The Temple

Made of a heart, and cemented with teares: Whose parts are as thy hand did frame; No workmans tool hath touch'd the same.^

To praise thy name. That if I chance to hold my peace, These stones to praise thee may not cease.^ O let thy blessed Sacrifice be mine, And sanctifie this Altar to be thine.

/^H allye^ who passe by, whose eyes and minde To worldly things are sharp, but to me blinde;

To me, who took eyes that I might you finde: Was ever grief like mine? ^

The Princes of my people make a head Against their Maker: they do wish me dead. Who cannot wish, except I give them bread

Without me each one, who doth now me brave. Had to this day been an Egyptian slave. They use that power against me, which I gave:

Mine own Apostle, who the bag did beare, Though he had all I had, did not forbeare To sell me also, and to put me there:

For thirtie pence he did my death devise, Who at three hundred did the ointment prize. Not half so sweet as my sweet sacrifice:

Therefore my soul melts, and my hearts deare treasure

Drops bloud (the onely beads) my words to measure:

0 let this cup passcy if it he thy pleasure:

These drops being temper'd with a sinners tears, A Balsome are for both the Hemispheres: Curing all wounds, but mine; all, but my fears:

Yet my Disciples sleep: I cannot gain One houre of watching; but their drowsie brain Comforts not me, and doth my doctrine stain:

Arise, arise, they come. Look how they runne. Alas! what haste they make to be undone! How with their lanterns do they seek the sunne!

With clubs and staves they seek me, as a thief, Who am the way of truth, ^ the true relief; Most true to those, who are my greatest grief:

Judas ^ dost thou betray me with a kisse? Canst thou finde hell about my lips? and misse Of life, just at the gates of life and blisse?

See, they lay hold on me, not with the hands Of faith, but furie: yet at their commands I suffer binding, who have loos'd their bands:

All my Disciples flie; fear puts a barre Betwixt my friends and me. They leave the starre,

That brought the wise men of the East from farre.

Then from one ruler to another bound They leade me; urging, that it was not sound What I taught: Comments would the text confound.

The Priest ^ and rulers all false witnesse seek 'Gainst him, who seeks not life, but is the meek And readie Paschal Lambe of this great week:

Then they accuse me of great blasphemie. That I did thrust into the Deitie, Who never thought that any robberie: ^

Some said, that I the Temple to the floore In three dayes raz'd, and raised as before. Why, he that built the world can do much more:

Then they condemne me all with that same breath. Which I do give them daily, unto death. Thus Adam my first breathing rendereth: ^

They binde, and leade me unto Herod: he Sends me to Pilate. This makes them agree; But yet their friendship is my enmitie:

Herod and all his bands do set me light. Who teach all hands to warre, fingers to fight, And onely am the Lord of hosts and might:

Herod in judgement sits, while I do stand; Examines me with a censorious hand: I him obey, who all things else command:

The Jeivs accuse me with despitefulnesse; And vying malice with my gentlenesse. Pick quarrels with their onely happinesse:

I answer nothing, but with patience prove If stonie hearts will melt with gentle love. But who does hawk at eagles with a dove?

My silence rather doth augment their crie; My dove doth back into my bosome flie, Because the raging waters still are high: ^

Heark how they crie aloud still, Cructfie: It is not Jit he live a day^ they crie, Who cannot live lesse then eternally:

Pilate a stranger holdeth off; but they, Mine owne deare people, cry, Aivay^ away^ With noises confused frighting the day:

Yet still they shout, and crie, and stop their eares, Putting my life among their sinnes and fears, And therefore with my bloud on them and theirs:

See how spite cankers things. These words aright

Used, and wished, are the whole worlds light: But hony is their gall, brightnesse their night:

They choose a murderer, and all agree In him to do themselves a courtesie: For it was their own cause ^ who killed me:

And a seditious murderer he was: But I the Prince of peace; ^ peace that doth passe All understanding, ^ more then heav'n doth glasse: ^

Why, Cesar is their onely King, not I: He clave the stonie rock, when they were drie; ^ But surely not their hearts, as I well trie: ^

Ah! how they scourge me! yet my tendernesse Doubles each lash: and yet their bitternesse Windes up my grief to a mysteriousnesse: Was ever grief. Sec.

They buffet me,-^ and box me ^ as they list. Who grasp ^ the earth and heaven with my ^ fist. And never yet, whom I would punish, miss'd:

Behold, they spit on me in scornful! wise, Who by my spittle gave the blinde man eies, ^ Leaving his blindnesse to mine enemies:, tjsiim '.; Was ever grief like mine?

