THE Ages of Sin, or Sinnes Birth & groweth. With the Stepps, and Degrees of Sin, from thought to finall Impenitencie.
Suggestion.
Originall-Concupiscence Doth make
Our Nature like a foule great-Bellyed Snake:
For, wer not Sathan apt to tempt to Sin;
Yett, Lustfull-Thoughts would breed & brood, Within:
But, happie, Hee, that takes These Little-Ones,
To Dash their Braines (Soone) 'gainst repentant-St [...]nes.
Rumination
When lust hath (thus) Conceiu'd It brings forth Sin,
And Ruminating-thoughts Its Shape begin.
Like as the Beares oft-licking of her whelps.
That foule deformed Creatures Shape much helps.
The dangers great, our Sinfull thoughts to Cherish,
Stop thire growth, or thy poore Soule will perish.
DELECTATION.
If, Sinfull Thoughts (once) nestle in mans heart,
The Sluce is ope, Delight (then) playes its part:
Then, like the old-Ape hugging in his armes,
His Apish-young-One; Sin, the Soule becharmes
And, when our Apish impious-Thoughts delight us
Oh, then, (alas) most mortally They bite us.
CONSENT.
For, where Sin workes Content, Consent will follow;
And, This, the Soule, into Sins Gulfe, doth swollow.
For, as two ravning Wolves (for, tis theire kinde)
To suck Lambs-blood, doe hunt with equall-minde:
Even so, the Soule & Sin Consent, in One,
Till, Soule & Body be quite overthrowne.
Act.
Sin and the Soule [...]us, ha [...]ing stricken Hands,
The Sinner (now) for Action ready stands;
And Tyger-like, swollowes-up, at One-bitt,
What euer impious Prey his H [...] doth fitt
Committing Sin, with eager [...]
Selling his Soule [...]
Iteration.
From eager-Acting Sin, comes Iteration,
Or, frequent Custome of Sins perpetration;
Which, like great Flesh-Flies liting on ra [...]-Flesh,
Though oft beat-off, (if not kild) come afresh:
Hence, Be'lzebub is term'd Prince of fflesh-fflies,
'Cause Sin, still, Acts, vntill (by Grace) It Dies.
GLORIATION.
Custome in Sin takes Sense of Sin away,
This makes All-Sin seeme but a Sport, a play:
Yea, like a rampant-Lyon, proud and Stout,
Insulting, o're his Prey, staulking about,
The Saucy-Sinner boasts & braggs of Sinne,
As One (oh woe) that doth a Citty winne...
Obduration.
When Sinne brings Sinners to this fearefull pass,
What followes, but a hard Heart-Brow of brass?
A Heart (I say) more hard then Tortess-back,
Which, nether Sworde nor Axe can hew or hack;
Iudgements nor Mercies, Treats nor threats can cause
To leave-off Sin, To Love or feare Gods Lawes.
FINALL-IMPENITENCY.
And (now, alas) what is Sins last Extent?
A hard-Heart makes a Heart Impenitent.
For, can a Leopard change his Spotted Skin?
No Nor a Heart accustom'd (thus), his Sin.
Then, Conscience, headlong, casts Impenitence.
With horrid ffrights of Hellish Recompence.