A Wonderful Prophesie,
Declared by Christian James, a Maid of Twenty Years of Age, (late Daughter to Daniel James)
who was born and bred near the Town which is called Padstow, in the County of Cornwal, who
departed this Life upon the 8th. of March. With a True Relation of her Behaviour, both in
her Life-time, and at the Hour of her Death; worthy to be had in perpetual Memory.
To the Tune of In Summer-time.
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THE mighty Lord that rules in Heaven,
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strange Wonders doth in England send,
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And many Warnings hath us given,
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we our Lives should soon amend;
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But like the misbelieving Jews,
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so hard of Heart our People be,
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They think that nothing can be true,
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but that which their own Eyes do see.
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Therefore, good People, mark it well,
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I'll here lay open to your view
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A Song most wonderful and strange,
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and can approve it to be true:
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A Damsel did near Padstow dwell,
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within the County of Cornwal fair,
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Whose Parents had no Child but her;
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she was her Father's only Heir:
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To whom came many a brave Young Man,
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intending to make her a Wife:
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But never tempting Tongue could make.
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this Maid to change her Maiden Life:
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And though her Parents Riches had,
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and costly Garments her allow'd,
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In homely Habit she would go,
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and always hated to be proud.
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She ne'er was heard to curse or swear,
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nor any Word of Anger give,
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But courteous was in every thing,
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to them that did about her live:
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If she heard any one to swear,
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or take God's Sacred Name in vain,
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She told them that they crucified
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our Saviour Jesus Christ again.
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She often did frequent the Church,
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and also did relieve the Poor,
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The Widow and the Fatherless,
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she every Day fed at the Door.
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Upon a time, this Damsel she
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fell sick, and in a dealy sound
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She lay, for Twenty Hours space
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no Life in her could then be found.
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Her aged Father did lament,
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her Mother she shed many a Tear,
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She wept, she wail'd, she wrung her Hands
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for loss of this her Daughter dear.
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Alas! Alas! my Child, she said,
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how dearly have I tender'd thee;
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And wilt thou now forsake the World,
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and leave me in this misery!
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I would my birth had been my death,
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then never had I seen this Day!
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This grievous moan the Mother made
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by her dear Daughter as she lay;
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At last she did Strong Waters fetch,
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and rubs her Temples and each Vein,
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Till at the last the Damsel had
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recover'd Life and Sense again.
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And being come unto her Speech,
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with Voice most shrill aloud she cry'd,
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O Mother you have done me wrong,
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this cannot be by you deny'd;
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For I was in the way to Heaven,
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two glorious Angels did me guide,
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Who gently took me by the Hand,
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and held me up on every side.
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SInging of Psalms, and spiritual Songs,
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so long as we pass'd on the way,
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Till he which had a Golden Crown
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met us, and caused us to stay:
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Return, said he, from whence thou cam'st,
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thy Mother for thee makes great moan,
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And tell these things, which I declare,
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unto thy Neighbours every one.
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Speak this, quoth he, unto them all,
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How that the Lord e'er long will send
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A grievous Punishment to them
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that do his Will wilfully offend:
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This is the last Age of the World,
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even to the very sink of sin,
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The Puddle of Iniquity,
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which you long time have wallowed in.
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The Men and Wives live in discord,
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the Father envies his own Son,
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The Rich, and Poor, the Old, the Young,
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do hourly into Mischief run:
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Extortion and Idolatry,
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and hateful Pride is now in use;
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Blasphemous Oaths and Curses vile,
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the People count as no abuse.
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Good Ministers are set at naught,
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the Sabbath is prophan'd also,
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The Poor lies starving in the Street,
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opprest with sorrow, grief, and woe:
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The loathsome Sin of Drunkenness,
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and Whoredom, doth too much exceed;
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He that can do his Neighbour wrong,
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doth think he doth a Godly Deed.
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Now ponder well what I do say,
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Doom's dreadful Day is nigh at hand,
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Fire and Brimstone shall destroy
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the Heaven, the Earth, the Sea, and Land,
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And every Soul before the Lord,
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a just Account he then shall give;
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His Conscience shall a witness be,
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in what Condition he did live.
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Then he that hath done well shall pass
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forthwith to everlasting rest,
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And live amongst those glorious Saints,
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which Jesus Christ our Lord hath blest;
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Where Martyrs, Prophets, and Patriarchs,
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do Hallelujahs ever sing,
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Glory and Honour be to God,
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and unto Christ our Heavenly King.
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Then woe to them that have done ill,
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when they shall here the Sentence past,
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Depart ye Cursed into Hell,
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whose Fire for evermore shall last:
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The Sorrows which are here foretold,
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will come on you, e'er it be long,
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Except Repentance truly dwell
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In Hearts of all, both old and young.
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Repentance, and true watry Eyes,
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will help to quench the burning Flame
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Which he hath kindled, to consume
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this wicked World's most rotten Frame:
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Let not your Building all, so brave,
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be burnt and wasted with God's Ire,
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Nor let our Souls, for whom Christ dy'd,
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be burnt in Hell's eternal Fire.
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Here endeth the Prophecy.
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THese Spaeches spoke, the Maiden dy'd,
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and came no more to Life again;
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Her Soul, no doubt, is gone to Heaven,
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with glorious Angels to remain:
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At her decease, an Harmony
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of Musick there was heard to sound,
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Which ravish'd all the standers by,
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it did with sweetness so abound;
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It pierc'd the Earth and Air also,
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yet no Man knew from whence it came;
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But each one said it came from Heaven:
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And presently, upon the same,
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The Magistrates of that same Parish,
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which heard and saw this Wonder-strange,
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Desired to have it put in print,
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cause wicked Men their Ways may change.
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