BY EDMVND ELIS, Master of Arts, and Fellow of Baliol Colledge in Oxford.

Epist. ad 1 Cor. C. 3. V. 18.

LONDON, Printed by T. Lock for the use of the Author. MDCLIX.



DO not expect to have an account why I set forth these Poems a­gain: If thou shalt like them, thou wilt not doubt but I had Reason sufficient to make them as pub­like as I could: If thou art one of those Vain Fellowes that scorn and deride them; to tell thee the reason I had for it, would be no other then to talk of [Page] Colours to a Blinde Man, or of Sounds to one that is Deaf. If any man wonder that l thus incurr the Censures of People, let him know, That if my Heart do not starngely de­ceive me, I would rather expose my self to the continual Aspersions of the Foulest Mouths; or be in danger of Death it self, then neglect any Oppor­tunity of doing God such service, as J doubt not but I shall by my further Publication of these my Vn-worldly, and most Retir'd Imaginations; which, being composed in Meetre, will (I suppose) sute the better with the Genius of some, and be the apter to insinuate, and work themselves deep into the Memories of all that read them. And now Reader, if thou bee'st a CHRISTIAN indeed, I shall in­treat [Page] thee by all the Love that thou ow­est to Him that was CRUCIFIED for thy sake, that thou wouldst Oppose with all thy Might, that Vain Spirit of Foolish Talking and Writing, which is gone abroad into the World to the great Dishonor of HIS Name; who has told us, that we shall give an account of every idle word. And here I cannot but Exclaim aloud (to Thee and all True CHRISTIANS) a­gainst some of Mr. COWLEY's Verses; particularly that Part of his Book, which hee entitles THE MISTRESS; in which there are se­veral Expressions so provoking to Spe­culative Lust and uncleanness, that I can't conceive how a CHRISTI­AN, that casts his Eye on them, can think otherwise, then that the Author [Page] did either Forget that There is a GOD, or that 'tis Sinful to be Lascivious. What Prophaneness also is this Au­thor guilty of, who uses these Sacred Words, HEAVEN, DEITY, DI­VINE PRESENCE, FAITH, &c. to set forth his Dissolute, Amo­rous Conceptions: Let any man of Common Reason judge whether the Mindes of any Readers Vitiously in­clin'd, (and such surely are all those that delight in those POEMS) be not as apt to be wholly Debauch't, and Corrupted, by a Work of this Na­ture, as those mens Bodies are to take Infection, when they are amongst sick folke, who are already dispos'd to the Disease. Alas! alas! Are not men apt enough of themselves to be Vain in their imaginations! Must the Froath [Page] and Vanity of wanton Mindes bee wrought up, and increased by the VVit and Studies of such Learned Persons; and those owning the Name of CHRISTIANS! O Tem­pora! O Mores! I know very well what an Heavy Burthen of Anger and Hatred J am like to Vndergo for VVriting thus against a Book so gene­rally Applauded: But, whilst J Depend upon GOD, as J hope J shall ever do, J shall not sink under it. VVhenever J am Rail'd on, if J Hear not of it, 'tis Nothing to Me; if J do, 'tis the Ob­ject of My Patience, the Exercise whereof is the Delight of My Soul. As for such Censures as These, That I Envy Mr. COWLEY the Great Name Hee has of a POET, &c. My Answer is, l am so far from [Page] endeavouring to Detract from His Personal Reputation, that I shall o­penly confess, I should be more Impu­dent indeed, then many Virulent Tongues have Pronounced me, if I should not Acknowledge Him to be one of the most Learned, and Ingenious Persons, that ever J knew to have Written an English Verse. For my part, I confess, I had never the True Art of Poetry; I had once some In­clination towards it; which for want of Vse, I have now lost. As for those few Verses J have Printed, J have still the same Opinion of most of them, that J had at first: but some EPI­GRAMS (J confess) J finde up­on serious Consideration to be such (as to the Matter, with the Expression) that if any man Vpbraid mee with [Page] them, J shall be ready to say,

—Pudet haec opprobria nobis, &c.

Reader, Farewell: And Looke narrowly into what thou readest in these ensuing Leaves; which if thou dost, J doubt not but thou wilt find the Author such a one, as neither Courts thy Applause, nor Fears thy Cen­sures.

