¶ The voyce of GOD vnto his Churche.
WRapped in wofull wise,
with dolefull dolours depe:
In sobbing sighes & trillyng teares
halfe wakyng halfe a slepe.
Methought I heard the voice,
of God whiche thus did saie:
Vnto his pastors of this churche,
Awake it is clere daie.
You maie not slumber now,
nor walke as in the night:
Ye must doe the worke of the daie,
whiche now shines faire and bright.
(Why) haue ye hardned hartes,
let them be molified:
Why will you wafte and wauer stilt,
stande fast and doe not slide.
Beware thou wauer not,
and wafte with euery winde:
Steppe forward still and stagger not,
be not ledde by the blinde.
If thou haue stepte a wrie,
to starte backe is no shame:
If in the plaine pathe thou didest walke,
walke forthe right in the same.
Let not the worldly pompe,
be vnto you a yoke:
Clense all your groundes and suffer not,
the thornes my wheate to choke,
(Fabius Maximus,
that valiaunt wise capitaine:
Whose noble actes, the Romaines olde,
in greate renoume retaine,
Beyng offered the Croune,
refusyng (it) he saied,
Moche more honour then happinesse,
vnto the croune is teide,
He saied) who knewe the charge,
and eke the cares moste greate,
Would not vouchesafe to take it vp,
findyng it in the streate.
Muche lesse honour to holde,
whereby he should stande bounde:
Not (onely) his owne conscience,
but others to confounde.
My Prophetes all are suche,
as will in no wise like:
That ye should wander in by waies,
as one that weare to seke.
When ye did first professe,
to fauour myne estate:
[Page] you vowed then with feruent harte,
my lawes to celebrate.
And when your wanton toyes,
wherein you tooke solace:
Had caused me to cast you of,
and tourne from you my face.
When for your iuste desertes,
I semed to set you light:
Suffryng your fooes, to spread the fieldes,
with banners of despight.
And when your Godlie guides,
for your dealynges vniuste:
Were troden doune defaced eke:
and some consumed to duste.
Then could you call and crie.
then could you make greate mone:
Then if I would become your frende,
you would (serue) me alone.
Then all adulterous waies,
ye would detest and hate:
Promesse you made (not to pollute)
my house in any rate.
You saied you would be seen,
in no wanton attire:
But that you would reformed be,
as I should best require.
But all to sone I see,
you haue forgotte this geare:
You are become wilde Calues againe,
you are not as ye weare.
If for obedience,
you seme to tourne that waie:
And are content to please mennes mindes,
and my will disobeye.
In this you haue doen ill,
thus to famishe my flocke:
To feede those bealie Gods that of,
you make a laughyng stocke,
I would that you should not,
offende my little ones:
Nor dandlyng thus your dissemblers,
dashe myne against the stones.
(Oh) why doe ye deuise,
to make my waies more darcke:
And force my flocke to slippe backwarde,
when thei would hit the marke.
My little cilie Lambes,
whom ye should feede and cherishe:
By bryngyng in this geare againe,
thei are now like to perishe.
What your conscience will doe,
that thei doe moste abhorre:
[Page] And ye condempne my true preachers,
as though thei ran to farre.
Whereby you doe aduouche,
the Papistes whiche doe saie:
Some runne to slowe, and some to swift,
in them there is no staie.
But walke ye forwarde still,
and I will them perswade:
Thei can not winne the garlande so,
excepte thei deeper wade.
Suche are ne whot ne colde,
like them thei would you weare:
But of their filthie cuppe drincke not,
it is to bitter geare.
Thou shalt commit no ill,
that good maie happe thereby:
And yet thou art become so blinde,
thou seest not thy folly.
But tourne to me thine eare,
and listen to my lore:
No newe founde toye I will thee tell,
but that hath been before.
Some little ones I haue,
that so farre for the are growne:
That suffer will moste greuous paines,
to haue myne honour knowne.
Your waies are not my waies,
your thoughtes are not like myne:
Not you but I worke my one workes,
yet not as you define.
In some despised ones,
my honour for the I spredde:
For thei are of my chosen churche,
whereof I am the bedde.
Not all the worldly wise,
but some suche as appere:
Moste simple to the wicked worlde,
those are my children deare.
You muste talke francklie now,
it is no tyme to flatter:
We maie not here looke for greate sheanes.
but rake in those that scatter.
