NAture awake, it is time for the Wor •• to rise, the Night hath proceeded, The firs • day of the Creation. and twelve hours are as it w • re alread • past since Hea • en and Earth have been in obs ••• ity. Behold the break of day; and those delightfull Colours, which play upon the Waters, are the Companions of thāt light, which in Pa • estine hath already opened the Doors and Windows of the East, and is going to spread it self upon another Hemisphear. Nevertheless to finish this Carriere, to perfect this course, and to round the whole Globe twelve hours more are required; and then counting from Evening till Morning, and from Morning till Evening, you shall find all the Moments, which form the first day, a glorious day, a day illustrious for having first received the light, which gives glory and splendor to all dayes.

The second day was not less glorious: For it was that in which God chose to raise up the Firmament, The second Day. like a Circle of Brass, or rather like a Globe of Gold and Azure, which might serve to divide the seven Orbes of the Planets from the Empereal Heaven.

The next day God descended from Heaven upon Earth, The third Day. and it was on this day, he marked out bounds, and limits to Rivers, Streams, Seas and Torre • ts, so that the Waters retyring some on one side, and some on the other, just as they were shut up within their Banks, Clifts and Chanels, the Earth appeared, and immediatly her sides were found pierced with Caverns, and her back loaden with Mountains and Rocks which rais'd her in a stately mann •• . Instantly her entrals were filled with Stones and Metals; and • hilst those four great portions of the Earth which divide the World, and all the Islands of the Ocean and Seas were Levelled to serve for Empires and possessions of men, the hand of God as just as liberal, did in the bosom of the Earth uphold the Arches of her Prisons and Dungeons, to the end that if the Paradice of Eden was a Garden of delights and pleasures, Hell on the contrary might be an abode of dread, horror and Misery. It was likewise very convenient that as God had mixed Light wit • Darkness, he should create Wild places and desart • to render the Gardens, Fields and Meadows more delightful; and finally having the very same day given Plants, Herbs and Flowers for an Ornament to the Earth, his wise Providence mingled Thorns with Roses, and the most wholesome 〈◊〉 sprung out of the same soyl with the Mandra •• and Aconite.

The fourth day, having bin as it were the Chariot of the Sun, Moon, Th • Fourt • Day. Stars, and Planets which shine in the Heavens, may in some manner be called the day of days, since it hath bin the Origin of the fires brightness and flames, which are the Soul of the Day.

Then were the frozen and condensed waters gathered together with more light and heat to form the Body of the Planets: Next the Sun, Moon an • Stars began their courses, periods and revolutions, and took the tracks and ways which were traced out to them from East to W • st.

Let us turn them upon the Fift d • y, wherein God created the Birds which fly in the Air, The Fift Day. and the Fishes which swim in the Water: One must hear represent unto his thoughts some fair Summers day, and imagine that he sits in the cool upon the shore of some Island, from thence he must lift up his eyes towards Heaven, and behōld over head thousands of little feathered bodies, cleaving the Air with their wings, piercing the Clouds, and mingling with their flight the sweet Harmony of their warblings; He must afterwards behold at his Fe • t a River full of Fishes armed with Scales, some of which • ut th • ir way nee • the surface of the water, and others through the midst of the waves; some swim alo • t against the stream and Current, others are carryed down at the pleasure of the winds, and by the favour of so sweet and rapid an Element.