[woodcut of laboring folk]

Man that is born of a Woman, is of few dayes, and full of trouble,

Job 14. 1.
OUR Time's still Flying: and we all make hast
To Live our last.
We Come into the World to See't; and then
Go out agen.
We are born Crying, and we spend our Breath
In Sighs till Death.
Our Life is but a Toyle: ere we can Trie
What course of Life is best, 'tis time to Die.
The Merchant wasts himself with fretting Cares;
With Hopes and Feares:
And when his Baggs are fill'd, his Last Day comes;
He leaves his Summes.
[Page 2] When he would joy in what his Pains have got▪
Straight he is not.
By all the Care wherein his Life is spent,
Perhaps he gets a Costly Monument.
The Scholar bends his Curious Thoughts to find
What is the Mind.
He studies to Know Good, but seldome Does
The Good he Knowes.
Some winding up their wit to an High Straine,
Have crackt their Braine.
He that's most Learned, onely comes to this,
To Know at last how Ignorant he is.
The Ranting Gallant weares out Time and Cloathes,
To learn New Oathes:
He scorns to take Affron's, but thinks it Brave
To be Hell's Slave.
The Coontrey Farmer's thinking night and day
Of Corn and Hay.
But Hawkes and Houndes are for the better sort,
Who lose their Time in Seeking of their Sport.
In ev'ry Action, whatsoe're it is,
Something's amiss.
[Page 3] We ne're observe a Mean: we Run and Sweat,
Or can't get Heat.
Some Bitterness still interrupts our Joyes,
Or Too much Cloyes.
Our Choicest Comforts are inlay'd with Fears;
And all our Pleasures Sprinkled o're with Tears.
Amid'st this Trouble here's My Hope, that I
Shall shortly Die.
Our Time Ore-cast with Sorrow soon Decaies,
Like Winter-Dayes.
W'are Pilgrims here on Earth: This is our VVay,
No Place of Stay.
The VVay's unpleasant: Come, Death, be My Friend;
And bring Me quickly to My Journey's-End.

Preparation to the H. Communion.

FArewell Beloved Sins: I must be gone:
Nay, hold! I must!
Ah! how I Sigh, and Sob, and moane,
To leave each Lust!
I must not Live so Loose, as heretofore:
My Father Sayes that I shall Play no more.
He that made Wint, and Corne, would have us Dine
VVith Him to day:
VVhere we shall See our Soul's SUN shine;
And hear Him Say,
Here take my Flesh and Blood; come Drink and Eate:
To get You BREAD what Drops once did I Sweate?
But, oh Dear JESU, All my Raiment's torn,
I dare not Come.
My Feet I have defil'd this Morn;
They'l Foul thy Roome.
But Thee, LORD, I'le put on: So Thou shalt be
The Wedding-Garment, Bridegroome, Feast to Me.

That which I do, I allow not; for what I would, that do I not; but what I hate, that do I, Rom. 7. 15.

MY Mind keeps out the Host of SIN,
Sense lets 'em in:
I'th' Phant'sie, as i'th' Trojan Horse,
They Hide their Force,
[Page 5] Till Opportunity they find
To Sally, and Subdue the Mind.
My Childish Soul oft Cries for what
It straight doth Hate.
My Lusts, which Reason should Controul,
War 'gainst my Soul;
And having got the Victory,
Rom. 7. 23▪
Bring me into Captivity.
My Love against My Will is hurl'd
Upon the World:
I See not in the Dark. I know
Not what I Do,
When Sin besets me; so befool'd,
I hate to do even what I would.
O when shall my lost Soul Obtain
Her Selfe again▪
To Act Her own Hate, and Desire!
O Sacred FIRE!
Refine My Heart, and that it be
Kept Pure, O LORD, I give it Thee.

The SOUL's Lethargy, Or, No Sense of SIN.

MY Soul Sin-smitten feels no Blow! Struck down
She's in a Swoun!
Thus wrong'd, She can't Complain!
She lies Astonied, can't Call on
The GOD of Her Salvation,
To help her up again.
I'm Sick because I have no Pain: My Sore,
That's now Skinn'd ore,
Will Putrify, I fear:
My Soul hath lost Her Vital Heat,
True Zeal: Her Pulse gives ore to Beat,
As if her Death were near.
Mine Eyes are ope to Weep, not See: My Mind
Untranc'd I find,
Pierc'd with a Fiery Dart!
Ah! now I am Awak't again,
[Page 9] My Sense serves but to feel my Pain:
Fresh Sorrow gripes my Heart.
Lo! Gracious JESU! lo! How Sick am I!
How like to Die!
Maim'd by the Host of Hell!
Let but the Prince of Darkness Flye
Before the Lustre of Thine Eye;
I'le View Thee, and be well.