My face they cover, though it be divine. As Moses face was vailed, ^ so is mine. Lest on their double-dark souls either shine:

Servants and abjects flout me; they are wittie: Now prophesie ivho strikes thee, is their dittie. So they in me denie themselves all pitie:

And now I am deliver'd unto death, Which each one cals for so with utmost breath, That he before me well nigh sufFereth:

Weep not, deare friends, since I for both have wept

When all my tears were bloud, the while you slept;

Your tears for your own fortunes should be kept:

The souldiers lead me to the common hall; There they deride me, they abuse me all: Yet for twelve heav'nly legions I could call:

Then with a scarlet robe they me aray; Which shews my bloud to be the onely way, And cordiall left to repair mans decay:

Then on my head a crown of thorns I wear; For these are all the grapes Sion doth bear, Though I my vine planted and watred there:

So sits the earths great curse in Adams falH Upon my head: so I remove it all From th' earth unto my brows, and bear the thrall:

Then with the reed they gave to me before, ^ They strike my head, the rock ^ from whence all store

Of heav'nly blessings issue evermore: *

They bow their knees to me, and cry. Hail king: What ever scofFes or ^ scornfulnesse can bring, I am the floore, the sink, where they it fling:

Yet^ since mans scepters are as frail as reeds, And thorny all their crowns, bloudie their weeds; ^

I, "v^ho am Truth, turn into truth their deeds:

The souldiers also spit upon that ^ face, Which ^ Angels did desire to have the grace. And Prophets once to see, but found no place: Was ever grief, 6cc.

Thus trimmed forth they bring me to the rout. Who Crucifie him, crie with one strong shout. God holds his peace at man, and man cries out: ^

They leade me in once more, and putting then Mine own clothes on, they leade me out agen. Whom devils flie, thus is he toss'd of men:

And now wearie of sport, glad to ingrosse All spite in one, counting my life their losse. They carrie me to my most bitter crosse:

My crosse I bear my self, untill I faint: Then Simon bears it for me by constraint. The decreed burden of each mortall Saint: ^

0 all ye who passe hy^ behold and see;

Man stole the fruit, but I must climbe the tree;

The tree of life to all, but onely me:

Lo, here I hang, charg'd with a world of sinne, The greater world o' th' two; for that came in By words, but this by sorrow I must win: Was ever grief, 8cc.

Such sorrow, as if sinfull man could feel.

Or feel his part,^ he would not cease to kneel,

Till all were melted, though he were all steel;

But, 0 my God^ my God! why leav'st thou me. The Sonne, in whom thou dost delight to be? ^

Never was grief like mine.

Shame tears my soul, my bodie many a wound; ^ Sharp nails pierce this, but sharper that confound; Reproches, which are free, while I am bound.

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: ^

In healing not my self, there doth consist All that salvation, which ye ^ now resist; Your safetie in my sicknesse doth subsist:

Betwixt two theeves I spend my utmost breath. As he that for some robberie suffereth. Alas! what have I stollen from you? death:

A king my title is, prefixt on high; Yet by my subjects am condemn'd to die A servile death in servile companie:

They gave me vineger mingled with gall, But more with malice: yet, when they did call, With Manna, Angels food, I fed them all:

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:

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:

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.

/^H 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?

'Tis but to tell the tale is told. 3Iy Gody my Gody why dost thou part from me P

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 flower?

Thy rod, my posie? crosse, my bower? But how then shall I imitate thee, and

Copie thy fair, though bloudie hand? Surely 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. As for thy ^ passion — But of that anon,

When with the other I have done. For 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

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, 'tis here. Nay, I will reade thy book, and never move

Till I have found therein thy love; ^ Thy art of love, which Fie turn back on thee,

O my deare Saviour, Victorie! Then for thy passion — I will do for that —

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 1 was it not enough that thou By thy eternall glorie didst outgo me? Couldst thou not griefs sad conquests me allow.

But in all victories overthrow me?

Yet by confession will I come Into the 1 conquest. Though I can do nought Against thee, in thee will I overcome

The man, who once against thee fought.

PHILOSOPHERS have measur'd ^ mountains, Fathom'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: Yet few there are that found them; Sinne and Love.

