A true DESCRIPTION of our Sauiours PASSION.
WRapt in our sinfull flesh, yet free from sinne,
The louing-worlds Redeemer lōg had sought,
Vnto himselfe the stubborne Iewes to winne,
With mighty signes & wonders daily wrought:
But wished fruit his zeale could neuer gaine:
He plowd the sands, and reapt but losse of paine.
And when he had full thirty three yeeres space,
For men, and with men dwelt on earth below,
Lending rich treasures of his heauenly grace,
To pay those countlesse debts that Sinne did owe.
The time was come, that should our God restore
To heauen aboue, from whence he came before.
Whose passage must by Death prepared be,
(As erst the holy Prophets had foretold)
That so his death from death might set vs free,
Whom sinne from life, as slaues to death had sold.
So deadly was the diuellish Serpents sting,
That nought but Gods death, life to man could bring.
Which to assure vs, ere he parted hence,
He leaues behind for our immortall good,
A full release of Adams first offence,
Scaling the Charter with his dearest blood:
That man might see his loue, and learne thereby,
To loath the sinne that made a God to die.
Yet neuer could the powerfull stroke of death,
Nor Fate, nor Chance, nor Satans secret blow,
Nor humane force enforce him yeeld his breath,
Vntill his Will gaue leaue it should be so:
The Iewes might rage, yet heauen had fore decreed,
He chose to die, though they did act the deed.
But lest the sudden storme, if vnforetold,
Should drowne the seeds of Faith so lately sowne,
Or make new kindled loue of him grow cold,
In weak conceits not to perfection growne:
He shewes them euery thing must come to passe,
That of him in the Scripture written was.
And knowing that the houre approched now,
To his small number of Disciples, he
Plamely foretels his death▪ and manner how:
Withall, the time when as his death should be,
To strength their doubtfull thoughts, & make thé know,
He could foresee, though would not shun the blow.
Two dayes there are (saith he) and then the Feast
Of Easter comes, when Moses did command,
In memory that Israel was releast
From hard oppression of proud Egypt land,
The Paschall lambe should yeerely eaten be,
Of all their seed, whom God had Io set free.
But now the old Lawes end approcheth nie,
These shadowing Figures shortly must away:
The Sonne of man shall be betraid to die,
And on the Crosse the worlds great ransome pay,
To free it from infernall Charons power,
Whose tyrant rage would life and soule deuoure.
Thus hauing warn'd, whilst at Bethania he,
Receiu'd in Simons house, doth there remaine,
A woman by him late from sinne set free,
Doth come her louing Lord to entertaine;
Bringing a boxe of Alabaster faire,
Fill'd with an oyntment, costly, sweet, and rare,
O Loue! sole life of Peace, and death of Strife:
Strong knot to tye: sweet vnion of consent:
Thoughts purity: faire Mappe of Angels life:
Heauens new-made Liuery: Nurce of all content:
How true it is the world of thee doth say?
That whoso loues, can brooke no long delay.
The curious Boxe she breaks, and quickly powres
This precious liquor on her Sauiours head;
Whose sweet distilling drops full mainly showres
Adowne his necke, and on his garments shed,
Refining all the ayre neere which they fell,
With fragrant odour of their pleasing smell.
But enuious Malice soone occasion finds,
This womans godly meaning to reproue:
Some standers by do murmure in their minds,
As discontent to see such zealous loue.
His owne Disciples too that sate at bord,
Do grudge such cost bestowd vpon their Lord.
Why need this needlesse waste be made (say they)
Of what was worth three hundred pence at least?
It better had bin sold, and giuen away
To poore for almes, against this holy Feast:
'Tis pitie such sweet oyle so dearely bought,
With idle vaine expence should come to nought.
Thus they: But Christ that sought to saue his foes,
Forgets not now to helpe a friend at need:
He soone perceiues the grudging thoughts of those,
That were mislikers of this womans deed,
And mildly doth rebuke them for their sinne,
With praise of her that did the worke begin.
O why should you, whom I haue chose for mine,
Against your louing Lord offended be?
Why should your murmuring hearts with spite repine
At her, whose faith wrought this good worke on me?
Take heed, this lesson first was learnt at Hell,
To grudge at grace, and enuie doing well.
