En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Of Hell And The Estate of Those Who Perish

hus, having show'd you what I see
Of heaven, I now will tell
You also, after search, what be
The damned wights of hell.

And O, that they who read my lines
Would ponder soberly,
And lay to heart such things betimes
As touch eternity.

The sleepy sinner little thinks
What sorrows will abound
Within him, when upon the brinks
Of Tophet he is found.

Hell is beyond all though a state
So doubtful[10] and forlorn,
So fearful, that none can relate
The pangs that there are born.

God will exclude them utterly
From his most blessed face,
And them involve in misery,
In shame, and in disgrace.

God is the fountain of all bliss,
Of life, of light, and peace;
They then must needs be comfortless
Who are depriv'd of these.

Instead of life, a living death
Will there in all be found.
Dyings will be in every breath,
Thus sorrow will abound.

No light, but darkness here doth dwell;
No peace, but horror strange:
The fearful damning wights[11] of hell
In all will make this change.

To many things the damned's woe
Is liked in the word,
And that because no one can show
The vengeance of the Lord.

Unto a dreadful burning lake,
All on a fiery flame,
Hell is compared, for to make
All understand the same.

A burning lake, a furnace hot,
A burning oven, too,
Must be the portion, share, and lot,
Of those which evil sow.

This plainly shows the burning heat
With which it will oppress
All hearts, and will like burnings eat
Their souls with sore distress.

This burning lake, it is God's wrath
Incensed by the sin
Of those who do reject his path,
And wicked ways walk in.

Which wrath will so perplex all parts
Of body and of soul,
As if up to the very hearts
In burnings they did roll.

Again, to show the stinking state
Of this so sad a case,
Like burning brimstone God doth make
The hidings of his face.

And truly as the steam, and smoke,
And flames of brimstone smell,
To blind the eyes, and stomach choke,
So are the pangs of hell.

To see a sea of brimstone burn,
Who would it not affright?
But they whom God to hell doth turn
Are in most woful plight.

This burning cannot quenched be,
No, not with tears of blood;
No mournful groans in misery
Will here do any good.

O damned men! this is your fate,
The day of grace is done,
Repentance now doth come too late,
Mercy is fled and gone.

Your groans and cries they sooner should
Have sounded in mine ears,
If grace you would have had, or would
Have me regard your tears.

Me you offended with your sin,
Instructions you did slight,
Your sins against my law hath been,
Justice shall have his right.

I gave my Son to do you good,
I gave you space and time
With him to close, which you withstood,
And did with hell combine.

Justice against you now is set,
Which you cannot appease;
Eternal justice doth you let
From either life or ease.

Thus he that to this place doth come
May groan, and sigh, and weep;
But sin hath made that place his home,
And there it will him keep.

Wherefore, hell in another place
Is call'd a prison too,
And all to show the evil case
Of all sin doth undo.

Which prison, with its locks and bars
Of God's lasting decree,
Will hold them fast; O how this mars
All thought of being free!

Out at these brazen bars they may
The saints in glory see;
But this will not their grief allay,
But to them torment be.

Thus they in this infernal cave
Will now be holden fast
From heavenly freedom, though they crave,
Of it they may not taste.

The chains that darkness on them hangs
Still ratt'ling in their ears,
Creates within them heavy pangs,
And still augments their fears.

Thus hopeless of all remedy,
They dyingly do sink
Into the jaws of misery,
And seas of sorrow drink.

For being cop'd[12] on every side
With helplessness and grief,
Headlong into despair they slide
Bereft of all relief.

Therefore this hell is called a pit,
Prepared for those that die
The second death, a term most fit
To show their misery.

A pit that's bottomless is this,
A gulf of grief and woe,
A dungeon which they cannot miss,
That will themselves undo.

Thus without stay they always sink,
Thus fainting still they fail,
Despair they up like water drink,
These prisoners have no bail.

Here meets them now that worm that gnaws,
And plucks their bowels out,
The pit, too, on them shuts her jaws;
This dreadful is, no doubt.

This ghastly worm is guilt for sin,
Which on the conscience feeds,
With vipers' teeth, both sharp and keen,
Whereat it sorely bleeds.

This worm is fed by memory,
Which strictly brings to mind,
All things done in prosperity,
As we in Scripture find.

No word, nor thought, nor act they did,
But now is set in sight,
Not one of them can now be hid,
Memory gives them light.

On which the understanding still
Will judge, and sentence pass,
This kills the mind, and wounds the will,
Alas, alas, alas!

O, conscience is the slaughter shop,
There hangs the axe and knife,
'Tis there the worm makes all things hot,
And wearies out the life.

Here, then, is execution done
On body and on soul;
For conscience will be brib'd of none,
But gives to all their dole.

This worm, 'tis said, shall never die,
But in the belly be
Of all that in the flames shall lie,
O dreadful sight to see!

This worm now needs must in them live,
For sin will still be there,
And guilt, for God will not forgive,
Nor Christ their burden bear.

But take from them all help and stay,
And leave them to despair,
Which feeds upon them night and day,
This is the damned's share.

Now will confusion so possess
These monuments of ire,
And so confound them with distress,
And trouble their desire.

That what to think, or what to do,
Or where to lay their head,
They know not; 'tis the damned's woe
To live, and yet be dead.

These cast-aways would fain have life,
But know, they never shall,
They would forget their dreadful plight,
But that sticks fast'st of all.

God, Christ, and heaven, they know are best,
Yet dare not on them think,
The saints they know in joys do rest,
While they their tears do drink.

They cry alas, but all in vain,
They stick fast in the mire,
They would be rid of present pain,
Yet set themselves on fire.

Darkness is their perplexity,
Yet do they hate the light,
They always see their misery,
Yet are themselves all night.

They are all dead, yet live they do,
Yet neither live nor die.
They die to weal, and live to woe,
This is their misery.

Amidst all this so great a scare
That here I do relate,
Another falleth to their share
In this their sad estate.

The legions of infernal fiends
Then with them needs must be,
A just reward for all their pains,
This they shall feel and see.

With yellings, howlings, shrieks, and cries,
And other doleful noise,
With trembling hearts and failing eyes,
These are their hellish joys.

These angels black they would obey,
And serve with greedy mind,
And take delight to go astray,
That pleasure they might find.

Which pleasure now like poison turns
Their joy to heaviness;
Yea, like the gall of asps it burns,
And doth them sore oppress

Now is the joy they lived in
All turned to brinish tears,
And resolute attempts to sin
Turn'd into hellish fears.

The floods run trickling down their face,
Their hearts do prick and ache,
While they lament their woful case,
Their loins totter and shake.

O wetted cheeks, with bleared eyes,
How fully do you show
The pangs that in their bosom lies,
And grief they undergo!

Their dolour in their bitterness
So greatly they bemoan,
That hell itself this to express
Doth echo with their groan.

Thus broiling on the burning grates,
They now to wailing go,
And say of those unhappy fates
That did them thus undo.

Alas, my grief! hard hap had I
Those dolours here to find,
A living death, in hell I lie,
Involv'd with grief of mind.

I once was fair for light and grace,
My days were long and good;
I lived in a blessed place
Where was most heav'nly food.

But wretch I am, I slighted life,
I chose in death to live;
O, for these days now, if I might,
Ten thousand worlds would give.

What time had I to pray and read,
What time to hear the word!
What means to help me at my need,
Did God to me afford!

Examples, too, of piety
I every day did see,
But they abuse and slight did I,
O, woe be unto me.

I now remember how my friend
Reproved me of vice,
And bid me mind my latter end,
Both once, and twice, and thrice.

But O, deluded man, I did
My back upon him turn;
Eternal life I did not heed,
For which I now do mourn.

Ah, golden time, I did thee spend
In sin and idleness,
Ah, health and wealth, I did you lend
To bring me to distress.

My feet to evil I let run,
And tongue of folly talk;
My eyes to vanity hath gone,
Thus did I vainly walk.

I did as greatly toil and strain
Myself with sin to please,
As if that everlasting grain
Could have been found in these.

But nothing, nothing have I found
But weeping, and alas,
And sorrow, which doth now surround
Me, and augment my cross.

Ah, bleeding conscience, how did I
Thee check when thou didst tell
Me of my faults, for which I lie
Dead while I live in hell.

I took thee for some peevish foe,
When thou didst me accuse,
Therefore I did thee buffet so,
And counsel did refuse.

Thou often didst me tidings bring,
How God did me dislike,
Because I took delight in sin,
But I thy news did slight.

Ah, Mind, why didst thou do those things
That now do work my woe?
Ah, Will, why was thou thus inclin'd
Me ever to undo?

My senses, how were you beguil'd
When you said sin was good?
It hath in all parts me defil'd,
And drown'd me like a flood.

Ah, that I now a being have,
In sorrow and in pain;
Mother, would you had been my grave,
But this I wish in vain.

Had I been made a cockatrice,
A toad, or such-like thing;[13]
Yea, had I been made snow or ice,
Then had I had no sin;

A block, a stock, a stone, or clot,
Is happier than I;
For they know neither cold nor hot,
To live nor yet to die.

I envy now the happiness
Of those that are in light,
I hate the very name of bliss,
'Cause I have there no right.

I grieve to see that others are
In glory, life, and well,
Without all fear, or dread, or care,
While I am racked in hell.

Thus will these souls with watery eyes,
And hacking of their teeth,
With wringing hands, and fearful cries,
Expostulate their grief.

O set their teeth they will, and gnash,
And gnaw for very pain,
While as with scorpions God doth lash
Them for their life so vain.

Again, still as they in this muse,
Are feeding on the fire,
To mind there comes yet other news,
To screw their torments higher.

Which is the length of this estate,
Where they at present lie;
Which in a word I thus relate,
'Tis to eternity.

This thought now is so firmly fix'd
In all that comes to mind,
And also is so strongly mix'd
With wrath of every kind.

So that whatever they do know,
Or see, or think, or feel,
For ever still doth strike them through
As with a bar of steel.

For EVER shineth in the fire,
EVER is on the chains;
'Tis also in the pit of ire,
And tastes in all their pains.

For ever separate from God,
From peace, and life, and rest;
For ever underneath the rod
That vengeance liketh best.

O ever, ever, this will drown'd
Them quite and make them cry,
We never shall get o'er thy bound,
O, great eternity!

They sooner now the stars may count
Than lose these dismal bands;
Or see to what the motes[14] among
Or number up the sands.

Then see an end of this their woe,
Which now for sin they have;
O wantons, take heed what you do,
Sin will you never save.

They sooner may drink up the sea,
Than shake off these their fears;
Or make another in one day
As big with brinish tears;

Than put an end to misery,
In which they now do roar,
Or help themselves; no, they must cry,
Alas, for evermore.

When years by thousands on a heap
Are passed o'er their head;
Yet still the fruits of sin they reap
Among the ghostly dead.

Yea, when they have time out of mind
Be in this case so ill,
For EVER, EVER is behind[15]
Yet for them to fulfill.

poem by John Bunyan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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From Mount Ebal

Thus having heard from Gerizzim, I shall
Next come to Ebal, and you thither call,

Not there to curse you, but to let you hear
How God doth curse that soul that shall appear

An unbelieving man, a graceless wretch;
Because he doth continue in the breach

Of Moses' law, and also doth neglect
To close with Jesus; him will God reject

And cast behind him; for of right his due
Is that from whence all miseries ensue.

Cursed, saith he, are thy that do transgress
The least of my commandments, more or less.

Nothing that written is must broken be,
But always must be kept unto by thee,

And must fulfilled be; for here no man
Can look God in the face, or ever stand

Before the judgment-seat; for if they be
Convict, condemned too assuredly.

Now keep this law no mortal creature can,
For they already do, as guilty, stand

Before the God that gave it; so that they
Obnoxious to the curse lie every day,

Which also they must feel for certainty,
If unto Jesus Christ they do not fly.

Hence, then, as they for ever shall be blest,
That do by faith upon the promise rest,

So peace unto the wicked there is none;
'Tis wrath and death that they must feed upon.

That what I say may some impression make
On carnal hearts, that they in time may take

That course that best will prove when time is done,
These lines I add to what I have begun.

First, thou must know that God, as he is love
So he is justice, therefore cannot move,

Or in the least be brought to favour those
His holiness and justice doth oppose.

For though thou mayst imagine in thy heart
That God is this or that, yet if thou art

At all besides the truth of what he is,
And so dost build thy hope for life amiss,

Still he the same abideth, and will be
The same, the same for ever unto thee.

