put together a solemnitie And drest his herse while he has breath As yet to spare Yet Lord instruct us so to die That all these dyings may be life in death Decay SWeet were the dayes when thou didst lodge with Loâ— Struggle with Jacob fit with Gideon Advise with Abraham when thy power could not Encounter Moses strong complaints and mone Thy words were then Let me alone One might have sought and found thee presently At some fair oak or bush or cave or well Is my God this way No they would reply He is to Sinai gone as we heard tell List ye may heare great Aarons bell But now thou dost thy self immure and close In some one corner of a feeble heart Where yet both Sinne and Satan thy old foes Do pinch and straiten thee and use much art To gain thy thirds and little part I see the world grows old when as the heat Of thy great love once spread as in an urn Doth closet up it self and still retreat Cold sinne still forcing it till it return And calling Justice all things burn ¶ Miserie LOrd let the Angels praise thy name Man is a foolish thing a foolish thing Folly and Sinne play all his game His house still burns and yet he still doth sing Man is but grasse He knows it fill the glasse How canst thou brook his foolishnesse Why he 'l not lose a cup of drink for thee Bid him but temper his excesse Not he he knows where he can better be As he will swear Then to serve thee in fear What strange pollutions doth he wed And make his own as if none knew but he No man shall beat into his head That thou within his curtains drawn canst see They are of cloth Where never yet came moth The best of men turn but thy hand â—or one poore minute stumble at a pinne They would not have their actions scann'd Nor any sorrow tell them that they sinne Though it be small And measure not their fall They quarrell thee and would give over The bargain made to serve thee but thy love Holds them unto it and doth cover Their follies with the wing of thy milde Dove Not suff'ring those Who would to be thy foes My God Man cannot praise thy name Thou art all brightnesse perfect puritie The sunne holds down his head for shame Dead with eclipses when we speak of thee How shall infection Presume on thy perfection As dirtie hands foul all they touch And those things most which are most pure and fine So our clay hearts ev'n when we crouch To sing thy praises make them lesse divine Yet either this Or none thy portion is Man cannot serve thee let him go And serve the swine there there is his delight He doth not like this vertue no Give him his dirt to wallow in all night These Preachers make His head to shoot and ake Oh foolish man where are thine eyes How hast thou lost them in a croud of eares Thou pull'st the rug and wilt not rise No not to purchase the whole pack of starres There let them shine Thou must go sleep or dine The bird that sees a daintie bowre Made in the tree where she was wont to sit Wonders and sings but not his power Who made the arbour this exceeds her wit But Man doth know The spring whence all things flow And yet as though he knew it not His knowledge winks and lets his humours reigne They make his life a constant blot And all the bloud of God to run in vain Ah wretch what verse Can thy strange wayes rehearse Indeed at first Man was a treasure A box of jewels shop of rarities A ring whose posie was My pleasure He was a garden in a Paradise Glorie and grace Did crown his heart and face But sinne hath fool'd him Now he is A lump of flesh without a foot or wing To raise him to the glimpse of blisse A sick toss'd vessel dasâ—â—ng on each thing Nay his own shelf My God I mean my self ¶ Jordan WHen first my lines of heav'nly joyes made mention Such was their lustre they did so excell â—hat I sought out quaint words and trim invention â—y thoughts began to burnish sprout and swell â—urling with metaphors a plain intention â—ecking the sense as if it were to sell. Thousands of notions in my brain did runne Off'ring their service if I were not sped 〈◊〉 often blotted what I had begunne This was not quick enough and that was dead Nothing could seem too rich to clothe the sunne â—â—uch lesse those joyes which trample on his head As flames do work and winde when they ascend So did I weave my self into the sense But while I bustled I might heare a friend Whisper How wide is all this long pretence There is in love a sweetnesse readie penn'd Copie out onely that and save expense ¶ Prayer OF what an easie quick accesse My blessed Lord art thou how suddenly May our requests thine eare invade To shew that state dislikes not easinesse If I but lift mine eyes my suit is made Thou canst no more not heare then thou canst die Of what supreme almightie power Is thy great arm which spans the east and west And tacks the centre to the sphere By it do all things live their measur'd houre We cannot ask the thing which is not there Blaming the shallownesse of our request Of what unmeasurable love Art thou possest who when thou couldst not die Wert fain to take our flesh and curse And for our sakes in person sinne reprove That by destroying that which ty'd thy purse Thou mightst make way for liberalitie Since then these three wait on thy throne Ease Power and Love I value prayer so That were I to leave all but one Wealth fame endowments vertues all should go I and deare prayer would together dwell And quickly gain for each inch lost an ell ¶ Obedience MY God if writings may Convey a Lordship any way Whither the buyer and the seller please Let it not thee displease If this poore paper do as much as they On it my heart doth bleed As many lines as there doth need To passe it self and all it hath to thee To which I do agree And here present it as my speciall deed If that hereafter Pleasure Cavill and claim her part and measure As if this passed with a reservation Or some such words in fashion I here exclude the wrangler from thy treasure O let thy sacred will All thy delight in me fulfill Let me not think an action mine own way But as thy love shall sway Resigning up the rudder to thy skill Lord what is man to thee That thou shouldst minde a rotten tree Yet since thou canst not choose but see my actions So great are thy perfections Thou mayst as well my actions guide as see Besides thy death and bloud Show'd a strange love to all our good Thy sorrows were in earnest no faint proffer Or superficiall offer Of what we might not
Yet when the houre of thy designe To answer these fine things shall come Speak not at large say I am thine And then they have their answer home ¶ Vanitie POore silly soul whose hope and head lies low Whose flat delights on earth do creep and grow To whom the starres shine not so fair as eyes Nor solid work as false embroyderies Heark and beware lest what you now do measure And write for sweet prove a most sowre displeasure O heare betimes lest thy relenting May come too late To purchase heaven for repenting Is no hard rate If souls be made of earthly mold Let them love gold If born on high Let them unto their kindred flie For they can never be at rest Till they regain their ancient nest Then silly soul take heed for earthly joy Is but a bubble and makes thee a boy ¶ The Dawning AWake sad heart whom sorrow ever drowns Take up thine eyes which feed on earth Unfold thy forehead gather'd into frowns Thy Saviour comes and with him mirth Awake awake And with a thankfull heart his comforts take But thou dost still lament and pine and crie And feel his death but not his victorie Arise sad heart if thou dost not withstand Christs resurrection thine may be Do not by hanging down break from the hand Which as it riseth raiseth thee Arise arise And with his buriall-linen drie thine eyes Christ left his grave-clothes that we might when grief Draws tears or bloud not want an handkerchief ¶ JESU JESU is in my heart his sacred name Is deeply carved there but th' other week A great affliction broke the little frame Ev'n all to pieces which I went to seek And first I found