Compyled By at the requeſt of a friend.,
Printed By Robert Charteris Printer
to the Kings moſt Excellent Majeſtie. 16061606.
A Godlie Dreame, Compyled by Eliz. Melvil, Ladie Culros yonger, at the requeſt of a friend.
Upon a day as I did mourne full ſore,
For ſundry things wherein my ſoule was greeved:
My greefe increaſed and grew more and more,
I comfort fled and could not be releeved.
With heavineſſe my hart was ſo miſcheeved,
I loathed my life, I could not eate nor drinke:
I might not ſpeake, nor looke to none that lived,
But muſed alone and divers things did thinke.
This wretched world did ſore moleſt my minde,
I thoght upon this falſe and mean age:
And how our harts were ſo to vice inclined,
That Satan ſeemde moſt fearefullie to rage.
Nothing in earth my ſorrow could aſſwage,
I felt my ſinne moſt ſtronglie to increaſe:
I greeved the ſpirit that wont to be my pledge,
My ſoule was plunged into moſt deepe diſtreſſe.
All merineſſe did aggravate my paine,
And earthlie joyes did ſtill increaſe my woe:
In companie I no waies could remaine,
But fled reſort, and ſo alone did goe.
My ſelie ſoule was toſſed to and fro,
With ſundrie thoughts which troubled me full ſore,
I preaſed to pray, but ſighs overſet me ſo,
I could do nought but grone and ſay no more.
The twinkling teares aboundantlie ran downe,
My hart was eaſde when I had mournde my fill:
Then I began my lamentation,
And ſaid, O Lord, how long is it thy will
That thy poore Saints ſhall be afflicted ſtill?
Alas, how long ſhall ſubtle Satan rage?
Make haſte, O Lord, thy promiſe to fulfill,
Make haſte to end our painefull pilgremage.
Thy ſelie Saints are toſſed to and fro,
Awake, O Lord, why ſleepeſt thou so long?
We have no ſtrength againſt our cruell fo,
In ſighs and ſobs new changed is our ſong,
The world prevailes, our enemies are ſtrong,
The wicked rage, but we are poore and weake:
O ſhew thy ſelfe, with ſpeede revenge our wrong,
Make ſhort theſe dayes even for thy choſens ſake.
Lord Jeſus come and ſave thine owne elect,
For Satan ſeekes our ſimple ſoules to ſlay:
The wicked world doth ſtronglie us infect,
Moſt monſtrous ſinnes increaſes day by day.
Our love growes colde, our zeale is worne away,
Our faith is failde, and we are like to fall:
The Lyon roares to catch us for his pray,
Make haſte, O Lord, before we periſh all.
Theſe are the dayes that thou ſo long foretold,
Should come before this wretched world ſhould end:
Now vice abounds, and charitie growes cold,
And even thine owne moſt ſtronglie doe offend.
The devill prevailes, his forces he doth bend,
If it could be to wreake thy children deare:
But we are thine, therefore ſome ſuccour ſend,
Receive our ſoules, we wearie wandring heere.
What can we doe, we clogged are with ſin,
In filthie vice our ſenſleſſe ſoules are drownde:
Though we reſolve, we never can begin
To mend our lives, but ſin doth ſtill abound.
When wilt thou come? when ſhal thy thy trumpet ſound?
When ſhall we ſee that great and glorious day?
O ſave us Lord, out of this pit profound,
And reave us from this loathſome lump of clay.
Thou knoweſt our harts, thou ſeeſt our whole deſire,
Our ſecret thoughts they are not hid from thee:
Though we offend, thou knoweſt we ſtrangelie tyre
To beare this weight, our ſpirit would faine be free.
Alas, O Lord, what pleaſure can it be
To live in ſin, that ſore doth preſſe us downe:
Oh, give us wings that we aloft may flie,
And end the fight that we may weare the crown.
Before the Lord when I had thus complainde,
My minde grew calme, mine hart was then at reſt:
Though I was faint, from foode yet I refrainde
And went to bed, becauſe I thought it beſt.