Scarce had the Morning brought news of the arrival of the Sixt day, The sixt Day. but at the same instant the Earth opene • her eyes unto her Su • , and her ears unto the voice of her God. This dull heavy and insensible Mass not satisfied to have brought sorth Flowers Plants and Trees, yet farther displaid it self to produce all sorts of • ea • ts and Anim • ls, behol • the World in her Cradle, a • d Nature in her Infancy, the unmoveable Earth round about her Center is sown with Flowers, tapistr • d with Tur • and Virdures, beautified with Woods and Forrests; she is s • ately in her Mountains, pleasant in her Valleys, delightful in her Meadows; She is rich in h • r M • tals, • ertill in her Fru • ts, and plentifull by her Rivers and Seas which inviron her on all parts, and form her a thousan • liquid transpa • ences. The Air incompasses her on all • ides, an • serves her •• r a veil to temp • r th • over-hu •• d influences of the Moon, and the too ar • ent R • y • of the Sun. The Heavens like pe • dent Roofs and rowling Ar • hes are strewed with Fl • wers, Emeraul • s and Rubies. What doth remain aft • r all these Prodigies of Power, and all these works of Love? O Power! O Love! I cannot condemn his fancy who sai • th • t Love produced Heaven out of a Chaos, and the World in six days out of a confused and undisgested Lump.

ABEL was from his Birth, of so sweet and facile, so plyant, and tractable a disposition, a A • am and Eve were even inforced to bestow on him their most tender affections. Cain on the contrary▪ who was his Elder Brother, appeared to be of s • fierce, and imperious a Nature, that at length t • sweeten it, they resolved to oblige him to cultivat • the Earth, that his spirit might learn how to softe • the hardest of Elemens, and to temper the harshnes • of his Courage.

Abel at the same time employed himself in keeping Sheep, and guiding his Fathers Flo • ks amidst the Pastures: His mind in repose, and amidst the silenc • of the Field • , began to take his flight to Heaven.

Upon which we may now suppose the cruel & monstrous TyrantSin setting forth on his first Travels into t • eWorld,Sin began his first Travels. Apollyon following him close at his he • ls▪ to see him do his business effectually, and to assist him in every enterprize; and so it fell out, just as he began his Journey, Cain and Abel were offering Sacrifices; and having intelligence of both their Dispositions, he made up to Cain's door, and there lay co • ching down, like a hurtful Beast, ready to devour; and secretly whispering in to his Ear, to spare the best of his substance to enrich himself; and also intimated to him, that all that he offered to the Lord was lost, and would never be rewarded; and Faith not being in Cain's House, he harkned to this cursed stranger, and did accordingly; yet he brought his Offering, least he should displease his Father A • am, who, it is thought, at that time, was high Priest, which Office, afterwards, fell to the First-born in the Family. But when Cain saw his Offering was not excepted, and his Brothers was, this Enemy being near, knocked at h • s door.

A • d he presently lo • g'd him in the best Room he had: neither do I read of any opposition made against him, by any in the H ••• e.

He had no sooner receiv'd him, but immediately (by secret in • tigatio •• and Instructions from Apollyon, who was glad to see him entertain'd) he apply • ed himself to him after this manner:

Presently upon this motion, Conscience stept in; and spoke after this m • nn • r:

And immediatly, away he went and call'd his Brother forth; and they walked together in the Field.

Some things of this Nature, 'tis rationally suppos'd they might discourse of: And Cain being a • re • h mov'd to Wrath thereby, took the Devils counsel, and rose up and murthered him,

See Reverend Mr. Answorth upon this Matter:

Thus this Tyrant and Monster prevail'd; and in a second attempt▪ over came the Fourth part of the World. But see how Sin and the Devil deceiv'd Cain: The Murther was soon discovered; for lo▪ on a sudden, a mighty Cry was heard; Vengeance! Vengeance! God, who is the searcher out of Blood, cryes, Where is. Abel thy Borther? Nothing can be hid from his Eye. Murther shall not go unpunished: The Voice of thy Brother's Blood cryes to me from the Ground. Guilt follows his Sin with the dreadful Wrath of God; And now thou art cursed from the Face of the Earth, &c.

At this stroak the Heart of Cain becomes a little sensible, and the hardness of his Soul, although too late, begins to soften.

