beeleeue him And for his goodnesse with my sinnes did grieue him I saw him faultlesse yet I did offend him I saw him wronged and yet did not excuse him I saw his foes yet sought not to defend him I had his blessings yet I did abuse him But was it mine or any others deed Whos 's ere it was it makes my heart to bleed To see the feete that traueld for our good To see the hands that brake the liuely bread To see the head whereon our honour stood To see the fruit where on our spirits fed These feet hands bored and his head all bleeding Who doth not dye with such a sorrow reading Hee plaest all rest yet had no resting place Hee healed each paine yet liud in sore distresse Deserud all good yet driuen to great disgrace Gaue all hearts ioy himselfe in heauinesse Suffered them liue by whome himselfe was slaine Lord who can liue to see such loue againe A Virgins childe by vertuous power conceiued A harmelesse man that liu'd for all mens good A faithfull friend that neuer faith deceiued A heauenly frute for heart especiall food A spirit all of excellence diuine Such is the essence of this loue of myne Whose Mansion heauen yet lay within a manger Who gaue all food yet suckt a virgins breast Who could haue kild yet fled a threatned danger who sought our quiet by his owne vnrest who dyed for them which highly did offend him And liues for them which can not comprehend him Who came no further then his father sent him Who did fullfill but what he did cōmand him Who praid for them that proudly did torment him For telling truth to what they did demand him Who did all good that humbly did intreat him And bare their blowes that did vnkindly beat him A sweet phisition for the body crased A heauenly medison for the minde diseased A present comfort for the wits amased A ioyfull spirit for the soule displeased The bodie minde wit and spirits ioye What is the world without him but annoy Hee knew the sicknesse that our soules infected And that his blood must onely bee our cure When so our faith his sacred loue affected that for our liues hee would a death indure Hee knew his passion yet his patience bare it Oh how my soule doth sorrow to declare it Hee heald the sick gaue sight vnto the blinde Speach to the dum and made the lame to goe Vnto his loue hee neuer was vnkinde Hee loued his friend and hee forgaue his foe And last his death for our loue not refused What soule could liue to see such loue misused To note his words what wisdome they containe To note his wisdome of all worth the wonder To note his works what glory they doe gaine To note his worth world heauen and earth come vnder To note the glory that his Angells giue him Fie that the world to such disgrace should driue him Vnseene hee came hee might bee seene vnto vs Vnwelcome seemd that came for all our wealth Hee came to die that hee might comfort doe vs VVee slew the subiect of our spirts health The subiect no the king of all our glory VVeep heart to death to tell this dolefull story A Lyon where his force should bee affected And yet a Lamb in mildnesse of his loue As true as Turtle to his loue elected Sure as mount Sion that can neuer moue So milde a strength and so fast truth to proue VVhat soule can liue and lack so sweet a loue Hee preacht hee praid hee fasted and hee wept The sweet creator for his sinfull creature The carefull watch full warely hee kept That brake the neck euen of their foulest nature And when hee did to happie state restore vs Shall wee not weepe that hee may not abhor vs To hate a loue must argue lothsome nature To wrong a friend must proue too foule a deede To kill thy selfe will shew a curssed creature To slay the soule no more damnation neede Then spoyle the fruit whereon the spirit feedeth O what a hell within the soule it breedeth Hee thought no ill but only did all good Hee gaue all right and yet all wrong receiued The fiends temptation strongly hee withstood Yet let himselfe by sinners bee deceiued And see at last when he was woe-be-gone him The traytorous world did tyranize vpon him His faultlesse members nayled on the crosse His holy head was crowned all with thornes His garments giuen by lots to gaine our losse His power derided all with scoffes and skornes His body wounded and his spirit vexed To thinke on this what soule is not perplexed Poore Peter wept when hee his name denied And Mary Magdalen wept for hir offence His mother wept when shee his death espied But yet no teares could stand for his defence But if these wept to see his wofull case Why die not I to think of his disgrace Happie was hee that suffered death so ny him That at his end repentance might behould him Twise happie life that did in loue so trie him As to his faith such fauour did vnsould him As crauing comfort but in mercies eyes That selfe same day did liue in Paradise Would I had beene ordaind to such a death To die with him to liue with him for euer And from the aire but of this blessed breath To suck the life whose loue might faile me neuer And drinck of that sweet spring that neuer wasteth And feede of that lifes bread that