the corner where was I After where ES and next where V was graved When I had got these parcels instantly I sat me down to spell them and perceived That to my broken heart he was I ease you And to my whole is IESV ¶ Businesse CAnst be idle canst thou play Foolish soul who sinn'd to day Rivers run and springs each one Know their home and get them gone Hast thou tears or hast thou none If poore soul thou hast no tears Would thou hadst no faults or fears Who hath these those ill forbears Windes still work it is their plot Be the season cold or hot Hast thou sighs or hast thou not If thou hast no sighs or grones Would thou hadst no flesh and bones Lesser pains scape greater ones But if yet thou idle be Foolish soul Who di'd for thee Who did leave his Fathers throne To assume thy flesh and bone Had he life or had he none If he had not liv'd for thee Thou hadst di'd most wretchedly And two deaths had been thy fee. He so farre thy good did plot That his own self he forgot Did he die or did he not If he had not di'd for thee Thou hadst liv'd in miserie Two lives worse then ten deaths be And hath any space of breath 'Twixt his sinnes and Saviours death He that loseth gold though drosse Tells to all he meets his crosse He that sinnes hath he no losse He that findes a silver vein Thinks on it and thinks again Brings thy Saviours death no gain Who in heart not ever kneels Neither sinne nor Saviour feels ¶ Dialogue SWeetest Saviour if my soul Were but worth the having Quickly should I then controll Any thought of waving But when all my care and pains Cannot give the name of gains To thy wretch so full of stains What delight or hope remains What childe is the ballance thine Thine the poise and measure If I say Thou shalt be mine Finger not my treasure What the gains in having thee Do amount to onely he Who for man was sold can see That transferr'd th' accounts to me But as I can see no merit Leading to this favour So the way to fit me for it Is beyond my savour As the reason then is thine So the way is none of mine I disclaim the whole designe Sinne disclaims and I resigne That is all if that I could Get without repining And my clay my creature would Follow my resigning That as I did freely part With my glorie and desert Left all joyes to feel all smart Ah! no more thou break'st my heart ¶ Dulnesse WHy do I languish thus drooping and dull As if I were all earth O give me quicknesse that I may with mirth Praise thee brim-full The wanton lover in a curious strain Can praise his fairest fair And with quaint metaphors her curled hair Curl o're again Thou art my lovelinesse my life my light Beautie alone to me Thy bloudy death and undeserv'd makes thee Pure red and white When all perfections as but one appeare That those thy form doth show The very dust where thou dost tread and go Makes beauties here Where are my lines then my approaches views Where are my window-songs Lovers are still pretending ev'n wrongs Sharpen their Muse But I am lost in flesh whose sugred lyes Still mock me and grow bold Sure thou didst put a minde there if I could Finde where it lies Lord cleare thy gift that with a constant wit I may but look towards thee Look onely for to love thee who can be What angel fit ¶ Love-joy AS on a window late I cast mine eye I saw a vine drop grapes with I and C Anneal'd on every bunch One standing by Ask'd what it meant I who am never loth To spend my iudgement said It seem'd to me To be the bodie and the letters both Of Ioy and Charitie Sir you have not miss'd The man reply'd It figures IESVS CHRIST ¶ Providence O Sacred Providence who from end to end Strongly and sweetly movest shall I write And not of thee through whom my fingers bend To hold my quill shall they not do thee right Of all the creatures both in sea and land Onely to Man thou hast made known thy wayes And put the penne alone into his hand And made him Secretarie of thy praise Beasts fain would sing birds dittie to their notes Trees would be tuning on their native lute To thy renown but all their hands and throats Are brought to Man while they are lame and mute Man is the worlds high Priest he doth present The sacrifice for all while they below Unto the service mutter an assent Such as springs use that fall and windes that blow He that to praise and laud thee doth refrain Doth not refrain unto himself alone But robs a thousand who would praise thee fain And doth commit a world of sinne in one The beasts say Eat me but if beasts must teach The tongue is yours to eat but mine to praise The trees say Pull me but the hand you stretch Is mine to write as it is yours to raise Wherefore most sacred Spirit I here present For me and all my fellows praise to thee And just it is that I should pay the rent Because the benefit accrues to me We all
bitter crosse Was ever grief c. 〈◊〉 crosse I bear my self untill I faint â—â—en Simon bears it for me by constraint â—â—e decreed burden of each mortall Saint Was ever grief c. 〈◊〉 all ye who passe by behold and see â—â—n stole the fruiâ— but I must climbe the tree The tree of life to all but onely me Was ever grief c. 〈◊〉 here I hang charg'd with a world of sinne â—â—e greater world o' th' two for that came in 〈◊〉 words but this by sorrow I must win Was ever grief c. Such sorrow as if sinfull man could feel 〈◊〉 feel his part he would not cease to kneel â—â—ll all were melted though he were all steel Was ever grief c. â—â—â—t O my God my God! why leav'st thou me The sonne in whom thou dost delight to be â—â—y God my God Never was grief like mine â—â—â—me tears my soul my bodie many a wound â—â—arp nails pierce this but sharper that confound â—eproches which are free while I am bound Was ever grief c. Now heal thy self Physician now come down Alas I did so when I left my crown And fathers smile for you to feel his frown Was ever grief like mine In healing not my self there doth consist All that salvation which ye now resist Your safetie in my sicknesse doth subsist Was ever grief c. Betwixt two theeves I spend my utmost breath As he that for some robberie suffereth Alas what have I stollen from you death Was ever grief c. A king my title is prefixt on high Yet by my subjects am condemn'd to die A servile death in servile companie Was ever grief c. They gave me vineger mingled with gall But more with malice yet when they did call With Manna Angels food I fed them all Was ever grief c. They part my garments and by lot dispose My coat the type of love which once cur'd those Who sought for help never malicious foes Was ever grief c. Nay after death their spite shall further go For they will pierce my side I full well know That as sinne came so Sacraments might flow Was ever grief c. But now I die now all is finished My wo mans weal and now I bow my head Onely let others say when I am dead Never was grief like mine ¶ The Thanksgiving OH King of grief a title strange yet true To thee of all kings onely due Oh King of wounds how shall I grieve for thee Who in all grief preventest me Shall I weep bloud why thou hast wept such store That all thy body was one doore Shall I be scourged flouted boxed sold 'T is but to tell the tale is told My God my God why dost thou part from me Was such a grief as cannot be Shall I then sing skipping thy dolefull storie And side with thy triumphant glorie Shall thy strokes be my stroking thorns my flowerâ— Thy rod my posie crosse my bower But how then shall I imitate thee and Copie thy fair though bloudie hand Stâ—â—dy I will reuenge me on thy love And trie who shall victorious prove If thou dost give me wealth I will restore All back unto thee by the poore If thou dost give me honour men shall see The honour doth belong to thee I will not marry or if she be mine She and her children shall be thine My bosome friend if he blaspheme thy name I will tear thence his love and fame One half of me being gone the rest I give Unto some Chappell die or live Aâ— for thy passion But of that anon When with the other