Alas Lord! (said he) my Iniquity is greater than thy Mercies, and my Sin is too enormous to hop • for Pardon. I confess it, and from this very moment I depart from hence like a banished Man to wander day by day without peace or relaxation. Besides, my Brothers Ghost persues and torments me, with too much severity: Even thy self, O my God, and my Iudge, chasest me away far from thy Countenance, and far from the pleasing glances which issue from thine Eyes. Ah then let the Sun and Moon cease to enlighten the World, and let me for ever wander amidst the Murtherous shades of Abel, and let my life pine away in obscurity: Otherwise I fear (saith he) that at the first sight and encounter, some one may kill, and treat me according to my deserts.

No no, Cain, saith God, nothing of what thou • earest shall happen to thee; and if any one be so rash to attempt on thee, I will make him feel the excess of my Wrath▪ For this effect God imprinted a sensible mark upon his forehead, which served him for a safe-guard against all the Assaults of his Enemies. This done, the poor wretch went away all alone, pale, trembling, The disquiets and the banishment of Cain. pursued by the stings of his Soul: And after some wan • rings arrived in the L • nd of Ede • , lyi •• Eastward. It was under this Cl • m • te, and near unto Mount Libanus, that this fugitive at last made his retreat: There it was, where he built a City, and had by his Wife a very numerous posterity.

IT is true; that Men were never more at Pe • ce, the Earth never more pure, and Heaven never powred down so many savours as it shed upon the Earth and the Children of Noah. Nevertheless in the mid'st of Pleasure, Peace, Concord, Love, Joy, and all sorts of Benedictions, this poor Man, whom all the Waters of the World, and of the Deluge, could not vanquish, was drown'd at last in a Glass of Wine.

O God! What scandall, what shame, what disquiet, and what disorder in the Family of Noah? This good old Man, fell cold and stiff on the ground, and it is not known whether he be dead or alive. His Children run presently to help him, but as if the s •• ne of the Wine, which their Father-had taken too inconsiderately, had dazel'd and blinded the youngest of them; instead of casting ashes, and Water on the Flaming Coals, which consum'd his poor Father, he made a Bone-fire of Mirth, and scorn about his Nakedness: And with an unparalleld impudence discover'd to the Eyes of all his Brethren, what Nature hath concealed. His Brothers nevertheless were more respectfull, and prudent than himself: For immediatly Piety cast veyls over their Eyes, and Love, though Blind, found out Artifices to cover an Object which was neither decent nor Lawfull to behold. It was in recompence of these chast duties, that No • h being returne • out of that Abyss, into whi • h Wi • e had precipitated him, open'd the Eyes of his Bo • y, and Soul, and a • terwards perceiving the unnatural impudence of Cham, he darted forth the Thunder of his malediction against his Son Canaan, beseeching likewise God to bless, and fill Sem, Iaphet, and all their Progeny, with his Graces. It was from their Posterity all the Generations of the World are descended; and they were the Persons who laid the foundation of Sodom, Ninivie, Salem, and Gomorrha; as also of so many other Famous Cities, from whence afterwards Arts, • epublicks, Policies, Governments, and all the Empires of the Universe took their Rise.

SO it happened not long after this that the Inhabitants of the Earth feeling the Justice of their own Consciences, and they not calling upon God, they feared the comming of another Deluge, so they resolv'd to build a Tower, and raise the top of it even as high as the Clouds. The chief Undertaker of this famous Structure was the Gyant •• mrod, Grandchild to that Reprobate Cham, who discovered his Fathers shame. This Architect was of a proud Nature, and of a Capricious humour, believing that his enterprises, and his designs, were to be executed without the least opposition.

In effect, never was any work undertaken, and advanced with more Expedition, nor with more Ardor, Zeal, and Submission. But the Grand designer of the World, the Architect of the Universe, and the generall Producer of all things, who takes delight to confound the Wisdom of the Wi • e, and to overthrow the Plots, and Enterpri • es of the most Powerfull, beholding these Fortifications rais'd neer mid-way, and being able no longer to endure this Audacity, and these presumptuous Attempts, resolv'd at last to overturn all these Fort • , and to cast a generall confusion of Tongues amongst the Carpenters, and Masons. This made a Tower of Babel, that is to say of Disorder, War, and Confusion. This Stately Building, this lofty Cittadell, this impregnable Fort, was but a Labyrinth of deaf and dumb people, who spake without hearing one another, & cry'd out when it was not in any mans power 〈◊〉 help them.

