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
and giving light But since those pipes of gold which brought That cordiall water to our ground Were cut and martyr'd by the fault Of those who did themselves through their side wound Thou shutt'st the doore and keep'st within Scarce a good joy creeps through the chink And if the braves of conqu'ring sinne Did not excite thee we should wholly sink Lord though we change thou art the same The same sweet God of love and light Restore this day for thy great name Unto his ancient and miraculous right ¶ Grace MY stock lies dead and no increase Doth my dull husbandrie improve O let thy graces without cease Drop from above If still the sunne should hide his face Thy house would but a dungeon prove Thy works nights captives O let grace Drop from above The dew doth ev'ry morning fall And shall the dew out-strip thy dove The dew for which grasse cannot call Drop from above Death is still working like a mole And digs my grave at each remove Let grace work too and on my soul Drop from above Sinne is still hammering my heart Unto a hardnesse void of love Let suppling grace to crosse his art Drop from above 〈◊〉 come for thou dost know the way â—r if to me thou wilt not move â—emove me where I need not say Drop from above ¶ Praise TO write a verse or two is all the praise That I can raise Mend my estate in any wayes Thou shalt have more 〈◊〉 go to Church help me to wings and I Will thither flie Or if I mount unto the skie I will do more â—an is all weaknesse there is no such thing As Prince or King His arm is short yet with a sling He may do more â—n herb destill'd and drunk may dwell next doore On the same floore To a brave soul Exalt the poore They can do more O raise me then poore bees that work all day Sting my delay Who have a work as well as they And much much more ¶ Affliction KIll me not ev'ry day â—hou Lord of life since thy one death for me Is more then all my deaths can be Though I in broken pay â—ie over each houre of Methusalems stay If all mens tears were let Into one common sewer sea and brine What were they all compar'd to thiâ—â— Wherein if they were set They would discolour thy most bloudy sweat Thou art my grief alone Thou Lord conceal it not and as thou art All my delight so all my smart Thy crosse took up in one By way of imprest all my future mone ¶ Mattens I Cannot ope mine eyes But thou art ready there to catch My morning-soul and sacrifice Then we must needs for that day make a match My God what is a heart Silver or gold or precious stone Or starre or rainbow or a part Of all these things or all of them in one My God what is a heart That thou shouldst it so eye and wooe Powring upon it all thy art As if that thou hadst nothing els to do Indeed mans whole estate Amounts and richly to serve thee He did not heav'n and earth create Yet studies them not him by whom they be Teach me thy love to know That this new light which now I see May both the work and workman show Then by a sunne-beam I will climbe to thee ¶ Sinne. O That I could a sinne once see We paint the devil foul yet he Hath some good in him all agree Sinne is flat opposite to th' Almighty seeing â—t wants the good of vertue and of being But God more care of us hath had If apparitions make us sad By sight of sinne we should grow mad Yet as in sleep we see foul death and live So devils are our sinnes in perspective ¶ Even-song BLest be the God of love Who gave me eyes and light and power this day Both to be busie and to play But much more blest be God above Who gave me sight alone Which to himself he did denie For when he sees my waies I dy But I have got his sonne and he hath none What have I brought thee home For this thy love have I discharg'd the debt Which this dayes favour did beget I ranne but all I brought was â—ome Thy diet care and cost Do end in bubbles balls of winde Of winde to thee whom I have crost But balls of wilde-fire to my troubled minde Yet still thou goest on And now with darknesse closest wearie eyes Saying to man It doth suffice Henceforth repose your work is done Thus in thy Ebony box Thou dost inclose us till the day Put our amendment in our way And give new wheels to our disorder'd clocks I muse which shows more love The day or night that is the gale this th'harbour That is the walk and this the arbour Or that the garden this the grove My God thou art all love Not one poore minute scapes thy breast But brings a favour from above And in this love more then in bed I rest ¶ Church-monuments WHile that my soul repairs to her devotion Here I intombe my flesh that it betimes May take acquaintance of this heap of dust To which the blast of deaths incessant motion Fed with the exhalation of our crimes Drives all at last Therefore I gladly trust My bodie to this school that it may learn To spell his elements and finde his birth Written