Classic Poem

You that are branded for Rebellion
What whimsy Crotchets do you feed upon?
Under my Flag you fighting did Defie
And Vend much Venom spit at God most high:
You dar'de him as a Coward, out, and Went
Flinging your Poyson'd darts against his tent.
When Grace did sound her parle, you stopt the Eare:
You backward drew as she to you drew neere.
But whats this Grace, which you, forsooth, so prize,
For which you stand your own Sworn Enemies?
Whoever saw smelt, tasted felt the same?
Its but an airy notion, or a name.
Fine food for fools, or shallow brains, who know
No better fair and therefore let all go.
Did mercy better Cain, or make him thrive
When he pronounc'd himselfe a Fugitive?
What Benefit had Esau who did weep
And in Repenting teares did scald his Cheek?
Or what King Ahab, that he softly went?
Or what poore Judas that he did repent?
Grace doom'd them down to hellish flames, although
To Court the same they steep't their Souls in woe.
To whom she yields a smile, she doth expect
That with a smile, her smile they soon accept
But you have hitherto like sturdy Clowns
Affronted Grace and paid her Smiles with Frowns.
Nay Mercy lookes before she Gives, to see
That those to whom she gives true Christians bee.
That all the Graces of the Spirit do
Like Clouds of sweet perfume from such forth flow.
And that their Souls be to the spirits feet
An Aromatick Spicery most sweet.
Is't so with you? You from her scepter fly,
As judging it a grace graceless to dy.
Your Faith's a Phancy: Fear a Slavery.
Your Hope is Vain, Patience Stupidity.
Your Love is Carnall, selfish, set on toyes:
Your Pray'res are Prattle, or Tautologies.
Your Hearts are full of sins both small, and Greate.
They are as full as is an Egge of meate.
Your Holy Conference and talkings do
But for a Broken Piece of Non-Sense go.
If so, you are accurst; God doth impart
His Blessings onely on the broken heart.
But search your peace turnd o're, and view each side
Graces Magnetick touch will it abide?
Doth Mercys Sun through Peaces lattice clear
Shine in thy Soule? Then what's that Uproare there?
Look well about you, try before you trust.
Though Grace is Gracious; Justice still is just.
If so it be with you, say what you can
You are not Saints, or I no Sinner am.