John Bunyan: Verses about Time

Eternity is like unto a Ring.
Time, like to Measure, doth it self extend;
Measure commences, is a finite thing.
The Ring has no beginning, middle, end.

This glass, when made, was, by the workman's skill,
The sum of sixty minutes to fulfil.
Time, more nor less, by it will out be spun,
But just an hour, and then the glass is run.
Man's life we will compare unto this glass,
The number of his months he cannot pass;
But when he has accomplished his day,
He, like a vapour, vanisheth away.

These lines I at this time present
To all that will them heed,
Wherein I show to what intent
God saith, Convert[2] with speed.

For these four things come on apace,
Which we should know full well,
Both death and judgment, and, in place
Next to them, heaven and hell.

For doubtless man was never born
For this life and no more:
No, in the resurrection morn
They must have weal or woe.

Can any think that God should take
That pains, to form a man
So like himself, only to make
Him here a moment stand?

Or that he should make such ado,
By justice, and by grace;
By prophets and apostles too,
That men might see his face?

Or that the promise he hath made,
Also the threatenings great,
Should in a moment end and fade?
O! no, this is a cheat.

Besides, who is so mad, or worse,
To think that Christ should come
From glory, to be made a curse,
And that in sinners' room,

If nothing should by us be had
When we are gone from hence,
But vanities, while here? O mad
And foolish confidence.

Again, shall God, who is the truth,
Say there is heaven and hell
And shall men play that trick of youth
To say, But who can tell?

Shall he that keeps his promise sure
In things both low and small,
Yet break it like a man impure,
In matters great'st of all?

O, let all tremble at that thought,
That puts on God the lie,
That saith men shall turn unto nought
When they be sick and die.

Alas, death is but as the door
Through which all men do pass,
To that which they for evermore
Shall have by wrath or grace.

Let all therefore that read my lines,
Apply them to the heart:
Yea, let them read, and turn betimes,
And get the better part.

Mind therefore what I treat on here,
Yea, mind and weigh it well;
'Tis death and judgment, and a clear
Discourse of heaven and hell.

When I do this begin to apprehend,
My heart, my soul, and mind, begins to bend

To God-ward, and sincerely for to love
His son, his ways, his people, and to move

With brokenness of spirit after him
Who broken was, and killed for my sin.

Now is mine heart grown holy, now it cleaves
To Jesus Christ my Lord, and now it leaves

Those ways that wicked be; it mourns because
It can conform no more unto the laws

Of God, who loved me when I was vile,
And of sweet Jesus, who did reconcile

Me unto justice by his precious blood,
When no way else was left to do me good.

If you would know how this can operate
Thus on the soul, I shall to you relate

A little farther what my soul hath seen
Since I have with the Lord acquainted been.

The word of grace, when it doth rightly seize
The spirit of a man, and so at ease

Doth set the soul, the Spirit of the Lord
Doth then with might accompany the word;

In which it sets forth Christ as crucified,
And by that means the Father pacified

With such a wretch was thou, and by this sight,
Thy guilt is in the first place put to flight,

For thus the Spirit doth expostulate:
Behold how God doth now communicate

(By changing of the person) grace to thee
A sinner, but to Christ great misery,

Though he the just one was, and so could not
Deserve this punishment; behold, then, what

The love of God is! how 'tis manifest,
And where the reason lies that thou art blest.

This doctrine being spoken to the heart,
Which also is made yield to every part

Thereof, it doth the same with sweetness fill,
And so doth sins and wickednesses kill;

For when the love of God is thus reveal'd,
And thy poor drooping spirit thereby seal'd,

And when thy heart, as dry ground, drinks this in
Unto the roots thereof, which nourish sin,

It smites them, as the worm did Jonah's gourd,
And makes them dwindle of their own accord,

And die away; instead of which there springs
Up life and love, and other holy things.

Besides, the Holy Spirit now is come,
And takes possession of thee as its home;

By which a war maintained always is
Against the old man and the deeds of his.

When God at first upon mount Sinai spake,
He made his very servant Moses quake;

But when he heard the law the second time,
His heart was comforted, his face did shine.

What was the reason of this difference,
Seeing no change was in the ordinance,

Although a change was in the manner, when
The second time he gave it unto men?

