name is only honourable, and whose works are only glorious; that shewest thy ways to be meek, and takest compassion upon an humble spirit; that hatest the presence of a lofty eye, and destroyest the proud in the imaginations of their hearts; vouchsafe, O Lord, thy gracious ear, and hear the sighing of a contrite heart. I know, O God, the quality of my sin can look for nothing but the extremity of thy wrath. I know, the crookedness of my condition can expect nothing but the furnace of thy indignation. I know the insolence of my corrupted nature can hope for nothing but the execution of thy judgments. Yet, Lord, I know withal, thou art a gracious God, of evil repenting thee, and slow to wrath. I know thy nature and property is to shew compassion; apt to conceive, but readier to forgive. I know thou takest no pleasure in the destruction of a sinner, but rather that he should

repent, and live: in confidence and full assurance whereof, I am here prostrate on my bended knees, and with an humble heart. Nor do I press into thy holy presence trusting in my own merits, lest thou shouldst deal by me as I have dealt by others; but, being encouraged by thy gracious invitation, and heavy laden with the burden of my sins, I come to thee, O God, who art the refuge of a wounded soul, and the sanctuary of a broken spirit. Forgive, O God, forgive me what is past recalling, and make me circumspect for the time to come. Open mine eyes, that I may see how vain a thing I am, and how polluted from my very birth. Give me an insight of my own corruptions, that I may truly know and loath myself. Take from me all vain-glory and selflove, and make me careless of the world's applause. Endue me with an humble heart, and take this haughty

1

spirit from me. Give me a true disco

very

of my own merits, that I may truly fear and tremble at thy judgments. Let not the world's contempt deject me, nor the disrespects of man dismay me. Take from me, O God, a scornful eye, and curb my tongue that speaks presumptuous things. Plant in my heart a brotherly love, and cherish in me a charitable affection. Possess my soul with patience, O God, and establish my heart in the fear of thy name; that, being humbled before thee, in the meekness of my spirit, I may be exalted by thee through the freeness of thy grace, and crowned with thee in the kingdom of thy glory.

86

THE COVETOUS MAN.

His Care.

BELIEVE me, the times are hard and dangerous. Charity is grown cold, and friends uncomfortable. An empty purse is full of sorrow, and hollow bags make a heavy heart. Poverty is a civil pestilence, which frights away both friends and kindred, and leaves us to a 'Lord have mercy upon us.' It is a sickness very catching and infectious, and more commonly abhorred than cured. The best antidote against it is angelico and providence, and the best cordial is aurum potabile. Gold-taking, fasting, is an approved sovereign. Debts are ill humours, and turn at last to dangerous obstructions. Lending is a mere consumption of the radical humour, and, if consumed, brings a patient to nothing,

Let others trust to courtiers' promises, to friends 'performances, to princes' favours; give me a toy called gold, give me a thing called money. O blessed Mammon, how extremely sweet is thy allcommanding presence to my thriving soul! in banishment, thou art my dear companion; in captivity, thou art my precious ransom; in trouble and vexation, thou art my dainty rest; in sickness, thou art my health; in grief, my only joy; in all extremity, my only trust. Virtue must vail to thee; nay, grace itself, not relished with thy sweetness, would even displease the righteous palates of the sons of men. Come then, my soul, advise, contrive, project. Go, compass sea and land; leave no exploit untried, no path untrod, no time unspent; afford thine eyes no sleep, thy head no rest; neglect thy ravenous belly, unclothe thy back; deceive, betray, swear and forswear to compass