Madness

Lord! is not man, tho’ lodg’d in flesh and blood,

A noble vital, intellectual spirit? Thou mad’st him in thine image, wise and good,

Earth’s paradise, Heaven’s suburbs to inherit.

How comes a reasonable human soul,

Transform ‘d by such a monstrous ugly change

Into a brutish, raging, wicked fool,

To God, himself, and wisdom, blind and strange:

Thou gav’st him sight, who hath put out his eyes? Thou gav’st him knowledge, who hath made him mad?

Ev’n Satan, promising to make him wise,

Thou mad’st him holy, sin hath made him bad.

Did not endeavours, blessed by thy grace, Restore some holy wisdom in thine own?

The souls which sin and Satan did deface, Would not from brutes and devils well be known.

It ’s strange in man, how these two twisted be, To be a brute, and a malignant devil!

Folly and wickedness too well agree, A fool to goodness is wise to do evil.

Children do quickly learn to serve the flesh, Their pride, their appetite, and their self-will,

Eager for every thing that these can wish, But little knowing what is good or ill.

Their sense and fancy do so strongly rage,

That teachers speak in vain, flesh will not hear,

Brutishness gets advantage by their age, Till grace comes in, and opens heart and ear.

Depraved nature, made by custom worse, Makes reason now a fetter’d slave to sense;

Increased sin becomes a double curse, Fights against God, and is its own defence.

As flesh grows up, so sense and fancy grow, Lust and vain pleasure now do tyrannize;

What crosseth these they hate, and would not know, And raging flesh abhorreth to be wise.

Yet wise in wickedness, they needs will seem, They can confute their teachers with a breath;

All that reproves them they as error deem, And become advocates for sin and death.

And now the same who infant -Christians were, And did renounce the flesh, the world, and devil;

Flesh, world, and devils* serious servants are, And Christ blaspheme as patron of their evil.

Now God and conscience seem their greatest foes, God as above them doth controul their lust;

He that pleads conscience for an enemy goes, And all that s done against him goes for just.

God’s call’d to sinners’ bar, and there condemned, As heading rebels that do him obey:

Before those fools his laws are all contemn’d, Christ must be taught to think and say as they.

And being once engag’d in Satan’s war: His daring soldiers they are quickly made;

But little wit and labour needful are, To learn the lying, hating, hurting trade.

Now valiant Bedlam, drunken, devilish wit, Conquers resistance, triumphs over all:

Fights against all that help not, or submit, To bring church, kingdoms, souls, to Satan’s thrall.

O what a busy trade mad worldlings drive!

They talk, they ride, they run, contend, and tight; With craft they plot, with fraud and force they strive,

For fleshly lust and poisonous delight.

As the fleet swallows glide to catch a fly,

And toilsome ants do gather sticks and straw;

At dearer rates men purchase vanity,

For Satan, lust, and madness, make their law.

May they but a sick mortal lust fulfil,

Get money, houses, land, and large revenues,

Look big, and make all stoop to their proud will; Feast, drink, and play, and keep a great retinue.

This is the dreaming happiness of fools,

Life spent for this, and Heav’n for this is lost:

And this is all for which they sell their souls, A fool’s-cap purchas’d at the dearest cost.

All this is done in the known way to death, They have not the least hope but die they must:

They are not sure to fetch another breath,

They know their pamper’d flesh will soon be dust.

Their pomp and wealth for which they God forsake, Yea, tho’ their streets with silver they could pave;

All the vexations, strife, and stir they make, They know is but in passing to the grave.

Were they but following another’s course,

Such going towards a grave would be a shame;

But when ’tis towards their own, it is far worse, A madness which doth want a proper name.

Sheep know not when death ’s near, yet live in peace: Birds feed and sing in peace, together got;

Man always knows his life will shortly cease, Yet madly lives as if he knew it not.

But when death comes they are surpris’d with fear, As if till then they knew not they must die;

Departing wealth and life, their hearts then tear, O how the case is chang’d when death seems nigh!

How sad doth Dives look! how deep he groans ‘His mammon-god now will not hear his cries;

Money and friends now answer not his moans, For all his wealth, he trembles, faints, and dies.