Who would know Sinne, let him repair Unto Mount Olivet; there shall he see A man so wrung with pains, that all his hair,

His skinne, his garments bloudie be,

Sinne is that presse and vice, which forceth pain To hunt his cruell food through ev'ry vein.

Who knows not Love, let him assay And taste that juice, which on the crosse a pike Did set again abroach; then let him say

If ever he did taste the like. Love is that liquor sweet and most divine, Which my God feels as bloud; but I, as wine.

T ORD, 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 dai*e 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.

o MY chief good, How shall I measure out thy bloud? How shall I count what thee befell,

Shall I thy woes Number according to thy foes? Or, since one starre show'd thy first breath,

Or shall each leaf, Which falls in Autumne, score a grief? Or cannot leaves, but fruit, be signe

Then let each houre Of my whole life one grief devoure; That thy distresse through all may runne,

Or rather let My severall sinnes their sorrows get; That as each beast his cure doth know,

Since 1 bloud is fittest, Lord, to write Thy sorrows in, and bloudie fight; My heart hath store, write there, where in One box doth lie both ink and sinne:

That when sinne spies so many foes, Thy whips, thy nails, thy wounds, thy woes, All come to lodge there, sinne ^ may say. No room for me, and flie away.

Sinne ^ being gone, oh fill the place. And keep possession with thy grace; Lest sinne take courage and return, And all the writings blot or burn.

1_JAVING been tenant long to a rich Lord ^ ^ Not thriving, I resolved to be bold, And make a suit unto him, to afford A new small-rented lease, and cancell th' old.

In heaven at his manour I him sought:

They told me there, that he was lately gone

About some land, which he had dearly bought

Long since on earth, to take possession.

I straight returned, and knowing his great birth. Sought him accordingly in great resorts; In cities, theatres, gardens, parks, and courts:

At length I heard a ragged noise and mirth

Of theeves and murderers: there I him espied,

» Who straight. Tour suit is granted^ said, and died.

r\ BLESSED bodie! Whither art thou thrown?

No lodging for thee, but a cold hard stone? So many hearts on earth, and yet not one Receive thee?

Sure there is room within our hearts good store; For they can lodge transgressions by the score: Thousands of toyes dwell there, yet out of doore They leave thee.

But that which shews them large, shews them unlit.

What ever sinne did this pure rock commit, Which holds thee now? Who hath indited it Of murder?

Where our hard hearts have took up stones to brain thee,

And missing this, most falsly did arraigne thee; Onely these stones in quiet entertain thee. And order.

And as of old, the law by heav'nly art Was writ in stone; so thou, which also art The letter of the word, find'st no fit heart To hold thee.

Yet do we still persist as we began, And so should perish, but that nothing can, Though it be cold, hard, foul, from loving man Withold thee.

ID ISE heart; thy Lord is risen. Sing his "''^ praise

Without delayes, Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise

With him mayst rise: That, as his death calcined thee to dust, His life may make thee gold, and much more just.

Awake, my lute, and struggle for thy part With all thy art.

The crosse taught ail wood to resound his name. Who bore the same.

His streched sinews taught all strings,, what key

Is best to celebrate this most high day.

Consort both heart and lute, and twist a song Pleasant and long:

Or since all musick is but three parts vied And multiplied;

O let thy blessed Spirit bear a part,

And make up our defects with his sweet art.

1 1 got me flowers to straw thy way;

I got me boughs ofF many a tree:

But thou wast up by break of day,

And brought' St thy sweets along with thee.

The Sunne arising in the East,

Though he give light, and th' East perfume;

If they should offer to contest

With thy arising, they presume.

Can there be any day but this. Though many sunnes to shine endeavour? We count three hundred, but we misse; There is but one, and that one ever.

A S he that sees a dark and shadie grove,

Stayes not, but looks beyond it on the skie; So when I view my sinnes, mine eyes remove More backward still, and to that water flie.

Which is above the heav'ns, whose spring and rent Is in my deare Redeemers pierced side.^ O blessed streams! either ye do prevent

And stop our sinnes from growing thick and wide,

Or else give tears to drown them, as they grow. In you Redemption measures all my time. And spreads the plaister equall to the crime:

You taught the book of life my name, that so

What ever future sinnes should me miscall. Your first acquaintance might discredit alL

Since, Lord, to thee A narrow way and little gate ^ Is all the passage, on my infancie

Thou didst lay hold, and antedate

O let me still Write thee great God, and me a childe; Let me be soft and supple to thy will.