Behold the Enterprises and Designs of the World▪ Behold the Structure of the Gyants of the Earth, and the Sanctuary of their Pride.

Vanity of this World! Glory of a few dayes! Phantasms of the Earth! seeming beauties! Men, what doe you think? and why I beseech you, so many Houses, so many Castles, Cities and Villages? cast your Eyes on the Tower of Babel, and dread at least the fate of the like disast • r. Finally then make your Wills, Ingrave your Epitaphs, seek out six or seaven Foot of Earth, and from henceforth think only on erecting your Tombs. Go, consult your Ancestors, your Fathers, and Masters; cast your selves at their Feet, enter into their Sepulchers, search into the bottom of their Monuments, and be not affrighted to behold so many ravell'd Crowns, so many broken Scepters, and so much Purple serving only to cover Worms.

BUt now who would have believed, that Abra • ams humour, and courage▪ • ad been of a valourous temper, when he was only seen to take Lot by the Hand, and say unto him▪ that all his goods belonged unto him, and that to avoi • War he gave the World for a Field of Peace, an • for an assured t • stimony, that he pref • r'd a quiet Life before all pretensions whatsoev • r.

Nevertheless when news was brought him, that the King of Sennay, the King of the El • mites, the • ing of Pont • s, and he that was commonly calle • the King of Nations, were become Masters of the Field, and of the Sodomites Countrey, (who were his cons •• erat •• ▪) and that even after the taking o • Sodom, poor Lot, who fell into their Hands, wa • lead by their command into a sad captivity; at th • very same instant this p • aceable Traveller, instea • of a Staff, took Arms into his Hands, and having selected three hundred and eighteen of his bravest Servants, he went forraging the Country, and so couragiously pursued his Enemies, that afterward being come to the confines of Iudea near the Fountains of Iordan, and finding them still wholy puffed up with the success of their Victories, and loaden with their booty, he set upon them with so great courage, and dexterity, as at last he put them to a shamefull rout, and gave th • m so general a defeat, that he brought back both Lot, and all his Goods, with the remainder of the spoyls of all the Assyrians, who were all either dead or put to flight.

After this defeat Melchisedeck, who was King of Salem, and also high Priest of the most high, offered Bread, and Wine, as a thansgiving for the Victories he had gained: Afterwards he gave his benediction to Abraham, who also presented him with the tenths of his spoyls and of • is whole booty.

The King of the So • omites too fayled not to render his duties unto this Conqu • ror.

After this God made Abraham come out of his Pavillion, and then not satisfied with having promised him a Posterity numerous as the Sands of the Sea, he shewed him the Heavens, with promise that the number of his Children should equal the Planets and Stars of the Firmament. Adding to him afterwards, that suddainly he should have a Son by his dear Sara, who should be the Heir of his poss • ssions, and the Ornament of his Family.

Notwithstanding all these Assurances and promises Sara who felt her self Barre • permitted her Husband what the Law and Custome of that time allowed; and much more, for this chast Wife humbly intreated, that Agar though a Servant, might share with her in his Bed and affections: But Agar was no sooner become a Mother, but she would be at the same time also a Mistress.

So Agar having been disgracefully driven out of Abraham's and Sara's House, when her wandring heart had leasure to entertain more humble and mild thoughts; God who hath fatherly tendernesses for those who place their whole strength and Consolation in Meekness and Humility, immediately sent an Angel to her, who promised her a favourable return; and besides, gave her assurances that shortly she should have a Son, who should be called Ishmael: In effect, she conceived, and was delivered, as the Angel had said, Abraham being no less than fourscore and six years old or near upon.

But what! was it not sufficient to have even run for the spa • e of Ninty and • ine years, and been in a Continual journey during the whole course of his life? Was it not time to make a halt, when he saw himself near the shore, and that his life was arrived almost in the Haven?

