Man

Vain man! why is thy being no more known?

Why, seeking knowledge, read’st thou not thyself? How many books in vain dost thou take down?

Thy own book standeth on the nearest shelf.

Should vital knowing spirit cloth ‘d in flesh, Mistake so coarse a garment for the man?

And live as if they did not hope or wish, For any other life than this short span.

If clothing hide thee from thy neighbour’s sight, Let it not hide thee also from thine own;

Look on thyself, thy nature is alight:

Shall knowing souls be to themselves unknown?

Now know thyself before thou art undrest,

And tho’ through flesh man cannot see thy heart,

Open thy eyes, unveil thy face at least, That man may see thou hast a better part.

How vile a thing is man, if flesh be he?

Can he look high who thinks himself so base? His brutish, sleepy thoughts and life must be,

A dreaming, doating, or despairing case.

Where was that flesh one year before thy birth?

What is it now but warmed moving clay? What will it be ere long but common earth?

To this thy pomp and pleasure is the way.

Where did God’s art that curious body form?

As in a dunghill, e’en in nature’s sink; Though skin and clothingVow do it adorn;

‘Twas bred between the dung and urine’s stink. H 2

What was it made of, but the mother’s food?

Curdled and quicken’d by the Maker’s pow’r, And there it lay in darkness, filth, and blood;

Unmeet for sight till birth’s appointed hour.

In pain and danger then it is brought forth, A speechless, helpless, and polluted thing;

Fnt’ring the world with crying at its birth,

Foretelling greater griefs which time will bring.

How long by patient mothers’ care and love Doth feeble, useless, troubling age subsist?

Should man continue such, we could not prove, That he in kind is better than a beast.

Long do these unripe fleshly bodies keep The soul from shewing its essential power;

Sense rales, while reason lieth half asleep, Vain toys and folly spend our childish hours.

By use and prepossession flesh gets strength, Resisting light, and all that ’s wise and holy;

Till reason be its servile slave at length And greatest wit become the greatest folly.

Then carnal man lives like a crafty beast, Only to pamper flesh, and please his lust;

To make the worms and Hell a costly feast,

When souls must part, and leave flesh to the dust.

If flesh be man, how many men are one,

From birth to death, whenas the rivers flow?

Daily new flesh succeeds that which is gone, And now is what he was a year ago.

That beauteous face, that pamper’d body stood But lately on my table as thy meat;

Twas mutton, beef, pork, chicken, or such food; What now thou art, is what thou didst eat.

Part of a fish, a swine, a calf, or lamb,

Is turn’d into a lady, lord, or king; This metamorphosis of beast to man,

Is surely done by some great unseen thing.

Yea all of man that ’s seen did lately grow In fields, and that was corn, or fruit, or grass,

Which now is flesh, or from the spring did flow, To shew what flesh will be, by what it was.

Vain man! know’st thou no deeper than thy skin?

Go see an open’d corpse, and that will sheV What garbage, filth, and. dung are hid within,

What thy vile body is, thou there may’st know.

Think that thy noisome, stinking excrement Is one part of that sumptuous, pleasant food;

Whose other part a while of better scent, Is turned into that proud flesh and blood.

If yet deceitful beauty cheat thy eyes,

Look on a face that ’s cursed with the pocks;

Or a white breast where stinking cancers rise, And pity fools whom fleshly pleasure mocks.

If health, wealth, pomp or power delude thy mind, Go to the greatest dying sick man’s bed,

Ask him what safety he in these doth find? Yea, go yet further, look upon the dead.

Here much unlike to what it was before,

Is that now loathsome flesh, that ghastly face;

What hath it now of all its power and store? Remember this must shortly be thy case.

How long the sight and scent can you abide, Of your dead, greatest, wisest, dearest friend?

Unless some art the frightful visage hide,

And from the smell your tender sense defend.

We can devise no better a dispose

Of dearest friends, than a deep, darksome grave; Where to lie rotting we may them repose,

The living from their sight and scent to save.

The worms without repulse there feasted be, They feed on heart and face without offence;

What pamper’d bodies are, there you may see, If you dig up that corpse a few months hence.

But though what ’s out of sight, grows out of mind, Pictures and gilded tombs are also set,

The senseless hearts of men further to blind: That what flesh is they may the more forget

Vet the next open grave casts up in sight

The skull, whose holes of eyes and mouth you see,

Where enter’d formerly the dear delight, Think then, thus shortly it will be with me.

