Upon the Epiphany, and the three wise Men of the East coming to worship Jesus. A COMET, dangling in the air, Presag'd the ruin both of death and sin; Till they appear In this blest infant King's propitious eye, Present ourselves before thy majesty, W' have nothing but ourselves, and scarce that neither, Yet it is soft, and may Accept it, Lord, and say, this thou hadst rather; Thy holy image, and it shall outshine The beauty of the golden mine. Amen. A MEDITATION OF THE FOUR LAST THINGS, DEATH, JUDGMENT, HEAVEN, AND HELL; FOR THE TIME OF LENT ESPECIALLY. A Meditation of Death. DEATH, the old serpent's son, Thou hadst a sting once, like thy sire, Thy foolish spite buried thy sting In the profound and wide Wound of our Saviour's side: And now thou art become a tame and harmless thing, That our triumphant God to punish thee A porter to the gate of life, thy mortal enemy, And thither fly, Let us into the courts of heaven, through thee! Of the Day of Judgment. GREAT Judge of all, how we vile wretches quake! Our marrow freezes, when we think And horrid phials, thou shalt make When thou the winepress of thy wrath shalt tread Sinful rebellious clay! what unknown place When earth shall vanish from thy sight, But observ'd Thy laws, shall from thy presence take their flight, And kill'd with glory, their bright eyes stark dead Start from their head: Lord, how shall we, Thy enemies, endure to see So bright, so killing majesty? Mercy, dear Saviour: thy judgment seat We are condemn'd already, there. On thy book Of life; Lord, we can read the saving Jesus, here, And in his name our own salvation see: O BEAUTEOUS God, uncircumscribed treasure Of an eternal pleasure, Thy throne is seated far Above the highest star, That builds his hopes on thy merit, Can speak, or think, or see, Where the great King's transparent throne There the eye O' th' chrysolite, And a sky Of diamonds, rubies, chrysoprase, And, above all, thy holy face Makes an eternal clarity. When thou thy jewels up dost bind, that day Remember us, we pray,— That where the beryl lies And the crystal, 'bove the skies, There thou may'st appoint us place Within the brightness of thy face; In the scroll Of life and blissfulness enrol, That we may praise thee to eternity. Allelujah! Of Hell. HORRID darkness, sad and sore; And an eternal night! Groans and shrieks, and thousands more In the want of glorious light! In the accursed lake: Seas of fire, beds of snow, Are the best delights below: A viper from the fire That knows not moments from eternity. Spring of eternal light, Allelujahs, hymns, and psalms, And coronets of palms, Fill thy temple evermore. O mighty God, Let not thy bruising rod Crush our loins with an eternal pressure; And none be left to glorify How thou hast sav'd our souls from hell. Mercy! On the Conversion of St. Paul. FULL of wrath, his threatening breath By a voice and a light, To beautify one day, It would not show so glorious and so bright. That day might break within; And by those beams of faith, Make him of a child of wrath Become a vessel full of glory. Lord, curb us in our dark and sinful way; We humbly pray; When we down horrid precipices run That this may be our story. |