I have done 〈◊〉 thy predestination I 'le contrive That three yeares hence if I survive I 'le build a spittle or mend common wayes But mend mine own without delayes Then I will use the works of thy creation As if I us'd them but for fashion The world and I will quarrell and the yeare Shall not perceive that I am here My musick shall finde thee and ev'ry string Shall have his attribute to sing That all together may accord in thee And prove one God one harmonie If thou shalt give me wit it shall appeare If thou hast giv'n it me 't is here Nay I will reade thy book and never move Till I have found therein thy love Thy art of love which I 'le turn back on thee O my deare Saviour Victorie Then for thy passion I will do for that Alas my God I know not what ¶ The Reprisall I Have consider'd it and finde There is no dealing with thy mighty passion For though I die for thee I am behinde My sinnes deserve the condemnation O make me innocent that I May give a disentangled state and free And yet thy wounds still my attempts defie For by thy death I die for thee Ah! was it not enough that thou By thy eternall glorie didst outgo me Couldst thou not griefs sad conquests me allow But in all vict'ries overthrow me Yet by confession will I come â—â—to the conquest Though I can do nought â—gainst thee in thee I will overcome The man who once against thee fought ¶ The Agonie PHilosophers have measur'd mountains â—â—thom'd the depths of seas of states and kings Walk'd with a staffe to heav'n and traced fountains But there are two vast spacious things The which to measure it doth more behove â—et few there are that sound them Sinne and Love Who would know Sinne let him repair â—nto mount Olivet there shall he see â— man so wrung with pains that all his hair His skinne his garments bloudie be â—nne is that presse and vice which forceth pain â—o hunt his cruell food through ev'ry vein Who knows not Love let him assay â—nd taste that juice which on the crosse a pike â—nd set again abroach then let him say If ever he did taste the like â—ove is that liquour sweet and most divine Which my God feels as bloud but I as wine ¶ The Sinner LOrd how I am all ague when I seek What I have treasur'd in my memorie Since if my soul make even with the week Each seventh note by right is due to thee I finde there quarries of pil'd vanities But shreds of holinesse that dare not venture To shew their face since crosse to thy decrees There the circumference earth is heav'n the centre In so much dregs the quintessence is small The spirit and good extract of my heart Comes to about the many hundredth part Yet Lord restore thine image heare my call And though my hard heart scarce to thee can grone Remember that thou once didst write in stone ¶ Good Friday O My chief good How shall I measure out thy bloud How shall I count what thee befell And each grief tell Shall I thy woes Number according to thy foes Or since one starre show'd thy first breath Shall all thy death Or shall each leaf Which falls in Autumne score a grief Or cannot leaves but fruit be signe Of the true vine Then let each
Oh that I were an Orenge-tree That busie plant â—hen should I ever laden be And never want Some fruit for him that dressed me But we are still too young or old The man is gone Before we do our wares unfold So we freeze on Untill the grave increase our cold ¶ Deniall WHen my devotions could not pierce Thy silent eares Then was my heart broken as was my verse My breast was full of fears And disorder My bent thoughts like a brittle bow Did flie asunder Each took his way some would to pleasures go Some to the warres and thunder Of alarms As good go any where they say As to benumme Both knees and heart in crying night and day Come come my God O come But no hearing O that thou shouldst give dust a tongue To crie to thee And then not heare it crying all day long My heart was in my knee But no hearing Therefore my soul lay out of sight Untun'd unstrung My feeble spirit unable to look right Like a nipt blossome hung Discontented O cheer and tune my heartlesse breast Deferre no time That so thy favours granting my request They and my minde may chime And mend my ryme ¶ Christmas ALl after pleasures as I rid one day My horse and I both tir'd bodie and minde With full crie of affections quite astray I took up in the next inne I could finde â—ere when I came whom found I but my deare My dearest Lord expecting till the grief Of pleasures brought me to him readie there â—â—e all passengers most sweet relief Thou whose glorious yet contracted light Wrapt in nights mantle stole into a manger Since my dark soul and brutish is thy right Man of all beasts be not thou a stranger Furnish deck my soul that thou mayst have A better lodging then a rack or grave THe shepherds sing and shall I silent be My God no hymne for thee â—y soul 's a shepherd too a flock it feeds Of thoughts and words and deeds The pasture is thy word the streams thy grace Enriching all the place Shepherd and flock shall sing and all my powers Out-sing the day-light houres Then we will chide the sunne for letting night Take up his place and right We sing one common Lord wherefore he should Himself the candle hold â— will go searching till I finde a sunne Shall stay till we have done A willing shiner that shall shine as gladly As frost-nipt sunnes look sadly Then we will sing and shine all our own day And one another pay His beams shall cheer my breast and both so twine Till ev'n his beams sing and my musick shine ¶ Ungratefulnesse LOrd with what bountie and rare clemencie Hast thou redeem'd us from the grave If thou hadst let us runne Gladly had man ador'd the sunne And thought his god most brave Where now we shall be better gods then he Thou hast but two rare cabinets full of treasure The Trinitie and Incarnation Thou hast unlockt them both And made them jewels to betroth The work of thy creation Unto thy self in everlasting pleasure The statelier cabinet is the Trinitie Whose sparkling light accesse denies Therefore thou dost not show This fully to us till death blow The dust into our eyes For by that powder thou wilt make us see But all thy sweets are packt up in the other Thy mercies thither flock and flow That as the first affrights This may allure us with delights Because this box we know For we have all of us just such another But man is close reserv'd and dark to thee When thou demandest but a heart He cavils instantly In his poore cabinet of bone Sinnes have their box apart Defrauding thee who gavest two for one ¶ Sighs and Grones O Do not use me After my sinnes look not on my desert But on thy glorie then thou wilt reform And not refuse me for thou onely art The mightie God but I a sillie worm O do not bruise me O do not urge me For what account can thy ill steward make I have abus'd thy stock destroy'd thy woods Suckt all thy magazens my head did ake Till it found out how to consume thy goods O do not scourge me O do not blinde me I have deserv'd that an Egyptian night Should thicken all my powers because my lust Hath still sow'd fig-leaves to exclude thy light But I am frailtie and already dust O do not grinde me O do not fill me With the turn'd viall of thy bitter wrath For thou hast other vessels full of bloud A part whereof my Saviour empti'd hath Ev'n unto death since he di'd for my good O do not kill me But O reprieve me For thou hast life and death at thy command Thou art both Iudge and Saviour feast and rod Cordiall and Corrosive put not thy hand Into the bitter box but O my God My God relieve me ¶ The World LOve built a stately house where Fortune came And spinning phansies she was heard to say That her fine cobwebs did support the frame Whereas they were supported by the same But Wisdome quickly swept them all away Then Pleasure came who liking not the fashion Began to make Balcones Terraces Till she had weakned all by alteration But rev'rend laws and many a proclamation Reformed all at length with menaces Then enter'd Sinne and with that Sycomore Whose leaves first sheltred man from drought dew Working and winding slily evermore The inward walls and Sommers cleft and tore But Grace shor'd these and cut that as it grew Then Sinne combin'd with Death in a firm band To rase the building to the very floore Which they effected none could them withstand But Love and Grace took Glorie by the hand And built a braver Palace then before Coloss. 