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
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
Oh that I were an Orenge-tree That busie plant â—hen should I ever laden be And never want Some fruit for him that dressed me But we are still too young or old The man is gone Before we do our wares unfold So we freeze on Untill the grave increase our cold ¶ Deniall WHen my devotions could not pierce Thy silent eares Then was my heart broken as was my verse My breast was full of fears And disorder My bent thoughts like a brittle bow Did flie asunder Each took his way some would to pleasures go Some to the warres and thunder Of alarms As good go any where they say As to benumme Both knees and heart in crying night and day Come come my God O come But no hearing O that thou shouldst give dust a tongue To crie to thee And then not heare it crying all day long My heart was in my knee But no hearing Therefore my soul lay out of sight Untun'd unstrung My feeble spirit unable to look right Like a nipt blossome hung Discontented O cheer and tune my heartlesse breast Deferre no time That so thy favours granting my request They and my minde may chime And mend my ryme ¶ Christmas ALl after pleasures as I rid one day My horse and I both tir'd bodie and minde With full crie of affections quite astray I took up in the next inne I could finde â—ere when I came whom found I but my deare My dearest Lord expecting till the grief Of pleasures brought me to him readie there â—â—e all passengers most sweet relief Thou whose glorious yet contracted light Wrapt in nights mantle stole into a manger Since my dark soul and brutish is thy right Man of all beasts be not thou a stranger Furnish deck my soul that thou mayst have A better lodging then a rack or grave THe shepherds sing and shall I silent be My God no hymne for thee â—y soul 's a shepherd too a flock it feeds Of thoughts and words and deeds The pasture is thy word the streams thy grace Enriching all the place Shepherd and flock shall sing and all my powers Out-sing the day-light houres Then we will chide the sunne for letting night Take up his place and right We sing one common Lord wherefore he should Himself the candle hold â— will go searching till I finde a sunne Shall stay till we have done A willing shiner that shall shine as gladly As frost-nipt sunnes look sadly Then we will sing and shine all our own day And one another pay His beams shall cheer my breast and both so twine Till ev'n his beams sing and my musick shine ¶ Ungratefulnesse LOrd with what bountie and rare clemencie Hast thou redeem'd us from the grave If thou hadst let us runne Gladly had man ador'd the sunne And thought his god most brave Where now we shall be better gods then he Thou hast but two rare cabinets full of treasure The Trinitie and Incarnation Thou hast unlockt them both And made them jewels to betroth The work of thy creation Unto thy self in everlasting pleasure The statelier cabinet is the Trinitie Whose sparkling light accesse denies Therefore thou dost not show This fully to us till death blow The dust into our eyes For by that powder thou wilt make us see But all thy sweets are packt up in the other Thy mercies thither flock and flow That as the first affrights This may allure us with delights Because this box we know For we have all of us just such another But man is close reserv'd and dark to thee When thou demandest but a heart He cavils instantly In his poore cabinet of bone Sinnes have their box apart Defrauding thee who gavest two for one ¶ Sighs and Grones O Do not use me After my sinnes look not on my desert But on thy glorie then thou wilt reform And not refuse me for thou onely art The mightie God but I a sillie worm O do not bruise me O do not urge me For what account can thy ill steward make I have abus'd thy stock destroy'd thy woods Suckt all thy magazens my head did ake Till it found out how to consume thy goods O do not scourge me O do not blinde me I have deserv'd that an Egyptian night Should thicken all my powers because my lust Hath still sow'd fig-leaves to exclude thy light But I am frailtie and already dust O do not grinde me O do not fill me With the turn'd viall of thy bitter wrath For thou hast other vessels full of bloud A part whereof my Saviour empti'd hath Ev'n unto death since he di'd for my good O do not kill me But O reprieve me For thou hast life and death at thy command Thou art both Iudge and Saviour feast and rod Cordiall and Corrosive put not thy hand Into the bitter box but O my God My God relieve me ¶ The World LOve built a stately house where Fortune came And spinning phansies she was heard to say That her fine cobwebs did support the frame Whereas they were supported by the same But Wisdome quickly swept them all away Then Pleasure came who liking not the fashion Began to make Balcones Terraces Till she had weakned all by alteration But rev'rend laws and many a proclamation Reformed all at length with menaces Then enter'd Sinne and with that Sycomore Whose leaves first sheltred man from drought dew Working and winding slily evermore The inward walls and Sommers cleft and tore But Grace shor'd these and cut that as it grew Then Sinne combin'd with Death in a firm band To rase the building to the very floore Which they effected none could them withstand But Love and Grace took Glorie by the hand And built a braver Palace then before Coloss. 