97. PEACE.

SWEET PEACE, where dost thou dwell? I humbly crave, Let me once know.

I sought thee in a secret cave,

And ask'd, if Peace were there

A hollow winde did seem to answer, No:
Go seek elsewhere.

I did; and going did a rainbow note:
Surely, thought I,

This is the lace of Peace's coat :

I will search out the matter.

But while I lookt the clouds immediately
Did break and scatter.

Then went I to a garden and did spy
A gallant flower,

The crown Imperiall: Sure, said I,
Peace at the root must dwell.

But when I digg'd, I saw a worm devoure
What show'd so well.

At length I met a rev'rend good old man :
Whom when for Peace

I did demand, he thus began:

There was a Prince of old

At Salem dwelt, who liv'd with good increase
Of flock and fold.

He sweetly liv'd; yet sweetnesse did not save
His life from foes.

But after death out of his grave

There sprang twelve stalks of wheat: Which many wondring at, got some of those To plant and set.

It prosper'd strangely, and did soon disperse
Through all the earth:

For they that taste it do rehearse,
That vertue lies therein;

A secret vertue, bringing peace and mirth
By flight of sinne.

Take of this grain, which in my garden grows,
And grows for you;

Make bread of it: and that repose
And peace, which ev'ry where

With so much earnestnesse you do pursue
Is onely there.

98. CONFESSION.

O WHAT a cunning guest

Is this same grief! within my heart I made
Closets; and in them many a chest ;
And like a master in my trade,

In those chests, boxes; in each box, a till:
Yet grief knows all, and enters when he will.

No scrue, no piercer can

Into a piece of timber work and winde,
As God's afflictions into man,

When he a torture hath design'd.

They are too subtill for the subt'llest hearts; And fall, like rheumes, upon the tendrest parts.

We are the earth; and they,

Like moles within us, heave and cast about:
And till they foot and clutch their prey,

They never cool, much lesse give out.

No smith can make such locks, but they have keyes; Closets are halls to them; and hearts, high-wayes.

Onely an open breast

Doth shut them out, so that they cannot enter;
Or, if they enter, cannot rest,

But quickly seek some new adventure.
Smooth open hearts no fastning have; but fiction
Doth give a hold and handle to affliction.

Wherefore my faults and sinnes,

Lord, I acknowledge; take thy plagues away :
For since confession pardon winnes,

I challenge here the brightest day,
The clearest diamond : let them do their best,
They shall be thick and cloudie to my breast.

99. GIDDINESSE.

OH, what a thing is man! how farre from power,
From setled peace and rest!

He is some twentie sev'rall men at least
Each sev'rall houre.

One while he counts of heav'n, as of his treasure:
But then a thought creeps in,

And calls him coward, who for fear of sinne
Will lose a pleasure.

Now he will fight it out, and to the warres;
Now eat his bread in peace,

And snudge in quiet: now he scorns increase;
Now all day spares.

He builds a house, which quickly down must go,
As if a whirlwinde blew

And crusht the building: and it's partly true,
His minde is so.

O what a sight were Man, if his attires
Did alter with his minde;

And like a Dolphin's skinne, his clothes combin'd
With his desires !

Surely if each one saw another's heart,
There would be no commerce,

No sale or bargain pass: all would disperse,
And live apart.

Lord, mend or rather make us: one creation
Will not suffice our turn:

Except thou make us dayly, we shall spurn
Our own salvation.

100. THE BUNCH OF GRAPES.

Joy, I did lock thee up: but some bad man
Hath let thee out again :

And now, methinks, I am where I began

Sev'n years ago: one vogue and vein,
One aire of thoughts usurps my brain,

I did toward Canaan draw; but now I am
Brought back to the Red sea, the sea of shame.

For as the Jews of old by God's command
Travell'd, and saw no town;

So now each Christian hath his journeys spann'd:
Their storie pennes and sets us down.

A single deed is small renown.

God's works are wide, and let in future times;
His ancient justice overflows our crimes.

Then have we too our guardian fires and clouds:
Our Scripture-dew drops fast:

We have our sands and serpents, tents and shrowds,
Alas! our murmurings come not last.

But where's the cluster? where's the taste
Of mine inheritance? Lord, if I must borrow,
Let me as well take up their joy, as sorrow.

But can he want the grape, who hath the wine?
I have their fruit and more.

Blessed be God, who prosper'd Noah's vine,

And made it bring forth grapes good store.
But much more him I must adore,

Who of the law's sowre juice sweet wine did make,
Ev'n God himself, being pressed for my sake.

101. LOVE UNKNOWN.

DEARE friend, sit down, the tale is long and sad:
And in my faintings I presume your love
Will more complie, then help. A Lord I had,
And have, of whom some grounds, which may improve,
I hold for two lives, and both lives in me.