With heavineſſe my ſpirit was ſore oppreſde,
I fell on ſleepe, and so againe me thought
I made my mone, and then my greefe increaſt,
And from the Lord with teares I ſuccour ſought.
Lord Jeſus come, ſaid I, and end our greefe,
My ſpirit is vexed, the captive would be free:
All vice abounds, O ſend us ſome releefe,
I loath to live, I wish diſſolvde to be.
My ſpirit doth long, and thirſteth after thee,
As thirſtie ground requyres a ſhowre of raine:
My hart is dry, as frutleſſe barren tree
I feele my selfe, how can I heere remaine?
With ſighs and ſobs as I did ſo lament,
Into my dreame I thought there did appeare
A ſight moſt ſweete which did me wel content,
An Angell bright with viſage ſhyning cleare.
With loving lookes, and with a ſmyling cheare,
He asked me, why art thou thus ſo ſad?
Why groneſt thou ſo? what doeſt thou dwyning heere?
With carefull cryes in this thy bailfull bed.
I heare thy ſighs. I ſee thy twinkling teares,
Thou ſeemeſt to be in ſome perplexitie:
What meane thy mones, what is the thing thou feares?
Whom would thou have, in what place would thou be?
Faint not ſo faſt in thy adverſitie:
Mourne not ſo ſore, ſince mourning may not mend:
Lift up thy hart, declare thy greefe to me,
Perchance thy paine brings pleaſure in the end.
I ſight againe, and ſaid, alas, for woe,
My greefe is great, I can it not declare:
damaged this earth I wander to and fro,
A pilgrime ſore conſumde with ſighing ſore.
My ſinnes adamaged increaſes more and more,
I loath my life I wearie wandring heere;
I long for heaven, my heritage is there,
I long to live with my Redeemer deare.
Is this the cauſe, ſaid he, riſe up anone
And follow me, and I ſhall be thy guide:
And from thy ſighs leave off thy heavie mone,
Refraine from teares and caſt thy care aſide.
Truſt in my ſtrength, and in my word confide,
And thou ſhalt have thy heavie hearts deſire:
Riſe up with ſpeede, I may not long abide,
Great diligence this matter doth require.
My ſoule rejoyced to heare his words ſo ſweete,
I looked up and ſaw his face moſt faire:
His countenance revived my wearie ſprit,
Incontinent I cuiſt aſide my care.
With humble hart I praide him to declare
What was his Name, he anſwerde me againe:
I am thy God for whom thou ſighs ſo ſair,
I now am comde, thy teares are not in vaine.
With joyfull hart I thanked him againe,
Readie am I, ſaid I, and well content:
To follow thee, for heere I live in paine,
A wretch unworth my daies are vainlie ſpent.
Not one is juſt, but all is fiercelie bent
To runne to vice, I have no force to ſtand:
My ſins increaſe, which makes me ſore lament,
Make haſte, O Lord; I long to ſee that land.
Thy haſte is great, he anſwered me againe,
Thou thinkſt thee there, thou art tranſported ſo:
That pleaſant place muſt purchaſt be with paine,
The way is ſtrate, and thou haſt farre to goe.
Art thou content to wander to and fro,
Through great deſerts through water and through fire:
Through thornes and breares, and many dangers mo,
What ſaieſt thou now? thy feeble fleſh will tyre.
Alas, ſaid I although my fleſhe be weake,
My ſpirit is ſtrong and willing for to flee:
O leave me not, but for thy mercies ſake
Performe thy word, or elſe for dule I die.
I feare no paine ſince I ſhould walke with thee,
The way is long, yet bring me through at laſt:
Thou anſwerſt wel, I am content, ſaid he,
To be thy guide, but ſee thou grip me faſt.
Then up I roſe, and made no more delay,
My feeble armes about his neck I caſt:
He went before, and ſtill did guide the way,
Thogh I was weake, my ſpirit did follow faſt.
Throgh moſſe and myre, throgh ditches deepe we paſt,
Throgh pricking thornes, throgh water & throgh fyre,
Throgh dreadfull dennes which made my hart agaſt,
He bare me up when I began to tyre.
