace is but the means to it:

They draw the bow; but love the mark doth hit.

But sinners lost in self rise not above

The lower region of their own self-love.

Experience assures me that I can

Love a most learned, wise, and holy man

Unseen, my very heart is to him knit,

Without respect to any benefit.

Reason convinceth me that I should err,

If the known best, my love should not prefer:

Should I not rather choose myself alone

To be annihilated, or undone,

Than the whole world should bear the same distress,

Or towns, or countries; seeing I am less?

Or the Creator should take down the sun?

Destroy the earth, or rivers cease to run?

Reason taught heathens that their country’s good

Was worth the shedding of their vital blood:

A faithful subject thinks his life a thing

Meet to be cast away to save his king.

True soldiers would choose death, if so they may

But save their captains’ lives, or win the day.

Many have chose to die through love of friends,

Preferring them above all selfish ends.

It is not reason but blind selfish passion,

If one refuse to die to save a nation.

A silly useless wretch should not refuse

His death, before a useful man’s, to choose.

My neighbour as myself I must respect,

And for my brethren must my life reject.*

O doleful proof of man’s unhappy fall!

That loves not God above himself and all!

And if I love him most, He is my end:

Man’s love above the lover must ascend!

‘But O how wisely hast thou made the twist! To love thee and myself do well consist. Love is the closure of con-naturals; The soul’s return to its originals: As every brook is towards the ocean bent; And all things to their proper element And as the inclination of the sight, How small soever, is unto the light: As the touch ‘d needle pointeth toward the pole; Thus unto thee inclines the holy soul It trembleth and is restless till it come Unto thy bosom, where it is at home.

* 1 John iii, 16,

b3 Yet no such union dare the soul desire

As parts have with the whole, and sparks to fire;

But as dependent, low, subordinate,

Such as thy will of nothing did create.

As tendeth to the sun the smallest eye

Of silly vermin, or the poorest fly.

My own salvation when I make my end,

Full mutual love is all that I intend.

And in this closure though I happy be,

It’s by intending and admiring thee.

O happy grace! which feeds above the skies!

And causest man above himself to rise!

And saves what it denys! when worldlings lose

What they despised, and what they loved and chose!

The more I do myself in love neglect,

And only to thy goodness have respect,

When most myself I from myself abstract,

This is the sweetest and self-pleasing act!

Even when I seem to leave myself behind,

Coming to thee, with thee myself I find.

When I am least the object of my love,

And unto thee do most entirely move,

My soul, the willing agent, drawn by grace,

Will rest in love, and vision of thy face.

But in this wilderness and vale of tears, How is love damped by ignorance and fears! For no man’s love his knowledge can exceed: And guilty terrors disaffection breed. Mortals can know thee but as in a glass. True formal knowledge doth man’s mind surpass. No thoughts or names are adequate to thee: They are but metaphors from what we see;

Which first thy works and image signify; And thence to thee men’s rising minds apply. As far as faith comes short of perfect sight, And this dark prison of the glorious light; So far this distant mediate love ’s below The heavenly love, which mortals cannot know. What will it be to love thee face to face, When thou appear’st so lovely in this glass?

Thy goodness is not to that world confined. To worthless, sinful mortals thou art kind: Thy mercies to the smallest are not small: To some more wonderful, but great to all. Thy matchless power doth itself express, Upon the smallest worm, or pile of grass. The methods of thy wisdom are profound: All must admire the depths which none can sound.

When man from holy love, turn’d to a lie, Thy image lost, became thine enemy; O what a seal did love and wisdom find To re-imprint thine image on man’s mind! Thou sent’st the signet from thine own right hand. Made man for them that had themselves unman’d. Th’ eternal Son, who in thy bosom dwelt; Essential burning love, men’s hearts to melt: Thy lively image: he that knew thy mind: Fit to illuminate and heal the blind. With love’s great office thou didst him adorn: Redeemer of the helpless and forlorn: On love’s chief work and message he was sent: Our flesh he took, our pain he underwent: Thy pardoning, saving love to man did preach: The Reconciler stood up in the breach:

The uncreated Image of thy love,

By his assumption, and the holy dove,

On his own flesh thy image first imprest;

And by that stamp renews it on the rest.

Love was his nature, doctrine, life and breath:

Love flamed in his sufferings and death:

Thus Love thine image, love on man doth print:

This coin, thy Son, thy Word and Spirit mint.

He that will have it true, must have it here;

Though love prepare its way by grief and fear:

Yea, oft by these expresseth its desire;

They are sincere when kindled by its fire.

These are love’s methods, passing tongue and pen

Wonders and joys, to angels, and to men.

THE SECOND PART.

Love, which can make its object, did produce. This worm, in season, for its proper use: In the earth’s garden, the most happy land, [maud: Where Christians dwell, and Christian kings com-Where plenteous streams of living waters flow; Where the first-fruits of paradise do grow: Whence proud, dark, bloody popery was driven: To whom the opened book of God was given. Where sacred guides, and books, and helps abound; And all that will, may hear the joyful sound. My parents here thy skilful hand did plant, Free from the snares of riches and of want. Their tender care was us’d for me alone, Because thy Providence gave them but one:

Their earthly precepts so possess’d my heart,

That taking root, they did not thence depart.

Thy wisdom so contrived my education,

As might expose me to the least temptation.

Much of that guilt thy mercy did prevent,

In which my spring-time I should else have spent.

Yet sin sprung up and early did appear; In love of play, and lies produced by fear An appetite pleased with forbidden fruit, A proud delight in literate repute; Excess of pleasure in vain tales, romances; Time spent in feigned histories and fancies: In idle talk, conform to company; Childhood and youth had too much vanity. Conscience was oft resisted when it check’d, And holy duty I did much neglect.

