THE MANNER OF A SINNER'S DIVORCE FROM THE LAW IN A WORK OF HUMILIATION, AND OF HIS MARRIAGE TO THE LORD JESUS CHRIST; OR, THE WAY HOW A SINNER COMES TO BE A BELIEVER.
OF A LAW-WORK, AND THE WORKINGS OF LEGAL PRIDE UNDER IT.
So proud's the bride, so backwardly dispos'd;
How then shall e'er the happy match be clos'd?
Kind grace the tumults of her heart must quell,
And draw her heav'nward by the gates of hell.
The Bridegroom's Father makes, by 's holy Sp'rit,
His stern command with her stiff conscience meet;
To dash her pride, and show her utmost need,
Pursues for double debt with awful dread.
He makes her former husband's frightful ghost
Appear and damn her, as a bankrupt lost;
With curses, threats, and Sinai thunder-claps
Her lofty tow'r of legal boasting saps.
These humbling storms, in high or low degrees,
Heav'n's Majesty will measure as he please;
But still he makes the fiery law at least
Pronounce its awful sentence in her breast,
Till through the law convict of being lost.
She hopeless to the law gives up the ghost:
Which now in rigor comes full debt to crave
And in close prison cast; but not to save.
For now 'tis weak and can't (through our default)
Its greatest votaries to life exalt.
But well it can command with fire and flame,
And to the lowest pit of ruin damn.
Thus doth it, by commission from above,
Deal with the bride, when Heav'n would court her love.
Lo! now she startles at the Sinai trump,
Which throws her soul into a dismal dump,
Conscious another husband she must have,
Else die forever in destruction's grave.
While in conviction's jail she's thus inclos'd,
Glad news are heard, the royal Mate's propos'd.
And now the scornful bride's inverted stir
Is racking fear, he scorns to match with her.
She dreads his fury, and despairs that he
Will ever wed so vile a wretch as she.
And here the legal humor stirs again
To her prodigious loss, and grievous pain:
For when the Prince presents himself to be
Her husband, then she deems: Ah! is not he
Too fair a match for such a filthy bride?
Unconscious that the thought bewrays her pride,
Ev'n pride of merit, pride of righteousness,
Expecting Heav'n should love her for her dress;
Unmindful how the fall her face did stain,
And made her but a black unlovely swain;
Her whole primeval beauty quite defac'd,
And to the rank of fiends her form debas'd;
Without disfigur'd, and defil'd within,
Uncapable of anything but sin.
Heav'n courts not any for their comely face,
But for the glorious praise of sov'reign grace,
Else ne'er had courted one of Adam's race,
Which all as children of corruption be,
Heirs rightful of immortal misery.
Yet here the bride employs her foolish wit,
For this bright match her ugly form to fit;
To daub her features o'er with legal paint,
That with a grace she may herself present.
Hopeful the Prince with credit might her wed,
If once some comely qualities she had.
In humble pride, her haughty spirit flags;
She cannot think of coming all in rags.
Were she a humble, faithful penitent,
She dreams he 'd then contract with full content:
Base varlet! thinks she 'd be a match for him,
Did she but deck herself in handsome trim.
Ah! foolish thoughts! in legal deeps that plod,
Ah! sorry notions of a sov'reign God!
Will God expose his great, his glorious Son,
For our vile baggage to be sold and won ?
Should sinful modesty the match decline,
Until its garb be brisk and superfine;
Alas! when should we see the marriage-day?
The happy bargain must flee up for ay.
Presumptuous souls in surly modesty,
Half-saviours themselves would fondly be.
Then hopeful th' other half their due will fall,
Disdain to be in Jesus' debt for all.
Vainly the first would wash themselves, and then
Address the fountain to be wash'd more clean;
First heal themselves, and then expect the balm:
Ah! many slightly cure their sudden qualm.
They heal their conscience with a tear or pray'r;
And seek no other Christ, but perish there.
O sinner! search the house, and see the thief
That spoils thy Saviour's crown, thy soul's relief,
The hid, but heinous sin of unbelief.
Who can possess a quality that's good,
Till first he come to Jesus' cleansing blood?
The pow'r that draws the bride, will also show
Unto her by the way her hellish hue,
As void of ev'ry virtue to commend,
And full of ev'ry vice that will offend.
"Till sov'reign grace the sullen bride shall catch,
She'll never fit herself for such a match.
Most qualifi'd they are in heav'n to dwell,
Who see themselves most qualifi'd for hell;
And, ere the bride can drink salvation's cup,
Kind Heav'n must reach to hell and lift her up:
For no decorum e'er about her found
Is she belov'd; but on a nobler ground.
JEHOVAH'S love is like his nature free,
Nor must his creature challenge his decree;
But low at sov'reign grace's footstool creep,
Whose ways are searchless, and whose judgments
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