N00104:212
Meat out of the eater
Meat out of the eater: or, Meditations concerning the necessity, end, and usefulness of afflictions unto Gods children. All tending to prepare them, for, and comfort them under the cross. / By Michael Wigglesworth.Meat out of the eater: or, Meditations concerning the necessity, end, and usefulness of afflictions unto Gods children. All tending to prepare them, for, and comfort them under the crosse. / By Michael Wigglesworth.
printed by S.G. Samuel Green for John Usher of Boston, 1670
Title page typeset from the transcription.
Modern spelling is a reading aid: the words are the author’s, only the spelling is modernized. Original shows the page as printed, with the transcription marks.
Consc. [1] 'Tis not Affliction barely That doth my Soul distress: But rather multitude of sins1 And mine own wickedness. Nor is it former faults That now are brought to mind, So much, as swarms of present sins And hateful Lusts I find. [2] Had ever any one So vile a heart as mine? So barren under all God's pains Nurture and discipline? The Saints of God have found Affliction to sever Their Souls from sin; but I find mine More boisterous now then ever. ⟨p. 66⟩[3] 2This makes me greatly fear And question mine estate; Lest I be nothing else but dross 3And silver reprobate, That is not purified By passing through the fire, Fit to be trampled under foot And trodden in the mire.
Consc. [1] 'TIs not Affliction barely That doth my Soul distress: But rather multitude of sins1 And mine own wickedness. Nor is it former faults That now are brought to minde, So much, as swarms of present sins And hateful Lusts I finde. [2] Had ever any one So vile a heart as mine? So barren under all God's pains Nurture and discipline? The Saints of God have found Affliction to sever Their Souls from sin; but I finde mine More boisterous now then ever. ⟨p. 66⟩[3] 2This makes me greatly fear And question mine estate; Lest I be nothing else but dross 3And silver reprobate, That is not purify'd By passing through the fire, Fit to be trampled under foot And troden in the mire.
- 1Psal. 38.3▪4.