Her House is the way to Hell, leading down to the Chambers of Death, Prov. 7. 27.

HER House is the (next) way to Hell,
Satan's Strong-Hold: the Furies Cell.
There's Venom in her Sweetest Breath:
Her Tempting Hair's the Snare of Death.
The Flaming Beauty of Her Eyes
Is but the Devil's Sacrifice.
Her looks are Gaudy, but not Fine:
Her Clearest Beauties Blaze, not Shine.
O go not after her! Refrain
From seeking that whose Loss is Gain.
Vain Joyes, like Shades, Fly, when Embrac'd:
Such Paint, when Toucht, is straight Defac'd.
Such Sweets of Love let me Decline,
They are but Poyson Drunk in Wine.
Lusts sparkling Flame, to Wild-Fire turns;
Such Boistrous Heat warms not, but Burns.
Beware the Siren when She Sings:
Bees full of Honey have their Stings.

CHRIST's Death.

THis day Prest with our Sins, the MOST HIGH Fell.
Least he should Feed on Us, Christ Satiates Death
With his own Bloud: Quenching the Flames of Hell,
Enkindled by the Fire of's Fathers Wrath.
To make Atonement for our Sins GOD Dies:
Our Jesus is GOD, Priest, and Sacrifice.
Lo, how the hasty Jews cry Crucifie!
Lo, how they judge the Holy One to Death!
Whose Attribute is Immortality!
Lo, how they murther Him who gave them Breath:
The King of Glory suffers Shame; and He
That Made the World is Hang'd upon a Tree.
Lo, how they Naile unto the Cross His HANDS.
Who Spans the Heavens! how his Feet they Pierce,
Who over Hell and Death Triumphant stands:
Whose boundless Presence fills the Universe!
How the ALMIGHTY ev'ry Varlet scorns;
Lo, He by whom Kings Reign, is Crown'd with Thorns.
And now the Souldier with his Cruel Spear
Dares Pierce the Side of the blest Prince of Peace:
His Torments are so great as Man can bear,
The Angry God-head will not make them less:
[Page 9] When he thought that stood off, Grief fill'd his Heart:
Curst Sin! for which GOD and CHRIST seem'd to Part!
He Bow'd his head, on which so Heavy lay
The Sins of Adam, and all Adam's Seed;
Which by his Death He did Revive this Day;
To heal our wounded Souls his Limbs did Bleed.
Lord, I believe, let me partaker be
Of Thy Deaths Power, that I may Live to Thee.


OUR LORD is Risen; and the Powerful Grave
Holds him no longer; He hath made his way
Even through the Gates of Death, that He might save
His Heav'nly Flesh from turning into Clay.
The Grave knew not whom he had taken; when
He saw who 'twas, he let Him out agen.
Upon this Day the SUN's Creator Rose,
And the Eternal LIFE came from the Dead:
He that made Ours, did His blest Eyes Unclose,
And saw the Place where his own Corps were lay'd.
Death Conquer'd thus, He lay'd his Grave-Cloaths by,
As Trophees of his Signal Victory.
I know not whether may more strange be thought,
For GOD to Die, or MAN to Rise agen:
Our Holy JESUS made both True: He Fought
The Lion Death even in the Grave, his Den.
And thus he Enter'd the Strong Bounds of Fate,
Not as Led Captive, but to Captivate.
The King of Terrors now has lost his Power,
And is become a Servant unto all,
Who will but imitate their SAVIOUR,
Who made a Triumph of his Funerall.
And now Hee's up, me thinks I hear him Say
To all that Die in Him, Rise, come away.


VVHo on the Water Walk't, now Climbs the Air;
And without Dying, thus He goes to Heaven:
Although His Habitation now be there,
Yet we on Earth are not of Him bereaven.
He's like those Lights which in the Skies appear,
Though there His Body be, His Raies are here.
Now He's Ascended up on high, lo, He
Gives us His Hand that we may get up too:
By Him our Strength, we VValk, our Light, we see:
He makes us Able, Shews us vvhat to Do.
[Page 13] To Heaven Hee's gone for us there to Provide.
Blest they whose GOD's their Harbinger, and Guide.
Look up, My Soul, (and with blest STEPHEN) See
Thy JESUS Standing on th'right hand of God.
And then think Earth too meane a Place for thee,
VVhom He Redeem'd with his most pretious Blood.
Sweet JESU, Thou vvast pleas'd to Buy me, Come,
(I'm not the World's but Thine) and Fetch Me Home.