3.3 Our life is hid with Christ in God MY words thoughts do both expresse this notion That Life hath with the sun a double motion The first Is straight and our diurnall friend The other Hid and doth obliquely bend One life is wrapt In flesh and tends to earth The other winds towards Him whose happie birth Taught me to live here so That still one eye Should aim and shoot at that which Is on high Quitting with daily labour all My pleasure To gain at harvest an eternall Treasure ¶ Vanitie THe fleet Astronomer can bore And thred the spheres with his quick-piercing minde He views their stations walks from doore to doore Surveys as if he had design'd To make a purchase there he sees their dances And knoweth long before Both their full-ey'd aspects and secret glances The nimble Diver with his side Cuts through the working waves that he may fetch His dearely-earned pearl which God did hide On purpose from the ventrous wretch That he might save his life and also hers Who with excessive pride Her own destruction and his danger wears The subtil Chymick can devest And strip the creature naked till he finde The callow principles within their nest There he imparts to them his
grace Then let wrath remove Love will do the deed For with love Stonie hearts will bleed Love is swift of foot Love's a man of warre And can shoot And can hit from farre Who can scape his bow That which wrought on thee Brought thee low Needs must work on me Throw away thy red Though man frailties hath Thou art God Throw away thy wrath ¶ The Invitation COme ye hither all whose taste Is your waste Save your cost and mend your fare God is here prepar'd and drest And the feast God in whom all dainties are Come ye hither all whom wine Doth define Naming you not to your good Weep what ye have drunk amisse And drink this Which before ye drink is bloud Come ye hither all whom pain Doth arraigne Bringing all your sinnes to sight Taste and fear not God is here In this cheer And on sinne doth cast the fright Come ye hither all whom joy Doth destroy While ye graze without your bounds Here is joy that drowneth quite Your delight As a floud the lower grounds Come ye hither all whose love Is your dove And exalts you to the skie Here is love which having breath Ev'n in death After death can never die Lord I have invited all And I shall Still invite still call to thee For it seems but just and right In my sight Where is all there all should be ¶ The Banquet WElcome sweet and sacred cheer Welcome deare With me in me live and dwell For thy neatnesse passeth sight Thy delight Passeth tongue to taste or tell O what sweetnesse from the bowl Fills my soul Such as is and makes divine Is some starre fled from the sphere Melted there As we sugar melt in wine Or hath sweetnesse in the bread Made a head To subdue the smell of sinne Flowers and gummes and powders giving All their living Lest the enemie should winne Doubtlesse neither starre nor flower Hath the power Such a sweetnesse to impart Onely God who gives perfumes Flesh assumes And with it perfumes my heart But as Pomanders and wood Still are good Yet being bruis'd are better sented God to show how farre his love Could improve Here as broken is presented When I had forgot my birth And on earth In delights of earth was drown'd God took bloud and needs would be Spilt with me And so found me on the ground Having rais'd me to look up In a cup Sweetly he doth meet my taste But I still being low and short Farre from court Wine becomes a wing at last For with it alone I flie To the skie Where I wipe mine eyes and see What I seek for what I sue Him I view Who hath done so much for me Let the wonder of this pitie Be my dittie And take up my lines and life Hearken under pain of death Hands and breath Strive in this and love the strife ¶ The Posie LEt wits contest And with their words and posies windows fill Lesse then the least Of all thy mercies is my posie still This on my ring This by my picture in my book I write Whether I sing Or say or dictate this is my delight Invention rest Comparisons go play wit use thy will Lesse then the least Of all Gods mercies is my posie still ¶ A Parodie SOuls joy when thou art gone And I alone Which cannot be Because thou dost abide with me And I depend on thee Yet when thou dost suppresse The cheerfulnesse Of thy abode And in my powers not stirre abroad But leave me to my load O what a damp and shade Doth me invade No stormie night Can so afflict or so affright As thy eclipsed light Ah Lord do not withdraw Lest want of aw Make Sinne appeare And when thou dost but shine lesse cleare Say that thou art not here And then what life I have While Sinne doth rave And falsly boast That I may seek but thou art lost Thou and alone thou know'st O what a deadly cold Doth me infold I half beleeve That Sinne sayes true but while I grieve Thou com'st and dost relieve ¶ The Elixer TEach me my God and King In all things thee to see And what I do in any thing To do it as for thee Not rudely as a beast To runne into an action But still to make thee prepossest And give it his perfection A man that looks on glasse On it may stay his eye Or if he pleaseth through it passe And then the heav'n espie All may of thee partake Nothing can be so mean Which with his tincture for thy sake Will not grow bright and clean A servant with this clause Makes drudgerie divine Who sweeps a room as for thy laws Makes that and th' action fine This is the famous stone That turneth all to gold For that which God doth touch and own Cannot for lesse be told ¶ A Wreath A Wreathed garland of deserved praise Of praise deserved unto thee I give I give to thee who knowest all my wayes My crooked winding wayes wherein I live Wherein I die not live for life is straight Straight as a line and ever tends to thee To thee who art more farre above deceit Then deceit seems above simplicitie Give me simplicitie that I may live So live and like that I may know thy wayes Know them and practise them then shall I give For this poore wreath give thee a crown of praise ¶ Death DEath thou wast once an uncouth hideous thing Nothing but bones The sad effect of sadder grones Thy mouth was open but thou couldst not sing For we consider'd thee as at some six Or ten yeares hence After the losse of life and sense Flesh being turn'd to dust and bones to sticks We lookt on this side of thee shooting short Where we did finde The shells of fledge souls left behinde Dry dust which sheds no tears but may extort But since our Saviours death did put some bloud Into thy face Thou art grown fair and full of grace Much in request much sought for as a good For we do now behold thee gay and glad As at dooms-day When souls shall wear their new aray And all thy bones with beautie shall be clad Therefore we can go die as sleep and trust Half that we have Unto an honest faithfull grave Making our pillows either down or dust ¶ Dooms-day COme away Make no delay Summon all the dust to rise Till it stirre and rubbe the eyes While this member jogs the other Each one whispring Live you brother Come away Make this the day Dust alas no musick feels But thy trumpet then it kneels As peculiar notes and strains Cure Tarantulaes raging pains Come away O make no stay Let the graves make their confession Lest at length they plead possession Fleshes stubbornnesse may have Read that lesson to the grave Come away Thy flock doth stray Some to windes their bodie lend And in them may drown a friend Some in noisome vapours grow To a plague and publick wo. Come away Help our decay
