winged Vowes Makes haste to meet her morning Spouse And close with his immortal kisses Happy Soul who never misses To improve that precious hour And every day Seize her sweet Prey All fresh and fragrant as he rises Dropping with a Balmy showr A delicious dew of Spices O let that happy Soul hold fast Her Heavenly Armful she shall taste At once ten thousand Paradises She shall have power To Rifle and Deflower The rich and roseal Spring of those rare sweets Which with a swelling Bosome there she meets Boundless and infinite bottomless Treasures Of pure inebriating pleasures Happy soul she shall discover What joy what bliss How many Heavens at once it is To have a God become her Lover On Mr G. Herbert's Book entituled The Temple of Sacred Poems sent to a Gentlewoman KNow you Fair on what you look Divinest Love lies in this Book Expecting Fire from your Eyes To kindle this his Sacrifice When your Hands unty these strings Think you 've an Angel by the wings One that gladly will be nigh To wait upon each morning sigh To flutter in the balmy Air Of your well perfumed Prayer These white Plumes of his Hee 'l lend you Which every day to Heaven will send you To take acquaintance of the Sphear And all the smooth-fac'd kindred there And though Herberts Name do owe These Devotions fairest know That while I lay them on the shrine Of your white Hand they are mine A Hymn to the Name and Honour of the Admirable Saint TERESA Foundress of the Reformation of the Discalced Carmelites both Men and Women a Woman for Angelical heighth of speculation for Masculine courage of performance more then a Woman who yet a Child out ran Maturity and durst plot a Martyrdom LOve thou art absolute sole Lord Of Life and Death To prove the Word â—…e need to go to none of all â—…hose thy old soldiers stout and tall â—…ipe and full grown that could reach down â—…ith strong Arms their Triumphant Crown â—…ch as could with lusty breath â—…eak loud unto the face of Death â—…eir great Lords glorious Name to none â—…f those whose large Brests built a Throne â—…r Love their Lord glorious and great â—…e'll see him take a private seat â—…nd make his Mansion in the milde â—…d milky Soul of a soft Child Scarce had she learnt to Lisp a name Of Martyr yet she thinks it shame Life should so long play with that Breath Which spent can buy so brave a Death 〈◊〉 never undertook to know â—…at Death with â—…ove should have to doe Nor hath she e'r yet understood Why to show Love she should shed Blood Yet though she cannot tell you why She can Love and she can Dye Scarce had she Blood enough to make A guilty Sword blush for her sake Yet has she a heart dares hope to prove How much less strong is Death then Love Be love but there let poor six years Be pos'd with the maturest Fears Man trembles at we straight shall find Love knows no nonage nor the Mind 'T is Love not Years or Limbs that can Make the Martyr or the Man Love toucht her Heart and loe it beats High and burns with such brave heats Such thirst to die as dare drink up A thousand cold Deaths in one Cup Good reason for she breaths all fire Her weak Brest heaves with strong desire Of what she may with fruitless wishes Seek for amongst her Mothers Kisses Since 't is not to be had at home She 'll travel to a Martyrdome No home for her confesses she But where she may a Martyr be She 'll to the Moors and Trade with them For this unvalued Diadem She offers them her dearest Breath With Christs name in 't in change for Death She 'll bargain with them and will give Them God and teach them how to live In him or if they this denie For him she 'll teach them how to die So shall she leave amongst them sown Her Lords Blood or at least her own Farewel then all the World adieu Teresa is no more for you Farewel all pleasures sports and joyes Never till now esteemed toyes Farewell whatever dear may be Mothers Arms or Fathers Knee Farewel House and Farewel Home She 's for the Moors and Martyrdome Sweet not so fast Loe thy fair Spouse Whom thou seek'st with so swift vows Calls thee back and bids thee come T' embrace a milder Martyrdome Blest pow'rs forbid thy tender life Should bleed upon a barbarous knife Or some base hand have power to rase Thy Brests chaste Cabinet and uncase A Soul kept there so sweet O no Wise Heaven will never have it so Thou art Love's victim and must dye A death more mystical and high Into Loves hand thou shalt let fall A still surviving Funeral He is the Dart must make the death Whose stroke wall taste thy hallowed Breath A Dart thrice dipt in that rich flame Which writes thy Spouses radiant name Upon the roof of Heaven where ay It