in dustie heraldrie and lines Which dissolution sure doth best discern Comparing dust with dust and earth with earth These laugh at Ieat and Marble put for signes â—o sever the good fellowship of dust â—nd spoil the meeting What shall point out them â—hen they shall bow and kneel and fall down flat â—o kisse those heaps which now they have in trust â—eare flesh while I do pray learn here thy stemme â—nd true descent that when thou shalt grow fat â—nd wanton in thy cravings thou mayst know â—hat flesh is but the glasse which holds the dust That measures all our time which also shall â—e crumbled into dust Mark here below â—ow tame these ashes are how free from lust That thou mayst fit thy self against thy fall ¶ Church-musick SWeetest of sweets I thank you when displeasure Did through my bodie wound my minde You took me thence and in your house of pleasure A daintie lodging me assign'd Now I in you without a bodie move Rising and falling with your wings We both together sweetly live and love Yet say sometimes God help poore Kings Comfort ' I le die for if you poste from me Sure I shall do so and much more But if I travell in your companie You know the way to heavens doore ¶ Church-lock and key I Know it is my sinne which locks thine eares And bindes thy hands Out-crying my requests drowning my tears Or else the chilnesse of my faint demands But as cold hands are angrie with the fire And mend it still So I do lay the want of my desire Not on my sinnes or coldnesse but thy will
Yet heare O God onely for his blouds sake Which pleads for me For though sinnes plead too yet like stones they maâ—â— His blouds sweet current much more loud to be ¶ The Church-floore MArk you the floore that square speckled stonâ— Which looks so firm and strong Is Patience And th' other black and grave wherewith each one Is checker'd all along Humilitie The gentle rising which on either hand Leads to the Quire above Is Confidence But the sweet cement which in one sure band Ties the whole frame is Love And Charitie Hither sometimes Sinne steals and stains The marbles neat and curious veins But all is cleansed when the marble weeps Sometimes Death puffing at the doore Blows all the dust about the floore But while he thinks to spoil the room he sweeps Blest be the Architect whose art Could build so strong in a weak heart ¶ The Windows LOrd how can man preach thy eternall word He is a brittle crazie glasse â—et in thy temple thou dost him afford This glorious and transcendent place To be a window through thy grace But when thou dost anneal in glasse thy storie Making thy life to shine within The holy Preachers then the light and glorie More rev'rend grows more doth wine Which else shows watrish bleak thin Doctrine and life colours and light in one When they combine and mingle bring A strong regard and aw but speech alone Doth vanish like a flaring thing And in the eare not conscience ring ¶ Trinitie Sunday LOrd who hast form'd me out of mud And hast redeem'd me through thy bloud And sanctifi'd me to do good Purge all my sinnes done heretofore For I confesse my heavie score And I will strive to sinne no more Enrich my heart mouth hands in me With faith with hope with charitie That I may runne rise rest with thee ¶ Content PEace mutt'ring thoughts and do not grudge to keep Within the walls of your own breast Who cannot on his own bed sweetly sleep Can on anothers hardly rest Gad not abroad at ev'ry quest and call Of an untrained hope or passion To court each place or fortune that doth fall Is wantonnesse in contemplation Mark how the fire in flints doth quiet lie Content and warm t' it self alone But when it would appeare to others eye Without a knock it never shone Give me the pliant minde whose gentle measure Complies and suits with all estates Which can let loose to a crown and yet with pleasure Take up within a cloisters gates This soul doth span the world and hang content From either pole unto the centre Where in each room of the well-furnisht tent He lies warm and without adventure The brags of life are but a nine dayes wonder And after death the fumes that spring From private bodies make as big a thunder As those which rise from a huge King Onely thy Chronicle is lost and yet Better by worms be all once spent Then to have hellish moths still gnaw and fret Thy name in books which may not rent When all thy deeds whose brunt thou feel'st alone Are chaw'd by others pens and tongue â—nd as their wit is their digestion Thy nourisht fame is weak or strong Then cease discoursing soul till thine own ground Do not thy self or friends importune He that by seeking hath himself once found Hath euer found a happie fortune ¶ The Quidditie MY God a verse is not a crown No point of honour or gay suit No hawk or banquet or renown Nor a good sword nor yet a lute It cannot vault or dance or play It never was in