At first 'twas given in severity,
In thunder, blackness, darkness, tempest high,

In fiery flames it was delivered.
This struck both Moses and the host as dead;

But Moses, when he went into the mount
The second time, upon the same account

No fear, nor dread, nor shaking of his mind,
Do we in all the holy Scripture find;

But rather in his spirit he had rest,
And look'd upon himself as greatly blest.

He was put in the rock, he heard the name,
Which on the mount the Lord did thus proclaim:

The Lord, merciful, gracious, and more,
Long-suffering, and keeping up in store

Mercy for thousands, pardoning these things,
Iniquity, transgressions, and sins,

And holding guilty none but such as still
Refuse forgiveness, of rebellious will.

This proclamation better pleased him
Than all the thunder and the light'ning.

Which shook the mount, this rid him of his fear,
This made him bend, make haste, and worship there.

Jehoshaphat, when he was sore opprest
By Amnon and by Moab, and the rest

Of them that sought his life, no rest he found,
Until a word of faith became a ground

To stay himself upon; O, then they fell,
His very song became their passing-bell.

Then holiness of heart a consequence
Of faith in Christ is, for it flows from thence;

The love of Christ in truth constraineth us,
Of love sincerely to make judgment thus:

He for us died that for ever we
Might die to sin, and Christ his servants be.

O! nothing's like to the remembrance
Of what it is to have deliverance

From death and hell, which is of due our right,
Nothing, I say, like this to work delight

In holy things; this like live honey runs,
And needs no pressing out of honey-combs.

The title page will show, if there thou look,
Who are the proper subjects of this book.

They're boys and girls of all sorts and degrees,
From those of age to children on the knees.

Thus comprehensive am I in my notions,
They tempt me to it by their childish motions.

We now have boys with beards, and girls that be
Big[8]as old women, wanting gravity.

Then do not blame me, 'cause I thus describe them.
Flatter I may not, lest thereby I bribe them

To have a better judgment of themselves,
Than wise men have of babies on their shelves.[9]

Their antic tricks, fantastic modes, and way,
Show they, like very boys and girls, do play

With all the frantic fopperies of this age,
And that in open view, as on a stage;

Our bearded men do act like beardless boys;
Our women please themselves with childish toys.

Our ministers, long time, by word and pen,
Dealt with them, counting them not boys, but men.

Thunderbolts they shot at them and their toys,
But hit them not, 'cause they were girls and boys.

The better charg'd, the wider still they shot,
Or else so high, these dwarfs they touched not.

Instead of men, they found them girls and boys,
Addict to nothing as to childish toys.

Wherefore, good reader, that I save them may,
I now with them the very dotterel[10] play;

And since at gravity they make a tush,
My very beard I cast behind a bush;

And like a fool stand fing'ring of their toys,
And all to show them they are girls and boys.

Nor do I blush, although I think some may
Call me a baby, 'cause I with them play.

I do't to show them how each fingle-fangle
On which they doting are, their souls entangle,

As with a web, a trap, a gin, or snare;
And will destroy them, have they not a care.

Paul seemed to play the fool, that he might gain
Those that were fools indeed, if not in grain;[11]

And did it by their things, that they might know
Their emptiness, and might be brought unto

What would them save from sin and vanity,
A noble act, and full of honesty.

Yet he nor I would like them be in vice,
While by their playthings I would them entice,

To mount their thoughts from what are childish toys,
To heaven, for that's prepared for girls and boys.

Nor do I so confine myself to these,
As to shun graver things; I seek to please

Those more compos'd with better things than toys;
Though thus I would be catching girls and boys.

Wherefore, if men have now a mind to look,
Perhaps their graver fancies may be took

With what is here, though but in homely rhymes:
But he who pleases all must rise betimes.

Some, I persuade me, will be finding fault,
Concluding, here I trip, and there I halt:

No doubt some could those grovelling notions raise
By fine-spun terms, that challenge might the bays.

But should all men be forc'd to lay aside
Their brains that cannot regulate the tide

By this or that man's fancy, we should have
The wise unto the fool become a slave.

What though my text seems mean, my morals be
Grave, as if fetch'd from a sublimer tree.