shines and with a Soveraign ray Beats bright upon the burning faces Of souls which in that names sweet graces Find everlasting smiles so Rare So Spiritual Pure and Fair Must be the immortal instrument Upon whose choice point shall be spent A life so lov'd and that there be Fit Executioners for thee The fairest and the first-born Loves of fire Blest Seraphims shall leave their Quire And turn Loves soldiers upon thee To exercise their Archery O how oft shalt thou complain Of a sweet and subtile pain Of intollerable joyes Of a death in which who dies Loves his death and dies again And would for ever so be slain And lives and dies and knows not why To live but that he still may dye How kindly will thy gentle Heart Kisse the sweetly killing Dart And close in his Embraces keep Those delicious wounds that weep Balsome to heal themselves with thus When these thy Deaths so numerous Shall all at once dye into one And melt thy souls sweet Mansion Like a soft Lump of Incense hasted By too hot a fire and wasted Into perfuming Clouds So fast Shalt thou exhale to Heaven at last In a dissolving sigh and then O what ask not the Tongues of men Angels cannot tell suffice Thy self shalt feel thine own full joyes And hold them fast for ever there So soon as thou shalt first appear The Moon of Maiden Stars thy white Mistress attended by such bright Souls as thy shining self shall come And in her first ranks make thee room Where 'mongst her snowy Family Immortal welcomes wait on thee O what delight when she shall stand And teach thy Lips Heaven with her hand On which thou now may'st to thy wishes Heap up thy consecrated Kisses What joy shall seize thy Soul when she â—…ending her Blessed Eyes on thee Those second smiles of Heaven shall dart Her mild Rays through thy melting heart Angels thy old friends there shall greet thee Glad at their own home now to meet thee All thy good Works
And prove how light the World was when it weigh'd with Him Wide maist thou spred Thine Arms and with thy bright and blisful head O'r look all Libanus Thy lofty crown The King himself is thou his humble Throne Where yielding and yet conquering he Prov'd a new path of patient victory When wondring death by death was slain And our Captivity his Captive ta'ne The Versicle Lo we adore thee Dread Lamb and bow thus low before thee The Responsor Cause by the covenant of thy Cross Thou hast sav'd the World from certain loss The Prayer O My Lord Jesu Christ son of the living c. COMPLINE The Versicle Lord by thy sweet and saving Sign The Responsor Defend us from our foes and thine Ver. Thou shalt open my lips O Lord. Res. And my mouth shall declare thy praise Ver. O God make speed to save me Res. O Lord make haste to help me Ver. Glory be to c. Res. As it was in c. The HYMN THe Compline hour comes last to call Us to our own Live's funeral Ah hartless task yet hope takes head And lives in him that here lies dead Run Mary run bring hither all the Blest Arabia for thy Royal Phenix ' nest Pour on thy Noblest sweets which when they touch This sweeter Body shall indeed be such But must thy bed Lord be a borrow'd Grave Who lendst to all things all the life they have O rather use this Heart thus far a fitter Stone 'Cause though a hard and cold one yet it is thine own Amen The Antiphon O save us then Merciful King of men Since thou wouldst needs be thus A Saviour and at such a rate for us Save us O save us Lord. We now will own no shorter wish nor name a narrower word Thy blood bids us be bold Thy wounds give us fair hold Thy sorrows chide our shame â—…hy Cross thy Nature and thy Name Advance our claim And cry with one accord Save them O save them Lord. The Versicle Lo we adore thee Dread Lamb and bow thus low before thee The Responsor 'Cause by the covenant of thy Cross Thou hast sav'd the world from certain loss The Prayer O My Lord Jesu Christ Son of c. The RECOMMENDATION THese Hours and that which hovers o'r my end Into thy Hands and Heart Lord I commend Take both to thine account that I and mine In that hour and in these may be all thine That as I dedicate my devoutest Breath To make a kind of Life for my Lords Death So from his living and life-giving Death My dying Life may draw a new and never-fleeting Breath VEXILLA REGIS The Hymn of the Holy Cross. 