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That which is to Come
Deliver❜d under the Simade of a
Wherein is Difcover'd
The Manner of his Setting out,
Safe ARRIVAL at the Defired Coun
The Six and Twentieth Edition,
I bave ufed Similitudes, Hofea xii. 1
Printed by A. W. for J. Clarke, at the
Golden-Ball, in Duck-Lane, 1743.
The Author's Apology for his Book. HEN at the first I took my Pen in Hand, Thus for to write, I did not understand That at all fhould make a little Book" make a Ia fuch a Mode Nay, I had undertook To make anoth; which, when almost done, Before I was aware, I this begun;
And thus it was I waiting of the Way And Race of Saints in this our Gofpel Day. Fell fuddenly into an Allegory
About their Journey, and the Way to Glory,
Like Sparks that from the Coals of Fire do fly.
I did, but yet I did dot think
w to all the World my Pen and Ink
From worfer Thoughts which make me do amifs.
It down, until it came at laft to be
Well, when I had thus put my Ends together, Ifhew'd them others, that I might fee whether They would condemn them, or them juftifie: And fome faid, Let them live; fome Let them die ;. Some faid John, Print it; Others faid Not fo, Some faid, It might do good; Others faid, No. Now I was in a Straight, and did not fee Which was the beft Thing to be done by me: At laft I thought, fince ye are thus divided, print it will, and fo the Cafe decided.
For, thought I, fome I fee would have it done, Though others in that Channel do not run ; To prove then who advised for the best, Thus I thought fit to put it to the Teft. I farther thought, if now I did deny Thofe that would have it, thus to gratify I did not know but hinder them I might Of that which would to them be great Delight; For thofe which were not for it's coming forth, faid to them, Offend you I am lath: Yet fince your Brethren-pleafed with it be, Forbear to judge, 'till you do further fee. If that you will not read it, let it alone, Some love the Meat, fome love to pick a Bone, Yea, that I might them better moderate, I did too with them thus expoftulate! May I not write in fuch a Stile as this? In fuch a Method too, and yet not miss My End, thy Good? why may it not be done? Dark Clouds bring Waters, when the bright bring none; Yea, dark or bright, if they their Silver Drops Caufe to defcend, the Earth, by yielding Crops,