VIII.

POETRY

Composed in repetition of the foregoing arguments.

Kind reader, we call, to each one and all,
And crave your attention, to view,
While we hold to your face, the following case,
Which now we lay open to you.

When we look on the earth, to this day, from her birth,
Such a day did we ever behold?
We now see her fate, therefore we relate,
A story that never was told.

When the earth was possess’d of peace and of rest,
Her nations like harlots did sing;
With her worship and pride, the beast they did ride,
‘Till her ears with sad tidings did ring.

Then her heart became weak, and her bowels did ache;
With diseases her body is swoll’n;
It is one single wound, from her feet to her crown,
By which all her nations have fall’n.

Her nerves and her pulse, with her blood, are convuls’d,
Her frame doth exceedingly shake;
On her hills and her dales, her mountains and vales,
Her people do tremble and quake.

Why doth the Lord plead, with vengeance indeed,
‘Gainst creatures made by his own hand;
To sweep them away, in an angry day,
And leave him a desolate land?

Let us search out and see, what wrath this can be,
That nothing but blood can atone;
Let us trace the way back, and find the great lack,
And see if his will can be known.

Some think the great cause, is the breach of such laws,
As leaving our duty undone;
By laying aside, religion our guide,
By which our true welfare is won.

To worship the Lord, in tongue and in word,
Wont hinder his anger to rise;
Where murder and pride, turn mercy aside,
There’s nothing but blood will suffice.

The old world did drown, the Egyptian’s sunk down,
Hot brimstone did Sodom consume;
Old Babylon fell where satyrs now dwell,
Jerusalem shar’d the like doom.

To each mentioned example, our case is a sample,
Where veng’ance ‘gainst sinners doth cry -
As Abel by Cain, have the martyrs been slain,
And their blood calls for vengeance on high.

In France, and in Spain, have thousands been slain,
In Britian, their bodies did fry -
New-England too, their steps did pursue -
In Boston, four Quakers did die.

What can cry more loud, than innocent blood?
What can so great judgments procure?
‘Gainst sinners so bold, as Cain was of old,
Who was sentenced God’s wrath to endure.

Still we have no man, like Daniel to stand,
As agent, and lay the case down -
And make a petition, in humble submission,
That mercy once more may be found.

But what says the word, interceding with God,
That cries from the saints that were slain?
Who bowed down their will, his word to fulfil,
Where their souls at the altar have laid.

O Lord unto thee, most holy and true,
Our souls from the altar doth call -
Being strangl’d and hang’d, by Babylon’s gang -
Our innocent blood let to fall.

In Paris, it’s said, the protestants bled -
Is it not remarkably strange,
How craving and keen, that black guillotine,
Drank Catholic blood in exchange?

Though vengeance as yet, has not paid the debt,
Of murder by Babylon’s crew -
Their blood crying still, it certainly will,
Completely give them their due.

As God has appointed, he girds his anointed,
And Buonaparte’s taken the field -
‘Gainst Babylon’s whore, the mad lion doth roar,
And cause her proud subjects to yield.

It is God that arose, his wrath to disclose,
And girded that warrior with power -
In wrath he doth reign, by blood of the slain,
As a ravenous beast to devour.

The nations do fear, to see him appear,
For his armies break forth like a flood -
To meet in the field, by death they must yield,
For he rules them by carnage and blood.

Alas, the great day, presents a sore fray,
And veng’ance cries I’m near at hand,
The earth to reprove, and kingdoms to move,
And who shall be able to stand?

The harvest is great, the reapers are met,
The day of decision draws near -
The wars in array, and the pestilence slay,
And famine doth bring up the rear.

O who is this here, from Edom appears,
From Bozrah with garments so dyed -
Comes traveling through, great work he will do,
Being righteous, doth valiantly ride.

The press it runs free, being trampled by me,
I’ve trodden the wine fat alone;
My garments I stain, with blood of the slain,
For the year of my ransom is come.

-----------------------------

A LAMENTATION,

For Mystery Babylon, at the dissolution of the union of church and state.

O Lucifer, our morning light,
How art thou fallen to the ground,
And all thy glory turned to night,
Thy pleasant voice an empty sound.

Come owls and dragons, rise and sing,
This lamentation for your fate,
And all the doleful creatures bring -
Not one of them shall lack her mate.

For unto heaven we did rise
Our glory with the stars did dwell -
Alas! we’re fallen from the skies,
With all our pomp thrust down to hell.