euer lasteth Oh would my soule were made a sen of teares Myne eies might wake and neuer more be sleeping My heart may beare the paines all pleasure weares So I might see him once yet in my weeping When ioyfull voice this song might neuer cease My Sauiours sight hath set my soule in peace Should I esteeme of any worldly toy That might beehould the height of such a treasure Could I bee Iudas to my chiefest ioy To gaine possession of a gracelesse pleasure No could my soule in comfort once conceiue him I hope his mercy would not let mee leaue him Blest was the fish that but the figure swallowed Of my sweet Iesus but in Ionas name More blessed tombe by that sweet body hallowed From whence the ground of all our glory came Might not my soule bee sooner in a wish Would I were such a tombe or such a fish But Ionas left the sea and came to land And Iesus from the earth to heauen ascended Why should I then vpon more wishes stand But cry for mercy where I haue offended And say my soule vnworthy is the place Euer to see my Sauiour in the face Yet let mee not despaire of my desire Although euen hell doe answere my desert Where humble hope that pittie doth aspire Proues penitencie the pacyfiing part Where mercy sweet that sees my soules behauiour May graunt mee grace to see and serue my Sauiour Whome till I see in sorrowes endlesse anguish All discontent with all that I can see Resolud in soule in sorrowes
THE PASSIONS of the SPIRIT LONDON Printed by Thomas Este dwelling in Aldersgate-streete 1599. TO THE WORSHIPFVL and vertuous gentlewoman M ris MARY HOVGHTON wife to the worshipfull M r Peter Houghton Esquire Alderman and novv one of the shrifes of London 1594. IT is the general receiued opinion amōg most men that nothing is more odious in the sight of god good men than vnthankfulnes And in deed the trees plants the earth it selfe which for the rain and labour that is beestowed vpon them yeelde foorth fruite shew themselues thankfull And therfore I was so bold right Worshipfull hauing receiued many fauours at your hands that I might not seeme to haue receiued them in vaine by vnthanfulnesse to offer vnto your worships hands this little present Greater men may easely offer greater gifts But if gifts may finde acceptance according to the good harts minds of the giuer I feare not but this little gift though small in view shall bee graciously accepted both because the matter is precious it proceedeth from a mind as willing to shew it thankefull as whosoeuer els that commends him selfe by a greater present And so wishing vnto your worshipful husband and your selfe all hearts content in this life euerlasting happines in the life to come humbly take my leaue Your worships at commaund Thomas Este. The passions of the spirit VVHere shall I finde that most morneful muse That neuer heard of any thing but mone And reade the passion that hir penne doth vse When shee and sorrow sadly sits alone To tell the world more then the world can tell What fits in deed most fitly figure hell Let mee not think once of the smallest thought Nor speake of lesse then of the greatest griefe Where euery sence with sorrows ouer wrought Liues but in death despairing of reliefe While thus the heart with torments torne asonder May of the world bee cald the wofull wonder The day lyke nights all darckned by distresse Pleasure beecome a subiect full of paine The spirit ouerprest with heauinesse While helplesse horror vexeth euery vaine Death shakes his dart griefe hath my graue prepared Yet to more sorrow is my spirit spared The Owly eyes that not indure the light The night rauens song that sounds of nought but death The Cockatrice that killeth with hir sight The poysoned ayre that chokes the sweetest breath Thunder and earthquakes all together met These tell a little how my life is set Where words desolu'd to sighes sighes into teares And euery teare to torments of the minde The mindes distresse into those deadly feares That finde more death then death it selfe can finde Death to that life that lyuing doth descrie A little more yet of my misery Put all the woes of all the world together Sorrow and death sit downe in all their pride Let misery bring all hir muses hether With all the horror that the hart can bide Then read the state but of my ruthfull story And say my griefe hath gotten sorrows glory For natures sicknesse somtime may haue ease Fortune though fickle somtime is a friend The minds affliction pacience may appease And death is cause that many torments end But euer sick crost greeu'd and liuing dying Think on the spirit in this sorrow lying To shew the nature of my paine alas Payne hath no nature to descrie my payne But where that paine it selfe in paine doth passe Think on vexation so in euery vaine That hopelesse helplesse endlesse paynes may tell Saue hell it selfe but myne there is no hell If sicknesse bee a grownd of deadly griefe Consuming cares haue caught mee by the heart If want of comfort hopelesse of reliefe Bee further woe to way my inward smart If friends vnkindnesse so my griefe is grounded If