Small to my self, to others milde, Behither ilL2

Although 2 by stealth My flesh get on, yet let her sister My soul bid nothing, but preserve her ^ wealth: The growth of flesh is but a blister; Childhood is health.

Or fight, or travell, or denie That thou hast ought to do with me.

O tame my heart; It IS thy highest art To captivate strong holds to thee.^

If thou shalt let this venome lurk, And in suggestions fume and work. My soul will turn to bubbles straight.

And thence by kinde Vanish into a winde. Making thy workmanship deceit.

O smooth my rugged heart, and there Engrave thy rev'rend law and fear; Or make a new one, since the old

Is saplesse grown. And a much fitter stone To hide my dust, then thee to hold.

LORD, with what care hast thou begirt us round!

Parents first season us: then schoolmasters Deliver us to laws; they send us bound To rules of reason^ holy messengers,

Pulpits and sundayes, sorrow dogging sinne, Afflictions sorted, anguish of all sizes, Fine nets and strategems ^ to catch us in,

Bibles laid open, millions of surprises,

Blessings beforehand, tyes of gratefulnesse, The sound of glorie ringing in our eares: Without, our shame; within, our consciences;

Angels and grace, eternall hopes and fears.

Yet 2 all these fences and their whole array One cunning bosome-sinne blows quite away.

"\'\7'HEN first thou didst entice to thee my heart,

I thought the service brave: So many joyes I writ down for my part.

Besides what I might have Out of my stock of naturall delights. Augmented with thy gracious benefits.^

I looked on thy furniture so fine,^

Thy glorious houshold-stuffe did me entwine,^ And 'tice me unto thee.^

Such starres I counted mine: both heav'n and earth

Payd me my wages in a world of mirth.

What pleasures could I want, whose King I served?

Where joyes my fellows were. Thus argu'd into hopes, my thoughts reserved

No place for grief or fear.^ Therefore my sudden soul caught at the place. And made her youth and fiercenesse seek thy face.

At first thou gav'st me milk and sweetnesses;

I had my wish and way: My dayes were straw' d with flow'rs and happi« nesse;

There was no moneth but May, But with my yeares sorrow ^ did twist and grow. And made a partie unawares for wo.

My flesh began unto my soul in pain.

Sicknesses cleave my bones;

Consuming agues dwell in ev'ry vein.

And tune my breath to grones.^

Sorrow was all my soul; I scarce beleeved,

Till grief did tell me roundly, that 1 lived.^

When I got health, thou took'st away my life, And more; for my friends die 'A

My mirth and edge was lost; a blunted knife Was of more use then I.

Thus thinne and lean without a fence or friend,

I was blown through 2 with ev'ry storm and winde.

Whereas my birth and spirit rather took

The way that takes the town; ^

Thou didst betray me to a lingring book, And wrap me in a gown.

I was entangled in the world of strife,

Before I had the power to change my life.

Yet, for I threatned oft the siege to raise, Not simpring all mine age,

Thou often didst with Academick praise Melt and dissolve my rage.

I took thy sweetned pill, till I came neare;

I could not go away, nor persevere."^

Yet lest perchance I should too happie be

In my unhappinesse, Turning my purge to food, thou throwest me

Into more sicknesses. ^ Thus doth thy power crosse-bias ^ me, not making

Thine own gift good, yet me from my wayes taking.

Now I am here, what thou wilt do with me None of my books will show:

For sure then I should grow

To fruit or shade: at least some bird would trust

Her houshold to me, and I should be just.

Yet, though thou troublest me, I must be meek;

In weaknesse must be stout. Well, I will change the service, and go seek

Some other master out. Ah my deare God! ^ though I am clean forgot. Let me not love thee, if I love thee not.^

T ORD, I confesse my sinne is great;

Great is my sinne. Oh! gently treat With thy quick flow'r, thy momentanie ^ bloom;

Whose life still pressing Is one undressing, A steadie aiming at a tombe.

Mans age is two houres work, or three: Each day doth round about us see. Thus are we to delights: but we are all To sorrows old,^ If life be told From what life feeleth, Adams falL

O let thy height of mercie then Compassionate short-breathed men. Cut me not off for my most foul transgression: I do confesse My foolishnesse; My God, accept of my confession.

Sweeten at length this bitter bowl, Which thou hast pour'd into my soul; Thy wormwood turn to health, windes to fair weather:

For if thou stay, I and this day, As we did rise, we die together.

