The Fire of Meditation burns
What Sense into the Fancy turns.
And all is Grist that comes to Mill
Where thinking is with grace and skill
For all men know the busie mind
Into one Object not confin'd.
The touch, the taste, Eye, Ear and Smell,
Matter provide for musing well.
Invention, Judgment, Memory,
And Conscience have a faculty,
To make all praise him that made all :
The Sanctify'd thus bless Him shall .
There is a Stone (as I am told)
That turns all Metals into Gold :
But I believe, that there is none,
Save pious Meditation .
Yet if there be, sure this excels,
That m[ade] them Gold , and all things else.
The Brass , the Iron Doggs and Tongs ,
And Bellows that have leather Lungs
Fire, Wood, Brands, Ashes, Coals and Smoke ,
Do all to Godliness provoke:
The flame , the sparks, light, heat and motion ,
Are Metamorphosed to Devotion .
If Godliness be greatest gain ,
And doth when Gold is dross, remain;
Conclude then this Caelestial Stone .
Out does the Philosophick One .
The thoughts are like a swarm of Bees ,
That fly both when and where they please;
Those little folks both work and play ,
About a thousand flow'rs a day.
Yet in their lawless range contrive,
To bring in Honey to their Hive .
Who look for method in their march,
At Honey making are not arch.
The Sally's of our Author's Soul
So fly about without controul:
Sometimes they clamber Heavens steep,
And sometimes into Hell do peep.
Good meditation both improve,
For both to Godly living move.
Methinks I see him climb the Sky ,
Viewing the Flaming Fires on High,
And how the will of God, they do ,
That we on Earth may do so too.
And then to Hell he doth descend,
To know the Sinners woful end:
He stands aloof, and hears the cry
Of Guilty worms that cannot die ,
But live in Lakes of flaming Fire ,
That never! Never! shall Expire.
Then fir'd with zeal , like Lion bold,
Roars out, and tells what can't be told;
Warns men to fly from Wrath to come ,
Before the Judge pronounce their doom.
So snatching brands from Fire and Death ,
He may his Fingers burn therewith;
Yet better so, than burn our Souls ,
By vexing God, and pleasing fools.
Our Author judg'd such thoughts as these
Would profit men , and God would please:
If so, he gets his Souls desire,
And spent his time well by the Fire .
Who live nigh to the Frigid Zone ,
In Paenitentials may bemoan,
The loss of many precious hours,
The Fire side day and night devours:
For of all loss the Fire does bring
The loss of time's the saddest thing.
We have no cause to grudge at him ,
Who fills his time up to the brim,
And works for God, himself, and friends,
Ev'n whilst he warms his fingers ends .
Come Reader if thou dost aspire
To warm thy self by Holy Fire ,
Come set by this , or take a Coal ,
Which will both light and heat thy Soul:
And will perfume, and purifie
Thy mind, and make it heavenly.
It will not scorch thine eyes nor skin,
Nor will it Carbonade thy Shin :
Yet Bones and Marrow penetrates,
And like to like it generates.
Thine Hearth to make an Altar tries,
Thy self a Living Sacrifice;
And turns the use of common things
To Incense and Burnt offerings .
It will digest thy Crudityes ,
And save from slander, chat, and lyes.
And will redeem the time thou hast
[On] other Fire been wont to wast.
[Pr]eacheth the Refining trade ,
And of what metal thou art made;
[It] takes away the dross and tin ,
Makes Gold without, and Gold within;
It makes a New man of the Old ,
And cast's him in another mould.
Now if thy musing burn not thus,
Thy Fire's an Ignis fatuus .
Fear lest the Founder melt in vain,
With but his labour for his pain:
Lest thou prove Silver reprobate ,
Which God and man reject , and hate ,
And when the Great Refiner come,
Thou prove a Caput mortuum .
Excuse me, Reader, I have done ,
But thou hast scarcely yet begun:
Come, read the Book, and by and by,
Thou wilt commend it, what need I ?
And if the Authors Fire but burn,
Praise or dispraise will serve his turn.
But if these thoughts to thee seem vile,
Produce thine own , thou hadst the while;
If thine burn purer , I design,
To leave his Fire , and set by thine:
For I am cold , and need the best ,
Mean while what warms me I have blest .
