Whose sprituall tortures, soules asunder draw,
Worse than the worme that inwardly doth gnaw.

If these againe were to beginne their race,
And by their carriage, freedome could procure,
What course so strange that they would not embrace?
No charming pleasure could them then allure;
Even sicknesse, torment, poverty, disgrace,
They, whil'st alive, would willingly endure;
Yea, though their life a thousand yeares should last,
So that their griefe might end when it were past.

And if they would doe this to scape from paine,
Though otherwise the Lord should them neglect,
What would they doe that happinesse to gaine,
Which is design'd for them that are elect?
That they for ever might in Heaven remaine,
As those whom God most dearely doth affect;
ob's suffrings all for this would small appeare,
Though multipli'd so long as they were here.

You who as yet doe draw this common ayre,
And have the meanes salvation to acquire,
Now whil'st the season doth continue faire,
Provide against the storme of swelling ire;
To compasse this extend industrious care,
Before the hasting tearme of grace expire :
That treasure which we should so much esteeme,
All now may have, none can when lost redeeme.

Loose not your thoughts in fancie's fields to stray,
Lest charming pleasures doe the judgement blinde,
Which reason's fort to vanity betray,
And (weakening vertue) molifie the minde;
Then onely leave (when vanishing away)
Remorse, or shame, or wearinesse behinde :
As drunke, or mad, or dreaming at the best,
Fooles thus may rave, but never soundly rest.

Remember that the bounds where we remaine,
Was given to man when as from God he fell,
Not for delight, but in a high disdaine,
Were damn'd to dye, that he a wretch might dwell;
Here first to plague him with continuall paine,
When barr'd from Eden, this was Adam's Hell,
As Hell at last shall be to all his race,
Who proudly sinne, and doe not seek for grace.
And let none thinke (reducing Heaven's decree)
That they can make this mansion of annoyes,
(As if a Paradise) from trouble free,
A ground for rest, a lodging fit for joyes;
Though numbers (smooth'd with showes) deluded be,
In place of reall good, affecting toyes:
This is the lists where all a proofe must give,
Who,suffring here, more blest when hence shall live.
Loe, thousands oft where dangers are most rife,
With honour, fortune, or what else held deare,
To all death's engines dare expose their life,
Whil'st losse and travell, pleasure doe appeare,
And all the end expected by this strife,
Is but to gaine some towne, or fortresse neare,
Which in their fury, with confusion foil'd,
Is raz'd, ere gayn'd, and soone thereafter spoil'd.
And should not we our whole endeavours bend,
To force that city which triumphs above?
Which doth invite, and not it selfe defend,
With sacred armes, if we couragious prove;
No furniture is needfull for this end,
But patience, hope, faith, charity, and love:

The joyes of Heaven, more great then can be
To touch my lippes, that stain'd so oft have been,
Lord, from thine altar, let a coale be brought;
Make me cast off what ever is uncleane,
That sacred grounds with reverence may be sought;
Thy inner temple let thy servant see,
Where of things holy, the most holy be.

What glorious change doth dazle thus mine eye
In place of th' earth where miseries are rife,
The torturing racke that did man's patience try,
With wasting travels, and dividing strife,
Who (by these labours) did but dearely buy
Terrestriall things fit for a temporall life:
I see an earth that greater pleasure yeelds,
Then Gentiles dream'd in their Elysian fields.

Time (as for sport) now quickly deckes and spoiles
This passive ground, which alwaies worke requires,
To punish man (as sentenc'd first) with toiles,
The meanes by which his maint'nance he acquires,
Whil'st sometime barren, sometime fertile soiles,
Give joy, or griefe, with agues of desires:
Still fighting with the same, till yeeld he must,
A fettred captive humbled in the dust.

We daily see the Earth (doe what we can)
How it the cares of wretched worldlings scornes,
(Bloud-colour'd furrowes frowning upon man)
Her vapours poison, and she prickes with thornes;
But now farre from that state which first began,
it (which the Lord as his delight adornes)
Is (alwaies faire) much chang'd from what before,
A virgin now, not violable more.

But then what soule will daigne to looke so low,
As to take pleasure in so meane a sight,
When they of Heaven the heavenly beauties know,
And shine aloft like starres, yea farre more bright,
When they that kingdome then securely owe,
By promise first, last by possession's right:
From which no doubt so great contentment springs,
That they esteeme not of inferior things.

The stately building, admirably round,
Above the compasse of encroaching houres,
With strength and beauty that doth still abound,
To lodge the happie host of heavenly powers,
The world's great maker curiously did found
On fields of pearle with diamantine towers!
Which (though most pretious) do no wonder breed,
The forme so farre the matter doth exceed.