It imports not (saith God unto him) it is I that speak, and thou must obey: On then Abraham, pass farther, I will be a Spectator of thy Voyages, and of the Progresses thou shalt make in the way of perfection.

Presently after, as if this f • rtunate and glorious Name had been the Seal of the Contract, and of the Allyance which God made with Abraham, he would render it more sensible. and add to these Cyphers of Love an Impression of Grie • , and a Charactor of Blood.

Then was Circumcision commanded not only for Abraham, Commandement for Circumcision but for all his Children▪ and Servants, and in general for all those that should be numbred amongst his Generations; provided nevertheless they were Males; for Women were exempted from the Law: Concerning the time prefixed for tho accomplishment of this precept, it was not to pass the term of Eight dayes; and the proposed end was no other than mens accord and peace with God.

GOD gives himself entirely to Abraham, and Abraham hath nothing which he gives not for his sake.

He made this evidently appear, when being in the Valley of Mambre at the opening of his Tents, about high Noon, he saw three Pilgrims tann'd with the Ardors of the Sun, and tyred at least in appearance with the pains and toyl of their journey: for immediately this magnificent, cordiall, and devout Man, who bore God and men in his heart, prevented these travellors, and his Soul which allwayes discovered truth amidst shadows, ador'd the Majesty of one God hidden under the habit of these three Pilgrims. Afterwards he offered them his Table and House and not satisfied with these profers, he treated them in words and deeds, and then to render his duties more perfect he mixed them with so much sweetness, so much cordiality, and so much reverence, that afterwards he would needs wash their feet, honouring them not only as guests, but also as Masters of his House.

This Heavenly practise is in a word, as Solomon said, to cast ones Bread upon the torrent of Waves to receive it in aeternity.

In • ffect, these three guests whom Abraham re • eived into his tents with so much affection, zeal, and reverence, made a Paradise under one Pavillion; these were also Angels of Heaven, having only the shape and countenance of Men; from whence I gather, that under Ragged Garments, and a skin torn with Ulcers, and eaten up with Cankers, God and his Angels often conceal themselves; but to proceed when the crimes and execrations of So • om and Go • o • rha pres • i • gly ca • e • upon Gods Justice, and when the bl • ckest vapor • of these horrid 〈◊〉 ascen • ed even as high as Heaven, this most a ••• lure Judge, who makes 〈◊〉 de ••• tive decrees withou • d ••• ndence or • ounsell demeaned hims • lf as if he dur • t • ot doe it witho • t the advice of A • raham.

Ah wh • t! saith he, c • n I con ••• l my d • signs an • thoughts from my dear Abraham, who is to b • th • Pillar, of the Worl • , and the Father of so m • ny Na • io • s? No certainly, but I m • st discharge part of my displeasure into his b • s • me, th •• he may shar • with me in my d • signs as well as in my cont •• tm • nts.

H • arken then Abraham, dost thou well un • erstand, 〈◊〉 God, what p • sseth? For my part I hear a confused 〈◊〉 . which daily sounds louder and louder; it is surely the Voice of my Justice which requires vengeance ag • inst the •• habitants of Sodom and Gomorrha, which have re •• red their Cities an Abyss of horrors and abominations. Dost thou not hear these impure Mouths, these poy •••• us Tongues, these bewitched Hearts, these fleshy Sou • s, these Soul-less Bo • ies, an • these ungodly Men without Faith, without Law, and without Honour?

