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
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
blessings were as slow As mens returns what would become of fools What hast thou there a heart but is it pure Search well and see for hearts have many holes Yet one pure heart is nothing to bestow In Christ two natures met to be thy cure O that within us hearts had propagation Since many gifts do challenge many hearts Yet one if good may title to a number And single things grow fruitfull by deserts In publick judgements one may be a nation And fence a plague while others sleep and slumber But all I fear is lest thy heart displease As neither good nor one so oft divisions Thy lusts have made and not thy lusts alone Thy passions also have their set partitions These parcell out thy heart recover these And thou mayst offer many gifts in one There is a balsome or indeed a bloud Dropping from heav'n which doth both cleanse and close All sorts of wounds of such strange force it is Seek out this All-heal and seek no repose Untill thou finde and use it to thy good Then bring thy gift and let thy hymne be this Since my sadnesse Into gladnesse Lord thou dost convert O accept What thou hast kept As thy due desert Had I many Had I any For this heart is none All were thine And none of mine Surely thine alone Yet thy favour May give savour To this poore oblation And it raise To be thy praise And be my salvation ¶ Longing WIth sick and famisht eyes With doubling knees and weary bones To thee my cries To thee my grones To thee my sighs my tears ascend No end My throat my soul is hoarse My heart is wither'd like a ground Which thou dost curse My thoughts turn round And make me giddie Lord I fall Yet call From thee all pitie flows Mothers are kinde because thou art And dost dispose To them a part Their infants them and they suck thee More free Bowels of pitie heare Lord of my soul love of my minde Bow down thine eare Let not the winde Scatter my words and in the same Thy name Look on my sorrows round Mark well my furnace O what flames What heats abound What griefs what shames Consider Lord Lord bow thine eare And heare Lord Jesu thou didst bow Thy dying head upon the tree O be not now More dead to me Lord heare Shall he that made the eare Not heare Behold thy dust doth stirre It moves it creeps it aims at thee Wilt thou deferre To succour me Thy pile of dust wherein each crumme Sayes Come To thee help appertains Hast thou left all things to their course And laid the reins Upon the horse Is all lockt hath a sinners plea No key Indeed the world 's thy book Where all things have their leafe assign'd Yet a meek look Hath interlin'd Thy board is full yet humble guests Finde nests Thou tarriest while I die And fall to nothing thou dost reigne And rule on high While I remain In bitter grief yet am I stil'd Thy childe Lord didst thou leave thy throne Not to relieve how can it be That thou art grown Thus hard to me Were sinne alive good cause there were To bear But now both sinne is dead And all thy promises live and bide That wants his head These speak and chide And in thy bosome poure my tears As theirs Lord JESU heare my heart Which hath been broken now so long That ev'ry part Hath got a tongue Thy beggars grow rid them away To day My love my sweetnesse heare By these thy feet at which my heart Lies all the yeare Pluck out thy dart And heal my troubled breast which cryes Which dyes ¶ The Bag. AWay despair my gracious Lord doth heare Though windes and waves assault my keel He doth preserve it he doth steer Ev'n when the boat seems most to reel Storms are the triumph of his art Well may he close his eyes but not his heart Hast thou not heard that my Lord JESUS di'd Then let me tell thee a strange storie The God of power as he did ride In his majestick robes of glorie Resolv'd to light and so one day He did descend undressing all the way The starres his tire of light and rings obtain'd The cloud his bow the fire his spear The sky his azure mantle gain'd And when they ask'd what he would wear He smil'd and said as he did go He had new clothes a making here below When he was come as travellers are wont He did repair unto an inne Both then and after many a brunt He did endure to cancell sinne And having giv'n the rest before Here he gave up his life to pay our score But as he was returning there came one That ran upon him with a spear He who came hither all alone Bringing nor man nor arms nor fear Receiv'd the blow upon his side And straight he turn'd and to his brethren cry'd If ye have any thing to send or write I have no bag but here is room Unto my fathers hands and sight Beleeve me it shall safely come That I shall minde what you impart Look you may put it very neare my heart Or if hereafter any of my friends Will use me in this kinde the doore Shall still be open what he sends I will present and somewhat more Not to his hurt Sighs will convey Any thing to me Heark despair away ¶ The Jews POore nation whose sweet sap and juice Our cyens have purloin'd and left you drie Whose streams we got by the Apostles sluce And use in baptisme while ye pine and die Who by not keeping once became a debter And now by keeping lose