And if some better handle[12] can a fly,
Than some a text, why should we then deny

Their making proof, or good experiment,
Of smallest things, great mischiefs to prevent?

Wise Solomon did fools to piss-ants[13] send,
To learn true wisdom, and their lies to mend.

Yea, God by swallows, cuckoos, and the ass,[14]
Shows they are fools who let that season pass,

Which he put in their hand, that to obtain
Which is both present and eternal gain.

I think the wiser sort my rhymes may slight,
But what care I, the foolish will delight

To read them, and the foolish God has chose,
And doth by foolish things their minds compose,

And settle upon that which is divine;
Great things, by little ones, are made to shine.

I could, were I so pleas'd, use higher strains:
And for applause on tenters[15] stretch my brains.

But what needs that? the arrow, out of sight,
Does not the sleeper, nor the watchman fright;

To shoot too high doth but make children gaze,
'Tis that which hits the man doth him amaze.

And for the inconsiderableness
Of things, by which I do my mind express,

May I by them bring some good thing to pass,
As Samson, with the jawbone of an ass;

Or as brave Shamgar, with his ox's goad
(Both being things not manly, nor for war in mode),

I have my end, though I myself expose
To scorn; God will have glory in the close.

Death, as a king rampant and stout
The world he dare engage;
He conquers all, yea, and doth rout
The great, strong, wise, and sage.

No king so great, nor prince so strong,
But death can make to yield,
Yea, bind and lay them all along,
And make them quit the field.

Where are the victors of the world,
With all their men of might?
Those that together kingdoms hurl'd,
By death are put to flight.

How feeble is the strongest hand,
When death begins to gripe!
The giant now leaves off to stand,
Much less withstand and fight.

The man that hath a lion's face
Must here give place and bend,
Yea, though his bones were bars of brass,
'Tis vain here to contend.

Submit he must to feeble ones,
To worms who will enclose
His skin and flesh, sinews and bones,
And will thereof dispose

Among themselves, as merchants do
The prizes they have got;
Or as the soldiers give unto
Each man the share and lot,

Which they by dint of sword have won,
From their most daring foe;
While he lies by as still as stone,
Not knowing what they do.

Beauty death turns to rottenness,
And youth to wrinkled face;
The witty he brings to distress,
And wantons to disgrace.

The wild he tames, and spoils the mirth
Of all that wanton are,
He takes the worldling from his worth,
And poor man from his care.

Death favours none, he lays at all,
Of all sorts and degree;
Both old and young, both great and small,
Rich, poor, and bound, and free.

No fawning words will flatter him,
Nor threat'nings make him start;
He favours none for worth or kin,
All must taste of his dart.

What shall I say? the graves declare
That death shall conquer all;
There lie the skulls, dust, bones, and there
The mighty daily fall.

The very looks of death are grim
And ghastly to behold;
Yea, though but in a dead man's skin,
When he is gone and cold.

How 'fraid are some of dead men's beds,
And others of their bones;
They neither care to see their heads,
Nor yet to hear their groans.

Now all these things are but the shade
And badges of his coat;[3]
The glass that runs, the scythe and spade,
Though weapons more remote:

Yet such as make poor mortals shrink
And fear, when they are told,
These things are signs that they must drink
With death; O then how cold.

It strikes them to the heart! how do
They study it to shun!
Indeed who can bear up, and who
Can from these shakings run?

But how much more then when he comes
To grapple with thy heart;
To bind with thread thy toes and thumbs,[4]
And fetch thee in his cart?

Then will he cut thy silver cord,
And break thy golden bowl;
Yea, break that pitcher which the Lord
Made cabin for thy soul.

Thine eyes, that now are quick of sight,
Shall then no way espy
How to escape this doleful plight,
For death will make thee die.

Those legs that now can nimbly run,
Shall then with faintness fail
To take one step, death's dart to shun,
When he doth thee assail.

That tongue that now can boast and brag
Shall then by death be tied
So fast, as not to speak or wag,
Though death lies by thy side.

Thou that didst once incline thine ear
Unto the song and tale,
Shall only now death's message hear,
While he, with face most pale,

Doth reason with thee how thy days
Hath hitherto been spent;
And what have been thy deeds and ways,
Since God thee time hath lent.