The Loyns of the Minde Girded: or An Holy Vow.

THere is a GOD! My Soul, how durst thou Stray!
Thou'lt Meet His Vengeance if thou go this way!
Return! Return! lo, this Path seems too Broad:
Here Many goe: the VVay to Heaven's no Road.
My Soule, put on thy Garments: Gird them fast:
'Twill make thee Comely, thus to go Straight-lac't.
And now I am Resolv'd: in spight of Hell,
And my False Heart, I'le still strive to Do well.
In all my Warfare I'le Hold fast My SHIELD.
Then Satan Do thy worst, Ile win the Field.

Sinful Dreams.

THE Prince of Darkness loves to Fight
Our Souls by Night.
That Black Old Serpent often Creeps
Ore one that Sleeps:
As Vipers often Crawle upon
Men Sleeping in the Shade at Noon.
SIN (like a Thiefe) comes in by Day
Some secret way,
And Lurks (Hid from True Reasons' Eye)
I'th' Phantasie,
'Till Sleep makes Us secure and quiet,
Then breaks forth, and Commits the Riot.
Come, My Dear GOD, and Lodge thou in My Breast,
That when My Body Sleeps, My Soul may Rest.

The BACKSLIDERS Recantation; Or, A Farewel to the World.

FAlse-hearted World farewel! go to▪ I find
Thee too unkind:
[Page 13] I took thee for a Friend, did love to Play
With thee all day:
But thou didst cog the Dice: I (to my shame)
Lost every Game:
Thy Stakes were Pleasures, and deceitful Toys:
Mine were True-coine, full weight, large, Solid Joys.
Now thou hast got all that I had, I see,
Thou slightest mee.
Thou wast wont to embrace me kindly; and
Give me thy Hand.
With many promises of Love, but Lo!
Thou art my Fo!
Though all my Serious Thoughts (good Company)
(Fool that I was!) I left to follow Thee.
But I'le Return to Them again: I'le rome
No more from Home:
The Mind that Staies within shall ne're complain
Of Wind or Rain,
Of Care or Grief: for Storms shake onely Breasts
That seek their Rests
Without doors, where is nought but Toile; as though
To be kept warm, they'de lie on Beds of Snow:
Great God! I leave the World, and come To Thee:
Open to Mee.
I Knock! O let me Find thy Throne of Grace,
I Seek thy Face!
[Page 16] I'le Dye to sin, put off My self, and then
Be Born agen.
Christ's Bloud shall be my Life. The WORD (that can
Call up the Dead) is Breath to the New Man.

I am a sinful Man!

BAd Thoughts, like Swarms of Flyes infest
My Corrupt Brest!
Each Op'ning of my heart lets in
Some Treach'rous Sin!
My best Intents are Pale, and wan
Like the Old Man!
And thus my wretched Mind is still
Remiss to Good, or Bent to Ill.
These are my Hidden Sins: but oh!
They quickly grow
To Outward Acts: Vain Words and Deeds
Spring from these Seeds.
VVith these Materia's Satan tries
To Build up Vice.
VVhich is the Storehouse of all Sin:
Our Adversaries Magazine.
Pluck out the Serpent ere it Wind
Into thy Mind:
[Page 15] A Vitious Temper's Sin, all ore
A Putrid Sore;
From which, Streams of Corruption
Do daylie Run;
Physician search my Heart, and see
What Kind of Sore thus troubles Mee.
All my Diseases, LORD, discry:
Thy Blessed Eye
Heals all thou Com'st to See; whose Beams
Will dry the Streams
Of these Ill Humours, and dispell
The Mists of Hell:
The Dark Fumes of all Fond Desires,
Smoak rising up from Lustfull Fires.
I must confess, I have long bin
The Slave of Sin.
But Righteous Judge, now set me Free,
And Ile Serve Thee:
I have Rebell'd, I have withstood
My King my God!
But LORD that Bill, which Justice brings to thee,
Blot with the Blood which thou didst shed for mee.

A Foule Morning; or, The Young Converts Doubts, &c. Help thou mine Unbelief. Mark 9. 24.