the letter Oh that my prayers mine alas Oh that some Angel might a trumpet sound At which the Church falling upon her face Should crie so loud untill the trump were drown'd And by that crie of her deare Lord obtain That your sweet sap might come again ¶ The Collar I Struck the board and cry'd No more I will abroad What shall I ever sigh and pine My lines and life are free free as the rode Loose as the winde as large as store Shall I be still in suit Have I no harvest but a thorn To let me bloud and not restore What I have lost with cordiall fruit Sure there was wine Before my sighs did drie it there was corn Before my tears did drown it Is the yeare onely lost to me Have I no bayes to crown it No flowers no garlands gay all blasted All wasted Not so my heart but there is fruit And thou hast hands Recover all thy sigh-blown age On double pleasures leave thy cold dispute Of what is fit and not forsake thy cage Thy rope of sands Which pettie thoughts have made and made to thee Good cable to enforce and draw And be thy law While thou didst wink and wouldst not see Away take heed I will abroad Call in thy deaths head there tie up thy fears He that forbears To suit and serve his need Deserves his load But
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
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
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
youth and fiercenesse seek thy face At first thou gav'st me milk and sweetnesses I had my wish and way My dayes were straw'd with flow'rs and happinesse There was no moneth but May. But with my yeares sorrow did twist and grow And made a partie unawares for wo. â—y flesh began unto my soul in pain Sicknesses cleave my bones â—onsuming agues dwell in ev'ry vein And tune my breath to grones â—orrow was all my soul I scarce beleeved â—ill grief did tell me roundly that I lived â—hen I got health thou took'st away my life And more for my friends die â—y mirth and edge was lost a blunted knife Was of more use then I. Thus thinne and lean without a fence or friend â—was blown through with ev'ry storm and winde Whereas my birth and spirit rather took The way that takes the town Thou didst betray me to a lingring book And wrap me in a gown I was entangled in the world of strife Before I had the power to change my life Yet for I threatned oft the siege to raise Not simpring all mine age Thou often didst with Academick praise Melt and dissolve my rage I took thy sweetned pill till I came neare I could not go away nor persevere Yet left perchance I should too happie be In my unhappinesse Turning my purge to food thou throwest me Into more sicknesses Thus doth thy power crosse-bias me not making Thine own gift good yet me from my wayes taking Now I am here what thou wilt do with me None of my books will show I reade and sigh and wish I were a tree For sure then I should grow To fruit or shade at least some bird would trust Her houshold to me and I should be just Yet though thou troublest me I must be meek In weaknesse must be stout Well I will change the service and go seek Some other master out Ah my deare God! though I am clean forgot Let me not love thee if I love thee not ¶ Repentance LOrd I confesse my sinne is great Great is my sinne Oh! gently treat With thy quick flow'r thy moment anie bloom Whose life still pressing Is one undressing A steadie aiming at a tombe Mans age is two houres work or three Each day doth round about us see Thus are we to delights but we are all To sorrows old If life be told From what life feeleth Adams fall O let thy height of mercie then Compassionate short-breathed men Cut me not off for my most foul transgression I do confesse My foolishnesse My God accept of my confession Sweeten at length this bitter bowl Which thou hast pour'd into my soul â—hy wormwood turn to health windes to fair weather For if thou stay I and this day As we did rise we die together When thou for sinne rebukest man Forthwith he waxeth wo and wan Bitternesse fills our bowels all our hearts Pine and decay And drop away And carrie with them th' other parts But thou wilt sinne and grief destroy That so the broken bones may joy And tune together in a well-set song Full of his praises Who dead men raises Fractures well cur'd make us more strong ¶ Faith LOrd how couldst thou so much appease Thy wrath for sinne as when mans sight was dimme And could see little to regard his ease And bring by Faith all things to him Hungrie I was and had no meat â— did conceit a most delicious feast â— had it straight and did as truly eat As ever did a welcome guest There is a rare outlandish root Which when I could not get I thought it here That apprehension cur'd so well my foot That I can walk to heav'n well neare I owed thousands and much more I did beleeve that I did nothing owe And liv'd accordingly my creditor Beleeves so too and lets me go Faith makes me any thing or all That I beleeve is in the sacred storie And where sinne placeth me in Adams fall Faith sets me higher in his glorie If I go lower in the book What can be lower then the common manger Faith puts me there with him who sweetly took Our flesh and frailtie death and danger If blisse had lien in art