The sight-confining, crystall-covered skies,
That mirrour cleere through which in every part
The Heaven (as jealous) lookes with many eyes,
To marke men's actions, and to weigh each heart,
That spheare of light whose stately course none tries,
To imitate, or æmulate by art,

That which to us so gorgeous is in show,
The building's botome is, the part most low.

The bounds of Heaven, the forme or matter here,
Where God enthron'd with majestie doth sit,
Who durst but aime by mortall types to cleere,
(As fondly trusting to deluded wit)

Might make his madnesse nothing else appeare,
And should a crime more monstrous thus commit,
Then thence one (stealing fire) was fain'd to do,
And should for punishment farre passe him too.

Who can (though dayly seene) describe the sky,
By which (poore curtaine) better is enclos'd,
(With mustr'd beauties courting still the eye)
Though eminent to every age expos'd? [try,
Of Sunne, Moone, starres, who doth the substance
Or how their bodies are for light compos'd?
The very soules by which we reason thus,
Are for their essence strangers unto vs.
Then of Heaven's mysteries if we should judge,
The work would prove (our maker's wrath to tempt)
Ridiculous folly, arrogancy huge,

Presumption still encount'ring with contempt;
And if that we (base wormes whom clay doth lodge)
By scaling clouds, Heaven's stately towers attempt;
To paint their glory, in the least degree,
The Sunne it selfe would scarce a shadow be.

The Lord's chiefe house is built of living stone,
But certainely celestiall roomes excell,
Which Christ himselfe prepares for every one,
Where they at last eternally may dwell;
With majestie there stands his stately throne;
The bounds about doe all with glory swell:
Let this content, no words such worth can eaven,
He who made all the world, made this his Heaven.

What sacred vision calls us from the skie,
A mystery with reverence to attend ?
From starry towers the silver streamers flie,
Whilst th'azure rounds their ports with pompe extend:
A glorious towne with glistring walls I spie!
Which falls not downe, but softly doth descend,

And straight sweet sounds melodiouslie tell, This is God's tent, he comes with men to dwell.

The gorgeous citty (garnish'd like a bride)
Where Christ for spouse expected is to passe,
With walles of jasper compass'd on each side,
Hath streets all pav'd with gold, more bright then
glasse;

Twelve pretious stones for walkes her waies divide,
Where still there is engrav'd in lasting brasse,
Of happie twelve the celebrated names;
"An honour due defraying former shames."
Life's water pure forth from the throne doth flow,
With mutuall joy where saints and angels meete;
On every side of it life's tree doth grow,
Where streames of nectar beautifie the streete,
With colours like the sacramentail bow,
To looke on pleasant, and in tasting sweete;
Then from all feare her citizens to free,
We still his people, he our God will be.

Of that brave city where the saints doe dwell,
Which ravish'd Iohn by earthly types designes,
Who would the beauty and perfection tell,
(As he then saw) had need of angel's lines;
But this is certaine, that it must excell,
Where glory still in the meridian shines;
No shadow there can ever cloud the light,
Where every thing is of itselfe still bright.
Each stone amidst the street doth shine afarre,
And like to lightning, light about bestows;
As in the firmament a radient starre,
Each just man's beauty now for brightnesse grows;
Then he whose presence darknesse quite must barre,
The life of light, the fountaine whence it flowes;
Is (that great day which at a height still stayes)
The Sunne of glory, and the just his rayes.

There none shall need like mortals with complaints
(World's common care)for want of roome to grudge,
But he in granting grace who never faints,
Doth them reward of whom he had beene judge;
And (clear'd from sinne) all justly then call'd saints,
Doth daigne himselfe (as harbenger) to lodge,
Since gone before (where we shall him embrace)
Of purpose to prepare the promis'd place.
The swelling earth where hils such heights do reare,
To be our jayle, which Heaven a space decrees,
Man, cattell, corne, and what these need doth beare,
Whose whole none yet (though still in travell) sees;
It compass'd is by a farre distant spheare,
And that by others, growing by degrees;
Of which in bounds the highest must abound,
A large circumference, an endlesse round.
Heaven's store of roomes by Christ is clearly shown,
Yet would not this extended be so farre,
To meke each place peculiarly one's owne,
Where one may be, and thence may others barre;
This smels too much of what we here have known,
Which most of minds the harmony doth marre;
These words of mine, and thine, chiefe grounds of
The fountains are of all the toils of life. [strife,

Soules glorifi'd may where they please repaire,
Then made secure, that nought can them annoy,
For no restraint their freedome doth impaire,
Who as his host the Lord of hosts convoy;
As fishes in the seas, fowls in the ayre,
None claimes a share, but all do all enjoy :

With partiall eyes not making choice of parts, Save onely God, no object draws their hearts.

sires,

No doubt these sprituall parts must still remaine,
Not rais'd, but rectifi'd, in value more,
Else faith (too credulous) doth beleeve in vaine,
That all shall rise in substance as before;
If these dissolve, and that we get againe,
New gifts for them from the Eternall's store;
Then should the meanes by which at last we move,
(No resurrection) a creation prove.

