Elizabeth Major (fl. 1650s)

For a biographical summary of the life and writings of Elizabeth Major, click here.

Honey on the Rod:

Or a comfortable

CONTEMPLATION

For one in

AFFLICTION;

With Sundry

POEMS

On several

SUBJECTS.

By the unworthiest of the servants of the Lord Jesus Christ, Elizabeth Major.

Rom. 8. 18. For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time, are not worthy to be

compared to the glory which shall be revealed in us.

London, Printed by Tho: Maxey, in Thames-street, near Baynards Castle, 1656.

October 8, 1655.

Imprimatur,

Joseph Caryl.

Courteous Reader,

It hath been said and found more then once, and in this ensuing Treatise (compiled by an afflicted Gentlewoman) it is found once more, That the School of the Crosse, is the School of light; or, that the Lord gives instruction with correction. It is a strong Argument, that they have received Light or Instruction who readily give it.

Reader, Unity and peruse this bundle of Meditations knit together by a heart and hand long exercised under a heavy crosse, and thou wilt soon perceive, That as Christ hath dropt honey into her soul from the Rod, so her pen drops honey into thy soul; take but a little of it (the All is not much) and taste it, as Jonathan did the honey upon the end of the rod that was in his hand (I Sam. 14) and be thy eyes, as his, may possibly be inlightned if thou art in darkness, and thy heart comforted if thou art in sadnesse.

JOSEPH CARYL

SIN and MERCY

Briefly Discovered:

Or

The vail taken a little

from before both.

Together with the AUTHORS

Accusation, Confession, and Belief.

With Deaths Progress.

And a particular Application of the

Book of Jonas.

————————————————

By the unworthiest of the servants of the

Lord Jesus Christ, Elizabeth Major

————————————————

Rom. 13.12,13,14. The night is past, and the day is

at hand, let us therefore cast away the works of

darkness, and let us put on the armor of light, so

that we walk honestly as in the day, not in gluttony

and drunkenness, neither in chambering and wan-

tonness, nor in strife and envying; but put ye on

the Lord Jesus Christ and take no thought for the

flesh, to fulfil the lusts of it.

————————————————

London, Printed by Tho: Maxcy. 1656.

————————————————

Place this before the Poems.

Courteous Readers,

You that will not judge, nor condemn before you read and consider, nor value so much from whence it came, as what it is that is come to your view; to you I say, that Nature and Grace hath made tender in judging, if you please so far to descend, as to cast an eye upon these poor Lines presented to you: You may behold in it a little (but a full) Hive. I intreat thee not to be offended, if thou finde in it more wax then honey, and more dross then either: the honey (the Divine part) I commend to thee, and the wax (the moral part) being clarified from the dross (that is, the faults and failings through weakness) is usefull in its place; nay, the faults and failings are not to be past over without making some use of them, for they may make thee double thy watch upon all occasions, knowing that if but a crevise of our hearts lie open, sin stands ready to enter, and so to soil our best actions (probatum est.) Therefore I confess if there be any thing in these poor worthless Lines, worthy thy commendation, know, it is the Lord my teachers (but what is faulty is mine) who is pleased to give me my experiences this drop from his Ocean, & I humbly desire to return it into the Ocean of his praises. And now to shew in some measure his dealings with me, that others might be incouraged to trust him in all conditions; Know that he was pleased in the prime of my years to taken me, as it were, from a Palace to a Prison, from liberty to bondage, where I have served some Apprentiships, so much I exceeded others in a dead and dull blockishness: O how uncapable of learning the trade driven in Heaven am I! not a secret it can understand without a knock, though I confess done with much tenderness; for he was pleased to own me as one of the poor Scholars in the School, of the lowest Form, and according to my weakness he dealt with me: He was likewise pleased for some years to exercise me with much trouble, so that I seldom saw the day, before I saw or heard of some cause of sorrow nearly related to me, from the sound of which I would fain have fled: O how exceedingly I strove, for gladly would I have been released, by means used, without being beholding to a God, such actings, I confess, as became not one who would be owned as a servant to such a Master; for while I had either means or friends to procure advice, the great Physician was neglected; for the reins being in some measure laid in my neck, I did like the Prodigal, run my self out of all before I looked back: But alas, when I had seen and considered what a gulf of misery I had plunged my self in, and what power it was that had blasted me in all that I had used, and against which I had acted; then, O then I feared, lest that power being backed by Justice should have consumed me; and it is the desire of my soul, ever to love and admire it because it did not.

Likewise, I considered his wisdom to be so great, in opposing me in the use of means, that I would not for a thousand Worlds but have been so opposed: and for his free mercy I am silenced into a holy admiration, that never such a Majesty to offend, should please to afflict, when he might with so much justice have consumed me: Therefore these three attributes, his Power, Wisdom and Mercy, did for some time take up the thoughts of my heart; and sure God was pleased in mercy thus to exercise me, that so it might divert and take off my thoughts from that, that might have been prejudicial to the glory of his free mercy and my eternal good.

And for the making it publique, know, the kind acceptance I knew it would finde from some, and the good it might do to others, prevented my looking upon it as waste Paper, choosing rather to adventure it abroad upon these hopes, then out of fear, dreading the censures of others conceal it; onely this may cause some trouble in me, I think it will finde none of so low a birth as it self, therefore may want a companion, and peradventure may meet with disdain for the Parents sake; but for this there is a comfort, for the subject will be the honor of it, being a comfortable Contemplation for a poor sin besmearched soul, shewing ( though weakly) that there is a precious Fountain set open for sin and for uncleanness; and the way to obtain a washing in it, is by a true Faith (a precious gift) in the Spring or Head of this Fountain Jesus Christ, for all our Springs are in him; it pleased the Father that in him should all fullness dwell: for of him, and through him, and for him are all things: To him be the glory for ever. Amen.

Thine in Christ Jesus,

Elizabeth Major.

Courteous Reader,

The writing of these Lines, in to shew the occasion of the insuing discourse: therefore I shall declare the first of my going out into the world: I was, till the fifteenth or sixteenth year of my age, brought up by a godly and careful Father (my Mother being taken from me in my infancy) from whom I went to a great and honorable Family, where no vice I think was tolerated; and under a wise and vertuous Governess, I lived nere ten years, til God was pleased to visit me with Lameness, by the taking of a great heat and cold; which weakness did not violently seize on me, but my degrees deprived me of my strength, and in a short time made me almost unable to go or help my self: Then was I forc’t to repair home to my Father again, where I was persued with an inordinate desire of recovery; and having some money in my own hands, I endeavored the accomplishing of that desire, without an humble and obedient submission to the will of God in it ( and this, O this was my great evil( therefore he was pleased to let me take my course in the search of it, but blasted me in all I used, so that I spent all, and was much worse.

Now it often hapned in my resort to those that pretended skill in lameness (with whom I sometimes lodged) that they were such a people, as I did not know (by experience) had been in the world, vertue being at such a distance from them, and vice tolerated in their habitation, and such evils as I could not think had been in a Gospel-age.

Therefore being returned home, where upon serious consideration I saw my folly, and found that I had lost much time, in which I had offended God, and deprived my self of that little health I enjoyed, spent my money, and onely gaining a sight and knowledge of those things, I humbly desire my soul may never abhor; therefore I had no rest in me, till I had shewed my indignation against what so much offended me.

Now for my writing against some sins, know (they were the fruits of some sad hours) in the particularing of some, all are included: But it may be some will say, There are sins named, that your blushing Sex should want confidence to mention. To this I answer, Sure I am, that fewer ever writ against them, then committed them: O I fear, I fear there is no sin under the Sun, but some one or other of my Sex have been stained with the guilt of it ( I wish my judgement failed in this;) therefore I desire to put on a holy confidence, and not to blush to declare the hatred of my soul against any of them.

For when I had in my thoughts in some measure unmasked sin, and saw the ugly deformity of it, and how there was no sin but might in some kind be owned by me, the seed of all by nature being in me, free grace onely making the difference; I thought I might, without offence to any, shew how much I abhor the things I have seen and heart to be acted under the sun.

And now to you, O my friends, I present these poor and undrest lines, being as they came into the world, I not finding any hand to help me to put it into a better dress then what it brought with it.

For though I was not ambitious of a beautiful babe, yet I confess I would gladly have had it appear comely; therefore where you finde it harsh or uneven, know, it should not have come abroad so, had not my ignorance to finde the fault been the cause of it. Yet I beseech you, though faulty, to accept it, hoping that in it you shall finde truth and plainness; so that if it do no good in the world, yet it will do no hurt, still serving me here as my lesson to learn and practice, till summoned by death; and then I shall leave it as a Legacy to my friends, whose Prayers I beg, and shall by the help of my Savior return mine for them.

Elizabeth Major.

SIN and MERCY

Briefly Discovered.

Consolation.

What ailst O Soul, so sadly here to lie,

Besmear’d with grief? for oft I hear thee cry,

What shall I do, or whether shall I go,

To be reliev’d of this my heavy wo?

Soul.

O I am sick even ready now to die,

Yet none gives comfort to my misery.

Consolation.

Alas what is the cause of this thy grief?

Conceal it not, you may so finde relief:

Tell me, I pray, what is’t oppresseth you,

You thus complain? fear not, I will be true:

Doth this distemper from some humor grow?

Thy grief thou must to some Physician show:

Or doth it rise from the sad thoughts of sin,

Which a long season thou hast lived in?

Soul.

O that’s the cause for which I cry, I pray

To Christ for help, while her, while here I stay,

From my sad eyes a brinish shower may fall;

And beg for pardning mercy, even for all.