The poore may be relieued when you will,
No want of them the earth doth euer find:
But me you shall not haue amongst you still:
The work's now done that heauen had erst assign'd,
And she that knew I shortly hence must go,
Against my buriall did this cost bestow.
Of truth therefore I say, in each place where
The worlds Redemption shalbe preacht or taught,
This womans zeale shall be related there,
In memory of what she now hath wrought.
Great loue shall surely reape a great reward:
Heauen do's the hart, not outward shews regard.
By this, the Priests and Scribes, whose hearts were set
A fire with burning spite, and deadly hate,
At Caiaphas palace are together met,
In councell closely to deliberate,
How they might Iesus take by subtill traine,
And with some shew of Iustice haue him slaine.
Yet must we not (say they) in any wise,
At this great Feast, in such a course proceed,
Left the rude people should against vs rise,
Or stir rebellion to withstand the deed:
His words, his workes, and doctrine haue bin such,
That him as now we cannot safely touch.
But Sathan fearing, lest by this delay,
His long-desired worke should rest vnwrought,
Presents them with an vnexpected way,
Wherby their mischiefe might to passe be brought,
Iudas one of the Twelue, whom Christ had chose,
(Vnhappy wretch) to this assembly goes.
There doth the Traitour set his Lord to sale,
Mongst those he knew long sought to sucke his blood:
Whose precious worth this caitiffe counts so small,
He bids them make the price as they thought good:
What will you giue me, (thus doth Iudas say)
And I into your hands will him betray?
O blessed Lady! hadst thou present beene,
When thus thy Sonne by theeuish hands was sold
To bloody Merchants, it had soone beene seene,
How deare true owners wel-got pearles do hold:
Thy tender loue had pitcht the price so hie,
That Iewish wealth one haire should neuer buy.
But thou true picture of pure piety,
Resignst to heauens decree thy proper right,
Suffering a damned wretch contemptuously,
To make a market of thy dearst delight:
Then hie thee, hie thee, since the case so stands,
Come buy thine own frō these Priests murthring hands.
And Iudas, O if greedy hope of gaine
Entice thee thus thy Sauiour to forgo,
Why dost thou shew thy selfe so fondly vaine,
As offer him to those that hate him so?
His friends (I wis) would giue more mony for him,
Then scornfull foes, whose pride and spite abhor him.
O what would Lazarus, new brought to liue
From graue, haue payd to keep his Lord from death?
What price would Magdalen refuse to giue,
That lou'd her Master dearer then her breath?
Or Martha, and his Virgin-mother too,
That lou'd him more then all the world can do
Yea leaue the earth, and aske of Angels bright,
What they would giue thee for their King diuine?
(Doubtlesse to get him home) their chiefe delight,
They would exchange their heauenly state for thine:
O hadst thou thus made sale of Christ before,
Thy guilt had beene the lesse, and gaine the more.
But Sin with self conceit it selfe still blinds,
Daring, without respect of what it may:
Witnesse false Iudas, who with desperate mind,
Tels proudly to the Priests, he will betray:
As if the Maker of heauen, earth, and seas,
Were in his power to vse him as he please.
They glad with others blame t'effect the deed;
Whereto their proper malice would aspire,
Resolue to prosecute it now with speed,
And thirty pence appoint him for his hire.
He straight accepts the wages they assign'd:
Slight gaine soone sets to work a willing mind.
Ah Iudas, sinke of sinne, and earthly shame,
First lucklesse lambe that straid from Christs deare fold,
Monster of mankind, vile reproach of fame;
Sequestred from all grace, most impious bold:
Blind reprobate (alas) what hast thou done,
To buy hel fire with sale of Gods deere Sonne?
O did thy wretched eyes so grieue to see,
Three hundred peniworth of oyle bestowd,
Whose costly value should aduantag'd thee,
If thy false hand had sold the same abroad:
That now to make amends for such shrewd losse,
Thou must betray thy Sauiour to the Crosse.
Did this bad crop spring vp from heauenly seed?
Did Christs example such vile thrift maintaine?
Ah no, he taught thee by his Word and Deed,
T'abhorre the muddie mind of worldly gaine,
T'embrace pure thoughts, whose safety feares no fall,
To hurt no man, and to do good to all.