HElp Master of my Faith! I'm forc'd to Winke
At this Bright Truth! in these great Depths I Sink!
O! 'tis beyond my reach, I cannot Tread:
Nor can I Swimme unless thou Hold my Head!
My Reason's at a stand! Thus are Thy Wayes
Past finding out! How Dazling are Thy Rayes
(O SUN of RIGHTEOUSNESS) to Humane Sight?
Like Thy Great Convert, I can't See for Light!
Thou Shin'dst about me, and I straight was Blinde!
On Thee I thought, and straight I lost my Minde!
Stretcht out to compass Thy Vast Truths, it broke!
My Hot Zeal Flash't, and so it turn'd to Smoke!
My Joyes are chang'd to Doubts and Fears, which roul
Like stormy Billowes in my Wav'ring Soul!
Shine forth my SUN▪ amidst these Showers of Tears,
Let thy Clear Beams pierce through these Clouds of Fears!
Shew me Thy Hidden Manna! Angels Food!
I long to Tast and See that thou art Good?
I'm Come to See Thee LORD, though Vile, and Poor,
O let me in! Ile die else at thy Door!

Nemo repente fuit turpissimus.

ARs Magni Sceleris Gradus requirit:
Hujus nec citò fit Magister Artis.
Tardè provehitur Nefas, Malorum
Quicquid Ponderibus suis gravatur.
[Page 17] ANGUIST artarei Propage repit,
N [...] vellet rapidos movere gressus.
Nè Mentem vitio exci [...]et * Stupentem
Sic L [...]ntè Sc [...]eris Venena Peraunt
Humanas Animas: Premunt (que) laesas
Crudis Vulneribus, Lev [...]s dolores.
GReat Sins don't Leap, but Creep into the Heart:
No man can straight be Master o'th' Black Art.
Those Evills go on Slowly to their Height,
Which carry with them a more Pondrous weight,
Th' Old Serpent's off-spring never use to Run,
Temptations come on Softly: Men would shun
Their Fierce Approach. Thus Vice Soul-poyson's known
Seldome to have quick Operation.
Thus as in Body, so in Mind tis true;
The Grief's but little, whilst the VVound is New.

Interioris Hominis Suspiria. Video aliam legem in Membris meis, &c.

ME Miserum? Variis torquentur Pectora Votis:]
Distrah [...]t Affectus Lex ea Dupla meos!
Sic Divisa capit geminum Mens aegra Dolorem
Lex poscit poenas utra (que) laesa suas!
Servulus infoelix Peccati Vapulo! Flagris
(Heu miser!) Infestis Oscula saepe dedi.
Sc [...]cet ingratum temerè sinus accipit ANGUEM;
Auro splendenti nigra Venena bibo:
Deliciis Premo [...] ipse meis: scelerísque nefandi
(Blandulus hic Ignis!) Lambit & Urit amor!
Eheu! Captivum mea me trahit us (que) voluptas!
Excruciant animum Gaudia prava meum!
Hostas & ipse mihi, Victus, Captus (que) Triumph [...]
Ingemit at spoliis mens mea sana suis!
[Page 18] Vulnera tot passus mea Vulnera respice JESU?
Ut mea sanentur, Tu Mihi redde Tua!
Corda Tuo mundes proprio foedata Cruore!
Tu mihi da Pacem, Ms Deus, ipse tuam!

I see another Law in my members, warring against the Law of my mind, &c. Rom. 7. 23.

VVRetch that I am! My Wishes are my Pain,
Two Laws so different rend my Heart in twain!
My Heart Divided Bleeds in either part!
Offending either Law I'm sure to Smart!
Inslav'd to sin I'm forc'd to bear this Yoke,
I Kiss the Rod ev'n whilst I feel the stroak!
Th' ungrateful SERPENT in my brest I warm!
How I quaff Poyson! and embrace my harm!
My Pleasure is my Trouble; and the Heat
Of Fond Desire what is't but a cold Sweat?
Alas! I'm taken with the baits of SIN!
Those corrupt joys but feed the Worm within!
I Triumph when my heart me Pris'ner takes:
My mind is griev'd thus at the spoyle it makes!
O JESU! for me wounded, see My Wound!
Give me thy Bruises that I may be sound!
With thy Blood wash my Heart in Bloud Imbrude!
Give me that Peace which may this War conclude!