temper'd with a sinners tears â—Balsome are for both the Hemispheres â—â—ring all wounds but mine all but my fears Was ever grief c. Yet my Disciples sleep I cannot gain One houre of watching but their drowsie brain Comforts not me and doth my doctrine stain Was ever grief like 〈◊〉 Arise arise they come Look how they runne Alas what haste they make to be undone How with their lanterns do they seek the sunne Was ever grief c. With clubs and staves they seek me as a thief Who am the way of truth the true relief Most true to those who are my greatest grief Was ever grief c. Iudas dost thou betray me with a kisse Canst thou finde hell about my lips and misse Of life just at the gates of life and blisse Was ever grief c. See they lay hold on me not with the hands Of faith but furie yet at their commands I suffer binding who have loos'd their bands Was ever grief c. All my Disciples flie fear puts a barre Betwixt my friends and me They leave the starre That brought the wise men of the East from farre Was ever grief c. Then from one ruler to another bound They leade me urging that it was not sound What I taught Comments would the text confouâ— Was ever grief c. The Priest and rulers all false witnesse seek 'Gainst him who seeks not life but is the meek And readie Paschal Lambe of this great week Was ever grief c. 〈◊〉 they accuse me of great blasphemie 〈◊〉 I did thrust into the Deitie 〈◊〉 never thought that any robberie Was ever grief like mine 〈◊〉 said that I the Temple to the floore 〈◊〉 three dayes raz'd and raised as before 〈◊〉 he that built the world can do much more Was ever grief c. Then they condemne me all with that same breath Which I do give them daily unto death Thus Adam my first breathing rendereth Was ever grief c. They binde and leade me unto Herod he Sends me to Pilate This makes them agree But yet their friendship is my enmitie Was ever grief c. Herod and all his bands do set me light Who teach all hands to warre fingers to fight And onely am the Lord of hosts and might Was ever grief c. Herod in judgement sits while I do stand 〈◊〉 mines me with a censorious hand 〈◊〉 m obey who all things else command Was ever grief c. Tâ—e Iews accuse me with despitefulnesse Aâ—d vying malice with my gentlenesse 〈◊〉 k quarrels with their onely happinesse Was ever grief c. I answer nothing but with patience prove â—â—stonie hearts will melt with gentle love 〈◊〉 t who does hawk at eagles with a dove Was ever grief c. My silence rather doth augment their crie My dove doth back into my bosome flie Because the raging waters still are high Was ever grief like 〈◊〉 Heark how they crie aloud still Crucifie It is not fit he live a day they crie Who cannot live lesse then eternally Was ever grief c. Pilate a stranger holdeth off but they Mine own deare people cry Away away With noises confused frighting the day Was ever grief c. Yet still they shout and crie and stop their eares Putting my life among their sinnes and fears And therefore wish my bloud on them and theirs Was ever grief c. See how spite cankers things These words aright Used and wished are the whole worlds light But hony is their gall brightnesse their night Was ever grief c. They choose a murderer and all agree In him to do themselves a courtesie For it was their own cause who killed me Was ever grief c. And a seditious murderer he was But I the Prince of peace peace that doth passe All understanding more then heav'n doth glasse Was ever grief c. Why Cesar is their onely King not I He clave the stonie rock when they were drie But surely not their hearts as I well trie Was ever grief c. 〈◊〉 ow they scourge me yet my tendernesse 〈◊〉 les each lash and yet their bitternesse 〈◊〉 es up my grief to a mysteriousnesse Was ever grief like mine They buffet me and box me as they list Who grasp the earth and heaven with my fist And never yet whom I would punish miss'd Was ever grief c. Behâ—ld they spit on me in scornfull wise Who by my spittle gave the blinde man eies Leâ—â—ing his blindnesse to mine enemies Was ever grief c. My face they cover though it be divine 〈◊〉 Moses face was vailed so is mine Lest on their double-dark souls either shine Was ever grief c. Serâ—â—nts and abjects flout me they are wittie 〈◊〉 prophesie who strikes thee is their dittie So they in me denie themselves all pitie Was ever grief c. And now I am deliver'd unto death Which each one cals for so with utmost breath That he before me well nigh suffereth Was ever grief c. Wâ—â—p not deare friends since I for both have wept Wâ—en all my tears were bloud the while you slept Yâ—â—r tears for your own fortunes should be kept Was ever grief c. The souldiers lead me to the common hall Tâ—ere they deride me they abuse me all 〈◊〉 for twelve heav'nly legions I could call Was ever grief c. Then with a scarlet robe they me aray Which shews my bloud to be the onely way And cordiall left to repair mans decay Was ever grief like mine Then on my head a crown of thorns I wear For these are all the grapes Sion doth bear Though I my vine planted and watred there Was ever grief c. So sits the earths great curse in Adams fall Upon my head so I remove it all From th' earth unto my brows and bear the thrall Was ever grief c. Then with the reed they gave to me before They strike my head the rock from whence all 〈◊〉 Of heav'nly blessings issue evermore Was ever grief c. They bow their knees to me and cry Hail king What ever scoffes or scornfulnesse can bring I am the floore the sink where they it fling Was ever grief c. Yet since mans scepters are as frail as reeds And thorny all their crowns bloudie their weeds I who am Truth turn into truth their deeds Was ever grief c. The souldiers also spit upon that face Which Angels did desire to have the grace And Prophets once to see but found no place Was ever grief c. Thus trimmed forth they bring me to the rout Who Crucifie him crie with one strong shout God holds his peace at man and man cries out Was ever grief c. â—â—ey leade me in once more and putting then â—he own clothes on they leade me out agen â—â—om devils flie thus is he toss'd of men Was ever grief like mine â—â—d now wearie of sport glad to ingrosse 〈◊〉 spite in one counting my life their losse â—â—ey carrie me to my most
houre Of my whole life one grief devoure That thy distresse through all may runne And be my sunne Or rather let My severall sinnes their sorrows get That as each beast his cure doth know Each sinne may so Since bloud is fittest Lord to write Thy sorrows in and bloudie sight My heart hath store write there where in One box doth lie both ink and sinne That when sinne spies so many foes Thy whips thy nails thy wounds thy woes All come to lodge there sinne may say No room for me and flie away Sinne being gone oh fill the place And keep possession with thy grace Lest sinne take courage and return And all the writings blot or burn ¶ Redemption HAving been tenant long to a rich Lord Not thriving I resolved to be bold And make a suit unto him to afford A new small-rented lease and cancell th' old In heaven at his manour I him sought They told me there that he was lately gone About some land which he had dearly bought Long since on earth to take possession I straight return'd and knowing his great birth Sought him accordingly in great resorts In cities theatres gardens parks and courts At length I heard a ragged noise and mirth Of theeves and murderers there I him espiedâ— Who straight Your suit is granted said die◠¶ Sepulchre O Blessed bodie Whither art thou thrown No lodging for thee but a cold hard stone So many hearts on earth and yet not one Receive thee Sure there is room within our hearts good store For they can lodge transgressions by the score Thousands of toyes dwell there yet out of doore They leave thee But that which shews them large shews them unfit What ever sinne did this pure rock commit Which holds thee now Who hath indited it Of murder Where our hard hearts have took up stones