or strength None but the wise or strong had gained it Where now by Faith all arms are of a length One size doth all conditions fit A peasant may beleeve as much As a great Clerk and reach the highest stature Thus dost thou make proud knowledge bend crouâ— While grace fills up uneven nature When creatures had no reall light Inherent in them thou didst make the sunne Impute a lustre and allow them bright And in this shew what Christ hath done That which before was darkned clean With bushie groves pricking the lookers eie Vanisht away when Faith did change the scene And then appear'd a glorious skie What though my bodie runne to dust Faith cleaves unto it counting evr'y grain With an exact and most particular trust Reserving all for flesh again ¶ Prayer PRayer the Churches banquet Angels age Gods breath in man returning to his birth The soul in paraphrase heart in pilgrimage â—he Christian plummet sounding heav'n and earth â—â—gine against th' Almightie sinners towre Reversed thunder Christ-side-piercing spear The six-daies world-transposing in an houre A kinde of tune which all things heare and fear Softnesse and peace and joy and love and blisse Exalted Manna gladnesse of the best Heaven in ordinarie man well drest The milkie way the bird of Paradise Church-bels beyond the starres heard the souls bloud The land of spices something understood ¶ The H. Communion NOt in rich furniture or fine aray Nor in a wedge of gold Thou who from me wast sold To me dost now thy self convey For so thou should'st without me still have been Leaving within me sinne But by the way of nourishment and strengh Thou creep'st into my breast Making thy way my rest And thy small quantities my length Which spread their forces into every part Meeting sinnes force and art Yet can these not get over to my soul Leaping the wall that parts Our souls and fleshly hearts But as th' outworks they may controll My rebel-flesh and carrying thy name Affright both sinne and shame Onely thy grace which with these elements comes Knoweth the ready way And hath the privie key Op'ning the souls most subtile rooms While those to spirits refin'd at doore attend Dispatches from their friend Give me my captive soul or take My bodie also thither Another lift like this will make Them both to be together Before that sinne turn'd flesh to stone And all our lump to leaven A fervent sigh might well have blown Our innocent earth to heaven For sure when Adam did not know To sinne or sinne to smother He might to heav'n from Paradise go As from one room t'another Thou hast restor'd us to this ease By this thy heav'nly bloud Which I can go to when I please And leave th' earth to their food ¶ Antiphon Cho. LEt all the world
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
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
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
him I must adore Who of the laws sowre juice sweet wine did make Ev'n God himself being pressed for my sake ¶ Love unknown DEare Friend sit down the tale is long and sad And in my faintings I presume your loue Will more complie then help A Lord I had And have of whom some grounds which may improve I hold for two lives and both lives in me To him I brought a dish of fruit one day And in the middle plac'd my heart But he I sigh to say Lookt on a seruant who did know his eye Better then you know me or which is one Then I my self The servant instantly Quitting the fruit seiz'd on my heart alone And threw it in a font wherein did fall A stream of bloud which issu'd from the side Of a great rock I well remember all And have good cause there it was dipt and di'd And washt and wrung the very wringing yet Enforceth tears Your heart was foul I fear Indeed 't is true I did and do commit Many a fault more then my lease will bear Yet still askt pardon and was not deni'd But you shall heare After my heart was well And clean and fair as I one even-tide I sigh to tell Walkt by my self abroad I saw a large And spacious fornace flaming and thereon A boyling caldron round about whose verge Was in great letters set AFFLICTION The greatnesse shew'd the owner So I went To fetch a sacrifice out of my fold Thinking with that which I did thus present To warm his love which I did fear grew cold But as my heart did tender it the man Who was to take it from me slipt his hand And threw my heart into the scalding pan My heart that brought it do you understand The offerers heart Your heart was hard I fear Indeed 't is true I found a callous matter Began to spread and to expatiate there But with a richer drug then scalding water I bath'd it often ev'n with holy bloud Which at a board while many drunk bare wine A friend did steal into my cup for good Ev'n taken inwardly and most divine To supple hardnesses But at the length Out of the caldron getting soon I fled â—nto my house where to repair the strength Which I had lost I hasted to my bed â—ut when I thought to sleep out all these faults I sigh to speak â— found that some had stuff'd the bed with thoughts â— would say thorns Deare could my heart not break When with my pleasures ev'n my rest was gone â—ull well I understood who had been there â—or I had giv'n