Yet patience bore, thy spirit still did strive, Restless convictions still were kept alive. Thou would’st not give me over, till thy grace Revived thy image which sin did deface. Thou strangely put’st such books into my hand, As caused me my case to understand: As touch’d my conscience, wakened my heart, And laid it under careful fears and smart. And made me question with a deeper sense, Whither my soul must go when it goes hence.

Then did thy light detect the vanity Of all the joys and hopes below the sky. The fruitless bustle which the worldling makes, The madness of the course the sinner takes; The wicked world I thought a Bedlam was; And senseless sinners’ hearts were stone or brass; b 2 I wondered men could live so carelessly, Ready to pass into eternity! And O how easily could I confute All that against a holy life dispute!

I wondered at myself that staid so long, So little touch ‘d with arguments so strong! Laughing and playing, as if all were well, For aught I knew, near to the brink of Hell. I marvell’d at my former senselessness! My sin and misery I did confess. And now what horrid darkness on my mind, Never before lamented, did I find! Sin was like sickness in my flesh and bone, Which only by the book before was known.

Christ’s oflice now I better understood, The need my soul had of his cleansing blood. How insufficient of myself I was, To bring my own deliverance to pass: Now I began to feel as well as see, How near the word of grace concerned me: That all means else in Heaven and earth were vain, My peace with God, and pardon to obtain. To whom else should my sinful soul have gone? But for my Saviour, I had been undone. Oh my dear God! how precious is thy love! Thus thou prepar’st us for the life above.

The heav’nly powers which made my heart to quaU c My prison bonds and doors did open shake. Sin now was folly, villany, and shame: God, Heav’n, Christ, holiness seem not the same: How thou would’st use me, yet I did not know, Whether my sin thou would’st forgive, or no:

But well I saw there was no turning back. Nature is loth to go to Hell awake Thy Gospel told me, I might mercy find: Nothing but Hell and darkness was behind. At last thy grace brought me to this conclusion, To hope and seek I fix’d my resolution.

0 my dear God! how precious is thy love! Thy griefs prepare us for the joys above.

Yet these my wounds and smarts were not so great

As many’s who sat long in scorners’ seat.

Nor did the change so suddenly begin,

As to make known when special grace came in

In my young years thou hadst convinced my soul;

Conscience did childish vanity controul:

1 liked thy ways as best: I honour’d those That folly shunn’d, and holy wisdom chose; Thou hadst prevented oaths and horrid crimes: And the enormous vices of the times: Preserving me from youthful lusts and rage: The thoughts of thee increasing with my age. This greatest change began when I was green, Having not much above three lustres seen: Therefore I doubted whether it were true, Because its entrance I no better knew.

Long was I sadly questioning thy grace, Because thy Spirit’s steps I could not trace. The difference is so great ‘twixt Heav’n and Hell, That those must differ much who there must dwell. I fear’d the change which raised my soul no higher, Would not suffice to save me from Hell -fire. But above all, I thought so hard a heart Could not among the living have a part.

I thought thy son would never heal my sore,

Unless my tears and sorrow had been more.

I wonder’d. at my great stupidity!

That could not weep when I deserved to die.

I wonder’d things so great as Heav’n and Hell,

Did on my heart with no more feeling dwell ’

That words which such amazing things import,

Did not sink deeper, and my soul transport!

That things of everlasting consequence

Did not affect me with a deeper sense I

And that a soul so near its final doom,

Could give these worldly trifles any room!

That on these shadows I could cast an eye,

While death and judgment, Heav’n and Hell stood by.

1 wonder’d, when my odious sin was named,

I was no more confounded and ashamed.

Many a time I begg’d a tender heart,

And never pray’d so much for joy, as smart.

I could have kiss’d the place where I did kneel,

If what my tongue had spoke, my heart could feel.

These were my cries, when I to thee did speak,

O that this heart of stone might melt or break!

These were my groans, this was my daily breath,

0 save me from hard-heartedness and death. This was the title which I used to take, Senseless, hard-hearted wretch, that cannot wake. But as thy wisdom gives in fittest measure;

Not all at once; it’s meet we wait thy leisure.

1 thought that things unseen should pierce and melt, With as great passion as things seen and felt.

Hut now I find it is their proper part, To be most valued, to be next the heart!

To be the highest interest of the soul;

There to command, and all things else controul.

Thus must the little spark of fire be blown, Or else it will not flame, nor scarce be Imown; New-lighted candles, darken’d by the snuff, Are ready to go out with every puff: So it was long before the heav’nly spark Conquer’d my snuff, and shined in the dark i My feeble new-born soul began with crying: My infant-life did seem to me still dying: Betwixt supporting hope, and sinking fears, My doubting soul did languish many years. O my dear God! how precious is thy love I Thy troubling motions tend to rest above.

Thus grace like nature entereth in a seed; Which with man’s labour, heav’nly dews must feed. Whose virtue and first motions no eye sees, But after comes to ripeness by degrees: Our father’s tender love doth much appear, When he with useless crying babes can bear: When we the household’s grief and trouble are; He shews the more his patient nursing care. At first I wish’d that I could pray and weep: Thus when I could not go, I learn ‘d to creep: Then thou began’st to loose my infant tongue; And taught’st me, Abba, Father, when but young; First by the book, and some un worded groans; After by heart-endited words and moans. Thy diet first was milk, then stronger food: But always that which wholesome was and good. Though preachers were too often dry and dull, Thy holy word was quick and powerful;

The many precious books of holy men,

Thy spirit used on me as his pen:

Perkins, Sibbs, Bolton, Whately, holy Dod,

Hildersham, Preston, other men of God,

How pertinently spake they to my case?

They open’d Heav’n and Hell before my face.

They did unfold the Gospel mysteries,

And set Christ crucified before my eyes:

They shamed sin, they shewed me the snare,

Opened the danger, charged me to beware.

In every duty they did me direct;

Told me the sin and danger of neglect;

They search’d my heart, help’d me to try my state,

My earthly mind they help’d to elevate.

