A SACRED POEM OF THE Glory and Happiness OF HEAVEN.
By J. Shute
LONDON, Printed in the Year MDCLXXXIX.
THE GLORY and HAPPINESS OF HEAVEN.
ABove the tallest most exalted View
When stretcht and lifted up by Opticks too;
Above the Convex of this Azure Vault
So out of sight we can't tell what to call't,
High above all that our Conceits can reach
When sublimated to their utmost stretch,
There is, what we call Heav'n, a joyous State
Too happy for a Guess to calculate:
The greatest Riches that a Miser's Dream
E're conjur'd up to tempt and flatter him
The most of Honour that a Monarchs Court
Can give those Men that hunt and rival for't,
The rarest Scenes that raptur'd Saints have view'd
When Fancy wrought in a Prophetick Mood,
Fall infinitely short of Heav'n, and can't
Yield Joys enough to treat or tempt a Saint:
He to whose Palate nothing suits but Bliss
Can't relish such ignoble Fare as this:
Alas his noble Soul can't stoop to esteem
Things so inglorious and unworthy him.
Heav'n has more Glory couch'd within a Point
Than all this worthless scanty World has in't;
'Tis guarded round with double Walls of Gold
As hard to force as stately to behold,
The Batteries which Damned Spirit's make
Can't Scale its Bulwarks nor its Pillars shake
Their Hellish Engines spend their Strength in vain
For Bullets shot do but rebound again;
The gay Embroid'ry of the Place invites
All Admiration, and the gaudy Sights
Which charm the Eye on ev'ry side proclaim
The Pow'r and Skill of him that wrought the same:
'Tis garnish'd round with Light, and blazon'd all
With those bright Rays which from Gods Image fall,
Thrones and Dominions here in order stand
Rankt in their Stations like a charging Band;
Mansions like Leaves in their Autumnal Falls
Lye scatter'd up and down on Pedastalls;
Above hang Canopies of vast Extent
Propt by the Pow'r of God Omnipotent;
Scepters and Crowns of costly sorts here are
Rank't and enshrin'd like Magazines of War;
Pearls, Rubies and Diamonds in Clusters shine
And hang like Grapes upon a fruitful Vine;
The bright Piazza's of the Palace Court
Are pav'd with Rubies of the richer sort;
Three Royal Thrones all curiously wrought
Carv'd by the Skill of an Almighty Thought
Are fix'd on a commanding Place, wherein
The Father, Son, and Spirit Sit and Reign
Their Crowns are charg'd with richer Pearls and more
Than India yields or ever Aaron wore;
And being triple-shap'd they do imply
The deep-lay'd Myst'ry of the Trinity;
In Godhead these are One, in Will the same,
Yet Three in Personality and Name.
The Fathers Looks are so divine, his Face
Bears in its Visage such Majestick Grace,
That 'tis a Happiness it self compleat
To be enabled to contemplate it:
His aspect is so gravely great, and shews
So much of Deity to him that views,
That 'tis a Question manag'd in Disputes
Which do's it most This, or his Attributes;
He's happy in himself, and's Creatures are
Happy so far as they his Image bear.
The Prospect of his Glory shines as bright
In Hellish Darkness, as in Heavens Light,
He do's enjoy his happy self as well
Amidst the daring Blasphemies of Hell
As the Saints Songs, but he has praise of Them
Because they bless themselves in blessing Him:
He is to them both Theatre and Stage
And all they act is in his Personage
His Self-sufficiency compleatly fills
His Breast with Goodness, some of which distills
In Drops of Love on all his Works, but this
Is only what o'reflows from his Abyss:
The Son the Second of the Three appears
Bright with that Glory which his Image bears;
His Throne is such as He that fills it, none
Can fancy to be less than Three in One.
The Host salute him God and joyntly sing
Hosannah's to their Prophet, Priest, and King;
That yet these Functions are in act is true
For Honour's paid him to each Office due.
He's Prophet for his Spirit do's reveal
The dark Intendments of his Fathers Will
And working with his Word affords us Light,
That shews us all the deep Designs of it.
He's Priest and makes an Altar of his Throne
To offer up the Church her Prayers on,
His Intercession makes an Off ring good
When hallow'd with the Merits of his Blood.
He's King, this by his Scepter may be guest
Besides his Presence speaks him such at least;
His Church on Earth entitles him Supream
And all Heav'ns Hierarchies second them.
Embroider'd thus with Offices, and drest
With all that speak one Beautiful or Blest,
He sits enthron'd and naked to the View
Of those that wonder and adore him too.
The Holy Ghost the Last in Order shews
Himself as great as Son or Father do's.
His Presence is Divine his looks do own
A Grandeur proper to a God alone:
The Beauty of his Image do's express
A shining, pure, untainted Holiness;
His Graces sweeter Odours do present
Than e're Arabia from her Spices sent
The Gifts wherewith he is embalm'd descry
The Sweetnesses that in his Nature lye
The Grace and Greatness of his Presence draws
The Eyes of all Spectators, where they pause
Not out of Fear but Wonder while they see
So much of Sweetness, Love, and Majesty:
Before these Thrones the whole Celeftial throng
Do Homage, Couching as they dance along,
Where each devoutly on his bended Knee,
Lauds the distinct, but undivided Three;
The Fathers mighty Will and matchless Pow'r
Are what in Him they most of all adore;
The Saints rejoyce in these because they know
These made them happy and will keep them so.
They bless that Word whose mighty sound awoke,
Dull lifeless Nothing to a World, and spoke
A lumpish Chaos to a curious Frame,
And still has govern'd and upheld the same.