Then will he so begin to tear
Thy body from thy soul,
And both from life, if now thy care
Be not on grace to roll.

Death puts on things another face
Than we in health do see:
Sin, Satan, hell, death, life and grace
Now great and weighty be.

Yea, now the sick man's eye is set
Upon a world to come:
He also knows too without let[5]
That there must be his home.

Either in joy, in bliss and light,
Or sorrow, woe, and grief;
Either with Christ and saints in white,
Or fiends, without relief.

But, O! the sad estate that then
They will be in that die
Both void of grace and life! poor men!
How will they fear and cry.

Ha! live I may not, though I would
For life give more than all;
And die I dare not, though I should
The world gain by my fall.

No, here he must no longer stay,
He feels his life run out,
His night is come, also the day
That makes him fear and doubt.

He feels his very vitals die,
All waxeth pale and wan;
Nay, worse, he fears to misery
He shortly must be gone.

Death doth already strike his heart
With his most fearful sting
Of guilt, which makes his conscience start,
And quake at every thing.

Yea, as his body doth decay
By a contagious grief,
So his poor soul doth faint away
Without hope or relief.

Thus while the man is in this scare,
Death doth still at him lay;
Live, die, sink, swim, fall foul or fair,[6]
Death still holds on his way.

Still pulling of him from his place,
Full sore against his mind;
Death like a sprite stares in his face,
And doth with links him bind.

And carries him into his den,
In darkness there to lie,
Among the swarms of wicked men
In grief eternally.

For only he that God doth fear
Will now be counted wise:
Yea, he that feareth him while here,
He only wins the prize.

'Tis he that shall by angels be
Attended to that bliss
That angels have; for he, O he,
Of glory shall not miss.

Those weapons and those instruments
Of death, that others fright:
Those dreadful fears and discontents
That brings on some that night.

That never more shall have a day,
Brings this man to that rest
Which none can win but only they
Whom God hath called and blest

With the first fruits of saving grace,
With faith, hope, love, and fear
Him to offend; this man his face
In visions high and clear,

Shall in that light which no eye can
Approach unto, behold
The rays and beams of glory, and
Find there his name enroll'd,

Among those glittering starts of light
That Christ still holdeth fast
In his right hand with all his might,
Until that danger's past,

That shakes the world, and most hath dropt
Into grief and distress,
O blessed then is he that's wrapt
In Christ his righteousness.

This is the man death cannot kill,
For he hath put on arms;
Him sin nor Satan hath not skill
To hurt with all their charms.

A helmet on his head doth stand,
A breastplate on his heart:
A shield also is in his hand,
That blunteth every dart.

Truth girds him round the reins, also
His sword is on his thigh;
His feet in shoes of peace do go
The ways of purity.

His heart it groaneth to the Lord,
Who hears him at his call,
And doth him help and strength afford,
Wherewith he conquers all.

Thus fortified, he keeps the field
While death is gone and fled;
And then lies down upon his shield
Till Christ doth raise the dead.

WHEN at the first I took my pen in hand
Thus for to write, I did not understand

That I at all should make a little book
In such a mode: nay, I had undertook

To make another; which, when almost done,
Before I was aware I this begun.

And thus it was: I, writing of the way
And race of saints in this our gospel-day,

Fell suddenly into an allegory
About their journey, and the way to glory,

In more than twenty things which I set down
This done, I twenty more had in my crown,

And they again began to multiply,
Like sparks that from the coals of fire do fly.

Nay, then, thought I, if that you breed so fast,
I'll put you by yourselves, lest you at last

Should prove ad infinitum, I and eat out
The book that I already am about.

Well, so I did; but yet I did not think
To show to all the world my pen and ink

In such a mode; I only thought to make
I knew not what: nor did I undertake

Thereby to please my neighbor; no, not I;
I did it my own self to gratify.

Neither did I but vacant seasons spend
In this my scribble; nor did I intend

But to divert myself, in doing this,
From worser thoughts, which make me do amiss.

Thus I set pen to paper with delight,
And quickly had my thoughts in black and white;

For having now my method by the end,
Still as I pull'd, it came; and so I penned

It down; until it came at last to be,
For length and breadth, the bigness which you see.

