A Short Discourse On Eternity.

What mortal man can with a Span mete out Eternity? Or fathom it by depth of Wit, or strength of Memory? The lofty Sky is not so high, Hell’s depth to this is small; The World so wide is but a stride, comparéd therewithal.

It is a main great Oce-an withouten bank or bound, A deep Abyss, wherein there is no bottom to be found. This World hath stood now since the Flood, four thousand years well near, And had before enduréd more than sixteen hundred year.

But what’s the time from the World’s prime, unto this present day, If we thereby Eternity to measure should essay? The whole duration since the Creation, though long, yet is more little. If placed by Eternity, than is the smallest tittle.

Tell every Star both near and far, in Heav’n’s bright Canopy That doth appear throughout the year of high or low degree: Tell every Tree that thou canst see in this vast Wilderness, Up in the Woods, down by the Floods, in thousand miles Progress:

The sum is vast, yet not so vast but that thou may’st go on To multiply the leaves thereby, that hang those Trees upon: Add thereunto the Drops that thou imaginest to be In April Show’rs, that bring forth Flow’rs and blossoms plenteously:

Number the Fowls and living Souls that through the Air do fly, The wingéd Hosts in all their Coasts beneath the starry Sky: Count all the Grass as thou dost pass through many a pasture-land, And dewy Drops that on the tops of Herbs and Plants do stand:

Number the Sand upon the Strand, and atoms of the Air; And do thy best on Man and Beast, to reckon every Hair: Take all the Dust, if so thou lust, and add to thine Account: Yet shall the Years of Sinners’ tears, the Number far surmount.

Naught join’d to naught can ne’er make aught, nor Cyphers make a Sum; Nor things finite, to infinite by multiplying come: A Cockle-shell may serve as well to lade the Ocean dry As finite things and reckonings to bound Eternity.

Oh happy they that live for aye, with Christ in Heav’n above! Who know withal that nothing shall deprive them of his love. Eternity, Eternity! Oh! were it not for thee, The Saints in bliss and happiness could never happy be.

For if they were in any fear that this their joy might cease, It would annoy (if not destroy) and interrupt their peace. But being sure it shall endure so long as God shall live; The thoughts of this, unto their bliss, do full perfection give.

Cheer up ye Saints amidst your wants and sorrows many a one; Lift up the head, shake off all dread, and moderate your moan. Your sufferings and evil things will suddenly be past; Your sweet Fruitions and blessed Visions, for evermore shall last.

Lament and mourn you that must burn amidst those flaming Seas: If once you come to such a doom, for ever farewell ease. O sad estate and desperate, that never can be mended, Until God’s Will shall change, or till Eternity be ended!

If any one this Questi-on shall unto me propound: What! have the years of Sinners’ tears no limits or no bound? It kills our heart to think of smart, and pains that last for ever; And hear of fire that shall expire, or be extinguish’d never,

I’ll answer make (and let them take my words as I intend them; For this is all the Cordi-al that here I have to lend them:) When Heav’n shall cease to flow with peace and all felicity. Then Hell may cease to be the place of Woe and Misery.

When Heav’n is Hell, when Ill is Well, when Virtue turns to Vice; When Wrong is Right, when Dark is Light, when Naught is of great price; Then may the years of Sinners’ tears and sufferings expire. And all the Hosts of damnéd Ghosts escape out of Hell-fire.

When Christ above shall cease to love, when God shall cease to reign And be no more as heretofore the World’s great Sovéreign; Or not be just, or favor lust, or in Men’s sins delight; Then wicked men (and not till then) to Heav’n may take their flight.

When God’s great Power shall be brought lower, by foreign Puissance, Or be decay’d and weaker made through Time’s continuance; When drowsiness shall him oppress, and lay him fast asleep, Then sinful men may break their pen, and out of Prison creep.

When those in Glory shall be right sorry they may not change their place, And wish to dwell with those in Hell, never to see Christ’s face; Then those in pain may freedom gain and be with Glory dight: Then Hellish fiends may be Christ’s Friends, and Heirs of Heaven hight.

Then, ah! poor men! What! not till then? No, not an hour before; For God is just, and therefore must torment them evermore. Eternity! Eternity! thou mak’st hard hearts to bleed: The thoughts of thee in misery, do make men wail indeed.

When they remind what’s still behind and ponder this word NEVER, That they must there be made to bear God’s Vengéance for EVER: The thought of this more bitter is than all they feel beside; Yet what they feel, nor heart of steel, nor flesh of brass can bide.

To lie in woe and undergo the direful pains of Hell, And know withal, that there they shall for aye and ever dwell; And that they are from rest as far when fifty thousand year, Twice told, are spent in punishment, as when they first came there;

This, oh! this makes Hell’s fiery flakes much more intolerable; This makes frail wights and damnéd sprites to bear their plagues unable. This makes men bite, for fell despite, their very tongues in twain; This makes them roar for great horror, and trebleth all their pain.