What strong and quick’ning motives did they brin

To raise my heart, and wind the slack’ned spring!

These happy counsellors were still at hand;

The maps and landscapes of the holy land.

This food was not lock’d from me; but I could

Go read a holy sermon when I would.

How cheaply kept I many rare divines!

And for a little purchased golden mines!

My griefs they eased, my many doubts resolved:

With great delight I daily them revolved.

O my dear God! how precious is thy love!

Are these thy candles? what ’s the sun above?

At last my fears became my greatest fear, Lest that my whole religion should lie there: No man hath more of holiness than love: Which doth free souls by complacency move. Common grace goes as far as fear alone; This eateth not the meat, but gnaws the bone.

A slavish fear desireth leave to sin;

It doth hut tie the hands and wash the skin.

Hypocrites act a forced affected part:

Where love is absent, God hath not the heart.

He’ll not accept what’s done against men’s will,

That if they durst, had rather have done ill.

Oh my dear God! shall not my heart be thine? Then I shall wish it never had been mine. Objects of sense do soonest move the passion: But sure thou hast my highest estimation; My will’s resolved, choice is to be thine My soul and body I to thee resign: To thee the motions of my soul do bend, Thou art the scope to which my life doth tend. The motions of the higher faculties, The ruling powers are chiefest in thine eyes; Thou tak’st the love and homage which they pay; Though rebel passion doth not them obey. What makes melaughmost, makes me not most glad; What made me weep most, made me not most sad; My love to one choice friend hath more of passion, Than my much greater love to church and nation. O had I all my powers at command! As readily as tongue, or foot, or hand! My eyes should empty first the serious store, Because I love, so good a God no more. And next some of the florid blood should spend, Because the God of love I did offend. The rest should serve for oil unto love’s fire, Wasting in restless, vehement desire. At every mention of thy blessed name, My ravish ‘d soul should mount up in love’s flame.

Each sermon should Elias’ chariot be,

To carry up iwy longing heart to thee.

The saints’ assemblies I would make more bright,

Where many Heaven-aspiring flames unite.

And when my Lord’s love -sufferings I read,

My pierced and love- wounded heart should bleed.

Love should enforce each word when I do pray;

A flaming heart I ‘d on thy altar lay:

When halving hypocrites give thee a part,

Love should present my whole, though broken, heart.

When in thy world I read love’s mysteries,

There I would sweetly feed my greedy eyes.

Each Sacrament should be an eucharist: [twist.

There heart with heart, and love with love should

My friends and I would in our daily walk

Of love’s delights and entertainments talk;

My working love should others love excite:

In love I ‘d be a burning shining light.

Love through the lantern of my flesh should shine:

Who heard me speak, should hear that I am thine.

Remembring that in love I must be made

Equal to angels; I would learn their trade:

Yea, I would reach up to a higher shelf,

And as my copy, look to Christ himself.

Love’s work I’d do with all my diligence,*

Though men should think I were beside my sense. t

My daily love should rise before the sun,

And it in speed and constancy out-run:

Love as my life should fill up all my days;

Desire should be my pulse; my breath thy praise.

* Mark iii. 20, 21. t 2 Cor. 5, 13.

And I would wind up all the strings as high As blessed Paul was in his ecstacy. Heav’nly love should all my words indite, And be the soul and sense of all I write: My heart of love’s delight should sweetly think, I’d write with flaming fire instead of ink: And yet thy holy day should be my best, In it my thirsty soul should taste of rest; My daily food should increase to a feast. O my dear God! how precious is thy love!

0 could I mount thus to the flames above! These are love’s pantings after thee, my God!

Though with my soul imprison ‘d in a clod! My soul and love shall shortly be set free; And then my soul, my love shall feast on thee. If thou would’st grant the very thing I crave, And give me leave to choose what I would have; Should it be lusts, or sports, or fleshly pleasure? Should it be lordly rule, or earthly treasure? No’; I could gladly leave this dirt to swine, And let the world be theirs, if thou be mine! I would not thirst to taste of their delight. If lively faith might see the blessed sight!

1 would not be ambitious of a throne 1 I could have full content in God alone.

For men’s esteem and praise I would not care: All other wit and knowledge I could spare: To know and love my God should be my choice: Give me but this, and how shall I rejoice! Under my hand, Lord, this is it I choose: O give me this, whatever else I lose.

Is there no spark of love in this desire,

When a poor soul doth unto thee aspire?

To know and love thee is my thirst and strife

Nothing more makes me weary of my life,

Than that I feel no more the heav’nly fire;

But look and reach, and yet can reach no higher.

Here lies my pain! this is my daily sore:

I hate my heart for loving God no more.

Do I not love thee, when I love to love thee?

And when I set up nothing else above thee?

Next God himself, who is my end and rest,

Love which stands next thee, I esteem my best;

And loving God shall be my endless feast.

O my dear God! how precious is thy love! These are thy earnests of the life above. Fear is to love, as was the law to grace:

And as John Baptist goes before Christ’s face,

Preaching repentance; it prepares his way;

It is the first appearing of the day;

The dawning light which comes before the sun;

As he that to Christ’s sepulchre first run,

Excites the loved disciple to do better;

The certain news of life comes by the later.

Fear is love’s harbinger; it is the womb

Where love doth breed till time of ripeness come!

No wonder if it be not seen till then;

The seed and embryo are hid from men.

Though thou com’st in by love, fear draws the latch;

Fear makes the motion, tho’ love makes the match;

Fear is the soil that cherisheth the seed,

The nursery in which Heav’n’s plants do breed.

God first in nature finds self-love, and there

He takes advantage to implant his fear.

With some the time is long before the earth

Disclose her young one by a springy birth.