1. LOok up languishing soul Lo where the fair Badge of thy Faith calls back thy care And bids thee ne'r forget Thy Life is one long Debt Of Love to Him who on this painful Tree Paid back the Flesh he took for thee 2. Lo how the streams of Life from that full Nest Of Loves thy Lord 's too liberal Brest Flow in an amorous Floud Of Water wedding Bloud With these he wash't thy stain transfer'd thy smart And took it home to his own heart 3. But though great Love greedy of such sad gain Usurp't the portion of thy pain And from the Nails and Spear Turn'd the steel point of Fear Their use is chang'd not lost and now they move Not stings of Wrath but wounds of Love 4. Tall Tree of Life thy Truth makes good What was till now ne'r understood Though the prophetick King Struck loud his faithful string It was thy wood he meant should make the Throne For a more then Salomon 5. Large throne of Love Royally spred With purple of too rich a Red. Thy crime is too much duty Thy burthen too much Beauty Glorious or grievous more thus to make good Thy costly Excellence with thy Kings own Blood 6. Even ballance of both Worlds our World of sin And that of Grace Heav'n weigh'd in Him Us with our price thou weighedst Our price for us thou payedst Soon as the right-hand scale rejoyc't to prove How much Death weigh'd more light then Love 7. Hail our alone Hope let thy fair Head shoot Aloft and fill the Nations with thy Noble fruit The while our hearts and we Thus graft our selves on thee Grow thou and they and be thy fair increase The sinner's pardon and the just man's peace Live O for ever Live and Reign The Lamb whom his own Love has slain And let thy lost sheep live t' inherit That Kingdom which this Cross did merit Amen Charitas Nimia Or the dear Bargain LOrd what is Man why should he cost thee So dear what had his ruine lost thee Lord what is Man that thou hast over-bought So much a thing of nought Love is too kind I see and can Make but a simple Merchant man 'T was for such sorry Merchandise Bold Painters have put out his Eyes Alas sweet Lord what wer 't to thee If there were no such Worms as we Heav'n ne'rtheless still Heav'n would be Should Mankind dwell In the deep Hell What have his Woes to do with thee Let him go weep O'r his own wounds Seraphims will not sleep Nor Sphears let fall their fatihful rounds Still would the youthful Spirits sing And still thy spacious Palace ring Still would those beauteous Ministers of Light Burn all as bright And bow their flaming heads before thee Still Thrones and Dominations would adore thee Still would those ever-wakeful sons of fire Keep warm thy praise Both nights and days And teach thy lov'd name to their Noble Lyre Let froward Dust then do its kind And give it self for sport to the proud wind Why should a piece of peevish Clay plead shares In the Eternity of thy old cares Why shouldst thou bow thy awful Brest to see What mine own madnesses have done with me Should not the King still keep his Throne Because some desperate Fool 's undone Or will the World 's illustrious Eyes Weep for every Worm that dies Will the gallant Sun E'r the less Glorious run Will he hang down his Golden head Or e'r the sooner seek his Western bed Because some foolish Fly Grows wanton and will dye If I were lost in misery What was it to thy Heav'n and thee What was it to thy precious blood If my soul Heart call'd for a floud What if my faithless soul and I Would needs fall in With guilt and sin What did the Lamb that he should dye What did the Lamb that he should need When the Wolf sins himself to bleed If my base Lust Bargain'd with Death and well-beseeming Dust Why should the white Lamb's bosome write The purple name Of my sin's shame Why should his unstain'd Brest make good My blushes with his own heart-blood O my Saviour make me see How dearly thou hast paid for me That lost again my Life may prove As then in Death so now in Love Sancta Maria dolorum Or the Mother of sorrows
Bliss On whose Pastures cheerful Spring All the year doth sit and Sing And rejoycing smiles to see Their Green Backs wear his Livery Pleasure sings my Soul to rest Plenty wears me at her Brest Whose sweet Temper teaches me Nor wanton nor in want to be At my Feet the blub'ring Mountain Weeping melts into a Fountain Whose soft silver-sweating Streams Make high Noon forget his Beams When my waiward Breath is flying He calls home my soul from dying Strokes and tames my rabid Grief And does woo me into life When my simple weakness strays Tangled in forbidden ways He my Shepheard is my guide He 's before me on my side And behind me he beguiles Craft in all her knotty wiles He expounds the giddy wonder Of my weary steps and under Spreads a Path clear as the Day Where no churlish rub says nay To my joy-conducted Feet Whilst they gladly go to meet Grace and Peace to meet new laies Tun'd to my great Sheapheards praise Come now all ye Terrors Sally Muster forth into the Valley Where Triumphant darkness