The harmless, pretty bird with pleasure sings, Not so deform’d in life or death as we;

The cruel bowels of great lords and kings To her an honourable tomb may be.

Save that to be devoured by bad men, Turns guiltless things into a guilty wight;

And makes them sinful, and more foetid, than If they had rotted in the open light.

The labouring ant less burdensome flesh hath, Thousands in peace in one stor’d heap can dwell;

In peace by crowds they travel the same path, And being dead annoy none by their smell.

The working bees in peace together live,

Fetching their honey home from many flowers;

Dwelling in quiet order in one hive, But man destroys them and their store devours.

God who by nature gives them flying wings, And their rare mollifying power gave;

Doth give them also their defensive stings, Their house, and young, and property to save.

Men kill them, and eat up their gathered food, But make the like no king, no artist can;

Their work, yea their dead corpse is sweet and good, But sweetest things corrupt and stink in man.

How swiftly do th’ unwearied swallows flee, And mount, and sport, even to unseen height;

Their active, fiery part is quick and free, Not clogg’d as men are by a fleshly weight.

The mounted lark, hovering with nimble wings, Dwells above earth till strength and spirit fail;

And peering towards the sun, she sweetly sings, But falls down mute when earthly parts prevail.

Some say, all motion tends to ceasing rest, Of earth’s forc’d lifeless motion this is true 5

To spirits perfect action is the best,

Incessant love and pleasure is their due.

Experience sadly tells man, that his soul Is clogg’d by flesh, perverted by its bent,

So that dark heathens did its case condole. As for old sins into his body sent.

Did not God’s holy spirit quicken ours,

And cause us unseen things by faith to see?

Renew and raise our dead, corrupted powers, None could from flesh, lust, sin, Hell, saved be.

Flesh is not sin, it’s made for holy use,

In it souls here must seek and serve the Lord;

But it’s the tempting object of abuse,

While we its life and lust too much regard.

The body as a servant we must love,

But souls have sense, and sense to flesh is tried; And so drawn down from God and things above,

The soul that hath not faith is brutifled.

The interest of flesh perverts the will,

It conquers reason, and corrupts the mind,

No other enemy doth so much ill,
To self-destroying, perishing mankind.

And now oh man, is flesh all that thou art?

Worthy of all thy stir, and cost, and care, Live not as if thou hadst no better part,

Men’s souls like God, and kin to angels are.

Even brutes have souls possess’d of life and sense, Made to serve man, who ’s made his God to praise!

Whether distinct or one, when taken hence, Subject to us, whom God will higher raise.

What ’s flesh, but water mix’d with senseless earth?

Viler than dirt, when souls awhile are gone, It’s unseen spirit which causeth life and birth,

This moveth all that ’s mov’d, doth all that ’s done.

Man’s soul is made the image of his God, Substantial virtue of life, light, and love:

And though in flesh it now have its abode, Its tendency is to the world above.

It came from God, and unto God returns, Though in this flesh its life of trial be;

It daily wastes the oil, as fire that burns, Consumes its fuel, and then is set free.

As flames mount upward, souls towards Heav’n ascend,

And are still restless till they be at home; If sin depress them not, tow’rd God they tend,

Blessed and joyful, when to him they come.

As things inanimate are rul’d by force,

By sense and objects brutes determin’d be;

Both these are carried on in nature’s course, Man’s will more undetermin’d is, and free.

Brutes are not ruled by a moral law:

Nor moved by the hopes of light to come;

Nor of God’s threats and justice stand in awe, Nor after death fear any other doom.

Man’s made in his degree to know the Lord, To know his duty, and to please God’s will;

To learn and love, trust and obey his word, In hope of Heav’n, his course here to fulfil.

God is man’s supreme king, his guide, his end, His soul and life should have no other scope;

From sin and devils God will his life defend, In life and death God is our only hope.

You see not whither souls departing go, But Heaven and Hell are visible to faith;

God hath reveal’ d enough to make us know, That all shall be performed which he saith.

We no more need to fear his word should fail, Or God forsake the souls that do him please,

Or any final hurt, Christ’s flock assail,

Than earth to bare, or sun to shine should cease.

