The Authors Apology for his Book.
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.
Be not too forward therefore to conclude,
That I want solidness, that I am rude:
All things solid in shew, not solid be;
All things in parables despise not we?
Left 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 Stile, and Phrase puts down all Wit,
Is every where so full of all these things,
(Dark Figures, Allegories?) yet there springs
from that same Book that lustre, and those rayes
Of light, that turns our darkest nights to days.
:Come, let my Carper to his Life now look,
And find There darker lines then 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 then his Lies in Silver Shrines.
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.
Be not too forward therefore to conclude,
That I want solidness, that I am rude:
All things solid in shew, not solid be;
All things in parables despise not we?
Left 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 Stile, and Phrase puts down all Wit,
Is every where so full of all these things,
(Dark Figures, Allegories?) yet there springs
from that same Book that lustre, and those rayes
Of light, that turns our darkest nights to days.
:Come, let my Carper to his Life now look,
And find There darker lines then 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 then his Lies in Silver Shrines.
Come,