Well, when I had thus put mine ends together
I show'd them others, that I might see whether

They would condemn them, or them justify:
And some said, let them live; some, let them die:

Some said, John, print it; others said, Not so:
Some said, It might do good; others said, No.

Now was I in a strait, and did not see
Which was the best thing to be done by me:

At last I thought, Since ye are thus divided,
I print it will; and so the case decided.

For, thought I, some I see would have it done,
Though others in that channel do not run:

To prove, then, who advised for the best,
Thus I thought fit to put it to the test.

I further thought, if now I did deny
Those that would have it, thus to gratify;

I did not know, but hinder them I might
Of that which would to them be great delight.

For those which were not for its coming forth,
I said to them, Offend you, I am loath;

Yet since your brethren pleased with it be,
Forbear to judge, till you do further see.

If that thou wilt not read, let it alone;
Some love the meat, some love to pick the bone.

Yea, that I might them better palliate,
I did too with them thus expostulate:

May I not write in such a style as this?
In such a method too, and yet not miss

My end-thy good? Why may it not be done?
Dark clouds bring waters, when the bright bring none.

Yea, dark or bright, if they their silver drops
Cause to descend, the earth, by yielding crops,

Gives praise to both, and carpeth not at either,
But treasures up the fruit they yield together;

Yea, so commixes both, that in their fruit
None can distinguish this from that; they suit

Her well when hungry; but if she be full,
She spews out both, and makes their blessing null.

You see the ways the fisherman doth take
To catch the fish; what engines doth he make!

Behold how he engageth all his wits;
Also his snares, lines, angles, hooks, and nets:

Yet fish there be, that neither hook nor line,
Nor snare, nor net, nor engine can make thine:

They must be groped for, and be tickled too,
Or they will not be catch'd, whate'er you do.

How does the fowler seek to catch his game
By divers means! all which one cannot name.

His guns, his nets, his lime-twigs, light and bell:
He creeps, he goes, he stands; yea, who can tell

Of all his postures? yet there's none of these
Will make him master of what fowls he please.

Yea, he must pipe and whistle, to catch this;
Yet if he does so, that bird he will miss.

If that a pearl may in toad's head dwell,
And may be found too in an oyster-shell;

If things that promise nothing, do contain
What better is than gold; who will disdain,

That have an inkling to of it, there to look,
That they may find it. Now my little book,

(Though void of all these paintings that may make
It with this or the other man to take,)

Is not without those things that do excel
What do in brave but empty notions dwell.

"Well, yet I am not fully satisfied
That this your book will stand, when soundly tried."

Why, what's the matter? "It is dark." What though?
"But it is feigned." What of that? I trow

Some men by feigned words, as dark as mine,
Make truth to spangle, and its rays to shine.

"But they want solidness." Speak, man, thy mind.
"They drown the weak; metaphors make us blind."

Solidity, indeed, becomes the pen
Of him that writeth things divine to men:

But must I needs want solidness, because
By metaphors I speak? Were not God's laws,

His gospel laws, in olden time held forth
By types, shadows, and metaphors? Yet loth

Will any sober man be to find fault
With them, lest he be found for to assault

The highest wisdom! No, he rather stoops,
And seeks to find out what, by pins and loops,

By calves and sheep, by heifers, and by rams,
By birds and herbs, and by the blood of lambs,

God speaketh to him; and happy is he
That finds the light and grace that in them be.

But not too forward, therefore, to conclude
That I want solidness-that I am rude;

All things solid in show, not solid be;
All things in parable despise not we,

Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive,
And things that good are, of our souls bereave.

My dark and cloudy words they do but hold
The truth, as cabinets inclose the gold.

The prophets used much by metaphors
To set forth truth: yea, who so considers

Christ, his apostles too, shall plainly see,
That truths to this day in such mantles be.

Am I afraid to say, that holy writ,
Which for its style and phrase puts down all wit,

Is everywhere so full of all these things,
Dark figures, allegories? Yet there springs

From that same book, that lustre, and those rays
Of light, that turn our darkest nights to days.

Come, let my carper to his life now look,
And find there darker lines than in my book

He findeth any; yea, and let him know,
That in his best things there are worse lines too.

May we but stand before impartial men,
To his poor one I durst adventure ten,

That they will take my meaning in these lines
Far better than his lies in silver shrines.