But thou (vnchang'd) a gracelesse Impe of hell,
With Iacobs spitefull sonnes, in sin art growne;
Whose malice did their brother Ioseph sell
For twenty pence, to Merchant-men vnknowne:
Yet Ioseph was preferd to honour hie,
And call'd the Sauiour of the world thereby.
So Christ thy Lord, by thee sold to be slaine,
Though death and hell striue both to presse him downe,
Shall Phoenix-like with glory rise againe,
And win by death an euerlasting Crowne:
That in his Name, eterniz'd without end,
All knees in heauen, in earth, in hell may bend.
The Feast of sweet bread now was hard at hand,
And spotlesse pascall lambes were markt to die:
When Christs Disciples came to vnderstand
Their Masters will in this Solemnitie:
Where wilt thou (say they) we prepare for thee
The Passeouer, that now must eaten be?
Straight blessed Peter readiest to obay,
And Iohn, whom Iesus alwaies held most deare,
Are called for, and sent without delay,
To make prouision for this heauenly cheare:
Receiuing by their Lords directing care,
A signe that shewd them where they should prepare.
You two (saith Christ) shall now this taske begin
At yonder towne, where you shall surely meet
A man, assoone as you are entred in,
Bearing a pot of water through the street;
Him follow, wheresoeuer he doth go,
What house he enters, enter you also.
Aske of the owner for some place, where I,
With my Disciples, may this Supper eate;
And he (I know) will shew you by and by,
A parler roome, well paued, faire and great,
Which will be fit: make ready there for me,
For there shall this last Supper eaten be.
O happy Feast held by a heauenly King,
Where bread of life with bounty was bestowd:
No more a Type, but now a figured thing,
True Rocke, whence pure sin-cleansing waters flowd:
Sweet antidote, whose vertue sets man free,
From deadly surfet of forbidden tree.
When thou wert made, each ceremonious Rite,
[...]hat had prefigur'd better things to come,
[...]y Gods appointment was abolisht quite;
[...]ew Sacraments succeeding in their roome:
Whose worth in Christ who worthily embrace,
Adopted are new heires of heauenly grace.
Cleare light was then in place of shadowes brought:
[...]igures for better Truth exchang'd away:
[...]he ioyfull Gospel for the Law was taught;
[...]nd Mercy crownd, where Iustice earst bare sway:
New Life was borne, and Death began to die,
In this great Suppers heauenly mysterie.
[...]here did the King of Glory thinke no scorne,
Leauing behind a patterne for vs meet)
[...]ith girded loynes addrest in seruile forme,
[...]o stoope and wash his owne Disciples feet:
That those which after should the Gospel preach,
Might by himselfe be cleans'd, ere they did teach.
[...]t this is not yet all that then was done:
[...]or the new-spoused Church redeemd so deere,
[...]he precious Body of Gods only Sonne,
[...]as instituted to be eaten heere:
That blessed Body borne for sinners good,
True Manna, farre exceeding Angels food.
Such wisedome did th'Almighty workman show,
In altering shadowes into substance true:
Such humble seruice did a God bestow,
Pure humbled thoughts in proud man to renue:
Such precious cates were by our dying Lord,
Bequeath'd for euer to this heauenly boord.
The bright Sunne now with Westerne clouds was hid:
Dim darknesse on the errth began to grow;
Nor day, nor night it was, when Iesus did
With his Disciples to this Supper go.
And as they ate, he spake: Of truth I say,
That one amongst you here shall me betray:
They straight with dead pale lookes bewray their feare,
And gaze together, doubtfull to suspect:
As mazed persons wonted are, that heare
A sudden presage of some dire effect:
And willing there their innocence to trie,
Each after other said: Lord, is it I?
Iudas that felt himselfe neere toucht herein,
Wondring to heare his guilt so soone made knowne;
And fearing, silence might disclose the sinne:
(For Craft and Treason still are linkt in one)
Askt last of all, faining himselfe dismaid,
Lord, is it I? Christ answered, Thou hast said.
But wo be vnto him that makes this match;
Selling the Sonne of man to sinners spite:
Farre better had it bin for that vile wretch,
[...]f he, vnborne, had neuer seene the light.
O ten times happy life, that liueth well!
But curst is he that liues, to liue in hell.
These threats in Iudas could breed no remorce,
That blacke detested action to abiure.
