2. A Guest I had, a pregnant one, That could fill hell, Corruption; By lodging whom, I lost my right To things beyond what's now in fight. Each day, each hour almoft, fome bafe-begot Tranfgreffion fhe conceived and forth brought. 3. No help, but I muft die, or fhe; Yea ev'n my death no help would be: For I one Death had dy'd, to die Another now, were but to tie And twist them both into a third, which when It once hath feiz'd on, never looseth Side there ran Sin's corrofives, Restoratives for Man. 5. This Balm I beg'd, for pity's fake, At Mercy's gate, where faith may take: Bounty faid, " Come! (and I believ'd) "None here complains, but is reliev'd:" Hope, waiting upon Faith, faid in- 6. She dy'd, I live: But yet, alas! my mind; Tho' her foul's gone, her body's left behind. 7. Dead bodies kept unbury'd ftink; How can I then but naufeous think And all my pleasures are as yefterday. 2. I dare not move way; my dim eyes any Defpair behind, and death before doth caft Such terror; and my feeble flesh doth wafte By Sin in it, which it t'wards hell doth weigh. 3. Only Thou art above; and when t'wards thee By thy leave I can look, I rife again. But 11. But my celeftial Lord had other views; God cloth'd himself in vile man's Flesh, that fo He might be weak enough to fuffer Woe. Canft thou yet dread, when thou on this doft mufe? 12. What if this prefent were the world's laft Night? My Soul! mark in thy heart, where thou dost dwell, The Picture of Christ crucify'd; and tell, Whether his countenance can thee affright! 13. Tears, in his Eyes, quench the amazing Light; Blood fills his Frowns, which from his pierc'd Head fell; And can that Tongue adjudge thee unto hell, Which pray'd forgiveness for his foes fierce fpight? 14. To wicked fpirits are horrid fhapes affign'd; Beauty's of Pity, foulnefs only is A Sign of rigour: th' inference then is wife, This beauteous Form affures a pite. ous Mind. D. 384. 2. By vileness, Clay; and by felfmurder, red My Heart is; from this red earth purge with speed All vicious Tinctures, that newfashioned (Tho' this glafs lanthorn, Flesh, do fuffer maim) Fire, facrifice, prieft, altar, 'bide the fame. I may rife up from death, before I'm 2. Then may I in thy Son thy felf dead. * Gen. ii. 7. 3. O Son of God, who when thou faw'ft two things, Sin and Death, crept in, which were never made; By bearing one, mad'st trial with what ftings The other could thine Heritage invade! 4. O be thou nail'd again unto my Heart; Part not from it, tho' it from Thee But let it be, by applying fo thy 5. O holy Ghoft, whofe ancient Am, but of Mud-walls and condensed duft; And have fince then been facrilegiously Much wafted with Youth's fires of pride and luft! 6. Double thy Flame in me, tho' discover; Sure He's the Mirror, that reveals thy Face. Prevent mine error; Chrift's Flesh, like a glass, That dazzling Glory, yet unfeen, doth cover. 3. Thou fet'ft the fcreen thyfelf, Fa The divine Nature, on Man's breast, Clear from all Treafon and from all. mifprifion. 2. Father, thou foak'st this Adamant in Blood Of thy First-born: mine heart, I felt, Did th' Imprefs fcorn, and would not melt, Till that red Sea refolv'd it to a flood. 3. Indeed (on Calv'ry) Pains o' th' fecond birth Did pinch and grieve; but God's dear Strength Did foon relieve: and now at length, The child being wash'd and drefs'd, my God makes mirth. 'Tis no mean trade, fuch Carpentry. 16. The king of terrors I could dare Then others mention Galilee, The Place of his extraction. Alas! his Birth place you've not feen; 'Tis high, and gulphs do ftand be ers? Yet light that load, to th' Penalty A Field now plow'd in furrows, That Sin's each Weed there bury'd deep May wither, and for ever fleep; Thefe Holes are finners burrows. 4.Satan and fin, Lord, thro' thyHeart Did fhoot in th'tragic story. Tho Sinai's cannons play'd their part, No Bone they broke: thy glory Till I once fee. (fince thou doft 'bide A Rock) myself in thee I'll hide. Why fhould not thy dear Body With me furpass both fame and pelf, Yea life, as with Joseph himself, Who took it pale and bloody? 5. Great Conqueror! thou'rt lodg'd in ftone, Having flain Death in th'Duel: My Heart, tho' hard, and next to none, Sure better for that Jewel Might be a happy cabinet ! But Jofeph's rock was new and neat; According to thy option, Both in the Womb and in the Tomb, Where none had lain, to feek thy room: If my Lord now would quarter Though 't has been a Deferter. O make then thro' thy merit Sallet. Seeing him fo drefs'd, Girt with a napkin,fcarce had guess'd As Bread and Wine, fo Water too he takes; Heav'n stoops to meet, And bow as low As finners Feet: Here, Lord, make mild exception! O what clean work Chrift's Blood 8 and Spirit makes! 3. 'Twas |