Sometime we clamme on craigie Mountaines hie,
And ſometimes ſtaid on uglie brayes of ſand:
They were ſo ſtay that wonder was to ſee,
But when I feard he held me by the hand.
Throgh thick and thin, throgh ſea and eke throgh land,
Throgh great deſerts we wandred on our way.
When I was weake and had no ſtrength to ſtand,
Yet with a looke he did refreſh me ay.
Throgh waters great we were compeld to waid,
Which was ſo deepe that I was like to drowne,
Sometime I ſanke, but yet my gratious guide
Did draw me up halfe dead and in a ſowne.
In woods moſt wilde, and far from any towne,
We thirſted throgh, the breares together ſtack:
I was ſo weake their ſtrength did beate me downe,
That I was forced for feare to flee aback.
Courage, ſaid he, thou art midway and more,
Thou may not tyre, nor turne aback againe:
Hold faſt thy grip, on me caſt all thy care,
Aſſay thy ſtrength thou ſhalt not fight in vaine.
I told thee firſt that thou ſhould ſuffer paine,
The nearer heaven the harder is the way:
Lift up thy hart and let thy hope remaine,
Since I am guide thou ſhalt not goe aſtray.
Fordward we paſt on narrow brigs of tree,
Over waters great that hiddeouſlie did roare:
There lay below that fearfull was to ſee,
Most uglie beaſts that gaped to devore.
My head grew light and troubled wondrous ſore,
My heart did feare, my feete begouth to ſlide:
But when I cride, he heard me evermore,
And held me up, O bleſſed be my guide.
Wearie I was, and thought to ſit at reſt,
But he ſaid no, thou may not ſit nor ſtand:
Hold on thy courſe, and thou ſhalt finde it beſt
If thou deſireſt to ſee that pleaſant land.
Though I was weake, I roſe at his command,
And held him faſt, at length he leit me ſee
That pleaſant place, that ſeemde to be at hand,
Take courage now, for thou art neare, ſaid he.
I looked up unto that Caſtell fair,
Gliſtring like gold and ſhining silver bright:
The ſtatelie towres did mount above the air,
They blinded me they cuiſt so great a light.
My heart was glad to ſee that joyfull ſight,
My voyage then I thought was not in vaine:
I him beſought to guide me there aright,
With many vowes never to tyre againe.
Though thou be neere the way is wondrous hard,
Said he againe, therefore thou muſt be ſtout:
Fainte not for feare, for cowards are debarde,
That have no heart to goe their voyage out.
Pluck up thy hart and grip me faſt about,
Out through this trance together we muſt goe:
The way is low, remember for to lout,
If this were paſt we have not many moe.
I held him faſt as he did give command,
And through the trance together then we went:
Where in the midſt great pricks or yron did ſtand,
Where with my feete was all betorne and rent.
Take courage now, ſaid he, and be content,
To ſuffer this, the pleaſure commes at laſt:
I anſwered not, but ran incontinent
Out over them all, and so the paine was paſt.
When this was done my heart did dance for joy,
I was ſo neere I thaught my voyage ended:
I ran before and ſaught not his convoy,
Nor askt the way becauſe I thought kende it.
On ſtaitlie ſteps moſt ſtoutlie I aſcended,
Without his helpe I thought to enter there:
He followed faſt and was right ſore offended,
And haſtelie did draw me downe the ſtare.
What haſte ſaid he, why ran thou ſo before?
Without my helpe thinkſt thou to clim ſo hie?
Come downe againe, thou yet muſt ſuffer more,
If thou deſireſt that dwelling place to ſee.
This ſtatelie ſtare it was not made for thee,
Hold thou that courſe thou ſhalt be thruſt aback:
Alas ſaid I, long wandring wearied me,
Which made me runne the neereſt way to take.
Then he began to comfort me againe,
And ſaid my friend, thou muſt not enter thair:
Lift up thy hart, thou yet muſt ſuffer paine,
The laſt aſſault of force it muſt be ſair.
This goodlie way although it ſeems ſo fair,
It is too hie, thou cannot clim ſo ſtay:
But looke below beneath that ſtatelie ſtare,
And thou ſhalt ſee another kinde of way.