3.3 Our life is hid with Christ in God MY words thoughts do both expresse this notion That Life hath with the sun a double motion The first Is straight and our diurnall friend The other Hid and doth obliquely bend One life is wrapt In flesh and tends to earth The other winds towards Him whose happie birth Taught me to live here so That still one eye Should aim and shoot at that which Is on high Quitting with daily labour all My pleasure To gain at harvest an eternall Treasure ¶ Vanitie THe fleet Astronomer can bore And thred the spheres with his quick-piercing minde He views their stations walks from doore to doore Surveys as if he had design'd To make a purchase there he sees their dances And knoweth long before Both their full-ey'd aspects and secret glances The nimble Diver with his side Cuts through the working waves that he may fetch His dearely-earned pearl which God did hide On purpose from the ventrous wretch That he might save his life and also hers Who with excessive pride Her own destruction and his danger wears The subtil Chymick can devest And strip the creature naked till he finde The callow principles within their nest There he imparts to them his
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
bitter crosse Was ever grief c. 〈◊〉 crosse I bear my self untill I faint â—â—en Simon bears it for me by constraint â—â—e decreed burden of each mortall Saint Was ever grief c. 〈◊〉 all ye who passe by behold and see â—â—n stole the fruiâ— but I must climbe the tree The tree of life to all but onely me Was ever grief c. 〈◊〉 here I hang charg'd with a world of sinne â—â—e greater world o' th' two for that came in 〈◊〉 words but this by sorrow I must win Was ever grief c. Such sorrow as if sinfull man could feel 〈◊〉 feel his part he would not cease to kneel â—â—ll all were melted though he were all steel Was ever grief c. â—â—â—t O my God my God! why leav'st thou me The sonne in whom thou dost delight to be â—â—y God my God Never was grief like mine â—â—â—me tears my soul my bodie many a wound â—â—arp nails pierce this but sharper that confound â—eproches which are free while I am bound Was ever grief c. Now heal thy self Physician now come down Alas I did so when I left my crown And fathers smile for you to feel his frown Was ever grief like mine In healing not my self there doth consist All that salvation which ye now resist Your safetie in my sicknesse doth subsist Was ever grief c. Betwixt two theeves I spend my utmost breath As he that for some robberie suffereth Alas what have I stollen from you death Was ever grief c. A king my title is prefixt on high Yet by my subjects am condemn'd to die A servile death in servile companie Was ever grief c. They gave me vineger mingled with gall But more with malice yet when they did call With Manna Angels food I fed them all Was ever grief c. They part my garments and by lot dispose My coat the type of love which once cur'd those Who sought for help never malicious foes Was ever grief c. Nay after death their spite shall further go For they will pierce my side I full well know That as sinne came so Sacraments might flow Was ever grief c. But now I die now all is finished My wo mans weal and now I bow my head Onely let others say when I am dead Never was grief like mine ¶ The Thanksgiving OH King of grief a title strange yet true To thee of all kings onely due Oh King of wounds how shall I grieve for thee Who in all grief preventest me Shall I weep bloud why thou hast wept such store That all thy body was one doore Shall I be scourged flouted boxed sold 'T is but to tell the tale is told My God my God why dost thou part from me Was such a grief as cannot be Shall I then sing skipping thy dolefull storie And side with thy triumphant glorie Shall thy strokes be my stroking thorns my flowerâ— Thy rod my posie crosse my bower But how then shall I imitate thee and Copie thy fair though bloudie hand Stâ—â—dy I will reuenge me on thy love And trie who shall victorious prove If thou dost give me wealth I will restore All back unto thee by the poore If thou dost give me honour men shall see The honour doth belong to thee I will not marry or if she be mine She and her children shall be thine My bosome friend if he blaspheme thy name I will tear thence