Come, truth, although in swaddling-clothes, I find
Informs the judgment, rectifies the mind;

Pleases the understanding, makes the will
Submit, the memory too it doth fill

With what doth our imagination please;
Likewise it tends our troubles to appease.

Sound words, I know, Timothy is to use,
And old wives' fables he is to refuse;

But yet grave Paul him nowhere doth forbid
The use of parables, in which lay hid

That gold, those pearls, and precious stones that were
Worth digging for, and that with greatest care.

Let me add one word more. O man of God,
Art thou offended? Dost thou wish I had

Put forth my matter in another dress?
Or that I had in things been more express?

Three things let me propound; then I submit
To those that are my betters, as is fit.

1. I find not that I am denied the use
Of this my method, so I no abuse

Put on the words, things, readers, or be rude
In handling figure or similitude,

In application; but all that I may
Seek the advance of truth this or that way.

Denied, did I say? Nay, I have leave,
(Example too, and that from them that have

God better pleased, by their words or ways,
Than any man that breatheth now-a-days,)

Thus to express my mind, thus to declare
Things unto thee that excellentest are.

2. I find that men as high as trees will write
Dialogue-wise; yet no man doth them slight

For writing so. Indeed, if they abuse
Truth, cursed be they, and the craft they use

To that intent; but yet let truth be free
To make her sallies upon thee and me,

Which way it pleases God: for who knows how,
Better than he that taught us first to plough,

To guide our minds and pens for his designs?
And he makes base things usher in divine.

3. I find that holy writ, in many places,
Hath semblance with this method, where the cases

Do call for one thing to set forth another:
Use it I may then, and yet nothing smother

Truth's golden beams: nay, by this method may
Make it cast forth its rays as light as day.

And now, before I do put up my pen,
I'll show the profit of my book; and then

Commit both thee and it unto that hand
That pulls the strong down, and makes weak ones stand.

This book it chalketh out before thine eyes
The man that seeks the everlasting prize:

It shows you whence he comes, whither he goes,
What he leaves undone; also what he does:

It also shows you how he runs, and runs,
Till he unto the gate of glory comes.

It shows, too, who set out for life amain,
As if the lasting crown they would obtain;

Here also you may see the reason why
They lose their labor, and like fools do die.

This book will make a traveler of thee,
If by its counsel thou wilt ruled be;

It will direct thee to the Holy Land,
If thou wilt its directions understand

Yea, it will make the slothful active be;
The blind also delightful things to see.

Art thou for something rare and profitable?
Or would'st thou see a truth within a fable?

Art thou forgetful? Wouldest thou remember
From New-Year's day to the last of December?

Then read my fancies; they will stick like burs,
And may be, to the helpless, comforters.

This book is writ in such a dialect
As may the minds of listless men affect:

It seems a novelty, and yet contains
Nothing but sound and honest gospel strains.

Would'st thou divert thyself from melancholy?
Would'st thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly?

Would'st thou read riddles, and their explanation?
Or else be drowned in thy contemplation?

Dost thou love picking meat? Or would'st thou see
A man i' the clouds, and hear him speak to thee?

Would'st thou be in a dream, and yet not sleep?
Or would'st thou in a moment laugh and weep?

Would'st thou lose thyself and catch no harm,
And find thyself again without a charm?

Would'st read thyself, and read thou know'st not what,
And yet know whether thou art blest or not,

By reading the same lines? O then come hither,
And lay my book, thy head, and heart together.

Heaven is a place, also a state,
It doth all things excel,
No man can fully it relate,
Nor of its glory tell.

God made it for his residence,
To sit on as a throne,
Which shows to us the excellence
Whereby it may be known.

Doubtless the fabric that was built
For this so great a king,
Must needs surprise thee, if thou wilt
But duly mind the thing.

If all that build do build to suit
The glory of their state,
What orator, though most acute,
Can fully heaven relate?

If palaces that princes build,
Which yet are made of clay,
Do so amaze when much beheld,
Of heaven what shall we say?

It is the high and holy place;
No moth can there annoy,
Nor make to fade that goodly grace
That saints shall there enjoy.