to brain thee And missing this most falsly did arraigne thee Onely these stones in quiet entertain thee And order And as of old the law by heav'nly art Was writ in stone so thou which also art The letter of the word find'st no fit heart To hold thee Yet do we still persist as we began And so should perish but that nothing can Though it be cold hard foul from loving man Withold thee ¶ Easter RIse heart thy Lord is risen Sing his praise Without delayes â—ho takes thee by the hand that thou likewise With him mayst rise â—hat as his death calcined thee to dust â—is life may make thee gold and much more just â—wake my lute and struggle for thy part With all thy art The crosse taught all wood to resound his name Who bore the same â—is streched sinews taught all strings what key 〈◊〉 best to celebrate this most high day Consort both heart and lute and twist a song Pleasant and long Or since all musick is but three parts vied And multiplied O let thy blessed Spirit bear a part And make up our defects with his sweet art 〈◊〉 got me flowers to straw thy way 〈◊〉 got me boughs off many a tree But thou wast up by break of day And brought'st thy sweets along with thee The Sunne arising in the East Though he give light th' East perfume If they should offer to contest With thy arising they presume Can there be any day but this Though many sunnes to shine endeavour We count three hundred but we misse There is but one and that one ever ¶ Easter wings Lord who createdst man in wealth and store Though foolishly he lost the same Decaying more and more Till he became Most poore With thee O let me rise As larks harmoniously And sing this day thy victories Then shall the fall further the flight in me ¶ Easter wings My tender age in sorrow did beginne And still with sicknesses and shame Thou didst so punish sinne That I became Most thinne With thee Let me combine And feel this day thy victorie For if I imp my wing on thine Affliction shall advance the flight in me ¶ H. Baptisme AS he that sees a dark and shadie grove Stayes not but looks beyond it on the skie So when I view my sinnes mine eyes remove More backward still and to that water flie Which is above the heav'ns whose spring and rent Is in my deare Redeemers pierced side O blessed streams either ye do prevent And stop our sinnes from growing thick and wide Or else give tears to drown them as they grow In you Redemption measures all my time And spreads the plaister equall to the crime You taught the book of life my name that so What ever future sinnes should me miscall Your first acquaintance might discredit all ¶ H. Baptisme SInce Lord to thee A narrow way and little gate Is all the passage on my infancie Thou didst lay hold and antedate My faith in me O let me still Write thee great God and me a childe Let me be soft and supple to thy will Small to my self to others milde Behither ill Although by stealth My flesh get on yet let her sister My soul bid nothing but preserve her wealth The growth of flesh is but a blister Childhood is health ¶ Nature FUll of rebellion I would die Or fight or travell or denie That thou hast ought to do with me O tame my heart It is thy highest art To captivate strong holds to thee â—f thou shalt let this venome lurk And in suggestions fume and work My soul will turn to bubbles straight And thence by kinde Vanish into a winde Making thy workmanship deceit O smooth my rugged heart and there Engrave thy rev'rend law and fear Or make a new one since the old Is saplesse grown And a much fitter stone To hide my dust then thee to hold ¶ Sinne. LOrd with what care hast thou begirt us round Parents first season us then schoolmasters Deliver us to laws they send us bound To rules of reason holy messengers Pulpits and sundayes sorrow dogging sinne Afflictions sorted anguish of all sizes Fine nets and stratâ—gems to catch us in Bibles laid open millions of surprises Blessings beforehand tyes of gratefulnesse The sound of glorie ringing in our eares Without our shame within our consciences Angels and grace eternall hopes and fears Yet all these fences and their whole aray One cunning bosome-sinne blows quite away ¶ Affliction WHen first thou didst entice to thee my heart I thought the service brave So many joyes I writ down for my part Besides what I might have Out of my stock of naturall delights Augmented with thy gracious benefits I looked on thy furniture so fine And made it fine to me Thy glorious houshold-stuffe did me entwine And ' tice me unto thee Such starres I counted mine both heav'n and earth Payd me my wages in a world of mirth What pleasures could I want whose King I served Where joyes my fellows were Thus argu'd into hopes my thoughts reserved No place for grief or fear Therefore my sudden soul caught at the place And made her
minde Admitted to their bed-chamber before They appeare trim and drest To ordinarie suitours at the doore What hath not man sought out and found But his deare God who yet his glorious law Embosomes in us mellowing the ground With showres and frosts with love aw So that we need not say Where 's this command Poore man thou searchest round To finde out death but missest life at hand ¶ Lent WElcome deare feast of Lent who loves not thee He loves not Temperance or Authoritie But is compos'd of passion The Scriptures bid us fast the Church sayes now Give to thy Mother what thou wouldst allow To ev'ry Corporation The humble soul compos'd of love and fear Begins at home and layes the burden there When doctrines disagree He sayes in things which use hath justly got I am a scandall to the Church and not The Church is so to me True Christians should be glad of an occasion To use their temperance seeking no evasion When good is seasonable Unlesse Authoritie which should increase The obligation in us make it lesse And Power it self disable Besides the cleannesse of sweet abstinence Quick thoughts and motions at a small expense A face not fearing light Whereas in fulnesse there are sluttish fumes Sowre exhalations and dishonest rheumes Revenging the delight Then those same pendant profits which the spring And Easter intimate enlarge the thing And goodnesse of the deed Neither ought other mens abuse of Lent Spoil the good use leâ—t by that argument We forfeit all our Creed It 's true we cannot reach Christs forti'th day Yet to go part of that religious way Is better then to rest We cannot reach our Saviours puritie Yet are we bid Be holy ev'n as he In both let 's do our best Who goeth in the way which Christ hath gone Is much more sure to meet with him then one That travelleth by-wayes Perhaps my God though he be farre before May turn and take me by the hand and more May strengthen my decayes Yet Lord instruct us to improve our fast By starving sinne and taking such repast As may our faults controll That ev'ry man may revell at his doore Not in his parlour banquetting the poore And among those his soul. ¶ Vertue SWeet day so cool so calm so bright The bridall of the earth and skie The dew shall weep thy fall to night For thou must die Sweet rose whose hue angrie and brave Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye Thy root is ever in its grave And thou must die Sweet spring full of sweet dayes and roses A box where sweets compacted lie My musick shows ye have your closes And all must die Onely a sweet and vertuous soul Like season'd timber never gives But though the whole world turn to coal Then chiefly lives ¶ The Pearl Matth. 