The sins that ever I committed have,

Upon my bended knees, lo here I crave:

Therefore if comfort you to me can give,

I pray conceal it not, that I may live

To bless the time I you did meet withal,

And to assist you, on the most high call.

Consolation

Is this the cause, O soul, thou moan dost make?

Why then weep on; and let thy heart still ake

At every thought of sin, let none pass by;

Not thy beloved ones, but for all cry,

And sue for mercy: O sure thou needst not fear,

But humbly wait, thee in his time he’l hear,

And answer too; look thorow that deep died glass

Of his blest wounds, let them not slightly pass

Thy serious thought: There view the price he paid,

By faith behold the satisfaction made

By his blest self: for know his gift is free,

As well as full, out of love did he

Give his blest Son: In steps of mercy trace

Thy righteous God, unto the throne of Grace,

Where humbly lay thy self as low as dust,

Beholding nought below a Christ that must

Afford thee comfort: O raise thy thoughts to him,

And let his love constrain thee to hate sin.

Let dearest love, I say, unite thee still

To thy Lord Christ; submit unto his will

In thy requests: Believe with him you shall

Injoy a God, for with a Christ comes all:

Then ponder well, my soul, the thing you’d have,

And humbly wait, as well as humbly crave.

Soul.

’Tis reconcilement to my offended God

(Whose sins deserv’d a sword, although a rod

He pleas’d to take) a free discharge from all

My sad offences, under the which I fall:

If he help not that’s mighty, alas my crimes

Are hainous, behold the place, the times

Come in against me; O where then can I haste?

Consolation.

I say again, unto the throne of Grace.

Believe God is, and that reward he will

The faithful seekers, believe, believe him still;

’Tis life eternal to know thy God to be

The onely very God, and Christ to see

As sent from him, a Savior unto thee;

Believ’t for truth, the work that he begins

By his blest Spirit, he to perfection brings:

Conversion then’s his work, O seek, O pray,

And humbly wait, seek him, seek him, I say,

That’s found of them that sought him not: O he

That’s hight and lofty, inhabiting Eternity,

Rest no, till born again, thy heart new fram’d,

Old things to hate; O blush, O be asham’d

To feed on husks, when childrens bread is free.

Are crums for dogs, and yet but husks for thee?

There’s milk for babes, and meat for stronger men

At thy Fathers Table; leave husks for them

That live Swine like, the fare’s too low, too mean

For high born souls, as thine being born again;

For gracious souls relish no meaner fare

Then lovely Christ his service is their care;

For he’s a tender Lord, and will not break

A bruised reed, though impotent and weak:

A torrent of corruptions shall not drown,

The kindled spark that mercy doth surround:

What then if gifts be small, droop not, for they

Deck not for Heaven. grace onely wins the day.

Therefore Saint Pauls advice I with thee take,

Let him that stole, that filthy sin forsake:

Hast thou unjustly the goods of any got?

It felt ’Twill waste with it a well gain’d stock.

Alas, be careful, keep it not, make speed,

Restore the same, make peace; for know the deed

Which thou hast done is naught, alas thy God

Thou hast offended, believ’t he with his rod

Will thee correct: If thou repent not now,

His wrath may kindle, and his angry brown

He’l bend against thee; I wish thee not to stay;

Hast for a pardon, Believe, believe and pray:

And then for comfort, if thou of Thieves wert chief,

Thy Savior once had mercy on a thief.

Soul.

Lord, unto thee I come, who onely art

Able to pay my debt, and inrich my heart

With saving Grace. O empty’t of all dross,

I, with Saint Paul count all, save thee, but loss,

And with Zaccheus restore; then maist thou say,

Into this soul salvations come this day:

For none directs the heart to good, I see,

But thy blest self; therefore I halte to thee,

Humbly desiring, that though my store be small,

My love and prayers may extend to all.

Assist me Lord, to do what good I may,

And where I would but cannot, let love, I pray,

Still hover there, for all I want is thee,

And thou badst ask, therefore I haste to thee:

If Lord thou be my Pilot, my ship to steer,

Though tost with tempests, yet no wrack I fear;

Keep then this Bark from roving, and let it be,

Fill’d with thy gales and mounted up to thee.

On Pride caused by Wealth.

Consolation.

Or is it pride? Alas, how low’s the rate

The soul’s at, whom an angry God doth hate?

What is’t transports thee thus beyond thy self;

Is’t honor, beauty, strength, wisdom or wealth?

If wealth that puffs thee, stay and take a view,

For in the day of wrath wealth will not do

Thee any good, ‘Tis righteousness prevails;

Experience shews, abused wealth oft fails:

What secret unseen ways to waste a store,

A God offended hath? he can make poor.

For soon the Giver can thy treasures turn

Into flame, them and thy self to burn:

The moth can eat thy garments, and cankred rust

Thy bags of treasure, if once accurst;

Besides, wealth and content we often see

At variance, where wealth is, content wont be.

Again, they have Eagles wings, and will obey

Their Lords commission, and halt away:

Or if death come, while you in wealth do flow,

No gifts can stay him, no riches here below

Regardeth he; he’l not esteem thee more

Because thou art rich, nor slight thee, being poor:

All that that wise rich King could ever see

Under the Sun, he calls but vanity;

Yet I confess the rich hath larger powers

To do good, and to be so; for their hours

Are not consum’d with sweaty toil; I say,

The poor mans labor scarce ends with the day:

Therefore if rich, desire, desire to be

A wise rich man, a danger to foreseee:

Prosperity in Religion, I have heard say,

As Ivy is to th’ Oak, ’Twill suck away

The heart and life, but makes the Oak decay.

O then if rich, shun pride, relieve the poor,

Praise God for wealth, pray him to bless thy store;

If poor, despair not, Gods providence you see

Extends to Sparrows, believe, and ’Twill to thee:

If betwixt both, thy state I hold the best,

Who hath to give, and wants not, lives at rest:

Yet, O my soul, be thou obedient still,

In all estates submit unto his will:

Soul.

Is wealth unconstant, is danger hid therein?

Is love of it the root of every sin?

Is here nought then, but vain and empty shows?

Is nothing here wherewith the soul can close?

Is here one great? hath another riches store?

Are some in th’ mean? do others live but poor?

Is wealth so various as oft to take a flight,

To inrich at noon, forsake before’t be night?

Then, O my soul, away, and sees true wealth,

That rust nor moth can’t eat, nor thief by stealth

Deprive thee of; away, hie to the brest

From whence it flows, and where’s eternal rest.

And Lord, while here I stay, grant me content

And grace to praise thee, what-ever here is sent:

O give me, Lord, true faith, then shall I flie

From all that’s earth, and mount to thee on high.

On Pride caused by Honor.

Consolation

Or is’t with honors airy wings you flie?

If’t be usurp’d, or else abus’d, ’Twil lie

As low as dust, thy self with it shall fall,

For presidents to minde the stories call

Of Absalom, lo through by ways he try’d

To get a Crown, in which attempt he dy’d.

Remember Herod, who took more then his due,

For which presumption, the silly worms him slew.

And that proud King, who’ld not confess that God

Was King of Kings, until he felt his rod;

Who then his throne must quit, he, he alas

Must like a beast, even with beast eat grass;

The fields his Palace, his Canopy the skies,

The earths his pallet, where his body lies;

Which body must be wet with heavens dew,

His hair like eagles feathers on him grew,

And nails like to birds claws, all honor’s split,

Where now’s great Babel he for’s honor built?

From men he’s driven, he with beasts must grase,

Till he confesseth God, and gives him praise:

His kingdoms then restor’d, his former grace

He then receives; the proud, God can abase:

The wise man doth the truest way descry,

Before true honor goes humility:

If through a vertuous life thou fitted be

For honor, and honor be fit for thee;

Climb not that hill through by-ways. God will see,

And take his time to make a search for thee:

What if in Egypts Prison? he’l take thee thence,

And make of thee an high Egyptian Prince.

What if a shepherd? thy God thy same can bring,

Unto the Court, anoint thee Israels King:

What if a Captive? at Court thou shalt be seen,

Be lik’d and lov’d, and made a glorious Queen.

Let worthless brambles for a Kingdom cry,

Let thy care be, to reign eternally:

It is his promise, he will a Kingdom give

Unto his own, to reign with him and live.

Soul.

I see all honor’s vain, decay it must,

To day mount high to morrow as low as dust:

’Tis others actions, and their airy breath

Must give the honor, as vain it is as earth:

Therefore the honor I on earth do crave,

Is here to serve my Lord; that while I have

A Pilgrimage on earth, my care may be

In all my acts, to praise and honor thee.

That life being finish’d. all past that transitory,

I be partaker in thy eternal glory.

On Pride caused by Beauty.

Consolation

Or is it beauty that delighteth thee,

That one days’s flower? for beauty that we see

In most perfection, may blasted be ere night,

A Cherub face that pleas’d, now may affright,

Being liable to change while here it is:

Or if it escape, old age it cannot miss:

Or say it flourish, it may prove a snare

Unto the owners, beauty requires care;

It draws most eyes, yet it with vertue deck,

And vertue will give to those eyes a check

That dare to send a tainted look to harm,

Or wrong her honor that by vertu’s arm’d;

All eqyal welcome finde such ill suits bring,

The poor as rich, the beggar as the King.

’Twill shun all places where such Serpents dwell,

Or flee the nest before it break the shell;

Corrupted breaths it loathes: an outward grace

Goes with the inward, both waiting on the face

That’s truly beauteous; the grace that is Divine

Makes it more lovely, and with more luster shine.