What Sense into the Fancy turns.
And all is Grist that comes to Mill
Where thinking is with grace and skill
For all men know the busie mind
Into one Object not confin'd.
The touch, the taste, Eye, Ear and Smell,
Matter provide for musing well.
Invention, Judgment, Memory,
And Conscience have a faculty,
To make all praise him that made all :
The Sanctify'd thus bless Him shall .
There is a Stone (as I am told)
That turns all Metals into Gold :
But I believe, that there is none,
Save pious Meditation .
Yet if there be, sure this excels,
That m[ade] them Gold , and all things else.
The Brass , the Iron Doggs and Tongs ,
And Bellows that have leather Lungs
Fire, Wood, Brands, Ashes, Coals and Smoke ,
Do all to Godliness provoke:
The flame , the sparks, light, heat and motion ,
Are Metamorphosed to Devotion .
If Godliness be greatest gain ,
And doth when Gold is dross, remain;
Conclude then this Caelestial Stone .
Out does the Philosophick One .
The thoughts are like a swarm of Bees ,
That fly both when and where they please;
Those little folks both work and play ,
About a thousand flow'rs a day.
Yet in their lawless range contrive,
To bring in Honey to their Hive .
Who look for method in their march,
At Honey making are not arch.
The Sally's of our Author's Soul
So fly about without controul:
Sometimes they clamber Heavens steep,
And sometimes into Hell do peep.
Good meditation both improve,
For both to Godly living move.
Methinks I see him climb the Sky ,
Viewing the Flaming Fires on High,
And how the will of God, they do ,
That we on Earth may do so too.
And then to Hell he doth descend,
To know the Sinners woful end:
He stands aloof, and hears the cry
Of Guilty worms that cannot die ,
But live in Lakes of flaming Fire ,
That never! Never! shall Expire.
Then fir'd with zeal , like Lion bold,
Roars out, and tells what can't be told;
Warns men to fly from Wrath to come ,
Before the Judge pronounce their doom.
So snatching brands from Fire and Death ,
He may his Fingers burn therewith;
Yet better so, than burn our Souls ,
By vexing God, and pleasing fools.
Our Author judg'd such thoughts as these
Would profit men , and God would please:
If so, he gets his Souls desire,
And spent his time well by the Fire .
Who live nigh to the Frigid Zone ,
In Paenitentials may bemoan,
The loss of many precious hours,
The Fire side day and night devours:
For of all loss the Fire does bring
The loss of time's the saddest thing.
We have no cause to grudge at him ,
Who fills his time up to the brim,
And works for God, himself, and friends,
Ev'n whilst he warms his fingers ends .
Come Reader if thou dost aspire
To warm thy self by Holy Fire ,
Come set by this , or take a Coal ,
Which will both light and heat thy Soul:
And will perfume, and purifie
Thy mind, and make it heavenly.
It will not scorch thine eyes nor skin,
Nor will it Carbonade thy Shin :
Yet Bones and Marrow penetrates,
And like to like it generates.
Thine Hearth to make an Altar tries,
Thy self a Living Sacrifice;
And turns the use of common things
To Incense and Burnt offerings .
It will digest thy Crudityes ,
And save from slander, chat, and lyes.
And will redeem the time thou hast
[On] other Fire been wont to wast.
[Pr]eacheth the Refining trade ,
And of what metal thou art made;
[It] takes away the dross and tin ,
Makes Gold without, and Gold within;
It makes a New man of the Old ,
And cast's him in another mould.
Now if thy musing burn not thus,
Thy Fire's an Ignis fatuus .
Fear lest the Founder melt in vain,
With but his labour for his pain:
Lest thou prove Silver reprobate ,
Which God and man reject , and hate ,
And when the Great Refiner come,
Thou prove a Caput mortuum .
Excuse me, Reader, I have done ,
But thou hast scarcely yet begun:
Come, read the Book, and by and by,
Thou wilt commend it, what need I ?
And if the Authors Fire but burn,
Praise or dispraise will serve his turn.
But if these thoughts to thee seem vile,
Produce thine own , thou hadst the while;
If thine burn purer , I design,
To leave his Fire , and set by thine:
For I am cold , and need the best ,
Mean while what warms me I have blest .