They reverence his Greatness most, and bow
To the grave Grandeur of his Godly Brow.
Their low respectful postures plainly prove
Their filial Sense of his Paternal Love.
They praise his Works below and sing them forth
In Numbers measur'd to express their Worth,
But when they view those Instances of Love,
That make more Figure in his Works Above;
When they survey the whole Celestial Sphere
And paraphrase on all the Wonders there,
They tune to higher strains and make their praise,
Keep pace with what Deserts its Object has.
So then Gods Power most applauded seems
Nay 'tis the Burden of their Sacred Hymns.
The Sons Perfections they as much proclaim
Couching in Homage to his Sacred Name.
They honour him as Soveraign, and own
How much they hold by Vertue of his Crown;
They Stile him Prince of Peace, and all accord
In dutiful Allegiance to their Lord;
His Name of Saviour sounds so sweet to all
It makes their Raptures Epidemical.
His bright unmantled Glory spreads it's Rays
And heats their spirits to delight and praise.
Some his Humility extol, and some
His Love that made Man from his Mansion come.
Some his Example, some his Doctrine bless,
Some his Compassion, some his Holiness;
All joyn his Incarnation to adore
That Blessing which begat ten thousand more.
Thus all in tributary Songs applaud
Their Prophet, Priest, their King and God.
The Holy Ghost whose Godhead is the same
Has Adoration proper to his Name.
Those of his Excellences that appear
In's Gifts and Graces most applauded are.
Some bless him for those first Convictive Calls
That kindly warn'd them against After-falls.
Some for Converting Grace from whence they had
Good Habits giv'n to supersede the Bad.
Some for his Promises that banish't Cares
And taught their Faith to overcome their Fears.
Some for his Testifying Seal that gave
Assurance of the Joys they hop'd to have.
Some for the Comforts of his Presence here
Which cheer'd their Hearts whate're their Sorrows were,
Which after Tryal of their Faith did quite
Take off the Cross or make it sit but light.
Some honour this, some That Grace most of All,
Yet their discordant Praise is musical;
For all in one harmoniously close
As diff'ring Musick in a Chorus do's.
Thus Three in One and One in Three receive
The pers'nal Homage Holy Spirits give;
But tho' They are distinctly blest, no One
Has Praise for what the other Two have none;
Neither in Glory or in Might excels
But in Perfection they are Parallels.
Yet this Description is not with Design
To grasp the Godhead nor its Bounds define;
To aim to scan or draw it out to view,
Would be Presumption and lost Labour too:
Who knows how God's distinctly Three in One
And One in Three without Division?
Who understands and will explain to me
This num'rous One and yet unnumbred Three?
'Tis too Mysterious for our Faith to clear,
He that believes must never reason here.
'Tis Riddle to the Saints and little less
To the deep Insight of an Angel's Guess.
Oh topless Pile of Mysteries! its Height
Is undiscoverably out of Sight.
Our Reason when it proudly tries to view
Quickly grows giddy and confounded too:
'Tis too much Light for Mortal Eyes to bear,
'Tis inaccessibly Divine and clear;
I aim not then by this descriptive Guess
To found the Depth of what is bottomless.
If any Verse shall make the Riddle known
Some Angel-Laureat must drop it down;
This Height will keep its Mystick Distance still
In spight of Reason's counter-charming Skill;
Since then the more I look the less I see
Of what in Mercy is conceal'd from me,
I'le henceforth plainly take the Three in One
And mean them All when I name God alone.
But as the Deity can ne're admit
A Short-arm'd Human Thought to fathom it,
So punctually to copy out the Bliss
Which to the Saints in Heaven dispenced is,
Is more than Reason's able to direct
Me to perform or any to expect;
In Nature's Search we to the Cause advance
Before we can inform our Ignorance;
To judge of Acts we must their Objects know,
Else as unlearn'd as when we came we go.
So to proportion out the boundless Love,
That is imparted to the Blest Above;
We ought to understand the Fountain whence
These happy Souls derive their Influence.
What's in th' Effect is in the Cause be sure,
Streams won't run muddy if the Spring be pure.
First to know God do's necessary seem
To know the Happiness of Souls in Him,
But Spirits are so exquisitely fine
They scape our Notices and pass unseen;
And if our Reason can't discourse of These
Who knows what God the Father of them is?
So then I'le only speak my Thoughts and give
This loose Account of what the Blest receive;
The Throne Imperial is encompass'd round
With Guardian-Angels to their Stations bound;
These glitt'ring Courtiers all of Royal Blood
Seem by their Services to credit God;
Each in the Brightness of his Glory spreads
More Rays of Lustre than proud Phoebus sheds,
But yet those Beams in which they shine so bright
Are all reflected from Diviner Light.
They borrow all their Beauty which would soon
Decline and fade if God should hide his own.
Their diff'rent Orders comlily agree
And joyntly make a graceful Symmetry.
All know their Distance and devoutly give
To God the Rights of his Prerogative:
Next these there do's another Order wait
Of Beings less insufferably great,
I mean the Saints whose Faith and Patience sought
This Purchase which their Elder Brother bought;
Whose thrifty Stewardship of Talents gain'd
These large Possessions in the Holy Land;
Of These, the Patriarchs (from whom proceed
The num'rous Offspring call'd the Holy Seed)
With all their pious Progeny beset
Are here in Universal Council met.
Hard by assembled in a spatious Sphere
The grave Society of Prophets are;
These are a Sage Prognosticating Race
Exalted by the Chymistry of Grace,
Above the Vulgar Saints; their Office proves
Them more Divine by two or three Removes.