I looked downe and ſaw a Pit moſt black,
Moſt full of ſmooke and flamming fire moſt fell:
That uglie ſight made me to flee aback,
I feared to heare ſo many ſhout and yell.
I him beſought that he the trueth would tell,
Is this, ſaid I, the Papiſts purging place?
Where they affirme that ſelie ſoules doe dwell,
To purge their ſinne before they reſt in peace.
The braine of man moſt warelie did invent
That purging place, he anſwered me againe:
For greedineſſe together they conſent,
To ſay that ſoules in torments muſt remaine.
While gold and goods releeve them of their paine,
Dipytfull ſpirits that did the ſame begin:
O blinded beaſts your thoughts are all in vaine,
My blood alone doth cleanſe the ſoule from ſin.
This Pit is Hell where through thou now muſt go,
There is the way that leads thee to thy land:
Now play the man, thou needſt not trimble ſo,
For I ſhall helpe and hold thee by the hand.
Alas, ſaid I, I have no force to ſtand,
For feare I faint to ſee that uglie ſight:
How can I come amongſt that bailfull band?
Oh helpe me now, I have no force nor might,
Oft have I heard that they that enters heere,
In this great golfe ſhall never come againe:
Courage, ſaid he, have I not bought thee deare?
My precious blood it was not ſhed in vaine.
I ſaw this place, my ſoule did taſte this paine,
Ere ever I went into my Fathers glore:
Through muſt thou go, but thou ſhalt not remaine,
Thou needſt not feare for I ſhall goe before.
I am content to doe thy whole command,
Said I againe, and did him faſt imbrace:
Then lovinglie he held me by the hand,
And in we went into that fearfull place.
Hold faſt thy grip, ſaid he, in any cace,
Let me not ſlip what ever thou ſhalt ſee:
Dread not the death, but ſtoutlie fordward prease,
For death nor hell ſhall never vanquiſh thee.
His words ſo ſweete did cheare my heavie hart,
Incontinent I cuiſt my care aſide:
Courage, ſaid he, play not a cowards part,
Though thou be weake, yet in my ſtrength confide.
I though me bleſt to have ſo good a guide,
Though I was weake, I knew that he was ſtrong:
Under his wings I thought me for to hide,
If any there ſhould prease to doe me wrong.
Into that Pit when I did enter in,
I ſaw a ſight which made my hart agaſt:
Poore damned ſoules tormented ſore for ſin,
In flamming fire were frying wonder faſt.
And uglie ſpirits, and as I thought them paſt
My hart grew faint, and I begouth to tyre:
Ere I was ware one gripped me at laſt,
And held me high above a flamming fyre.
ThThe fire was great, the heat did pearſe me ſore,
My faith grew weak, my grip was wondrous ſmall:
I trembled faſt, my feare grew more and more,
My hands did ſhake that I him held withall.
At length they louſed, then I begouth to fall:
And cride aloud, and caught him faſt againe;
Lord Jeſus come and rid me out of thrall,
Courage, ſaid he, now thou art paſt the paine.
With this great feare I ſtarted and awoke,
Crying aloud, Lord Jeſus come againe:
But after this no kinde of reſt I tooke,
I preaſed to ſleepe, but it was all in vaine.
I would have dreamde of pleaſure after paine,
Becauſe I know I ſhall it finde at laſt:
God grant my guide may ſtill with me remaine,
It is to come that I beleeved was paſt.
This is a dreame, and yet I thought it beſt
To write the ſame, and keepe it ſtill in minde:
Becauſe I knew there was no earthlie reſt
Preparde for us, that hath our harts inclinde
To ſeeke the Lord we muſt be purgde and finde,
Our droſſe is great the fire muſt try us ſore:
But yet our God is mercifull and kinde,
He ſhall remaine and helpe us evermore.
The way to Heaven I ſee is wondrous hard,
My Dreame declares that we have far to goe:
We muſt be ſtout for cowards are debarde,
Our fleſh of force muſt ſuffer paine and woe,
Theſe dririe waies and many dangers moe
Awaits for us, we can not live in reſt;
But let us learne ſince we are warned ſo
To cleave to Chriſt, for he can helpe us beſt.