13. I Know the wayes of learning both the head And pipes that feed the presse and make it runne What reason hath from nature borrowed Or of it self like a good huswife spunne In laws and policie what the starres conspire What willing nature speaks what forc'd by fire Both th' old discoveries and the new-found seas The stock and surplus cause and historie All these stand open or I have the keyes Yet I love thee I know the wayes of honour what maintains The quick returns of courtesie and wit In vies of favours whether partie gains When glorie swells the heart and moldeth it To all expressions both of hand and eye Which on the world a true-love-knot may tie And bear the bundle wheresoe're it goes How many drammes of spirit there must be To sell my life unto my friends or foes Yet I love thee I know the wayes of pleasure the sweet strains The lullings and the relishes of it The propositions of hot bloud and brains What mirth and musick mean what love and wit Have done these twentie hundred yeares and more I know the projects of unbridled store My stuffe is flesh not brasse my senses live And grumble oft that they have more in me Then he that curbs them being but one to five Yet I love thee I know all these and have them in my hand Therefore not sealed but with open eyes I flie to thee and fully understand Both the main sale and the commodities And at what rate and price I have thy love With all the circumstances that may move Yet through the labyrinths not my groveling wit But thy silk twist let down from heav'n to me Did both conduct and teach me how by it To climbe to thee ¶ Affliction BRoken in pieces all asunder Lord hunt me not A thing forgot Once a poore creature now a wonder A wonder tortur'd in the space Betwixt this world and that of grace My thoughts are all a case of knives Wounding my heart With scatter'd smart As watring pots give flowers their lives Nothing their furie can controll While they do wound and prick my soul. All my attendants are at strife Quitting their place Unto my face Nothing performs the task of life The elements are let loose to fight And while I live trie out their right Oh help my God! let not their plot Kill them and me And also thee Who art my life dissolve the knot As the sunne scatters by his light All the rebellions of the night Then shall those powers which work for grief Enter thy pay And day by day Labour thy praise and my relief With care and courage building me Till I reach heav'n and much more thee ¶ Man MY God I heard this day That none doth build a stately habitation But he that means to dwell therein What house more stately hath there been Or can be then is Man to whose creation All things are in decay For Man is ev'ry thing And more He is a tree yet bears no fruit A beast yet is or should be more Reason and speech we onely bring Parrats may thank us if they are not mute They go upon the score Man is all symmetrie Full of proportions one limbe to another And all to all the world besides Each part may call the farthest brother For head with foot hath private amitie And both with moons and tides Nothing hath got so farre But Man hath caught and kept it as his prey His eyes dismount the highest starre He is in little all the sphere Herbs gladly cure our flesh because that they Finde their acquaintance there For us the windes do blow The earth doth rest heav'n move and fountains flow Nothing we see but means our good As our delight or as our treasure The whole is either our cupboard of food Or cabinet of pleasure The starres have us to bed Night draws the curtain which the sunne withdraws Musick and light attend our head All things unto our flesh are kinde In their descent and being to our minde In their ascent and cause Each thing is full of dutie Waters united are our navigation Distinguished our habitation Below our drink above our meat Both are
our cleanlinesse Hath one such beautie Then how are all things neat More servants wait on Man Then he 'l take notice of in ev'ry path He treads down that which doth befriend him When sicknesse makes him pale and wan Oh mightie love Man is one world and hath Another to attend him Since then my God thou hast So brave a Palace built O dwell in it That it may dwell with thee at last Till then afford us so much wit That as the world serves us we may serve thee And both thy servants be ¶ Antiphon Chor. PRaised be the God of love Men. Here below Angels And here above Cho. Who hath dealt his mercies so Ang. To his friend Men. And to his foe Cho. That both grace and glorie tend Ang. Us of old Men. And us in th' end Cho. The great shepherd of the fold Ang. Us did make Men. For us was sold. Cho. He our foes in pieces brake Ang. Him we touch Men. And him we take Cho. Wherefore since that he is such Ang. We adore Men. And we do crouch Cho. Lord thy praises should be more Men. We have none Ang. And we no store Cho. Praised be the God alone Who hath made of two folds one ¶ Unkindnesse LOrd make me coy and tender to offend In friendship first I think if that agree Which I intend Unto my friends intent and end I would not use a friend as I use Thee If any touch my friend or his good name It is honour and my love to free His blasted fame From the least spot or thought of blame I could not use a friend as I use Thee My friend may spit upon my curious floore Would he gave gold I lend it instantly But let the poore And thou within them starve at doore I cannot use a friend as I use Thee When that my friend pretendeth to a place I quit my interest and leave it free But when thy grace Sues for my heart I thee displace Nor would I use a friend as I use Thee Yet can a friend what thou hast done fulfill O write in brasse My God upon a tree His bloud did spill Onely to purchase my good-will Yet use I not my foes as I use thee ¶ Life I Made a posie while the day ran by Here will I smell my remnant out and tie My life within this band But time did becken to the flowers and they By noon most cunningly did steal away And wither'd in my hand My hand was next to them and then my heart I took without more thinking in good part Times gentle admonition Who did so sweetly deaths sad taste convey Making my minde to smell my fatall day Yet sugring the suspicion Farewell deare flowers sweetly your time ye spent Fit while ye liv'd for smell or ornament And after death for cures I follow straight without complaints or grief Since if my sent be good I care not if It be as short as yours ¶ Submission BUt that thou art my wisdome Lord And both mine eyes are thine My minde would be extreamly stirr'd For missing my designe Were it not better to bestow Some place and power on me Then should thy praises with me grow And share in my degree But when I thus dispute and grieve I do resume my sight And pilfring what I once did give Disseize thee of thy right How know I if thou shouldst me raise That I should then raise thee Perhaps great places and thy praise Do not so well agree Wherefore unto my gift I stand I will no more advise Onely do thou lend me a hand Since thou hast both mine eyes ¶ Justice I Cannot skill of these thy wayes Lord thou didst make me yet thou woundest me Lord thou dost wound me yet thou dost relieve me Lord thou relievest yet I die by thee Lord thou dost kill me yet thou dost reprieve me But when I mark my life and praise Thy justice me most fitly payes For I do praise thee yet I praise thee not My prayers mean thee yet my prayers stray I would do well yet sinne the hand hath got My soul doth love thee yet it loves delay I cannot skill of these my wayes ¶ Charms and Knots WHo reade a chapter when they rise Shall ne're be troubled with ill eyes A poore mans rod when thou dost ride â—s both a weapon and a guide Who shuts his hand hath lost his gold Who opens it hath it twice told Who goes to bed and doth not pray Maketh two nights to ev'ry day Who by aspersions throw a stone At th' head of others hit their own Who looks on ground with humble eyes Findes himself there and seeks to rise When th' hair is sweet through pride or lust The powder doth forget the dust Take one from ten and what remains Ten still if sermons go for gains In shallow waters heav'n doth show But who drinks on to hell may go ¶ Affliction MY God I read this day That planted Paradise was not so firm As was and is thy floting Ark whose stay And anchor thou art onely to confirm And strengthen it in ev'ry age When waves do rise and tempests rage At first we liv'd in pleasure Thine own