France or Spain Nor can it entertain the day With a great stable or demain It is no office art or news Nor the Exchange or busie Hall But it is that which while I use I am with thee and Most take all ¶ Humilitie I Saw the Vertues sitting hand in hand In sev'rall ranks upon an azure throne Where all the beasts and fowls by their command Presented tokens of submission Humilitie who sat the lowest there To execute their call When by the beasts the presents tendred were Gave them about to all The angrie Lion did present his paw Which by consent was giv'n to Mansuetude The fearfull Hare her eares which by their law Humilitie did reach to Fortitude The jealous Turkie brought his corall-chain That went to Temperance On Justice was bestow'd the Foxes brain Kill'd in the way by chance At length the Crow bringing the Peacocks plume For he would not as they beheld the grace Of that brave gift each one began to fume And challenge it as proper to his place Till they fell out which when the beasts espied They leapt upon the throne And if the Fox had liv'd to rule their side They had depos'd each one Humilitie who held the plume at this Did weep so fast that the tears trickling down Spoil'd all the train then saying Here it is For which ye wrangle made them turn their frown Against the beasts so joyntly bandying They drive them soon away And then amerc'd them double gifts to bring At the next Session-day ¶ Frailtie LOrd in my silence how do I despise What upon trust Is styled honour riches or fair eyes But is fair dust I surname them guilded clay Deare earth fine grasse or hay In all I think my foot doth ever tread Upon their head â—â—t when I view abroad both Regiments The worlds and thine â—â—ine clad with simplenesse and sad events The other fine Full of glorie and gay weeds Brave language braver deeds â—hat which was dust before doth quickly rise And prick mine eyes 〈◊〉 brook not this lest if what even now My foot did tread â—ffront those joyes wherewith thou didst endow And long since wed My poore soul ev'n sick of love It may a Babel prove Commodious to conquer heav'n and thee Planted in me ¶ Constancie WHo is the honest man He that doth still and strongly good pursue To God his neighbour and himself most true Whom neither force nor fawning can Unpinne or wrench from giving all their due Whose honestie is not So loose or easie that a ruffling winde Can blow away or glittering look it blinde Who rides his sure and even trot While the world now rides by now lags behinde Who when great trials come Nor seeks nor shunnes them but doth calmly stay Till he the thing and the example weigh All being brought into a summe What place or person calls for he doth pay Whom none can work or wooe To use in any thing a trick or sleight For above all things he abhorres deceit His words and works and fashion too All of a piece and all are cleare and straight Who never melts or thaws At close tentations when the day is done His goodnesse sets not but in dark can runne The sunne to others writeth laws And is their vertue Vertue is his Sunne Who when he is to treat With sick folks women those whom passions sway Allows for that and
power Killing and quickning bringing down to hell And up to heaven in an houre Making a chiming of a passing-bell We say amisse This or that is Thy word is all if we could spell O that I once past changing were Fast in thy Paradise where no flower can wither Many a spring I shoot up fair Offring at heav'n growing and groning thither Nor doth my flower Want a spring-showre My sinnes and I joining together But while I grow in a straight line Still upwards bent as if heav'n were mine own Thy anger comes and I decline What frost to that what pole is not the zone Where all things burn When thou dost turn And the least frown of thine is shown And now in age I bud again After so many deaths I live and write I once more smell the dew and rain And relish versing O my onely light It cannot be That I am he On whom thy tempests fell all night These are thy wonders Lord of love To make us see we are but flowers that glide Which when we once can finde and prove Thou hast a garden for us where to bide Who would be more Swelling through store Forfeit their Paradise by their pride ¶ Dotage FAlse glozing pleasures casks of happinesse Foolish night-fires womens and childrens wishes Chases in Arras guilded emptinesse Shadows well mounted dreams in a career Embroider'd lyes nothing between two dishes These are the pleasures here True earnest sorrows rooted miseries Anguish in grain vexations ripe and blown Sure-footed griefs solid calamities Plain demonstrations evident and cleare Fetching their proofs ev'n from the very bone These are the sorrows here But oh the folly of distracted men Who griefs in earnest joyes in jest pursue Preferring like brute beasts a lothsome den Before a court ev'n