They sit all clad in the Mysterious Dress
Of Hieroglyphick Schemes and Images,
The Pageantry of their Prophetick Dreams
Is painted in their Robes, the Mystic Schemes
Of Types and Visions drawn in Perspective,
Make pictur'd Things seem to the Eye alive:
Thus gayly drest in party-colour'd Plumes
They sit like Limners in their Image-Rooms:
By these as near as Order will permit
The grave Apostles in a Synod meet.
These by their Presence would be guess'd to be
Committee-Saints or Patres Patriae;
Hard by the Martyr'd Champions of the Cross
That dy'd least Life should be a publick Loss,
Whose Courage to the Death unshaken stood
And wrote their Cause in Characters of Blood.
Rang'd in Battalia joyfully advance
Their dear bought Spoils of Faith and Patience.
These and a thick innumerable Host
Swarming throughout the whole Celestial Coast,
Stand all devoutly ready to fulfil
The welcom Orders of their Makers Will:
And they are done just as they are embrac't
With a most Zealous Cautionary Hast;
'Tis neither base nor servile to submit,
They work Gods Will and will in working it;
No Time nor Strength is in a Message spent
The Errand's done as soon's the Saint is sent;
Thus God and They are pleas'd in that as soon
As his Design is known to Them, 'tis don:
Nor do's their Zeal in Ministring decline
Its strength is Energetic and Divine;
It knows no Chills and is from Pauses free
There acting where 'twould always active be;
Thus the Employments which they here pursue
Are both their Business and Diversion too:
Delight is all they know, here's only That
For Souls to feed upon and center at:
They find a happy Welcome here, and are
Enobled for the Dignities they wear.
Their Souls and Bodies are refin'd and freed
Of those Infirmities Corruption breed;
They both receive such great Improvements here
That they take leave of being what they were.
The Soul now fashion'd in a purer Mould
Finds its New-make more noble than the old.
Its Powers those of Intellect and Will
Are much improv'd by Glory's Chymic Skill;
Its Knowledge is not seconded with Fear
Or jealous Doubts of some Delusion near;
It learns but labours not nor is afraid
It shall forget what in it self is laid;
It knows by Intuition, and has got
The sweet Advantage of the Shorter Cut;
No cloudy Doubts do intercept its sight
'Tis now embodied in a Vest of Light.
Passion and prejudice are Things unknown
And Ignorance that Brand of Sin is gon.
Organs and Opticks now would match it ill,
Saul's Armour did but cumber David's Skill.
These do but cheat and give a faithless Light
Just like an Ignis Fatuus in the Night,
Which treacherously leads the Pilgrim on
Pretending Kindness when it means him none.
It needs no painful searches to descry
Where Truths tho' hid in Intricacy's lye,
For all in naked view and prospect sit
Unfolding ev'n they Secrecies to it.
It spies a series of Things without
A gradual Discourse to find them out.
It sees how amicably Truths cohere
How diff'rent Notions clash and interfere;
A Glance now brings more secrets on the Stage
Than the less-fruitful Studies of an Age;
Nor can Saints doubt or erre for what they know
Is sure in Object and in Subject too:
Their Souls too thirsty to accept a stream
Have here the Spring of Truth unlock't to them,
And ah! how joyfully they bathe herein
They drink till drinking makes them dry agen.
And sure this easie way of knowing can't
But aggravate the pleasures of a Saint;
To know himself to be directed right
By the sure Guide of undeceived Light,
To have all Cheats and Sophistry remov'd
And see each Truth by its Exemplar prov'd;
This cannot chuse but please him and the more
Because unhappy in his Doubts before.
Alas imperfect Knowledge here on Earth
Tho' [...] to gain and painful in the Birth:
Tho' mixt with Doubts and never sifted clean
But some perplexities still intervene,
Is thought the best Endowment Nature can
Give to compleat and gratifie a man.
'Tis true the search is long and far about
Yet when a latent Truth is started out
How comfortable is it then, how good
To make a few Reviews and chew the Cud!
This Men call Pleasure and pursue as such
But that of Saints surpasses it by much;
VVhat the Soul knows on Earth is hardly gain'd,
VVhat here, like Jacobs Venison comes to hand:
Here't has the Garb of Light wherewith 'tis clad
As cheap and easie as the Lillies had,
It never brings a Matter to debate
But knows it e're it can deliberate.
Alas their Knowledge is as quick and free
As the Conception of a Thought can be.
It takes the compass which their Fancies run
Whate're they VVill or wish to know is known.
The Soul thus purg'd from Ignorance and Sin
Is all Illumination within;
'Tis pleas'd in knowing how it knows and doth
Draw Plesure from the Mode and Object both.
Truth is its standing Banquet and the Feast
Has Plenty fitted for the greedy Guest.
The Understanding now awakned sees
The Truth of Things it thought false Prophecies.
A state of endless Pleasure once did seem
The fond Illusion of a sickly Dream:
Joys in Reversion were but gilded Lyes
And Heaven it self but some Fools Paradise;
And tho' Faith taught it some believing Skill
Yet Carnal Scruples kept it doubting still;
But now all faithless Jealousies are fled
And full Assurance introduc'd instead;
And Reason taught by what it has receiv'd
Owns with a Witness all it disbeliev'd;
The Will's now rectify'd and setled well
In that free happy Frame from whence it fell;
God's Goodness is its Object whose alone
Yields an Infinity to act upon.
How greedily it fastens here? it makes
Eternal seisure on the Good it takes.
It feeds as hungrily as if it knew
Some Famine would the present feast ensue,
And do's the Zeal of its Approaches prove
By the strong efforts of a sprightly Love.