Is not a sober, righteous, holy life,

In certain hope of everlasting joys, Better than sin, despair, care, fear, and strife,

For short deceit, pleasant dreams and toys.

If yet, blind man, thou think ‘st thou art a beast, And hast no higher hopes and works to mind,

Become a tame and gentle one at least,

Not of the wild, fierce, hurtful, bloody kind.

Serpents, and toads, and wolves, are harmless things,

Yea lions, tigers, and such beasts of prey, Compar’d with many conquerors and kings,

Who do ten thousand fold more hurt than they.

If this short, fleshly pleasure be thy best,

What need of wars and blood, rage and debate?

Sweet love, and quiet peace, afford more rest, Than pow’r and wealth, with hurtful plots and hate.

What need of large dominions to prepare For dying pangs, a coffin and a grave.

Quiet, content, and kindness fitter are, Thy neighbour’s welfare and thine own to save.

But of all beasts the man-beast is the worst, To others, and himself, the crudest foe,

And, turning serpent, doth become accurs’d, A scourge to others, his own endless woe.

As holiness fits souls for endless bliss, And here hath its beginning and foretaste;

So sin the plague of un-mann’d nature is, And turns man-beast to devil at the last.

If all men made themselves, and are their own, And have no ruler but self-will and sense;

If man be nothing else but flesh and bone, Can live here still, and say, I ’11 not go hence;

If man can conquer God, and him dethrone, Kill Christ again, and shut up Paradise;

Then saints are fools, and worldly men alone, Choosing a shadow and despair, are wise.

But sure if man be only mortal flesh, A squib, a bubble, a vile earthly clod,

He never will have pow’r, whate’er he wish, To save himself, by overcoming God.

But Heav’n is quite above malignant powers, Our peace and safety ’s far above their reach;

Christ’s kingdom is not of this world, nor ours, It’s unseen blessedness which he did preach.

There holy spirits free from sin and fear, From cruel tyrants, devils, death, and Hell;

The sweet celestial melody still hear, In perfect light and love together dwell.

There’s no dark error, no perplexing doubt, No selfish envy, strife, or discontent;

All hurtful, troubling things are there shut out, No wrathful sting, no malice, no dissent.

Numberless numbers there are all but one, Of the same body, each a member is,

Each hath his due degree and place, but none A selfish, separated part of bliss.

All have one God, one head, one vital spirit;

All love God with one love; and all rejoice With one joy; all one kingdom do inherit,

All sweetly sing God’s praise, as with one voice.

True unity with difference well accords,

And makes up beauty and concert; though there

Self, numbers, many, and such parting words, Have not the same dividing sense as here.

Thus hath one soul more than one faculty,

One sun; each sort of life, three formal powers,

Some image of the Divine Trinity;

But none on Earth so excellent as ours.

And as in being, so in more respects, Unity doth with number well agree,

Many concauses have the same effects, Yea all God’s creatures one and many be.

So divers fruits are but part of one tree;

And every tree is rooted in one ground: All grounds of this one earth but parcels be,

This earth a small part of the world is found.

Souls are unseen, and so their union is,

Many united individuals, Their distinct persons make some think amiss,

That they are incoherent integrals.

God only hath a perfect unity,

Of the same world, some Blest, some cursed be, Some union stands with great diversity,

Apples and crabs may grow on the same tree.

Blest union is of good things near of kin, To things discordant union causeth pain;

An aching tooth is better out than in; To loose a rotting member is a gain.

The nearest fuel is consumed by fire:

God’s wrath is near, the wicked to destroy.

To holy souls, who God’s love most desire, He is their full and everlasting joy.

Ten thousand stars and candles give one light, Concordant sounds make one sweet melody:

Two ears one hearing cause; two eyes one sight; But light and darkness have no unity.

Here wicked men are every where in wars: Men against men, as tigers fiercely rave:

Our minds, and wills, and passions, have their jars: Our souls and bodies mortal discords have.

Though life be short, and death is at the door, Impatient foes think posting time too slow,

They grudge to let us live a few days more; Revenge and malice long to give the blow.

ButHeav’n hath no such work: there’s no such men, Nothing is there the blessed to annoy,

With Christ and angels holy souls shall then

Praise God in perfect life, light, love, and joy!

Amen.
Decemb. 17, 1682.