delights thou didst to us impart When we grew wanton thou didst use displeasure To make us thine yet that we might not part As we at first did board with thee Now thou wouldst taste our miserie There is but joy and grief If either will convert us we are thine Some Angels us'd the first if our relief Take up the second then thy double line And sev'rall baits in either kinde Furnish thy table to thy minde Affliction then is ours We are the trees whom shaking fastens more While blustring windes destroy the wanton bowres And ruffle all their curious knots and store My God so temper joy and wo That thy bright beams may tame thy bow ¶ Mortification HOw soon doth man decay When clothes are taken from a chest of sweets To swaddle infants whose young breath Scarce knows the way Those clouts are little winding sheets Which do consigne and send them unto death When boyes go first to bed They step into their voluntarie graves Sleep bindes them fast onely their breath Makes them not dead Successive nights like rolling waves Convey them quickly who are bound for death When youth is frank and free And calls for musick while his veins do swell All day exchanging mirth and breath In companie That musick summons to the knell Which shall befriend him at the house of death When man grows staid and wise â—etting a house and home where he may move Within the circle of his breath Schooling his eyes That dumbe inclosure maketh love Into the coffin that attends his death When age grows low and weak Marking his grave and thawing ev'ry yeare Till all do melt and drown his breath When he would speak A chair or litter shows the biere Which shall convey him to the house of death Man ere he is aware Hath
as I rav'd and grew more fierce and wilde At every word Me thoughts I heard one calling Childe And I reply'd My Lord. ¶ The Glimpse WHither away delight Thou cam'st but now wilt thou so soon depart And give me up to night For many weeks of lingring pain and smart But one half houre of comfort for my heart Me thinks delight should have More skill in musick and keep better time Wert thou a winde or wave They quickly go and come with lesser crime Flowers look about and die not in their prime Thy short abode and stay Feeds not but addes to the desire of meat Lime begg'd of old they say A neighbour spring to cool his inward heat Which by the springs accesse grew much more great In hope of thee my heart Pickt here and there a crumme and would not die But constant to his part When as my fears foretold this did replie A slender thread a gentle guest will tie Yet if the heart that wept Must let thee go return when it doth knock Although thy heap be kept For future times the droppings of the stock May oft break forth and never break the lock If I have more to spinne The wheel shall go so that thy stay be short Thou knowst how grief and sinne Disturb the work O make me not their sport Who by thy coming may be made a court ¶ Assurance O Spitefull bitter thought Bitterly spitefull thought Couldst thou invent So high a torture Is such poyson bought Doubtlesse but in the way of punishment When wit contrives to meet with thee No such rank poyson can there be Thou said'st but even now That all was not so fair as I conceiv'd Betwixt my God and me that I allow And coin large hopes but that I was deceiv'd Either the league was broke or neare it And that I had great cause to fear it And what to this what more Could poyson if it had a tongue expresse What is thy aim wouldst thou unlock the doore To cold despairs and gnawing pensivenesse Wouldst thou raise devils I see I know I writ thy purpose long ago But I will to my Father Who heard thee say it O most gracious Lord If all hope and comfort that I gather Were from my self I had not half a word Not half a letter to oppose What is objected by my foes But thou art my desert And in this league which now my foes invade Thou art not onely to perform thy part But also mine as when the league was made Thou didst at once thy self indite And hold my hand while I did write Wherefore if thou canst fail Then can thy truth and I but while rocks stand And rivers stirre thou canst not shrink or quail Yea when both rocks and all things shall disband Then shalt thou be my rock and tower And make their ruine praise thy power Now foolish thought go on Spin out thy thread and make thereof a coat To hide thy shame for thou hast cast a bone Which bounds on thee and will not down thy throat What for it self love once began Now love and truth will end in man ¶ The Call COme my Way my Truth my Life Such a Way as gives us breath Such a Truth as ends all strife And such a Life as killeth death Come my Light my Feast my Strength Such a Light as shows a feast Such a Feast as mends in length Such a Strength as makes his guest Come my Joy my Love my Heart Such a Joy as none can move Such a Love as none can part Such a Heart as joyes in love ¶ Clasping of hands LOrd thou art mine and I am thine If mine I am and thine much more Then I or ought or can be mine Yet to be thine doth me restore So that again I now am mine And with advantage mine the more Since this being mine brings with it thine And thou with me dost thee restore If I without thee would be mine I neither should be mine nor thine Lord I am thine and thou art mine So mine thou art that something more I may presume thee mine then thine For thou didst suffer to restore Not thee but me and to be mine And with advantage mine the more Since thou in death wast none of thine Yet then as mine didst me restore O be mine still still make me thine Or rather make no Thine and Mine ¶ Praise LOrd I will mean and speak thy praise Thy praise alone My busie heart shall spin it all my dayes And when it stops for want of store Then will I wring it with a sigh or grone That thou mayst yet have more When thou dost favour any action It runnes it flies All things concurre to give it a perfection That which had but two legs before When thou dost blesse hath twelve one wheel doth riâ—â— To twentie then or more But when thou dost on businesse blow It hangs it clogs Not all the teams of Albion in a row Can hale or draw it out of doore Legs are but stumps and Pharaohs wheels but logs And struggling hinders more Thousands of things do thee employ In ruling all This spacious globe Angels must have their joy Devils their rod the sea his shore The windes their stint and yet when I did call Thou heardst my call and more I have not lost one single tear But when mine eyes Did weep to heav'n they found a bottle there As we have boxes for the poore Readie to take them in yet of a size That would contain much more But after thou hadst slipt a drop From thy right eye Which there did hang like streamers neare the top Of some fair church to show the sore And bloudie battell which thou once didst trie The glasse was full and more Wherefore I sing Yet since my heart Though press'd runnes thin O that I might some other hearts convert And so take up at use good store That to thy chests there might be coming in Both all my praise and more ¶ Josephs coat WOunded I sing tormented I indite Thrown down I fall into a bed and rest Sorrow hath chang'd its note such is his will Who changeth all things as him pleaseth best For well he knows if but one grief and smart Among my many had his full career Sure it would carrie with it ev'n my heart And both would runne untill they found a biere To fetch the bodie both being due to grief But he hath spoil'd the race and giv'n to anguish One of Joyes coats ticing it with relief To linger in me and together languish I live to shew his power who once did bring My joyes to weep and now my griefs to sing ¶ The Pulley WHen God at first made man Having a glasse of blessings standing by Let us said he poure on him all we can Let the worlds riches which dispersed lie Contract into a span So strength first made a way Then beautie flow'd then wisdome honour pleasure When almost all was out God made a stay