Sure beauty void of grace is but a trap

To catch fond fools, the wise regard not that.

I have seen vertue lov’d through’t hath been set

But in an ordinary Cabinet;

And beauty loath’d when given to excess,

Or else corrupted with lasciviousness;

Therefore I’le value beauty where I finde,

It is adorned with a vertuous minde.

Soul.

Make me, O Lord, like the Kings Daughter, which

That beauty hath that’s truly called such;

And with thy grace, O deck my naked soul,

Then own thy own, in mercy me beheld:

O make me lovely, frame my heart aright,

That thou mayest like, and then be my delight:

For ‘Tis that beauty, ‘Tis that (Lord) I crave

That is within, that beauty I would have;

For that’s the beauty thou (my beautious Lord)

Art pleased with, that beauty me afford.

On Pride caused by Strength.

Consolation.

Or is it strength thou boast’st of? it can’t afford

Thee help in need, ’Tis weakness with the Lord.

If thou on it presume, he soon can turn

It into weakness, but said with him, and done:

Witness Goliath, who David did reject,

Who slang a stone, which stone God did direct

Into his fore-head, which fell’d him there to lie

Till David came, then must this Giant die:

Yet not of strength or weapons, David boasts,

His hope was in his God, the Lord of hosts:

If he but to his weakest Creatures say,

Go seize that strength, they suddenly obey

His voice, and bring that strength unto the grave:

Us they exceed, they’l do what he would have.

Suppose a fiery feaver press thy heart,

’Twill soon send weakness into every part;

Or if some anguish fits thy strong limbs shake,

How wil’t infeeble thee, and thy strength break?

Or if thy Maker please to melt away

Thy strength by secret ways, what a decay

Of nature grows? but by what means, or when,

Thou canst not tell; so wastes the strength of men.

What strange unheard of ways God brings about,

Strength to suppress, when once the word is out.

Experience tells, we almost daily see,

Some well man sick, some strong man weak to be:

They fall like leaves, strength goes when he doth call,

And the weak conquers, if he but say they shall.

Gideons three hundred made an Army flie,

Whose multitude like Grashoppers did lie:

Then, O my soul, request him to increase,

And strengthen faith, and give thee his true peace.

Soul.

O great Jehovah, everlasting strength, I know,

Abides with thee, all’s weakness here below:

All strength but thine is vain, to thee I cry

For strength in weakness, help in misery;

And grant that strength wherein I glory most,

May be in thee the mighty Lord of host.

O give me thy true grace, that never I

May swallow mercies here unthankfully:

But look on those, who better, yet lower be,

And let thy mercy raise my heart to thee.

On Pride caused by Wisdom.

Consolation.

Or art thou proud of Wisdom? alas ’Twill fail,

If in the common stream thou hoist thy sail,

And stear thy course but with Ahithophel,

The Haven to expect, must needs be hell:

‘Tis Gods own word, mans wisdom is with me

But foolishness, their wise men fools shall be;

Those that with worldly wisdom most abound,

God can by foolish things their wit confound.

Not many wise, nor mighty men are chose,

Nor many noble, the richest prize they lose:

What will our rich, wise Politicians say,

When all their Hell-fetch’d wisdom faileth, nay,

Shall never fail to to tice them still along,

To hear their doom, Depart from me, be gone,

I know you not, you fools, my love I say

You fold, for naught, depart, depart away?

They’l curse the wisdom then that made them lay

Their souls at stake, nay curse the very day

They their own counsel took, in which they toil

Their souls to ruine, and of true joy beguile.

True wisdom hath a far more beautious face,

Though oft with wants obscur’d, yet hath a grace

That far out-shines all painted wisdom here,

That is esteem’d of most, but comes not near

True wisdom, which is the true fear of God,

This hath a Crown, the other hath a rod:

True wisdom hateth pride, all evil ways

She doth abhor, no lewdness in her stays;

She doth exceed the gold of Ophir far,

And precious stones are of no price to her:

The Kings and Princes her inferiors be,

And stand amazed at her Majesty.

Blest is the man that in his search shall gain

This noble princess, who’s known by her train,

Wisdom and Prudence house-companions be,

Counsel and strength within her Courts I see:

The waiting-women that on this Princess tends,

Are the true glory, and time that never ends:

Knowledge and justice in her Courts resides,

And lasting pleasures in her Palace bides:

Riches and Honor her commands attend,

Joy and delights upon her friends descend:

And those that to her Palace of delight

Will please to come, she’l honor with her fight;

Though mean she’l love them, if they’l her imbrace,

She’l them preserve, with favors them she’l grace;

She will intract them in the ways of peace,

And from her labor she will never cease,

Until she bring thy soul into her rest,

Casting it safely in thy Saviors brest:

This is true wisdom, that makes a soul to see

Itself as nothing, its all in Christ to be:

Now in my pilgrimage I cannot finde,

Under the Sun, one thing to proud the minde;

Yet where these do exceed, or stem to smile,

Oft prove but Traytors, and with pride they’l soil

Ungarded hearts. O then resist, keep in

Aspiring thoughts, they’l blaze else into sin:

And when that flame is broke about thy ears,

What is’t can quench it, but repenting tears?

Tears from a heart opprest with sense of sin,

Streams to the Fountain that’s open to bath it;

Then like sad Jeremy thou’l act a part,

And weep in secret for the pride of heart:

Then you’l consider what’s lent, improv’d must be

To the givers glory; for know ’Tis he, ’Tis he

Will call thee to a reckoning, and if thou show

No good account, a Sentence then of wo

Must pass, and thou to utter darkness go:

O then, my soul, be humble, of low estate

In thy own eyes, shun pride at any rate.

Soul.

O righteous Lord, what ere my talent be,

Give me a heart, directed Lord, by thee

How it to use, to sute best with thy will,

For thy assistance grant I may beg still:

Lord, if it be wealth, give with it such a heart,

That for thy sake the poor may have a part:

Lord if’t be honor, give with’t humility,

Counting my chiefest honors, to honor thee:

Lord, if’t be beauty, give with’t a vertuous soul

In it thee to admire, thy name t’ extol:

Lord, if’t be strength, then sanctifie the same

Unto thy service, thereby to praise thy name:

Lord, if’t be wisdom, grant it be in thee,

To search thy will, and do it, O bless’t to me;

Ground it, I beg, upon the rock that’s sure,

To ride out storms, and to the end endure.

What ere’s the gift inrich my heart with grace,

I may with joy behold thy glorious face:

Then give, O Lord, what talent thou shalt like,

So thou hast glory, I grace to use it right.

On Immodesty.

Consolation.

Or is’t immodesty, that dark sin of night?

A night-Owl fiend, whose black guilt hates the light.

For if a modest tongue the dark deeds name,

Acted by some, a crimson blush should stain

Their innocence; yet God’s All-seeing eye

Those deeds of darkness he doth see, and pry

Into the heart, beholding with what love

This sin is here committed; although above,

Yet over-sees the ill chose ways we trudge,

And for the same in the last day he’l judge:

For England sure doth Sodom pass in sins,

O here’s committed unseen, unheard of things,

To former ages: by my own Sex are done,

Things but to name, would taint a modest tongue:

Therefore my self I’ll silence, since tongue nor ear,

Of a chast soul can’t it describe, nor hear:

For certainly, ’Tis scarce unknown to any,

With grief I speak, ill’s acted by too many:

But hear thy sentence, of whatere degree,

Gods face with comfort never look to see:

But as an angry Judge (who judgeth true,

Although he crow’d thee with a damned crew)

Unless thou now repent, lost time thou’lt rue;

Know late repentance is not always true:

Therefore flie sin, with speed hast to thy God,

Behold, he frowns, O look he shakes his rod:

Turn then from sin, that makes a God unkinde,

With speed repent, with faith seek Christ and finde;

Perhaps he’l own thy debt, make known thy fame,

That thou art one for whom to die he came:

Who knows but he in thy distress may cry,

Doth none condemn thee? believ’t neither do I.

But go not hence with half an arrant, sure

If now acquitted, thou must sin no more.

O then, my soul, sue in that blessed Name,

Believe that he to die for sinners came,

To lose sins fetters, from Prison set thee free,

And of a slave to make a Prince of thee:

O then be humble, repent without delay,

For time hath wings, see how it posts away.

Soul.

Away all wanton thoughts, flie hence, be gone,

I you abhor, for your dark deeds too long

I favored, I’le your inchantings flie,

And post to Christ, beg faith on him to lie;

I’le lay before him body, soul, and sin,

And beg his righteousness to cover them:

Even at his feet, I’le fall, his mercy crave.

By faith make known, his favor I would have;

And though great clouds of sins my self can see,

Yet hold loves banner between them and thee:

And grant, O savior, I thee no more offend,

But in thy service my time on earth I spent.

On Drunkenness.

Consolation.

Or is it Drunkenness thou wallowest in,

That Beast-like Monster, that sense-bereaving sin?