his love and fame One half of me being gone the rest I give Unto some Chappell die or live Aâ— for thy passion But of that anon When with the other I have done 〈◊〉 thy predestination I 'le contrive That three yeares hence if I survive I 'le build a spittle or mend common wayes But mend mine own without delayes Then I will use the works of thy creation As if I us'd them but for fashion The world and I will quarrell and the yeare Shall not perceive that I am here My musick shall finde thee and ev'ry string Shall have his attribute to sing That all together may accord in thee And prove one God one harmonie If thou shalt give me wit it shall appeare If thou hast giv'n it me 't is here Nay I will reade thy book and never move Till I have found therein thy love Thy art of love which I 'le turn back on thee O my deare Saviour Victorie Then for thy passion I will do for that Alas my God I know not what ¶ The Reprisall I Have consider'd it and finde There is no dealing with thy mighty passion For though I die for thee I am behinde My sinnes deserve the condemnation O make me innocent that I May give a disentangled state and free And yet thy wounds still my attempts defie For by thy death I die for thee Ah! was it not enough that thou By thy eternall glorie didst outgo me Couldst thou not griefs sad conquests me allow But in all vict'ries overthrow me Yet by confession will I come â—â—to the conquest Though I can do nought â—gainst thee in thee I will overcome The man who once against thee fought ¶ The Agonie PHilosophers have measur'd mountains â—â—thom'd the depths of seas of states and kings Walk'd with a staffe to heav'n and traced fountains But there are two vast spacious things The which to measure it doth more behove â—et few there are that sound them Sinne and Love Who would know Sinne let him repair â—nto mount Olivet there shall he see â— man so wrung with pains that all his hair His skinne his garments bloudie be â—nne is that presse and vice which forceth pain â—o hunt his cruell food through ev'ry vein Who knows not Love let him assay â—nd taste that juice which on the crosse a pike â—nd set again abroach then let him say If ever he did taste the like â—ove is that liquour sweet and most divine Which my God feels as bloud but I as wine ¶ The Sinner LOrd how I am all ague when I seek What I have treasur'd in my memorie Since if my soul make even with the week Each seventh note by right is due to thee I finde there quarries of pil'd vanities But shreds of holinesse that dare not venture To shew their face since crosse to thy decrees There the circumference earth is heav'n the centre In so much dregs the quintessence is small The spirit and good extract of my heart Comes to about the many hundredth part Yet Lord restore thine image heare my call And though my hard heart scarce to thee can grone Remember that thou once didst write in stone ¶ Good Friday O My chief good How shall I measure out thy bloud How shall I count what thee befell And each grief tell Shall I thy woes Number according to thy foes Or since one starre show'd thy first breath Shall all thy death Or shall each leaf Which falls in Autumne score a grief Or cannot leaves but fruit be signe Of the true vine Then let each
in ev'ry corner sing My God and King Vers. The heav'ns are not too high His praise may thither flie The earth is not too low His praises there may grow Cho. Let all the world in ev'ry corner sing My God and King Vers. The church with psalms must shouâ— No doore can keep them out But above all the heart Must bear the longest part Cho. Let all the world in ev'ry corner sing My God and King ¶ Love I. IMmortall Love authour of this great frame Sprung from that beautie which can never fade How hath man parcel'd out thy glorious name And thrown it on that dust which thou hast made While mortall love doth all the title gain Which siding with invention they together Bear all the sway possessing heart and brain Thy workmanship and give thee share in neither Wit fancies beautie beautie raiseth wit The world is theirs they two play out the game Thou standing by and though thy glorious nâ—â—â— Wrought our deliverance from th' infernall pit Who sings thy praise onely a skarf or glove Doth warm our hands and make them write 〈…〉 II. IMmortall Heat O let thy greater flame Attract the lesser to it let those fires Which shall consume the world first make it tamâ— And kindle in our hearts such true desires As may consume our lusts and make thee way Then shall our hearts pant thee then shall our brain All her invention on thine Altar lay And there in hymnes send back thy fire again Our eies shall see thee which before saw dust Dust blown by wit till that they both were blindâ— Thou shalt recover all thy goods in kinde Who wert disseized by usurping lust All knees shall bow to thee all wits