hovers With a sable Wing that covers Brooding Horror Come thou Death Let the damps of thy dull Breath Overshadow even the shade And make darkness self-afraid There my Feet even there shall find Way for a resolved mind Still my Shepheard still my God Thou art with me Still thy Rod And thy Staff whose influence Gives direction gives defence At the whisper of thy Word Crown'd abundance spreads my Board While I Feast my Foes do feed Their rank Malice not their Need So that with the self-same Bread They are Starv'd and I am Fed. How my Head in Ointment swims How my Cup o're-looks her brims So even so still may I move By the Line of thy dear Love Still may thy sweet Mercy spread 〈◊〉 shady Arm above my Head About my Paths so shall I find The fair Center of my mind Thy Temple and those Lovely walls Bright ever with a Beam that falls Fresh from the pure glance of thine Eye Lighting to Eternity There I 'le dwell for ever there Will I find a purer Air. To feed my Life with there I 'le sup Balme and Nectar in my Cup And thence my ripe Soul will I breath Warm into the Arms of Death Psalm 137. ON the proud Banks of great Euphrates Flood There we sate and there we wept Our Harps that now no Musick understood Nodding on the Willows slept While unhappy captiv'd we Lovely Sion thought on thee They they that snatcht us from our Countreys Bresâ—… Would have a Song carv'd to their Ears In Hebrew numbers then O cruel Jest When Harps and Hearts were drown'd in Tears Come they cry'd come Sing and Play One of Sions Songs to day Sing Play to whom ah shall we Sing or Play If not Jerusalem to thee Ah thee Jerusalem ah sooner may This Hand forget the Mastery Of Musicks dainty touch then I The Musick of thy Memory Which when I lose O may at once my Tongue Lose this same busie speaking Art Unpearcht her vocal Arteries unstrung No more acquainted with my Heart On my dry Pallats roof to rest A wither'd Leaf an idle Guest No no thy good Sion alone must Crown The head of all my hope-nurst Joyes But Edom cruel thou thou cry'dst down down Sink Sion down and never rise Her falling thou didst urge and thrust And haste to dash her into Dust. Dost laugh proud Babels Daughter do laugh on Till thy ruine teach thee Tears Even such as these laugh till a venging throng Of woes too late doe rouze thy fears Laugh till thy Childrens bleeding Bones Weep precious Tears upon the stones Quem vidistis Pastores c. A Hymn of the Nativity sung by the Shepheards Chorus COme we Shepheards who have seen Days King deposed by Nights Queen Come lift we up our lofty Song To wake the Sun that sleeps too long He in this ouâ—… general Joy Slept and Dreamt of no such thing While we found out the fair-ey'd Boy And kist the Cradle of our King Tell him he rises now too late To shew us ought worth looking at Tell him we now can shew him more Then he e'r shew'd to Mortal sight Then he himself e'r saw before Which to be seen needs not his Light Tell him Tityrus where th' hast been Tell him Thyrsis what th' hast seen Tityrus Gloomy Night embrac't the place Where the Noble Infant lay The Babe lookt up and shew'd his Face In spight of Darkness it was Day It was thy Day Sweet and did rise Not from the East but from thy Eyes Thyrsis Winter chid the World and sent The angry North to wage his Wars The North forgot his fierce intent And left Perfumes instead of Scars By those sweet Eyes persuasive Powers Where he meant Frosts he scattered Flowers Bâ—…th We saw thee in thy Balmy-Nest Bright Dawn of our Eternal Day We saw thine Eyes break from the East And chase the trembling Shades away We saw thee and we blest the sight We saw thee by thine own sweet Light Tityrus I saw the curl'd Drops soft and slow Come hovering o'r the places head Offring their whitest sheets of Snow To furnish the fair Infants Bed Forbear said I be not too bold Your Fleece is white but 't is too cold Thyrsis I saw th' Officious Angels bring The Down that their soft Brests did strow For well they now can spare their Wings When Heaven it self lies here below Fair Youth said I be not too rough Your Down though soft's not soft enough Tityrus The Babe no sooner 'gan to seek Where to lay his Lovely Head But streight his Eyes advis'd his Cheek 'Twixt Mothers Brests to goe to Bed Sweet choise said I no way but so Not to lie cold yet sleep in Snow All. Welcome to our wondring sight Eternity shut in a Span Summer in Winter Day in Night Chorus Heaven in Earth and God in Man Great little one whose Glorious Birth Lifts Earth to Heaven stoops Heaven to Earth Welcome though not to Gold nor Silk To more then Cesar's Birth-right is Two Sister-Seas of Virgins