As God is true unto his promise, so
Unto his threat'ning he is faithful too.

Cease to be God he must, if he should break
One tittle that his blessed mouth did speak.

Now, then, none can be saved but the men
With whom the Godhead is contented when

It them beholds with the severest eye
Of justice, holiness, and yet can spy

No fault nor blemish in them; these be they
That must be saved, as the Scriptures say.

If this be true, as 'tis assuredly,
Woe be to them that wicked live and die;

Those that as far from holiness have been
All their life long as if no eye had seen

Their doings here, or as if God did not
At all regard, or in the least mind what,

Wherein, or how they did his law transgress,
Either by this or other wickedness;

But how deceived these poor creatures are,
They then shall know when they their burthen bear.

Alas, our God is a consuming fire;
So is his law, by which he doth require

That thou submit to him, and if thou be
Not in that justice found that can save thee

From all and every sentence which he spake
Upon mount Sinai, then as one that brake

It, thou the flames thereof shall quickly find
As scourges thee to lash, while sins do bind

Thee hand and foot, for ever to endure
The strokes of vengeance for thy life impure.

What I have said will yet evinced be,
And manifest abundantly to thee,

If what I have already spoken to
Be joined with these lines that do ensue.

Justice discovers its antipathy
Against profaneness and malignity.

Not only by the law it gave to men,
And threatenings thereunto annexed then.

But inasmuch as long before that day,
He did prepare for such as go astray,

That dreadful, that so much amazing place–
Hell, with its torments–for those men that grace

And holiness of life slight and disdain,
There to bemoan themselves with hellish pain.

This place, also, the pains so dismal be,
Both as to name and nature, that in me

It is not to express the damning wights,
The hellish torture, and the fearful plights

Thereof; for as intolerable they
Must needs be found, by those that disobey

The Lord, so can no word or thought express
Unto the full the height of that distress;

Such miserable caitiffs, that shall there
Rebukes of vengeance, for transgressions bear.

Indeed the holy Scriptures do make use
Of many metaphors, that do conduce

Much to the symbolizing of the place,
Unto our apprehension; but the case–

The sad, the woeful case–of those that lie
As racked there in endless misery,

By all similitudes no mortals may
Set forth in its own nature; for I say

Similitudes are but a shade, and show
Of those or that they signify to you.

The fire that doth within thine oven burn,
The prison where poor people sit and mourn,

Chains, racks, and darkness, and such others, be
As painting on the wall, to let thee see

By word and figures the extremity
Of such as shall within these burnings lie.

But certainly, if wickedness and sin
Had only foolish toys and trifles been,

And if God had not greatly hated it,
Yea, could he any ways thereof admit,

And let it pass, he would not thus have done.
He doth not use to punish any one

With any place or punishment that is
Above or sharper than the sin of his

Hath merited, and justice seeth due;
Read sin, then, by the death that doth ensue.

Most men do judge of sin, not by the fruits
It bears and bringeth forth, but as it suits

Their carnal and deluded hearts, that be
With sensual pleasures eaten up; but he

That now so judgeth, shortly shall perceive
That God will judge thereof himself, and leave

Such men no longer to their carnal lusts,
To judge of wickedness, and of the just

And righteous punishment that doth of right
Belong thereto; and will, too, in despite

Of all their carnal reason, justify
Himself, in their eternal misery.

Then hell will be no fancy, neither will
Men's sins be pleasant to them; but so ill

And bitter, yea, so bitter, that none can
Fully express the same, or ever stand

Under the burden it will on them lay,
When they from life and bliss are sent away.

When I have thought how often God doth speak
Of their destruction, who HIS law do break;

And when the nature of the punishment
I find so dreadful, and that God's intent,

Yea, resolution is, it to inflict
On every sinner that shall stand convict,

I have amazed been, yet to behold,
To see poor sinners yet with sin so bold,

That like the horse that to the battle runs,
Without all fear, and that no danger shuns,

Till down he falls. O resolute attempts!
O sad, amazing, damnable events!

The end of such proceedings needs must be,
From which, O Lord, save and deliver me.

But if thou think that God thy noble race
Will more respect, than into such a place

To put thee; hold, though thou his offspring be,
And so art lovely, yet sin hath made thee

Another kind of creature than when thou
Didst from his fingers drop, and therefore now

Thy first creation stands thee in no stead;
Thou hast transgressed, and in very deed

Set God against thee, who is infinite,
And that for certain never will forget

Thy sins, nor favour thee if thou shalt die
A graceless man; this is thy misery.

When angels sinned, though of higher race
Than thou, and also put in higher place,

Yet them he spared not, but cast them down
From heaven to hell; where also they lie bound

In everlasting chains, and no release
Shall ever have, but wrath, that shall increase

Upon them, to their everlasting woe.
As for the state they were exalted to,

That will by no means mitigate their fear,
But aggravate their hellish torment here;

For he that highest stands, if he shall fall,
His danger needs must be the great'st of all.

Now if God noble angels did not spare
Because they did transgress, will he forbear

Poor dust and ashes? Will he suffer them
To break his law, and sin, and not condemn

Them for so doing? Let not man deceive
Himself or others; they that do bereave

Themselves by sin of happiness, shall be
Cut off by justice, and have misery.

Witness his great severity upon
The world that first was planted, wherein none

But only eight the deluge did escape,
All others of that vengeance did partake;

The reason was, that world ungodly stood
Before him, therefore he did send the flood,

Which swept them all away. A just reward
For their most wicked ways against the Lord,

Who could no longer bear them and their ways,
Therefore into their bosom vengeance pays.

We read of Sodom, and Gomorrah too,
What judgments they for sin did undergo;

How God from heaven did fire upon them rain,
Because they would not wicked ways refrain;

Condemning of them with an overthrow,
And turned them to ashes. Who can know

The miseries that these poor people felt
While they did underneath those burnings melt?

Now these, and many more that I could name,
That have been made partakers of the flame

And sword of justice, God did then cut off,
And make examples unto all that scoff

At holiness, or do the gospel slight;
And long it will not be before the night

And judgment, painted out by what he did
To Sodom and Gomorrah, fulfilled

Upon such sinners be, that they may now
That God doth hate the sin, and persons too.

Of such as still rebellious shall abide,
Although they now at judgment may deride.

poem by John Bunyan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Of Death

Death, as a king rampant and stout
The world he dare engage;
He conquers all, yea, and doth rout
The great, strong, wise, and sage.

No king so great, nor prince so strong,
But death can make to yield,
Yea, bind and lay them all along,
And make them quit the field.

Where are the victors of the world,
With all their men of might?
Those that together kingdoms hurl'd,
By death are put to flight.

How feeble is the strongest hand,
When death begins to gripe!
The giant now leaves off to stand,
Much less withstand and fight.

The man that hath a lion's face
Must here give place and bend,
Yea, though his bones were bars of brass,
'Tis vain here to contend.

Submit he must to feeble ones,
To worms who will enclose
His skin and flesh, sinews and bones,
And will thereof dispose

Among themselves, as merchants do
The prizes they have got;
Or as the soldiers give unto
Each man the share and lot,

Which they by dint of sword have won,
From their most daring foe;
While he lies by as still as stone,
Not knowing what they do.

Beauty death turns to rottenness,
And youth to wrinkled face;
The witty he brings to distress,
And wantons to disgrace.

The wild he tames, and spoils the mirth
Of all that wanton are,
He takes the worldling from his worth,
And poor man from his care.

Death favours none, he lays at all,
Of all sorts and degree;
Both old and young, both great and small,
Rich, poor, and bound, and free.

No fawning words will flatter him,
Nor threat'nings make him start;
He favours none for worth or kin,
All must taste of his dart.

What shall I say? the graves declare
That death shall conquer all;
There lie the skulls, dust, bones, and there
The mighty daily fall.

The very looks of death are grim
And ghastly to behold;
Yea, though but in a dead man's skin,
When he is gone and cold.

How 'fraid are some of dead men's beds,
And others of their bones;
They neither care to see their heads,
Nor yet to hear their groans.

Now all these things are but the shade
And badges of his coat;[3]
The glass that runs, the scythe and spade,
Though weapons more remote:

Yet such as make poor mortals shrink
And fear, when they are told,
These things are signs that they must drink
With death; O then how cold.

It strikes them to the heart! how do
They study it to shun!
Indeed who can bear up, and who
Can from these shakings run?

But how much more then when he comes
To grapple with thy heart;
To bind with thread thy toes and thumbs,[4]
And fetch thee in his cart?

Then will he cut thy silver cord,
And break thy golden bowl;
Yea, break that pitcher which the Lord
Made cabin for thy soul.

Thine eyes, that now are quick of sight,
Shall then no way espy
How to escape this doleful plight,
For death will make thee die.

Those legs that now can nimbly run,
Shall then with faintness fail
To take one step, death's dart to shun,
When he doth thee assail.

That tongue that now can boast and brag
Shall then by death be tied
So fast, as not to speak or wag,
Though death lies by thy side.

Thou that didst once incline thine ear
Unto the song and tale,
Shall only now death's message hear,
While he, with face most pale,

Doth reason with thee how thy days
Hath hitherto been spent;
And what have been thy deeds and ways,
Since God thee time hath lent.

Then will he so begin to tear
Thy body from thy soul,
And both from life, if now thy care
Be not on grace to roll.

Death puts on things another face
Than we in health do see:
Sin, Satan, hell, death, life and grace
Now great and weighty be.

Yea, now the sick man's eye is set
Upon a world to come:
He also knows too without let[5]
That there must be his home.

Either in joy, in bliss and light,
Or sorrow, woe, and grief;
Either with Christ and saints in white,
Or fiends, without relief.

But, O! the sad estate that then
They will be in that die
Both void of grace and life! poor men!
How will they fear and cry.

Ha! live I may not, though I would
For life give more than all;
And die I dare not, though I should
The world gain by my fall.

No, here he must no longer stay,
He feels his life run out,
His night is come, also the day
That makes him fear and doubt.

He feels his very vitals die,
All waxeth pale and wan;
Nay, worse, he fears to misery
He shortly must be gone.

Death doth already strike his heart
With his most fearful sting
Of guilt, which makes his conscience start,
And quake at every thing.

Yea, as his body doth decay
By a contagious grief,
So his poor soul doth faint away
Without hope or relief.

Thus while the man is in this scare,
Death doth still at him lay;
Live, die, sink, swim, fall foul or fair,[6]
Death still holds on his way.

Still pulling of him from his place,
Full sore against his mind;
Death like a sprite stares in his face,
And doth with links him bind.

And carries him into his den,
In darkness there to lie,
Among the swarms of wicked men
In grief eternally.

For only he that God doth fear
Will now be counted wise:
Yea, he that feareth him while here,
He only wins the prize.

'Tis he that shall by angels be
Attended to that bliss
That angels have; for he, O he,
Of glory shall not miss.

Those weapons and those instruments
Of death, that others fright:
Those dreadful fears and discontents
That brings on some that night.

That never more shall have a day,
Brings this man to that rest
Which none can win but only they
Whom God hath called and blest

With the first fruits of saving grace,
With faith, hope, love, and fear
Him to offend; this man his face
In visions high and clear,

Shall in that light which no eye can
Approach unto, behold
The rays and beams of glory, and
Find there his name enroll'd,

Among those glittering starts of light
That Christ still holdeth fast
In his right hand with all his might,
Until that danger's past,

That shakes the world, and most hath dropt
Into grief and distress,
O blessed then is he that's wrapt
In Christ his righteousness.

This is the man death cannot kill,
For he hath put on arms;
Him sin nor Satan hath not skill
To hurt with all their charms.

A helmet on his head doth stand,
A breastplate on his heart:
A shield also is in his hand,
That blunteth every dart.

Truth girds him round the reins, also
His sword is on his thigh;
His feet in shoes of peace do go
The ways of purity.

His heart it groaneth to the Lord,
Who hears him at his call,
And doth him help and strength afford,
Wherewith he conquers all.

Thus fortified, he keeps the field
While death is gone and fled;
And then lies down upon his shield
Till Christ doth raise the dead.

poem by John Bunyan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Short Discourse on Eternity

[ 1 ]

What Mortal man can with his Span
mete out Eternity?
Or fathom it by depth of Wit,
or strength of Memory?
The lofty Sky is not so high,
Hells depth to this is small:
The World so wide is but a stride,
compared therewithall.