shall rise And praise him who did make and mend our eies ¶ The Temper HOw should I praise thee Lord how should my rymes Gladly engrave thy love in steel If what my soul doth feel sometimes My soul might ever feel â—â—though there were some fourtie heav'ns or more Sometimes I peere above them all Sometimes I hardly reach a score Sometimes to hell I fall 〈◊〉 rack me not to such a vast extent Those distances belong to thee The world 's too little for thy tent A grave too big for me â—â—lt thou meet arms with man that thou dost stretch A crumme of dust from heav'n to hell Will great God measure with a wretch Shall he thy stature spell O let me when thy roof my soul hath hid O let me roost and nestle there Then of a sinner thou art rid And I of hope and fear Yet take thy way for sure thy way is best Stretch or contract me thy poore debter This is but tuning of my breast To make the musick better Whether I flie with angels fall with dust Thy hands made both and I am there Thy power and love my love and trust Make one place ev'ry where ¶ The Temper IT cannot be Where is that mightie joy Which just now took up all my heart Lord if thou must needs use thy dart Save that and me or sin for both destroy The grosser world stands to thy word and art But thy diviner world of grace Thou suddenly dost raise and race And ev'ry day a new Creatour art O fix thy chair of grace that all my powers May also fix their reverence For when thou dost depart from hence They grow unruly and sit in thy bowers Scatter or binde them all to bend to thee Though elements change and heaven move Let not thy higher Court remove But keep a standing Majestie in me ¶ Jordan WHo sayes that fictions onely and false hair Become a verse Is there in truth no beautiâ— Is all good structure in a winding stair May no lines passe except they do their dutie Not to a true but painted chair Is it no verse except enchanted groves And sudden arbours shadow course-spunne lines Must purling streams refresh a lovers loves Must all be vail'd while he that reades divines Catching the sense at two removes Shepherds are honest people let them sing Riddle who list for me and pull for Prime I envie no mans nightingale or spring Nor let them punish me with losse of ryme Who plainly say My God My King ¶ Employment IF as a flowre doth spread and die Thou wouldst extend me to some good â—â—fore I were by frosts extremitie Nipt in the bud The sweetnesse and the praise were thine But the extension and the room â—hich in thy garland I should fill were mine At thy great doom For as thou dost impart thy grace The greater shall our glorie be â—he measure of our joyes is in this place The stuffe with thee Let me not languish then and spend A life as barren to thy praise â—s is the dust to which that life doth tend But with delaies All things are busie onely I Neither bring hony with the bees Nor flowres to make that nor the husbandrie To water these I am no link of thy great chain But all my companie is a weed Lord place me in thy consort give one strain To my poore reed ¶ The H. Scriptures I. OH Book infinite sweetnesse let my heart Suck ev'ry letter and a hony gain Precious for any grief in any part To cleare the breast to mollifie all pain Thou art all health health thriving till it make A full eternitie thou art a masse Of strange delights where we may wish 〈◊〉 Ladies look here this is the thankfull glasse That mends the lookers eyes this is the well That washes what it shows Who can indâ—â—â— Thy praise too much thou art heav'ns Li 〈…〉 Working against the states of death and hell Thou art joyes handsell heav'n lies flat in theâ— Subject to ev'ry mounters bended knee II. OH that I knew how all thy lights combine And the configurations of their glorie Seeing not onely how each verse doth shine But all the constellations of the storie This verse marks thaâ— and both do make a motion Unto a third that ten leaves off doth lie Then as dispersed herbs do watch a potion These three make up some Christians destinie 〈◊〉 are thy secrets which my life makes good And comments on thee for in ev'ry thing Thy words do finde me out parallels bring 〈◊〉 in another make me understood Starres are poore books oftentimes do misse This book of starres lights to eternall blisse ¶ Whitsunday LIsten sweet Dove unto my song And spread thy golden wings in me Hatching my tender heart so long â—ll it get wing and flie away with thee Where is that fire which once descended On thy Apostles thou didst then Keep open house richly attended â—asting all comers by twelve chosen men Such glorious gifts thou didst bestow That th' earth did like a heav'n appeare The starres were coming down to know 〈◊〉 they might mend their wages and serve here The sunne which once did shine alone Hung down his head and wisht for night When he beheld twelve sunnes for one â—oing about 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