that above so cleare Where are no sorrows but delights more true Then miseries are here ¶ The Sonne LEt forrain nations of their language boast What fine varietie each tongue affords I like our language as our men and coast Who cannot dresse it well want wit not words How neatly doe we give one onely name To parents issue and the sunnes bright starre A sonne is light and fruit a fruitfull flame Chasing the fathers dimnesse carri'd farre From the first man in th' East to fresh and new Western discov'ries of posteritie So in one word our Lords humilitie We turn upon him in a sense most true For what Christ once in humblenesse began We him in glorie call The Sonne of Man ¶ A true Hymne MY joy my life my crown My heart was meaning all the day Somewhat it fain would say And still it runneth mutt'ring up and down With onely this My joy my life my crown Yet slight not these few words If truly said they may take part Among the best in art The finenesse which a hymne or psalme affords Is when the soul unto the lines accords He who craves all the minde And all the soul and strength and time If the words onely ryme Justly complains that somewhat is behinde To make his verse or write a hymne in kinde Whereas if th' heart be moved Although the verse be somewhat scant God doth supplie the want As when th' heart sayes sighing to be approved O could I love and stops God writeth Loved ¶ The Answer MY comforts drop and melt away like snow I shake my head and all the thoughts and ends Which my fierce youth did bandie fall and flow Like leaves about me or like summer friends Flyes of estates and sunne-shine But to all Who think me eager hot and undertaking But in my prosecutions slack and small As a young exhalation newly waking Scorns his first bed of dirt and means the sky But cooling by the way grows pursie and slow And setling to a cloud doth live and die In that dark state of tears to all that so Show me and set me I have one reply Which they that know the rest know more then I. ¶ A Dialogue-Antheme Christian. Death Chr. ALas poore Death where is thy glorie Where is thy famous force thy ancient sting Dea. Alas poore mortall void of storie Go spell and reade how I have kill'd thy King Chr. Poore death and who was hurt thereby Thy curse being laid on him makes thee accurst Dea. Let losers talk yet thou shalt die These arms shall crush thee Chr. Spare not do thy worst I shall be one day better then before Thou so much worse that thou shalt be no more ¶ The Water-course THou who dost dwell and linger here below Since the condition of this world is frail Where of all plants afflictions soonest grow If troubles overtake thee do not wail For who can look for lesse that loveth Life Strife But rather turn the pipe and waters course To serve thy sinnes and furnish thee with store Of sov'raigne tears springing from true remorse That so in purenesse thou mayst him adore Who gives to man as he sees fit Salvation Damnation ¶ Self-condemnation THou who condemnest Jewish hate For choosing Barabbas a murderer Before the Lord of glorie Look back upon thine own estate Call home thine eye that busie wanderer That choice may be thy storie He that doth love and love amisse This worlds delights before true Christian joy Hath made a Jewish choice The world an ancient murderer is Thousands of souls it hath and doth destroy With her enchanting voice He that hath made a sorrie wedding Between his soul and gold and hath preferr'd False gain before the true Hath done what he condemnes in reading For he hath sold for money his deare Lord And is a Judas-Jew Thus we prevent the last great day And judge our selves That light which sin passion Did before dimme and choke When once those snuffes are ta'ne away Shines bright and cleare ev'n unto condemnation Without excuse or cloke ¶ Bitter-sweet AH my deare angrie Lord Since thou dost love yet strike Cast down yet help afford 〈◊〉 I will do the like I will complain yet praise I will bewail approve And all my sowre-sweet dayes I will lament and love ¶ The Glance WHen first thy sweet and gracious eye Vouchsaf'd ev'n in the midst of youth and night To look upon me who before did lie Weltring in sinne I felt a sugred strange delight Passing all cordials made by any art Bedew embalme and overrunne my heart And take it in Since that time many a bitter storm My soul hath felt ev'n able to destroy Had the malicious and ill-meaning harm His swing and sway But still thy sweet originall joy Sprung from thine eye did work within my soul And surging griefs when they grew bold controll And got the day If thy first glance so powerfull be A mirth but open'd and seal'd up again What wonders shall we feel when we shall see Thy full-ey'd love When thou shalt look us out of pain And one aspect of thine spend in delight More then a thousand sunnes disburse in light In heav'n above ¶ The