These faculties, that of themselves were good,
In souls from Heaven as their chiefe wealth in-
fus'd,

Had man (as first created) constant stood,
Were excellent when innocently us'd;
But since that sinne did sway vaine mortal's brood,
To serve their lusts, these treasures are abus'd;
Yet when renu'd, and to perfection brought,
By them then earst farre more may now be wrought.

Man's father first, ere blinded by his fall,
(Free from informers) whil'st he liv'd alone,
Knew Evah clearly, whom he straight did call
Flesh of my flesh, and of my bone the bone;
And Peter knew (though to fraile dust still thrall)
Two that were buried many ages gone;
Let tabernacles, Lord, here builded be
For Moses, for Elias, and for thee.

This pret ous jewell (by wit's toils refin'd)
Which joynes with judgement to determine strife,
The end of travell, treasure of the minde,
The spoils of Paradise, the price of life,
Whose light to get (as ignorant) when blinde,
Our simple father, and his curious wife
Did suffer death, yet grudg'd not at their crosse,
As if that knowledge recompenc'd their losse.

Rage first doth burne, last, rheumes do drowne the

brains,

Youth knowledge scornes, it doting age doth kill:
None can engrosse, nor yet exhaust this store,
But all have by degrees, some lesse, some more.
Loe, that which made so slow a progresse here,
By childhood, folly, or by errour staid,
Now (wholly perfect) doth at first appeare,
Not in fraile lodgings by grosse organs sway'd ;
The happie souls from all corruption cleare,
Do shine like starres, with righteousnesse array'd;
And bodies glorifi'd do enter in,
Not bow'd by sicknesse, nor abus'd by sinne.

If on the face one now may reade the minde,
In characters, which griefe or joy imparts,
The same reflected (then) we clearly finde,
By sympathie the secrets of all hearts;
If Moses' face upon the mountaine shin'd,
Much more when glorifi'd these other parts,
Then there must prove, where nothing can be foule,
All eye the body, and the eye all soule.

Then pleasure's height is onely in the Lord,
Who ill extirpates, what is good extends;
Yet how could this but just delight afford?
(Though publick zeale presse downe all private ends)
To see at last with like contentment stor'd,
Them whom we lov'd, wife, children, servants,
friends:

Communicated joyes (as sowen) do grow,
Whil'st increase comes by that which we bestow.

All must rejoyce to see the godly's good,
Though for the wicked no man shall be griev'd ;
At least this is (if rightly understood)
A pleasant errour, and may be beleev'd;
When seeing them with whom long toss'd we stood,
Till by the Lord (who heard our cryes) reliev'd,
Shall we not joyne in him with mutuall joy,
Whil'st it then comforts, which did earst annoy?
A senselesse pourtrait curious to acquire,
We seek the shadow of a vanish'd show,

If thought like them (rapt with celestiall fire)
Whose deeds, or words, were singular below;
Yea, even of ethnicks, if they did aspire,
By morall vertues fame's applause to owe:
And every monument do much esteeme,
Which did from death such memories redeeme.

Who would not purchase, though with charge and strife,

A lively peece that would resemble right,
God's earth-begotten sonne, his selfe-borne wife,
When both were happie, and at beautie's height?
Farre more of his owne Sonne, the Lord of life,
Man deifi'd, God mortall made, whose sight
The fathers wish'd, ere forc'd from hence to flie,
And which made Simeon straight grow glad to dye.
Who then can thinke with what exceeding joy
We shall our Saviour's selfe, our Soveraigne see,
Who suffered death, that he might death destroy,
And us poore captives from that tyrant free?
Whil'st all these saints in person him convoy,
Whose pictures wish'd, would now so pretious be:

O! what a holy host together throngs,
To magnifie the Lord with heavenly songs?
We at that time not onely shall behold,
Milde Moses there, just Samuel, and the best
That for the cause of God have beene so bold,
Whil'st sacred fury breath'd out of their breast,
But even with them that are so much extold,
We shall be partners of eternall rest,

And spying with what zeale they act their parts,
The greater ardour may enflame our hearts.