O ſelie ſoules with paines ſo ſore oppreſt,
That love the Lord, and long for heaven ſo hie:
Change not your mindes for ye have choſen the beſt,
Prepare your ſelves for troubled muſt ye be.
Fainte not for feare in your adverſitie,
It is the way that leads you unto life:
Suffer a while and ye ſhall ſhortlie ſee
The land of reſt when ended is your ſtrife.
In wilderneſſe ye muſt be tride a while,
Yet fordward preaſe, and never flee aback:
Like pilgrimes poore and ſtrangers in exile,
Through faire and foull your journey ye muſt take.
The devill, the world, and all that they can make,
Will ſend their force to ſtoppe you in the way:
Your fleſh will faint and ſometime will grow ſlake,
Yet come to Chriſt and he ſhall helpe you ay.
The thornie cares of this deceitfull life,
Will rent your hart, and make your ſoule to bleede:
Your fleſh and ſprit will be at deadlie ſtrife,
Your cruell foe will hold you ſtill in dreed.
And throwe you downe, yet riſe againe with ſpeede,
And though ye fall yetly not loitring ſtill:
But call on Chriſt to helpe you in your neede,
Who will not faill his promiſe to fulfill.
In floods of woe when we are like to drowne,
Yet clim to Chriſt and grip him wounder faſt:
And though ye ſinke and in the deepe fall downe,
Yet cry aloud and he will beare at laſt.
Dread not the death, nor be not ſore agaſt,
Though all the earth againſt you ſhould conſpyre:
Chriſt is your guide, and when your paine is paſt
Ye shall have joy above your harts deſyre.
Though in this earth ye ſhall exalted be,
Feare ſhall be left to humble you withall:
For if ye chimne on toppes of mountaines hie,
The higher up, the neerer is your fall.
Your honey ſweete ſhall mired be with gall,
Your ſhort delight ſhall end with paine and greefe:
Yet truſt in God, for his aſſiſtance call,
And he ſhall helpe and ſend you ſoone releefe.
Though waters great doe compaſſe you about,
Though tyrants threat, though Lyons rage and rore:
Defy them all and feare not to win out,
Your guide is neere to helpe you evermore.
Though pricks of yron doe prick you wondrous ſore,
As noyſome luſtes that ſeeke your ſoule to ſlay:
Yet cry on Chriſt and he ſhall goe before,
The nearer heaven the harder is your way.
Runne but your race, ye muſt not fainte nor tyre,
Nor ſit, nor ſtand, nor turne aback againe:
If ye intend to have your harts deſyre,
Preaſe forward ſtill although it be with paine.
No reſt for you so long as ye remaine
As pilgrime poore into this loathſome life:
Fight out your fight, it ſhall not be in vaine,
Your rich rewarde is worth a greater ſtrife.
If after teares ye live a whyle in joy,
And get a taſte of that eternall glore:
Be not ſecure, nor ſlip not your convoy,
For if ye doe, ye ſhall repent it ſore.
He knoweth thsthe way, and he muſt goe before,
Clim you alone ye ſhall not miſſe a fall:
Your filthie fleſh it muſt be troubled more,
If ye forget upon your guide to call.
If Chriſt be gone, although ye ſeeme to flee
With golden wings above the firmament:
Come downe againe, ye ſhall not better be,
That pride of yours ye ſhall right ſore repent.
Then hold him faſt with humble hart ay bent,
To follow him, althogh through hell and death.
We went before, his ſoule was torne and rent,
For your deſerts he felt his fathers wrath.
Though in the end ye ſuffer torments fell,
Cleave faſt to him that felt the ſame before:
The way to heaven muſt be through death and hell,
The laſt aſſault will trouble you full ſore,
The Lyon then moſt cruellie will rore,
His time is ſhort, his forces he will bend:
The greater ſtrife; the greater is your glore,
Your paine is ſhort, your joy ſhall never end.
Rejoice in God, let not your courage faill,
Ye choſen Saints that are afflicted heere:
Though Satan rage, he never ſhall prevaile,
Fight to the end and ſtoutlie perſevere.