That reason doth unhouse, gives vice the place,

Provokes thy God, brings thee in deep disgrace:

It thee despots, the bravest spirits then

Stand as despised, being more beasts then men:

There’s many humors, which I can’t descry,

Some I observ’d even as a stander by;

Some silent in that humor, and being come,

Unto themselves, do grieve for what is done:

Others are over-kinde, then if you crave

A high priz’d thing, ‘Tis then but ask and have:

Some are immodest, contentious, bent on ill,

Abusing all that seem to cross their will,

Others are stupid, sensless, nay, for a time,

Seem dead, their Spirits are so soak’d in wine:

Others are raging mad, blaspheme and kill;

Their Maker, and their friends then suffer ill

From them that reason flies, ‘Twont take thy part,

As loath to lodge within a Drunkards heart:

Thou fit’st thy self a subject for the fiend

Who hates thy good, seducing thee to sin;

Therefore beware, left in that hot carere,

Upon the wall a hideous hand appear,

Writing thy doom, ’Twill make thy knees to shake,

Thy joints ’Twill loosen, send far to every part:

Go weep an Ocean, go sale to Christ therein,

For a sea of tears can’t wash away one sin;

Make sighs the gales of wind to wast thee on

That brinish sea, go sigh, go weep alone:

If that wont do, if possible it might,

Weep tears of blood, go weep, weep day and night.

But yet remember tears are indifferent

And can’t admit of audience, unless they are sent

From troubled souls, ’Tis not all tears that flow,

But godly tears, that must for current go;

Sail in that sea, to him commands the storms,

Perchance he’l keep thee safe from farther harms,

The tempest still, and make the winds to cease,

Dry up thy tears, and bring thee to his peace;

If thou no time neglect, but humbly crave

Admittance through a Christ, thou maist it have:

For he can grant what-ever you request,

And he shall like, and bring thee to his rest.

Old counts he’l clear, sins past he’l never view,

If thou hast faith, and thy repentance true:

Then leave that loathsom path, let none I say,

Intice thee further in that steepy way.

Soul.

Lord, I confess, that reason, sense, and all

Thou dost bestow (save grace) too little shall

Be to resist temptations, sometimes that we

Are tempted with; Alas, then how can he

Resist the last, that robs himself of those,

Which in that day should help him to oppose:

O no, all’s not enough, Lord, to withstand

Temptations that assault on either hand.

And now, O Lord, I do confess, that part

Of all corrupted seed is in my heart;

And when ill seed shall fall upon ill ground,

What fruit is there, but rotten and unsound?

Corrupted works are strong, alas I say,

’Tis easie to walk in a desired way:

And if this sin, or others, don’t act in me,

The praise to thy preventing mercies be:

I do beseech thee, increase my hate to this,

And other sins, O pardon what’s amiss:

And Lord, thy grace I do most humbly crave

All ill to flie, and do as thou would’st have,

That to the rule of a new creature I

On earth may walk that when thou call’st to die,

Mercy and peace may on my soul attend,

And with my Lord have joys that never end.

On Covetousness.

Consolation.

Or is it covetousness, that golden Divel

As many use it? that ground and root of evil,

Which like a Christmas Box, till brok’t has been,

Can’t vent the treasure that’s inclosed within:

Thy sins and bags being full, suspect with fear,

Lest thou art broke, and what is held most dear

Abroad be scattered, for wealth hath made thee poor,

Thou wantst in plenty, thy sins increase the more

For his lent treasure, ungrateful thou hast been,

And for thy wealth, rewarded him with sin:

Thou hast not learn’d that art to get a living,

To feed the poor, and to grow rich by giving.

When thou shalt on thy restless death-bed lie,

How wouldst thou make thy earthen angels flie,

To gain assurance of eternity?

But hark what once was said, Thy coyn and thee

Perish together; know thou, God’s gift is free:

His boundless mercy says, but ask and have,

If it be fit, and thou in faith canst crave.

But thou abusing of his mercy, know

’Twill plead against thee, turn thy mortal foe.

The sentence then to fear, thou grain of dust,

Is, Hence curst miser, who falsifiest thy trust:

I gave thee wealth to keep my Lambs from harm,

Yet they want meat, and wool to keep them warm:

How couldst thou pass the Prisons, or hear the cry

Of the hunger-bit how couldst thou pass them by

That cry’d for my dear sake, something bestow:

Perhaps they were blinde, or lame, opprest with wo

Of other kindes, whose visage did proclaim

Their sad estate, to thee for help they came:

How couldst thou see the widowed mothers tears

Shed for her self, and children, whose cares and fears

Each day renew, and yet thy close shut door

Thou keepest against them, that of thy vast store

They might not tast? thus thou griev’st my poor:

How couldst thou let the wandring strangers rome

About for lodging, and not invite them home;

Or see the naked, whose limbs with cold were num,

And yet to pity thy covetous heart, not won;

Or see the thirsty, whose fainting spirits would fain

Have comfort from thee, yet nothing it could drain?

How couldst thou see the sick on wants to feed,

And yet not be Physician to their need?

How couldst thou pass, and objects daily see,

That wanted part of what I lent to thee?

But know, because no mercy here you show,

I tak’t as done against me; therefore go

To lasting flames, depart, go take your room

With fiery fiends; away, for ’Tis your doom,

Where you shall not in sweltering heat obtain

One drop of water, but they in bliss shall reign:

I made thee steward, and thou becam’st unjust,

And hidst my talent, therefore thou art accurst

Amongst the wretched rabble, pack on thy way

Thou hast adored, for all my ways, I say,

Were in disgrace with thee, now be it known

I thee disclaim, thou of my joy sharest none.

What canst thou plead in this so desperate case?

Behinde fiends wait thee, before thy sinful face

An angry Judge condemning; on thy right hand

Are Saints for bliss; upon the left do stand

The cursed goats; above thee Heavens bliss,

Beneath hells torturing pains, remediless:

Hark what I wish thee, before this cloud appears

Too black, disperse it with thy sighs and tears,

Call conscience to account, all corners clear,

Although to thee like mountains they appear:

Go heavy laden to thy Savior, fall

Before his face, in faith for mercy call:

What if he’s silent, not seeming thee to hear?

Believe he mindes thee, to him such crys are dear.

What if his justice plead, send her away;

He’l say, I am sent to those that go astray;

Ply thou thy suit, cry help, O help me, Lord,

O Son of righteousness thy help afford.

What if he seems unkinde, says childrens bread

Is not for Whelps? truth Lord, yet whelps are fed

(Humbly reply) with crums that daily fall

From childrens table, it’s for crums I call;

For crums of mercy, I confess are more

Then we deserve, therefore my soul be sure

Humbly to wait, and humbly to him cry,

Help Lord, or else I perish eternally.

O look through all on Christ, the full discharge

Made by himself, believ’t ‘Tis very large,

Extending far, we see from his blest Throne

Large crums do fall, what if on thee for one?

Who knows but he in love may view thy case,

And let thee know an Achan and his race

Must be found out and ston’d, thy sins cashierd,

And that with speed, or else some judgements feard;

I pray thee then repent, and that with haste,

Before the eleventh hour be fully past.

Soul.

Lord, I confess, the branches that do grow

From this ill root, are earthy, base and low.

For a Soul possest with love of earth can’t flie,

Her leaden wings can’t rise nor mount so high

As thy blest Throne: O then unlink my heart

I may with Mary choose the better part.

Lord, ’Tis confest, I am an ill deserver:

And had I power, should prove a fatal carver

Unto my self, and hazzard good for gain,

Fixt on the worst, and eyeing least the main.

Unfix me Lord, from earth, O set me free,

And make me to fit to close onely with thee:

Lord, from thick clay unclog my drossy heart,

And of true treasure give me a childes part.

On Prodigality.

Consolation.

Or is’t with Prodigals thou tak’st thy flight,

Thy self to ruine? nay, some with delight

Do study ways their large estates to waste,

Preventing time, with late repented haste.

Go view thy Picture, to the life set out

In sacred Writ, go view, go look about

Thy sad estate, believ’t may happen thine

To turn a slave, and feed on husks with swine:

Or if with gaming you waste your state and time,

Know, God’s Spectator, and his way’s divine,

He likes not of thy course, thy way is sin:

Nor is he pleas’d with thee, although thou win.

Great inconvenience doth with gaming come,

Time is mis-spent, perhaps thy friend undone,

Thou brought to swear, forswear, quarrel, nay kill

Those ere the play began thou might’st love well.

What piece of conscience then, if at thy door

Vengeance should rap? Believe it, blood will roar,

And God will hear, and finde the Actors out,

When once he sends his privy search about:

Therefore beware those baits, seek God divine,

Break off thy play, stake not that soul of thine.

Hast thou spare-time, contemplate on his works

That made thee; for in his idleness there lurks

A Sodoms punishment, unless prevented

By his free mercy, thy sins by thee lamented.

Hast thou spare means? each hour will present

Fit objects to thee, that overplus to vent:

What ere’s thy Delilah, them thou shalt finde

In poverty, in kindness much like swine:

O hasten home, confess thou hast offended,

See thou repent, be sure that all be mended:

Then Saints and men shall joy, musick shall sing,

My Son was lost, my Son is found again.

Soul.

O righteous Father, look on me through that Son

Of thy dear love, O pardon what is done.

And grant that I no minute more may waste

In sins soil’d ways, but to thy mercies hast;

And of whatere thy wisdoms pleas’d to send,

O grant no mite, I may there vainly spend.

But to thy glory use what her I have,

Lord thy directions in the use I crave.

And for my time, such objects grant I finde

As are divine, upon them set my minde.

Thy greatness, goodness, and thy love to me,

Which in the death of thy dear Son I see;

The joys of Heaven that thou to thine wilt give,

Hells lasting pains, where all the wicked live;

Of the last and strict account that is required,

And the vanity of earthly things desired;

The uncertainty we have here of our stay,

And as we fall we lie till that great day:

And from these truths grant grace and knowledge grow

Of thee my God, my self, and things below:

O so reform me, that I may walk with thee,

That I of time or means no waiter be:

And in thy time translate this soul of mine

From earth to Heaven, in glory there to shine.