The greatest lord and prince must now submit, Crowns, titles, money, will not ease his pain;

Forced repentance seems to have some wit,

Preachers may speak now without proud disdain.

He calls for mercy, he forgiveth all;

Instead of fire and sword he speaks of peace; His wit revives as flesh and strength do fall,

Not from a holy change but for his ease.

Now he talks how he ‘d live; when life ’s near gone, He seemeth wise, and promiseth to mend:

He thinks what time is for, when time is done, Begins to think of living at his end.

Might he be sav’d now for a frighten’d wish, When guilt and terror cause his heart to faint,

When worldly pleasures all forsake his flesh, He ‘d have the end and portion of a saint.

Now takes an inventory of his wealth,- — This corpse was once the body of a man

It liv’d in pleasure, honour, ease, and health, Goes naked hence, as naked life began.

That frightful earthly face was wont to smile, And with proud scorn on hated persons frown,

It comely seem’d, which now is black and vile, That it’s the same, can hardly now be known.

Those closed eyes, the casements were of lust, There enter’d worldly vanity and sin,

That mouth, those lips, that now must rot to dust, Have taken many a pleasant morsel in.

That throat, his fellow-creatures did devour, Made sumptuous feasts his body to maintain,

With pleasant liquors, many a merry hour, He did exhilarate both heart and brain.

Those ears have heard jests, plays, and melody, Men’s nattering praise, and many a merry song,

The welcome news of their calamity,

Whom wrath and malice did delight to wrong.

That mouth hath utter ‘d many a merry jest,

Vain worldly talk, strife, news, and feigned story,

Oaths, lies, and wanton speeches, were its feast, Threats, and proud boasts, and scorning, were its glory.

That nose delighted was with pleasant smell, That black and sallow skin was smooth and white;

On eyes and countenance did grandeur dwell, The just did fly; the poor crouch’d at his sight.

Those limbs could move; those hands had nimble joints,

The corpse which now lies dead, did ride and run, All did perform what lust and pride appoints,

Many successful actions he hath done.

Many deep-plodding thoughts that brain hath hatch ‘d, How to grow rich, and great, and have his will,

For means and seasons, he hath wisely watch ‘d, All his desires and pleasures to fulfil.

And now what ’s left? to keep him from men’s sight, A shroud and coffin ’s all that he must have,

And these unknown, afford him no delight, But serve their turn, who bring him to a grave.

But where’s his money, honours, lands, and treasures?

Left to his heirs, least they should wiser be, That the strong snare of fleshly worldly pleasures,

May tempt them all to live and die as he.

But where is Dives soul? Christ saith, in Hell: But his five brethren will not this believe:

Christ will not lie; and who can better tell? But Satan thus successors doth deceive.

What hath he taken hence of all his gains?

God’s wrath: the guilt and conscience of his sin: But not one drop to ease tormenting pains,

Will all his honours, lands, and riches win.

A preacher tells his brethren wThat Christ saith: He’s charg’d of slandering so great a man:

A gaol, and scorn is the success he hath: Convince proud, wilful sinners no one can.

And is not this a doleful Bedlam-case,

When all a rich man’s pleasure with him dies?

His brethren madly follow the same chase; At the same time wrhile he in torment lies.

He ’s paying for his long contempt of grace;

They build his tomb, and celebrate his fame; He ‘d have them warn’d, and not come to that place;

They praise his doings, and keep up his name.

Could one at once but see them and their brother;

Him in his torment; them in their delight; How unlike are their thoughts to one another!

One groans for that, for which the others fight.

Faith sees all this: but flesh and sense is blind: These brutes believe no more than what they see:

One from the dead sent could not change their mind; But it by sense too late will changed be.

God gives men life; they ’11 not consider why: Time ’s short: fools know not what they have to do,

Nor think why they were born, till they must die, Nor whither their departing souls must go.

They live, as if they thought that Heaven and Hell Were th’ only places of consideration,

And to be drunk, or mad, were to be well: And fool away this life of preparation.