Isa. 57:15
Mark. 3:29
Matt. 25:46

[ 2 ]

It is a main great Ocean,
withouten bank or bound:
A deep Abyss, wherein there is
no bottom to be found.
This World hath stood now since the Flood,
four thousand years well near,
And had before endured more
than sixteen hundred year.

[ 3 ]

But what's the time from the Worlds prime,
unto this present day,
If we thereby Eternity
to measure should assay?
The whole duration since the Creation,
though long, yet is more little,
If placed by Eternity,
then is the smallest tittle.

[ 4 ]

Tell every Star both near and far,
in Heav'ns bright Canopee,
That doth appear throughout the year,
of high or low degree:
Tell every Tree that thou canst see
in this vast Wilderness,
Up in the Woods, down by the Floods,
in thousand miles progress.

[ 5 ]

The sum is vast, yet not so vast,
but that thou may'st go on
To multiply the Leaves thereby,
that hang those Trees upon:
Add thereunto the Drops, that thou
imaginest to be
In April Show'rs, that bring forth Flow'rs,
and blossoms plenteously:

[ 6 ]

Number the Fowls and living Souls
that through the Air do Fly,
The winged Hosts in all their Coasts
beneath the Starry Sky:
Count all the Grass as thou dost pass
through many a pasture-land,
And dewy Drops that on the tops
of Herbs and Plants do stand.

[ 7 ]

Number the Sand upon the Stran,
and Atomes of the Air;
And do thy best on Man and Beast,
to reckon every Hair:
Take all the Dust, if so thous lust,
and add to thine Account:
Yet shall the Years of sinners tears,
the Number far surmount.

2 Thes. 1:9
Rev. 14:11

[ 8 ]

Nought joyn'd to nought can ne're make ought,
nor Cyphers make a Sum:
Nor things Finite, to infinite
by multipying come:
A Cockle-shell may serve as well
to lade the Ocean dry,
As finite things and Reckonings
to bound Eternity.

[ 9 ]

O happy they that live for aye,
with Christ in Heav'n above!
Who know withal, that nothing shall
deprive them of his love.
Eternity, Eternity!
Oh, were it not for thee,
The Saints in bliss and happiness
could never happy be.

1 Thes. 4:17
Rom. 8:38, 39

[ 10 ]

For if they were in any fear,
that this their joy might cease,
It would annoy (if not destroy)
and interrupt their peace:
But being sure it shall endure
so long as God shall live;
The thoughts of this unto their bliss,
do full perfection give.

1 John 4:18
John 6:35, 40, 51
Rev. 21:4

[ 11 ]

Cheer up, ye Saints, amidst your wants,
and sorrows many a one,
Lift up the head, shake off all dread,
and moderate your mone.
Your sufferings and evil things
will suddenly be past;
Your sweet Fruitions, and blessed Visions,
for evermore shall last.

Heb. 12:12
2 Cor. 4:17
Psal. 16:11

[ 12 ]

Lament and mourn you that must burn
amidst those flaming Seas:
If once you come to such a doom,
for ever farewel ease.
O sad estate and desparate,
that never can be mended,
Until Gods Will shall change, or till
Eternity be ended!

Luke 13:28
Matt. 25:41, 46
Rev. 14:11

[ 13 ]

If any one this Question
shall unto me propound:
What, have the years of sinners tears
no limits, or no bound?
It kills our heart to think of smart,
and pains that last for ever;
And hear of fire that shall expire,
or be extinguish'd never.

Mark. 9:43, 44

[ 14 ]

I'le Answer make (and let them take
my words as I intend them:
For this is all the Cordial
that here I have to lend them)
When Heav'n shall cease to flow with peace
and all felicity;
Then Hell may cease to be the place
of Wo and Misery.

[ 15 ]

When Heav'n is Hell, when Ill is Well,
when Vertue turns to Vice,
When wrong is Right, when Dark is Light,
When Nought is of great price:
Then may the years of sinners tears
and sufferings expire,
And all the hosts of damned ghosts
escape out of Hell-fire.

[ 16 ]

When Christ above shall cease to love,
when God shall cease to reign,
And be no more, as heretofore,
the Worlds great Sovereign,
Or not be just, or favour lust,
or in mens sins delight:
Then wicked men (and not till then)
to Heav'n may take their flight.

[ 17 ]

When Gods great Power shall be brought lower,
by forreign Puissance;
Or be decay'd, and weaker made
through Times continuance
When drowsiness shall him oppress,
and lay him fast asleep:
Then sinful men may break their pen,
and out of Prison creep.

[ 18 ]

When those in Glory shall be right sorry
they may not change their place,
And wish to dwell with them in Hell,
never to see Christs face:
Then those in pain may freedom gain,
and be with Glory bright:
Then Hellish Fiends may be Christ's Friends,
and heirs of Heaven hight.

[ 19 ]

Then, Ah poor men! what, not till then?
No, not an hour before:
For God is just, and therefore must
torment them evermore.
ETERNITY! ETERNITY!
thou mak'st hard hearts to bleed:
The thoughts of thee in misery,
do make men wail indeed.

[ 20 ]

When they remind what's still behind,
and ponder this word NEVER,
That they must here be made to bear
Gods Vengeance for EVER:
The thought of this more bitter is,
then all they feel beside,
Yet what they feel, nor heart of steel,
nor Flesh of Brass can bide.

Mark. 9:43, 44,
45, 46 &c.

[ 21 ]

To lye in wo, and undergo
the direful pains of Hell,
And know withall, that there they shall
for aye, and ever dwell;
And that they are from rest as far
when fifty thousand year,
Twice told, are spent in punishment,
as when they first came there.

2 Thes. 1:8, 9
Mat. 25:46
Rev. 14:10, 11

[ 22 ]

This, Oh! this makes Hells fiery flakes
much more intolerable;
This makes frail wights and damned sprights,
to bear their plagues unable.
This makes men bite, for fell despite,
their very tongues in twain:
This makes them rore for great horror,
and trebleth all their pain.

poem by Michael Wigglesworth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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From Mount Gerizzim

esides what I said of the Four Last Things,
And of the weal and woe that from them springs;

An after-word still runneth in my mind,
Which I shall here expose unto that wind

That may it blow into that very hand
That needs it. Also that it may be scann'd

With greatest soberness, shall be my prayer,
As well as diligence and godly care;

So to present it unto public view,
That only truth and peace may thence ensue.

My talk shall be of that amazing love
Of God we read of; which, that it may prove,

By its engaging arguments to save
Thee, I shall lay out that poor help I have

Thee to entice; that thou wouldst dearly fall
In love with thy salvation, and with all

That doth thereto concur, that thou mayst be
As blessed as the Blessed can make thee,

Not only here but in the world to come,
In bliss, which, I pray God, may be thy home.

But first, I would advise thee to bethink
Thyself, how sin hath laid thee at the brink

Of hell, where thou art lulled fast asleep
In Satan's arms, who also will thee keep

As senseless and secure as e'er he may,
Lest thou shouldst wake, and see't, and run away

Unto that Jesus, whom the Father sent
Into the world, for this cause and intent,

That such as thou, from such a thrall as this
Might'st be released, and made heir of bliss.

Now that thou may'st awake, the danger fly,
And so escape the death that others die,

Come, let me set my trumpet to thine ear,
Be willing all my message for to hear:

'Tis for thy life, O do it not refuse;
Wo unto them good counsel do abuse.

Thou art at present in that very case,
Which argues thou art destitute of grace:

For he that lies where sin hath laid him, lies
Under the curse, graceless, and so he dies

In body and in soul, within that range,
If God his heart in mercy doth not change

Before he goes the way of all the earth,
Before he lose his spirit and his breath.

Repentance there is none within the grave,
Nor Christ, nor grace, nor mercies for to save

Thee from the vengeance due unto thy sin,
If now thou dost not truly close with him.

Thou art like him that sleepeth in the sea
On broken boards, which, without guide or stay,

Are driven whither winds and water will;
While greedy beasts do wait to have their fill

By feeding on his carcass, when he shall
Turn overboard, and without mercy fall

Into the jaws of such as make a prey
Of those whom justice drowneth in the sea.

Thou art like him that snoring still doth lie
Upon the bed of vain security,

Whilst all about him into burning flame
By fire is turned; yea, and while the frame

And building where he lies consuming is,
And while himself these burnings cannot miss.

Thou art like one that hangeth by a thread
Over the mouth of hell, as one half-dead;

And O, how soon this thread may broken be,
Or cut by death, is yet unknown to thee!

But sure it is, if all the weight of sin,
And all that Satan, too, hath doing been,

Or yet can do, can break this crazy thread,
'Twill not be long before, among the dead,

Thou tumble do, as linked fast in chains,
With them to wait in fear for future pains.

What shall I say? Wilt thou not yet awake?
Nor yet of thy poor soul some pity take?

Among the lions it hood-winked lies;
O, that the Lord would open once thine eyes

That thou might'st see it, then I dare say thou,
As half-bereft of wits, wouldst cry out, How

Shall I escape? Lord help, O! help with speed,
Reach down thy hand from heav'n, for help I need,

To save me from the lions, for I fear
This soul of mine they will in pieces tear.

Come, then, and let us both expostulate
The case betwixt us, till we animate

And kindle in our hearts that burning love
To Christ, to grace, to life, that we may move

Swifter than eagles to this blessed prey;
Then shall it be well with us in that day

The trump shall sound, the dead made rise, and stand,
Then to receive, for breach of God's command,

Such thunder-claps as these, Depart from me
Into hell-fire, you that the wicked be,

Prepared for the devil, and for those
That with him and his angels rather chose

To live in filthy sin and wickedness,
Whose fruit is everlasting bitterness.

We both are yet on this side of the grave,
We also gospel-privileges have;

The word, and time to pray; God give us hearts,
That, like the wise man, we may act our parts,

To get the pearl of price; then we shall be
Like godly Mary, Peter, Paul, and we

Like Jacob, too, the blessing shall obtain;
While Esau rides a-hunting for the gain

Of worldly pelf, which will him not avail
When death or judgment shall him sore assail.

Now, to encourage us for to begin,
Let us believe the kingdom we may win,

And be possess'd thereof, if we the way
Shall hit into, and then let nothing stay

Or hinder us; the crown is at the end,
Let's run and strive, and fly, and let's contend

With greatest courage it for to obtain;
'Tis life, and peace, and everlasting gain.

The gate of life, the new and living way,
The promise holdeth open all the day,

Which thou by Jacob's ladder must ascend,
Where angels always wait, and do attend

As ministers, to minister for those
That do with God, and Christ, and glory close.

If guilt of sin still lieth at our door,
Us to discourage, let us set before

Our eyes a bleeding Jesus, who did die
The death, and let's believe the reason why

He did it, was that we might ever be
From death and sin, from hell and wrath set free.

Yea, let's remember for that very end
It was his blessed Father did him send;

That he the law of God might here fulfil,
That so the mystery of his blessed will

Might be revealed in the blessedness
Of those that fly to Christ for righteousness.

Now let us argue with ourselves, then, thus
That Jesus Christ our Lord came to save us,

By bearing of our sins upon his back,
By hanging on the cross as on a rack,

While justice cut him off on every side,
While smiles Divine themselves from him did hide,

While earth did quake, and rocks in pieces rent,
And while the sun, as veiled, did lament

To see the innocent and harmless die
So sore a death, so full of misery.

Yea, let us turn again, and say, All this
He did and suffered for love of his.

He brought in everlasting righteousness,
That he might cover all our nakedness;

He wept and wash'd his face with brinish tears
That we might saved be from hellish fears;

Blood was his sweat, too, in his agony,
That we might live in joyful ecstasy;

He apprehended was and led away,
That grace to us-ward never might decay.

With swords, and bills, and outrage in the night,
That to the peace of heav'n we might have right.

Condemned he was between two thieves to die,
That we might ever in his bosom lie;

Scourged with whips his precious body were,
That we lashes of conscience might not fear;

His head was crowned with thorns, that we might be
Crowned with glory and felicity;

He hanged was upon a cursed tree,
That we delivered from death might be;

His Father from him hides his smiles and face,
That we might have them in the heavenly place;

He cry'd, My God, why hast forsaken me?
That we forsaken of him might not be.

Into his side was thrust a bloody spear,
That we the sting of death might never fear;

He went into the grave after all this,
That we might up to heav'n go, and have bliss.