Obdurat harts, though warn'd, yet stil wax worse:
Like rotten vlcers mastring Physickes cure.
So hard it is, except Gods grace be strong,
To saue that soule where sin hath harbord lōg.
Peter, whose daunted thoughts could take no rest,
Vntill the author of this ill were knowne,
Makes signes to Iohn, who lean'd on Iesus brest,
To aske his name, whose sin should cause their mone.
Resoluing boldly, if in him it lay,
To kill the wretch did plot his Lords decay.
But Peters purpose could not come to passe:
The hatefull traitor closely sits conceal'd:
In secret Iohn demandeth who it was,
And Christ in secret thus to him reueal'd:
Who next receiues a dipped sop of me,
Shall do the deed, the rest hereof are free.
O Iohn, dearst darling of thy dying Lord!
Earths flower, heauens starre, pure virgin, foe to lust:
What pen can worthily thy praise record,
Or blaze thy blessed name with titles iust,
That foundst such grace to aske and vnderstand,
When none of all thy fellowes durst demand?
Soone after in the dish Christ dips a sop,
And gaue it mildly to his murthering foe;
Who vnrelenting takes and eates it vp:
But straight the diuell entred in him tho;
Vrging his traiterous heart still more and more,
To execute what he had vowd before.
That which thou dost (saith Christ) with speed fulfill:
Not animating him to do the deed:
But shewing by these words, the great good will
He had, that mans saluation should proceed:
For which absented from his Fathers sight,
His loue thinkes long till it be finisht quite.
Whereto these words were spoke, none then did know,
Onely (perhaps) false Iudas vnderstood:
They thought Christ bade him buy, and to bestow
Some thing in almes, to do poore people good,
Or for the Feast prouide: thus Error too
Helpes forward what this Traitor meanes to do.
But see how apt mans frailty is to sinne,
When humbled thoughts with pride are ouerthrowne?
These late-amaz'd Disciples now begin,
(Forgetting quite Christs last example showne)
To reason hard in words, and disagree,
Who should among themselues the greatest be.
Ah fondlings! is your Master cumbred now
With humane error of his dying day?
Hath one amongst your selues conspired how,
By trecherie, to take his life away?
And can you, warnd hereof, mis-spend your time,
In idle folly of ambitious crime?
O plucke vp sinne whilst yet the root is young:
Surcease this variance, breeding but offence:
Weepe your owne losse, waile your Redeemers wrong,
And wish to die with him in innocence:
Rather then striue to be exalted hier,
As pamperd worldlings, in their pride, desire.
But Christ orecome with that exceeding loue,
Which from the world had chose them for his owne,
Surprest with griefe, forbearing to reproue
This folly, and defect of duty showne:
Yet to make knowne their faults, and strife appease,
He gently warnes them in like words to these:
Supremacie and honour is embrac't
Of profane Potentates, and earthly kings;
Not worthy those desires whose thoughts are plac't
On better loue of God, and heauenly things:
For such, though greatest, must inferiour be,
And minister to those of low degree.
The master who doth sit at meat alone,
Exceeds the seruant that attends his will:
Yet you to me this duty haue not showne,
For I do minister among you still:
And by humility example giue,
How such as are my followers ought to liue.
But you for my sake haue abandon'd cleane
The late-lou'd world, renounc't your selues and all,
And in my greatst temptations alwayes been,
Abiding with me since I did you call:
And therefore I appointed haue for ye,
As God my Father doth appoint for me:
I meane a Kingdome, not of earthly blisse,
Such as mortality aspires to get:
But one in heauen that perpetuall is;
Where, at my table you shall drinke and eate:
Where you shall sit on seates, as is decreed,
Iudging the twelue great Tribes of Israels seed.
So spake our Lord, when from the table rose
Iudas, full fraught with hel-nurc't desperate sinne,
And hastily out of the house he goes,
Leauing his Master and the rest within,
True type of heauenly blisse at latter day,
When no bad bides, nor good doth go away.
And now doth Christ in sweetest speech commend
His loue, and mutuall concord to the rest,
With promise, that he would from heauen send
Another Comforter to make them blest:
Whose presence should abide for euermore,
And teach them all the truth they heard before.
His peace likewise he doth among them leaue,
Exhorting perfect vnity in one,
A growing: branches from the Vine receiue
Their fruit, and beare not of themselues alone.