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
Perceiving that alone of all his treasure Rest in the bottome lay For if I should said he Bestow this jewell also on my creature He would adore my gifts in stead of me And rest in Nature not the God of Nature So both should losers be Yet let him keep the rest But keep them with repining restlesnesse Let him be rich and wearie that at least If goodnesse leade him not yet wearinesse May tosse him to my breast ¶ The Priesthood BLest Order which in power dost so excell That with th' one hand thou liftest to the sky And with the other throwest down to hell In thy just censures fain would I draw nigh Fain put thee on exchanging my lay-sword For that of th' holy word But thou art fire sacred and hallow'd fire And I but earth and clay should I presume To wear thy habit the severe attire My slender compositions might consume I am both foul and brittle much unfit To deal in holy Writ Yet have I often seen by cunning hand And force of fire what curious things are made Of wretched earth Where once I scorn'd to stand That earth is fitted by the fire and trade Of skilfull artists for the boards of those Who make the bravest shows But since those great ones be they ne're so great Come from the earth from whence those vessels come So that at once both feeder dish and meat Have one beginning and one finall summe I do not greatly wonder at the sight If earth in earth delight But th' holy men of God such vessels are As serve him up who all the world commands When God vouchsafeth to become our fare Their hands conucy him who conveys their hands O what pure things most pure must those things be Who bring my God to me Wherefore I dare not I put forth my hand To hold the Ark although it seem to shake Through th' old sinnes and new doctrines of our land Onely since God doth often vessels make Of lowly matter for high uses meet I throw me at his feet There will I lie untill my Maker seek For some mean stuffe whereon to show his skill Then is my time The distance of the meek Doth flatter power Lest good come short of ill In praising might the poore do by submission What pride by opposition ¶ The Search WHither O whither art thou fled My Lord my Love My searches are my daily bread Yet never prove My knees pierce th' earth mine eies the skie And yet the sphere And centre both to me denie That thou art there Yet can I mark how herbs below Grow green and gay As if to meet thee they did know While I decay Yet can I mark how starres above Simper and shine As having keyes unto thy love While poore I pine I sent a sigh to seek thee out Deep drawn in pain Wing'd like an arrow but my scout Returns in vain I tun'd another having store Into a grone Because the search was dumbe before But all was one Lord dost thou some new fabrick mold Which favour winnes And keeps thee present leaving th' old Unto their sinnes Where is my God what hidden place Conceals thee still What covert dare eclipse thy face Is it thy will O let not that of any thing Let rather brasse Or steel or mountains be thy ring And I will passe Thy will such an intrenching is As passeth thought To it all strength all subtilties Are things of nought Thy will such a strange distance is As that to it East and West touch the poles do kisse And parallels meet Since then my grief must be as large As is thy space Thy distance from me see my charge Lord see my case O take these barres these lengths away Turn and restore me Be not Almightie let me say Against but for me When thou dost turn and wilt be neare What edge so keen What point so piercing can appeare To come between For as thy absence doth excell All distance known So doth thy nearenesse bear the bell Making two one ¶ Grief O Who will give me tears Come all ye springs Dwell in my head eyes come clouds rain My grief hath need of all the watry things That nature hath produc'd Let ev'ry vein Suck up a river to supply mine eyes My weary weeping eyes too drie for me Unlesse they get new conduits new supplies To bear them out and with my state agree What are two shallow foords two little spouts Of a lesse world the greater is but small A narrow cupboard for my griefs and doubts Which want provision in the midst of all Verses ye are too fine a thing too wise For my rough sorrows cease be dumbe and mute Give up your feet and running to mine eyes And keep your measures for some lovers lute Whose grief allows him musick and a ryme For mine excludes both measure tune and time Alas my God! ¶ The Crosse. WHat is this strange and uncouth thing To make me sigh and seek and faint and die Untill I had some place where I might sing And serve thee and not onely I But all my wealth and familie might combine To set thy honour up as our designe And then when after much delay Much