“His pen did once Meat from the Eater take
	And now he’s gone beyond the Eater’s reach.
	His body once so thin was next to none
	From hence he’s to unbodied spirits flown.
	Once his rare skill did all diseases heal
	And he doth nothing now uneasy feel.
	He to his paradise is joyful come
	And waits with joy to see his Day of Doom.”

	The Day of Doom.
	To the Christian Reader.
	READER, I am a fool
	And have adventurèd
	To play the fool this once for Christ,
	The more his fame to spread.
	If this my foolishness
	Help thee to be more wise,
	I have attainèd what I seek,
	And what I only prize.
	Thou wonderest, perhaps,
	That I in print appear,
	Who to the pulpit dwell so nigh,
	Yet come so seldom there.
	The God of Heaven knows
	What grief to me it is,
	To be withheld from serving Christ;
	No sorrow like to this.
	This is the sorest pain
	That I have felt or feel;
	Yet have I stood some shocks that might
	Make stronger men to reel.
	I find more true delight
	In serving of the Lord,
	Than all the good things upon Earth,
	Without it, can afford.
	And could my strength endure
	That work I count so dear,
	Not all the riches of Peru
	Should hire me to forbear.
	But I’m a prisoner,
	Under a heavy chain;
	Almighty God’s afflicting hand
	Doth me by force restrain.
	Yet some (I know) do judge
	Mine inability
	To come abroad and do Christ’s work.
	To be melancholy;
	And that I’m not so weak
	As I myself conceit;
	But who in other things have found
	Me so conceited yet?
	Or who of all my friends
	That have my trials seen,
	Can tell the time in sevèn years
	When I have dumpish been?
	Some think my voice is strong,
	Most times when I do preach;
	But ten days after, what I feel
	And suffer few can reach.
	My prison’d thoughts break forth,
	When open’d is the door,
	With greater force and violence,
	And strain my voice the more.
	But vainly do they tell
	That I am growing stronger,
	Who hear me speak in half an hour,
	Till I can speak no longer.
	Some for because they see not
	My cheerfulness to fail,
	Nor that I am disconsolate,
	Do think I nothing ail.
	If they had borne my griefs,
	Their courage might have fail’d them,
	And all the town (perhaps) have known
	(Once and again) what ail’d them.
	But why should I complain
	That have so good a God,
	That doth mine heart with comfort fill
	Ev’n whilst I feel his rod?
	In God I have been strong,
	But wearied and worn out,
	And joy’d in him, when twenty woes
	Assail’d me round about.
	Nor speak I this to boast,
	But make apology
	For mine own self, and answer those
	That fail in charity.
	I am, alas! as frail,
	Impatiènt a creature,
	As most that tread upon the ground,
	And have as bad a nature.
	Let God be magnified,
	Whose everlasting strength
	Upholds me under sufferings
	Of more than ten years’ length;
	Through whose Almighty pow’r,
	Although I am surrounded
	With sorrows more than can be told,
	Yet am I not confounded.
	For his dear sake have I
	This service undertaken,
	For I am bound to honor him
	Who hath not me forsaken.
	I am a debtor, too,
	Unto the sons of men,
	Whom, wanting other means, I would
	Advantage with my pen.
	I would, but ah! my strength,
	When trièd, proves so small,
	That to the ground without effect
	My wishes often fall.
	Weak heads, and hands, and states,
	Great things cannot produce;
	And therefore I this little piece
	Have publish’d for thine use.
	Although the thing be small,
	Yet my good will therein
	Is nothing less than if it had
	A larger volume been.
	Accept it then in love,
	And read it for thy good;
	There’s nothing in’t can do thee hurt,
	If rightly understood.
	The God of Heaven grant
	These lines so well to speed,
	That thou the things of thine own peace
	Through them may’st better heed;
	And may’st be stirrèd up
	To stand upon thy guard,
	That Death and Judgment may not come
	To find thee unprepar’d.
	Oh, get a part in Christ,
	And make the Judge thy friend;
	So shalt thou be assurèd of
	A happy, glorious end.
	Thus prays thy real friend
	And servant for Christ’s sake,
	Who, had he strength, would not refuse
	More pains for thee to take.

[Dooming the Reprobate Infant.]
(clxvi–clxxxi.)