It gapes as if it thought its Nature might
Suck in and swallow down the Infinite;
It clasps about him, grasps, and grasps agen
Still thrusting out it self to take him in.
Its passionate Embraces plainly shew
That 'tis enamour'd and transported too.
Thus 'tis employ'd and will for ever be
Raptur'd in one Eternal Extasie.
The Faculties of Soul being thus renew'd
Are ballanc'd to their proper Rectitude.
The Reason governs by prudential Skill
Ne're Taxes nor exacts upon the Will,
Its mild Decretals are embrac't so soon
As the least Intimation makes them known.
The Will train'd up on purpose to submit
Is wholly temper'd to comply with it;
No Prejudices interrupt its Choice,
No Passions bribe it to suspend its Voice,
But what its Guide enjoyns it strait obeys
Without the least exceptionary Pause.
The Reason's pleas'd that his proposals have
Such kind Acceptance from his willing Slave.
The Will is gladded too in that it knows,
Whate're unerring Wisdom shall propose
Must needs be good; and therefore loves to chuse
What would appear Self-murther to refuse.
Thus both are pleas'd and from their being so
Proceeds the greatest pleasure Spirits know.
The Fancy too has here a lovely Scene
Of beauteous Visions to entertain,
All Heavens Glories in one Object meet,
That all at once may always ravish it;
Nay 'tis delighted to so strange a Height
It has the Joys it can it self create:
Those tempting pleasures which a working Brain
Can paint in prospect to delude a man,
Their Fancy's here by an Almighty Pow'r
Can reallize; and raise ten Thousand more.
Thus 'tis employ'd Eternally to seize,
Some New-found-Lands of Joy and Happiness.
The Soul thus pure, the Body must be drest
To welcom in this Honourable Guest:
Which when the Dormitories shall resign
The Sacred Dust of Saints they did enshrine;
When Graves shall offer up their Dead and give
All to an Atom which they did receive,
Shall be accomplish't to the great Delight
Of all that view the Glory of the Sight;
The scatter'd Portions re-united then
Shall to their Bodies be compos'd agen.
Which being new-inform'd and nobler made
Shall re-assume the former Souls they had.
But no pale Face, no feeble Joynts presume
To enter, here no peccant Humors come
To usher Sickness in, no sense of pain
No Weaknesses or Lassitude remain;
All the Infirmities of Youth and Age
Are forc'd to vanish and decline the Stage.
For tho' the Body rose yet these must stay
Where the Soul left them when it fled away.
And here it do's a new Dimension gain
As glorious as its Nature can sustain;
A just proportion is to it assign'd
It leaves all gross ignoble parts behind;
Corruptions and Infirmities are gon
And a new livelier Image fastened on.
Consistency must always be its state
VVherein it shines pure and immaculate;
It can not Youth nor Age from Time receive,
But in Eternal Springs of Years shall live;
It lives, but to Declension ne're shall grow
Its budding Verdure shall no Autumn know.
Its Countenance do's such a freshness yield,
As baffles far the Glories of the Field.
Such Lights and Flames its Visage do's disperse
As would illuminate the Universe.
Its Senses also great Advancements gain
Fit for the Objects they must entertain:
Senses I call them still, but 'tis for want
Of Terms more proper and significant;
Nor do all these perhaps admittance find,
'Tis probable that some are left behind,
As Taste and Smell; but all do Hear and See
Else when shall Faith to Vision changed be?
VVhich Two I think are so endow'd that they
Have all their Imperfections purg'd away.
For if by Grace we're chang'd from what we were
VVhy should not Glory make such Changes here?
But whether here are Some, or All, or None
To own or not is free for any One.
This we believe, All Requisites concur
To make the Body glorious and pure.
Body and Soul thus dignified are drest
To solemnize a second Marriage Feast.
No jarring Faculties untune the Soul
But all conform to Reason's Musick Rule.
Its Thoughts are calm and find an easie Vent,
Its Passions are all Love and Merriment;
Its Humors even, sociable, and sweet,
Its Pleasures constant and intensely great;
Its Virtues all are consonantly tun'd
And dance in Consort when they run their Round.
No cross Propensions counterstrive within,
No stubborn Humors clash and intervene;
No Aversations cramp the Will's Decrees,
No Stops arrest it in its Purposes.
But all such civil Altercations cease
And usher in an universal Peace;
The Body too is well in Frame, the Tongue
Speaks of no Parts that suffer Want or Wrong;
All factious Insurrections are supprest,
Its Work is Ease, and all its Labours Rest.
No sickly Fastings made its Beauty Fade,
No Pains nor Hardships do its Strength invade;
The Veins are Channels only to conveigh
The Peaceful Inundations of Joy.
The Nerves grow big and consciously proud
As being inspirited with nobler Bloud.
All parts in their Relation to the whole
Do dutifully joyn to serve the Soul.
Whose Precepts being mild the Body has
An easier Service than its former was.
Thus One has no Rebellious Lusts to tame,
The other no Severities to blame;
But both their mutual Affections prove.
By interchangeable Returns of Love.
Now when th' Elect shall from the Quarters come
To be possest of their Eternal Home
When at the Judgment of the Just the Saints
Shall take their ultimate Accomplishments.
Then Soul and Body shall unite, that Both
When joyn'd may make what neither single doth.
What joyful Ecchoings will then rebound?
How will the Cloysters and Piazzas sound?
VVhat Acclamations will the Legions make?
How will the Kingdom and its Pillars shake?
VVhat a glad aspect will the Heavens wear
VVhen this great Marriage Rites in Action are?