causelesse wronged so my heart is wounded If loue refused so read on my ruin If truth disgraced so my sorrow moued If faith abused the ground my torments grue in If vertue skorned so my death approued If death delaying so my heart perplexed If lyuing dying so my spirit vexed My infants yeeres mispent in childish toyes My riper age in rules of little reason My better yeeres in all mistaken ioyes My present time Oh most vnhappie season In fruitlesse labours and in ruthlesse loue O what a horror hath my hart to prooue I sigh to see mine infancie mis-spent I mourne to finde my youthfull life mis-led I weep to feele my further discontent I dye to trye my loue is liuing dead I sigh I mourne I weep I liuing dye And yet must liue to shew more miserie The hunted Hart somtime doth leaue the hound My hart alas is neuer out of chase The lime-hounds lease somtimes is yet vnbound My hands are hopelesse of so high a grace Sommer restores what winter doth depriue But my hart withered neuer can reuiue I can not figure sorrow in conceit Sorrow exceedes all figures of hir sence But on my woe when sorrowes all may wait To see a note exceed their excellence Let mee conclude to see how I am wounded Sorrow hir selfe is in hir selfe confounded But whereof growes the passion of this paine That thus perplexeth euery inward part Whence is the humor of this hatefull vaine So damps the spirit and consumes the hart Oh let my soule with bitter teares confesse It is the ground of all vnhappinesse If lack of wealth I am the note of need If lacke of friends no faith on earth remaines If lack of health see how my heart it bleeds If lack of pleasure looke vpon my paines If lack of wealth of friends of health or pleasure Say then my sorrowes must bee out of measure Measure no measure measure can my thought But that one thought that is beyond all measure Which knowing how my sorrowes haue ben wrought Can bring my heart into hir highest pleasure Which either must my sorrowes cut of quight Or neuer let mee think vpon delight There is a lack that tells mee of a life There is a losse that tells me of a loue Beetweene them both a state of such a strife As makes my spirit such a passion proue That lack of th one and thothers losse Alas Makes mee the wofullst wretch that euer was My dearest loue that dearest bought my loue My onely life by whom I onely liue Was euer faith did such affection proue Or euer grace did such a glory giue But such a lack and such a losse aye mee Must needes the sorrow of all sorrowes bee My loue is fayer and fayrer then the sunne Which hath his light but from his fayrest loue Oh fayrest loue whose light is neuer done and fairest light doth such a loue approue But such loue lost and such a life obscured Can there a greater sorrow bee indured Hee came from high to liue with mee beelow Hee gaue mee life and shewed mee greatest loue Vnworthie I so high a worth to know Left my chiefe blesse a baser choice to proue I saw his wonders yet did I not
lake to languish where no conceite but discontent may bee I will sit downe till after this worlds hell My sauiours sight may onely make mee well Canto 2. BVt shall I so my secret griefe giue ouer With hope to see the glory of my sight Or can my soule hir sacred health recouer While no desert doth looke vpon delight No no my hart is too too full of griefe For euer thinking to receiue reliefe The Sunne is downe the glory of the day The springe is past the sweetnesse of the yeere The haruest in whereon my hope did stay And withering winter giues but chilling cheere And what such death Can griefe or sorrow giue As see his death whereby the soule doth liue Mee thinks I see and seeing sigh to see How in his passion patience plaies hir part And in his death what life hee giues to mee In my loues sorrow to relieue my heart But what a care doth this conclusion trie The head must off or else the body die Hee was my head my hope my heart my health The speciall Iewell of my spirits ioy The trusty treasure of my highest wealth The onely pleasure kept mee from annoy Hee was and is and euermore shal bee In life or death the life of life to mee And let mee see how sweetly yet he lookes Euen while the teares are trickling downe his face And for my lyfe how well his death he brookes While my desert was cause of his disgrace And let me wish yet while his death I see I could haue died for him that died for mee Had I but seene him as his seruants dyd At sea at land in citie and in field Though in him selfe hee had the glory hyd That in his grace the height of glory hild Then might my sorrow some-what be appeased That once my soule had in his sight beene pleased But not to see him till I see him die And that my deed was causer of his death How can I cease to weepe to houle and crie To see the gasping of that glorious breath That purest loue vnto the soule approued And is the blessing of the soule beeloued Shall I not wash his body with my teares And saue the blood that issues from his side That keepes my heart from all infernall feares Vnto my soule by my firme faith applyed