As earst on th' Earth he did divinely use,
That man thrice sacred, prophet, poet, king,
Whil'st heavenly furie doth high thoughts infuse,
Then to his harp an holy hymne may sing,
Thrice happie thou that thus imploy dst thy Muse,
Whose pen, it seemes, was from an angel's wing,
Since thy harmonious sounds still mount, and move
With melodie to charme the spheares above.
This is the way to have eternall lines,
That all the hosts of Heaven may them approve,
Whose loftie flight no fatall date confines,
Whil'st fraughted onely with a sprituall love,
This is a subjeet which all else declines,
And in request for quiristers above,
Which must these authors all immortall make,
That for God's glory thus a course do take.

The prophets and the patriarchs rejoyce,
To see the things fulfill'd which they fore-told,
And all that were the Lord's peculiar choice,
To whom he did his mysteries unfold,
There many millions multiply a voice,
And above measure do a measure hold;
These whom the Lambe of God as his doth seale,
Are kindled all with love, and burne with zeale.

The noble martyrs, (champions of the faith)
Who straight, when challeng'd, scorn'd both force

and art,

(Encount'ring bravely with a tyrant's wrath)
Whose chearfull count'nance smilingly did smart;
Then as inviting, not avoyding death,
(Their drosse first burn'd) well purifi'd did part;
Not out of haste to have their torments done,
But that in Heaven they so might settle soone.

They now do reape the fruits of former toils,
All crown'd with starres, like Phoebus in the face,
In white, perchance adorn'd with princes' spoyls,
Whom they (whil'st raging) did orecome in peace;
Of all their bodies drawn from sundry soils,
The wounds for pompe do give the greatest grace,
Which shine, as rubies set in crystall rings,
And make them to be like the king of kings.
Triumphing victors entring Heaven with state,
golden trumpet may their praise proclaime,
And some great angell all their deeds dilate,
Which glory doth reward, not envi'd fame;
Then when enstall'd, where eminent in seat,
The voice of thousands celebrates their name:
With eager eares attending their discourse,
Though knowing all, from them to heare their course.

If there admitted, as whil'st here we live,
With mutuall pleasure to exchange our mindes,
O what contentment would that conference give,
For sweet variety of sundrie kindes!

Nor need we feare that some would fraud contrive:
Base hate, nor flattery, there no object findes.

And if they would (as none can do in ought)
The breast transparent would bewray each thought.

There one from Adam, Eden's state might heare,
How large it was, and in what region plac't,
What pleasures did most singular appeare,
What hearbs, what fruits, or flowers the garden
grac'd ;

How Evah first was knowne, why straight held deare,
And if he there that new-borne bride imbrac'd:
What these two trees were like in forme, or hew,
Where life, and knowledge, vegetable grew.

Who would not gladly know (before he err'd)
His first designes, what thoughts he entertain'd,
Each circumstance how he with God conferr'd,
How will (by him not rein'd) above him raign'd,
If there to stay, or where to be preferr'd,
Then in what forme the serpent Satan fain'd;
What taste the apples had, what change, both finde,
By sight, and knowledge, when grown weake and
blinde.

He tels how short a time their blisse did last,
And seem'd thereafter but a vanish'd dreame;
How angels them from Paradise did cast,
Where first their souls were seiz'd by feare and
shame;

Then through what lands these banish'd pilgrims past,

And (fore'd to labour) what rude tools they frame : What race they had, what progresse mankinde made, And all their crosses till that both were dead.

When Adam ends, then Noah calls to minde
The history of all before the Flood,
And how the arke could hold of every kinde,
One of each sexe, to propagate their brood,
How it was well contriv'd, for wave and winde,
To void their excrements, and keep their food:
And whil'st the seas did wash the earth from sinne,
How that small remnant spent their time within.

He can report the world's new growth againe,
Which at the first no living penne renownes:
How every person did a house attaine,
The house a village, villages grew townes;
Then provinces all peopled did remaine,
And straight ambition mounted up to crownes.;
That in his time (though all was once his owne)
The floud was quite forgot, and he not knowne.

We there may learne how that the Lord of old,
By dreames and visions did declare his will;
How all who crav'd, had straight his counsell told,
By urim, thummim, and by ephod still;
And well they might to prosecute be bold,
What prophets first secur'd by sacred skill,
Whom then (though great) the world with scorne

did view,

For till first dead, men never get their due.

This by Helias there may be resolv'd,
How he and Enoch were from hence estrang'd;
If wing'd with flames, or in some cloud involv'd,
(No usuall guests) along'st, the ayre they rang'd;
If they their bodies kept, or were dissolv'd,
Or in what forme to scape, corruption chang'd:
Christ's ushers thus, their passage serves to prove,
How we with glory once may mount above.