Your God is true, your bloode is to him deare,
Feare not the way, ſince Chriſt is your convoy:
When clouds are paſt the weather will grow cleare,
Ye ſow in teares, but ye ſhall reape in joy.
Both death and hell hath loſt their cruell ſting,
Your Captaine Chriſt hath made them all to yeelde:
Lift up your hearts and praiſes to him ſing,
Triumph for joy your enemies are kild.
The Lord of Hoſtes that is your ſtrength and ſheelde,
The Serpents head hath ſtoutlie tramped downe:
Truſt in his ſtrength, paſſe forward in the field,
Overcome in fight and ye ſhall weare the Crowne.
The king of kings if he be on our ſide,
We neede not feare who dare againſt us ſtand:
Into the field may we not baldlie bide,
When he ſhall helpe us with his mightie hand?
Who ſits above and rules both ſea and land,
Who with his breath doth make the hils to ſhake:
The Hoſtes of heaven are armed at his command,
To fight the field when we appeare moſt weake.
Pluck up your hart ye are not left alone,
The Lambe of God ſhall leade you in the way:
The Lord of Hoſtes that raignes on royall throne,
Againſt your foes his Banner will diſplay.
The Angels bright ſhall ſtand in good array,
To hold you up, ye neede not feare to fall:
Your enemies ſhall flee and be your pray,
Ye ſhall triumph and they ſhall periſh all.
The joy of heaven is worth a moments paine,
Take courage then, lift up your harts on hie:
To judge the earth when Chriſt ſhall come againe,
Above the clouds ye ſhall exalted be.
A Crowne of joy and true felicitie
Awaits for you when finiſht is your fight:
Suffer a while and ye ſhall ſhortlie ſee
A glore moſt great and infinite of weight.
Prepare your selves, be valiant men of war,
And thruſt with force out through the narrow way:
Hold on thy courſe and ſhrinke not back for feare,
Chriſt is your guide, ye ſhall not goe aſtray.
The tyme is neare, be ſober, watch and pray,
He ſees your teares, and he hath laid in ſtore:
A rich reward, which in that joyfull day
Ye shall receive and raigne for ever more.
Now to the King that create all of nought,
The Lord of Lordes that rules both land and ſea:
That ſaved our ſoules, and with his blood us bought,
And vinquiſht death triumphing on the tree.
Unto the great and glorious Trinitie,
That ſaves the poore, and doth his owne defend:
Be laud and glore, honour and majestie,
Power and praiſe, Amen, world without end.
A Verie Comfortable Song,
To the Tune of, Shall I let her goe.
Away vaine world bewitcher of mine heart,
My ſorrow ſhowes my ſinnes makes me to ſmart:
Yet will I not diſpare, but to my God repare,
He hath mercie ay, therefore will I pray,
He hath mercie ay, and loves me,
Though by his troubling hand he proves me.
Away, away, too long thou haſt me ſnarde,
I will not loſe more tyme I am preparde:
Thy ſubtle ſlights so flie, they have deceived me,
Though they ſweetlie ſmyle, ſmoothlie they begyle,
Though they ſweetlie ſmyle, ſuſpect them,
The ſimple ſort they ſyle, reject them.
Once more away ſhowes loath the world to leave,
Bids oft away with her that holds me ſlave:
Loath I am to forgoe, that ſweete alluring foe,
Since thy waies are vaine, ſhall I them retaine,Since 17 C2r
Since thy waies are vaine, I quyte thee,
Thy pleaſure ſhall no more delite me.
A thouſand times away, ah ſtay no more,
Sweete Chriſt me save, leſt ſubtle ſin devore:
Without thy helping hand, I have no force to ſtand,
Leſt I turne aſide, let thy grace me guide,
Leſt I turne aſide, draw neere me,
And when I call for helpe, Lord heare me.
What ſhall I doe, are all my pleaſures paſt?
Shall worldlie luſtes now take their leave at laſt?
Yea Chriſt, theſe earthly toyes, ſhal turn to hevenly joies,
Let the world be gone, I’le love Chriſt alone,
Let the world be gone, I care not,
Chriſt is my love alone, I feare not.