Milk With many a rarely-temper'd Kiss That Breaths at once both Maid and Mother Warms in the one cools in the other She sings thy Tears asleep and dips Her Kisses in thy weeping Eye She spreads the red Leaves of thy Lips That in their Buds yet Blushing lye She 'gainst those Mother Diamonds tryes The points of her young Eagles Eyes Welcome though not to those gay Flies Gilded i' th' Beams of Earthly Kings Slippery Souls in smiling Eyes But to poor Shepheards simple things That use no Varnish no oyl'd Arts But life clean Hands full of cleer Hearts Yet when young Aprils Husband Showers Shall Bless the fruitful Maiâ—…'s Bed We 'll bring the first-born of her Flowers To Kiss thy Feet and Crown thy Head To thee Dread Lamb whose Love must keep The Shepheards while they feed their Sheep To thee meek Majesty soft King Of simple Graces and sweet Loves Each
Execution But chiefly there do's she delight to be Where Hells capacious Cauldron is set on And while the black souls boil in their own gore To hold them down and look that none seeth o're 38. Thrice howl'd the Caves of Night and thrice the sound Thundring upon the Banks of those black Lakes Rung through the hollow vaults of Hell profound At last her listning Ears the noise o'rtakes She lifts her sooty Lamps and looking round A gen'ral hiss from the whole Tire of Snakes Rebounding through Hells inmost Caverns came In answer to her formidable Name 39. 'Mongst all the Palaces in Hells Command No one so merciless as this of hers The Adamantine Doors for ever stand Impenetrable both to Pray'rs and Tears The Walls inexorable Steel no hand Of Time or Teeth of hungry Ruine fears Their ugly Ornaments are the bloody stains Of ragged Limbs torn Sculls and dasht out Brains 40. There has the Purple Vengeance a proud seat Whose ever-brandisht Sword is sheath'd in blood About her Hate Wrath Warre and Slaughter sweaâ—… Bathing their hot Limbs in Life's precious Flood There rude impetuous Rage do's storm and fret And there as Master of this murd'ring brood Swinging a huge Sith stands impartial Death With endless business almost out of Breath 41. For Hangings and for Curtains all along The Walls abominable Ornaments Are Tools of Wrath Anvils of Torments hung Fell Executioners of foul intents Nails Hammers Hatchets sharp and Halters strong Swords Spears with all the fatal instruments Of Sin and Death twice dipt in the direstains Of Brothers mutual Blood and Fathers Brains 42. The Tables furnisht with a cursed Feast Which Harpyes with lean Famine feed upon Uufill'd for ever Here among the rest â—…nhumane Erisicthon too makes one Tantalus Atreus Progne here are Guests Wolvish Lycaon here a place hath won The Cup they drink in is Medusa's Scull Which mixt with Gall and Blood they quaff brim full 43. The foul Queen's most abhorred Maids of Honour Medaea Jezabel many a meagre Witch With Circe Scylla stand to wait upon her But her best Huswives are the Parcae which Still work for her and have their Wages from her They prick a bleeding Heart at every stitch Her cruel Clothes of costly Threds they Weave Which short-cut Lives of murdered infants Leave 44. The House is hers'd about with a black Wood Which nods with many a heavy headed Tree Each Flower 's a Pregnant poyson try'd and good Each Herb a Plague The Winds sighs timed be By a black Fount which weeps into a Flood Through the thick shades obscurely might you see Minotaures Cyclopses with a dark drove Of Dragons Hydraes Sphinxes fill the Grove 45. Here Diomed's Horses Phereus Dogs appear With the fierce Lyons of Therodamas Busiris ha's his bloody Altar here Here Sylla his severest prison has The Lestrigonians here their Table rear Here strong Procrustes plants his Bed of Brass Here cruel Scyron boasts his bloody Rocks And hateful Schinas his so feared Oaks 46. What ever Schemes of Blood fantastick frames Of Death Mezentius or Geryon drew Phalaris Ochus Ezelinus names Mighty in Mischief with dread Nero too Here are they all here all the Swords or Flames Assyrian Tyrants or Egyptian knew Such was the House so furnisht was the Hall Whence the fourth Fury answer'd Pluto's call 47. Scarce to this Monster could the shady King The horrid summe of his intentions tell But she swift as the momentary wing Of Lightning or the words he spoke left Hell â—…he rose and with her to our World did bring Pale proof of her fell presence th' Air too well With a chang'd Countenance witness'd the Fight And poor Fowls intercepted in their Flight 48. Heav'n saw her rise and saw Hell in the sight The Fields fair Eyes saw her and saw no more But shut their flowry Lids for ever Night