When thou for sinne rebukest man, Forthwith he waxeth wo and wan: Bitternesse fills our bowels; all our hearts Pine, and decay. And drop away. And Carrie with them th' other parts. ^

But thou wilt sinne and grief destroy; That so the broken bones may joy,^ And tune together in a well-set song.

Full of his praises. Who dead men raises. Fractures well cur'd make us more strong.

T ORD, how couldst thou so mucn appease -■^ Thy wrath for sinne, as when mans sight was dimme. And could see little, to regard his ease.

And bring by Faith all things to him?

Hungrie I was, and had no meat: I did conceit a most delicious feast; I had it straight, and did as truly eat,

As ever did a welcome guest.

There is a rare outlandish root. Which when I could not get, I thought it here: That apprehension cur'd so well my foot,

That I can walk to heaven well neare.

I owed thousands and much more: I did beleeve that I did nothing owe,.And liv'd accordingly; my creditor Beleeves so too, and lets me go.^

Faith makes me any thing, or all That I beleeve is in the sacred storie: And where sinne placeth ^ me in Adams fall.

Faith sets me higher in his glorie.

If I go lower in the book. What can be lower then the common manger? Faith puts me there with him, who sweetly took

Our flesh and frailtie, death and danger.^

If blisse had lien in art or strength, None but the wise or strong had gained it: Where now by Faith all arms are of a length;

One size doth all conditions fit.

A peasant may beleeve as much As a great Clerk, and reach the highest stature. Thus dost thou make proud knowledge bend^ and crouch

While grace fills up uneven nature.

When creatures had no reall light Inherent in them, thou didst make the sunne, Impute a lustre, and allow them bright;

And in this shew,^ what Christ hath done.

That which before was darkned clean With bushie groves, pricking the lookers eie, • Vanisht away, when Faith did change the scene:

And then appear'd a glorious skie.

What though my bodie runne to dust? Faith cleaves unto it, counting evr'y grain With an exact and most particular trust,

Reserving all for flesh again.

ORAYER the Churches banquet. Angels age, Gods breath in man returning to his birth. The soul in paraphrase, heart in pilgrim- ^age,

The Christian plummet sounding heav'n and earth;

The six-daies-world transposing in an houre,^ A kinde of tune, which all things heare and fear;

Exalted Manna, gladnesse of the best. Heaven in ordinarie, man well drest. The milkie way, the bird of Paradise,

Church- bel 8 beyond the starres heard, the souls bloud,

The land of spices; something understood.

Thou, who from me wast sold. To me dost now thy self convey; For so thou should' st without me still have been. Leaving within me sinne:

But by the way of nourishment and strength Thou creep' St into my breast; Making thy way my rest. And thy small quantities my length;

Which spread their forces into every part, Meeting sinnes force and art.

Yet can these not get over to my soul, Leaping the wall that parts Our souls and fleshly hearts; But as th' outworks, they may controll

My rebel-flesh, and carrying thy name,

AflFright both sinne and shame.

Onely thy grace, which with these elements comes,

Knoweth the ready way. And hath the privie key, Op'ning the souls most subtile rooms; While those to spirits refin'd, at doore attend Dispatches from their friend.

Give 1 me my captive soul, or take My bodie also thither.

Another lift like this will make Them both to be together.

Before that sinne turn'd flesh to stone, And all our lump to leaven;

A fervent sigh might well have blown Our innocent earth to heaven.

For sure when Adam did not know To sinne, or sinne to smothery

He might to heav'n from Paradise go, As from one room t' another.

Thou^ hast restored us to this ease By this thy heav'nly bloud;

Which I can go to, when I please.

And leave th' earth to their food.

Cho. T ET all the world 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 shout. 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,

TMMORTALL 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 2 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 name

Wrought our deliverance from th' infernall pit,

Who sings thy praise? onely a skarf or glove Doth warm our hands, and make them write of love.

TMMORTALL Heat, O let thy greater ^ flame

Attract the lesser to it: let those fires, Which shall consume the world, first make it tame;

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 blinde:

Thou shalt recover all thy goods in kinde, Who wert disseized by usurping lust:

All knees shall bow to thee; all wit shall rise.

And praise him who did make and mend our eies.

TJOW 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!

Although 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.

O 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.

Wilt 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.

TT 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 Majestic in me.

'Y\7'HO sayes that fictions onely and false hair ^ ^ Become a verse? Is there in truth no beautie?

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 i

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 Gody My King.

