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XVII. SIN.

ORD, with what care haft thou begirt us round!
Parents first season us: then schoolmasters

Deliver us to laws; they send us bound

To rules of reafon, holy meffengers,

Pulpits and fundays, forrow dogging fin,
Afflictions forted, anguifh of all fizes,
Fine nets and stratagems to catch us in,

Bibles laid open, millions of furprises,

Bleffings beforehand, ties of gratefulness,

The found of glory ringing in our ears;
Without, our shame; within, our consciences;

Angels and grace, eternal hopes and fears.

Yet all these fences and their whole array
One cunning bofom-fin blows quite away.

WHEN

XVIII. AFFLICTION.

HEN firft thou didst entice to thee my heart,
I thought the service brave:

So many joys I writ down for my part,

Besides what I might have

Out of my stock of natural delights,

Augmented with thy gracious benefits.

I looked on thy furniture fo fine,

And made it fine to me;

Thy glorious household-stuff did me entwine,
And 'tice me unto thee.

Such ftars I counted mine: both heaven and earth Paid me my wages in a world of mirth.

What pleasures could I want, whose King I ferved, Where joys my fellows were?

Thus argued into hopes, my thoughts reserved

Therefore my

No place for grief or fear;

fudden foul caught at the place,

And made her youth and fierceness seek thy face:

At first thou gavest me milk and sweetnesses ;
I had wish and way:

my

My days were strew'd with flowers and happiness;
There was no month but May.

But with my years forrow did twist and grow,
And made a party unawares for woe.

My flesh began unto my foul in pain,

Sickneffes clave my bones,
Confuming agues dwell in every vein,

And tune my breath to groans:
Sorrow was all my foul; I scarce believed,
Till grief did tell me roundly, that I lived.

When I got health, thou took'st away my life,
And more; for my friends die:
My mirth and edge was loft; a blunted knife
Was of more use than I.

Thus thin and lean without a fence or friend,

I was blown through with every storm and wind.

Whereas my birth and spirit rather took

The way that takes the town;

Thou didst betray me to a lingering book,
And wrap me in a gown.

I was entangled in the world of ftrife,
Before I had the power to change my life.

Yet, for I threaten'd oft the fiege to raise,
Not fimpering all mine age,

Thou often didft with Academic praise

Melt and diffolve my rage.

I took thy fweeten'd pill, till I came near;
I could not go away, nor persevere.

Yet left perchance I should too happy be
In my unhappiness,

Turning my purge to food, thou throwest me
Into more fickneffes.

Thus doth thy power cross-bias me, not making
Thine own gift good, yet me from my ways taking.

Now I am here, what thou wilt do with me

None of my books will show:

I read, and figh, and wish I were a tree;

For fure then I should grow

To fruit or fhade: at least some bird would truft
Her household to me, and I should be juft.

Yet, though thou troubleft me, I must be meek;
In weakness must be ftout.

Well, I will change the fervice, and go feek
Some other master out.

Ah, my dear God! though I am clean forgot,
Let me not love thee, if I love thee not.

XIX. REPENTANCE.

Great is my fin. Oh! gently treat With thy quick flower, thy momentary bloom; Whofe life ftill preffing

Is one undreffing,

A fteady aiming at a tomb.

Man's age is two hours' work, or three ;
Each day doth round about us fee.
Thus are we to delights: but we are all

To forrows old,

If life be told

From what life feeleth, Adam's fall.

O let thy height of mercy then
Compaffionate short-breathed men,
Cut me not off for my most foul tranfgreffion:
I do confefs

My foolishness;

My God, accept of my confeffion.

Sweeten at length this bitter bowl, Which thou haft pour'd into my foul; Thy wormwood turn to health, winds to fair weather:

For if thou stay,

I and this day,

As we did rife, we die together.

When thou for fin rebukest man, Forthwith he waxeth woe and wan: Bitterness fills our bowels; all our hearts

Pine, and decay,

And drop away,

And carry with them the other parts.

But thou wilt fin and grief deftroy;
That fo the broken bones may joy,

And tune together in a well-set fong,

Full of his praises

Who dead men raises.

Fractures well cured make us more strong..

XX. FAITH.

ORD, how couldst thou so much appease
Thy wrath for fin, as when man's fight was

And could fee little, to regard his ease,
And bring by Faith all things to him?

Hungry I was, and had no meat:
I did conceit a moft delicious feaft;
I had it straight, and did as truly eat,
As ever did a welcome guest.

[dim,

There is a rare outlandish root,
Which when I could not get, I thought it here:
That apprehenfion cured fo well my foot,

That I can walk to heaven well near.