Yea, rise again he did out of the earth,
And shook off from him all the chains of death;

Then at his chariot wheels he captive led
His foes, and trod upon the serpent's head;

Riding in triumph to his Father's throne,
There to possess the kingdom as his own.

What say'st thou, wilt not yet unto him come?
His arms are open, in his heart is room

To lay thee; be not then discouraged,
Although thy sins be many, great, and red;

Unto thee righteousness he will impute,
And with the kisses of his mouth salute

Thy drooping soul, and will it so uphold,
As that thy shaking conscience shall be bold

To come to mercy's seat with great access,
There to expostulate with that justice

That burns like fiery flames against all those
That do not with this blessed Jesus close;

Which unto thee will do no harm, but good,
Because thou hast reliance on that blood

That justice saith hath given him content,
For all that do unfeignedly repent

Their ill-spent life, and roll upon free grace,
That they within that bosom might have place,

That open is to such, where they shall lie
In ease, and gladness, and felicity,

World without end, according to that state
I have, nay, better than I, can relate.

If thou shalt still object, thou yet art vile,
And hast a heart that will not reconcile

Unto the holy law, but will rebel,
Hark yet to what I shall thee farther tell.

Two things are yet behind that help thee will,
If God should put into thy mind that skill,

So to improve them as becometh those
That would with mercy and forgiveness close.

First, then, let this sink down into thy heart,
That Christ is not a Saviour in part,

But every way so fully he is made
That all of those that underneath his shade

And wing would sit, and shroud their weary soul,
That even Moses dare it not control,

But justify it, approve of 't, and conclude
No man nor angel must himself intrude

With such doctrine that may oppose the same,
On pain of blaspheming that holy name,

Which God himself hath given unto men,
To stay, to trust, to lean themselves on, when

They feel themselves assaulted, and made fear
Their sin will not let them in life appear.

For as God made him perfect righteousness,
That he his love might to the height express,

And us present complete before the throne;
Sanctification, too, of his own

He hath prepared, in which do we stand,
Complete in holiness, at his right hand.

Now this sanctification is not
That holiness which is in us, but that

Which in the person of this Jesus is,
And can inherently be only his.

But is imputed to us for our good.
As is his active righteousness and blood;

Which is the cause, though we infirm are found,
That mercy and forgiveness doth abound

To us-ward, and that why we are not shent[1]
And empty, and away rebuked sent,

Because that all we do imperfect is.
Bless God, then, for this holiness of his,

And learn to look by faith on that alone,
When thou seest thou hast nothing of thine own;

Yea, when thy heart most willing is to do
What God by his good word doth call thee to;

And when thou find'st most holiness within,
And greatest power over every sin,

Yet then to Jesus look, and thou shalt see
In him sanctification for thee,

Far more complete than all that thou canst find
In the most upright heart and willing mind,

That ever man or angels did possess,
When most filled with inherent righteousness.

Besides, if thou forgettest here to live,
And Satan get thee once into his sieve,

He will so hide thy wheat, and show thy brun[2]
That thou wilt quickly cry, I am undone.

Alas, thy goodliest attainments here,
Though like the fairest blossoms they appear,

How quickly will they lour and decay,
And be as if they all were fled away,

When once the east-wind of temptations beat
Upon thee, with their dry and blasting heat!

Rich men will not account their treasure lies
In crack'd groats and four-pence half-pennies,[3]

But in those bags they have within their chests,
In staple goods, which shall within their breasts

Have place accordingly, because they see
Their substance lieth here. But if that be

But shaken, then they quickly fear, and cry,
Alas, 'tis not this small and odd money,

We carry in our pockets for to spend,
Will make us rich, or much will stand our friend.

If famine or if want do us assail,
How quickly will these little pieces fail!

If thou be wise, consider what I say
And look for all in Christ, where no decay

Is like to be; then though thy present frame
Be much in up-and-down, yet he the same

Abideth, yea, and still at God's right hand,
As thy most perfect holiness will stand.

It is, I say, not like to that in thee,
Now high, then low, now out, then in, but he

Most perfect is, when thou art at the worst
The same, the very same; I said at first,

This helpeth much when thou art buffeted,
And when thy graces lie in thee as dead;

Then to believe they are all perfect still
In Christ thy head, who hath that blessed skill,

Yet to present thee by what is in him
Unto his Father, one that hath no sin.

Yea, this will fill thy mouth with argument
Against the tempter, when he shall present

Before thee all thy weakness, and shall hide
From thee thy graces, that thou mayst abide

Under the fretting fumes of unbelief,
Which never yielded Christian man relief.

Nor help thyself thou mayst against him thus:
O Satan, though my heart indeed be worse

Than 'twas a while ago, yet I perceive
Thou shalt me not of happiness bereave,

Nor yet of holiness; for by the Word
I find that Jesus Christ, our blessed Lord,

Is made sanctification for me
In his own person, where all graces be,

As water in the fountain; and that I,
By means of that, have yet a sanctity,

Both personal and perfect every way;
And that is Christ himself, as Paul doth say.

Now, though my crazy pitcher oft doth leak,
By means of which my graces are so weak,

And so much spent, that one I cannot find
Able to stay or help my feeble mind;

Yet then I look to Jesus, and see all
In him that wanting is in me, and shall

Again take courage, and believe he will
Present me upright in his person, till

He humble me for all my foolishness,
And then again fill me with holiness.

Now, if thou lovest inward sanctity,
As all the saints do most unfeignedly,

Then add, to what I have already said,
Faith in the promise; and be not afraid

To urge it often at the throne of grace,
And to expect it in its time and place.

Then he that true is, and that cannot lie,
Will give it unto thee, that thou thereby

Mayst serve with faith, with fear, in truth and love,
That God that did at first thy spirit move

To ask it to his praise, that he might be
Thy God, and that he might delight in thee.

If I should here particulars relate,
Methinks it could not but much animate

Thy heart, though very listless to inquire
How thou mayst that enjoy, which all desire

That love themselves and future happiness;
But O, I cannot fully it express:

The promise is so open and so free,
In all respects, to those that humble be,

That want they cannot what for them is good;
But there 'tis, and confirmed is with blood,

A certain sign, all those enjoy it may,
That see they want it, and sincerely pray

To God the Father, in that Jesus' name
Who bled on purpose to confirm the same.

poem by John Bunyan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Of Love To God

When I do this begin to apprehend,
My heart, my soul, and mind, begins to bend

To God-ward, and sincerely for to love
His son, his ways, his people, and to move

With brokenness of spirit after him
Who broken was, and killed for my sin.

Now is mine heart grown holy, now it cleaves
To Jesus Christ my Lord, and now it leaves

Those ways that wicked be; it mourns because
It can conform no more unto the laws

Of God, who loved me when I was vile,
And of sweet Jesus, who did reconcile

Me unto justice by his precious blood,
When no way else was left to do me good.

If you would know how this can operate
Thus on the soul, I shall to you relate

A little farther what my soul hath seen
Since I have with the Lord acquainted been.

The word of grace, when it doth rightly seize
The spirit of a man, and so at ease

Doth set the soul, the Spirit of the Lord
Doth then with might accompany the word;

In which it sets forth Christ as crucified,
And by that means the Father pacified

With such a wretch was thou, and by this sight,
Thy guilt is in the first place put to flight,

For thus the Spirit doth expostulate:
Behold how God doth now communicate

(By changing of the person) grace to thee
A sinner, but to Christ great misery,

Though he the just one was, and so could not
Deserve this punishment; behold, then, what

The love of God is! how 'tis manifest,
And where the reason lies that thou art blest.

This doctrine being spoken to the heart,
Which also is made yield to every part

Thereof, it doth the same with sweetness fill,
And so doth sins and wickednesses kill;

For when the love of God is thus reveal'd,
And thy poor drooping spirit thereby seal'd,

And when thy heart, as dry ground, drinks this in
Unto the roots thereof, which nourish sin,

It smites them, as the worm did Jonah's gourd,
And makes them dwindle of their own accord,

And die away; instead of which there springs
Up life and love, and other holy things.

Besides, the Holy Spirit now is come,
And takes possession of thee as its home;

By which a war maintained always is
Against the old man and the deeds of his.

When God at first upon mount Sinai spake,
He made his very servant Moses quake;

But when he heard the law the second time,
His heart was comforted, his face did shine.

What was the reason of this difference,
Seeing no change was in the ordinance,

Although a change was in the manner, when
The second time he gave it unto men?

At first 'twas given in severity,
In thunder, blackness, darkness, tempest high,

In fiery flames it was delivered.
This struck both Moses and the host as dead;

But Moses, when he went into the mount
The second time, upon the same account

No fear, nor dread, nor shaking of his mind,
Do we in all the holy Scripture find;

But rather in his spirit he had rest,
And look'd upon himself as greatly blest.

He was put in the rock, he heard the name,
Which on the mount the Lord did thus proclaim:

The Lord, merciful, gracious, and more,
Long-suffering, and keeping up in store

Mercy for thousands, pardoning these things,
Iniquity, transgressions, and sins,

And holding guilty none but such as still
Refuse forgiveness, of rebellious will.

This proclamation better pleased him
Than all the thunder and the light'ning.

Which shook the mount, this rid him of his fear,
This made him bend, make haste, and worship there.

Jehoshaphat, when he was sore opprest
By Amnon and by Moab, and the rest

Of them that sought his life, no rest he found,
Until a word of faith became a ground

To stay himself upon; O, then they fell,
His very song became their passing-bell.

Then holiness of heart a consequence
Of faith in Christ is, for it flows from thence;

The love of Christ in truth constraineth us,
Of love sincerely to make judgment thus:

He for us died that for ever we
Might die to sin, and Christ his servants be.

O! nothing's like to the remembrance
Of what it is to have deliverance

From death and hell, which is of due our right,
Nothing, I say, like this to work delight

In holy things; this like live honey runs,
And needs no pressing out of honey-combs.

poem by John Bunyan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Doctor B. Of Tears

Who would have thought, there could have bin
Such joy in tears, wept for our sin?
Mine eyes have seen, my heart hath prov'd
The most and best of earthly joyes:
The sweets of love, and being lov'd,
Masks, Feasts, and Playes, and such like toyes.
Yet, this one tear, which now doth fall,
In true delight exceeds them all.

2. Indeed, mine eyes at first let in
Those guests that did these woes begin,
Therefore mine eyes in tears, and grief,
Are justly drown'd: but, that those tears
Should comfort bring, is past belief:
Oh God! in this thy grace appears,
Thou that mak'st light from darkness spring,
Mak'st joyes to weep, and sorrows sing.

3. Oh where am I? what may I think?
Help, help, alas my heart doth sink;
Thus lost in seas of woe,
Thus laden with my sin,
Waves of despair dash in,
And threat my overthrow.
What heart opprest with such a weight
Can chuse but break, and perish quite?

4. Yet, as at Sea in storms, men use
The Ship to save, the goods to lose;
So, in this fearfull storm,
This danger to prevent,
Before all hope be spent,
I'le chuse the lesser harm:
My tears to seas will convert,
And drown my eyes to save my heart.

5. Oh God my God, what shall I give
To thee in thanks? I am and live
In thee, and thou didst safe preserve
My health, my fame, my goods, my rent,
Thou mak'st me eat while others sterve;
Such unto me thy Blessings are,
As if I were thy only care.

6. But, oh my God! thou art more kind,
When I look inward on my mind:
Thou fill'st my heart with humble joy,
With patience, meekness, fervant love,
(Which doth all other loves destroy)
With faith (which nothing can remove)
And hope assur'd of heavens bliss;
This is my state: thy grace is this.

poem by Henry Wotton
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An Introduction To The Ensuing Discourse.

These lines I at this time present
To all that will them heed,
Wherein I show to what intent
God saith, Convert[2] with speed.

For these four things come on apace,
Which we should know full well,
Both death and judgment, and, in place
Next to them, heaven and hell.

For doubtless man was never born
For this life and no more:
No, in the resurrection morn
They must have weal or woe.

Can any think that God should take
That pains, to form a man
So like himself, only to make
Him here a moment stand?

Or that he should make such ado,
By justice, and by grace;
By prophets and apostles too,
That men might see his face?

Or that the promise he hath made,
Also the threatenings great,
Should in a moment end and fade?
O! no, this is a cheat.

Besides, who is so mad, or worse,
To think that Christ should come
From glory, to be made a curse,
And that in sinners' room,

If nothing should by us be had
When we are gone from hence,
But vanities, while here? O mad
And foolish confidence.