Abraham, But what my God! hast thou not Eyes whic • pi • rce from the highest Heaven, even into the center of Hell? And is not the least of thy gl • nces abl • to diss • pate all the shadows of the Night. Why dost tho • t • en say •• ou wilt descend into Sodom, and s • e in pers • n what p • ss • th before thine Eyes. But now whe • A • raham himself at last beh • ld the Lighted Torche • which were to be the Instruments of this sad Incerdium, the Sanctity and freeness of his Heart permitted him to say. •

Ah! What great God! Could it possibly happen that thy indignation should be Blind, and that thy Thunderbolts should equally fall upon the Iust and Sinners? God of Goodness canst thou behold the innocent in the midst of punishments, without some touch of Compassion? Alas Lord! Wilt thou not pardon this Criminall City, if in c • se but fifty innocent Persons be found in it; is not this a Motive powerfull enough to invite thee unto Commiseration? Ah! Let it be never then said, that thy just providence, which extends it self over all the Empires of the World, hath stifled Vice and Vertue under the same Ashes.

Is not this an innocent freedom, and capable of moving even the Bowels of Gods mercy? Indeed God promised him to deliver all those that were invelaped in that • rime, in case there were s • und not fif • y, but ten only worthy of pardon.

But it seems the iniquity of Men is so much the more enormous, as the goodness of God is immense and admirable. And who would believe that Vertue and Piety are in such sort banished from the Earth as some good Men may not be found in it? It is then for this cause God advanced towards Sodom, to cha • tise their Vices, and to extinguish the lust of their Women with a Deluge of Fire.

IN fine, Heaven hath heard the vows and prayers of Abraham: Isaack is born, and Sara is so much ravished at the sight of this happy prodigy that she can hardly believe what she sees.

What a wonder is it to see this Child of Tears and Desires become an object of a ravishing Joy. Sara art thou afraid that the life of thy Son will bring thee death, and that the excess of a joy so little expected, will even melt thy heart? For my part I allready apprehend lest the pastime of Isaack and Ishmael prove the occasion of a quarel, and that at last either the Mother or Child must be chased away: In effect, Sara could not endure the sight of Agar and Ishmael, she intreats Abraham to put both of them out of his House. But Abraham who hath the tenderness of a Father for Ishmael, cannot condescend to her desires. It seems to this good Man that the severing of Isaack and Ishmael would even cut his heart in two. There is a necessity Nevertheless of obeying the request of Sara, for God commands Abraham in this occasion to execute all his injunctions, with promise that notwithstanding all contrary appearances Isaack and Ishmael shall be the first Seeds of a most ample and happy posterity.

What pitty was it to see this poor Handmaid enter with her Son into a solitary and uninhabited Desart, and leave a plentifull House, where she had ever lived as a Mistriss?

What pitty was it to see Agar and Ishmael in the desarts of Bersheba with hunger and thirst, and in a generall want of all the conveniencies of Nature, will not men believe them to be as it were dead in the World, and alive in a Tomb? What hope is there amongst Stones and Rocks? What society in the midst of Woods, where nothing is heard but cryes, and roarings of Monsters? What succour amidst Wild places, and out of the Road of men? What light under the shades of Pits and Caverns, where the Sun dares not approach? What means of Livelihood, where all Animals are dead? Where nothing but frightfull Dens are seen, but aride sandes, and some old Trunk of a Tree, without Branches, Leaves; or Fruits?

What then will Agar doe, she hath no more Water nor Bread? And mean while her life, her Love and hear dear Ishmael can no longer endure the torments of hunger and thirst; he is already constrained to stay at the foot of a Tree, and there to cast forth loud cryes; Distressed Mother, what will you do? What a happiness would it be for you to die first that you might not die twice? Sara what have you done? Abraham where are you? Ah God! What grief is it unto a Mother to see between her Arms the Tomb of her Son?

Ismael hath now lost his speech, he is without hope, and Agar abandons him as no longer able to live, seeing her heart half dead before her Eyes.

Farewell Ismael, farewell poor Orphan, farewell all the affections and hopes of Agar.

And when any Man shall chance to pass by this solitary place, let him ingrave upon this Trunk, that here Agar and her Son found their exile, their Death, and at lengt • their Monument.

Agar what do you say? Is this the hope you repose in God? And are these the promises he made unto Abraham? Ah! do you not know that Heaven hath Eyes alwayes open to Innocency, and the least of Ishmaels sighs is able to draw God into this Desart?