Shall I not striue with Ioseph for the course And make his tombe in my soules true remorse Shall I not cursse those hatefull hellish fiends That led the world to work such wickednesse And hate all them that haue not been his friends But follow on that work of wretchednesse Cut off the head that first hands on him layd And help to hang the dogge that him betrayd Am I not one of that vnhappie broode The Pellican doth figure in hir nest When I must liue but by his onely blood In whose sweet loue my life doth onely rest O wretched bird but I more wretched creature To figure such a bird in such a nature Dyd God himselfe ordaine it should bee so To saue my life my Sauiour so should die His will bee done yet let mee weepe for woe To bee the subiect of his miserie That though hee came to mend that was amisse Hee should bee so the author of my blisse Shall I not driue the watchman from the graue And watch the rising of the sonne renowmed Or goe my selfe a liue into the graue To kisse the body where it lies intombed What shall I doe or what shall I approue For my soules health that so my soule did loue Oh. Loue the ground of loue Oh liuely loue Why doe I liue that did not die with thee When in my heart I doe such horror prooue As lets my care no thought of comfort see How my poore soule might once such seruice do thee To giue mee hope how I am come vnto thee No I haue runne The way of wickednesse Forgetting that my faith should follow most I did not think vpon thy holinesse Nor by my sinne what sweetnesse I haue lost Oh sinne so sinne hath compast mee about That Lord I know not where to finde thee out If in the heauen it is too high a place For wicked heart to hope to clime so high If in the world the earth is all to base To entertaine thy glorious maiestie If in the world vnworthy I to read So sweet a sence to stand my soule in stead If in my heart sinne saith thou art not there If in my soule it is too foule infected If in my hope it is too full of feare And fearefull loue hath neuer faith elected In soule nor body hope nor seare aye mee Where should I seeke where my soules loue may bee Alas the day that euer I was borne To see how sinne hath bard mee from my blisse And that my soule is so in torments torne To know my loue and come not where hee is Yet if that euer heauens heard creatures cry Lord looke a little on my misery Let mercy plead in true repentance cause Where humble prayer may heauenly pittie moue That though my life haue broken sacred lawes My hearts contrition yet may comfort proue That till my soule may my sweet Sauiour see Mercie may cast one loueing looke on mee And while I sit with Mary at the graue As full of griefe as euer loue may liue My wounded hart some spark of hope may haue Of such reliefe as glorious hand may giue To make mee seele though sin hath death deserued In mercies loue is my soules life preserued Which sacred truth vntill my soule doth tast To slake the sorrow of this heart of myne My weary life in wofull thoughts must wast While soule and bodie humbly I resine Vnto those glorious holy hands of his Who is the hope of my eternall blisse Canto 3. BVt can I leaue to thincke vpon the thing That I can neuer put out of my thought Or can I cease of his sweet loue to sing Who by his blood his creatures comfort brought Or can I liue to thinck that he should die In whome the hope of all my life doth lie No Let mee thinck vpon his life and death And after death his euer life againe Hee breath'd our life and giueing vp his breath Reuiude our soules that in our sinnes were slaine His life so good as neuer death deserued And by his death our euer liues preserued Did hee not wash his poore Apostles feet Came hee not riding on a silly Asse Did hee not heale the criples in the streete And fed a world where little victuall was Did not his loue most true affection trye To die for vs that wee might neuer die Was neuer infant shew'd such humblenesse Was neuer man did speake as this man did Was neuer louer shew'd such faithfulnesse Was neuer true man such a torter byd Was neuer state contayned such a story Was neuer Angell worthy such a glory O glorious glory all in glory glorius Angells reioyced at his incarnation O power-full
king The Vnicorne doth kill the poisons power The roaring Bull doth make the woods to ring The Tiger doth the cruell wolfe deuouer The Elephant the weightie burden beares And rauening Wolues are good yet for their heires To see the Gray-hound course the Hart in chase While litle Dormouse sleepeth out hir time The Lambs and Rabits sweetly runne at base Whilst highest trees the little Squirell clime The crauling Wormes out creeping in the showers And how the Snayle doe clyme the loftie towers To see the Whale make furrowes in the seas While sodainely the Dolphin strikes hir dead Which hauing found the depth of his disease Vpon the shore doth make his dying bed Where heauens thus work for weaker hearts beehoue Doth not this grace a work of glory proue But since that all Skye Earth or Sea containes Was made for man and man was onely made