[A]
PULPIT
TO BE [LET]
Woe to the idle Shep[herd that] leaveth his Flock, Zechar. XI. 17.
With a just applause of those worthy Divines that stay with [us.]
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BEloved; and he sweetly thus goes on,
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Now where's [B]eloved? why Beloved's go[n]
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No morning Matt[ens no]w, no[r] Evening s[o]ng:
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Alas! the Pars[on can]not stay so long.
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With Clarken-well it fares as most in town,
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The light-heel'd Levit's broke, and the Spark flown;
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Broke did I say? they ne're had quit the place,
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Had they but set up with a [sp]ark of grace!
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They did the Pulpit as a C[o]ffin greet,
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And took the Surplice for a Winding-sheet.
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Had that so scar'd them? at the Bells sad tolls,
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They might have laid them by, and learnt of Pouls.
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But, for their parts, Who will? come in their rooms.
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They are not mad, to live among the Tombs.
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See how they choose three moneths to fly the rod,
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And dare not fall into the hands of God.
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For God of persons no respecter is,
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Then to respect themselves (pray'?) is't amiss?
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They that should stay, and teach us to reform,
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Gird up their loines, and run to 'scape the storm;
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And wing'd with fear, they flee to save their lives
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Like Lot, from Sodom, with their brats, and wives.
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This is a Tribe, that for his punishments
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Fear God; But keep not his Commandements.
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They dread the Plague, and dare not stand it's shock;
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Let Wolves, or Lions feed the fainting Flock.
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They made the Sheep the subject, now, men say,
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Not so much of their prayer, as their prey.
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But they are gon to have (it now appears)
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The Country hear them with their harvest ears.
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Whilst here at home, we find Christ's saying true,
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The harvest great is, but the lab'rers few.
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Yet, like enough, the heat o'th'day being or'e,
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You'l have them here again at the leventh hour.
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Think you these men believe with holy Paul,
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For them, to be dissolv'd, is best of all?
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Then, their own bodies they would never mind,
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More than the souls of those they left behind.
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Who now? those sons of Aaron being fled,
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Shall Stand between the living and the dead?
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We have at home the Plague, abroad the Sword;
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And will they add the famine of the word?
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But 'tis no matter, let what will, befall,
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A Recantation Sermon payes for all.
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Ne saevi, magne Sacerdos!
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FOr you that stay, I have another sense;
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These I revile, but you I reverence.
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You have stood firm, and God of mercy crav'd,
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And holding out unto the end are sav'd.
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You the true shepherds are, that would not keep
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Your lives a minute, would they save the Sheep.
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Not hirelings, that away in peril sneak,
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And leave the stones out of the wall to speak:
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Whose heinous guilt is of a dye so deep,
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It makes the dead even through the marble weep.
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You, you have stood to't, as unmov'd, as Rocks,
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And prov'd yourselves the only Orthodox;
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You have at Christs command handed your lives,
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Without Excuse of Oxen, Farmes, or Wives;
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To you shall therefore glorious crowns be given,
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And you shall shine bright as the Starres in heaven.
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Of life and death before you, well you choose:
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For, who will loose, shall save, will save, shall loose.
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With reverence to the sacred Word, I shall
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My theme an Embleme of the Bible call:
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For the Canonical, are those that stay,
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They that obscure, are the Apocrypha,
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Of whom a man shall make (nay even S. John)
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No Revelation, till the plague be gone.
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Well, let them march; we have the better bread:
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The Wheats the purer, now the Chaff is fled.
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Farewell wild Grapes; for my part let'em pass,
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The Gleaning's better than the Vintage was.
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And let Apostates ramble where they will,
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The Church reserves her better Angels still
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Which she embraces; for, in vain she cares
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For wandring Planets, that has fixed Starres.
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LONDON, Printed for the Author, in the year 1665.
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