When Heav’n doth make our winter sharp and long,

The seed of love lies hid, or seems but young:

But when God makes it spring-time, his approach

Takes from the barren soul its great reproach;

WTien Heav’n’s reviving smiles and rays appear,

Then love begins to spring up above fear:

And if sin hinder not by cursed shade,

It quickly shoots up to a youthful blade:

And when Heav’n’s warmer beams and dews succeed,

That ’s ripen’d fruit which e’en now was but seed

Yet doth not flow’ring, fruitful love forget

Her nursing fear, there still her root is set:

In humble self-denial under-trod,

While flower and fruit are growing up to God,

After love’s birth -day, holy fear and care

The outward part of the new creature are.

As mortal man consists of flesh and skull,

So fear and love, on earth, do make one whole.

Love, as the soul, unseen, yet bears the sway;

Fear, as the flesh, more felt, must it obey.

By fear, love doth the daring flesh restrain,

And keepeth men awake by threat’ned pain.

This frame is mortal: not that love can die;

But leaving fears, will dwell alone on high:

Yet will retain a reverent fear of God;

But not the terror of his wrath or rod.

O my dear God! how precious is thy love!

How wise thy methods to the life above!

Thou first appear’dst in lightning, as to Paul i My heat abated, at thy feet 1 fall. The voice with which thy call thou didst begin, Was to convince me and reprove my sin. I first enquired of thee, who thou art? And then, what duty thou hadst made my part? Thus fear and care began; but the sweet name Of Jesus did reviving hope proclaim. And though long time it scarcely did appear, Yet sure some hidden spark of love was there. I loved thy holy word; good books were sweet, Those that did with my own condition meet. Heart-searching ministers were my delight, Those that did most my drowsy soul excite. I dearly loved all in whom I saw A love to thee, and care to keep thy law: The speech and sight of holy men was sweet; I honour ‘d them, and could have kiss’d their feet, I felt their living words go to the quick, When common idle prating made me sick. I dearly loved my serious bosom-friend, Who did in love my failings reprehend; That could my doubting troubled mind condole, And help to keep awake my sleepy soul; Who could unfold the mysteries of grace, And speak particularly to my case; Sweetly disclosing his experience; Extolling mercy from his own deep sense; One that had been instructed by the rod, And boiled over in the praise of God: Who early (and oft in the night) would rise, To offer Thee a thankful sacrifice:

Who warm’d me with his zeal when I was cold;

And my remissness lovingly controul’d;

Who stirr’d me up, and taught me how to pray;

And friendly watch’d and warn’d me every day.

And yet his piety did not exceed

His charity to those that were in need.

For such a friend I had, though after all,

Himself became my warning by his fall;

As more than one or two have done since then;

Shewing when grace withdraws, we are but men.

0 my dear God! how precious is thy love! These are the seeds; what are the fruits above?

Yet did I scarce discern that it was thee, Whom in the glass my pleased mind did see. But though thine image more incur my sense,

1 love it for the pourtray’d excellence:

It ’s not because the workmanship is fine, But good and holy; and because it ’s thine. I better know the map that’s in my hand: But yet, by it, I better love the land. Sure when I loved thy books and every letter; I loved the sense, and end, and author better. He loveth wisdom sure, who loves the wise; It’s like he loves the light, who loves his eyes. If one in prison had his life begun, Where he had never seen the shining sun; Yet if he dearly love the candle-light, He ‘d surely love the sun, which is more bright. Or if the sun had always clouded been, And men its scattered light alone had seen; It ’s true, our thoughts and love of that we see, Would more exact and satisfying be:

But to the unseen cause, as it is better, Our love of estimation would be greater. And even a knowledge general and dark, Would be the chooser of our end and mark. That love’s most sensible, which sense doth breed; But that commands, which faith and reason feed. The country than the map, I must confess, Is much less known; but is not known as less. A great and certain object should do more, Though darkly known, than trifles at my door: An unseen kingdom would with men prevail, To leave their native place and hoist up sail, And venture over stormy boisterous seas: (please. Which shews that great things, though unseen, most No wonder if the knowledge be most clear, Of little things which to the sense are near; These narrow parcels we can comprehend, When unseen greatness doth the mind transcend: But yet this moves the wheels, and is the spring, Before the nearest sight of some small thing. That is most loved, which I make my end; To which my great designs and actions tend; For which I can all other treasure spend, Although I do it darkly apprehend. O my dear God! how precious is thy love! Unveiled fully to thy saints above!

As fire first kindleth on the nearest wood, My sense thus fixed on the nearest good: And where sense fixed, there with greatest sense, The mind did exercise its complacence. It seem’d more cold to that which distant was Yet still looks farther as I forward pass.

And towards my end, the nearer Heav’n I go, My love abstracteth more from things before. Love seemeth to get ground, and fear decays, Doubting and grief give place to thanks and praise. And tho’ fear wrought with greatest sense before, And was in bulk and violence much more; Yet the least spark of love which is sincere Will save the soul tho’ mix’d with greater fear: Who loves God somewhat, and the world above him, Loving not God as God, he doth not love him. Love must be so far tried by the measure, That God be loved above all earthly treasure: But that supposed the least degree of love, With greater doubts and fears will saving prove. Great bodies with small souls are animate: Great heads with little eyes, are oculate. Small candles lighten rooms that are more large: A steward may have spacious lands in charge. The kingdom may be bigger than the king”; The diamond may be smaller than the ring: The house may bigger than the dweller be: Great fear and little love consistent be. But still true love to God and man are known, More by the fruits, than by the sense alone. It must be such a love, as when there’s need, Will venture, suffer, visit, clothe and feed. O my dear God! how precious is thy love! Which gently leads me to the joys above!

Love still went on, and lined out my way, Hedging me in, lest I should go astray: Yet after this how oft did I trangress! By light discourse, and wanton playfulness;

Eating to fullness: yea, even cards and dice,

Began my mind with pleasure to entice.

But providence did quickly interpose,

And by a wonder take me off from those.

Sin most ensnared by pleading lawfulness;

Though conscience often did the sin confess:

That wounded deepest which by seeming small,

Drew me to venture and resist thy call;

And knowingly the same oft to commit,

Thinking all Christians had as great as it.