For onely God who onely glory gaines And that one glory that can neuer fade Shall man forget to giue all glory due Vnto his God from whom all glory grew But let mee come a little higher yet To Sunne and Moone and euery Starre of light To see how each doe in this order sit Where euery one doth keepe his course aright And all to guide these darkned eies of ours Giue these not glory to the higher powers No let not man shew himselfe so vngratefull Vnto his God that all in loue did make him By thancklesse thoughts to make his spirit hatefull Vnto his king that neuer will forsake him But let his soule to God all glory giue In whome doth all loue life and glory liue And let mee wretch vnworthy most of all To lift mine eies vnto his louely seat Beefore the feete but of his mercy fall And of his mercy but the leaue intreate That with his seruants I may sit and sing An ALLELVIAH to my heauenly King Canto 6. COme all the world and call your wits together Borrow some pennes out of the Angells wings Intreate the heauens to send their Muses hether To help your soules to write of sacred things Prophane conceits must all bee cast away The night is past and you must take the day Speake not of sinne it beareth no part heere But write of grace and whence hir glory grue Think of the loue that to the life is deere And of the life to whome all loue is due And then sit downe in glory all to sing All to the glory of our glorious King First make your grounds of faithfull holinesse Then your deuisions of deuine desires Let all your rests bee hopes of happinesse Which mercies Musicke in the soule requires Let all your sharps bee feares of faithfull harts And all your flats the death of your desarts Yet rise and fall as hope and feare directs The nature of each note in space or line And let your voices carry such effects As may approue your passions are deuine Then let your consorts all in one agree To God alone all onely glory bee Then let the dittie bee the deerest thought That may reuiue the dying hart of loue That onely mercy in the soule hath wrought The happie comfort of the heauens to proue Then let your sounds vnto the heauens ascend And all your closes all in glory end Glory to him that sitteth on the throne With all the hoast of all the heauens attended Who all things made and gouernes all alone Vanquisht his foes and all his flock defended And by his power his chosen soules preserueth So sing his praise that so all praise deserueth And whilst all soules are to their glory singing Let mee poore wretch not wholly hold my peace But let my teares from mercie glory springing Keepe time to that sweet song may neuer seace That while my soule doth thus my God adore I may yet sing AMEN although no more Gloria in excelsis Deo Amen A Praier O Heauenly God ô father deere cast downe thy tender eie Vpon a wretch that prostrate heere before thy throne doth lye O poure thy precious oile of grace into my wounded heart O let the drops of mercy swage the rigor of my smart My fainted soule oppressed sore with carefull clogge of sinne In humble sute submits it selfe thy mercie Lord to winne Grant mercy then O sauiour sweet to mee most wofull thrall whose morneful cry to thee ô Lord doth still for mercy call Thy blessed will I haue despised vpon a stubborne minde And to the sway of worldly things my selfe I haue enclinde forgetting heauē heuēly powers where God saints doth dwell My life had like to tread the path that leads the way to hell But now my god loadstar bright I will no more doe so To think vpon my former life my heart doth bleed for woe Alack I sigh alack I sob alack I doe repent That euer my licencious will so wickedly was bent Sith now therfore with mournfull plaints that I thy mercie craue O Lord for thy great mercies sake let mee thy mercy haue Restore to life my wicked soule which else is like to die So shall my voice vnto thy name sing praise eternally Now blessed bee the Father first then blessed bee the Sonne And blessed bee the holy Ghost by whom all things are done Blesse mee O blessed Trinitie with thy eternall grace That after death my soule may haue in heauen a dwelling place FINIS A Praier WIth heauie hart I call to thee O Lord giue eare vnto my plaint In my distresse consider me mark how y t my soul doth faint Forlorne with care because that I so oft offend thy maiestie My due desert doth breed despaire hell I shall haue for my hier Vnles thou wilt thy wrath forbere to punish mee in thy iust yre But sith thy mercy passeth all For mercy Lord I cry and call And sith thou paidst y t blodie prise the fathers wrath to pacifie In thy great power strength arise forgiue my sinnes O Lord I cry lest y t my soul be brought to naught which once y hast so dereli bought Forgiue thy people all their crime whose aid on thee doth still depēd And with thy hand in this our time Our noble Queene O lord defend And that shee may hir foes deface powre vpon hir thy heauēly grace Amen FINIS MIEVI X. VAVLT MOVRIR IN. VERTV QVE VIVRE EN HONCTE LONDON Printed by Thomas Este dwelling in Aldersgate-streete 1599.