Mansions for glory and for rest
Do there prepared stand;
Buildings eternal for the blest
Are there provided, and

The glory and the comeliness
By deepest thought none may
With heart or mouth fully express,
Nor can before that day.

These heav'ns we see, be as a scroll,
Or garment folded up,
Before they do together roll,
And we call'd in to sup.

There with the king, the bridegroom, and
By him are led into
His palace chambers, there to stand
With his prospect to our view.

And taste and smell, and be inflam'd,
And ravished to see
The buildings he hath for us fram'd,
How full of heaven they be.

Its state also is marvellous,
For beauty to behold;
All goodness there is plenteous,
And better far than gold.

Adorn'd with grace and righteousness,
While fragrant scents of love
O'erflow with everlasting bliss,
All that do dwell above.

The heavenly majesty, whose face
Doth far exceed the sun,
Will there cast forth its rays of grace
After this world is done.

Which rays and beams will so possess
All things that there shall dwell,
With so much glory, light, and bliss,
That none can think or tell.

That wisdom which doth order all
Shall there be fully shown;
That strength that bears the world there shall
By every one be known.

That holiness and sanctity
Which doth all thought surpass,
Shall there in present purity
Outshine the crystal glass.

The beauty and the comeliness
Of this Almighty shall
Make amiable with lasting bliss
Those he thereto shall call.

The presence of this God will be
Eternal life in all,
And health and gladness, while we see
Thy face, O immortal!

Here will the Lord make clear and plain
How sweetly did agree
His attributes, when Christ was slain
Our Saviour to be.

How wisdom did find out the way,
How strength did make him stand,
How holiness did bear the sway,
And answer just demand.

How all these attributes did bend
Themselves to work our life,
Through the Christ whom God did send
To save us by his might.

All this will sparkle in our eye
Within the holy place,
And greatly raise our melody,
And flow our hearts with grace.

The largest thought that can arise
Within the widest heart
Shall then be filled with surprize,
And pleas'd in every part.

All mysteries shall here be seen,
And every knot, unty'd;
Electing love, that hid hath been,
Shall shine on every side.

The God of glory here will be
The life of every one;
Whose goodly attributes shall we
Possess them as our own.

By wisdom we all things shall know,
By light all things shall see,
By strength, too, all things we shall do,
When we in glory be.

The Holy Lamb of God, also,
Who for our sakes did die,
The holy ones of God shall know,
And that most perfectly.

Those small and short discoveries
That we have of him here,
Will there be seen with open eyes,
In visions full and clear.

Those many thousand acts of grace
That here we feel and find,
Shall there be real with open face
Upon his heart most kind.

There he will show us how he was
Our prophet, priest, and king;
And how he did maintain our cause,
And us to glory bring.

There we shall see how he was touch'd
With all our grief and pain
(As in his word he hath avouch'd),
When we with him shall reign;

He'll show us, also, how he did
Maintain our faith and love,
And why his face sometimes he hid
From us, who are his dove;

These tempting times that here we have,
We there shall see were good;
Also that hidden strength he gave,
The purchase of his blood.

That he should stand for us before
His Father, thus we read.
But then shall see, and shall adore
Him for his gracious deed.

Though we are vile, he without shame
Before the angels all
Lays out his strength, his worth, and name,
For us, who are in thrall.

This is he who was mock'd and beat,
Spit on, and crown'd with thorns;
Who for us had a bloody sweat,
Whose heart was broke with scorns.

'Tis he who stands so much our friend,
As shortly we shall see,
With open face, world without end,
And in his presence be.

That head that once was crown'd with thorns,
Shall now with glory shine;
That heart that broken was with scorns,
Shall flow with life divine;

That man that here met with disgrace,
We there shall see so bright;
That angels can't behold his face
For its exceeding light.

What gladness will possess our heart
When we shall see these things!
What light and life, in every part,
Will rise like lasting springs!

O blessed face and holy grace,
When shall we see this day?
Lord, fetch us to this goodly place
We humbly do thee pray.

Next to this Lamb we shall behold
All saints, both more and less,
With whit'ned robes in glory roll'd,
'Cause him they did confess.

Each walking in his righteousness
With shining crowns of gold,
Triumphing still in heav'nly bliss,
Amazing to behold.

Each person for his majesty
Doth represent a king;
Yea, angel-like for dignity,
And seraphims that sing.