Wherewithall shall a young man cleanse his way? By ta­king heed thereto according to thy Word, Psal. 119. 9

HArken young men, and here you may
Find out a clean and safer Way.
[Page 19] If you go there, Fall sure you will:
For Filthy ways are Slipp'ry still.
Be but Schoold by God's Law, and then
You'l nere Run in the Dirt agen:
You'l Wash your Garments in the Bloud
O'th' Prince of Peace, the Lamb of God.
Out of this Wilderness of Sin
These Crooked Ways, which now y' are in,
Gods Word, that Fiery Pillar can,
If Follow'd, lead to Canaan.
This is the Star, which in the Night
Of Sin and Death, will give you Light:
Tis onely This, Young men, can tell
How to avoid the Gates of Hell.
Eye well this Lamp, this Leading Fire,
'Twill bring you quite out of the Mire:
If you go on, and wont beware,
You'l surely Sink, and Perish there.

BACKSLIDING. I have sinned!

THese Offerings of Uncleanness Foul
That Glorious IMAGE in my soul,
The Picture of my LORD, which he
(Lim'd in his Blood) once gave to Me!
These Works of Darkness do Benight
My Inward man, that walkt in Light.
But now (alas!) I go astray!
'Tis Dark: I cannot see the WAY!
The Comforts once I had, are gone;
As if the Holy DOVE were Flown.
She loves VVhite-houses; stayes not in
A House of Clay, Defil'd with Sin:
But sure she Hovers ore my Brest;
Like Birds that find a Snake i'th' Nest.
The DOVE vvill come again, no doubt,
VVhene're the SERPENT is throvvn out.
O LORD, Restore to me thy Grace!
I hope Thou didst but Hide thy Face.
O JESU! do but Look on Me,
Like Peter I'le VVeep bitterlie!
By thy Bright Face shew me my Stain,
Ile pour forth Tears to wash it clean.
I hope the DAY will come again anon:
The SUN of RIGHTEOUSNES is Set, not Gone.


AH me! how soon my Soul takes VVing and Flies
At ev'ry thing she spies,
Some Impress ev'ry Object makes upon
My Soft Affection.
Sometimes I Relish Heavenly Manna, then
I lose my Tast, and turn to Husks agen.
The Dainties of this World I'd fain enjoy,
But Tasted, straight they Cloy.
Sometimes Good Conscience bids me be a Guest
At her Continual Feast:
VVith her I find Content; but straight I'm gone,
Call'd out to Speak with some Temptation.
Satan Bewtiches me: I cannot Stirre,
Though I'm Uneasie here.
I know 'tis pleasant to do well, but still
I covet to do ill.
My Actions are Themselves the Pain they merit;
My Thoughts are all Vexation of Spirit.
O my BELOVED, that my soul might be
More Constant unto Thee▪
O that my Brest had Vestal Flames! that I
Might love Continually:
Lord open thou mine Eyes, that I may see
Thy Glorious Face, Ile look on nought but Thee.

Peccatum Redivivum: Or, The Rebellion of a Conquer'd Lust.

THis Sore breaks out agen! shall Death and Hell
Be still in hopes! And shall I ne're be well?
Thus some at their Uprising Die; some may
Like Judas, at Christ's Table Fall away.
O LORD, put forth thy Hand: O GOD, make hast
To help me, or I shall Fall back at last.
Lo, JESU, how I bleed afresh! Lo, I,
Unless Thou Close my wounds, shall Faint, and Dyel▪
My Sense begins to fail: my Heart is grown
So Cold (O Lord) as Ice, so Hard as Stone:
Which with a Coale from off thine Altar Thavv,
And Unbenumme, that it may Feel thy Lavv;
That by its Stroakes I may be vvak't from Sin,
That novv I may be griev'd for vvhat I've bin.
Thus vvith thy Physick, Lord, recover me,
That I may have an Appetite to thee,
VVho art the Bread of life. O let me cease
To long for that vvhich feeds but the Disease.
Tis onely Thou, my God, canst make me vvhole!
Tis onely Thou canst cure my Dying Soul!
Refresh me (O let me not be deny'd!)
Even vvith that VVater vvhich came from thy Side.

A Dialogue between a Carnal Man, and a Peni­tent Sinner.