Forewarning too, that troubles, hate, and spite,
Should shortly for his Name vpon them light.
Which to indure, without grudge or despaire,
He cheares them vp by his examples still:
Concluding lastly with a feruent prayer,
That God would blesse and keepe them from all ill.
As that together they in one might grow,
As he himselfe was with the Father, so.
The night is now farre spent, the Supper done;
The Grace is said, the Table tooke away:
The Ghests are risen, and the worke begun,
For which the Sonne of God on earth did stay:
Iudas is comming with a kisse to greet him,
And with the Eleuen, Christ goes forth to meet him.
A place there is, where (raisd from lower ground)
A goodly fruitfull Mountaine threats the skie;
Whose top with Oliue branches shadowed round,
Forbids the heat of heauens bright burning Eye,
And ouerlookes a garden faire and sweet,
Close situated to Gethseman street.
Hither, as was his often former guise,
When he in priuate for his Church would pray,
Or did his owne Disciples catechise,
This last night our Redeemer tooke his way:
That so he in a Garden might restore,
What Adam in a Garden lost before.
And by the way thus warnes: All you this night
Shall run in scandall great because of me:
For it is written, I will surely smite
The Shepheard, and his sheepe shall scattered be:
But when I risen am from Death below,
To Galilee before you will I go.
Ah poore Disciples, weake and miserable,
Now is at hand the comfort-killing houre;
The houre of feare and darknesse palpable,
Whose foggie dampe shall in your hearts obscure
Bright beames of Faith, and yet lend light to see,
How fraile and feeble of your selues you be.
In one way now together all do go:
In diuers (shortly) all shall scattered slie▪
True faithfull followers now your selues you show,
As ready with your Lord to liue and die.
Yet danted with base feare, you shortly shall
Renounce your truth, your faith, your Lord & all.
Thus still fresh cause of sorrow Christ doth find,
His ouer-burdened sences to dismay:
Ere-while he troubled was, to thinke in mind,
That one of his owne Twelue should him betray:
And now not one alone, but all the rest,
Shall false their faith, & leaue their Lord distrest.
Alas, sweet Sauiour, who shall comfort now,
The dreadfull terror of this sad nights feare?
Thy Father threats the sword with angry brow,
Against thee, for our sins, which thou must beare.
Thy mother wails, thy friends shal all forsake thee,
Whilst death deuising foes conspire to take thee.
O might the merit of thy bitter paines,
Endur'd for all alike, alike redound
To all of Adams sonnes, whom death detaines,
Some consolation herein would be found:
But (O deare God!) thou knowst how few indeed,
For all these torments shall the better speed.
And to th'increasing of thy griefes, dost see
Millions of mis-beleeuing Soules mis-led
With sinnes sweet bait, or infidelitie,
Shall run into perdition void of dread:
Scorning thy Crosse and Passion suffred here,
Or valuing light what thou hast bought so deare.
But Peter hearing what his Master told,
And cleare in conscience from so blacke a sinne,
Presuming of his strength with courage bold,
To promise for himselfe, doth thus begin:
Though all the world offended were in thee,
Yet herewith spotted Peter would not be.
O Simon, Simon, (thus doth Christ reply)
The subtill Fiend your setled thoughts to quaile,
Hath sought to sift you all as wheat, but I
Haue prayd for thee, that thy faith might not faile.
Thou therefore once turn'd to the perfect way,
Confirme thy weaker brethren what thou may.
To whom th'Apostle, (growne more confident,)
Lord, I am ready with resolued heart,
Not onely to endure imprisonment,
Or in such slight affliction take thy part,
But with thee lose my life, if need require,
To shew my loue, and further thy desire.
The wakefull Cocke (saith Christ) twice shall not crow
This night, till thou hast three times me denide:
Yet Peter cannot be perswaded so,
But plights his faith most constant to abide:
At which, the rest, seeing his courage such,
By solemne vow, protest to do as much.
O what high taskes can rashnesse vndertake,
Ere difficulty of the worke be knowne?
What vaunts can ouer-weening humors make,
Which in an instant will he ouerthrowne?
Great oddes in what they'l do, and what they speake:
Their words are strong, their deeds will be but weake.