TF as a flowre doth spread and die,

Thou wouldst extend me to some good. Before I were by frosts extremitie

The sweetnesse and the praise were thine; But the extension and the room, Which 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. The measure of our joyes is in this place,

Let me not languish then, and spend A life as barren to thy praise. As 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 in thy great chain, But all my companie is a weed.^

Lord place me in thy comfort; give one strain

,H Book 1 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 and take.

Ladies, look here; this is the thankfull glasse.

That mends the lookers eyes; this is the well That washes what it shows. Who can indeare

Thy praise too much? ^ thou art heav'ns Lidger^ here, Working against the states of death and hell.

Thou art joyes handsell: heav'n lies flat in thee,

Subject to ev'ry mounters bended knee.

/^H 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 that, and both do make a motion

Unto a third, that ten leaves off doth lie: 3

Then as dispersed herbs do watch ^ a potion,

These three make up some Christians destinie:

Such are thy secrets, which my life makes good. And comments on thee: ^ for in ev'ry thing Thy words do finde me out, and parallels bring.

And in another make me understood.

Starres are poore books, and oftentimes do misse:

This book of starres lights to^ eternall blisse.

T ISTEN^ sweet Dove unto my song.

And spread thy golden wings in me; Hatching my tender heart so long. Till 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, Feasting 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 If they might mend their wayes, and serve here.

The 2 sunne, which once did shine alone, Hung down his head, and wisht for night. When he beheld twelve sunnes for one Going about the world, and giving light.

But since those pipes of gold,^ which brought That cordial 1 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 i And if the braves ^ of conquering 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.

If still the sunne ^ should hide his face. Thy house would but ^ a dungeon prove. Thy works nights captives: O let grace

The dew doth ev'ry morning fall; And shall the dew out-strip thy dove? The dew, for which grasse cannot call.

Death ^ is still working like a mole, And digs my grave at each remove: Let grace work too, and on my soul

Unto a hardnesse, void of love: Let suppling grace, to crosse his art,

O come! for thou dost know the way. Or if to me thou wilt not move, Remove me, where I need not say,

'TpO write a verse or two, is all the praise. That I can raise: Mend my estate in any wayes. Thou shalt have more.

I go to Church; help me to wings, and I ^ Will thither flie; Or, if I mount unto ^ the skie, I will do more.

Sinne is still hammering my heart

Man 1 is all weaknesse; there is no such thing As Prince or King: His arm is short; yet with a sling He may do more.

An 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 I poore bees, that work all day. Sting my delay, Who have a work, as well as they, And much, much more.

Kill me not ev'ry day. Thou Lord of life; since thy one death for me Is more then all my deaths can be,

Though I in broken pay Die 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 thine?

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.

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.

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 It wants the good of verfue, and of hemg.

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.^

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 discharged the debt, Which this dayes favour did beget? I ranne; but all I brought, was fome.

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 disordered 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.

T E 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 leat, and Marble put for signes,

To sever the good fellowship of dust, And spoil the meeting. What shall point out them,

When they shall bow, and kneel, and fall down flat

To kisse those heaps, which now they have in trust? Deare flesh, while I do pray, learne here thy stemme

And true descent; that when thou shalt grow fat,

And wanton in thy cravings, thou mayst know, That flesh is but the glasse, which holds the dust That measures all our time; which also shall Be crumbled ^ into dust. Mark here below How tame these ashes are, how free from lust, That thou mayst fit thyself against thy fall.

CWEETEST of sweets, I thank you: when ^ displeasure

Did through my bodie wound myminde. You took me thence, and in your house of pleasure

A daintie lodging me assigned.

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, 'He 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.

T KNOW it is my sinne, which locks ^ thine eares,

And bindes thy hands; Out-crying my requests, drowning my tears; Or else the chilnesse of my faint demands.^

But ^ as cold hands are angrie with the fire. And mend ^ it still;

So I do lay the want of my desire,

Not on my sinnes, or coldnesse, but thy will.

Yet ^ heare, O God,, onely for his blouds sake

Which pleads for me: For though sinnes plead too, yet like stones they make

His blouds sweet current much more loud to be.

A/fARK you the floore? that square and speckled stone,

Which looks so firm and strong. Is Patience:

And th' other black and grave, wherewith each one

The gentle rising, which on either hand Leads to the Quire above, Is Confidence;

But the sweet cement, which in one sure band Ties the whole frame, is Lo've And Char'itie,

Hither sometimes Sinne steals, and stains The marbles neat and curious veins:

But all is cleansed when the marble weeps.