COme, leave these Melancholly Fits:
They'l put thee quite out of thy Wits.
When thou art Old, thou mayst have leisure
To Grieve: now take thy fill of pleasure.
Let Bacchus, and sweet Venus too
With their Fresh Garlands Crown thy Brow.
That it may be kept Smooth and Fair,
That Sorrow make no Wrinkles there.
In Mirth pass all this time away:
Come don't make Winter of thy May.
Now whilst it is thy Ages Spring,
Thou shouldst learn with the Birds to Sing:
Reserve thy Tears, and Sighs and Groans,
For Old dim Eyes, and Aking Bones.
My Sadness is no Melancholly:
I'm then most Merry, when least Jolly.
My Pleasure is to Grieve for Sin:
Hence 'tis that I so soon begin.
Besides, My friend, we seldom see
A Crooked Plant, prove a straight Tree.
Ile not obey that Ranting God,
Which makes men Stutter, Reel, and Nod.
Fond Venus Bird (I dread such Love)
Looks like a Vulture, not a Dove.
If of Her Fire one Spark appear,
Ile Quench it with a Pious Tear.
Now is my Ages Spring I know;
Now is the Time for Grace to Grow.
When Age with Pain shall fill my Bones,
And turn my shortned Breath to Groans.
Ile think it but an Aking Head,
And straight I shall be call'd to Bed.
1. Go, Zelot: Christian Liberty
Allows us all to be more Free:
The way to Heaven is broader, then
'Tis said to be by Pulpit-men.
Those Black Coats are meer Rocks, they tell
Strange Stories of the Devil and Hell,
They, say so many go astray,
'Cause they'd be Hir'd to shew the way:
Those Big-words which they throw about,
Are onely fit to Scare the Rout.
I'le Care not what Precisians say,
But Swallow all the joyes I may.
2. My Friend, True Christian Liberty
Wo'nt make us Loose, though't make us Free.
VVe are not bound vvith any Chain:
VV'are Girt for Ornament, not Pain.
VVe may VValk, but we must not Stray:
VV'are onely Bound to keep our VVay.
The Liberty, you boast, is none,
But to Run to Destruction.
VVhilst you abhor to be Precise,
And Gallop in the Road of Vice,
You Laugh, like Mad men in your Pains:
And love the Chinking of your Chains.
Beware of speaking ill of Those,
VVho Hidden Manna do disclose:
Who Handle the Two-Edged Sword,
Even the ALMIGHTY's Powerful Word;
Which if it Search not, to make Sound,
Will give you an Eternal Wound.
1. What Countrey-parson told thee so?
VVhy speakst thou what thou dost not know?
VVho knowes but when our Bodies Die,
Our Souls Die too? therefore will I
The Pleasures of this VVorld to VVin,
Nere stick at that, vvhich Fools call Sin.
2. That is, Thou art Resolv'd to be
Thine ovvn Soul's Mortall Enemie.
What thou callst Pleasure, is but Baite:
Thus thou lov'st Death, and hug'st thy Fate.
Those Comforts, vvhich in Sin vve find,
At first Embrace, then Stab the Mind.
When Svvarmes of Thoughts buz in thy Brain,
When thy Head's full of Cares and Pain;
When thou liest Tossing on thy Bed,
Then think of Me, and vvhat I've said.

To All those that Name the Name of CHRIST.

Ah! Love that JESUS, who once Die'd for You:
And, if you Love Him, what He Bids You, Do.
Qui Vitam posuit pro Te, Tu Dilige CHRISTUM:
DILECTI semper Fac quo (que) Jussa Tui.

O that my wayes were directed to keep thy sta­tutes, Ps. 119. 5.

O That I could stand firm at last;
And not be reeling to, and fro!
O that J could My GOD Hold Fast,
And never, never let Him go!
How often do J go astray,
And leave my Rest, my wonted Bliss!
Like a Lost Sheep in the High VVay,
Which Dangerous and Barren is.
J have no Pleasure in my Sin,
And yet J Act it o're and o're!
J'me still the same that J have bin,
Though fain I would be so no more!
J long to Keep the Law of GOD,
But still J Break it to my Pain!
My Stomack serves to take that Food,
But straight J cast it up again.
My GOD! O take me unto Thee,
With Fire-Hot Zeal Melt Thou my Heart;
That now I may New-Moulded bee,
And made sound in my Better Part.
LORD, Lead me by thy Grace, that I
May never Wander from Thee more:
Thou art My LIFE, I cannot Die:
Thou art My All; I can't be Poor.

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.