And Winter strow her way yea such a sore Is she to Nature that a general fright An universal Palsie spreading o're The face of things from her dire Eyes had run Had not her thick Snakes hid them from the Sun 49. Now had the Nights Companion from her Den Where all the busie day she close doth lye With her soft wing wip't from the brows of men Day 's sweat and by a gentle Tyranny And sweet oppression kindly cheating them Of all their Cares tam'd the rebellious Eye Of sorrow with asoft and Downy hand Sealing all Brests ina Lethaean band 50. When the Erynâ—…s her black Pineons spread And came to Bethlem where the cruel King Had now retir'd himself and borrowed His Brest a while from care 's unquiet sting Such as at Thebes dire Feast she shew'd her head Her Sulphur-breathed Torches brandishing Such to the frighted Palace now she comes And with soft feet searches the silent Rooms 51. By Herod now was born The Scepter which of old great David swaid Whose Right by David's linage so long worn Himself a stranger to his own had made And from the head of Judahs house quite torn The Crown for which upon their necks he laid A sad yoak under which they sigh'd in vain And looking on their lost state sigh'd again 52. Up through the spacious Palace passed she To where the Kings proudly-reposed head If any can be soft to Tyranny And self-tormenting sin had a soft bed She thinks not fit such he her face should see As it is seen by Hell and seen with dread To change her face's stile she doth devise And in a pale Ghost's shape to spare his Eyes 53. Her self a while she lays aside and makes Ready to personate a mortal part Joseph the King 's dead Brother's shape she takes What he by Nature was is she by Art She comes to th' King and with her cold hand slakes His Spirits the sparks of Life and chills his Heart Lifes forge fain'd is her voice and false too be Her words Sleep'st thou fond man Sleep'st thou said she 54. So sleeps a Pilot whose poor Bark is prest With many a mercyless o'r-mastring Wave For whom as dead the wrathful Winds contest Which of them deep'st shall dig her watry Grave Why dost thou let thy brave soul lie supprest In Death-like slumbers while thy dangers crave A waking Eye and Hand look up and see The Fates ripe in their great Conspiracy 55. Know'st thou not how of th' Hebrew 's Royal stemme That old dry stock a despair'd Branch is sprung A most strange Babe 〈◊〉 who here conceal'd by them In a neglected Stable lies among Beasts and base Straw already is the stream Quite turn'd th' ingrateful Rebels this their young Master with voice free as the Trump of Fame Their new King and thy Successor proclaim 56. What busie Motions what wild Engines stand On tiptoe in their giddy Brains th' have fire Already in their Bosomes and their hand Already reaches at a sword they hire Poysons to speed thee yet through all the Land What one comes to reveal what they conspire Go now make much of
a Pathetical descant upon the devout Plainsong of Stabat Mater dolorosa 1. IN shade of Deaths sad Tree Stood doleful she Ah she now by no other Name to be known alas but Sorrow's Mother Before her Eyes Her 's and the whole World's joyes Hanging all torn she sees and in his woes And Pains her pangs and throes Each wound of his from every part All more at home in her own heart 2. What kind of Marble than Is that cold man Who can look on and see Nor keep such Noble sorrows company Sure even from you My Flints some drops are due To see so many unkind swords contest So fast for one soft Brest While with a faithful mutual floud Her Eyes bleed Tears his wounds weep blood 3. O costly intercourse Of deaths and worse Divided Loves while Son and Mother Discourse alternate wounds to one another Quick Deaths that grow And gather as they come and go His Nails write swords in her which soon her heart Pays back with more then their own smart Her swords still growing with his pain Turn Spears and straight come home again 4. She sees her Son her God Bow with a load Of borrow'd sins and swim In woes that were not made for him Ah hard Command Of Love Here must she stand Charg'd to look on and with a stedfast Eye See her life dye Leaving her only so much Breath As serves to keep alive her death 5. O Mother Turtle-dove Soft sourse of Love That these dry Lids might borrow Somthing from thy full seas of Sorrow O in that Brest Of thine the noblest Nest Both of Love's Fires and Flouds might I recline This hard cold Heart of mine The chil lump would relent and prove Soft Subject for the siege of Love 6. O teach those wounds to bleed In me me so to read This Book of Loves thus writ In lines