Boldly they boast themselues, resolu'd to slay,
And die with Christ in such a quarrell good:
Yet one small storme shall blow them all away,
And he for them must bide and shed his blood.
So feeble are th'attempts by man begun,
When heauenly grace is not relide vpon.
But Christ in mercy doth not sue the debt,
Which they by vow stand bound this night to pay:
Knowing their weake estates vnable yet,
He well is pleasd to grant a longer day;
When after his Ascension they shall,
In vnknowne shores be wider scattered all.
Then shall self-penance scourge the trothles blame
Of this nights worke, that now their worke defaces:
Then shall they boldly preach his healthfull Name;
Not recking danger, or the worlds disgraces:
Then shall they go to prisons ioyfully,
And for his Truths sake glorious Martyrs die.
By this, the Lambe of God, who for mans sinne,
With willing steps, went meeting to be slaine,
And made a Sacrifice: is entred in
The Garden with his yet-vnscattered traine;
To whom he sorrowing speakes, Here sit & stay,
Whilst I withdraw my selfe awhile to pray.
Then Peter, Iames, and Iohn he takes aside,
When straight with an exceeding feare opprest,
His stonisht sences could no longer hide
The griefe, that had surcharg'd his guiltlesse brest.
My soule is heauie to the death, saith he,
Abide you here, and watch awhile with me.
Accompany thy Sauiour, O my Soule,
In outward signes of inward griping wo:
Breake forth in sighs, and with true teares condole,
The dreadfull horror that torments him so:
Sith for thy sake this sorrow pierc't his heart,
Good reason in his griefe thou beare some part.
See how that heauenly face is altred quite,
Scarce to be knowne by what it was euen now:
Dead-pale vsurpes the seat of red and white:
And Care sits figur'd in his wrinkled brow.
Distressefull feare seemes drown'd in watery eyne,
That ouerwash his cheekes with weeping brine:
Like as the bright Sunne in a Welkin faire,
With pitchie mist on sudden ouer-cast,
Shoots forth his beames in vaine to cleare the ayer:
Cloud vpon cloud still thickning wondrous fast:
Blacke night doth ouer-hang the shadowed land,
Threatning a cruell tempest out of hand.
Or as the Sea tost by some boisterous wind,
Doth mainly beat vpon the quiet shore,
Swels in huge waues aboue due course of kind,
And with selfe-motion laboureth more and more:
Such is the troubled state, and deepe vnrest,
Wherewith our Sauiours soule is now opprest.
O heauens great'st strength, and Angels chiefest ioy,
Earths hope, hels feare, true God omnipotent!
What griefe can vexe, or terror strange dismay
Thy spotlesse soule with such sad languishment?
What terror can these pangs of passion breed,
Which make thee seeme not as thou art indeed?
Is death, the entrance to felicity,
The finall date of all terrestriall wo,
The glorious triumph of thy victory,
The way by which perforce all flesh must go,
So dreadfull to affright thee, like as those,
Which here on earth their highest blisse repose?
O wherefore didst thou leaue thy heauenly Throne,
And shrowd a Godhead in our mortall frame?
Why hast thou here by signes thy might made knowne,
And taken to thy selfe a Sauiours name?
If not to quell the rage of hellish powers,
And lastly by thy death to redeeme ours.
If now (wo worth the while) thou shouldst giue o're,
And leaue thy worke so neere an happy end;
Who then (ah who) shall promisd health restore
To vs, whose hopes on thee alone depend?
No Sonne, but thou, of earthly mother bred,
Hath power to crush the cursed Serpents head.
[...]n outward shew thou didst pretend of late,
An inward longing for this present time;
[...]rging the Traitor to accelerate
The issue of his il-conceiued crime:
Yet now the houre and Iudas both are nie;
Thy courage failes, and thou art loth to die.
But oh! what haue I said? can feare dismay,
Whom, mou'd to wrath, the earth doth quake to see?
Can his thoughts change so soone, whose power doth stay
All powers in stable order as they be?
Ah! no defects impaire not heauenly store;
And he is now the same he was before.
This sad eclipsing feare, that seemes so dimme,
The glorious Sun-shine of his Deity,
Could neuer haue a rising cause from him,
But from our natures imbecillity;
Which, though supported by celestiall grace,
Yet faintly shrinkes, and shewes of what it was.