wrastling many a combate this deare end So much desir'd is giv'n to take away My power to serve thee to unbend All my abilities my designes confound And lay my threatnings bleeding on the ground One ague dwelleth in my bones Another in my soul the memorie What I would do for thee if once my grones Could be allow'd for harmonie I am in all a weak disabled thing Save in the sight thereof where strength doth sting Besides things sort not to my will Ev'n when my will doth studie thy renown Thou turnest th' edge of all things on me still Taking me up to throw me down So that ev'n when my hopes seem to be sped I am to grief alive to them as dead To have my aim and yet to be Farther from it then when I bent my bow To make my hopes my torture and the fee Of all my woes another wo Is in the midst of delicates to need And ev'n in Paradise to be a weed Ah my deare Father ease my smart These contrarieties crush me these crosse actions Doe winde a rope about and cut my heart And yet since these thy contradictions Are properly a crosse felt by thy sonne With but foure words my words Thy will be done ¶ The Flower HOw fresh O Lord how sweet and clean Are thy returns ev'n as the flowers in spring To which besides their own demean The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring Grief melts away Like snow in May As if there were no such cold thing Who would have thought my shrivel'd heart Could have recover'd greennesse It was gone Quite under ground as flowers depart To see their mother-root when they have blown Where they together AH the hard weather Dead to the world keep house unknown These are thy wonders Lord of
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
Man is out of order hurl'd Parcel'd out to all the world Lord thy broken consort raise And the musick shall be praise ¶ Judgement ALmightie Judge how shall poore wretches brook Thy dreadfull look Able a heart of iron to appall When thou shalt call For ev'ry mans peculiar book What others mean to do I know not well Yet I heare tell That some will turn thee to some leaves therein So void of sinne That they in merit shall excell But I resolve when thou shalt call for mine That to decline And thrust a Testament into thy hand Let that be scann'd There thou shalt finde my faults are thine ¶ Heaven O Who will show me those delights on high Echo I. Thou Echo thou art mortall all men know Echo No. Wert thou not born among the trees and leaves Echo Leaves And are there any leaves that still abide Echo Bide What leaves are they impart the matter wholly Echo Holy Are holy leaves the Echo then of blisse Echo Yes Then tell me what is that supreme delight Echo Light Light to the minde what shall the will enjoy Echo Ioy. But are there eares and businesse with the pleasure Echo Leisure Light joy and leisure but shall they persever Echo Ever ¶ Love LOve bade me welcome yet my soul drew back Guiltie of dust and sinne But quick-ey'd Love observing me grow slack From my first entrance in Drew nearer to me sweetly questioning If I lack'd any thing A guest I answer'd worthy to be here Love said you shall be he I the unkinde ungratefull Ah my deare I cannot look on thee Love took my hand and smiling did reply Who made the eyes but I Truth Lord but I have marr'd them let my shame Go where it doth deserve And know you not sayes Love who bore the blame My deare then I will serve You must sit down sayes Love and taste my meat So I did sit and eat FINIS Glorie be to God on high and on earth peace good will towards men ¶ The Church Militant ALmightie Lord who from thy glorious throne Seest and rulest all things ev'n as one The smallest ant or atome knows thy power Known also to each minute of an houre Much more do Common-weals acknowledge thee And wrap their policies in thy decree Complying with thy counsels doing nought Which doth not meet with an eternall thought But above all thy Church and Spouse doth prove Not the decrees of power but bands of love Early didst thou arise to plant this vine Which might the more indeare it to be thine Spices come from the East so did thy Spouse Trimme as the light sweet as the laden boughs Of Noahs shadie vine chaste as the dove Prepar'd and fitted to receive thy love The course was westward that the sunne might lighâ— As well our understanding as our sight Where th' Ark did rest there Abraham began To bring the other Ark from Canaan Moses pursu'd this but King Solomon Finish'd and fixt the old religion When it grew loose the Jews did hope in vain By nailing Christ to fasten it again But to the Gentiles he bore crosse and all Rending with earthquakes the partition-wall Onely whereas the Ark in glorie shone Now with the crosse as with a staffe alone Religion like a pilgrime westward bent Knocking at all doores ever as she went Yet as the sunne though forward be his flight Listens behinde