of death my life may copy it With Loyal cares O let me here claim shares Yield something in thy sad prerogative Great Queen of griefs and give Me to my Tears who though all stone Think much that thou shouldst mourn alone 7. Yea let my life and me Fix here with thee And at the Humble Foot Of this fair Tree take our Eternal Root That so we may At least be in Loves way And in these chaste wars while the wing'd wounds flee So fast 'twixt him and thee My Brest may catch the kiss of some kind Dart Though as at second hand from either Heart 8. O you your own best Darts Dear doleful hearts Hail and strike home and make me see That wounded bosomes their own weapons be Come Wounds come Darts Nail'd hands and pierced hearts Come your whole selves Sorrow's great Son and Mother Nor grudge a younger Brother Of grief 's his portion who had all their due One single wound should not have left for you 9. Shall I set there So deep a share Dear wounds and onely now In sorrows draw no dividend with you O be more wife If not more soft mine Eyes Flow tardy Founts and into decent showrs Dissolve my Days and Hours And if thou yet faint soul defer To bleed with him fail not to weep with her 10. Rich Queen lend some relief At least an alms of Grief To ' a heart who by sad right of sin Could prove the whole sum too sure due to him By all those stings Of Love sweet bitter things Which these torn hands transcrib'd on thy true Heart O teach mine too the Art To study him so till we mix Wounds and become one Crucifix 11. O let me suck the Wine So long of this chaste Vine Till drunk of the dear wounds I be A lost thing to the World as it to me O faithful friend Of me and of my end Fold up my life in Love and lay 't beneath My dear Lord's vital death Lo heart thy hopes whole Plea her precious breath Powr'd out in Prayers for thee thy Lord 's in death The Hymn of St. Thomas in Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament WIth all the pow'rs my poor Heart hath Of humble Love and Loyal Faith Thus low my hidden life I bow to thee Whom too much Love hath bow'd more low for me Down down proud sense discourses dye Keep close my soul 's inquiring Eye Nor touch nor taste must look for more But each sit still in his own door Your Ports are all superfluous here Save that which lets in Faith the Ear. Faith is my skill Faith can believe As fast as Love new Laws can give Faith is my force Faith strength affords To keep pace with those pow'rful words And words more sure more sweet then they Love could not think truth could not say O let thy wretch find that relief Thou didst afford the faithful Thief Plead for me Love Alledge and show That Faith has farther here to go And less to lean on because than Though hid as God wounds writ thee Man Thomas might touch none but might see At least the suffring side of thee And that too was thy self which thee did cover But here ev n that 's hid too which hides the other Sweet consider then that I Though allow'd not Hand nor Eye To teach at thy lov'd Face nor can Taste thee God or touch thee Man Both yet believe and witness thee My Lord too and my God as loud as he Help Lord my Hope increase And till my portion in thy peace Give Love for Life nor let my days Grow but in new pow'rs to name thy Praise O dear memorial of that Death Which lives still and allows us Breath Rich Royal Food Bountiful Bread Whose use denies us to the Dead Whose vital gust alone can give The same leave both to Eat and Live Live ever Bread of Loves and be My Life my Soul my surer self to me O soft self-wounding Pelican Whose Brest weeps Balm for wounded Man Ah this way bend thy benign Houd To a bleeding Heart that gâ—…spes for Blood That Blood whose least drops soveraign be To wash my Worlds of sine from me Come Love Come Lord and that long day For which I languish come away When this dry soul those Eyes shall see And drink the unseal'd sourse of thee When Glory 's Sun Faith's shade shall chase Then for thy veil give me thy Face Amen Thè Hymn for the Blessed Sacrament Lauda Sion Salvatorem 1. RIse Royal Sion rise and sing Thy Soul 's kind Shepheard thy Hearts King Stretch all thy powers call if you can Harps of Heav'n to hands of man This Soveraign subject sits above The best ambition of thy Love 2. Lo the Bread of Life this day 's Triumphant Text. provokes thy praise The living and life-giving Bread To the Great Twelve distributed When Life himself at point to dy Of Love was his own Legacy 3. Come Love and let us work a Song Loud and pleasant sweet and long Let Lips and Hearts lift high the noise Of so just and solemn joys Which on his white brows this