How will Praise sound amidst the jolly Crew
VVhen ev'ry Saint is Bride and Bridegroom too?
Oh blessed Harmony when All in One,
Sing sacred Hymens in a Bridal Tune!
This glad triumphant Day Blest Spirits state
The Epocha for their Eternal Date;
So will I date these Lines, and as I go
Still take that Time as if 'twas present now.
Now Divine Wisdom do's it self reveal
And all those Depths it did so long conceal;
Ah what a lovely sight is This? and how
Do Saints in Praise and Admiration bow!
How do's it gratifie their Souls to see
The faithful Records of Eternity!
These Legends shew how God did first create
Things in that Order they continue yet.
These Comment on the World and represent
A Modul of its Make and Government.
They teach them how his grand Designs were laid,
What Issues and Results his Counsels had,
How his deep Thoughts and Purposes were wrought
To that effect which most advantage brought.
The Southern Queen thought it a happy Thing
To hear the Wisdom of a Jewish King;
But here's that Happiness as much out-don
As God is Wiser than King Solomon.
His Power also stands in View, and shews
It self as Glorious as his Wisdom do's,
'Tis neither terrible to view nor meet
Allays of Love do so attemper it.
On Earth his Presence dreadful we believe
We know we can't behold his Face and live;
But here these Bosom-Favourites do treat
With God their Sov'raign as their Intimate:
Now they delight to see and feel the hand
That fix'd the Heavens in the Place they stand,
That rais'd this Earthly Frame, and did subdue
The Pow'r of Men and Rage of Devils too.
That sav'd his Flock when Wolves about it stood
Threatning its Death thirsting for its Bloud.
That turn'd the Wheel of Providence about
And order'd all things that were fastned to't.
That made cross Dispensations work for Good,
And all things work as 'twas his Will they should
The sight of this so heightens their delight
That all their Joys are aggravated by't;
If Pow'r and VVisdom so delightful are
How will the Aspects of his Love appear?
Sure this endearing Spectacle do's want
Nought that may ravish and transport a Saint;
VVhen Love shall shew it self without a Vail
And nothing of its Loveliness conceal;
When it shall smile without a frown and dart
Its Beams direct to the Spectators Heart.
VVhen Saints shall see that gracious Breast wherein
Love from Eternity has active been,
Whence all designs of Mercy did proceed,
VVhere all great Acts of Grace were born and bred:
VVhen they shall see what made God's only Son
Put off his Glory and desert his Throne.
VVhat made him condescend to take a Birth
And pitch his Tabernacle here on Earth.
VVhy 'twas that he with such submission dy'd
And pray'd that he might live who pierc'd his side?
Their Souls sing Anthems with a freer Vent
Being rapt beyond themselves in Ravishment;
Let him that can their Joyfulness express
I wont confine it to my scanty Guess.
And as the sight of these foments their Bliss
So do's the prospect of his Holiness.
Alas this cannot chuse but give Delight
They live and move and have their Beings by't;
Self-Love would make them long to have this seen
Being what themselves are made and moulded in;
To see a Being so intensely pure
That nothing can exalt or drain it more;
A Nature so untaintedly Divine,
So spiritually spotless, and so fine;
So simple, lovely, and endearing too,
Must needs exasperate their Joys anew.
Thus these Perfections and as many more
As endless Sums can add unto the score,
Or God that owns them only knows are seen,
By those glad Eyes which always suck them in;
And what a Prospect entertains their sight
With an unbounded Province of Delight;
In him there are so many Things that call
For Admiration, that the Angels all
Together with the Saints still eye their God
And hover in the Light of his Abode:
Now Happiness is all they do pursue
They've that of Vision and Fruition too.
Their full ey'd Souls have now a strength to bear
Gods Glory tho' its Brightness do's appear.
They're so intent on Vision, that they seem
To prey on God whilest they are viewing him;
Their Eyes behold with such a thirsty Zeal
That where they set them first they settle still;
They look till what they for their Object had,
By Transformation is their Beings made.
For God, while they behold him, do's impart
Some of himself to each Spectators Heart,
And still the more they look the more they seem
To have of what they view and praise in him;
And thus his Likeness is imprest and wrought
In all the Parts and Pow'rs the Saints have got.
'Tis stampt in lively Lines, its parts are all
Drawn full and perfect, clear and symmetral.
This Image is not like an outward Grace
Drawn to imbellish and adorn a Face,
'Tis rather radicated and innate
Wholly transformative and intimate;
It is the Principle that do's begin
Eternal Peace and Harmony within;
By this the Soul in Act and Habit too,
Is taught its Good and Glory to pursue;
'Tis wholly bent on Duty and do's own
That Happiness and That is all but one.
Now holy Actings are in Flux, and run
Free from their Souls like Atoms from the Sun.
Each Action now is ravishing and sweet
Such large Rewards of Pleasure wait on it.
Each Saint is now so beautiful and bright
He is the Object of his own Delight.
Ah how it do's Solace his Soul to make
Surveys upon himself, to search and see
How the Impression and the Seal agree?
To see how Glory has transform'd him all,
How the Draught answers the Original?
To see himself made one with God, from whom
All his sweet Incomes and Illapses come?
How do's this heighten and enhance their Bliss?
What Transports do their ravisht Looks confess?
They tune so many Anthems that the Host
Do sing till Praise be in their Numbers lost.
They clap their Hands and Wings for Joy, and run
In endless Coronets about the Throne:
And this they do with as familiar Ease
As they themselves can think of what they please;
For being like Orbs, all to their Stations bound
God's Central Magnetism draws them round.