Again, shall God, who is the truth,
Say there is heaven and hell
And shall men play that trick of youth
To say, But who can tell?

Shall he that keeps his promise sure
In things both low and small,
Yet break it like a man impure,
In matters great'st of all?

O, let all tremble at that thought,
That puts on God the lie,
That saith men shall turn unto nought
When they be sick and die.

Alas, death is but as the door
Through which all men do pass,
To that which they for evermore
Shall have by wrath or grace.

Let all therefore that read my lines,
Apply them to the heart:
Yea, let them read, and turn betimes,
And get the better part.

Mind therefore what I treat on here,
Yea, mind and weigh it well;
'Tis death and judgment, and a clear
Discourse of heaven and hell.

poem by John Bunyan
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Heaven And Hell

What if I told you
There was no place you could run to
To hide from your fears
Where good is bad and bad is good
And all the cries your cry
No one can hear
Is it heaven - is it hell
Life is what you make it only time will tell
Is it heaven - is it hell
Life is what you make it only time...
Need someone to talk to
But theres no one you can turn to
You cry out in despair
Gotta feeling you should be kneeling on your knees
You scream to the air
Lord the pain it takes its toll
The devil wants to take my soul
Tell me what should I do
The answer that you need to find
Is in the seeds youve sown
Its all up to you
Its your life - its up to you
Now its time to choose
Death and destruction is all in your mind
Could hell be the place for the peace you must find
Its your life - its up to you
Now its time to choose
Is God your savior - the key to the light
Or is it hell burning the flames so bright
Its your life - its up to you
Now its time to choose
Times running out - not a second to pause
Be strong in your choice
The decision is yours
Its your life - its up to you
Now its time to choose

song performed by by 24-7 Spyz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ale

Now do I hear thee weep and groan,
Who hath a comrade sunk at sea?
Then quaff thee of my good old ale,
And it will raise him up for thee;
Thoul't think as little of him then
As when he moved with living men.

If thou hast hopes to move the world,
And every effort it doth fail,
Then to thy side call Jack and Jim,
And bid them drink with thee good ale;
So may the world, that would not hear,
Perish in hell with all your care.

One quart of good ale, and I
Feel then what life immortal is:
The brain is empty of all thought,
The heart is brimming o'er with bliss;
Time's first child, Life, doth live; but Death,
The second, hath not yet his breath.

Give me a quart of good old ale,
Am I a homeless man on earth?
Nay, I want not your roof and quilt,
I'll lie warm at the moon's cold hearth;
No grumbling ghost to grudge my bed,
His grave, ha! ha! holds up my head.

poem by William Henry Davies
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How Love Looked For Hell.

'To heal his heart of long-time pain
One day Prince Love for to travel was fain
With Ministers Mind and Sense.
`Now what to thee most strange may be?'
Quoth Mind and Sense. `All things above,
One curious thing I first would see --
Hell,' quoth Love.

'Then Mind rode in and Sense rode out:
They searched the ways of man about.
First frightfully groaneth Sense.
`'Tis here, 'tis here,' and spurreth in fear
To the top of the hill that hangeth above
And plucketh the Prince: `Come, come, 'tis here --'
`Where?' quoth Love --

'`Not far, not far,' said shivering Sense
As they rode on. `A short way hence,
-- But seventy paces hence:
Look, King, dost see where suddenly
This road doth dip from the height above?
Cold blew a mouldy wind by me'
(`Cold?' quoth Love)

'`As I rode down, and the River was black,
And yon-side, lo! an endless wrack
And rabble of souls,' sighed Sense,
`Their eyes upturned and begged and burned
In brimstone lakes, and a Hand above
Beat back the hands that upward yearned --'
`Nay!' quoth Love --

'`Yea, yea, sweet Prince; thyself shalt see,
Wilt thou but down this slope with me;
'Tis palpable,' whispered Sense.
-- At the foot of the hill a living rill
Shone, and the lilies shone white above;
`But now 'twas black, 'twas a river, this rill,'
(`Black?' quoth Love)

'`Ay, black, but lo! the lilies grow,
And yon-side where was woe, was woe,
-- Where the rabble of souls,' cried Sense,
`Did shrivel and turn and beg and burn,
Thrust back in the brimstone from above --
Is banked of violet, rose, and fern:'
`How?' quoth Love:

'`For lakes of pain, yon pleasant plain
Of woods and grass and yellow grain
Doth ravish the soul and sense:
And never a sigh beneath the sky,
And folk that smile and gaze above --'
`But saw'st thou here, with thine own eye,
Hell?' quoth Love.

'`I saw true hell with mine own eye,
True hell, or light hath told a lie,
True, verily,' quoth stout Sense.
Then Love rode round and searched the ground,
The caves below, the hills above;
`But I cannot find where thou hast found
Hell,' quoth Love.

'There, while they stood in a green wood
And marvelled still on Ill and Good,
Came suddenly Minister Mind.
`In the heart of sin doth hell begin:
'Tis not below, 'tis not above,
It lieth within, it lieth within:'
(`Where?' quoth Love)

'`I saw a man sit by a corse;
`Hell's in the murderer's breast: remorse!'
Thus clamored his mind to his mind:
Not fleshly dole is the sinner's goal,
Hell's not below, nor yet above,
'Tis fixed in the ever-damned soul --'
`Fixed?' quoth Love --

'`Fixed: follow me, would'st thou but see:
He weepeth under yon willow tree,
Fast chained to his corse,' quoth Mind.
Full soon they passed, for they rode fast,
Where the piteous willow bent above.
`Now shall I see at last, at last,
Hell,' quoth Love.

'There when they came Mind suffered shame:
`These be the same and not the same,'
A-wondering whispered Mind.
Lo, face by face two spirits pace
Where the blissful willow waves above:
One saith: `Do me a friendly grace --'
(`Grace!' quoth Love)

'`Read me two Dreams that linger long,
Dim as returns of old-time song
That flicker about the mind.
I dreamed (how deep in mortal sleep!)
I struck thee dead, then stood above,
With tears that none but dreamers weep;'
`Dreams,' quoth Love;

'`In dreams, again, I plucked a flower
That clung with pain and stung with power,
Yea, nettled me, body and mind.'
`'Twas the nettle of sin, 'twas medicine;
No need nor seed of it here Above;
In dreams of hate true loves begin.'
`True,' quoth Love.

'`Now strange,' quoth Sense, and `Strange,' quoth Mind,
`We saw it, and yet 'tis hard to find,
-- But we saw it,' quoth Sense and Mind.
Stretched on the ground, beautiful-crowned
Of the piteous willow that wreathed above,
`But I cannot find where ye have found
Hell,' quoth Love.'

poem by Sidney Lanier
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Of Judgement

As 'tis appointed men should die,
So judgment is the next
That meets them most assuredly;
For so saith holy text.

Wherefore of judgment I shall now
Inform you what I may,
That you may see what 'tis, and how
'Twill be with men that day.

This world it hath a time to stand,
Which time when ended, then
Will issue judgment out of hand
Upon all sorts of men.

The Judge we find, in God's record,
The Son of man, for he
By God's appointment is made Lord
And Judge of all that be.

Wherefore this Son of man shall come
At last to count with all,
And unto them shall give just doom,
Whether they stand or fall.

Behold ye now the majesty
And state that shall attend
This Lord, this Judge, and Justice high
When he doth now descend.

He comes with head as white as snow,
With eyes like flames of fire;
In justice clad from top to toe,
Most glorious in attire.

His face is filled with gravity;
His tongue is like a sword;
His presence awes both stout and high,
The world shakes at his word.

He comes in flaming fire, and
With angels clear and bright,
Each with a trumpet in his hand,
Clothed in shining white.

The trump of God sounds in the air,
The dead do hear his voice;
The living too run here and there,
Who made not him their choice.

Thus to his place he doth repair,
Appointed for his throne,
Where he will sit to judge, and where
He'll count with every one.

Angels attending on his hand
By thousands on a row;
Yea, thousand thousands by him stand,
And at his beck do go.

Thus being set, the books do ope
In which all crimes are writ.
All virtues, too, of faith and hope,
Of love; and every whit

Of all that man hath done or said,
Or did intend to do;
Whether they sinn'd, or were afraid
Evil to come into.

Before this bar each sinner now
In person must appear;
Under his judgment there to bow
With trembling and with fear:

Within whose breast a witness then
Will certainly arise,
That to each charge will say Amen,
While they seek and devise

To shun the sentence which the Lord
Against them then will read,
Out of the books of God's record,
With majesty and dread.

But every heart shall opened be
Before this judge most high;
Yea, every thought to judgment he
Will bring assuredly.

And every word and action, too,
He there will manifest;
Yea, all that ever thou didst do,
Or keep within thy breast,

Shall then be seen and laid before
The world, that then will stand
To see thy judge open ev'ry sore,
And all thy evils scann'd.

Weighing each sin and wickedness
With so much equity,
Proportioning of thy distress
And woful misery.

With so much justice, doing right,
That thou thyself shalt say,
My sins have brought me to this plight,
I threw myself away.

Into that gulph my sins have brought
Me justly to possess,
For which I blame not Christ, I wrought
It out by wickedness.

But O! how willingly would these
That thus in judgment be,
If that they might have help or ease,
Unto the mountains flee.

They would rejoice if that they might
But underneath them creep,
To hide them from revenging right,
For fear of which they weep.

But all in vain, the mountains then
Will all be fled and gone;
No shelter will be found for men
That now are left alone.

For succour they did not regard
When Christ by grace did call
To them, therefore they are not heard,
No mountains on them fall.

Before this Judge no one shall shroud
Himself, under pretence
Of knowledge, which hath made him proud,
Nor seeming penitence.

No high profession here can stand,
Unless sincerity
Hath been therewith commixed, and
Brought forth simplicity.[7]

No mask nor vizor here can hide
The heart that rotten is;
All cloaks now must be laid aside,
No sinner must have bliss.

Though most approve of thee, and count
Thee upright in thy heart;
Yea, though preferred and made surmount
Most men to act thy part,

In treading where the godly trod,
As to an outward show;
Yet this hold still, the grace of God
Takes hold on but a few,

So as to make them truly such
As then shall stand before
This Judge with gladness; this is much
Yet true for evermore.

The tree of life this paradise
Doth always beautify,
'Cause of our health it is the rise
And perpetuity.

Here stands the golden throne of grace
From out of which do run
Those crystal streams that make this place
Far brighter than the sun.

Here stands mount Zion with her king.
Jerusalem above,
That holy and delightful thing,
So beautified with love.

That, as a mother succours those
Which of her body be,
So she far more, all such as close
In with her Lord; and she

Her grace, her everlasting doors
Will open wide unto
Them all, with welcome, welcome, poor,
Rich, bond, free, high and low,

Unto the kingdom which our Lord
Appointed hath for all
That hath his name and word ador'd;
Because he did them call

Unto that work, which also they
Sincerely did fulfil,
Not shunning always to obey
His gracious holy will.

Besides, this much doth beautify
This goodly paradise,
That from all quarters, constantly,
Whole thousands as the price

Of precious blood, do here arrive;
As safe escaping all,
Sin, hell, and satan did contrive
To bring them into thrall.

Each telling his deliverance
I' th' open face of heaven;
Still calling to remembrance
How fiercely they were driven

By deadly foe, who did pursue
As swift as eagles fly;
Which if thou have not, down thou must
With those that then shall die
The second death, and be accurs'd
Of God. For certainly,

The truth of grace shall only here
Without a blush be bold
To stand, whilst others quake and fear,
And dare not once behold.

That heart that here was right for God
Shall there be comforted;
But those that evil ways have trod,
Shall then hang down the head.

As sore confounded with the guilt
That now upon them lies,
Because they did delight in filth
And beastly vanities.

Or else because they did deceive
With hypocritical
Disguises, their own souls, and leave
Or shun that best of all

Approved word of righteousness,
They were invited to
Embrace, therefore they no access
Now to him have, but woe.

For every one must now receive
According to their ways;
They that unto the Lord did cleave,
The everlasting joys.

Those that did die in wickedness,
To execution sent,
There still to grapple with distress,
Which nothing can prevent.