On prophaning of the Sabbath.

Consolation.

Or liv’st thou to prophane that sacred day,

A sin that’s back’d with judgements? tis I say,

To many known of Judgments that have fell

On the bold breakers of this day.

Then will Maist thou expect, committing the same sin,

The self-same judgement, if thou offend therein.

There are too many on that day play tricks

Of greater wickedness, then gathering sticks,

And yet have scapt the rod: but know and fear

That day of God, wherein thou shalt appear

Unmasked. For know, God hath two days:

One the Lords day, which he commanding says,

Keep holy, this day is to us revealed;

The others the day of God, this is concealed

From men and Angels: Yet sure the time appears

Of that great day; what if’t be moneths or years,

’Twill quickly come, then reckoning must be made

How the Lords day is used, for as’ tis said,

They that keep my Sabbath keep, them will I bring

Unto my holy mount, with joy to sing

Within my house of prayer; nay, they shall feed

With holy Jacob, believe it, Truth indeed

Hath spoken it; if thou pollute this day,

Devouring fire I’le kindle, that none I say

Shall quench: The Lord did judge the man to die

For gathering sticks, then where can many flie

From Justice now, since some offend much more;

For sure there be will drink, will game, will [blotted out word]

Upon that day, then plead they don’t incroach

On any’s right; perchance they some reproach

For stricter care; but know, that Christ divine

Is of the Sabbath Lord, who’l not resign

His right to any, nor yet divide, ‘Tis evil,

He’l not part stakes with flesh, the world, the devil:

He will have all or nothing, O then resign

Thy all to him, dely no longer time.

Soul.

Lord, give an humble heart, that I may yield,

O get the conquest ere thou quit the field:

And melt it, Lord, by mercies, if that wont do,

Break it in pieces, and then make it new.

O frame it to thy will, to thee ‘Tis known,

And not to me, O Lord, though ‘Tis mine own.

O brink it to obedience, make’t what thou wilt

So thou wilt own it, help ere my soul be spilt;

It is confest, I have lavisht out thy day,

As if my own, for which I grieve, I pray

That for the time to come, great God, to thee

Thy own be given, and grant, O Lord, that I

No more usurp thy right, but humbly crave

Mercy in Christ, for all those deeds I have

Offended in, behold me through my Lord

And dearest Christ, mercy in him afford,

And bless thy day to me, that while I stay

Upon this earth, my life a Sabbath may

Be to thy self, my life a Sabbath may

Be to thy self and in thy time grant me

That Sabbath’s rest eternally with thee.

On blaspheming the blessed Name of God.

Consolation.

Or is’t that holy, glorious, worthy Name

A thing God favors, thou dares to blaspheme?

So blest a Name it is, in its contained

Salvation, yet by foul mouthes ‘Tis prophaned.

Each sex and age too much this name abuse,

Few do it with a holy reverence use:

The very Babes that cannot yet speak plain,

Have learn’d to prattle out this Name in vain.

It is a sin so frequent, that with’t indeed

We are much soil’d, not many sure are freed:

It is a sin wherewith many are grown

Like fleshed devils scarce from devils known

By their Blasphemous Language. O sure they call

Down many showers of stones, though in the fall

They scape the danger; yet fear, thou art reserved

For the last death, so oft by thee deserved:

Some study oaths and swear them, take a pride

God to blaspheme; but know, he’l them deride,

And in his time the dregs of wrath will wring,

To those he covers not with mercies wing.

For soon this God of all perfection can

Consume vain earth, and all this nothing man.

O time of errors! O worst of ages! where

The Gospel shines, and glorious lights appear,

Yet most love darkness, their hearts so clouded be

Th’ ave ears, and hear not; eyes, and will not see.

But hark, I’le whisper a word or two to wake

Thy sleeping conscience, this sin forsake, forsake;

Nothing in sinful self can profit thee,

All’s rotten fruit from that corrupted tree:

But wer’t allowed at the last day to plead

In sins defence, what could for this be said,

I cannot finde. The drunkard may alledge,

The grape was sweet, I healths was forc’t to pledge:

The unjust dealer cries, Light weights, short measure

Help’d fill my bags, did much increase my treasure:

The Usurer may plead, by my extortion I

Did others vex, but a rich man did die:

And so most other sins may finde excuse,

Yet all will serve them for no other use

Then heap more coals upon a conscience flamed,

But for this sin not one thing can be named;

For who’l believe a common swearer? who

Wont sooner trust a Heathen, Turk or Jew?

What’s in this sin to please, I cannot see,

Unless to grieve a God, can pleasure thee.

Of this I am sure, his mercy in sparing’s great;

But fear, his staying is till sins compleat:

But if in mercy his judgements he delay,

Make use of time, forsake thy sins and pray.

The present thou may’st claim, whose is the rest?

Know ‘Tis concealed within thy Saviors brest.

Then hazard not a Christ, thy eternal joy

For sins sweet pleasure it will thee much annoy:

But come, my soul, before we further run,

O view with me, and see what sin hath done

Unto thy Lord and self: O sure ’Twill move

A stony heart, dissolv’d with tears of love;

It thee depriv’d of favor where life did rest,

And dispossest thee of Paradise possest;

It caus’d a curse upon the earth to stall,

Misery and death upon mans self did call;

It took from man all will to good, that he

In innocence injoy’d; alas we see

Our nature quite corrupt, no good remains:

With sin there fell such universal stains:

For all the evils that daily issue in,

Had first their entrance made by filthy sin;

It took away all hopes of Heavens bliss,

At left poor man-kinde quite remediless;

For through that gloomy cloud man could not spy,

One glimpse of comfort, alas, alas, they’l flye

Gods presence, and if Eden can afford,

They’l finde a place to hide them from the Lord,

Soul. But O, no place so secret from his sight,

No deed so dark, but he can bring’t to light:

Man now’s dis-spoil’d of innocence, Ah me!

He hath with Eve eat of the middle Tree,

He’s in a dismal state, and I in him

Alas am fallen, and cannot rise again.

Consolation. O yes, the promise of the Son is come,

Who hath discharg’d the utmost of the sum

That sin was rated, it’s on record, it’s true,

By faith he’s thine, and all that he did do

He dyed for this, redeeming them from sin,

And rose to justice his own through him:

Then he ascends, to intercede for those,

Whom form eternity he freely chose;

He’l level mountains, make straight crooked things,

He’ bring his own before the King of Kings,

Who’l like and love them, nay plead, lo, th’are mine,

My beauty’s theirs, and Lord, that beauty’s thine:

For since no works of theirs could merit love,

I took their sins on me, with death I strove;

I dyed for them, for I their debt did take,

Accept them therefore, Father, for my sake:

What answer will unto his Son be given,

That’s onely heir to’ th’ glorious King of Heaven?

But my dear Son thou art, if thou shalt crave

A suit, ‘Tis granted; for in thee I have

Accepted those believe: with thee shall rest

Thy dear bought ones, even with a Kingdom blest.

All tears I’le wipe away, free them from stain,

With Hallelujah’s they shall praise my Name.

Come my adopted children, take your place

Purchast for you, and all the godly race;

’Tis new Jerusalem, that glorious thing,

Whose Builder’s God, whose Maker is a King.

There is no death, nor pain, for all is peace,

No voice but joy, no end but an increase:

And if thou thirst, the well of life is free,

He that ore’ comes, the same my Son shall be.

The City’s wall’d, the wall is great and high,

Twelve gates there be, twelve Angels standing by;

This wall had twelve foundations, in the same

The Lambs Apostles, each one by their name:

Square was the City, the length and breadth was one;

The height the same, the wall of Jasper stone;

The City was pure gold, like shining glass,

Twelve precious stones thereof foundation was;

The gates of it were Pearls, the streets pure gold,

The Lord’s the temple, glorious to behold:

This City needs no Sun, nor Moon to shine,

The Son of righteousness gives light divine;

The gates not shut by day, night shews no face,

No unclean thing shall come within this place:

From this blest Throne a Chrystal River flows,

And on each side a Tree of life there grows:

It bears twelve fruits, and each month yields her fruit,

The leaves heal nations, precious is the root.

There shall thy face be seen, and thy blest name

Be in their foreheads, praised be the same:

But O my soul, what ere is spoken, or can,

Is to the weak capacity of man.

Though glorious things, O City, are spoke of thee,

Yet that remains which cannot uttered be;

Thy pathes are life, fulness of joy abides

In thy blest presence, on thy right hand resides

Pleasures for evermore, nothing can blast,

They’r made for all eternity to last:

Who then, my soul, this God would grieve or move,

That sets no bounds or limits to his love?

Hath sin now caus’d thee to rome astray?

Now let Christs love reclaim thee from that way.

When any lustful motion shall arise,

Hiding soul sin under a fair disguise,

Do thou consider, shall I thus offend

So good a God? O stay, was this the end

I was created for? What, him to grieve,

That from hells prison did my soul relieve?

Who pleas’d, before I breathed in this air,

To cover me with wings of love and care;

And from the Womb, until this moment he

Hath mercies poured plenteously on me;

And shall I his worst enemy esteem,

And grieve him most, that did my soul redeem?

O no, tell sin that the high end was such

Of thy Creation, as can’t admit so much

As the least thing that might dishonor bring

Unto the Name of thy great Lord and King,

Who made thee for his glory: O therefore spend

Thy time on earth unto that honored end,

And humbly wait, and seek him in his ways,

Until he puts a period to thy days.

O happy then, my soul, when thou shalt take

Thy flight to him, no rest but in his ark.