him and allows some light Till all depart so went the Church her way Letting while one foot stept the other stay Among the eastern nations for a time Till both removed to the western clime To Egypt first she came where they did prove Wonders of anger once but now of love The ten Commandments there did flourish more Then the ten bitter plagues had done before Holy Macarius and great Anthonie Made Pharaoh Moses changing th' historie Gâ—shen was darknesse Egypt full of lights Nilus for monsters brought forth Israelites Such power hath mightie Baptisme to produce For things misshapen things of highest use How deare to me O God thy counsels are Who may with thee compare Religion thence fled into Greece where arts Gave her the highest place in all mens hearts Learning was pos'd Philosophie was set Sophisters taken in a fishers net Plato and Aristotle were at a losse And wheel'd about again to spell Christ-Crosse Prayers chas'd syllogismes into their den And Ergo was trasform'd into Amen Though Greece took horse as soon as Egypt did And Rome as both yet Egypt faster rid And spent her period and prefixed time Before the other Greece being past her prime Religion went to Rome subduing those Who that they might subdue made all their foes The Warrier his deere skarres no more resounds But seems to yeeld Christ hath the greater wounds Wounds willingly endur'd to work his blisse Who by an ambush lost his Paradise The great heart stoops and taketh from the dust A sad repentance not the spoils of lust Quitting his spear lest it should pierce again Him in his members who for him was slain The Shepherds hook grew to a scepter here Giving new names and numbers to the yeare But th' Empire dwelt in Greece to comfort them Who were cut short in Alexanders stemme In both of these Prowesse and Arts did tame And tune mens hearts against the Gospel came Which using and not fearing skill in th' one Or strenght in th' other did erect her throne Many a rent and struggling th' Empire knew As dying things are wont untill it flew At length to Germanie still westward bending And there the Churches festivall attending That as before Empire and Arts made way For no lesse Harbingers would serve then they So they might still and point us out the place Where first the Church should raise her down-cast face Strength levels grounds Arts makes a garden there Then showres Religion and makes all to bear Spain in the Empire shar'd with Germanie But England in the higher victorie Giving the Church a crown to keep her state And not go lesse then she had done of late Constantines British line mâ—ant this of old And did this mysterie wrap up and fold Within a sheet of paper which was rent From times great Chronicle and hither sent Thus both the Church and Sunne together ran Unto the farthest old meridian How deare to me O God thy counsels are Who may with thee compare Much about one and the same time and place Both where and when the Church began her race Sinne did set out of Eastern Babylon And travell'd westward also journeying on He chid the Church away where e're he came Breaking her peace and tainting her good name At first he got to Egypt and did sow Gardens of gods which ev'ry yeare did grow Fresh and fine deities They were at great cost Who for a god clearely a sallet lost Ah what a thing is man devoid of grace Adoring garlick with an humble face Begging his food of that which he may ear Starving the while he worshippeth his
take or be withstood Wherefore I all forgo To one word onely I say No Where in the deed there was an intimation Of a gift or donation Lord let it now by way of purchase go He that will passe his land As I have mine may set his hand And heart unto this deed when he hath read And make the purchase spread To both our goods if he to it will stand How happie were my part If some kinde man would thrust his heart Into these lines till in heav'ns court of rolls They were by winged souls Entred for both farre above their desert ¶ Conscience PEace pratler do not lowre Not a fair look but thou dost call it foul Not a sweet dish but thou dost call it sowre Musick to thee doth howl By listning to thy chatting fears I have both lost mine eyes and eares Pratler no more I say My thoughts must work but like a noiselesse sphere Harmonious peace must rock them all the day No room for pratlers there If thou persistest I will tell thee That I have physick to expell thee And the receit shall be My Saviours bloud when ever at his board I do but taste it straight it cleanseth me And leaves thee not a word No not a tooth or nail to scratch And at my actions carp or catch Yet if thou talkest still Besides my physick know there 's some for thee Some wood and nails to make a staffe or bill For those that trouble me The bloudie crosse of my deare Lord Is both my physick and my sword ¶ Sion LOrd with