In what he hath assum'd our feeble flesh,
Therein he trembling faints, and stands dismaid:
Like as that strength we haue in our distresse,
Comes not of vs, but of his heauenly ayd:
To right our cause, his Godhead suffers wrong:
He weake by vs, and we by him are strong.
When first made Adam ioylesse all alone,
In Edens beauteous Garden did remaine,
To fashion Eue he gaue his proper bone,
And had with flesh the place fill'd vp againe:
So Christs deare-loued Spouse the Church still weares
His rib of strength, and he her frailty beares.
Retir'd about a stones cast from the rest,
Hem'd in with horror, such exceeding waight
Of earth-committed sinnes his soule opprest,
That on both knees he fals, and after straight,
His paine increasing, prostrate lies to pray,
That from him this sad houre might passe away.
Ah, Abba, Father, which all things didst make,
And do'st preserue them made, (if so may be)
Bow downe thine eyes, and for thy mercy sake,
Remoue this bitter cup of wrath from me.
Yet let not my will be fulfill'd herein,
But thine (deare Father) which hath euer bin.
Full oft else-where good Christ did intercesse
For vs, and neuer had one sute debar'd:
And yet folliciting his owne distresse,
Obtaines not of his Father to be heard:
For God so lou'd the world, that now he gaue
His onely Sonne from sinne the same to saue.
Who Lambe-like mild in league with heau'ns decree,
Folding earth-dwellers in as deare embrace,
Would, pleading for himselfe, repulsed be,
That for vs praying, he might still find grace.
O rare obedience, perfect zeales true signe,
How much owe we for this great loue of thine!
But now he riseth from the dewie ground,
To visit his Disciples left distrest,
And finds them all securely sleeping sound:
When waking Peter, (heauy as the rest)
O Simon, art thou now asleepe? (quoth he)
What? couldst thou not watch one bare houre with me?
As he would say, Wert thou of selfe-accord,
So prodigall of vowes, with timelesse speed,
And do'st so soone neglect thy helplesse Lord,
In drowsie slumber at his greatest need?
Ill canst thou in my safegard spend thy blood,
That wilt not wake to do thine owne soule good.
Not so false Iudas, who for pettie gaine,
Sleepes not a winke this night, nor can forbeare:
Postes round the waked streetes, cals vp his traine,
Sollicits helpe, seekes armour euery where,
Marshals his Band himselfe, and thinkes a yeere,
Till he may come to apprehend me here.
O shame! that Satans slaues so forward are
In acting mischiefe, that shall bring damnation;
And you, to saue your soules, deuoid of care:
O watch and pray therefore, lest ill temptation
Oppresse your faith: the spirit faine would do it,
But that weake flesh is hardly brought vnto it.
Not yet through-wak't, he leaues thē slumbring stil,
And fraught with feares, departs againe to pray,
Impulst by weaknesse of his humane will:
O Father, if this cup in no wise may
Passe by, vnlesse the potion worke in me,
Thy heauenly pleasure let performed be.
Thus this good Shepheard, iealous of his sheepe,
Whom rauening Wolues, he knowes, will soone molest,
Watches with care, whilst they securely sleepe,
And sighes alone, that they in peace may rest:
Not sparing to ingage his proper life,
To saue them all from slaughtring butchers knife.
His prayer ended, he returnes againe,
And finds like comfort, that he found before:
They still slept hard, vnable to refraine
One minutes rest; and, which did grieue him more,
So carelesse of the former words he spake,
Quite vnprouided what excuse to make.
O now what horror in this soule doth dwell?
[...]aked of helpe, forsaken all alone,
[...]ught by his bloodie foes, assail'd of hell,
[...]etraid, or else neglected of his owne:
Giuen vp by heau'n to die with painfull shame,
And bare the burden of all sinners blame.
[...]wake, my soule, run forth with ioy and dread,
[...] to this garden where thy Sauiour lies;
[...]ere shalt thou see the Booke of life wide spred,
[...]ith lessons stor'd of heauenly mysteries:
There shalt thou see thy truth, thy strength, thy food,
Thy way, thy life, thy light, and all thy good.
[...]here shalt thou see the way of patience,
[...]he Sun-bright lampe of burning charitie,
[...]he perfect patterne of obedience,
[...]he mirrour of profound humility,
The root of loue, the goale of vertues race,
The salue of sinne, and fulnesse of Gods grace.
