L'Accord du Bien.

ORder, by which all things are made,
And this great World's foundation laid,
Is nothing else but Harmony,
Where different parts are brought t'agree.

As Empires are still best maintain'd
Those ways which first their Greatness gain'd:
So in this universal Frame
What made and keeps it is the same.

Thus all things unto peace do tend;
Even Discords have it for their end.
The cause why Elements do fight,
Is but their Instinct to Unite.

Musick could never please the Sense
But by United excellence:
The sweetest Note which Numbers know,
If struck alone, would tedious grow.

Man, the whole World's Epitome,
Is by creation Harmony.
'Twas Sin first quarrel'd in his breast,
Then made him angry with the rest.

But Goodness keeps that Unity,
And loves its own society
So well, that seldom it is known
One real Worth to dwell alone.

And hence it is we Friendship call
Not by one Vertue's name, but all.
Nor is it when bad things agree
Thought Union, but Conspiracy.

Nature and Grace, such enemies
That when one fell t'other did rise,
Are now by Mercy even set,
As Stars in Constellations met.

If Nature were it self a sin,
Her Author (God) had guilty been:
But Man by sin contracting stain,
Shall purg'd from that be clear again.

To prove that Nature's excellent
Even Sin it self's an argument:
Therefore we Nature's stain deplore,
Because it self was pure before.

And Grace destroys not, but refines,
Unveils our Reason, then it shines;
Restores what was deprest by sin,
The fainting beam of God within.

The main spring (Judgment) rectify'd,
Will all the lesser Motions guide,
To spend our Labour, Love and Care,
Not as things seem, but as they are.

'Tis Fancy lest, Wit thrown away,
In trifles to imploy that Ray,
Which then doth in full lustre shine
When both Ingenuous and Divine.

To Eyes by Humours vitiated
All things seem falsly coloured:
So 'tis our prejudicial thought
That makes clear Objects seem in fault.

They scarce believe united good,
By them 'twas never understood:
They think one Grace enough for one,
And 'tis because their selves have none.

We hunt Extremes, and run so fast,
We can no steddy judgment cast:
He best surveys the Circuit round
Who stands i'th' middle of the ground.

That happy mean would let us fee
Knowledge and Meekness may agree;
And find, when each thing hath its name,
Passion and Zele are not the same.

Who studies God doth upwards fly,
And height's still lesser to our eye;
And he that knows God, soon will see
Vast cause for his Humility.

For by that search it will be known
There's nothing but our Will our own:
And whoso doth that stock imploy,
Will find more cause for Shame then Joy.

We know so little and so dark,
And so extinguish our own spark,
That he who furthest here can go,
Knows nothing as he ought to know.

It will with the most Learned sute
More to enquire then dispute:
But Vapours swell within a Cloud,
And Ignorance 'tis makes us proud.

So whom their own vain Heart belies,
Like Inflammations quickly rise:
But that Soul which is truly great
Is lowest in its own conceit.

Yet while we hug our own mistake,
We Censures, but not Judgments, make;
And thence it is we cannot see
Obedience stand with Liberty.

Providence still keeps even state;
But he can best command his Fate,
Whose Art by adding his own Voice.
Makes his Necessity his Choice,

Rightly to rule ones self must be
The hardest, largest Monarchy:
Whose Passions are his Masters grown,
Will be a Captive in a Throne.

He most the inward freedom gains,
Who just Submissions entertains:
For while in that his Reason sways,
It is himself that he obeys.

But onely in Eternity
We can these beauteous Unions see:
For Heaven's self and Glory is
But one harmonious constant Bliss.