Let all that would not be undone by sin,

Fly the occasions where it doth begin.

At first it ’s safe and pleasant to resist.

But O, how doleful is it to persist I

Sin doth not open its design at first:

Its first appearance sheweth not the worst:

Flattering the sense, it seems to be a friend;

But it proves pain and poison in the end.

Pray from temptation that you may be free,

If from the evil you would saved be.

Repentance must convince you that it’s gall,

Which first appeared innocent or small.

O how it fills the soul with guilty fears!

Our filial evidences blasts and tears!

Disturbs our peace, and feeds the gnawing worm!

Turns our tranquillity into a storm!

It puts a piercing sting into the cross,

And makes death dreadful as the greatest loss.

Yet all my folly mercy did forgive,

And did my guilty, wounded soul relieve.

Oh my dear God! how precious is thy love!

Heal me and fit me for the joys above!

Thy love in order to its well known ends, Shew’d me great mercy in meet guides and friends: Antient and grave divines, solid and staid, Who from experience both preach’d and pray’d: Learned, yet counting Christianity The chiefest learning and philosophy. These, as the fathers of my untaught youth, Were willing to communicate the truth. Their help and fruitful converse Was my stay, And great encouragement in all my way; More pleasant to me than my youthful games: My love doth grudgingly suppress their names. The company thou gav’st me was not vain, Not proud or factious, sensual or profane: But serious, sober, and obedient, Whose time was in their peaceful labours spent: Humble and meek, who made it their discourse, To stir up faith, and penitent remorse. Minding the lowest, and the highest things; Not meddling busily with states and kings. Making the holy word their chief delight, And meditating on it day and night: Spending that day in works of holiness; Hating profaneness, lewdness, and excess Content with little, yet aspiring high; Sparing no pains for immortality i Low in the world; but for salvation wise; Though scorn’d by faithless fools as too precise. O my dear God! how precious is thy love! Such thou wilt take to dwell with thee above.

Thy mercy did my younger studies guide: Sweet leisure and meet books thou didst provide; c And that I might thy love the better seer My tutor thou thyself was pleased to be: As honeycombs are made by patient bees, Who fetch the matter home by slow degrees, In many days, and from a thousand flowers, Not perfecting their work in a few hours: So taught’st thou me to wait the learning time, Not reaching first at matters too sublime; Few to maturity of knowledge grow, Who think they know, before indeed they know. Thou didst improve the thirsty love of truth, Which thou hast given me even in my youth. My labours thou mad’st easy by delight. Each day’s success did to the next invite. But O the happy method of thy grace! Which gave my own salvation the first place! And first resolved me of the utmost end, Which all my after-studies must intend: Shewing me first, why, and for what I must Lay out my studies, that they be not lost: Unhappy men! who follow base designs, And are not Christians, when they are divines 1 O that an impious divine were rare! Although the terms a contradiction are. Alas in what a bind and trembling state, Should I all day have at my studies sate, And with how little joy, or hope of gains, K I had studied still in Satan’s chains! O foolish studies! to consider how The earth is fixed, and the plants do grow! What is each creature’s specifying cause? And what are all their orders and their laws:

When thy own saving change is to begin

And thou hast yet no pardon of thy sin!

When all the while thou art a son of wrath,

Who to eternal life no title hath:

When in thy flow’ring studies thou must die,

And be undone to all eternity?

Who would be playing at a childish game,

While his own house is in a burning flame?

What if I knew whether the earth or sun

So swift and unperceived a course doth run?

Or knew the course and order of the spheres?

Or were best skilPd in numbering past years?

Knew all the houses of the starry sky? i

And things that are for common wits too high?

What if I knew all these never so well?

And knew not how to ‘scape the flames of hell?

What gain or pleasure would my knowledge be,

If I the face of God must never see?

Or what if I could fool away my time,

In smooth and well -composed idle rhyme?

Or dreaming lovers’ fancies could rehearse,

In the most lofty and adorned verse?

While my unholy soul, in fleshly thrall

Should be lamenting its own funeral?

But when my soul had fix’d on God her end, Then all my studies unto him did tend. They all were order’d in due place and season, Guided by faith, allowed by sound reason: Thou taught’st me first the only needful thing; And all my studies harp’d still on that string: Judging the greatest knowledge to be vain, Which tendeth not to the immortal gain.

There is a knowledge which increaseth sorrow,

And such whose fruit will die before to-morrow:

Yea, there ’s a knowledge which occasions sin

Desire of knowing did man’s woe begin i

All means are to be j udged of by their end:

That’s good which doth good, or doth good portend.

Its end and objects which ennoble acts:

Those that do glorious things are glorious facts.

Who calls a self-condemning sinner, wise,

That on a syllable can criticize;

Tli at can in mode and figure talk in vain;

Or learnedly his pride and sin maintain;

That’s best at the resolving of a riddle,

Or playing on a bag-pipe, or a fiddle:

But hath not learned how to live and die,

Nor where his soul must dwell eternally?

God and all wise men judge him but a fool,

Who is not wise enough to save his soul. [good,

When Heaven’s made sure, all knowledge then is

For faith and love can turn it into food:

It’s pleasant then to study any book,

When we see God the sense, where’er we look:

When as the way to Heav’n we know each place,

And see God’s beauty in each creature’s face:

And when we stick not in the form and letter,

But all our knowledge tends to make us better.

When still the more we know, the more we love,

And draw more with us to the joys above.

Fine fancies are not like clear minds; nor those

Like love, by which the soul with God doth close.

Wisdom itself will make the mind most wise.

He that ascends to God, doth highest rise.

