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And warbling out the old, begin anew,

And thus they pass their youth in summer season,
Then follow thee into a better Region,

Where winter's never felt by that sweet airy legion

29

Man at the best a creature frail and vain,
In knowledg ignorant, in strength but weak,
Subject to sorrows, losses, sickness, pain,
Each storm his state, his mind, his body break,

From some of these he never finds cessation,

But day or night, within, without, vexation,

Troubles from foes, from friends, from dearest, near'st Relation

30

And yet this sinfull creature, frail and vain,
This lump of wretchedness, of sin and sorrow,
This weather-beaten vessel wrackt with pain,
Joyes not in hope of an eternal morrow;
Nor all his losses, crosses, and vexation,
In weight, in frequency and long duration

Can make him deeply groan for that divine Translation.

31

The Mariner that on smooth waves doth glide,
Sings merrily, and steers his Barque with ease,
As if he had command of wind and tide,
And now become great Master of the seas;
But suddenly a storm spoiles all the sport,

And makes him long for a more quiet port,
Which 'gainst all adverse winds may serve for fort.

32

So he that saileth in this world of pleasure,
Feeding on sweets, that never bit of th' sowre,
That's full of friends, of honour and of treasure,

M

Fond fool, he takes this earth ev'n for heav'ns bower.
But sad affliction comes & makes him see

Here's neither honour, wealth, nor safety;
Only above is found all with security.

33

O Time the fatal wrack of mortal things,
That draws oblivions curtains over kings,

Their sumptuous monuments, men know them not,
Their names without a Record are forgot,

Their parts, their ports, their pomp's all laid in th❜dust
Nor wit nor gold, nor buildings scape times rust;
But he whose name is graved in the white stone
Shall last and shine when all of these are gone.

то

1

TO MY DEAR AND LOVING HUSBAND

If ever two were one, then surely we.

If ever man were lov'd by wife, then thee;
If ever wife was happy in a man,

Compare with me ye women if you can.

I prize thy love more then whole Mines of gold,
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that Rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee, give recompence.
Thy love is such I can no way repay,
The heavens reward thee manifold I pray.
Then while we live, in love lets so persever,
That when we live no more, we may
live ever.

LONGING FOR HEAVEN

As weary pilgrim, now at rest,
Hugs with delight his silent nest
His wasted limbes, now lye full soft
That myrie steps, have troden oft
Blesses himself, to think upon

his dangers past, and travailes done

1 Rev. ii. 17.

The burning sun no more shall heat
Nor stormy raines, on him shall beat.
The bryars and thornes no more shall scratch
nor hungry wolves at him shall catch
He erring pathes no more shall tread
nor wild fruits eate, in stead of bread,
for waters cold he doth not long

for thirst no more shall parch his tongue No rugged stones his feet shall gaule

nor stumps nor rocks cause him to fall
All cares and feares, he bids farwell
and meanes in safity now to dwell.
A pilgrim I, on earth, perplext

with sinns with cares and sorrows vext
By age and paines brought to decay
and my Clay house mouldring away
Oh how I long to be at rest

and soare on high among the blest.
This body shall in silence sleep

Mine eyes no more shall ever weep
No fainting fits shall me assaile

nor grinding paines my body fraile
With cares and feares ne'r cumbred be
Nor losses know, nor sorrowes see
What tho my flesh shall there consume
it is the bed Christ did perfume
And when a few yeares shall be gone
this mortall shall be cloth'd upon
A Corrupt Carcasse downe it lyes
a glorious body it shall rise
In weaknes and dishonour sowne
in power 'tis rais'd by Christ alone
Then soule and body shall unite

and of their maker have the sight
Such lasting joyes shall there behold
as eare ne'r heard nor tongue e'er told
Lord make me ready for that day

then Come deare bridgrome Come away. Aug: 31, 69.

MEDITATIONS, DIVINE AND MORALL

I

There is no object that we see; no action that we doe; no good that we injoy; no evill that we feele, or fear, but we may make some spirituall advantage of all: and he that makes such improvement is wise, as well as pious.

II

Many can speak well, but few can do well. We are better scholars in the Theory then the practique part, but he is a true Christian that is a proficient in both.

III

Youth is the time of getting, middle age of improving, and old age of spending; a negligent youth is usually attended by an ignorant middle age, and both by an empty old age. He that hath nothing to feed on but vanity and lyes must needs lye down in the Bed of sorrow.

IV

A ship that beares much saile, and little or no ballast, is easily overset; and that man, whose head hath great abilities, and his heart little or no grace, is in danger of foundering.

V

It is reported of the peakcock that, prideing himself in his gay feathers, he ruffles them up; but, spying his black feet, he soon lets fall his plumes, so he that glories in his gifts and adornings, should look upon his Corruptions, and that will damp his high thoughts.

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The finest bread hath the least bran; the purest hony, the least wax; and the sincerest christian, the least self-love.

MICHAEL WIGGLESWORTH

[Michael Wigglesworth, the most popular versifier of early New England Puritanism, was born in England, but came to America with his parents in 1638, at the age of seven. He was graduated from Harvard in 1651, and was for a time tutor in that institution. For nearly half a century he was pastor of the church at Malden, Mass., though for long periods of time he was unable to preach on account of ill health. During these periods his avocations seem to have been medicine and versifying. He became a skilful physician, and some of his poems show his familiarity with medical phraseology. The poem which made him famous was "The Day of Doom, or a Poetical Description of the Great and Last Judgment." This was published in 1662, and has been many times reprinted in both England and America. It consists of two hundred and twenty-four eight-line stanzas of jigging octosyllabics, and describes in detailed and graphic manner the events of the Judgment Day. In the part of the poem which the author's contemporaries probably found most edifying, different classes of sinners offer pleas for mercy, and are in turn answered by the Judge. The popularity of the poem was doubtless due in part to the vivid descriptions, which must have been especially striking to readers who knew little poetry except that which presented abstract moralizing; and in part to the fact that the answers to different sinners expounded in easily remembered jingles many of the chief doctrines of Calvinism. At all events "The Day of Doom" was long considered a religious classic. It was almost universally read, and innumerable children were required to learn it with their catechisms. Of late years the want of dignity and fitness in its form, together with the harshness of the pictures that it presents, have combined to make it as notorious as it was once famous.

Michael Wigglesworth also wrote a few other poems, including "Meat out of the Eater, or Meditations concerning the Necessity, End, and Usefulness of Affliction to God's Children," published in 1669, and "God's Controversy with New England, written in the Time of the Great Drought, anno 1662, by a Lover of New England's Prosperity," first printed in the Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society, for 1871.

As no copy of the "Day of Doom" published in Wigglesworth's lifetime is available, the selections that follow are taken from the edition prepared by William Henry Burr in 1867. This is based on the edition of 1715, compared with the London edition of 1673. The spelling and, to some extent, the punctuation have been modernized. The closing stanzas of "God's Controversy with New England" are from the Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society.]

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