The haruest is nere doen,
but yet the stubble is stoute:
Wherein lieth hid many good eares,
whiche ye must now glein out.
You must dispatche in hast,
that all were in my Barne:
Haruess is doen, Winter drawes nere,
saie that I you doe warne.
Myne Angell crieth out,
vnto the Haruest manne:
[Page] Thrust in thy Title on the yearth,
prepare the Flaile and Fan [...]e▪
For now throughout the yearth,
their graine is ripe out right:
The floure must forthewith be clensed.
and all chaffe blowen out quite.
Spurne not against the pricke,
my worke finishe I will:
The dotyng age of this old worlde,
would lye and loyter still.
It is no tyme to gape▪
or gase for pollecie [...] ▪
For what I haue determined▪
that shalbe doen quicklie,
Wherefore my Haruest men,
set to your Sithes with speede:
For those that I finde loyteryng now,
I will cast out as weede.
Thinke not your swift cuttyng,
shall cause one graine to fall:
For I haue counted euery eare,
not one corne perishe shall.
You maie sette forthe your selues,
and seme to further me:
Trusting your wisedomes more then mine
but so it would not be.
You might doe your good willes,
and trust me with the rest:
You might doe what I you commaunde,
and not what you thinke best.
As tymes there are to speake,
and tymes to be silent:
In season and out of season,
in my workes be feruent.
What good seruaunt thinke ye,
in this case could be slacke:
That for one foote forewardes would now,
seme to steppe twoo foote back [...].
Not talkers but walkers,
in my haruest are meete:
Not respecters but directers,
of my rites are moste feete.
Not daundlers but handlers,
of my worde without cloke:
Not suche as feare, but as will beare,
my ioyfull crosse and yoke.
Now note what ye haue seen,
in my steppes and that doe:
But doe not seme to helpe my workes,
by addyng yours thereto.
For what haue I to doe,
with you, or your aduice;
[Page] In their due tymes I doe all thynges,
to purpose moste propice.
I knowe there is no prince,
that takes my worde in hande:
But will heare you and be content,
to haue the truthe well stande.
But to the mercifull,
if you feare truthe to tell:
What would you then to tyrauntes doe,
that are bothe fearce and fell.
When Daniell in denne,
laye destitute of aide:
How came Abacucke into hym,
how were the Lions staied.
For Ionas in the sea,
who did prouide the Whale:
And preachyng vnto Niniue,
who did preferre his tale.
What hope had Abraham:
when he did imolate:
At my request his sonne Isaac,
how stoode then his estate.
And what was Iacobs hope,
seruyng his sier Laban:
You knowe well how his cace did stande,
and how I holpe hym than.
Of Ioseph in Egipte,
and of his father olde▪
What I wrought for them in that lande▪
long tales might here be tolde▪
The Papistes looke to haue,
miracles at your hande▪
What miracles might you haue wrought
in this realme of Englande.
The Lions mo [...]thes you might,
haue staied and stopped fast▪
The blinde and lame restored to [...],
and made your foes agast.
Why did you not as I,
example did shewe here:
What Paule receiued, that he gaue,
his plainesse d [...] app [...]re.
But now you knowe my minde.
let this faulte be amended:
And scorne not at this short warnyng.
for ye haue sore offended.
I knowe all fleshe is fraile,
and verie prone to fall:
To starte backe when you step [...]misse,
it is no shame at all.
I se how loth you were,
to doe that you haue doen:
[Page] And eke how sore you doe lament,
that euer it begonne.
Be not slacke to confesse,
nor slowe to tourne again.
Since you doe knowe my will, doe it:
let me not preache in vaine.
As ended were these wordes:
me thooght the planettes seuen,
Did lese their light and streames of blood,
tell forthwith doune from heauen.
Whereby the yearth enfecte,
greuous plagues did ensue:
What I haue heard and seen ye knowe,
Gods peace be now with you.
I tell you what I heard,
and eke what I haue seen:
The Angelles of almightie God,
defende our noble Quene.
Whose mightie maiestie,
preserue her grace from smarte.
And powre his spirite plentifully,
into her noble harte.
He graunt her his good will,
that she as willyngly:
Maie hym embrace, and bend [...] her harte,
to banishe all Poperie.
The euer (beyng) God,
graunt this as I haue praied:
Amen, Amen of eche good harte,
so be it now be saied.
FINIS.