	THEN 1 to the Bar all they drew near
	Who died in infancy,
	And never had or good or bad
	effected pers’nally; 2
	But from the womb unto the tomb
	were straightway carrièd,
	(Or at the least ere they trangress’d)
	who thus began to plead:
	“If for our own transgressi-on,
	or disobedience,
	We here did stand at thy left hand,
	just were the Recompense;
	But Adam’s guilt our souls hath spilt,
	his fault is charg’d upon us;
	And that alone hath overthrown
	and utterly undone us.
	“Not we, but he ate of the tree,
	whose fruit was interdicted;
	Yet on us all of his sad fall
	the punishment’s inflicted.
	How could we sin that had not been,
	or how is his sin our,
	Without consent, which to prevent
	we never had the pow’r?
	“O great Creator, why was our nature
	depravèd and forlorn?
	Why so defil’d, and made so vil’d,
	whilst we were yet unborn?
	If it be just, and needs we must
	transgressors reckon’d be,
	Thy mercy, Lord, to us afford, 3
	which sinners hath set free.
	“Behold we see Adam set free,
	and sav’d from his trespass,
	Whose sinful fall hath split us all,
	and brought us to this pass.
	Canst thou deny us once to try,
	Or grace to us to tender,
	When he finds grace before thy face
	who was the chief offender?”
	Then answerèd the Judge most dread: 4
	“God doth such doom forbid,
	That men should die eternally
	for what they never did.
	But what you call old Adam’s fall,
	and only his trespass,
	You call amiss to call it his,
	both his and yours it was.
	“He was design’d of all mankind
	to be a public head;
	A common root, whence all should shoot, 5
	and stood in all their stead.
	He stood and fell, did ill or well,
	not for himself alone,
	But for you all, who now his Fall
	and trespass would disown.
	“If he had stood, then all his brood
	had been establishèd
	In God’s true love never to move,
	nor once awry to tread;
	Then all his race my Father’s grace
	should have enjoy’d for ever
	And wicked sprites by subtile sleights
	could them have harmèd never.
	“Would you have griev’d to have receiv’d
	through Adam so much good,
	As had been your for evermore,
	if he at first had stood?
	Would you have said, ‘We ne’er obey’d
	nor did thy laws regard;
	It ill befits, with benefits,
	us, Lord, to so reward?’
	“Since then to share in his welfare,
	you could have been content,
	You may with reason share in his treason,
	and in the punishment,
	Hence you were born in state forlorn, 6
	with natures so depravèd
	Death was your due because that you
	had thus yourselves behavèd.
	“You think ‘If we had been as he
	whom God did so betrust,
	We to our cost would ne’er have lost
	all for a paltry lust.’
	Had you been made in Adam’s stead, 7
	you would like things have wrought,
	And so into the self-same woe
	yourselves and yours have brought.
	“I may deny you once to try,
	or grace to you to tender,
	Though he finds grace before my face
	who was the chief offender; 8
	Else should my grace cease to be grace,
	for it would not be free,
	If to release whom I should please
	I have no liberty.
	“If upon one what’s due to none
	I frankly shall bestow,
	And on the rest shall not think best
	compassion’s skirt to throw,
	Whom injure I? Will you envy
	and grudge at others’ weal?
	Or me accuse, who do refuse
	yourselves to help and heal?
	“Am I alone of what’s my own,
	no master or no lord?
	And if I am, how can you claim 9
	what I to some afford?
	Will you demand grace at my hand, and
	challenge what is mine?
	Will you teach me whom to set free,
	and thus my grace confine?
	“You sinners are, and such a share 10
	as sinners may expect;
	Such you shall have, for I do save
	none but mine own Elect.
	Yet to compare your sin with their
	who liv’d a longer time,
	I do confess yours is much less
	though every sin’s a crime.
	“A crime it is, therefore in bliss 11
	you may not hope to dwell;
	But unto you I shall allow
	the easiest room in Hell.”

[Dissolving Domestic Ties.]
(cxcv.–cc.)

	Unto the Saints with sad complaints
	should they themselves apply?
	They’re not dejected nor aught affected 12
	with all their misery.
	Friends stand aloof and make no proof
	what prayers or tears can do;
	Your Godly friends are now more friends
	to Christ than unto you.
	Where tender love men’s hearts did move
	unto a sympathy,
	And bearing part of others’ smart 13
	in their anxiety,
	Now such compassion is out of fashion,
	and wholly laid aside;
	No friends so near, but Saints to hear
	their Sentence can abide.
	One natural brother beholds another
	in his astonied fit,
	Yet sorrows not thereat a jot, 14
	nor pities him a whit.
	The godly wife conceives no grief
	nor can she shed a tear
	For the sad state of her dear mate
	when she his doom doth hear.
	He that was erst a husband pierc’d
	with sense of wife’s distress,
	Whose tender heart did bear a part
	of all her grievances.
	Shall mourn no more as heretofore,
	because of her ill plight,
	Although he see her now to be
	a damn’d forsaken wight.
	The tender mother will own no other
	of all her num’rous brood
	But such as stand at Christ’s right hand,
	acquitted through his Blood. 15
	The pious father had now much rather
	his graceless son should lie
	In hell with devils, for all his evils,
	burning eternally.
	Than God most High should injury
	by sparing him sustain;
	And doth rejoice to hear Christ’s voice, 16
	adjudging him to pain.