[...]here shalt thou see the strength of Israels weale,
[...]at valiant Dauid, thy most louing God;
[...]est to the fight, arm'd all in fiery zeale,
[...]rning with hot desire to spend his blood,
And wash away the foule opprobrious blot,
That threats vile bondage, if he succour not.
Emboldened with exceeding loue of thee,
Here in these paled lists alone he stayes,
Expecting till his foes arriued be:
Meane while accumulating sundry wayes,
With willing mind to his al-ready store,
Such paines, as neuer flesh did feele before.
O with what sorrow did the nobler part
Of his pure soule, where Reason hath her seat,
Pity th'inferiour, where weake Sense doth smart?
How faithfully for it did he intreat,
Vntill at last, concorded both in one,
They ioyntly cride, Father, thy will be done.
Yet though this blessed Vnion did gain-say
Detract of time, whereto faint flesh aspires,
From the Disciples he departs away,
And to his praying place againe [...]et [...]es,
And there the third time, doth with teares implore,
Vsing like words as he had vsde before.
When lo, an Angel gliding through the ayre,
Appeares to him, from starrie Region sent,
Which makes him for a while desist his prayer,
To hearken what this heauenly Herald meant:
Who nearer comes, with sweet speech comforteth
His fainting Lord, against dismay of death.
Sweet Iesu, how art thou deiected now,
From sublime glory, to disgrace and feare?
Most true it is the Prophet spake, That thou
Art somewhat lower made then Angels were,
Since in thine agonizing languishment,
To comfort thee, an Angel downe is sent.
See, see, O Angel, how thy Maker lies
Below, and here on earth, afflicted sore;
Whom, plac't in maiestie aboue the skies,
With feare and reuerence you do all adore:
Wonder of wonders, the like neuer done,
How can thine eyes endure to looke thereon?
Can riuers adde vnto their fountaines slow,
Through whose supply, those streames they haue, do runne?
Can branches helpe the quickning root to grow?
Or pale-fac't Moone lend light vnto the Sunne?
How canst thou, Angel, comfort then his mind,
In whom thy selfe dost all thy comfore find?
But this, O man, must needs on thee be laid,
Whose fleshes frailtie, and sinnes earned smart,
Doth with surcharging horror so inuade:
That euen almost forgetting his best part,
(His Godheads power) be sdaines not in this dread,
Of his owne creature to be comforted.
And yet, alas, this comfort could not cure
The death-sicke dolours of his wounded heart:
But now the time grew on, his body pure,
Vnto the dreadfull Crosse, must needes depart;
And rising vp, he thus to them did say,
The man was neere, that should their Lord betray.
No sooner had our Sauiour told this newes,
But straight the traitorous Iudas with a kisse,
Betraid his Lord and Master to the Iewes,
A cruell act, which lost eternall blisse:
The sands on shore in number are not told:
His sundry faults passe number to vnfold.
O let me breathe, before I do proceed:
Surcharging loads will craue a little rest:
The grants are small to them that stand in need,
That will not bring some comfort to their brest:
And he that writes what doth in wicked lurke,
Shall breathe him twice before he end his worke.
Looke how the Sea-fowles on a stormy day,
Do flocke themselues about the Ocean shore;
As thicke as Leaues when Summer fleetes away,
So throng these Iewes vnto him more and more:
Cruell reward! he ought to them good will,
And they, like traitours, sought his blood to spill.
[...]en from the Garden they their Master brought
[...] to the Priests and Elders of their crue:
[...]ey bore false witnesse, there his life they sought.
[...]ch cride, that death should be his onely due:
Labouring (indeed) as much as in them lay,
To take the Life of liues, their Lord away.
[...]d then from thence they drag'd him to his death:
[...]en to the Crosse they nail'd his hands and feet:
[...]en did they stop their blessed Sauiours breath:
[...]en did they him with scornefull titles greet:
And now the Scripture true is brought to passe:
For he amongst the wicked counted was.
[...] now the houre of death being fully runne,
[...]e heauens were darke, he to his Father cries;
[...] God, my God, why dost thou leaue thy Sonne?
[...]d ending so, his soule from bodie flies.
A happy death, since death doth make vs liue:
And blest be He, that blessed life doth giue.
FINIS.