Sometimes Death, puffing at the doore, Blows all the dust about the floore;

But while he thinks to spoil the room, he sweeps. Blest be the Architect^ whose art Could build so strong in a weak heart.

LORD, how can man preach thy eternal! word?

He is a brittle crazie glasse: Yet in thy temple thou dost him afford

This glorious and transcendent place. To be a window, through thy grace.

But when thou dost anneal ^ in glasse thy storie. Making thy life to shine within

The holy Preachers; then the light and glorie More reverend grows, and more doth win;

Which else shows watrish, bleak, and thin.

Doctrine and life, colours and light, in one

When they com.bine and mingle, bring

A strong regard and aw: but speech alone Doth vanish like a flaring thing. And in the eare, not conscience ring.

T ORD, who hast form'd me out of mud,i

And hast redeemM me through thy bloud, And sanctifi'd me to do good;

Purge all my sinnes done heretofore: For I confesse my heavie score, And I will strive to sinne no more.

Enrich my heart, mouth, hands in me.

With faith, with hope, with charitie. That I may runne, rise, rest with thee.

pEACE mutt'ring thoughts, and do not ^ grudge to keep

Within the walls of your own breast: Who cannot on his own bed sweetly sleep.

Can on anothers hardly rest.

Gad not abroad at ev'ry quest and call

Of an untrained hope or 2 passion.

To court each place or fortune that doth ^ fall. Is wantonnesse in contemplation.

Mark how the fire in flints ^ doth quiet lie. Content and warm t' it self alone:

But when it would appeare to others eye. Without a knock it never shone.

Give me the pliant minde, whose gentle measure

Complies and suits with all estates; Which can let loose to a crown, and yet with pleasure

Take up within a cloisters gates.^

This soul doth span the world, and hang content From either pole unto the centre:

Where in each room of the well-furnisht tent

He lies warm, and without adventure.

The brags of life are but a nine dayes wonder;

And after death the fumes that spring From private bodies, make as big a thunder.

As those which rise from a huge King.

Onely thy Chronicle is lost; and yet

Better by worms be all once spent.

Then to have hellish moths still gnaw and fret Thy name in books, which may not rent:

When all thy deeds,whose brunt thou feel'st alone, Are chaw'd by others pens ^ and tongue;

And as their wit is, their digestion.

Thy nourisht fame is weak or strong.

Then cease discoursing soul, till thine own ground. Do not thy self or friends importune.

He that by seeking hath himself once found. Hath euer found a happie fortune.

liyTY God, a verse is not a crown,

No point of honour, or gay suit, No 2 hawk, or ^ banquet, or ^ renown, Nor a good sword, nor yet a lute:

It cannot vault, or dance, or play; It never was in France or Spain; Nor can it entertain the day With a ^ great stable or demain:

It is no office, art, or news, Nor the Exchange, or busie Hall; But it is that which while I use I am with thee, and Most take all.

T SAW the Vertues sitting hand in hand In sev'rall ranks upon an azure throne. Where all the beasts and fowls by their command Presented tokens of submission.

Humilitie, who sat the lowest there

When by the beasts the presents tendred were, Gave them about to all.

The angrie Lion did present his paw, AVbich by consent was giv'n to Mansuetude. The fearfull Hare her eares, which by their law Humilitiie did reach to Fortitude. The jealous Turkie brought his corall-chain;

That went to Temperance. On Justice was bestow'd the Foxes brain,

Kill'd in the way by chance.

At length the Crow bringing the Peacocks plume, (For he would not) as they beheld the grace Of that brave gift, each one began to fume. And challenge it, as proper to his place, Till they fell out: which when the beasts espied.

They leapt upon the throne; And if the Fox had livM to rule their side.

They had depos'd each one.

Humilitie, who held the plume, at this Did weep so fast, that the tears trickling down SpoiFd all the train: then saying. Here it is For <which ye <wr angle ^ made them turn their frown

Against the beasts: so joyntly bandying.

They drive them soon away;

And then amerc'd them, double gifts to bring At the next Session-day.

T ORD, in my silence how do I despise ^ What upon trust

Is styled honour^ riches, or fair eyes;

But is fair 'dust! I surname them guilded clay, Deare ^ earth, fne grass e or hay; In all, I think my foot doth ever tread Upon their head.