Thus they are happily employ'd and feel
More Joys than we or they themselves can tell;
Nay, they are glorified to such Degree
As to affirm must needs be Blasphemy.
Or high Presumption, had not God the Lord
Strongly confirm'd it in his Sacred VVord.
VVho else dares say for fear he should Blaspheme
That Saints are one with Christ and He with Them?
Or say (methinks ev'n now it sounds profane)
They dwell in God, and God in Them I mean.
These Heights of Speech (which Reason can't conceive
And therefore is engag'd to disbelieve)
We question not, for Faith forbids Distrust
And tells us This we would believe and must.
God's more to Them than Souls to Bodies are
Thro' him they act, and ever acting were.
He and They truly correspond (like Doves)
In joynt Reciprocation of Loves.
They possess Him, and are of Him possest;
Thus He in Them, and They in Him are blest.
From which uniting Juncture do's ensue
Immediate Intercourse of Action too.
On Earth we Interceptions meet, but here
Their Joys with Grief ne're interrupted are;
Gladness is all their Soul, they can't conceive
What 'tis to be disconsolate or grieve;
Their pamper'd Wills no Disappointments know
They're always pleas'd and always would be so:
Delights no Measure, Joys no mixture bring;
But both from pure unwasted Fountains Spring:
They have a Heaven fully to enjoy,
Where neither Want do's pinch, nor Plenty cloy.
Their luscious Pleasures surfeit to delight,
They always eat to gain an Appetite.
Joys in Reversion once, are now possest;
And Love in Motion's chang'd to Love in Rest.
Desire is made Delight, and Hopes that were
Mixt with Mis-givings, have Assurance here.
They swim in pleasantness, and always find
Fresh Banquets to caress and feast the Mind;
Nay what yet swells their Joy, they know its date
Is too long-liv'd for Time to terminate.
They know their Sun of Glory shall ne're set,
They'd lose Heav'n did they fear the losing it;
'Tis sure for Christ has sign'd it with his Blood,
And God has bail'd his Truth to make it good.
Their Paradise is built too firm to fall
For Truth and Promises compos'd it all,
Love is its Cement, Christ the Corner Stone,
And God the Basis which 'tis built upon.
What great Additions do the Thoughts of This
Bring to enlarge and stretch their Happiness.
To think that Heaven when Time is past and gone
Shall be as new as when it first begun:
That when innumerable Years are past
Their Joys shall still retain their Virgin Tast.
This makes their Mirth more pallateable still,
As sweet Infusions in a Cordial will;
To think the Feast they eat so gladly now
Shall still be plentiful and pleasant too.
To think their Appetites shall ne're forbear
To be as keen as they at present are;
And that their Feast shall be as luscious still
And as continual as their Stomachs will;
This blest Assurance glads their Spirits more
Than any single Joy they had before:
For taking thus Eternity in View
Makes all its future Pleasures present too.
Each single Comfort carries in its Womb
The luscious Foretast of still more to come.
One brings the relish of the rest in hand
As Joshua's Grapes did of the Promis'd Land.
Their Joys are ne're adjourn'd but always near
For Expectation is Enjoyment here.
Thus all have now Eternity of Bliss
And yet 'tis still in prospect to possess.
This aggravates their Joys and scrues their Thoughts,
To Heights scarce vented in Seraphick Notes;
Each in his proper Sphere of Duty pays
His honorary Tribute of Applause;
Just as the thankful Birds devoutly sing
Their Mattins to the Goddess of the Spring;
Hymns and Hosannahs from all Quarters sung
Is all that can be heard amidst the Throng.
And that must needs be an Harmonious Noise
Where Mirth and Melody do counterpoise;
Anthems and Halelujahs rise in Swarms
And sound to Praise as Trumpets do to Arms;
They sing so sweetly, and so long, they seem
To be all Lungs or what's instead of Them;
Ah with what Joy these jocund Spirits move
Round in the Orb of God's suffusive Love!
Their Souls so strut with Joyfulness that some
Take up ev'n Heav'n it self for Elbow-room.
Ointments of Love still sweetning as they fall
Bedew, embalm, and over-run them all:
Thus are they all delighting in their God
And gladed with their Being and Abode:
Glory is shar'd, in common all unite
In one Community of Love and Light;
Here are no Guardians of forbidden Fruit,
But Happiness is free and prostitute:
Yet Blessedness has its Degrees, nay such
As make the Blessed Spirits differ much:
Glory is carv'd and parcell'd out, but yet
Its Portions are not all commensurate.
Heav'n is no lawless lev'lling Anarchy
But a Monarchical Theocrisie;
And therefore we've no reason to conclude
That all are uniformly Great or Good.
In Monarchies we own the King Supream,
The Princes next, the Viceroy next to Them;
And so thro' all Degrees which represent
The great Decorum of a Government.
So Here, JEHOVAH supersedes the State,
Beneath his Footstool Seraphims are set;
Next Cherubims, and Thrones, Dominions then,
So till we take the Hierarchy in;
As Angels, so no doubt but Saints do bear
Their gradual subordinations here;
The Elders are a Rank of Worth, but yet
Th' Apostles Order is transcending that,
For They with Christ as Sacred Writings tell
Shall judge the Tribes the Twelve of Israel:
To each God gives that Portion of his Love
To which by Faith he did a Title prove:
Each Order and Degree of Grace shall meet
A Form in Glory that shall answer it:
He whose five Talents gain'd five more, and He
Whose Two, gat Two, do differ in Degree.