In effect, when Agar was removed a flight shot, from Ishmael, as she sent forth her Cryes after the Moanings of her Son, an Angel called her by her Name, and said unto her,

Goe Agar, and return to thy Son, take him by the hand, and reanimate this little dying Body. O God! who will not admire thy sage Providence, and the miraculous conduct of thy Designs.

AT the earnest request of Isaack Heaven was obliged to grant that at last, which a long time before God had promised him; and in conclusion therefore, behold Rebecca great with Child and ready to lye down. But as the pleasures of the World are not durable, so she quickly feels the approaches of her labour; They are no other than pains and throws, and her Womb seemed to be a thick Cloud of Thunders, and a Field of Battle, in which two little Children begin an intestine War against each other, which cannot end but by the Destruction of the Mother, or the death of her Children.

However it were, she consulted God; and God answered her, that she bore too Nations in her Womb, and that two People should issue forth of her Bowels, one of which should Triumph over the other, and the Elder be slave unto the Younger; And Iacob though the Younger, supplanted Esau who was his Elder Brother.

For this reason Iacob received his name; for as his Elder Brother was stiled Esau because his whole Body was covered with rough Hair; so Iacob was called Iacob, because at the issuing sorth of his Mothers Womb he h • ld Esau by the soal of his Foot, to testify that he would supplant him?

Is not this an early beginning to War with each other, since in their Mothers Womb they began the intestine Duel?

But what ever happens, Iacob shall be vanquisher; for Heaven is on his side, and the supplanting of Esau shall rather proceed from the Hand of God than that of Iacob.

But alas! What strife? What Victory? What • riumphs? When the Crowns we gain are but Roses staind with Blood, and Lawrels which wither in a moment, and transform themselves into eter • all Thorns.

It is not for this prize Iacob sought in his Mothers Womb, but he assaults and supplants Esau for the purchase of Immortal Crowns.

WE need not be over much versed in Physiog • omy, to fo •• t • ll what Esau would prove; for in hi • Birth he gave so many evident •• gns, as we cannot be ignorant of his future inclinations. His Body Hairy like a Bear, could not be animated but by the Soul of a Beast.

Iacob on the contrary had only the qualities of a Dove, and his Heart had less Gall than a Lamb. He went scarce ever out of the House, and shewed so much simplicity, sweetness, and moderation, as but to see him a Man was constrained to love him.

Notwithstanding Isaack had more violent inclinations towards his Eldest Son: And this Love was only grounded upon Esau's constant custome in bringing him every Day some piece of Venison.

However it were, the Liberty Isaack gave to Esau of running all the day long through Woods and Forrests, was the occasion which brought him to his first misfortune: For this poor Chaser comming one day weary and Hungry from hunting, and meeting with Iacob who had c • used some Pulse to be sod, he intreated him to give him a share of it; to which Iacob willingly agreeded, upon Condition he would yield up to him his right of Primogeniture.

Alas! • dye for very hu •• er answ • red Esau, what will this Right avail thee after my death? if it be so replyed Iacob, take an Oath that thou wilt give it me; Well, in truth then I swear it (saith Esau) and I acknowledge thee in quality of my Elder Brother: whereupon this poor wretch took immediately Bread and Pulse from his Bro • hers Hand, little valueing the loss he had made of the first advantage wherewith God and Nature had •• voured him.

• ACOB being now wak'd out of this mysterious sleep and Divine rapture, in which God had • ept him for the space of a whole Night on the •• ains of Bethel, he took his way towards the East, • here a while after near unto a Well, he met with •• ocks of Sheep and Sheep-herds, of whom he en •• ired whether they were not acquainted with Laban, and whether they knew not his House. Behold, at the same time a Rachel approaching, the second Daughter of Laban, who kept her Fathers Sheep, and led them to drink where Iacob stay'd.

And here we may suppose Iacob thus to bespeak his fair Rachel, upon his first approches to her, viz.