the key to none but one â—t must be he Your heart was dull I fear â—ndeed a slack and sleepie state of minde Did oft possesse me so that when I pray'd Though my lips went my heart did stay behinde But all my scores were by another paid Who took the debt upon him Truly Friend For ought I heare your Master shows to you More favour then you woâ— of Mark the end The Font did onely what was old renew The Caldron suppled what was grown too hard The Thorns did quicken what was grown too dulls All did but strive to mend what you had marr'd Wherefore be cheer'd and praise him to the full Each day each houre each moment of the weekâ— Who fain would have you be new tender quick ¶ Mans medley HEark how the birds do sing And woods do ring All creatures have their joy and man hath his Yet if we rightly measure Mans joy and pleasure â—ather hereafter then in present is To this life things of sense Make their pretence In th' other Angels have a right by birth Man ties them both alone And makes them one With th' one hand touching heav'n with th' other eartâ— In soul he mounts and flies In flesh he dies He wears a stuffe whose thread is course and round But trimm'd with curious lace And should take place After the trimming not the stuffe and ground Not that he may not here Taste of the cheer But as birds drink and straight lift up their head So must he sip and think Of better drink He may attain to after he is dead But as his joyes are double So is his trouble He hath two winters other things but one Both frosts and thoughts do nip And bite his lip And he of all things fears two deaths alone Yet ev'n the greatest griefs May be reliefs Could he but take them right and in their wayes Happie is he whose heart Hath found the art To turn his double pains to double praise ¶ The Storm â—F as the windes and waters here below Do flie and flow â—y sighs and tears as busie were above Sure they would move And much affect thee as tempestuous times Amaze poore mortals and object their crimes â—â—arres have their storms ev'n in a high degree As well as we â— throbbing conscience spurred by remorse Hath a strange force â—t quits the earth and mounting more and more Dares to assault thee and besiege thy doore There it stands knocking to thy musicks wrong And drowns the song Glorie and honour are set by till it An answer get Poets have wrong'd poore storms such dayes are best They purge the aire without within the breast ¶ Paradise I Blesse thee Lord because I GROW Among thy trees which in a ROW To thee both fruit and order OW What open force or hidden CHARM Can blast my fruit or bring me HARM While the inclosure is thine ARM Inclose me still for fear I START Be to me rather sharp and TART Then let me want thy hand ART When thou dost greater judgements SPARE And with thy knife but prune and PARE Ev'n fruitfull trees more fruitfull ARE. Such sharpnes shows the sweetest FREND Such cuttings rather heal then REND And such beginnings touch their END ¶ The Method POore heart lament For since thy God refuseth still There is some rub some discontent Which cools his will Thy Father could Quickly effect what thou dost move For he is Power and sure he would For he is Love Go search this thing Tumble thy breast and turn thy book If thou hadst lost a glove or ring Wouldst thou not look What do I see Written above there Yesterday I did behave me carelesly When I did pray And should Gods eare To such indifferents chained be Who do not their own motions heare Is God lesse free But stay what 's there Late when I would have something done I had a motion to forbear Yet I went on And should Gods eare Which needs not man be ty'd to those Who heare not him but quickly heare His utter foes Then once more pray Down with thy knees up with thy voice Seek pardon first and God will say Glad heart rejoyce ¶ Divinitie AS men for fear the starres should sleep and nod And trip at night have spheres suppli'd As if a starre were duller then a clod Which knows his way without a guide Just so the other heav'n they also serve
precious bloud Gave you a colour once which when your foes Thought to let out the bleeding did you good And made you look much fresher then before But when debates and fretting jealousies Did worm and work within you more and more Your colour faded and calamities Turned your ruddie into pale and bleak Your health and beautie both began to break Then did your sev'rall parts unloose and start Which when your neighbours saw like a north-winde They rushed in and cast them in the dirt Where Pagans tread O Mother deare and kinde Where shall I get me eyes enough to weep As many eyes as starres since it is night And much of Asia and Europe fast asleep And ev'n all Africk would at least I might With these two poore ones lick up all the dew Which falls by night and poure it out for you ¶ Justice O Dreadfull Justice what a fright and terrour Wast thou of old When sinne and errour Did show and shape thy looks to me And through their glasse discolour thee He that did but look up was proud and bold The dishes of thy ballance seem'd to gape Like two great pits The beam and scape Did like some tort'ring engine show Thy hand above did burn and glow Danting the