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Death comes behind:

The work is done before the pay be due.

I fay thou art the devil's work; Yet he
Should much rather

Call thee father;

For he had been no devil but for thee.

What fhall I call thee then? If death and devil, Right understood,

Be names too good,

I'll fay thou art the quintessence of evil.

L. TRAVELS AT HOME.

FT have I wish'd a traveller to be:

OF

Mine eyes did even itch the fights to fee,

That I had heard and read of. Oft I have
Been greedy of occafion, as the grave,
That never fays, enough; yet ftill was croft,
When opportunities had promised most.
At laft I faid, what mean'ft thou, wandering elf,
To ftraggle thus? Go travel first thyself.
Thy little world can fhow thee wonders great:
The greater may have more, but not more neat
And curious pieces. Search, and thou shalt find
Enough to talk of. If thou wilt, thy mind
Europe fupplies, and Afia thy will,

And Afric thine affections. And if ftill
Thou lift to travel further, put thy fenfes

For both the Indies. Make no more pretences,

Of new discoveries, whilst yet thine own,
And nearest, little world is ftill unknown.
Away then with thy quadrants, compaffes,
Globes, tables, cards, and maps, and minute glasses:
Lay by thy journals, and thy diaries,

Clofe up thine annals, and thine histories.
Study thyself, and read what thou haft writ
In thine own book, thy conscience. Is it fit
To labour after other knowledge fo,

And thine own nearest, dearest, self not know?
Travels abroad both dear and dangerous are,
Whilst oft the foul pays for the body's fare:
Travels at home are cheap, and fafe. Salvation
Comes mounted on the wings of meditation.
He that doth live at home, and learns to know
God and himself, needeth no further go.

L

LI. THE JOURNEY.

IFE is a journey. From our mothers' wombs,

As houses, we set out: and in our tombs,
As Inns, we reft, till it be time to rife.

"Twixt rocks and gulfs our narrow foot-path lies:
Haughty prefumption and hell-deep despair
Make our way dangerous, though feeming fair.
The world, with its enticements sleek and fly,
Slabbers our steps, and makes them slippery.
The flesh, with its corruptions, clogs our feet,
And burdens us with loads of lufts unmeet.
The devil where we tread, doth spread his fnares,
And with temptations takes us unawares.

Our footsteps are our thoughts, our words, our works:
Thefe carry us along; in these there lurks
Envy, lust, avarice, ambition,

The crooked turnings to perdition.

One while we creep amongst the thorny brakes
Of worldly profits; and the devil takes
Delight to fee us pierce ourselves with forrow
To-day, by thinking what may be to-morrow.
Another while we wade, and wallow in
Puddles of pleasure: and we never lin
Daubing ourselves, with dirty damn'd delights,
Till felf-begotten pain our pleasure frights.
Sometimes we scramble to get up the banks
Of icy honour; and we break our ranks
To step before our fellows; though, they fay,
He foonest tireth, that still leads the way.
Sometimes, when others juftle and provoke us,
We stir that duft ourselves, that serves to choke us ;
And raise those tempefts of contention, which
Blow us befide the way into the ditch.

Our minds should be our guides; but they are blind :
Our wills outrun our wits, or lag behind.
Our furious paffions, like unbridled jades,
Hurry us headlong to the infernal shades.

If God be not our guide, our guard, our friend,
Eternal death will be our journey's end.

M

LII. ENGINES.

EN often find, when nature's at a stand, And hath in vain tried all her utmost strength, That art, her ape, can reach her out a hand, To piece her powers with to a full length. And may not grace have means enough in store Wherewith to do as much as that, and more?

She may fhe hath engines of every kind,
To work, what art and nature, when they view,
Stupendous miracles of wonder find,

And yet must needs acknowledge to be true;

So far tranfcending all their power and might,
That they amazed stand e'en at the fight.

Take but three instances; faith, hope, and love.
Souls help'd by the perspective glass of faith
Are able to perceive what is above

The reach of reafon: yea, the Scripture faith,
E'en him that is invisible behold,

And future things, as if they'd been of old.

Faith looks into the fecret Cabinet
Of God's eternal Counsels, and doth fee
Such myfteries of glory there, as set
Believing hearts on longing, till they be
Transform'd to the fame image, and appear
So alter'd, as if themselves were there.

Faith can raise earth to heaven, or draw down
Heaven to earth, make both extremes to meet,
Felicity and mifery, can crown

Reproach with honour, season four with sweet.
Nothing's impoffible to faith: a man

May do all things that he believes he can.

Hope founded upon faith can raise the heart
Above itself in expectation

Of what the foul defireth for its part:
Then, when its time of transmigration
Is delay'd longest, yet as patiently

To wait, as if 'twere answer'd by and by.

When grief unwieldy grows, hope can abate
The bulk to what proportion it will:
So that a large circumference of late
A little centre fhall not reach to fill.

Nor that, which giant-like before did ftrout,
Be able with a pigmy's pace to hold out.

Hope can difperfe the thickeft clouds of night,
That fear hath overspread the foul withal;
And make the darkest shadows shine as bright
As the Sun-beams spread on a filver wall.

Sin-fhaken fouls Hope anchor-like holds steady,
When ftorm and tempests make them more than
[giddy.
Love led by faith, and fed with hope, is able
To travel through the world's wide wilderness;
And burdens feeming most intolerable
Both to take up, and bear with cheerfulness.
To do, or fuffer, what appears in fight
Extremely heavy, love will make most light.

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