what glorie wast thou serv'd of old When Solomons temple stood and flourished Where most things were of purest gold The wood was all embellished With flowers and carvings mysticall and rare All show'd the builders crav'd the seers care Yet all this glorie all this pomp and state Did not affect thee much was not thy aim Something there was that sow'd debate Wherefore thou quitt'st thy ancient claim And now thy Architecture meets with sinne For all thy frame and fabrick is within There thou art struggling with a peevish heart Which sometimes crosseth thee thou sometimes it The fight is hard on either part Great God doth fight he doth submit All Solomons sea of brasse and world of stone Is not so deare to thee as one good grone And truly brasse and stones are heavie things Tombes for the dead not temples fit for thee But grones are quick and full of wings And all their motions upward be And ever as they mount like larks they sing The note is sad yet musick for a king ¶ Home COme Lord my head doth burn my heart is sick While thou dost ever ever stay Thy long deferrings wound me to the quick My spirit gaspeth night and day O shew thy self to me Or take me up to thee How canst thou stay considering the pace The bloud did make which thou didst waste When I behold it trickling down thy face I never saw thing make such haste O show thy self to me Or take me up to thee When man was lost thy pitie lookt about To see what help in th' earth or skie But there was none at least no help without The help did in thy bosome lie O show thy c. There lay thy sonne and must he leave that nest That hive of sweetnesse to remove Thraldome from those who would not at a feast Leave one poore apple for thy love O show thy c. He did he came O my Redeemer deare After all this canst thou be strange So many yeares baptiz'd and not appeare As if thy love could fail or change O show thy c. Yet if thou stayest still why must I stay My God what is this world to me This world of wo hence all ye clouds away Away I must get up and see O show thy c. What is this weary world this meat and drink That chains us by the teeth so fast What is this woman-kinde which I can wink Into a blacknesse and distaste O show thy c. With one small sigh thou gav'st me th' other day I blasted all the joyes about me And scouling on them as they pin'd away Now come again said I and flout me O show thy self to me Or take me up to thee Nothing but drought and dearth but bush and brake Which way so-e're I look I see Some may dream merrily but when they wake They dresse themselves and come to thee O show thy c. We talk of harvests there are no such things But when we leave our corn and hay There is no fruitfull yeare but that which brings The last and lov'd though dreadfull day O show thy c. Oh loose this frame this knot of man untie That my free soul may use her wing Which now is pinion'd with mortalitie As an intangled hamper'd thing O show thy c. What have I left that I should stay and grone The most of me to heav'n is fled My thoughts and joyes are all packt up and gone And for their old acquaintance plead O show thy c. Come dearest Lord passe not this holy season My flesh and bones and joynts do pray And ev'n my verse when by the ryme and reason The word is Stay sayes ever Come O show thy c. ¶ The British Church I Joy deare Mother when I view Thy perfect lineaments and hue Both sweet and bright Beautie in thee takes up her place And dates her letters from thy face When she doth write A fine aspect in fit aray Neither too mean nor yet too gay Shows who is best Outlandish looks may not compare For all they either painted are Or else undrest She on the hills which wantonly Allureth all in hope to be By her preferr'd Hath kiss'd so long her painted shrines That ev'n her face by kissing shines For her reward She in the valley is so shie Of dressing that her hair doth lie About her eares While she avoids her neighbours pride She wholly goes on th' other side And nothing wears But dearest Mother what those misse The mean thy praise and glorie is And long may be Blessed be God whose love it was To double-moat thee with his grace And none but thee ¶ The Quip THe merrie world did on a day With his train-bands and mates agree To meet together where I lay And all in sport to geere at me First Beautie crept into a rose Which when I pluckt not Sir said she Tell me I pray Whose hands are those But thou shalt answer Lord for me Then Money came and chinking still What tune is this poore man said he I heard in Musick you had skill But thou shalt answer Lord for me Then came brave Glorie puffing by In silks that whistled who but he He scarce allow'd me half an eie But thou shalt answer Lord for me Then came quick Wit and Conversation And he would needs a comfort be And to be short make an oration But thou shalt answer Lord for me