Soul.

O Lord, I know where ere’s the place, ’Tis blest,

If thou art there, perfection their shall rest:

The glorious presence of thy majesty,

Is that that makes Heaven, Heaven; ’Tis onely thee

That givest luster, making all lovely where

Thou shalt be pleas’d in mercy to appear.

In mercy, Lord, admit me (I am poor)

A place with thee although to keep a door;

Then care I not, if to Methuselah’s years

I live in poverty, in grief, in fears,

In cold and hunger, my sorrows to increase,

Having no hope on earth to finde release;

Being sick and lame, an heart oppressed sore,

Having no shelter, no bed but out of door,

All Priests and Levites, not one Samaritan

Comes by the way to pour in oyl and wine;

No not a dog to lick my festered wounds,

Nor a rich man to let me pick his crums:

Their hearts being hard, alas, and will not give

My life a dying death and ye must live.

Should all these sorrows, nay more, my life attend,

So thou art present, Lord, thy help to send

Before I faint; or should I faint before

I sink, I care not: if my grief were more

Then I can think, or any tongue report,

So thou art near, my God me to support,

I shall do well, for tempests her must cease,

Thine shall translated be unto thy peace.

Then grant I run the race here set by thee,

In obedience to thy glorious Majesty.

And though all sins in me may claim a part,

The seed of all, thou knowest, is in my heart,

The quality being odious, and a large score

I know I have; I do confess I have more

Then there are sands, or stars, or drops of rain;

Yet mercy’s greater, let not one remain

Uncancel’d, lord; though all these sins are mine,

By faith I am Christs, and Lord, that Christ is thine.

Which faith increase and strengthen, to thee I pray

To fit me for thy self, while here I stay;

My time being finish’d, O me dissolve, and take

Unto thy self for Jesus Christ his sake:

O stay not over-long, for here I see

Nothing to be desir’d, O Lord, but thee.

The Authors Prayer:

O my blessed Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, have mercy on thy poor hand-maid, Elizabeth Major.

O Gracious God, inhabiting Eternity,

My Blest redeemer, that hast Lovingly,

Bless’d me with hope, a kingdom to Inherit,

Lord of thy mercy give an humble Spirit,

And grant I pray, I may my life Amend:

Savior tis thou that canst my soul Befriend.

Jesus with grace my guilty soul Endue

Christ promis’d grace & thou, O Lord, art True;

Have care of me, deal out with thine own Hand

Mercy to my pour soul, thou canst com-Mand

On me a show of grace, sin to Avoid,

Thy praise to sing, my tongue shall be Imploy’d:

Poor, Lord I am, with fear and care Oppress’d,

Handmaid to thee I am, in thee I’le Rest.

The Authors Accusation, Confession and Belief.

Listen my soul, an Eccho thou shalt hear

From yonder hollow. Eccho, Come and appear.

Soul. Where should I come, sad Eccho? what hast to say?

I am impatient, my hast brooks no delay.

Eccho. Out from thy self, thy senses recollect,

And then what’s said may prove to good effect:

Soul. I do confess it’s sad. (Eccho) Let all be mended.

I come to tell thee, thy God thou hast offended.

He on thy sinful head did Blessings pour,

I do confess’t sad Echo. (Eccho) Yet sinn’d each hour.

From many dangers thy infancy he kept.

Soul. I do confess’t. (Eccho) And yet in sin you slept,

Thy untam’d youth he kept from daily harms.

Soul. I do confess’t. (Eccho) Yet rusht in many storms:

Thy riper years he did adorn with reason.

Soul. O there’s my grief, my sin therefore is treason.

Eccho. And when he saw his blessings woud not do,

He took his rod; thou knowest his sword was due:

And first he strikes but with a gentle blow,

To try if yet thou wouldst repent or no;

But thou mov’dst not at that, then with a dart

He wounds, but kills not quite thy heart:

The wound did smart, thou falling, O that sight

Made thee to mourn, yet mouth’dst thou not aright;

’Twas not the cause thou griev’dst for, ’Twas the effect,

This kinde of mourning (my soul) was indirect:

That godly sorrow that doth repentance bring

Is that he eyes, and is esteem’d by him:

When sadness shall arise for sin, not smart,

And the power of love possessed hath the heart;

Believe and wait, those tears of love, I say,

He truly values, in time he’l swipe away.

Soul. I do confess my sorrow was not right,

And my repentance was but Ahab like.

Eccho. Then, O my soul, this counsel I thee give,

Redeem thy time, truly believe and live:

That sense and sorrow for sin desire to have,

That he sees best, and humbly mercy crave;

True reformation in thy life begin,

Cast off the old man, and his works of sin:

Watch ore thy actions, stray not from this way,

For right performance of thy duties pray:

By faith behold his posture on the Cross,

With open arms thee ready to imbrace;

His face he bows, thee to salute, O then

Deny all self, and hasten home to him:

Send thou an humble soul for peace to cry,

That sea of mercy’s far from being dry:

See how he waits thy answer, turn and submit,

Although much faulty yet he’l pardon it:

Dangers are wrapt within all flie delays,

Therefore, my soul, trifle not out thy days;

For wrath commissioned is swift of pace,

Then husband well this evening-tide of grace;

And take thou heed thou dash not on the rock

Of sad despair, nor with the number flock

Of bold perfumers; but humbly to thy God

Kneel while he strikes, and childe-like kiss the rod:

And tak’t for truth, if in his book thou be

He’l search all corners of the world for thee;

And if thou answer not unto this call,

He’l smite thee down unto the earth with Saul:

O then flee home, return unto thy rest,

For there’s no quiet, but in a Saviors brest.

The Authors Confession.

Soul.

Of great concernment is this counsel, why

I must imbrace it, else in sin I die;

Time past was mine, time present I may

But for the future no minute call I mine: (claim,

Much time is past, much wasted is my store,

And I much grieve, I grieved not before

That ere I did so good a God offend,

Lord give me grace this inch of time to mend,

And humbly to confess forsake my sin,

And from this instant a new life begin:

Alas, from what sins dare I say I am freed,

But I have err’d in thought, in word, or deed?

Infancy. As soon as entrance in this life was made,

Misery and sin, from birth unto the grave

Did me attend: No marvel then I cry’d,

My infant eyes being open, sure I spy’d

More then the standers by could in me see.

They but Spectators, mine’s the Tragedy:

This world the Stage is, where some years I pass’d

Of infancy, then to wilde youth I haste.

Youth. Which age is like a beast that is untam’d,

For the whole man is of corruption fram’d:

Original sin our natures so did taint,

That nought it doth, but what I may repent;

And this the worst of ages, for few there be,

That in it covet onely a Christ to see:

Yet some, ’Tis true, their Maker do remember,

And for his mercies in this age, do render

Continual thanks: but Lord, the number’s small,

For most are vain, or on rash actions fall:

Some youth are rude and heady, counsel won’t turn,

Give them but reins, they from all good will run;

And some attempt such hard and dangerous things,

That after-time the thought a terror brings:

In steep and hideous paths, in cragged ways,

Some youth will run, although they end their days

In that sad road; some of an airy strain,

Are merely froth, and all they vent but vain:

No real truths within their hearts do dwell,

Their tongues are us’d such falshoods still to tell.

An age it is not worthy to describe,

Pitied by some, others their ways deride:

Who were thou art that dost these sad lines read,

Tell me, if youth may’nt call thy age to grieve.

Man-hood. And in mans primest age, what can be found,

But clouds of troubles, which him incircles round?

The field hath labor, the house is full of care,

The City’s envious, at Court most frothy are;

I’ th’ Country’s danger, in Church divisions be,

At sea small safety, at land small good I see:

On the right hand, the prosperity delights,

And on the left, grim poverty affrights:

Above lost Heaven, (but won by Christ alone)

Beneath a gulf, that’s gaping for its own.

If thou grow’st great, and gain’st a glorious name,

Yet thou maist see the funeral of that fame:

Alas, what shall I say? Who is’t that can

Describe the accidents subject to man?

Our selves best know, the sadded hours we spend,

And of our troubles that our life attend.

Old-age. If to old age we draw lifes knotted thread,

And with her maladies lie restless on our bed,

At length ’Tis cut by deaths pale withered hand,

And as we fall, before the Judge we stand.

And now my soul, though briefly thou maist see

No age from sin, and misery is free:

Besides, the sorrow it caus’d on man to lie,

The eternal Son of God for sin did die:

Observe his passion, he run a weary race,

In steps of love, my soul, thy Savior trace:

His Throne he quits, the humane nature he

Upon him takes, lays by his Majesty,

Descends on earth, where he’s revil’d with scorn,

He’s smote, he’s scourg’d, he’s stript, he’s crown’d with (thorn:

His agony was such, that a sweat of blood

Did him possess, ’cause in mans room he stood:

Witness is sought, though false, and can’t agree,

For he’s pronounced innocent to be:

Yet he must die, nay even a cursed death,

Justice for sin bereaves my Lord of breath;

Yet all his love did not unglue my heart

From earthen pleasures, until I felt the smart

Of a Fathers rod, my strength was seized, and I

In prime arrested, here I in prison lie,

Where Lord, thou knowst much sorrow I have seen,

Some prentiships I have close Prisoner been;

My Spring and Summer been so Winter like,

That I with comfort scarce bring day to night.

And to conclude, had he a poysoned dart

Sent, I confess I had but my desert;

(But her mistake me not, to think I am far,

That here corrections satisfactions are

I’ th’ least degree, or for the least offence,

For Gods corrections bear another sense.)