Of which two states I next shall write,
Wherefore I pray give ear,
And to them bend with all our might
Your heart with filial fear.

poem by John Bunyan
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Tenth Sunday After Trinity

Why doth my Saviour weep
At sight of Sion's bowers?
Shows it not fair from yonder steep,
Her gorgeous crown of towers?
Mark well His holy pains:
'Tis not in pride or scorn,
That Israel's King with sorrow stains
His own triumphal morn.

It is not that His soul
Is wandering sadly on,
In thought how soon at death's dark goal
Their course will all be run,
Who now are shouting round
Hosanna to their chief;
No thought like this in Him is found,
This were a Conquerer's grief.

Or doth He feel the Cross
Already in His heart,
The pain, the shame, the scorn, the loss?
Feel e'en His God depart?
No: though He knew full well
The grief that then shall be -
The grief that angels cannot tell -
Our God in agony.

It is not thus He mourns;
Such might be martyr's tears,
When his last lingering look he turns
On human hopes and fears;
But hero ne'er or saint
The secret load might know,
With which His spirit waxeth faint;
His is a Saviour's woe.

"If thou had'st known, e'en thou,
At least in this thy day,
The message of thy peace! but now
'Tis passed for aye away:
Now foes shall trench thee round,
And lay thee even with earth,
And dash thy children to the ground,
Thy glory and thy mirth."

And doth the Saviour weep
Over His people's sin,
Because we will not let Him keep
The souls He died to win?
Ye hearts, that love the Lord,
If at this, sight ye burn,
See that in thought, in deed, in word,
Ye hate what made Him mourn.

poem by John Keble
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Holy Sonnet I: Thou Hast Made Me

Thou hast made me, and shall thy work decay?
Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste;
I run to death, and death meets me as fast,
And all my pleasures are like yesterday.
I dare not move my dim eyes any way,
Despair behind, and death before doth cast
Such terror, and my feeble flesh doth waste
By sin in it, which it towards hell doth weigh.
Only thou art above, and when towards thee
By thy leave I can look, I rise again;
But our old subtle foe so tempteth me
That not one hour myself I can sustain.
Thy grace may wing me to prevent his art,
And thou like adamant draw mine iron heart.

poem by John Donne
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Holy Sonnet ?

Thou hast made me, and shall thy work decay?
Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste,
I run to death, and death meets me as fast,
And all my pleasures are like yesterday;
I dare not move my dim eyes any way,
Despair behind, and death before doth cast
Such terror, and my feebled flesh doth waste
By sin in it, which it t'wards hell doth weigh.
Only thou art above, and when towards thee
By thy leave I can look, I rise again;
But our old subtle foe so tempteth me,
That not one hour I can myself sustain;
Thy grace may wing me to prevent his art,
And thou like adamant draw mine iron heart.

poem by John Donne
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Holy Sonnet 1

Thou hast made me, and shall Thy work decay?
Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste;
I run to death, and Death meets me as fast,
And all my pleasures are like yesterday.
I dare not move my dim eyes any way;
Despair behind, and Death before doth cast
Such terror, and my feeble flesh doth waste
By sin in it, which it towards hell doth weigh.
Only Thou art above, and when towards Thee
By Thy leave I can look, I rise again;
But our old subtle foe so tempteth me,
That not one hour myself I can sustain.
Thy grace may wing me to prevent his art
And thou like adamant draw mine iron heart.

poem by John Donne from Holy Sonnets
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Of Heaven

Heaven is a place, also a state,
It doth all things excel,
No man can fully it relate,
Nor of its glory tell.

God made it for his residence,
To sit on as a throne,
Which shows to us the excellence
Whereby it may be known.

Doubtless the fabric that was built
For this so great a king,
Must needs surprise thee, if thou wilt
But duly mind the thing.

If all that build do build to suit
The glory of their state,
What orator, though most acute,
Can fully heaven relate?

If palaces that princes build,
Which yet are made of clay,
Do so amaze when much beheld,
Of heaven what shall we say?

It is the high and holy place;
No moth can there annoy,
Nor make to fade that goodly grace
That saints shall there enjoy.

Mansions for glory and for rest
Do there prepared stand;
Buildings eternal for the blest
Are there provided, and

The glory and the comeliness
By deepest thought none may
With heart or mouth fully express,
Nor can before that day.

These heav'ns we see, be as a scroll,
Or garment folded up,
Before they do together roll,
And we call'd in to sup.

There with the king, the bridegroom, and
By him are led into
His palace chambers, there to stand
With his prospect to our view.

And taste and smell, and be inflam'd,
And ravished to see
The buildings he hath for us fram'd,
How full of heaven they be.

Its state also is marvellous,
For beauty to behold;
All goodness there is plenteous,
And better far than gold.

Adorn'd with grace and righteousness,
While fragrant scents of love
O'erflow with everlasting bliss,
All that do dwell above.

The heavenly majesty, whose face
Doth far exceed the sun,
Will there cast forth its rays of grace
After this world is done.

Which rays and beams will so possess
All things that there shall dwell,
With so much glory, light, and bliss,
That none can think or tell.

That wisdom which doth order all
Shall there be fully shown;
That strength that bears the world there shall
By every one be known.

That holiness and sanctity
Which doth all thought surpass,
Shall there in present purity
Outshine the crystal glass.

The beauty and the comeliness
Of this Almighty shall
Make amiable with lasting bliss
Those he thereto shall call.

The presence of this God will be
Eternal life in all,
And health and gladness, while we see
Thy face, O immortal!

Here will the Lord make clear and plain
How sweetly did agree
His attributes, when Christ was slain
Our Saviour to be.

How wisdom did find out the way,
How strength did make him stand,
How holiness did bear the sway,
And answer just demand.

How all these attributes did bend
Themselves to work our life,
Through the Christ whom God did send
To save us by his might.

All this will sparkle in our eye
Within the holy place,
And greatly raise our melody,
And flow our hearts with grace.

The largest thought that can arise
Within the widest heart
Shall then be filled with surprize,
And pleas'd in every part.

All mysteries shall here be seen,
And every knot, unty'd;
Electing love, that hid hath been,
Shall shine on every side.

The God of glory here will be
The life of every one;
Whose goodly attributes shall we
Possess them as our own.

By wisdom we all things shall know,
By light all things shall see,
By strength, too, all things we shall do,
When we in glory be.

The Holy Lamb of God, also,
Who for our sakes did die,
The holy ones of God shall know,
And that most perfectly.

Those small and short discoveries
That we have of him here,
Will there be seen with open eyes,
In visions full and clear.

Those many thousand acts of grace
That here we feel and find,
Shall there be real with open face
Upon his heart most kind.

There he will show us how he was
Our prophet, priest, and king;
And how he did maintain our cause,
And us to glory bring.

There we shall see how he was touch'd
With all our grief and pain
(As in his word he hath avouch'd),
When we with him shall reign;

He'll show us, also, how he did
Maintain our faith and love,
And why his face sometimes he hid
From us, who are his dove;

These tempting times that here we have,
We there shall see were good;
Also that hidden strength he gave,
The purchase of his blood.

That he should stand for us before
His Father, thus we read.
But then shall see, and shall adore
Him for his gracious deed.

Though we are vile, he without shame
Before the angels all
Lays out his strength, his worth, and name,
For us, who are in thrall.

This is he who was mock'd and beat,
Spit on, and crown'd with thorns;
Who for us had a bloody sweat,
Whose heart was broke with scorns.

'Tis he who stands so much our friend,
As shortly we shall see,
With open face, world without end,
And in his presence be.

That head that once was crown'd with thorns,
Shall now with glory shine;
That heart that broken was with scorns,
Shall flow with life divine;

That man that here met with disgrace,
We there shall see so bright;
That angels can't behold his face
For its exceeding light.

What gladness will possess our heart
When we shall see these things!
What light and life, in every part,
Will rise like lasting springs!

O blessed face and holy grace,
When shall we see this day?
Lord, fetch us to this goodly place
We humbly do thee pray.

Next to this Lamb we shall behold
All saints, both more and less,
With whit'ned robes in glory roll'd,
'Cause him they did confess.

Each walking in his righteousness
With shining crowns of gold,
Triumphing still in heav'nly bliss,
Amazing to behold.

Each person for his majesty
Doth represent a king;
Yea, angel-like for dignity,
And seraphims that sing.

Each motion of their mind, and so
Each twinkling of their eye;
Each word they speak, and step they go,
It is in purity.

Immortal are they every one,
Wrapt up in health and light,
Mortality from them is gone,
Weakness is turn'd to might.

The stars are not so clear as they,
They equalize the sun;
Their glory shines to perfect day,
Which day will ne'er be done.

No sorrow can them now annoy,
Nor weakness, grief or pain;
No faintness can abate their joy,
They now in life do reign.

They shall not there, as here, be vex'd
With Satan, men, or sin;
Nor with their wicked hearts perplex'd,
The heavens have cop'd[8] them in.

Thus, as they shine in their estate,
So, too, in their degree;
Which is most goodly to relate,
And ravishing to see.

The majesty whom they adore,
Doth them in wisdom place
Upon the thrones, and that before
The angels, to their grace.

The saints of the Old Testament,
Full right to their degree;
Likewise the New, in excellent
Magnificency be.

Each one his badge of glory wears,
According to his place;
According as was his affairs
Here, in the time of grace.

Some on the right hand of the Lamb,
Likewise some on the left,
With robes and golden chains do stand
Most grave, most sage, and deft.[9]

The martyr here is known from him
Who peaceably did die,
Both by the place he sitteth in,
And by his dignity.

Each father, saint, and prophet shall,
According to his worth,
Enjoy the honour of his call,
And plainly hold it forth.

Those bodies which sometimes were torn,
And bones that broken were
For God's word; he doth now adorn
With health and glory fair.

Thus, when in heav'nly harmony
These blessed saints appear,
Adorn'd with grace and majesty,
What gladness will be there!

The light, and grace, and countenance,
The least of these shall have,
Will so with terror them advance,
And make their face so grave,

That at them all the world will shake,
When they lift up their head;
Princes and kings will at them quake,
And fall before them dead.

This shall we see, thus shall we be,
O would the day were come,
Lord Jesus take us up to thee,
To this desired home.

Angels also we shall behold,
When we on high ascend,
Each shining like to men of gold,
And on the Lord attend.

These goodly creatures, full of grace,
Shall stand about the throne,
Each one with lightning in his face,
And shall to us be known.

These cherubims with one accord
Shall cry continually,
Ah, holy, holy, holy, Lord,
And heavenly majesty.

These will us in their arms embrace,
And welcome us to rest,
And joy to see us clad with grace,
And of the heavens possess'd.

This we shall hear, this we shall see,
While raptures take us up,
When we with blessed Jesus be,
And at his table sup.

Oh shining angels! what, must we
With you lift up our voice?
We must; and with you ever be,
And with you must rejoice.

Our friends that lived godly here,
Shall there be found again;
The wife, the child, and father dear,
With others of our train.

Each one down to the foot in white,
Fill'd to the brim with grace,
Walking among the saints in light,
With glad and joyful face.

Those God did use us to convert,
We there with joy shall meet,
And jointly shall, with all our heart,
In life each other greet.

A crown to them we then shall be,
A glory and a joy;
And that before the Lord, when he
The world comes to destroy.

This is the place, this is the state,
Of all that fear the Lord;
Which men nor angels may relate
With tongue, or pen, or word.

No night is here, for to eclipse
Its spangling rays so bright;
Nor doubt, nor fear to shut the lips,
Of those within this light.

The strings of music here are tun'd
For heavenly harmony,
And every spirit here perfum'd
With perfect sanctity.

Here runs the crystal streams of life,
Quite through all our veins.
And here by love we do unite
With glory's golden chains.

Now that which sweet'neth all will be
The lasting of this state;
This heightens all we hear or see
To a transcendant rate.

For should the saints enjoy all this
But for a certain time,
O, how would they their mark then miss,
And at this thing repine?

Yea, 'tis not possible that they
Who then shall dwell on high,
Should be content, unless they may
Dwell there eternally.

A thought of parting with this place
Would bitter all their sweet,
And darkness put upon the face
Of all they there do meet.

But far from this the saints shall be,
Their portion is the Lord,
Whose face for ever they shall see,
As saith the holy word.

And that with everlasting peace,
Joy, and felicity,
From this time forth they shall increase
Unto eternity.

poem by John Bunyan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Complaint of Lisa

There is no woman living who draws breath
So sad as I, though all things sadden her.
There is not one upon life's weariest way
Who is weary as I am weary of all but death.
Toward whom I look as looks the sunflower
All day with all his whole soul toward the sun;
While in the sun's sight I make moan all day,
And all night on my sleepless maiden bed.
Weep and call out on death, O Love, and thee,
That thou or he would take me to the dead.
And know not what thing evil I have done
That life should lay such heavy hand on me.