Sure Pisgah was Parnassus, or the mount Where three Apostles did three glories count: .. Christ’s living streams are the true Helicon: None make true poets but Heav’n’s springs alone. What poor, low, toyish work make frothy wits! Like Bacchus’ scholars in their pot-wise fits. Like children’s poppets dress ‘d with lace and pin; Like handsome pictures; something wants within: A painted feast, carved with a painted knife. A living soul can feel it wanteth life. Without a holy subject, end, and spirit, True wisdom’s sacred titles none can merit.

0 my dear God! how precious is thy love! These are the drops, what are the streams above?

Immortal thanks my soul doth owe my God, For his well-order’d, needful, healing rod: The book and rod do well befit thy school; Correction is the portion of the fool: The rod itself will make the sluggard rise: The rod and book make foolish children wise.

1 felt or fear’d no evil at the first,

But my soul’s misery, which is the worst.

Whilst for a soul remedy I did look,

Thy angry storm my body overtook:

Languishing weakness shortens strength and breath;

Consumes my flesh, and threatens speedy death-And what I felt, revived the fears of more;

For now my judgment seemed at the door:

I knew not but it might be a foretaste

Of greater woe which I might feel at last:

My new awakened soul amazed was,

To think that unto judgment it must pass, And see the unseen world, and stand before

The dreadful God whom Heav’n and Earth adore!

I was unready to behold thy face,

Having no more assurance of thy grace!

Having but lately too familiar been,

With my seducing flesh, and hateful sin:

My thoughts of thee were terrible and strange!

And of so great and an untimely change 1

The threatened ruin I did thus condole;

O must my scarce-born, unprepared soul

Before my dreadful Judge so soon appear,

And the decisive, final sentence hear?

And all my reckonings so soon bring in,

And give account to God for every sin?

Before I do my soul’s condition know,

Or any sealed pardon have to shew.

What if I prove an unconverted wretch!

And justice should my soul to torments fetch?

How know I but the endless flames of hell,

May be the place where next my soul shall dwell?

Mercy would save me, but I did reject it:

Christ’s blood would cleanse me, but I did neglect it.

And though I am not hopeless, who can bear

To die uncertain under so great fear?

O that my time had all been better spent!

And that my early thoughts had all been bent

In preparation for the life to come;

That now I might have gone as to my horn e:

And taken up my dwelling with the blest!

And past to everlasting joy and rest!

O that the pleasures of my sports and toys,

Had all been turn’d to man-like holy joys!

And those delights which vanities engross’d, And spent on fleshly lust, were worse than lost: Had all been sweet rejoicings in the Lord! And in his holy service and his word! O that I could my wasted time call back! Which now my soul for greater works doth lack; What would I give now for those precious days, Which once run out in pleasures and delays? O had I lived a strict and holy life, Though under hatred and malicious strife! Though men’s and devils’ fury I had borne, And been the world’s reproach, contempt, and scorn Then welcome death would but have quench’d my And bid the envious world now do their worst, [thirst Their malice would but to my joys accrue, And well-spent time be sweet to my review. 0 happy men whose portion is above! Whose hearts to God, and to his service clove! Who made him, and his word, their chief delight, And walk’d in uprightness, as in his sight! Approved their hearts and ways to him alone! As ready to appear before his throne! Now I had rather far be one of them, Than one of worldly wealth, or princely stem.

0 now my undress’d soul is passing forth,

1 see both what the world and Christ are worth. Thus did the face of death my soul awake;

The bonds of dead stupidity it brake! Strict, holy truth I easily confess’d; I saw that godliness is not a jest. My late besotted mind is now past doubt, That folly’s careless, wisdom is devout:

1 saw more clearly than I did before,

What lies on an ungodly sinner’s score:

For what man’s powers were made, what is their use -y

To what all means and mercies do conduce:

What is man’s business while he ’s here below;

How much his creatures to their maker owe;

Whether the saint or brute be in the right?

Whether it ’s best to live by faith or sight;

What is true wit, what learning’s most sublime;

How I and all should value precious time;

I saw it’s not a thing indifferent,

Whether my soul to Heav’n or Hell be sent.

Death also further taught me how to pray, And made me cry unto thee every day; It set me on the trying of my state, Lest I should prove deceived when ’twas too late. Often and carefully I search’d my heart, Whether in Christ by faith I had a part. It shew’d me so much work to do at home, That alien, needless matters found small room. It curb’d my pride, and buried my ambition; Made me not only bear a low condition, But. choose it; and all things to estimate, As God, my soul, and Heav’n should set the rate. For now, as clearly as 1 saw the sun, f saw in lines which they may read that run, That endless things are all, when we compare, And transitory trifles nothing are: That worldlings in their sleep do talk and go, And all their lives are but a dreaming shew; Only the true believer lives awake, And doth not spend his days in mere mistake.

That all who are not saints, are worse than brutes. These, O my father! where thy rod’s first-fruits.

0 my dear God! how precious is thy love! Thus we rebound up to the joys above.

Long thus before my God I lay prostrate, Begging for healing mercy at his gate! And for some longer time, to know his truth, And not unripe to wither in my youth!

1 begg’d that hasty death he would delay, And would not snatch me unprepared away. I promised his mercies to rehearse,

If he the dreadful sentence would reverse. Could I have hoped for Hezekiah’s years, I should no more than he, have spared tears. Yet hath thy mercy granted me since then, More than thrice five, yea more than four times ten. My moan thou pity’dst, and my cries didst hear: Delaying death; not taking off my fear: The threat’ning malady thou didst abate; And into many others didst translate; Which gave me hope of some preparing space, But none that earth would prove a resting place; Appointing me to serve in gentle chains, In wholesome sickness, and in healing pains! So great as might my headstrong thoughts restrain, From running after things terrene and vain. Yet were they not so great as to make less, My service, or my sober cheerfulness: O what a happy mixture didst thou make! How meet a course did thy wise mercy take! This was the pregnant blessing, kept for store, Which multiplied into a thousand more! c 2 Which hath run parallel with all my days; For which I ewe thee everlasting praise* Too great for volumes: too high for a verse, And therefore endless life must them rehearse.