Come rocks, and mountains, cover us;
With vengeance stop our vital breath -
For all our splendor is accurs’d,
Therefore we crave untimely death.

We see our merchants stand aloof,
Weep and bewail their merchandise -
And of our mis’ry show a proof,
When they behold our torment rise.

They see us gasp with deathly groans,
Like deadly wounded men we cry -
With flaming fire in our bones,
Our smoking torments rising high.

What pleasant music once we heard,
The bride and bridegroom’s lovely voice -
Our shining candle then appear’d -
In wanton splendor we rejoic’d.

I sat, a Queen, in royal state,
My children dancing round my throne,
I little knew my dismal fate -
I now sit naked - all alone.

Come all you sailors! weep and mourn,
And wallow in the dust for me -
My glory never shall return,
In desp’rate horror I must be.

Where is my gold and precious things,
That once allured the human race -
I once joined, hand in hand, with kings,
And princes came to seek my face.

But now, alas, my dreadful doom!
If death would be my friend at last,
And hide me in his thoughtless room,
Then all my sorrows would be past.

But now my never-dying worm,
Must still abide an endless day -
In dark confusion there to squirm,
When all my glory’s fled away.

Into the regions of the ground,
With all my weapons, I must steer -
Where I shall never more be found,
Nor cause my terror to appear.

As I have glorifi’d my state,
And lived, delicious, with my guest -
Now gloomy torment is my mate,
And endless sorrow I possess.

-----------------------------

A SONG OF VICTORY,

At the restoration of the true church.

Rejoice, ye heavens, in the Lord,
And all ye holy saints as one -
He hath fulfilled his faithful word,
And utter’d vengeance from his throne.

As Israel travel’d through the sea,
And saw the host of Pharaoh drown’d,
So shall this mighty vict’ry be,
And not an enemy be found.

In the great city we were slain,
Our bodies in the street did lie -
Our en’mies did the vict’ry gain,
And triumph’d over us with joy.

But now we’ve risen from the dead,
And given them a mortal wound -
So in confusion they have fled
In haste, and given up the ground.

Now let us sing with one accord -
With humble spirit shout for joy -
Ascribe the vict’ry to the Lord,
For our redemption draweth nigh.

From Babylon depart, depart,
And let the cursed ruin stand -
Let not her gold entice our heart,
Nor cursed thing cleave to our hand.

Likewise from Sodom let us flee,
With haste, unto the plains retire -
And not return, our stuff to see,
Lest we’re consumed in the fire.

The waters of great Babylon,
Are all decayed and turn’d to blood -
Therefore is all her pow’r gone,
And she must drink that crimson flood.

The unclean spirits feel the drouth,
And from the beast and dragon leap,
And from the vain false prophet’s mouth,
Ten thousand frogs do loudly peep.

These are the spirits enter kings,
And work great wonders in their eyes -
Which will their full destruction bring,
When God Almighty shall arise.

The whore of Babylon is fled:
That on the scarlet beast was found -
The crown is fallen from her head,
The beast has thrown her to the ground.

Her daughters all bewail her state,
To see her naked, all alone -
Her golden cup is overset,
And her abominations known.

The saints shall triumph at her fall,
And shout like him that treads the wine -
And though their number is but small,
Yet they shall flourish like the vine.

The Lord has risen from his place,
The earth doth tremble at his voice -
The hypocrites doth flee apace,
The saints shall see it, and rejoice.

This is the day the Lord hath made,
We will rejoice to see it come -
The saints shall never be afraid,
When Babylon receives her doom.

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A Song for the True Church, on her

REDEMPTION FROM THE SWORD.

O Lord thou art a righteous judge.
Thy works are in thy hand -
And all thy creatures, great and small,
Before thy bar doth stand.

Thy word is like a piercing sword,
It cuts down whom thou will’st -
And every jot and tittle of
Thy righteous law fulfill’st.

And thou hast made the frame of man,
And soul of nothing less,
Than that bright image of thyself
Being plac’d within his breast -

Thou gav’st him reason of the mind,
To guide him for his good,
To make him happy all his days,
But not to shed his blood.

And when, through sin, he did offend,
Thou, Lord, who gav’st him breath,
In love did seek his ransom still,
To save a son from death.

For thou so lov’d the world of man,
Since that he must be slain -
Thou gav’st thy own begotten Son,
His ransom to obtain.

Therefore, if thou so loved us,
Should not we love each other?
And let us not a Judas be -
Nor Cain, who slew his brother.