Eccho. Now I beseech thee for cure and clothing haste,

O let not any intice thee time to waste.

The Authors Belief.

Soul.

O Now with tears I see my sin-sick heart

Hath suckt in poyson, which runs through each part:

O where’s that Antidote, that Balsom pure,

That will not fail, but make a perfect cure?

Doth self afford it? (Eccho) O no, all’s filth within,

and all from self is odious made with sin.

Soul. Can it be purchast with gold of Ophir? see.

Eccho. O no my soul, know thou, Gods gift is free.

Soul. Is’t to be found in Courts of earthly Kings?

Eccho. No, no such styes can keep such precious things.

Soul. Is it within earths palled center? (Eccho) No,

Wouldst thou it finde, from all that’s earth then go;

If thou by faith canst mount the lofty skies,

Thou mayst behold where the true Balsom lies:

Those wings will bear thee to him, and he is to thee

Will shew his love from all eternity:

From his heart onely issues the cure for sin,

All robes they wear (in Heaven) they have from him;

For he can cure and purge all filth away,

And deck thee with his Princely robes, I say:

Then, O my soul, away, all self deny,

Tell it for clothing to a Christ thou’lt hie:

And that all robes but his with filth are soil’d,

His only rich, pure, and undefil’d;

They’l set so great a luster on thy face,

That thou shalt be admitted to his grace.

Shall Jacob know his Josephs coat, and he

Not know his sons robes wherefore they be?

O no, he’l own and love them, believ’t tis so,

Because his robes are party-coloured too,

Variety of grace makes them appear,

Like raiment of wrought-work the Queen did wear:

I tell thee, O my soul, none can express

The glorious beauty of this robe of his;

How cure and cloth, and all from him is free;

Believe and wait, is all that’s done by thee:

For he doth give to whom or when he please,

And with him comes all blessings, peace and ease:

Now if a true and saving faith thee tell,

That Christ is thine, O then, my soul, thou’rt well.

Soul. Assist me Lord, I in my self may see

All dung and dross, grant faith to rest on thee;

For I confess a will I have, ‘Tis true,

But ’Tis for evil, no good that I can do:

When I would good, then evil shews his face,

The good I leave, the evil I imbrace:

Lord, in my self, nothing but filth I see,

But thou art good, and of that good art free:

O give me faith to look through all on him,

Whose blood can onely purge his filth of sin.

In his blest name with winged hast I flie,

O help me Lord, I perish else and die:

Here, here my soul, cast anchor here, make stay,

O let not filthy sin tice thee away:

Before his face cast down all self and sin,

That doleful cry take up, Help, help O King:

Look, ’Tis thy image Lord, though ‘Tis defac’d,

And sooted sore with sin, and lost the grace

It first received, yet know it Lord, ’Twas thine;

Look on’t through Christ, his beauty Lord, is mine:

His fac’ed oyl can cleanse sins filthy rust,

And make it fair, O Lord, as ’Twas at first:

Through his sad vail, give me faith to decry,

The priviledge I have by him on high.

Draw near, my soul, behold, and thou mayst see

The Law fulfill’d, Justice on him for thee:

What sin was rated as he freely paid,

Full satisfaction to thy God he made.

A cursed death this Lamb of God did die,

To free his own from hellish misery:

The price being paid, from Prison he was free;

Himself was justified, and also thee:

Sins Bills were cancel’d, and from that hour bares date,

No rears he left, he paid the highest rate,

Gods justice pleas’d, he for his favor won,

And this was her by my dear Savior done;

His foes being conquer’d, he refresh’d his own,

Triumphing he ascended to his Throne;

For he must hence, if he on earth should stay

The comforter can’t come; he’l haste away,

Places prepare, where none shall his disquiet,

Continual praise is their perpetual diet,

Where he lives ever to intercede. And know,

He steers the course of all things here below:

For he will make al work for good to those

That from the world unto himself he chose:

Then O my God, what ere my wants may be,

Grant I may ne’r distrust thy Majesty,

Through which we do thy gracious bounty grieve,

And often want the help should us relieve:

O give me faith, no doubting thoughts to think,

Till Peter doubted, he ’gan not, Lord, to sink:

O let former mercies move me on thee to lie,

Who at such a time my want pleas’d to supply:

I’le not forget how he came in, and where

He graciously pleas’d my complaints to hear:

When I consider, are hungry ravens fed

When Lord, they cry, and shall no crums be shed,

My God, to me? The withering lilies be

Most richly deckt, is there no robes for me

In thy rich Wardrobe? shall Sparrows that do flie

Be thought upon, O Lord, and shall not I?

Oh no, I am sure, when I such wants do finde,

If I but search, I want a faithful minde:

Can such a King, such boundless Majesty,

His left-hand blessing to his own deny?

If ask’d in faith, and for their good it be,

Both right, and left, and all he will give free.

O give me faith, O Lord, to thee I call,

To hold a Christ, and then I shall have all:

(And if that faith be true, ’Twill flourish here

In a righteous life, that I may thine appear;

For though it merits not, yet Lord, I see

True faith will take it in its way to thee)

Then I believe whatere despair may think,

Though these Seas roar, I shall not in them sink:

Nor care I, Lord, what here my tempest be,

So through my wants I can but wade to thee.

O let my scorching Summer ripen me,

Ere Autumn comes, I gathered be to thee;

Where Summers heat, nor Winters frost hath part,

In that same place, all’s perfect as thou art:

And if thou shalt command a longer stay,

Let thy blest Spirit direct me in thy way,

And when this race is run, O grant I be,

If crost on earth, yet crown’d in bliss with thee.

Elisabeth Major

Annagram:

O I am a blest Heir.

What? an Heir and blest, my soul! what (honor’s here

(To a poor subject! Draw near my soul, draw near)

With Songs of Praise, let low born thoughts expire,

Let love-inflamed zeal break out as fire

Into the praises of the King of Kings,

Soar thou above these low inferior things:

Try how the wings of faith will rise above

The towering Eagle, or the mounting Dove:

What? an Heir and blest! Doth not this eccho ring,

Shall I do ill, and Heir to such a King?

O no, assist me, Lord, then shall I flie

Sins soiled ways, and to my self shall die;

But live to thee, in whom I’m Heir and blest,

Till thou transport me to thy eternal rest.

Deaths Progress: or Death with his Commission.

In that catalogue of times descry,

A time for birth, also a time to die;

But finde no time to live, which may us teach,

Uncertainty no certain time can reach:

Death’s suddain presence, and his sabled brow,

Doth summon all even to be ready now;

For do but listen, some passing bell doth toll,

And sadly too, for some departed soul.

Perhaps some wife’s a widow, children orphans be,

And this sad sound proclaims the same to thee:

Perchance another’s posting in that way,

And hasty death denys it here to stay

His dearest friends to see; his doom he’l give,

Behold, I am come, thou must no longer live:

Perhaps he takes one midst abused wealth,

Whose covetous heart he hath depriv’d of health,

And them will part: But stay grim death, let’s see

If a large bribe won’t gain some time of thee;

See, here is store, come lade thee with thick clay,

Take what thou wilt, so longer I may stay:

I’le sooner part from all then life, I know

No other Heaven then what I have below:

This golden clement my heart hath won,

of hence thou tak’st me, alas I am undone.

Death. Was death ere brib’d, did ever mortal see

Death sent to fell, and yet did spare the tree?

When once commission from the most High is come,

How do I post till his command is done?

No glistering bribe upon me ever wrought,

Nor is my black bark with such light wares frought:

O no, to wound and kill, believ’t, I am come,

And I’le not leave thee till within thy tomb;

Therefore prepare, I shoot, my black darts flie,

They’l surely wound, the wounded surely die.

Then to another doth he take his flight,

Belshazzar like carousing, yet at his fight

He trembling sues for time, but none can have,

As he is found, he’s hurried to the grave.

The hastes he out to fetch another in,

Whom he findes lapt within a bed of sin;

Him doth he hale, and though his panting brest

Doth plead for time, intombs him with the rest.

Then up he gets, and posts more prey to finde,

Arresting one swell’d with a lofty minde;

Whose heart’s brim full with pride, ready to burst;

Whom he limites down, lays level with the dust,

Then doth he course about, to search I say,

Where he may finde another bird of prey,

Which he soon spies, one smear’d with envy, who

Takes a content the upright to undoe;

And him he limites, drags to the prison, where

His carcass lies till summon’d to appear.

Then up he mounts his pale horse, out he flies,

And romes about till the next prey he spies;

Where one he findes in unjust ways to trace,

And him he shoots, leaves dead upon the place.

Then out he slings, to search again he’l haste

To execute, no moment will he waste:

And one he spies, acting a Tyrants part,

And mortally he stabs him at the heart.

Then up he gets, ranges about for more,

And with revenge raps at the murtherers door;

At whose grim sight he startles, crys out, He’s come,

O mountains fall, and hide me from his doom,

Death. O no, thou must to thy dark harbor, where

From the just judge thou shalt thy sentence hear.