But when I view abroad both Regiments;

The worlds, and thine; Thine clad with simplenesse, and sad events;

The other fine, Full of glorie and gay weeds,^ Brave language, braver deeds: That which was dust before, doth quickly rise. And prick mine eyes.

O brook not this, lest if what even now ^

My foot did tread, Affront those joyes, wherewith thou didst endow,

My poore soul, ev'n sick of love: It may a Babel prove "Commodious to conquer heav'n and thee Planted in me.

Who is the honest man? He that doth still and strongly good pursue. To God, his neighbour, and himself most true:

Whom neither force nor fawning can Unpinne, or wrench from giving all their due.

Whose honestie is not So loose or easie, that a ruffling winde Can blow away, or glittering look it blinde:

Who rides his sure and even trot. While the world now rides by, now lags behinde.

Who, when great trials come, Nor seeks, nor shunnes them; but doth calmly stay,

Till he the thing and the example weigh:

All being brought into a summe. What place or person calls for, he doth pay.

Whom none can work or wooe To use in any thing a trick or sleight. For above all things he abhorres deceit:

His words and works and fashion too All of a piece, and all are cleare and straight.

Who never melts or thaws At close tentations: when the day is done. His goodnesse sets not, but in dark can runne:

The sunne to others writeth laws. And is their vertue; Vertue is his Sunne.

Who, when he is to treat With sick folks, women, those whom passions sway,

Allows for that, and keeps his constant way:

Whom others faults do not defeat; But though men fail him, yet his part doth play.

Whom nothing can procure, When the wide world runnes bias,^ from his will To writhe his limbes, and share, not mend the ill.

This is the Mark-man, safe and sure. Who still is right, and prayes to be so still.

MY heart did heave, and there came forth, 0 God!

By that I knew that thou wast in the grief, To guide and govern it to my relief, Making a scepter of the rod: Hadst thou not had thy part, Sure the unruly sigh had broke my heart.

But since thy breath gave me both life and shape, Thou knowst my tallies; and when there's assign' d

So much breath to a sigh, what's then behinde? Or if some yeares with it escape. The sigh then onely is A gale to bring me sooner to my blisse.

Thy life on earth was grief, and thou art still Constant unto it, making it to be A point of honour, now to grieve in me, And in thy members suffer ill. They who lament one crosse. Thou dying dayly, praise thee to thy losse.

t) RIGHT spark, shot from a brighter place, ^ Where beams surround my Saviours face, Canst thou be any where So well as there?

Yet, if thou wilt from thence depart. Take a bad lodging in my heart;

For thou canst make a debter, And make it better.

First with thy fire- work burn to dust Folly, and worse then folly, lust: Then with thy light refine, And make it shine:

So disengag'd from sinne and sicknesse, Touch it with thy celestiall quicknesse. That it may hang and move After thy love.

Then with our trinitie of light,

Motion, and heat, let's take our flight Unto the place where thou Before didst bow.

Get me a standing there, and place

Among the beams, which crown the face Of him, who dy'd to part Sinne and my heart:

That so among the rest I may

Glitter, and curie, and winde as they: That winding is their fashion Of adoration.

Sure thou wilt joy, by gaining me To flie home like a laden bee

Unto that hive of beams And garland- streams.

DAY most calm, most bright, The fruit of this, the next worlds bud, Th' indorsement of supreme delight, Writ by a friend, and with his bloud; The couch of time; cares balm and bay: The week were dark, but for thy light: Thv torch doth show the way.

The other dayes and thou Make up one man; whose face thou art, Knocking at heaven with thy brow: The worky-daies are the back-part; The burden of the week lies there. Making the whole to stoup and bow.

Till thy release appeare.

Man had straight forward gone To endlesse death: but thou dost pull And turn us round to look on one, Whom, if we were not very dull, We could not choose but look on still; Since there is no place so alone,

The which he doth not fill.

Sundaies ^ the pillars are, On which heav'ns palace arched lies: The other dayes fill up the spare And hollow room with vanities. They are the fruitfull beds and borders In Gods rich garden: that is bare,

Which parts their ranks and orders.

The Sundaies of mans life, Thredded together on times string, Make bracelets to adorn the wife Of the eternal! glorious King.^ On Sunday heavens gate stands ope; Blessings are plentifull and rife.

More plentifull then hope.^

This day my Saviour rose. And did inclose this light for his: That, as each beast his manger knows, Man might not of his fodde Tiisse. Christ hath took in this piece of ground. And made a garden there for those

Who want herbs for their wound.