Alas! Love, what is this thou wouldst with me?
What honor shalt thou have to quench my breath,
Or what shall my heart broken profit thee?
O Love, O great god Love, what have I done,
That thou shouldst hunger so after my death?
My heart is harmless as my life's first day:
Seek out some false fair woman, and plague her
Till her tears even as my tears fill her bed:
I am the least flower in thy flowery way,
But till my time be come that I be dead,
Let me live out my flower-time in the sun,
Though my leaves shut before the sunflower.

O Love, Love, Love, the kingly sunflower!
Shall he the sun hath looked on look on me,
That live down here in shade, out of the sun,
Here living in the sorrow and shadow of death?
Shall he that feeds his heart full of the day
Care to give mine eyes light, or my lips breath?
Because she loves him, shall my lord love her
Who is as a worm in my lord's kingly way?
I shall not see him or know him alive or dead;
But thou, I know thee, O Love, and pray to thee
That in brief while my brief life-days be done,
And the worm quickly make my marriage-bed.

For underground there is no sleepless bed.
But here since I beheld my sunflower
These eyes have slept not, seeing all night and day
His sunlike eyes, and face fronting the sun.
Wherefore, if anywhere be any death,
I fain would find and fold him fast to me,
That I may sleep with the world's eldest dead,
With her that died seven centuries since, and her
That went last night down the night-wandering way.
For this is sleep indeed, when labor is done,
Without love, without dreams, and without breath,
And without thought, O name unnamed! of thee.

Ah! but, forgetting all things, shall I thee?
Wilt thou not be as now about my bed
There underground as here before the sun?
Shall not thy vision vex me alive and dead,
Thy moving vision without form or breath?
I read long since the bitter tale of her
Who read the tale of Launcelot on a day,
And died, and had no quiet after death,
But was moved ever along a weary way,
Lost with her love in the underworld; ah me,
O my king, O my lordly sunflower,
Would God to me, too, such a thing were done!

But if such sweet and bitter things be done,
Then, flying from life, I shall not fly from thee.
For in that living world without a sun
Thy vision will lay hold upon me dead,
And meet and mock me, and mar my peace in death.
Yet if being wroth, God had such pity on her,
Who was a sinner and foolish in her day,
That even in hell they twain should breathe one breath,
Why should he not in some wise pity me?
So if I sleep not in my soft strait bed,
I may look up and see my sunflower
As he the sun, in some divine strange way.

O poor my heart, well knowest thou in what way
This sore sweet evil unto us was done.
For on a holy and a heavy day
I was arisen out of my still small bed
To see the knights tilt, and one said to me
"The king;" and seeing him, somewhat stopped my breath;
And if the girl spake more, I heard her not,
For only I saw what I shall see when dead,
A kingly flower of knights, a sunflower,
That shone against the sunlight like the sun,
And like a fire, O heart, consuming thee,
The fire of love that lights the pyre of death.

Howbeit I shall not die an evil death
Who have loved in such a sad and sinless way,
That this my love, lord, was no shame to thee.
So when mine eyes are shut against the sun,
O my soul's sun, O the world's sunflower,
Thou nor no man will quite despise me dead.
And dying I pray with all my low last breath
That thy whole life may be as was that day,
That feast-day that made trothplight death and me,
Giving the world light of thy great deeds done;
And that fair face brightening thy bridal bed,
That God be good as God hath been to her.

That all things goodly and glad remain with her,
All things that make glad life and goodly death;
That as a bee sucks from a sunflower
Honey, when summer draws delighted breath,
Her soul may drink of thy soul in like way,
And love make life a fruitful marriage-bed
Where day may bring forth fruits of joy to day
And night to night till days and nights be dead.
And as she gives light of her love to thee,
Give thou to her the old glory of days long done;
And either give some heat of light to me,
To warm me where I sleep without the sun.

O sunflower make drunken with the sun,
O knight whose lady's heart draws thine to her,
Great king, glad lover, I have a word to thee.
There is a weed lives out of the sun's way,
Hid from the heat deep in the meadow's bed,
That swoons and whitens at the wind's least breath,
A flower star-shaped, that all a summer day
Will gaze her soul out on the sunflower
For very love till twilight finds her dead.
But the great sunflower heeds not her poor death,
Knows not when all her loving life is done;
And so much knows my lord the king of me.

Ay, all day long he has no eye for me;
With golden eye following the golden sun
From rose-colored to purple-pillowed bed,
From birthplace to the flame-lit place of death,
From eastern end to western of his way,
So mine eye follows thee, my sunflower,
So the white star-flower turns and yearns to thee,
The sick weak weed, not well alive or dead,
Trod under foot if any pass by her,
Pale, without color of summer or summer breath
In the shrunk shuddering petals, that have done
No work but love, and die before the day.

But thou, to-day, to-morrow, and every day,
Be glad and great, O love whose love slays me.
Thy fervent flower made fruitful from the sun
Shall drop its golden seed in the world's way,
That all men thereof nourished shall praise thee
For grain and flower and fruit of works well done;
Till thy shed seed, O shining sunflower,
Bring forth such growth of the world's garden-bed
As like the sun shall outlive age and death.
And yet I would thine heart had heed of her
Who loves thee alive; but not till she be dead.
Come, Love, then, quickly, and take her utmost breath.

Song, speak for me who am dumb as are the dead;
From my sad bed of tears I send forth thee,
To fly all day from sun's birth to sun's death
Down the sun's way after the flying sun,
For love of her that gave thee wings and breath
Ere day be done, to seek the sunflower.

poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Alas! So All Things Now Do Hold Their Peace

Alas! so all things now do hold their peace,
Heaven and earth disturbed in nothing.
The beasts, the air, the birds their song do cease,
The night{:e}s chare the stars about doth bring.
Calm is the sea, the waves work less and less:
So am not I, whom love, alas, doth wring,
Bringing before my face the great increase
Of my desires, whereat I weep and sing
In joy and woe, as in a doubtful ease.
For my sweet thoughts sometime do pleasure bring,
But by and by the cause of my disease
Gives me a pang that inwardly doth sting,
When that I think what grief it is again
To live and lack the thing should rid my pain.

poem by Henry Howard
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Upon The Image Of Death

Before my face the picture hangs
That daily should put me in mind
Of those cold names and bitter pangs
That shortly I am like to find;
But yet, alas, full little I
Do think hereon that I must die.

I often look upon a face
Most ugly, grisly, bare, and thin;
I often view the hollow place
Where eyes and nose had sometimes been;
I see the bones across that lie,
Yet little think that I must die.

I read the label underneath,
That telleth me whereto I must;
I see the sentence eke that saith
Remember, man, that thou art dust!
But yet, alas, but seldom I
Do think indeed that I must die.

Continually at my bed's head
A hearse doth hang, which doth me tell
That I ere morning may be dead,
Though now I feel myself full well ;
But yet, alas, for all this, I
Have little mind that I must die.

The gown which I do use to wear,
The knife wherewith I cut my meat,
And eke that old and ancient chair
Which is my only usual seat,-
All these do tell me I must die,
And yet my life amend not I.

My ancestors are turned to clay,
And many of my mates are gone;
My youngers daily drop away,
And can I think to 'scape alone?
No, no, I know that I must die,
And yet my life amend not I.

Not Solomon for all his wit,
Nor Samson, though he were so strong,
No king nor person ever yet
Could 'scape but death laid him along;
Wherefore I know that I must die,
And yet my life amend not I.

Though all the East did quake to hear
Of Alexander's dreadful name,
And all the West did likewise fear
To hear of Julius Caesar's fame,
Yet both by death in dust now lie;
Who then can 'scape but he must die?

If none can 'scape death's dreadful dart,
If rich and poor his beck obey,
If strong, if wise, if all do smart,
Then I to 'scape shall have no way.
Oh, grant me grace, O God, that I
My life may mend, sith I must die.

poem by Robert Southwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Postscript unto the Reader

