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For fpiritual gifts and offerings,
Which Heaven to present him brings ;
And still, the further 'tis from sense,
Believes it is the more refin'd,
And ought to be receiv'd with greater reverence.




But, as all tricks whose principles
Are false, prove false in all things else,
The dull and heavy hypocrite

Is but in pension with his conscience,
That pays him for maintaining it
With zealous rage and impudence ;
And, as the one grows obftinate,
So does the other rich and fat;
Disposes of his gifts and dispensations
Like fpiritual foundations
Endow'd to pious uses, and design'd
To entertain the weak, the lame, and blind;
But still diverts them to as bad, or worse,

55 Than others are by unjust governors : For, like our modern publicans, He still puts out all dues. He owes to Heaven to the devil to use, And makes his godly interest great gains ; Takes all the Brethren (to recruit The spirit in him) contribute, And, to repair and edify his spent And broken-winded outward man, present For painful holding-forth against the government. 65

IV. The


The subtle spider never spins,
But on dark days, his simy gins ;
Nor does our engineer much care to plant
His fpiritual machines
Unless among the weak and ignorant,

Th’inconstant, credulous, and light,
The vain, the factious, and the night,
That in their zeal are most extravagant ;
For trouts are tickled best in muddy water :
And still, the muddier he finds their brains, 75
The more he 's sought and follow'd after,
And greater ministrations gains
For talking idly is admir'd,
And speaking nonsense held inspir’d;
And still, the flatter and more dull

80 His gifts appear, is held more powerful : For blocks are better cleft with wedges, Than tools of Tharp and subtle edges ; And dullest nonsense has been found, By some, to be the solid'st and the most profound. 85

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A great Apostle once was said
With too much learning to be mad;
But our great Saint becomes distract,
And only with too little crackt;
Cries moral truths and human learning down,
And will endure no reason but his own :







For 'tis a drudgery and task
Not for a Saint, but Pagan oracle,
To answer all men can object or alk;
But to be found impregnable,

And with a sturdy forehead to hold out,
In spite of shame or reason resolute,
Is braver than to argue and confute :
As he that can draw blood, they say,
From witches, takes their magic power away,
So he that draws blood int' a Brother's face,
Takes all his gifts away, and light, and grace :
For, while he holds that nothing is so damn'd
And shameful as to be asham'd,
He never can b' attack'd,
But will come off; for Confidence, well back'd,
Among the weak and prepoffefs'd,
Has often Truth, with all her kingly power, oppress’d.

It is the nature of late zeal,
'Twill not be subject, nor rebel,
Nor left at large, nor be restrain'd,
But where there 's something to be gain d;
And, that being once reveal'd, defies
The law, with all its penalties,
And is convinc'd no pale
O'th' church can be so sacred as a jail :
For, as the Indians' prisons are their mines,
So he has found are all restraints
To thriving and free-conscienc'd Saints;
For the fame thing enriches that confines ;





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And like to Lully, when he was in hold,
He turns his bafer metals into gold;
Receives returning and retiring fees
For holding forth, and holding of his peace,
And takes a pension to be advocate
And standing counsel 'gainst the church and state
For gall’d and tender consciences;
Commits himself to prison to trepan,
Draw in, and spirit all he can ;
For birds in cages have a call,
To draw the wildest into nets,
More prevalent and natural
Than all our artificial pipes and counterfeits.

His Nippery conscience has more tricks
Than all the juggling empirics,
And every one another contradi&ts ;
All laws of heaven and earth can break,
And swallow oaths, and blood, and rapine easy,
And yet is so infirm and weak,
'Twill not endure the gentlest check,
But at the flightest nicety grows queafy;
Disdains control, and yet can be
No where, but in a prison, free ;
Can force itself, in spite of God,
Who makes it free as thought at home,
A save and villain to become,
To serve its interests abroad :
And, though no Pharisee was e’er so cunning
At tithing mint and cummin,



145 No dull idolater was e'er fo flat

150 In things of deep and solid weight; Pretends to charity and holiness, But is implacable to peace, And out of tenderness grows obstinate. And, though the zeal of God's house ate a prince 155 And prophet up (he says) long since, His cross-grain'd peremptory zeal Would eat up God's house, and devour it at a meal,

VIII. He does not pray, but prosecute, As if he went to law, his suit;

160 Summons his Maker to appear And answer what he shall prefer; Returns him back his gift of prayer, Not to petition, but declare ; Exhibits cross complaints

165 Against him for the breach of Covenants, And all the charters of the Saints ; Pleads guilty to the action, and yet stands Upon high terms and bold demands; Excepts against him and his laws,

170 And will be judge himself in his own cause ; And grows more faucy and severe Than th' Heathen emperor was to Jupiter, That us’d to wrangle with him and dispute, And sometimes would speak softly in his ear,

175 And sometimes loud, and rant, and tear, And threaten, if he did not grant his suit.

IX. But

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