A Patron of Religion shall have Store
Of Glorious Dowry's but a Martyr more:
A late Repentant shall have Room prepar'd,
But long Obedience shall have large Reward.
Yet tho they differ he that has the least
Has what contents his Will and fills his Breast
He has as much as he can grasp, his soul
Is complacentially stufft and full;
He murmurs not that other Saints have more
Or He has least, but rather do's adore
In Love and Gratitude his God that gave
What He enjoys and all his Fellows have:
Such are the Dignities, they here abide
As those to whom they're giv'n are qualify'd;
All their Perfections are array'd and drest
To suit those Pow'rs by which they are possest:
For were they modell'd more or less to crave
Than by Eternal Charter they can have,
'Twould bate so much of Happiness, 'twould be
The long complaint of Endless Misery;
If they had more than they could bear the Weight
Finding no Powers to preponderate;
Would in the Cruelty of Kindness kill
And press their Souls from Heaven into Hell.
If less they'd still be hunting in Pursuit
Of what must ever be forbidden Fruit.
Thus disappointments would torment the Mind
Finding it self for Misery design'd;
So that if This, This also must be true
That Saints are happy and unhappy too.
There's none but Graduates in Grace that e're
Commenced a Degree in Glory Here.
But those good Works which usher'd in the Saints
Now being useless are excluded hence;
Mercy is needless in this happy state
For Misery can no Admittance get.
Here are no sick to visit or bemoan
For all are healthy and Immortal grown.
Here Hospitality unpractic'd lies
And Burial of the Dead for Nothing dies.
Here are no Foes to reconcile, no Need
Of Interceding, They are all agreed:
And sure where works of Mercy find no Room
Those of Necessity must never come.
No Heat nor Cold can ever them molest
For, by a wonder not to be exprest,
That Sun who by his Heat do's them relieve
Do's by his Shadow also shelter give;
Thro' Exercise they neither sleep nor faint
Because their Labours no Repose do's want.
Their hardest Work is easie to Delight
And ne're impairs but re-inforces Might;
And as their Pow'r is able so their Will
Is likewise vigorous and active still;
Love consecrates their Services and Zeal
Gives Oil and Motion unto Duties Wheel:
Nor is it servile to obey the Saints
While they submit are in their Elements;
Nay they attend Gods Will as much or more
Than Artick Needles do the Magnet's Pow'r.
And being delighted in the Work they do
They act in Rest, and rest in Action too.
Their Wills are tun'd to Gods, and all in One
Do Eccho in Consent when his is known.
These and innumerable Millions more
Of unknown Pleasures treasur'd up in store,
Are plentifully on the Saints bestow'd
By their free-hearted openhanded God.
It can't be thought with what Delight they move
In endless Circles of repeated Love:
With what exalted Melody they sing
The Song of Canaan unto Judah's King:
Their dissolved Souls ev'n drop in Mirth and Zeal,
And run as Metals melt with Lightning will:
Pleasure is all they know or do possess
They breath no Air but Joy and Happiness:
Now Glory Triumphs, Praise is fully Crown'd,
And Songs of Jubilee (whose joyous sound
Eccho's in Tune) are ravishingly Sung
By the joynt Voices of the Jolly Throng:
Joys do commence the Height of Heights and flow
From Springs that neither Banks nor Bottom know.
Their Souls are lost like Things in an Abyss,
In Trances of ungovernable Bliss;
Their Joys ne're fail them, but are still renew'd
In endless Transports of Beatitude.
For this they ever bless their God, and seem
As sacrific'd in Flames of Love to him.
Let Silence speak the rest and Faith believe
'Tis far beyond their Hopes what Saints receive;
Our Thoughts of Glory are too dwarfish still
And all drop short as charmed Bullets will;
'Tis neither Faith nor Fancy can pretend
To know its Height or Depth, its Breadth or End.
The only Thought that can describe this State,
Is to think what you cannot Think, 'Tis That.
THE REVIEW.
IS it thus then? Is all that Reason saith
As short of Heav'n as Folly is of Faith?
Is Glory hid from our presumptuous sight
By the dark Vail of its obscuring Light?
Do's Reason after Tryal made, confess
Its Depth unfathomably Bottomless?
And is my Soul whom Toys and Follies please
Born Heir expectant of such Joys as these?
Will Faith and Patience by an Act of Grace
Entitle me to this Triumphant Place?
Farewel all sublunary Joys, be gon
You empty Shadows I once doted on.
All Earths evanid Glories I despise,
Here are no Objects that shall tempt my Eyes.
I am resolv'd to follow and pursue
The Heav'n which Faith not Fancy leads me to.
'Tis thee, O God I will design who art
The Peace and Portion of my Better Part.
Farewel ye fruitless Vanity of Youth
The frothy Fits of Pride and Passion both:
Farewel those thrifty and ambitious Crimes
Which pass for Virtues in these Modish Times.
What's an Estate that I should toil and sweat
Or pawn this Happiness to purchase it?
Misers are happy only in their dream
When fancy'd Heaps of Riches real seem,
For when the Visionary cheat is o're
With a rich Sigh they Sigh for waking Poor.
What is a Name? 'Tis Nothing in disguise,
A Bubble drest in gilded Vanities;
There's Nothing solid in it to be found,
'Tis empty Things that yield and spread a sound;
The Noise that do's from Mens Applauses come
Is like the empty Loudness of a Drum.
These Toys so highly priz'd, so much embrac't
By some, I once more bid Farewel in Hast:
Farewel my Friends and dear Enjoyments too,
Nay I must bid my former self adieu.
I have but one thing of this World to crave
And that's the parting Kindness of a Grave;
If I must pay for't, I'le not give Receipt
But leave my Body Pris'ner for the Debt.