And now good Reader, I return again
To talk with thee, who hast been at the pain
To read throughout, and heed what went before;
And unto thee I'le speak a little more.
Give ear, I pray thee, unto what I say,
That God may hear thy voice another day.
Thou hast a Soul, my friend, and so have I,
To save or lose; a Soul that cannot die,
A soul of greater price than God and Gems;
A Soul more worth than Crowns and Diadems;
A Soul at first created like its Maker,
And of Gods Image made to be partaker:
Upon the wings of Noblest faculties,
Taught for to soar above the Starry Skies,
And not to rest, until it understood
It self possessed of the chiefest good.
And since the Fall, thy Soul retaineth still
Those Faculties of Reason and of Will,
But Oh, how much deprav'd, and out of frame,
As if they were some others, not the same.
Thine Understanding dismally benighted,
And Reason'd eye in Sp'ritual things dim-sighted,
Or else stark blind: Thy Will inclin'd to evil,
And nothing else, a Slave unto the Devil;
That loves to live, and liveth to transgress,
But shuns the way of God and Holiness.
All thin Affections are disordered;
And thou by head-strong Passions are misled.
What need I tell thee of thy crooked way,
And many wicked wand'rings every day?
Or that thine own transgressions are more
In number, than the sands upon the Shore:
Thou art a lump of wickedness become,
And may'st with horrour think upon thy Doom,
Until thy Soul be washed in the flood
Of Christ's most dear, soul-cleansing precious blood.
That, that alone can do away thy sin
Which thou wert born, and hast long lived in.
That, only that, can pacifie Gods wrath,
If apprehended by a lively Faith,
Now whilst the day and means of Grace do last,
Before the opportunity be past.
But if O man, thou liv'st a Christless creature,
And Death surprize thee in a state of nature,
(As who can tell but that may be thy case)
How wilt thou stand before the Judge's face?
When he shall be reveal'd in faming fire,
And come to pay ungodly men their hire:
To execute due vengeance upon those
That knew him not, or that have been his foes?
What wilt thou answer unto his demands,
When he requires a reason at thy hands
Of all the things that thou hast said, or done,
Or left undone, or set thine heart upon?
When he shall thus with thee expostulate,
What cause hadst thou thy Maker for to hate,
To take up Arms against thy Soveraign,
And Enmity against him to maintain?
What injury hath God Almighty done thee?
What good hath he with-held that might have won thee?
What evil, or injustice, hast thou found
In him, that might unto thine hurt redound?
If neither felt, nor feared injury
Hath moved thee to such hostility;
What made thee then the Fountain to forsake,
And unto broken Pits thy self betake?
What reason hadst thou to dishonour God,
Who thee with Mercies never cease to load?
Because the Lord was good, hast thou been evil,
And taken part against him with the Devil?
For all his cost to pay him with despite,
And all his love with hatred to requite?
Is this the fruit of Gods great patience,
To wax more bold in disobedience?
To kick against the bowels of his Love,
Is this aright his Bounty to improve?
Stand still, ye Heav'ns and be astonished,
That God by man should thus be injured!
Give ear, O Earth, and tremble at the sin
Of those that thine Inhabitants have bin.
But thou, vile Wretch, hast added unto all
Thine other faults, and facts so criminal,
The damning sin of wilful unbelief,
Of all Transgressors hadst thou been the chief;
Yet when time was, thou might'st have been set free
From Sin, and Wrath, and punishment by mee.
But thou wouldst not accept of Gospel Grace,
Nor on my terms Eternal Life embrace.
As if that all thy breaches of Gods Law
Were not enough upon thy head to draw
Eternal Wrath: Thou hast despis'd a Saviour,
Rejected me, and trampled on my favour.
How oft have I stood Knocking at thy door,
And been denied entrance evermore?
How often hath my Spirit been withstood,
When as I sent him to have done thee good?
Thou hast no need of any one to plead
Thy Cause, or for thy Soul to intercede:
Plead for thy self, it thou hast ought to say,
And pay thy forfeiture without delay.
Behold thou dost ten thousand Talents owe,
Or pay thy Debt, or else to Prison go.
Think, think, O Man, when Christ shall thus unfold
Thy secret guilt, and make thee to behold
The ugly face of all thy sinful errours,
And fill thy Soul with his amazing terrours,
And let thee see the flaming Pit of Hell
(Where all that have no part in him shall dwell)
When he shall thus expostulate the case,
How canst thou bear to look him in the face?
What wilt thou do without an Advocate?
Or plead, when as thy state is desparate?
Dost think to put him off with fair pretences?
Or wilt thou hide and cover thine offences?
Can any thing from him concealed be,
Who doth the hidden things of darkness see?
Art thou of force his Power to withstand?
Canst thou by might escape out of his hand?
Dost thou intend to run out of his sight,
And save thy self from punishment by flight?
Or wilt thou be eternally accurst,
And bide his Vengeance, let him do his worst?
Oh, who can bear his indignation heat?
Or bide the pains of Hell, which are so great?
If then thou neither canst his Wrath endure,
Nor any Ransom after death procure:
If neither Cryes nor Tears can move his heart
To pardon thee, or mittigate thy smart,
But unto Hell thou must perforce be sent
With dismal horrour and astonishment:
Consider, O my Friends, what cause thou hast
With fear and trembling (while as yet thou may'st)
To lay to heart thy sin and misery,
And to make out after the Remedy.
Consider well the greatness of thy danger,
O Child of wrath, and object of Gods anger,
Thou hangest over the Infernal Pit
By one small thread, and car'st thou not a whit?
There's but a step between thy Soul and Death,
Nothing remains but stopping of thy breath,
(Which may be done to morrow, or before)
And then thou art undone for evermore.
Let this awaken thy Security,
And make thee look about thee speedily,
How canst thou rest an hour or sleep a night,
Or in thy Creature-comforts take delight;
Or with vain Toyes thy self forgetfull make
How near thou art unto the burning Lake?
How canst thou live without tormenting fears?
How canst thou hold from weeping floods of tears,
Yea, tears of blood, I might almost have sed,
If such like tears could from thine eyes be shed?
To gain the world what will it profit thee,
And loose thy Soul and self eternallie?
Eternity on one small point dependeth:
The man is lost that this short life mispendeth,
For as the Tree doth fall, right so it lies;
And man continues in what state he dies.
Who happy die, shall happy rise again;
Who cursed die, shall cursed still remain,
If under Sin, and Wrath, Death leaves thee bound,
At Judgment under Wrath thou shalt be found:
And then wo, wo that ever thou wert born,
O wretched man, of Heav'n and Earth forlorn!
Consider this, all ye that God forget,
Who all his threatenings at nought do set,
Lest into pieces he begin to tear
Your Souls, and there be no deliverer.
O you that now sing care and fear away,
Think often of the formidable Day,
Wherein the Heavens with a mighty noise,
And with a hideous, heart-confounding voice,
Shall pass away together, being roll'd
As men are wont their garments for to fold;
When th' Elements with fervent heat shall melt,
And living Creatures in the same shall swelt,
And altogether in those Flames expire,
Which set the Earths Foundations on fire.
Oh, what amazement will your hearts be in,
And how will you to curse your selves begin
For all your damned sloth, and negligence,
And unbelief, and gross Impenitence,
When you shall hear that dreadful Sentence past,
That all the wicked into Hell be cast?
What horrour will your Consciences surprise,
When you shall hear the fruitless doleful cries
Of such as are compelled to depart
Unto the place of everlasting smart?
What, when you see the sparks fly out of Hell,
And view the Dungeon where you are to dwell,
Wherein you must eternally remain
In anguish, and intolerable pain?
What, when your hands and feet are bound together,
And you are cast into the Lake for ever?
Then shall you feel the truth of what you hear,
That hellish pains are more than you can bear,
And that those Torments are an hundred fold
More terrible than ever you were told.
Nor speak I this, good Reader, to torment thee
Before the time, but rather to prevent thee
From running head-long to thine own decay,
In such a perillous and deadly way.
We, who have known and felt Jehovah's terrours,
Perswade men to repent them of their errours,
And turn to God in time, e're his Decree
Bring forth, and then there be no Remedee!
If in the night, when thou art fast asleep,
Some friend of thine, that better watch doth keep,
Should see thy house all on a burning flame,
And thee almost inclosed with the same:
If such a friend should break thy door and wake thee,
Or else by force out of the peril take thee:
What? wouldst thou take his kindness in ill part?
Or frown upon him for his good desert?
Such, O my friend, such is thy present state,
And danger, being unregenerate.
Awake, awake, and then thou shalt perceive
Thy peril greater than thou wilt believe.
Lift up thine eyes, and see Gods wrathful ire,
Preparing unextinguishable fire
For all that live and die impenitent.
Awake, awake, O Sinner, and repent,
And quarrel not, because I thus alarm
Thy Soul, to save it from eternal harm.
Perhaps thou harbourest such thoughts as these:
I hope I may enjoy my carnal ease
A little longer, and my self refresh
With those delights that gratifie the flesh,
And yet repent before it be too late,
And get into the comfortable state;
I hope I have yet many years to spend,
And time enough those matters to attend.
Presumptuous heart! Is God engag'd to give
A longer time to such as love to live
Like Rebels still, who think to stain his Glory
By wickedness, and after to be sory?
Unto thy lust shall he be made a drudge,
Who thee, and all ungodly men, shall judge?
Canst thou account sin sweet, and yet confess,
That first, or last, it ends in bitterness?
Is sin a thing that must procure thee sorrow?
And woulst thou dally with't another morrow?
O foolish man, who lovest to enjoy
That which will thee distress, or else destroy!
What gained Sampson by his Delilah?
What gained David by his Bathsheba?
The one became a Slave, lost both his eyes,
And made them sport that were his Enemies;
The other penneth, as a certain token
Of Gods displeasure, that his bones were broken,
Besides the woes he after met withal,
To chasten him for that his grievious Fall:
His own Son Ammon using crafty wiles,
His Daughter Thamar wickedly defiles;
His second Son more beautiful than good,
His hands embreweth in his Brothers Bolld:
And by and by aspiring to the Crown,
He strives to pull his gentle Father down:
With hellish rage, him fiercely persecuting,
And bruitishly his Concubines polluting.
Read whoso list, and ponder what he reads,
And he shall find small joy in evil deeds.
Moreover this consider, that the longer
Thou liv'st in sin, thy sin will grow the stronger,
And then it will an harder matter prove,
To leave those wicked haunts that thou dost love.
The Black-moor may as eas'ly change his skin,
As old transgressors leave their wonted sin.
And who can tell what may become of thee,
Or where thy Soul in one days time may be?
We see that Death ner old nor young men spares,
But one and other takes at unawares.
For in a moment, whil'st men Peace do cry,
Destruction seizeth on them suddenly.
Thou who this morning art a lively wight,
May'st be a Corps and damned Ghost ere night.
Oh, dream not then, that it will serve the turn,
Upon thy death bed for thy sins to mourn,
But think how many have been snatcht away,
And had no time for mercy once to pray.
It's just with God Repentance to deny
To such as put it off until they dy,
And late Repentance seldom proveth true,
Which if it fail, thou know'st what must ensue;
For after this short life is at an end,
What is amiss thou never canst amend.
Believe, O man, that to procrastinate,
And put it off until it be too late,
As 'tis thy sin, so is it Satans wile,
Whereby he doth great multitudes beguile.
How many thousands hath this strong delusion
Already brought to ruine and confusion,
Whose Souls are now reserv'd in Iron Chains,
Under thick darkness to eternal pains?
They thought of many years, as thou dost now,
But were deceived quite, and so may'st thou.
Oh, then my friend, while not away thy time,
Nor by rebellion aggravate thy Crime.
Oh put not off Repentance till to morrow,
Adventure not without Gods leave to borrow
Another day to spend upon thy lust,
Lest God (that is most holy, wise, and just)
Denounce in wrath, and to thy terrour say:
This night shall Devils fetch thy Soul away.
Now seek the face of God with all thy heart;
Acknowledge unto him how vile thou art;
Tell him thy sins deserve eternal wrath,
And that it is a wonder that he hath
Permitted thee so long to draw thy breath,
Who might have cut thee off by sudden death,
And sent thy Soul into the lowest Pit,
From whence no price should ever ransom it,
And that he may most justly do it still
(Because thou hast deserv'd it) if he will.
Yet also tell him that, if he shall please,
He can forgive thy Sins, and thee release,
And that in Christ his Son he may be just,
And justifie all those what on him trust:
That though thy sins are of a crimson dy,
Yet Christ his Blood can cleanse thee thorowly.
Tell him, that he may make his glorious Name
More wonderful by covering thy shame;
That Mercy may be greatly magnify'd,
And Justice also fully satisfy'd,
If he shall please to own thee in his Son,
Who hath paid dear for Men's Redemption.
Tell him thou hast an unbelieving heart,
Which hindereth thee from coming for a part
In Christ: and that although his terrours aw thee,
Thou canst not come till he be pleas'd to draw thee.
Tell him thou know'st thine heart to be so bad,
And thy condition so exceeding sad,
That though Salvation may be had for nought
Thou canst not come and take, till thou be brought.
Oh beg of him to bow thy stubborn Will
To come to Christ, that he thy lusts may kill.
Look up to Christ for his attractive pow'r,
Which he exerteth in a needful hour;
Who saith, whenas I lifted up shall be,
Then will I draw all sorts of men to me.
O wait upon him with true diligence,
And trembling fear in every Ordinance;
Unto his call earnest attention give,
Whose voice makes deaf men hear, and dead men live.
Thus weep, and mourn, thus hearken, pray and wait,
Till he behold, and pitty thine estate,
Who is more ready to bestow his Grace,
Then thou the same art willing to imbrace;
Yea, he hath Might enough to bring thee home,
Though thou hast neither strength nor will to come.
If he delay to answer thy request,
Know that oft-times he doth it for the best:
Not with intent to drive us from his door,
But for to make us importune him more;
Or else to bring us duly to confess,
And be convinc'd of our unworthiness.
Oh, be not weary then, but persevere
To beg his Grace till he thy suit shall hear:
And leave him not, nor from his foot-stool go,
Till over thee Compassions skirt he throw.
Eternal Life will recompence thy pains,
If found at last, with everlasting gains.
For if the Lord be pleas'd to hear thy cryes,
And to forgive thy great iniquities,
Thou wilt have cause for ever to admire,
And laud his Grace, that granted thy desire.
Then shalt thou find thy labour is not lost:
But that the good obtain'd surmounts the cost.
Nor shalt thou grieve for loss of sinful pleasures,
Exchang'd for heavenly joyes and lasting treasures.
The yoke of Christ, which once thou didst esteem
A tedious yoke, shall then most easie seem.
For why? The love of Christ shall thee constrain
To take delight in that which was thy pain;
The wayes of Wisdom shall be pleasant wayes,
And thou shalt chuse therein to spend thy dayes.
If once thy Soul be brought to such a pass,
O'bless the Lord, and magnifie his Grace.
Thou, that of late hadst reason to be sad,
May'st now rejoyce, and be exceeding glad,
For thy condition is as happy now,
As erst it was disconsolate and low;
Thou art become as rich as whilome poor,
As blessed now, as cursed heretofore;
For being cleansed with Christs precious Blood,
Thou hast an int'rest in the chiefest good:
Gods anger is towards thy Soul appeased,
And in his Christ he is with thee well pleased.
Yea, he doth look upon thee with a mild
And gracious aspect as upon his child;
He is become thy Father and thy Friend,
And will defend thee from the cursed Fiend.
Thou need'st not fear the roaring Lyon's rage,
Since God Almighty doth himself engage
To bear thy Soul in Everlasting Armes,
Above the reach of all destructive harms.
What ever here thy sufferings may be,
Yet from them all the Lord shall rescue thee.
He will preserve thee by his wond'rous might
Unto that rich Inheritance in light.
Oh, sing for you, all ye regenerate,
Whom Christ hath brought into this blessed state!
O love the Lord, all ye his Saints, who hath
Redeemed you from everlasting wrath:
Who hath by dying made your Souls to live,
And what he dearly bought doth freely give:
Give up you selves to walk in all his wayes,
And study how to live unto his praise.
The time is short you have to serve him here:
The day of your deliv'rance draweth near.
Lift up your heads, ye upright ones in heart,
Who in Christ's purchase have obtain'd a part.
Behold, he rides upon a shining Cloud,
With Angels voice, and Trumpet sounding loud;
He comes to save his folk from all their foes,
And plague the men that Holiness oppose.
So come, Lord Jesus, quickly come we pray:
Yea come, and hasten our Redemption day.

poem by Michael Wigglesworth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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