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Who would grudge pride and rage so short a power,
Who did foresee its fall, and dismal hour?
Who'd grudge God's patience to the greatest crime,
Which will 'scape vengeance for so short a time?
Who'd grudge at any wrong or suffering here,
Who saw the world of happiness so near?
If that one sun a thousand fold excel

This earth in bigness, where we sinners dwell;
(And what's one sun to all the heaven beside ?)
Is not God's kingdom glorious and wide?
Who then dare say, God's work is not well done,
Because an ant-hill is not made a sun?

Or because sin and devilish rage do dwell,
In this vile prison which is next to hell?
Who'd measure God's great kingdom or his love,
By us poor prisoners who in fetters move?

God placed man in earthly paradise,
Heaven's outward court, the way to highest bliss.
A man himself doing what God forbade,
His house a bedlam and a bridewell made;
Man turned it by his sinful base defection,
Into God's prison and house of correction.
God's wondrous mercies which do never fail,
Fetch many sons to heaven out of this jail.

If the rest finally neglect God's grace,
And choose no better than this sinful place,
The dream of pleasure which will end in shame,
They had their choice, and whom else can they blame?

Who'd censure God for one poor bedlam's sake,

But such as of his madness do partake?

And though he rage, and sober men disdains,
Who loves his case, or longeth for his chains?

Who envy wicked men their hurting power,
Who do believe their sad approaching hour?
Who the toad's hurtful venom envieth?
Who'd have the basilisk's pernicious breath?
Who longs to be a serpent for the sting?
It's worse to be a great, but hurtful king.

Christians by patience win a better crown,
Than all the bloody conquerors' renown.
True Christian kings, who rule in peace and love,
A better kingdom have with Christ above.
Our king may with more peace and safety rule,
Than the great Turk, Tartarian, or Mogul.

No king so mighty as the devil is,
Nor hath dominion so large as his.
Yet would no wise man such a devil be,
That he might be as powerful as he;
If any would be such, his own desire
Makes him a devil fitted for hell-fire.
Madness called wisdom is, and rules in chief,
With all that cannot see beyond this life:
To them that see not beyond flesh and blood,
And taste no better than these senses' food;
That know not the true everlasting good,
Nothing on earth is rightly understood.

The heavenly light must open sinners' eyes,
Before they ever will be truly wise:
One real prospect of the life to come,
A true belief whither men's souls are gone,
Would more felicitating wir 'on give,
Than foolish, sensual men will now believe.

Call not that wisdom which will end in shame,
Which undoes him who by it wins the game:
A wit that can deceive himself and others,
Wit to destroy his own soul, and his brothers':
Wit that can prove that sin's a harmless thing,
That sin's no sin, or no great hurt will bring;
That with the serpent can give God the lie,
And
say, believe not God, you shall not die.
Wit that can prove that God speaks but in jest,
That fleshly pleasure is man's best.

Wit that can prove God's wisdom is deceived,
And sacred Scriptures should not be received.
Wit to confute God's word, reject his grace,
Lose time, sin boldly, post towards hell apace.

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Defend the devil's cause, his own damnation,
Slight God, neglect a Saviour and salvation.
Call not that wisdom, which men would disown,
And wish at last that they had never known,
To go with honor, ease, and sport to hell,
And there with shame and late repentance dwell!
Truth is for goodness, wisdom's use and end,
To which true learning and just studies tend,
Is that this may be throughly understood,
"To be good, do good, and get endless good."
False wit employed in hurting other men,
Writes its own death in blood, with its own pen :
It forceth many to their self-defence,
Who fain would live in quiet innocence.

Kites, foxes, wolves, have wit to catch their prey,
Yet harmless sheep live quieter than they;
Men keep their flocks that they may multiply,
So that few by wolves and lions die ;

But hurtful ravenous beasts all men pursue,
While all destroy them, there remains but few.

Some slight God's word because weak men abuse it.
What's law or reason then, when all misuse it?
Men will not despise God, nor sin, nor die,
But they will give a learned reason why.
What is so false, which wit cannot defend,
And that by volumes confidently penned ?
Reason can justify the greatest wrong,
The basest lie can hire a learned tongue.
What cause so vile that cannot wit suborn?
Men will not without reason be forsworn.
Reason can make rogues of the best of men,
And make a church of saints a serpents' den;
Can make usurping Lucifer a saint,

And holy martyrs like to devils paint.
Even reverend wit, can by transforming skill,
Make heretics, and schismatics at will;

It can prove white is black, and black is white;
That night is day, and grossest darkness light.

Say what you will, reason can prove it true,
What is't that drunken reason cannot do?

gone,

How rare is that blest place, that age or season, Which may not own this characte. of reason? And must we therefore brutishness prefer, Because well-used reason is so rare ? But when the drunken phrensy fit is And devils their deceiving work have done; When death the dreaming sinner doth awake, O what a dreadful change doth God then make? Then wise men only are the pure and just, Who Christ, who God obey, and in him trust.

A PSALM OF PRAISE.

YE holy angels bright,

Which stand before God's throne,

And dwell in glorious light,

Praise ye the Lord each one.

You there so nigh

Are much more meet

Than we the feet,

For things so high.

You blessed souls at rest,

That see your Saviour's face,

Whose glory, even the least,

Is far above our grace;
God's praises found,

As in his sight,
With sweet delight
You do abound.

All nations of the earth,

Extol the world's great King;

With melody and mirth,

His glorious praises sing.

For he still reigns,
And will bring low,
The proudest foe,
That him disdains.

Sing forth Jehovah's praise,

Ye saints that on him call:

Magnify him always,

His holy churches all :

In him rejoice;

And there proclaim

His holy name,

With sounding voice.

My soul, bear thou thy part:
Triumph in God above;

With a well-tuned heart,

Sing thou the songs of love.
Thou art his own,

Whose precious blood

Shed for thy good,

His love made known.

He did in love begin,

Renewing thee by grace,

Forgiving all thy sin,

Showed thee his pleased face.

He did thee heal

By his Son's merit,
And by his Spirit
For glory seal.

In saddest thoughts and grief,

In sickness, fears, and pain,

I cried for his relief,

And it was not in vain.

He heard with speed;
And still I found

Mercy abound,

In time of need.

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