And, by their owne weake Shine, did fearch the And Course of things, [fprings

Shall with Inlightned Rayes

Pierce all their wayes;

And as thou faw'ft, I in a thought could goe
To heav'n or Earth below

To reade fome Starre, or Min'rall, and in State
There often fate;

So fhalt thou then with me,

Both wing'd and free,

Rove in that mighty and eternall light,
Where no rude shade, or night

Shall dare approach us; we shall there no more
Watch stars, or pore

Through melancholly clouds, and fay,
Would it were Day!

One everlasting Saboth there fhall runne
Without Succeffion, and without a Sunne.

Dan. cap. 12. ver. 13.

But goe thou thy way untill the end be, for thou fbalt reft, and stand up in thy lot, at the end of the dayes.

Day of Judgement.

Hen through the North a fire fhall rush

And rowle into the East,

And like a firie torrent brush

And sweepe up South and Weft,

When all shall streame and lighten round,

And with furprizing flames

Both ftars and Elements confound,

And quite blot out their names,—

When thou shalt spend thy facred ftore

Of thunders in that heate,

And low as ere they lay before

Thy fix-dayes' building beate,

When like a scrowle the heavens shall paffe
And vanish cleane away,

And nought must stand of that vaft space

Which held up night and day,—

When one lowd blast shall rend the deepe,

And from the wombe of earth

Summon up all that are asleepe

Unto a fecond birth,

When thou fhalt make the Clouds thy feate,
And in the open aire

The Quick and dead, both small and great,
Muft to thy barre repaire ;

O then it will be all too late

To fay, What shall I doe?

Repentance there is out of date,

And fo is

mercy too.

Prepare, prepare me then, O God!

And let me now begin

To feele my loving father's Rod

Killing the man of finne!

Give me, O give me Crosses here,

Still more afflictions lend!

That pill, though bitter, is moft deare
That brings health to the end.

Lord, God! I beg nor friends, nor wealth,
But pray against them both;

Three things I'de have, my foule's chief health,
And one of these femes loath,

A living FAITH, a HEART of flesh,
The WORLD an Enemie;

This last will keepe the first two fresh,
And bring me where I'de be.

I Pet. 4. 7.

The end of all things is at hand; be ye therefore sober, and watch unto prayer.

Religion.

Y God, when I walke in those groves
And leaves thy Spirit doth ftill fan,
I fee in each fhade that there growes
An Angell talking with a man.

Under a Juniper fome house,

Or the coole Mirtle's canopie,

Others beneath an Oake's green boughs,
Or at fome fountaine's bubling Eye.

Here Jacob dreames, and wrestles; there
Elias is by Ravens fed,

Another time by th' Angell, where

He brings him water with his bread.

In Abraham's Tent the winged guests
(O how familiar then was heaven!)
Eate, drinke, discourse, fit downe, and reft
Until the Coole, and fhady Even.

Nay thou thy felfe, my God, in fire,
Whirle-winds, and Clouds, and the foft voice,
Speak'ft there fo much, that I admire
We have no Conference in these daies.

Is the truce broke? or 'cause we have
A Mediatour now with thee,
Doft thou therefore old Treaties wave,
And by appeales from him decree?

Or is't fo, as fome green heads fay,
That now all miracles must cease?
Though thou haft promis'd they should stay,
The tokens of the Church, and peace.

No, no; Religion is a Spring,

That from fome fecret, golden Mine
Derives her birth, and thence doth bring
Cordials in every drop, and Wine.

But in her long, and hidden Course,
In paffing through the Earth's darke veines,
Growes ftill from better unto worse,
And both her taste and colour staines ;

Then drilling on learnes to encrease
Falfe Ecchoes and Confused founds,
And unawares doth often feize

On veines of Sulphur under ground;

So poifon'd breaks forth in fome Clime,
And at first fight doth many please ;
But drunk, is puddle or meere slime,
And 'ftead of Phifick, a disease.

Juft fuch a tainted fink we have,
Like that Samaritan's dead well;
For muft we for the Kernell crave
Because most voices like the hell?

Heale then these waters, Lord; or bring thy flock, Since these are troubled, to the springing rock; Looke downe great Master of the feaft; O fhine, And turn once more our Water into Wine!

Cant. cap. 4. ver. 12.

My fifter, my spouse is as a garden Inclofed, as a Spring fhut up, and a fountain fealed.

The Search.

Is now cleare day: I see a Rose
Bud in the bright East, and disclose
The Pilgrim-Sunne; all night have I
Spent in a roving Extafie

To find my Saviour; I have been
As far as Bethlem, and have seen
His Inne and Cradle; Being there
I met the Wife-Men, afkt them where
He might be found, or what starre can
Now point him out, grown up a Man?