The Exit

My soul go boldly forth,
Forsake this sinful earth,
What hath it been to thee

But pain and sorrow,
And thinkest thou it will be

Better to-morrow?

Love not this darksome womb,
Nor yet a gilded tomb,
Though on it written be

Mortal men’s story,
Look up by faith, and see

Sure, joyful glory.

Why art thou for delay?
Thou cam’st not here to stay:
What tak’st thou for thy part,

But heav’nly pleasure?
Where then should be thy heart,

But where ’s thy treasure?

Thy God, thy head ’s above;
There is the world of love;
Mansions there purchas’d are,

By Christ’s own merit,
For these he doth prepare

Thee by his spirit.

Look up towards Heav’n, and see
How vast those regions be,
Where blessed spirits dwell,
How pure and lightful I

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But earth is near to Hell,
How dark and frightful!

Here life doth strive with death,
To lengthen mortals breath;
Till one short race be run,

Which would be ended,
When it is but begun,

If not defended.

Here life is but a spark,
Scarce shining in the dark;
Life is the element there,

Which souls reside in;
Much like as air is here,

Which we abide in.

Hither thou cam’st from thence:

The divine influence

In flesh my soul did place,

Among the living:
To be of human race,

Was his free giving.

There I shall know God more.
There is the blessed choir;
No wickedness comes there,

All there is holy:
There is no grief or fear,

No sin or folly.

Jerusalem above,
Glorious in light and love,
Is mother of us all,
Who shall enjoy them,
The wicked Hell-ward fall;
Sin will destroy them.

O blessed company,
Where all in harmony,
Jehovah’s praises sing,

Still without ceasing:
And all obey their King,

With perfect pleasing*

God there is the saint’s rest,
God is their constant feast;
He doth them feed and bless,

With love and favour,
Of which they still possess,

The pleasant savour.

God is essential love,
And all the saints above,
Are like unto him made,

Each in his measure:
Love is their life and trade,

Their constant pleasure.

Love flames in every breast,
The greatest and the least;
Strangers to this sweet life,

There are not any.
Love leaves no place for strife;

Makes one of many.

Each is to other dear,
No malice enters there;
No siding difference;
No hurt, no evil;

Because no ignorance,
No sin, no devil.

What joy must there needs be,
Where all God’s glory see;
Feeling God’s vital love,

Which still is burning:
And flaming God- ward move,

Full love returning.

Self makes contention here,
Love makes all common there,
There’s no propriety,

Mine is my brothers.
Perfect community

Makes one’s another’s.

Go out then, ling’ring soul,
From this vile serpent’s hole;
Where bred as in a sink,

They hiss and sting us.
Will not Christ, dost thou think,

To better bring us?

Think not that Heav’n wants store,
Think not that Hell hath more,
If all on Earth were lost:

Earth ’s scarce one tittle
To the vast Heavens: at most,

Exceeding little.

All those blest myriads be,
Lovers of Christ and thee;
Angels thy presence wish,
Christ will receive thee:

Then let not brutish flesh,
Fright and deceive thee.

Gladly my soul go forth;
Is Heaven of no more worth,
Than this curst desert is,

This world of trouble?
Prefer eternal bliss,

Before this bubble.

Wish not still for delay.
Why wouldst thou longer stay
From Christ, from hope so far,

In self-denial:
And live in longer war,

A life of trial?

Souls live when flesh lies dead:

Thy sin is pardoned,

When Christ doth death disarm,

Why art thou fearful?
And souls that fear no harm,

Should pass forth cheerful.

Cherish not causeless doubt,
That God will shut thee out:
What if he thee assur’d

From Heav’n by letter?
His Son, his Spirit, and Word,

Have done it better.

Hath mercy made life sweet?
And is it kind and meet,
Thus to draw back from God,
Who doth protect thee?

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Look then for his sharp rod,
Next to correct thee.

What if foes should make haste?
Thou wilt the sooner taste
What all blest souls enjoy,

With Christ for ever;
Where those that thee annoy,

Shall hurt thee never.

Fear not the world of light,
Though out of mortal’s sight,
As if it doubtful were,

For want of seeing:
Gross bodies vilest are,

And the least being.

Vain, sinful world, farewell
I go where angels dwell;
Where life, light, love, and joy,

Are the saint’s glory:
God’s praises there employ

The consistory.

Christ who knows all his sheep,
Will all in safety keep;
He will not lose his blood,

Nor intercession:
Nor we the purchased good

Of his dear passion.

I know my God is just,

To him I wholly trust;

All that I have, and am,

All that I hope for:

All’s sure and seen to him,
Which I here grope for.

Lord Jesus, take my spirit:
I trust thy love and merit:
Take home this wand’ring sheep,

For thou hast sought it:
This soul in safety keep,

For thou hast bought it. Amen.
December % 1682.