I am design'd, if nothing spoils my Aim,
A Pilgrim to the New Jerusalem.
This is my Purpose, and I hope 'twill stand
Till I set Footing in the Holy Land:
Let Egypt be forgotten and forsook
I wont give Sodom a recanting Look.
But let the progress of my Journey shew
That I was willing and Believing too.
Mount then my Soul and make thy full Career
Ne're stop till thou must stop thy Courser there.
Lift up thy lowly Stature now and View
What 'tis the Promises invite Thee to?
Rouze up thy self, shake of these Bands that keep
Thy Pow'rs entomb'd in a Lethargic sleep.
Get th' Innocence and Pinions of a Dove
Then clip away unto thy Rest above:
But why so Careless, Sluggish and remiss
In Business so importunate as this?
Ah how I'm plagu'd with an unwilling Mind!
It shews Averseness while it lags behind!
Dost sin or sleep out all thy Days, and yet
Hope to awake in this most joyous State?
Wouldst thou have Holiness perfected there
But hate to have't initiated here?
Ah Carnal Madness! how its Actions run
Quite to unravel what thy Hopes had spun?
Has he a Harvest that neglects to Sow?
Do Oaks arise where Acorns never grow?
Come then adjourn these unbelieving Dreams
Earth is not such a Heaven as it seems.
Dost not perceive what fatal Dangers nigh
Life lies most open in a closed Eye.
Shake off these drowsie Humors and prepare
For the accounting at the Judgement Bar!
Don't think that Heaven is the Gift of Fate,
That Souls are sav'd as chance shall arbitrate;
But know thy Actions Good or Bad must take
That Retribution which thy Judge shall make.
Now thou'rt Probationer for that Reward
Which God has for the Virtuous prepar'd.
The Elements of Glory must be wrought
On Earth, its seed must be by Grace begot,
A Gracious Frame and Disposition Here
Is the promotive of a Glorious There:
Well then be wise and busily employ
The Present Seeds-time of Eternal Joy!
But while I reason thus my Soul do's mourn
And Sighs me out this sorrowful Return.
My Pow'rs are feeble, and my strength is weak.
When I've a Will, I want a Tongue to speak.
I look to Heaven with a longing Eye
Spreading my willing Wings but cannot flye.
I strive to rise but my Attempts are vain
Or if I do Earth tugs me down again:
Sometimes my Passions so pervert my Will
That when I know the Good I chose the Ill.
A pious Purpose seldom comes to good
Some cross Temptation nips it in the Bud.
Sometimes a suddain Flash of Sacred Heat
Inflames my Temper to a Zealous sweat
But suddainly this hasty Fit goes o're
And then my Heart grows lifeless as before;
As a young Exhalation newly fled
Aspiring upwards scorns its dusty Bed
And strait means Heav'n, but cooling into Rain
Becomes more pursie and drops down again;
Just so's my Love, at its first lanching out
It scorns I should its Perseverance doubt,
'Tis so presumptious and so hot withal,
'Twont take Discretion for a Social;
But as it mount this short-liv'd Heat abates
Passion declines and Zeal degenerates.
Its hasty Proffers were too nice and young
To bear the Hardship of Attendance long;
And thus my Love unfeather'd when it fled
Wants Wings to bear it whither it decreed;
Then Carnal Thoughts to their own Center bound,
First make it Earthy, and then drag it down:
And thus my State too evidently such
Calls more for Help and Pity than Reproach.
Poor helpless Slave, to thee, O Christ I cry
Who had [...] fleshly Cage as well as I.
O give [...] set the Captive free,
And teach [...] use my Liberty;
Let no good [...] Praise, nor Will to Love,
For want of thee to help, Abortive prove.
Favour such Actions, let their Progress shew
Thy kind Acceptance and Concurrence too.
First hallow my Affections, then excite
Some vigorous Energy and Appetite;
Then give a Pow'r whose un-resisted Force,
May bear me out in a Religious Course;
First cleanse my Soul, then bid thy Spirit come
And make the Closet of my Heart its Home.
Then I shall have some previous Gusts and feel
The complacential Relishes of Zeal:
Why should I richly starve, or hungry live,
When Hopes and Promises such Plenty give?
Let me know sometimes by an Antepast
How sweet Heav'ns Joys in Prelibation tast.
Shed some Illapses of thy Love, impart
Some Interviews of Glory to my Heart!
Why is thy Image vail'd? 'Tis seldom seen
So much Eclipse, but when Sins intervene:
If that's the cause let Mercy's Beams affright
These Hellish Clouds that make so black a Night.
Unmask thy Visage, not to weak-ey'd Sense
But give my better sighted Faith a Glance:
Give me some Pledge by which I may be ty'd
Least Carnal Scruples plead my Bargain void;
Nay I am apt to Merchandise away
A future Kingdom for a present Toy.
Feed me with Promises, when that won't do't
Let Faith be chewing on an Attribute;
Let neither Fears nor Unbelief prevent
My firm Assurance nor my full Consent.
But let Faith guide me by a skilfull hand,
And guard my Passage to the Promis'd Land.
Keep my Soul praying, and dispose it that
Its intermittent Pulse thy Praises beat.
Give me such Courage as shall make me fit
To cope with all Discouragements I meet;
Such full Belief as shall not leave me Room
To doubt the Truth or Worth of Joys to come;
Such Patience as shall make me calmly wait
The happy time of my Exchange of State;
Till when I'le joy in hope of what shall be
Fully unbosom'd and reveal'd to me.
FINIS.