Then forth he hies, no rest he’l take, but pry

And seek about where the next prey may lie:

In every corner he the Blasphemer findes

Ripe for the fickle, down he cuts and bindes;

Then casts into the pit, whose dust the ground

Here must retain, till the great trump shall found,

Then up he gets, posting about each way,

Where one he spies prophaning the Lords day:

Him he claps up, for an account must be

Giv’n to the Lord of Sabbath. Then out he slings he

To range again, hoping more prey to finde,

And lights of one darkned with a sad minde

Whose heart sends springs of tears, alass there’s store,

And all the thoughts he thinks are sadded ore:

Comfort obscures it self, all things condole,

In dying colours sits this mourning soul,

Looks on the left hand, gazes on the right,

Behinde, before, and then his wearied sight

Falls to the earth, then mounts unto the skies,

Then down again, but yet no comfort spies:

Then fits resolv’d the worst of storms to face,

Yet sinks again, ’cause not upheld by grace;

Flies to this friend for counsel, then thinks to take

Another course, and all past-ways forsake:

Thus fluttering up and down, no rest can finde,

Because the heart is not by faith refin’d:

No footing can his sandy earth afford,

He clings to all, except unto the Lord;

Therefore he’s naked, left unto the spight

O’th raging tempter, who in a death-like night

Detains him there until death comes to smite;

For in this sad estate, these darkned ways,

Appears grim death, puts period to his days.

Then hastes he out to do the work he’s sent,

And seizes on seated amidst content;

Whom earth doth favor, and all her pleasing race,

For all her looks are smilings in the face:

Old friends grow strong, the new daily increase,

And all earth breaths is pleasure, profit, peace;

Friends wisely kinde, children obedient are,

And servants that obey with love, with care;

they have earths treasures, and her chiefest goods,

For still she’s crowning them here with rose-buds:

All’s pleasing gales that blows upon them here,

And nothing that earth has, for them’s too dear;

Yet these contents cannot prevail ’gainst him,

Who’l finde a crevice still to enter in

And them to seize, though all these friends stand by

Him to resist, yet wounds he mortally:

Then post they out for help, all means is sought,

And to advise the learn’d Physicians brought:

O doctor speak, is there no drugs that can

Give ease or cure? Is vain all help of man?

Can your long study finde out no compound

May do me good? is nothing to be found;

Search I beseech you, O I fear, I fear

The thing is losing that I hold so dear:

Where’s life, their’s hope they say. Doct. Indeed ’tis true

But to deal plainly, I have no hopes of you;

The vital spirits do fail, alas I see

There is no way, no way but death for thee:

O is it true, hath death seized my heart,

And must contents on earth, and I now part?

Shall he be Conqueror then? What? must I yield

And is his way by death to win the field?

Will nothing serve to please his withered face,

But that he’l murther me upon the place?

Then farewell all, come do thy worst, I see

There’s none on earth but must submit to thee.

Then comes grim death, who takes the breath away,

And then remains onely a lump of clay.

Then to the godly doth he take his flight,

Who is perchance, first startled at his sight;

But when faith pleads, their father for them sent,

They’l in obedience to his will offend;

For in his wisdom, at board they must remain;

And in his mercy, he’l take them home again:

And while here prosperity is often cool’d,

The heart it raises higher then it sould:

He’l make his know, all here’s but transitory,

In him alone is the eternal glory.

If heavy grief should break their troubled sleep.

Their heads will above the waters keep;

No cloud so black, nor joy but’s mixt with fear,

And will soon vanish, if a beam appear

O’ th’ glorious Son; alas they vanish all,

They must be gone, if he but say they shall:

For his must know, they trace but in the way

That he has gone, that in his time they may

Finde rest with him; for when their glass is out,

He’l send his messenger to search about

And bring in his, who meets death in the way,

And cries, I am ready, I onely for thee stay:

Shew thy Commission death, I have run my race,

Pluck off thy vizzard, now let’s see thy face:

Thou like a Lyon once appear’dst to me,

But now me-thinks thy looks much milder be:

My way is sweetned since my Lord did go

In thy sad road: Come death, why lingerest so?

Come do thy office, unlock my passage here,

Transport my soul unto my Father dear:

My body but the Bark, and rest must have,

Therefore intomb’t within it’s dusty grave,

Where till the trumpet blow it must remain;

Then to my soul united be again.

Then wait his next command, see what ’Twill be,

For now, sad death, thou’st done thy work on me.

And now my soul, thou seest none can withstand,

The mortal stroke of deaths most fatal hand:

Youth is no priviledge, no riches may

Gain time of him, no air so pure, I say,

But he will taint; no antidote is found

Can save or cure those he’s sent to wound;

No sweet perswasion can slack his killing shower

For his command comes from a higher power:

Some found and healthy bodies mark he will,

To have a place within the next weeks Bill:

Thousands do fall within the year we see,

And yet thy Lord is pleas’d to pass by thee:

O sure, my soul, it is to shew thee how

To prize thy time, and to be ready now.

Soul. O ’Tis confest, the mercies great that I

Injoy by life, when some are call’d to die:

My humble suit is, Lord, to purge this age,

That I may mend, even in this latter stage,

That whether I post, or go a softly pace,

I may in thee finish my weary race:

Each sickness, Lord, as messengers were sent,

To summon me, and death to represent:

But I a grumbling entertainment gave,

And being gone, my sinful will would have:

Thus I confess, I did my mercies wrong,

To slight the message, the bringer being gone:

But Lord, thy saving grace on me bestow,

And then no more I shall offend thee. No,

Thy service then, o Lord, a joy shall be,

And I no pleasure take, but Lord, in thee;

Then shall I live on earth the life of thine,

And all their hopes in thee, Lord, shall be mine:

Death to me then no stranger shall appear,

His faded look is valid with mercy dear;

His ways are paved with a Saviors love,

Who sweetens sorrow with hopes of joy above:

Then fly false fear, for death I see’s my friend

To ease my grief, brings joys that never end:

Lord, here refine my heart, free’t from that care

Of outward things, that fall not to my share;

My race being run, my time expir’d, that I

May have no work, but to be sick and die:

That when I cease to trade with earthly things,

I may finde shelter under thy princely wings:

O Savior hear my suit, grant my request,

And bring my soul to thy eternal rest.

A particular Application of the Book of Jonah.

In this same Prophesie, me-thinks, I see

Gods nature, and my own held forth to me;

He in his Throne of mercy, I in sin;

He still forbearing, I still provoking him

By disobedience, wherewith I him offend,

Am in that way resolved, unless he send

A rod me to prevent, then for a time

I may observe his will; but if they minde

He’s pleased to cross, I’le grumble, fret, nay cry,

And in that passion wish of him to die:

My nature’s grown so bold, that I with him

Dare expostulate, nay plead it is no sin

To wish not to be, rather then to lie

Under his rod; no, sooner let me die;

If he in mercy me my errors tell,

My answer is, I know that I do well;

I sin and grieve thee, still thou wilt be kind,

Wilt mercy shew, though oft against my minde:

I will not reason here, alas for I

Do Nineveh out sin, for which I die,

If mercy don’t prevent eternally:

How like a froward childe (me-thinks) am I,

Though cross’d for good, yet how I’le fret and cry;

And in that fit (childe-like) cast all away,

For cross my will, and I on thine wont stay,

Nor yet consider, Lord, from whence it came,

Nor wherefore thou wert pleas’d to send the same,

The stone I bite, the hand I do not mind:

And at thy will full oft I have repined:

If thou send lameness, health, or fight, or all

Affords content, though hourly mercies fall,

Yet still I grutch and pine, for that I say,

In wisdom thou art pleas’d to take away:

When Lord, I should, because it was thy will,

Humbly submit, with what thou dost, be still:

But O the gift of a submitting spirit

Is from thy self, by nature we inherit

Nothing that’s good: though Paul’s content we see

In all estates, yet Lord it was through thee:

O order then my changes, that a good day

Make me not to presume nor yet delay

Hasting to thee; nor let a bad day cast

Me in dispair, but to thy mercies haste.

O keep my heart, or else I see, I see

’Twill quickly sink, through all distrust in thee:

Take, Lord this drossy heart, and it refine

Like purest gold, make it through thee to shine,

And then, O Lord, the scorching flames shall be

Like beds of Roses, if sweetned, Lord, by thee:

The hungry meals shall be a curious feast,

If thou, O Lord, wilt be my chiefest guest,

With poor apparel I’le contented be,

If Lord, it be but fitted on by thee:

All states and times, to me content shall bring,

If thou by faith but raise my heart to him

From whence it flows, from whom alon’t must come,

All true content, I say, is in thy Son:

For in thy angry look, through him I spy

Such beams of mercy glancing from thine eye,

That there I cast into the sea with him,

My hope is such, I shall to shore again

Thy Name to praise, and of thy mercies tell,

Bestow’d on me that do so oft rebel.

For thou, Lord, our infirmities hast bore,

And with our sorrows hast been laden sore;

Sufficient art compassion here to pour

Upon a soul who grieves, yet sins each hour:

To thee I haste, from all that’s earth I flie,

I beg true faith on thee always to lie;

All here is vain, like vapors ’Twill away,

Here’s nought but Christ, on which the soul can stay:

Content and peace are onely in thy brest,

Stretch forth thy hand, and take me to thy rest

In thy good time; for all is earth I see,

While here I stay, Lord, fix my heart on thee.

On the Authors Name.

E ternal God, open my blinded eyes,

L ighten my sadded heart that in me lies:

I ncrease thy grace in me, indear my heart,

S avior, to thee, by faith to have a part

A bove with thee in glory, there to shine,

B eloved with that lasting love of thine:

E vil is my life, I walk in earthen ways,

T each me thy path, in it to spend my days;

H ear me in him on whom hopes Anchor stays.

M ercy, O Savior, teach me to ask aright,

A nd then for comfort, ’Tis thy chief delight:

[I] beg and faint, I fear and hope again,

[O] Lord, I see all self, and earth is vain,

[R] enouncing all, on thee Lord, I remain.

FINIS.