stoutest hearts the proudest wits But now that Christs pure vail presents the sight I see no fears Thy hand is white Thy scales like buckets which attend And interchangeably descend Lifting to heaven from this well of tears For where before thou still didst call on me Now I still touch And harp on thee Gods promises have made thee mine Why should I justice now decline Against me there is none but for me much ¶ The Pilgrimage I Travell'd on seeing the hill where lay My expectation A long it was and weary way The gloomy cave of Desperation I left on th' one and on the other side The rock of Pride And so I came to phansies medow strow'd With many a flower Fain would I here have made abode But I was quicken'd by my houre So to cares cops I came and there got through With much ado That led me to the wilde of passion which Some call the wold A wasted place but sometimes rich Here I was robb'd of all my gold Save one good Angell which a friend had ti'd Close to my side At length I got unto the gladsome hill Where lay my hope Where lay my heart and climbing still When I had gain'd the brow and top A lake of brackish waters on the ground Was all I found With that abash'd and struck with many a sting Of swarming fears I fell and cry'd Alas my King Can both the way and end be tears Yet taking heart I rose and then perceiv'd I was deceiv'd My hill was further so I flung away Yet heard a crie Just as I went None goes that way And lives If that be all said I After so foul a journey death is fair And but a chair ¶ The Holdfast I Threatned to observe the strict decree Of my deare God with all my power might But I was told by one it could not be Yet I might trust in God to be my light Then will I trust said I in him alone Nay ev'n to trust in him was also his We must confesse that nothing is our own Then I confesse that he my succour is But to have nought is ours not to confesse That we have nought I stood amaz'd at this Much troubled till I heard a friend expresse That all things were more ours by being his What Adam had and forfeited for all Christ keepeth now who cannot fail or fall ¶ Complaining DO not beguile my heart Because thou art My power and wisdome Put me not to shame Because I am Thy clay that weeps thy dust that calls Thou art the Lord of glorie The deed and storie Are both thy due but I a silly flie That live or die According as the weather falls Art thou all justice Lord Shows not thy word More attributes Am I all throat or eye To weep or crie Have I no parts but those of grief Let not thy wrathfull power Afflict my houre My inch of life or let thy gracious power Contract my houre That I may climbe and finde relief ¶ The Discharge BUsie enquiring heart what wouldst thou know Why dost thou prie And turn and leer and with a licorous eye Look high and low And in thy lookings stretch and grow Hast thou not made thy counts and summ'd up all Did not thy heart Give up the whole and with the whole depart Let what will fall That which is past who can recall Thy life is Gods thy time to come is gone And is his right He is thy night at noon he is at night Thy noon alone The crop is his for he hath sown And well it was for thee when this befell That God did make Thy businesse his and in thy life partake For thou canst tell If it be his once all is well Onely the present is thy part and fee. And happy thou If though thou didst not beat thy future brow Thou couldst well see What present things requir'd of thee They ask enough why shouldst thou further go Raise not the mudde Of future depths but drink the cleare and good Dig not for wo In times to come for it will grow Man and the present fit if he provide He breaks the square This houre is mine if for the next I care I grow too wide And do encroach upon deaths side For death each houre environs and surrounds He that would know And care for future chances cannot go Unto those grounds But through a Church-yard which thē boūds Things present shrink and die but they that spend Their thoughts and sense On future grief do not remove it thence But it extend And draw the bottome out an end God chains the dog till night wilt loose the chain And wake thy sorrow Wilt thou forestall it and now grieve to morrow And then again Greive over freshly all thy pain Either grief will not come or if it must Do not forecast And while it cometh it is almost past Away distrust My God hath promis'd he is just ¶ Praise KIng of Glorie King of Peace I will love thee And that love may never cease I will move thee Thou hast granted my request Thou haft heard me Thou didst note my working breast Thou hast spar'd me Wherefore with my utmost art I will sing thee And the cream of all my heart I will bring thee Though my sinnes against me cried Thou didst cleare me And alone when they replied Thou didst heare me Sev'n whole dayes not one in seven I will praise thee In my heart though not in heaven I can raise thee Thou grew'st soft and moist with tears Thou relentedst And when Justice call'd for fears Thou dissentedst Small it is in this poore sort To enroll thee Ev'n eternitie is too short To extoll thee ¶ An Offering COme bring thy gift If
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