A life still near to death, did me possess, With a deep sense of time’s great preciousness. To lose an hour I thought a greater loss, Than much of sordid worldlings golden dross. 1 thought them mad that cast their time away, Being uncertain of another day. That idly prate, and play, and feast, and drink, So near eternity’s most dreadful brink! With filthy, guilty souls, unjustified; Undone for evermore if thus they died. O! thought I, where are these men’s brains and sense, Who care no n ore whither they go from hence? Pastime I thought worse than a Bedlam word: The name and thing my very soul abhorr’d.

This methodized my studies to my gain; Shamed the contending, jingling, formal vein: The greatest matters it did first impose. Necessity my book and lesson chose: I studied first to save myself and others; What edified my own soul and my brothers-Thence to the branches I in order clime; First few and great, next many, small, sublime. I here preferr’d to talk, before, to eat, Words, before things, the dish before the meat. And yet I love and value all the rest. My curious mind would fain have known the least Hut knowing life’s too short to reach to all, 1 left till last the needless things and small.

The frequent sight of death’s most awful face, Rebuked my sloth, and bid me mend my pace! Thou knew’st my dulness needed such a spur; So prone was I to trifle and demur. Who dare his soul for gain or pleasure sell, That lives as in the sight of Heav’n and Hell?

This call’d me out to work while it was day; And warn poor souls to turn without delay: Resolving speedily thy word to preach, With Ambrose, I at once did learn and teach. Still thinking I h-id little time to live, My fervent heart to win men’s souls did strive. I preach’d, as never sure to preach again, And as a dying man to dying men! O how should preachers men’s repenting crave, Who see how near the church is to the grave! And see that while we preach and hear, we die, Rapt by swift time to vast eternity! What statues, or what hypocrites i-.re they, Who between sleep and wake do preach and pray! As if they feared wakening the dead I Or were but lighting sinners to their bed! Who speak of Heav’n and Hell as on a stage! And make the pulpit but a parrot’s cage? Who teach as men that care not much who learns; And preach in jest to men that sin in earns. Surely God’s messenger, if any man, Should speak with all the seriousness he can; Who treateth in the name of the most high, About the matters of eternity! Who must prevail with sinners now or never, As those that must be saved now, if ever-When sinners endless joy or misery,

On the success of his endeavours lie!

Though God be free, he works by instruments r

And wisely fitteth them to his intents.

A proud, unhumbled preacher is unmeet

To lay proud sinners humbled at Christ’s feet:

So are the blind to tell men what God saith,

And faithless men to propagate the faith.

The dead are unfit means to raise the dead:

And enemies to give the children bread:

And utter strangers to the life to come,

Are not the best conductors to our home:

They that yet never learn ‘d to live and die,

Will scarcely teach it others feelingly:

Or if they should preach others to salvation,

Unhappy men that preach their own damnation.

How oft did I come down with shame and grief, Not that I was so homely or so brief; But that my own soul was no more awake, And felt no more the things of which I spake I That God was named with no more reverence, Nor sinners pitied with a deeper sense: That closer warnings did not pierce men’s ears, Set home by greater fervency and tears; And that my speeches were so cold and slight, About things of unutterable weight; And that I spake with no more seriousness, When Heav’n or Hell attended the success: As oue that sees by faith the joys and woes, To which the godly and the wicked goes. O my dear God! how precious is thy love! How should we prize and seek the joys above J Thy methods cross’d my ways: my young desire To academic glory did aspire: Fain I ‘d have sat in such a nurse’s lap, Where I might long have a sluggard’s nap: Or have been dandled on her reverend knees; And known by honour’d titles and degrees; And there have spent the flower of my days, In soaring in the air of human praise: Yea, and I thought it needful to thy ends, To make the prejudiced world my friends; That so my praise might go before thy grace, Preparing men the message to embrace; Also my work and office to adorn, And to avoid prophane contempt and scorn. But these were not thy thoughts; thou didst foresee That such a course would not be best for me: Thou mad’st me know that men’s contempt and scorn Is such a cross as must be daily born: Thy mercy would not have me splendid dross; A minister of pomp; but of the cross; That cross which hypocrites may preach and hear; But all that follow Christ must also bear. No honour must I have to bring to thee, But what thou first communicatest to me. In founding of thy church, thou didst declare How well all worldly honours thou could’ st spare! Both in the chief most blessed corner-stone, And in the most of those that built thereon: [then, And what great swelling names have done since Church-rents and ruins write without a pen: High titles as the first enchanting cup, Cast down the church by lifting of it up.

Titles reflect on minds. These must be low.

By humble love all must thy servants know.

Yet I deny not but a perfect mind,

May more advantage here than danger find:

Thy soil is oft manured by such dung.

I ’11 honour give to whom it doth belong

It may be safe to others; but to me

‘Twas best from such temptations to be free:

Let my preferment lie in serving all:

Whilst I sit low, I have not far to fall.

Keep me from the temptation of the devil!

For so thou dost deliver us from evil.

My youthful pride and folly now I see,

That grudged for want of titles and degree;

That blush’d with shame when this defect was known,

And an inglorious name could hardly own,

Attempting to have hid it twice or thrice,

With vile equivocations next to lies.

And to thy methods was unreconciled,

Because I was not Rabbi, doctor, stiled.

Forgive this pride; and break the serpent’s brain;

Pluck up the poisonous root, till none remain.

Give ine the wisdom; I ’11 not beg the fame:

Grant me the thing; let others take the name.

Give me the learning, and it is no harm,

If thou shalt place me in the lowest form.

Honours are shadows, which from seekers fly;

But follow after those who them deny.

I brought none with me to thy work; but there

I found more than I easily could bear;

Baxter’s poems. 3Q

Although thou would’st not give me what I would,* Thou gavest me the promised hundred-fold.f O my dear God! how precious is thy love! Thy ways, not our’s, lead to the joys above.