Shall we, against thy word, presume
To handle swords and guns?
To shed our brother’s precious blood -
Being one Creator’s sons.

We know before our Savior came,
Thy people used the sword -
And was protected by thy hand,
When they obey’d thy word.

But since our dear Redeemer came,
According to thy will,
And preach’d a new and living way,
May we his word fulfill.

But yet the foes of Christ, our King,
Do glory in their shame -
And in the breach of thy new laws,
Reproach their Maker’s name.

Christ hath deliver’d us from wars,
And from the hurtful sword,
And told us to obey his voice,
And to believe his word.

How is thy prophecy fulfill’d,
Which we do much adore,
Where by thy prophet thou did’st say,
We shall learn war no more.

If we do not Christ’s words obey,
Which are to us so plain -
Our own salvation we despise,
And Christ hath died in vain.

Our lord did say, my voice obey,
My words do not despise;
And for all evil, do ye good,
And love your enemies.

We’re purchas’d with so great a price,
Nothing on earth can pay;
And may we lose all things on earth,
Thy Gospel to obey.

We’ll beat our swords to pruning hooks,
To plough-shares, all our spears;
Unto our Saviour we will look,
To keep us from all fears.

Upon that high and holy hill,
His presence to enjoy,
Where perfect union doth prevail,
And all see eye to eye.

There shall the calf and leopard feed,
The lamb and lion dwell;
The little child, the bear, the wolf,
Shall all be suited well.

And on that high and holy mount,
The blessing shall be found,
As showers upon the tender plant,
And dew upon the ground.

There does the holy city stand,
Where God is King alone;
It’s built upon a sure rock,
Christ is the corner stone.

Her gates stand open, every side,
To let poor creatures in;
But yet, before they can approach,
They must be cleans’d from sin.

Because the Lord is unto her,
A wall of fire around;
And is the glory in the midst,
Where naught unclean is found.

Poor sinners, all that fear the Lord,
And to those gates retire;
Christ sits to purify their hearts,
In the refiner’s fire,

But yet, without this burning wall,
This great confusion stands;
Where sin and righteousness is join’d,
And bound in iron bands.

The saint and sinner all combine
To join the holy train;
They all receive the sacred prayer,
And give the priest his gain.

They all unite, with one accord,
To shed their brethren’s blood;
The priest will lift his voice on high,
And give the praise to God.

They’re great, extensive, costly plans,
Continually maintain’d;
Where hundred thousand lives are lost,
And nothing good is gain’d.

Those great and costly ships of war,
Are jails to shut up men;
Being confined till battle day,
And executed then.

And though those ships resemble hell,
And are so stain’d with blood,
A holy priest is there employ’d
To preach the word of God.

How can that manly human soul,
That bright and glorious mind,
Be thus transform’d by satan, for
Destruction of its kind.

How can two sons of Adam’s race,
A duel pitch for death;
And gratify their lust to take
Each other’s vital breath?

Since satan so beguiled man,
And death became his fate,
God suffers him to make such laws,
As suits his fallen state.

Man seeking his own ruin still,
Being destitute of fear;
God suffers him to use the sword,
To stop his mad career.

This is the fate of mortal man,
A victim that has fell;
And placed between these great extremes,
For heaven or for hell.

“Whose heart is fasten’d to the earth,
by strong and endless ties;
while every sorrow cuts a string,
and urges him to rise.”

This is a saying hard to hear,
And painful to the mind;
Yet in the midst of this dark world,
God causes light to shine.

He makes a new and living way,
And calls to Adam’s sons
To leave the darkness, and avoid
The hazard that each runs.

By sending of his own dear son,
Invested with his word;
A peaceful kingdom to adopt,
And intercept the sword.

Being founded on the holy mounts,
The Lord doth love her gates;
Proclaims her glory to the world,
Beyond all other states.

The people that are born in her,
That walk amidst her springs,
Shall sing God’s praises with pleasant sounds
As instruments with strings.

And mention shall be made of those
That dwell without her wall,
Whose deadly weapons, with their pride
And pomp, shall surely fall.

Having gone through with our arguments against priest-craft, we must submit it to the conscience of every reader to judge for himself, who these are that we have thus described; for God is no respecter of persons, but in every nation they that fear God and work righteousness are accepted of him. It seems there is so much light in the world that man might see his own standing, were it not that "he loves darkness rather than light, because his deeds are evil."

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