Each motion of their mind, and so
Each twinkling of their eye;
Each word they speak, and step they go,
It is in purity.

Immortal are they every one,
Wrapt up in health and light,
Mortality from them is gone,
Weakness is turn'd to might.

The stars are not so clear as they,
They equalize the sun;
Their glory shines to perfect day,
Which day will ne'er be done.

No sorrow can them now annoy,
Nor weakness, grief or pain;
No faintness can abate their joy,
They now in life do reign.

They shall not there, as here, be vex'd
With Satan, men, or sin;
Nor with their wicked hearts perplex'd,
The heavens have cop'd[8] them in.

Thus, as they shine in their estate,
So, too, in their degree;
Which is most goodly to relate,
And ravishing to see.

The majesty whom they adore,
Doth them in wisdom place
Upon the thrones, and that before
The angels, to their grace.

The saints of the Old Testament,
Full right to their degree;
Likewise the New, in excellent
Magnificency be.

Each one his badge of glory wears,
According to his place;
According as was his affairs
Here, in the time of grace.

Some on the right hand of the Lamb,
Likewise some on the left,
With robes and golden chains do stand
Most grave, most sage, and deft.[9]

The martyr here is known from him
Who peaceably did die,
Both by the place he sitteth in,
And by his dignity.

Each father, saint, and prophet shall,
According to his worth,
Enjoy the honour of his call,
And plainly hold it forth.

Those bodies which sometimes were torn,
And bones that broken were
For God's word; he doth now adorn
With health and glory fair.

Thus, when in heav'nly harmony
These blessed saints appear,
Adorn'd with grace and majesty,
What gladness will be there!

The light, and grace, and countenance,
The least of these shall have,
Will so with terror them advance,
And make their face so grave,

That at them all the world will shake,
When they lift up their head;
Princes and kings will at them quake,
And fall before them dead.

This shall we see, thus shall we be,
O would the day were come,
Lord Jesus take us up to thee,
To this desired home.

Angels also we shall behold,
When we on high ascend,
Each shining like to men of gold,
And on the Lord attend.

These goodly creatures, full of grace,
Shall stand about the throne,
Each one with lightning in his face,
And shall to us be known.

These cherubims with one accord
Shall cry continually,
Ah, holy, holy, holy, Lord,
And heavenly majesty.

These will us in their arms embrace,
And welcome us to rest,
And joy to see us clad with grace,
And of the heavens possess'd.

This we shall hear, this we shall see,
While raptures take us up,
When we with blessed Jesus be,
And at his table sup.

Oh shining angels! what, must we
With you lift up our voice?
We must; and with you ever be,
And with you must rejoice.

Our friends that lived godly here,
Shall there be found again;
The wife, the child, and father dear,
With others of our train.

Each one down to the foot in white,
Fill'd to the brim with grace,
Walking among the saints in light,
With glad and joyful face.

Those God did use us to convert,
We there with joy shall meet,
And jointly shall, with all our heart,
In life each other greet.

A crown to them we then shall be,
A glory and a joy;
And that before the Lord, when he
The world comes to destroy.

This is the place, this is the state,
Of all that fear the Lord;
Which men nor angels may relate
With tongue, or pen, or word.

No night is here, for to eclipse
Its spangling rays so bright;
Nor doubt, nor fear to shut the lips,
Of those within this light.

The strings of music here are tun'd
For heavenly harmony,
And every spirit here perfum'd
With perfect sanctity.

Here runs the crystal streams of life,
Quite through all our veins.
And here by love we do unite
With glory's golden chains.

Now that which sweet'neth all will be
The lasting of this state;
This heightens all we hear or see
To a transcendant rate.

For should the saints enjoy all this
But for a certain time,
O, how would they their mark then miss,
And at this thing repine?

Yea, 'tis not possible that they
Who then shall dwell on high,
Should be content, unless they may
Dwell there eternally.

A thought of parting with this place
Would bitter all their sweet,
And darkness put upon the face
Of all they there do meet.

But far from this the saints shall be,
Their portion is the Lord,
Whose face for ever they shall see,
As saith the holy word.

And that with everlasting peace,
Joy, and felicity,
From this time forth they shall increase
Unto eternity.