THE THIRD PART.

The wondrous mercy of my bounteous Lord, Which sent me forth to preach his sacred word, Prepared my way, and called me to the place, Where I must first proclaim his saving grace: All things thou suited’st fitly to my need, Giving me freedom, season, ground and seed: Poor thirsty souls, attend with greedy ear, Crowding in multitudes thy word to hear: Thy mercy opening so wide a door, Gave some first-fruits betimes, and hopes of more.

The various places where my lot did fall, Were all appointed to me by thy call. I never was to any of them brought, By the direction of my own forethought: Much less was ever any by me sought; And least of all, by price or bargain bought. 1 ne’er found cause of one place to repent; (Although my sins in all I must lament.) None were foreseen; yet after seen to reason, To be the fittest for the work and season

Matt. 20, 21. t Matt. 19, 29.

But among all, none did so much abound With fruitful mercies, as that barren ground, Where I did make my best and longest stay, And bore the heat and burden of the day; Mercies grew thicker there than summer-flowers, They over-numbered my days and hours: There was my dearest flock, and special charge. Our hearts in mutual love thou didst enlarge ‘Twas there that mercy did my labours bless With the most great and wonderful success. Yet there were sons of Belial, whose rage Reason with truth and love could not assuage: Who loved and hated, just as Satan bid them-Ruled by the reins of lust by him that rid them •. In swinish drunkenness they drown’d their wits; Most furious in their rude tumultuous fits. As boars or stags, at other times more tame, When lustful heats their blood and brains inflame, Fiercely assault such as stand in the way; None’s safe before them till their heats decay: So doth the love of re veilings and sport, Poor brutish fleshly sinners so transport, That ragingly they fly in that man’s face, Who doth by sacred truth their sin disgrace And as in armies drums and trumpets sound, The frightful cries of wounded men to drown; And even the fearful in the furious crowd Are carried on to death through streams of blooch So those ensnared youths who formerly, Out of the rout retain’d some modesty, Conjoined with the rabble, did as they, The common fury and their lusts obey:

Run with the herd t mirth and the rabble’s noise Drown reason’s plea, and God’s reclaiming voice: Death is forgot: Conscience cannot be heard, Hell and damnation now are little feared: They have their curse, and their own sentence pass E Away with Jesus! give us Barabbas! Away with preachers, who disturb our game! Talk not of judgment: let us bear the blame! Whilst grieved preachers can but wish and groan, O that your day of mercy you had known! O my dear God! how precious is thy love! Which looks on such with pity from above! Now England’s horrid civil wars began, When God a sinful nation meant to fan. When sin, grown high and bold, outfaced the light; When pride and faction pleaded divine right; When moist their love, and some their patience lost; When proud malicious men must not be cross’d; When wise men seemed fools, and fools seem’d wise, And when the worst were best in their own eyes; When piety with Lazarus was loathed; And sin with purple and fine linen clothed: And when the sacred tribe, despising souls, Through love of wealth and honour blow’d the coals! When Demas for the world deserted Paul; And their own matters were first sought by all; When they that sought their good things in this life Had banish’d love, andnU’d the church with strife I Where striving factions charity defied, And carnal councils did the church divide! When swinish Gadarenes d’d Christ refuse, And the prophane his servants did abuse When holiness the common foe was deem’d,

And nothing more intolerable seem’d.

When holy truth and preachers were despised;

And wicked means to cast them out devised.

When sin presumed to make a mock of grace,

And folly spit reproaches in Christ’s face.

When vulgar rage had found this common vent,

And impious scorn on godliness was spent.

When sin was not so much opposed as God,

Then were we ready for the bloody rod.

When those sins reign’dthat must not now be named

But by Heaven’s justice shall at last be shamed.

When old condemned vanities and crimes

Became the reverend virtues of the times,

Then God in judgment sat to plead his cause,

And judge the proud despisers of his laws.

Banished love doth fester’d hearts forsake:

Blindness, suspicions, wrath, possession take:

Each man unto the fire his faggot brought,

And each against another quarrels sought.

The whirlwind in the north did first arise,

And raise the dust which troubled English eyes.

And though Heaven’s mercy there prevented blood,

The Irish fury shed a crimson flood.

The French blood shew’d the temper of the nation,

Their faith and faithfulness keep moderation,

Their Bartholomews hot dog-days thirst had cost

Thirty or forty thousand lives at most *.

But Ireland’s Romish zeal was hotter far,

And in their preparation to a war,

1 Thuanus Davila.

Two hundred thousand they surprised and slew *, Not that their will so small a measure knew. But here God check ‘d their power, and heard the cries Of dying innocents, which pierce the skies: England affrighted by her neighbour’s harm, Threatened to be the next, takes the alarm; As citizens that see a raging flame Threaten the neighbours houses with the same, Do leave their trades, and altogether run, Trying to quench the fire where it begun; And then pull down the houses which adjoin: Some seek to save the goods, some to purloin; The well-built piles, and curious rooms must down, To buy the safety of the fearful town, A neighbour’s house is used like a foe’s, Because the fire, the hook, no diff’rence knows, Pear pulleth down the next, to save the most, And ruins more than needs lest all be lost. Smoke and confused crowds do blind men’s eyes, All are amazed, with hideous flames and cries; So England, too combustible before, Seeing so great a flame so near her door, Was frighted into such convulsion-fits, As first did break her peace, and next her wits. Dangers breed fears, and fears more dangers bring. The bees to save their honey use their sting; Roused in angry swarm they seek their foe, The next they meet must feel the smarting blow.

Caetera desunt, praesunt, adsunt.

* Earl of Orrery’s answer to a Petition.

I proposed to have recited the most notable mercies Of my life, in continuing this hymn of thanksgiving to my gracious God; but the quality of the subject, and the age’s impatience stopped me here, and I could go no further, and my painful and spiritless age is now unfit for poetry: and the matter is so large, as would have made the volume bkr.